Chapter Text
The air is filled with desperate panting. Through the trees run flashes of red, blue and gold.
There's a protocol for uncontacted planets. Go in undercover, and be sure not to blow it. Ahead, the first away team are dressed in muted colours: greens, dark browns, and greys. Long robes billow behind them as they guide their rescuers through the forest, and, inevitably, someone gets snagged on a branch.
"Keep going!" Louisana unfastens the clasp round her neck, disposes of the cloak, and scurries after the others. Predictably, they have slowed to accommodate her, and Uhura attempts to grab her arm.
A rumble, like thunder.
Something green flashes above.
"They've found us," Uhura says, breathlessly. She places a hand on the small of Louisana's back to usher her forwards, and reaches for Sulu's hand, though she knows it's useless. Sulu reaches for the Captain in turn, as if they can somehow draw strength from him.
As if he can keep them safe.
As he pummels his communicator, Kirk flashes them a reassuring grin. And- Louisana almost- almost- believes it.
Until the signal crackles.
"Scotty; whenever you're ready!" Kirk tries, unsuccessfully, for the fifth time. The communicator makes strained noises, and Kirk tightens his grip on Sulu. It is Sulu who releases his hand first, then Uhura's, but Uhura holds tight to Louisana.
There's a whistling sound all around them. In an instant, something hits Louisana from behind, and she stumbles forwards, taking Uhura with her. She tries, desperately, to open her hand so she can continue without her, but she finds that she can't let go.
A humming. She's being electrocuted, she supposes, though she isn't in pain. The trees are awash with light, as a great, metal tripod peers its way over the trees, floodlights drowning the forest, blinding them. Someone is screaming, and she examines the still, frozen faces around her.
It's me, she realises, as spots of light dance in front of her eyes. I'm screaming.
*
Kirk awakes with a gasp. The floor beneath him is cold, hard stone. He shivers. He sits up, but the air is no warmer. He's surrounded by bars. The metal is rusted, jagged in places.
Someone wails in the distance. His head snaps in its direction, but all he sees is a row of cells, stretching on and on. Two figures are huddled together in the cell next to him, dressed in red and yellow, and shivering.
"Captain," one gasps.
"Sulu… Uhura," Kirk says, groggily. He crawls over, and reaches his hands through the bars. "Where are we?"
Sulu grasps his hands, which provides just a little warmth, and shakes his head. "In custody of the local government, as near as we can figure."
"But we're not in a prison ," Uhura adds. She shivers against Sulu, who releases one of Kirk's hands so he can wrap an arm around her.
"Then- where?"
There's another distant, watery scream. Kirk looks up, and grips the bars tighter.
Uhura's teeth chatter. "The away team think they're slavers. This is some sort of- processing centre."
Kirk rests his head against the bars, and looks around. The cells closest to them are empty. "Where are the away team?"
"They were here," Sulu shivers. "Spock, too, until they took them away."
"How long was I out?"
"About fifteen minutes. Not long. When I woke up, Uhura was already awake."
Kirk squeezes his hand, and lets go. "How were the others?"
"Cold, mostly."
He manages a small smile, but Uhura frowns.
"There was something else," she says. "Just after I woke up- they took Ensign Louisiana from your cell."
"Took her where?"
Footsteps approach from the corridor to the right.
"To a doctor, I think- she was unconscious, and she wasn't responding-"
There's a guttural sound behind them, like a dog growling. Kirk whirls round. At the entrance to the cell is a short, humanoid figure, covered in a faint layer of fur. He bares his teeth, and fixes his pale eyes on Kirk as he unlocks the doors.
"No universal translator?" Kirk says, from the corner of his mouth.
"No," Uhura agrees, tapping the comm badge. "Spock and I tried to recalibrate it for their brain waves, but it couldn't get a fix on them."
The guard advances, and swipes at Kirk with a paw. While it has only three digits, he appears to have an opposable thumb, and he clutches a spear with his other hand, the head of which appears to be electrified. What's most striking, though, is the fact that his features are almost wolfish. There are two stubby ears perched on top of his head, triangular and alert, and, right in the middle of his face, a great big snout.
Kirk dodges the paw, and retreats to the corner of the cell. "So, their physiology is quite different to ours?"
"That's our working hypothesis."
"And it's evident from their, uh… Doggishness," Sulu says, with a tinge of humour.
Kirk flashes a smile, and glances to Uhura. "Are you able to understand them-? Ah!" He cries out, as the guard grips his wrist with enough force to shatter it.
"I'm beginning to." She brushes Kirk's fingers as he grips the bars, and lowers her voice. "Don't fight them, Captain."
Kirk grits his teeth, and turns his gaze on Sulu, questioning. Sulu touches his shoulder, even as the guard grabs his arm.
"We'll be fine."
He nods. Then, he's wrenched away from them, and dragged from the cell.
"I know you don't understand me," Kirk says, as he's pushed down the corridor. "But I'm not resisting you." He holds his arms out by way of explanation. "You see? I'm complying."
Still, the guard shoves him, with the strength of a man twice his size. He's no taller than five feet, shorter than Kirk by a good seven inches, yet much bulkier. He growls a response, and Kirk stumbles forwards.
"Alright," he says. "I'm walking." He picks up the pace, but, strangely, this seems to anger the guard too. Everything he tries- slowing down, matching his pace, staying only a half-step in front of him- seems to draw comment. Eventually, he resigns himself to being jostled down the corridor, until, finally, they pass through an archway.
In an instant, Kirk understands the source of the screaming.
*
As the drill approaches Spock, there's a whirring sound. A shrill scream pierces the air, which reminds Spock of the sound Ensign Louisana made, moments before their capture. He wonders if she is undergoing a similar procedure somewhere, but her voice sounds too far away.
For his part, he relies on a familiar mantra: pain is of the mind. It can be controlled.
His captors push a metal spike into his temple, and there is no pain . Something cold and round is pressed to his skin. He is reminded uncannily of Doctor McCoy's stethoscope.
There's a jolt of heat, searing his temple.
He breathes, and there is no pain. The device is turned on. An electric shock.
Every sound around him is immediately amplified, and- it's too much.
The screaming voice is joined by another, and Spock's eyes snap open. Jim . He struggles, surrounded by voices and not-voices, and a snarl rises in his throat. At the same time, one of the doglike voices beside him is transformed into words-
"- Is lively after all!"
A bark of agreement. Hands hold him down. His jaw aches. He clenches it, exhales through his nose, clenches his fists, and-
There is. No. Pain.
He goes still as he adjusts to the surge of information.
"Strange."
"Agree."
Steadily, the squeaks and growls around him are transformed into a stream of voices. He blinks, and attempts to raise a hand to the side of his head, but, of course, his hands are chained to the block beneath him. He considers the device, probing it with his mind, and that huge, gaping intrusion under the skin.
There is… no… pain...
The whirring stops, and Spock gasps.
"Still, this one doesn't scream like the others," says the man with the tool. He sounds disappointed.
"He is different," agrees the humanoid beside him. "Perhaps he doesn't feel anything." He runs his fingers over Spock's ears, and Spock tenses. The two of them laugh.
"You understand, yes?" Asks the first.
Spock blinks, and concentrates on the fingers which currently explore his face. Curiously, he feels only warmth; no undercurrent of emotion. No emotion at all.
"Yes," Spock says, his tongue too heavy in his mouth. "Though, our own translation software is less intrusive."
There's a grunt from outside, and Spock turns his head to it. The Captain.
The alien releases his face. "Software?" He asks.
"What software?" Asks the second.
Spock glances to the comm badge on his chest. "A Universal Translator. If we had more information on your species, we could calibrate it, but-"
"No; no calibration." The surgeon- for want of a better word- indicates the spot on Spock's temple. "This works best."
"This works perfect," agrees the other.
"But," Spock tries again, "You have no anaesthetic for the others. Nothing to dull the senses-"
A scream rends the air.
A voice Spock recognises.
"Captain-!" He struggles, but the chains hold him fast. "Release me!"
Hands pull him back. "No."
"No," agrees the other. "We are not finished."
He keeps fighting regardless, but, though these humanoids are half his size, they have surprising strength. He grunts, and kicks out at one of them, sending them skittering across the room. Then, something stabs into his neck, and the world spins.
The screams intensify.
*
Kirk breathes heavily, and attempts to curl in on himself as he resists the urge to throw up. He watches his feet. The stone beneath him is flecked with blood. A sound escapes his throat, and he runs his fingers over the uneven piece of stone he's been chained to, certain that he's going to die .
"- Understand, yes?" Someone asks.
He pants, and gives the slightest nod. Evidently, they don't understand that the gesture means 'yes.'
"Prepare to repeat procedure," the voice says. Kirk looks up sharply. His vision swims, and bile rises in his throat.
He shakes his head emphatically. Evidently, they don't understand that, either. The hands get closer.
"No, stop!" he croaks. "It works!" He holds up a hand. "It works." The dizziness intensifies, and he tries to take stock of his surroundings. Grey walls, thick-cut stone filled with small bumps and deformities.
"Hold him," the alien instructs again, and Kirk looks up.
"What are you doing? I just told you, 'it works-'!"
Firm hands grasp him by the shoulders, and the surgeon grips his chin, pulling it upwards to expose his neck. He pulls away, but the guard drags him back easily.
Something slams into his neck. It breaks the skin.
He grunts in pain, and blacks out.
*
There is no pain.
There is no pain.
There is no-
Kirk opens his eyes with a gasp. For the second time today, he wakes in a cold cell. However, unlike the first time, there's a hand on his face- marginally warmer than the rest of their surroundings- and he blinks up at his First Officer. "Spock?"
Torchlight flickers on his face. "Jim," he says gently, and blinks. "Captain." He withdraws his hand.
Pain floods Kirk the second that contact is broken. "No; you were right the first time." He winces, and touches a finger to the swelling on his neck. "I'm not a captain here."
Spock's eyebrows draw in in concern, his lips parting slightly.
Kirk struggles to sit up, and pain flares in his neck. "The others?"
Spock inclines his head. "Gone."
A scream splits the air, and Kirk grips his arm reflexively. The sound echoes for one second, two, then melts away. Kirk exhales, and releases his first officer.
"The rest of the away team haven't returned?" He whispers.
"No."
"Ah." His lip trembles, but he forces a smile. "That does put a dampener on our escape plans."
"Plans, Captain?"
"Well," a hissed laugh. "I hadn't got as far as making them yet."
He studies Spock's face. There's a circular lump on the side of his head- the translation matrix, Kirk realises, and he has a similar welt on his neck, where the skin is angry and raised.
"A tracking device," he realises.
"Yes." Spock's eyes wander to the cell doors.
Kirk reaches out. Almost unthinkingly, he ghosts his fingers over the mark, and Spock freezes.
'These are going to be a pain to remove ,' he thinks, loud enough for Spock to hear through his skin.
Spock raises an eyebrow. 'You believe we are being observed?'
'Better to be safe than sorry. They're technologically advanced- enough to block our transporters- so they must have some surveillance.'
Spock hesitates, then places a hand on Kirk's cheek. It's almost a caress. 'That is prescient.'
Kirk smiles, and leans into his touch for the benefit of the presumed cameras. 'We may be at an advantage. I don't think they have a concept of telepathy.'
'Indeed.' Spock cups his jaw, and dark eyes search his. 'When I touched them, there was no trace of emotion.'
'They don't have them?' Jim frowns.
He tilts his head. 'At the very least, they do not transmit them. Given the failure of our own universal translator device, it is likely that their minds may work quite differently to our own.'
Kirk hesitates, and remembers what Uhura had told him. The thoughts filter slowly through the shallow meld. 'You couldn't calibrate the Universal Translator to their brain waves… Uhura speculated that they might communicate with a different part of their brain.'
Dark eyes glitter. Then, Spock frowns, and presses his palm more insistently against Kirk's face, his fingers seeking their familiar hand-holds.
'No,' Kirk grabs his wrist, and shakes his head. 'No mind melds. It looks too... deliberate . They would surely realise it's a form of communication, even if the concept of telepathy is completely alien to them. I don't want to lose our advantage. Just…' He presses his forehead against Spock's, and pulls the hand away completely. 'Make it look like you're holding me.'
'Very well.' Spock's arms settle around his waist, and his breath steadies. 'Though it is perhaps unwise to give them the impression we are… close.'
Kirk suppresses a shiver. 'I know. Maybe. They already have so many other advantages over us… I just can't figure out any other way.”
Spock's breath ghosts across his cheek, and he feels him smile against his skin. He leans forwards- to do what , he isn't sure- but his lips part. Spock lowers his head, his own lips getting nearer and nearer, and Kirk's eyes flutter closed.
That's when the screaming starts again.