It took weeks of constant pestering for Bones to relent.

Jim has been trying to convince him into a landing party almost since he took captaincy of the Enterprise, but so far, Bones has stood firm. Sickbay beds have become the net over which a rally of pester versus 'Damnit Jim, I'm a doctor not Dora the Explorer' is played daily until one particularly fraught day Bones whirls around and agrees to 'One time, never again and you get out of my sickbay or so help me, I'll stab you with so many hypos you'll begin to resemble Swiss cheese.'

So even the most stubborn can be broken, and it's a murderous looking doctor who storms onto the
transporter pad, followed by an infuriatingly smug looking Captain who orders them down.

'Ten gamma shifts say that the Captain comes back with a black eye.'

'You're on.'

Bones knew something was wrong as soon as they'd landed. Firstly, there was no 'they.' He had landed, inconceivably, completely alone in a nest of the dead vines which latticed the entire planet. His right forearm was burning, but when he looked down, it was clear and unblemished.

He knew better than to call out, and instead gingerly extracted himself from the crumbling vines, hauling himself up to the top of a sandy ridge to survey the ground below. It was desolate, empty, and Bones lifted his eyes to the sky, longing for the familiar outline of the Enterprise. The green, smog-covered sky existed in a near permanent state of day, and the stars were only visible at certain times of the month.

'Humanoid!' Bones whirled around, and came face to tusk with a native. 'Identify yourself.'

'Doctor Leonard McCoy, USS Enterprise.'

'A doctor?'

'Yes.'

'Then you must come with us.'

The natives' impossibly lanky gait makes it hard for Bones to keep up, and the rest of the group simply chivvy him along, insisting that he must hurry, he must.

'Is someone injured? Sick?'

'No. Nobody is injured. But you must come, you must.'

Bones is wary, but with no sign of his comrades, and the delicate nature of diplomacy makes it difficult to speak to them, when their only response is to insist that he 'must hurry, you must.'

He still cannot understand how quickly the natives appeared. Their sickly jaundiced skin, dappled with the same dark green as the sky is a sharp contrast to the red desert, and to the bone-white of the vines, and he is certain he surveyed most of the visible desert from his former vantage point.

Still, perhaps they have a slightly more advanced leader, or some way to signal the Enterprise, and he cannot see any benefit in remaining where he was. He just hopes Jim, and the rest of the landing party, are safe.

That aside, he is going to murder Jim when he gets back.

'Dr McCoy, welcome. The recovery team has told me much about you.'

The leader's opening words to Bones are uttered as his left foot strikes the second step into the strangely clinical room, flanked by the 'recovery team,' who haven't issued so much as a breath yet.

When did he become so perceptive? He takes in the entire room, the clinical white walls, coupled peculiarly with furniture sculpted from cut off pieces of the bony vines. Other members of this native species are draped across them, looking up disinterestedly at the new arrival.

'I hope you will enjoy your stay.'

'Stay?' Bones finally finds his voice. 'No. Sorry, we were on a brief surveillance, I need to return to the… Wait. We were informed that the planet was uninhabited.'

'Misinformation is like a summer song… No that's not right. Why is a raven like a writing desk? No...'

Bones sighs. The leader is clearly as mad as a box of frogs, and he needs to signal the Enterprise quickly. He thinks for a second, and then interrupts.

'Did your recovery team extract anyone else?'

'This planet is uninhabited, Doctor, you said as much yourself.'

'I meant visitors. Aliens. Like me. I think our transporter link was interrupted, and I've been separated from my party.'

'Oh, I adore parties! Let's have a party!'

'Jim Kirk? Have you picked up a Jim Kirk? Tall, blo-yellow-haired, blue eyed, gol-yellow clothed?'

A shadow passes over the leader's face, and all trace of potential madness is erased by the sinister smile which suddenly spreads over his thin face, twisting his curlicue tusks into the same, peculiar smirk.

'Why yes. Jim Kirk. We have found a Jim Kirk.'

Relief and dread swoops over Bones as the leader extends a hand, gesturing to the wall directly behind Bones. Where there had once been an entryway, the bloodied body of a very dead Jim Kirk is pinned to the clinical white walls by the bony vines. Bile shoots up Bones throat and, as the long, twisted fingers of his captors seize hold of his upper arms a wave of nausea shoots through him and his legs give out, gazing up into the last smile of Captain James T. Kirk.

A/N: I don't normally like Author's Notes, as I feel they detract somewhat from the flow of the story. But this story is delightfully obtuse, and I feel some things must be explained. This will be a three part story. THREE WHOLE PARTS. How marvellous.

Before you immediately exit out of this story, THERE IS NO CHARACTER DEATH. None. Nada. Na-uh.

While very little is explained in this chapter, and it is wonderfully short, I will explain.

1) Plot holes are necessary. I will fill them in later, as the story progresses. No whingeing.

2) When reading this, if not initially obvious, read with Alice in Wonderland in mind, possibly Through the Looking Glass to a certain extent. All will clear up later.

3) IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT. A Two Page 12 Point Font challenge was issued to me, and I accepted gleefully. Mostly because of my laziness. If you would like to take on the Challenge, go for it, and link me to it in the reviews.