Enterprise: The Measure of a Man

**DISCLAIMER: Fan fiction only. NO money is being made off this story and no infringement on copyrights is intended with respect to aired and theatrical Star Trek.


Enterprise: The Measure of a Man
Chapter 3

After Archer and Trip were dragged away, Malcolm instinctively pushed forward, as if to follow them off the platform. The rough hands of their guards held him back.

Beside him, Derix was becoming hysterical. "Where are they being taken?" he wailed. "What's going to happen to us?"

"I don't know," Malcolm answered through clenched teeth, "but I'm not going to stand here and be sold off like a farm animal."

"But what can we do? They'll kill us if we try to run away."

At the front of the platform, the Andorian was being auctioned off; the women in the audience applauded, and the captive was led away on a short leash. Malcolm's face puckered with anger he could barely suppress.

"Maybe," he muttered to Derix. "But they'll have to catch us first."

Malcolm's turn on the block had arrived; one of the handlers approached, grabbed his wrist, and tried to force him to his knees. At first, Malcolm pretended to yield, stooping so that the thick lead could be wrapped around his neck. Then, just before the strap could be tightened, he reared up and loosed a tremendous punch to the creature's rocky forehead. With a roar, his tormentor went down, greasy fingers slipping from Malcolm's skin.

Suddenly free, Malcolm dropped into a defensive crouch and scanned the area for an opening. He didn't have much time; already the other guards were hurrying toward him from all sides, blocking every possible escape route.

He spotted a flash of movement behind one of the creatures. Derix, clearly too slight of build to offer their captors any real physical resistance, had dropped to his hands and knees. His eyes, still trained on Malcolm's, offered a silent signal.

There was no time to reflect or hesitate. With a defiant shout, Malcolm plowed ahead, his right shoulder impacting with the creature's chest. At the same time, Derix rolled sideways, hurling his slender frame against the trunk-like legs. Improvising as he fell along with both of them, Malcolm used the toppling bulk as a makeshift catapult. He was distantly aware of the gasps from the spectators and the enraged grunts of the handlers as he hurtled himself off the platform and hit the ground running. He also knew, without looking back, that the entire phalanx of pig-faced pursuers were spilling after him into the amphitheater.

Only one path seemed open to him, and he took it, zigzagging through the rows of seated women, leaping from one low stone bench to the next, hurling himself toward the back of the open-air theater-the sole point of exit he could see.

As he ran, he was conscious of two currents of sound ringing in his ears. One was the huffing breath and the thudding footsteps of the guards who hurried after him. The other he first took for astonished gasps and cries of alarm from the women he was vaulting over and around. Gradually, though, he realized that they weren't panicking at all: they were laughing as he ran, naked and humiliated, for his life.

Still, he pushed on, confident that he was gaining ground against his much clumsier pursuers. In a way, his total lack of clothing, combined with a hurricane-strength rush of adrenaline, enabled him to move much faster and more freely than he ever had before.

The last row of benches was visible now-and, beyond the sleek white pillars that surrounded the amphitheater, he could see the outline of neatly planted rows of trees and modest houses and buildings. What he might encounter there he couldn't begin to imagine, but at least he'd have a chance to break for open ground. And he knew Archer and Trip were probably out there somewhere.

Pushing off with his bare right foot, Reed sailed gazelle-like over that final group of wide-eyed young women. In mid-leap, he glanced down in time to see one of them looking-and reaching-directly upward. Too late, he realized his mistake. All he could do was scream in pain as her fingers shot between his legs and latched on to the most tender area of his exposed anatomy.

The muted of rumble laughter he'd heard earlier exploded into full-blown hilarity as his flight to freedom came to a mortifying end. The woman clung fiercely to his burning scrotum as his knees slammed into the stone bench and his face plowed unyielding dirt.

Pain descended on him in a thick red haze as he pushed up from the ground and struggled to regain his footing. His vision cleared just in time to see the entire squadron of pig-faced goons bearing down on him. He was fighting as hard as he could when one of them pulled out a surprisingly modern-looking hypo spray and applied it to his neck. As quickly as his escape had unraveled, everything began to go black. Malcolm considered oblivion anything but merciful.

_______________________________________________________________________


Hours later, he opened his eyes to find himself on an even rougher floor. His nostrils twitched with the dank smell of stale air and mildew.

Rolling onto his side, Malcolm scrubbed the grime from his face. Aside from some stiff muscles, a bruise on his cheekbone, and a vague throb in his violated crotch, he didn't seem to have been injured.

He wasn't alone, either. None other than Derix was huddled against the far wall, watching him intently. When he saw Malcolm sit up, he hurried over and knelt beside him.

"You're all right?"

"Yes, everything seems to be in place." Filled with dread, Reed assessed their surroundings. The cavernlike enclosure was furnished only with a few slabs of rock, and the sole source of light was a jagged hole that had been hewn into the stone above their heads. "I take it we're being punished for our disobedience."

"It would seem that way. They didn't really explain much-just knocked me down and dragged me in here. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up."

"Well, I appreicate your concern. Did they hurt you?"

"No." Derix swallowed hard, his apprehension yielding to a flash of anger. "Luckily for them. This is an outrage! Me, a crown prince-being humiliated in this manner! It's unheard of-and someone shall hear of it, I promise."

"I'm not crazy about it, either. Right now, I don't think anyone cares."

Derix opened his mouth to say more, then closed it again when the far wall moved to one side, apparently controlled by a device they couldn't see. The gap widened just enough to admit two people: a light-haired, fortyish woman in a pale blue robe, who was accompanied by a ridge-headed, vaguely reptilian male who sported a loosely tied loincloth and carried another leash like the ones used on the platform. The woman's eyes never left Malcolm as she gestured toward her servant. Wordlessly he bowed, then shoved Derix into the far corner. The prince protested in vain as the reptilian affixed one end the leash to his neck and the other to a ring imbedded in the rock.

Frowning, Malcolm pulled himself into a modest crouch, wrapping both arms around his knees to cover himself. Smiling to herself, the woman moved past him and seated herself on one of the nearby slabs. Her hands smoothed the soft fabric that fell in delicate waves over her lap.

"That was quite a performance you gave this afternoon," she said, her green eyes flashing with amusement as they roved over his body. Malcolm felt his skin prickle, and tightened his grip around his bent legs. "I can't imagine how you ever expected your attempt to succeed, though. Surely you could see that recapture-and correction was sure to follow."

"I thought it was worth a try," Malcolm grumbled.

"On the other hand, you might be interested to know that you fetched the highest price of any slave that's come to market in over a year."

"How flattering."

Her gaze turned frosty. "You ought to address me with more respect. Still, we won't worry about that just yet. Everything in good time."

"I take it you were the winning bidder."

"Correct. That's good. You are intelligent as well as high-spirited. I'm glad to know that my coin was well spent. In fact, I have so much confidence in your potential that I haven't yet agreed to letting Slon, here, retrain you." She nodded to the reptilian, who responded with a submissive bow. "Instead, I've decided to give you another chance to demonstrate your worthiness to serve me. You may believe me when I say you will prefer my way to his."

Malcolm stared, astonished, as she stretched out on the flat surface of the rock and pushed aside the folds of her garment. She wore nothing underneath it, and he found himself only inches away from her bare flesh. Her fingers stroked around her moistening center, while her hips tilted toward him.

"Come closer," she demanded. Too stunned to object, he shuffled forward a few inches, still on his knees. Reaching out with her other hand, she gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face toward her thighs. "Now I will allow you to prove to me that I made a wise choice in purchasing you."

Behind him, the reptilian shuffled his feet and began to breathe excitedly. The woman raised her voice to address him.

"No, Slon. The exercise is meaningless unless he submits to me willingly." Her palm rubbed the back of Malcolm's neck as if she were coaxing a pet. "And you do want to serve me...to attend to my needs...don't you?"

Gritting his teeth, Malcolm scowled and jerked his head away. "Actually, I think I'll pass, if it's all the same to you."

Her gentle stroking stopped abruptly. Malcolm felt the edges of her nails press against his skin. "You will not obey me?"

"No. I won't."

Red-faced with fury, she flung her robe closed and fastened the sash around her waist. "It seems that you need to learn your place after all."

"I know my place very well. It isn't here. Nothing you can do to me would turn me into what you apparently expect."

"You seem very certain of that. We shall see if you are as confident when Slon finishes rehabilitating you." Pushing herself to her feet, she motioned for the reptilian to step forward. He did so, grinning to reveal two rows of jagged, discolored teeth. "Slon, you may do whatever you think necessary to render this miscreant fit for my service."

"Wait," Malcolm said, pivoting to look up at them. "What about Derix? He's not involved in this. Don't punish him for something I did."

"How useful that you seem to care about his welfare. Slon will no doubt find that information useful in his training exercises."

With a last, haughty smile, she was gone. Malcolm's eyes drifted from Slon, whose smirk now seemed even uglier, to Derix, who was tearfully squirming against his restraints, then back to Slon again.

"You ought to have surrendered to Mistress when she gave you the chance," Slon finally said in a low, gravelly voice. "Now you'll have to learn the hard way."

Casually, his fingers crept to the strip of cloth her kept loosely tied around his waist. A brief flick of his wrist sent the garment slithering to the grimy floor.

At first, Malcolm could only stare. His mouth went dry as it slowly dropped open.

Slon was more generously endowed than any male of any species he'd ever encountered anywhere in the galaxy. Not only did he possess an organ as long and wide as Malcolm's own forearm, the the gritty skin so swollen that it seemed on the verge of splitting open like the rind of an overripe fruit....

He also sported two of them.