Kirk rose slowly from his captain's chair as the image flickered into view on the main screen. "Spock" he murmured, his voice creeping through the air just loud enough to be heard over the ever-present hum of the engine, "what are we looking at here."
Spock paused while he assessed the view. The cube in front of them was large, it's height approximately that of the main saucer of the Enterprise, and it's surface seemed almost completely uniform in height, with no sign of engine egress, warp field generators, weapons, or docking bays. The complete blackness of the cube was half-hidden by an elaborate geometric pattern in gold, raised slightly above the surface of the cube itself - a quick glance at the sensors revealed it to be approximately 2/3 of a meter in difference, a surprisingly small margin given the scale of the object.
The broad yet detailed bands of the geometric pattern were themselves scored through with what Spock assumed was lettering, although in no script he had ever encountered. "Zoom in, factor 20" Spock ordered calmly, and after the briefest of interrupts the viewscreen refreshed, now filled with a small part of the script which wrapped around the cube, intertwined with itself. up closer Spock could see that the glyphs themselves were surrounded by still smaller symbols, and their own hazy outline suggested yet another level of text at the smaller scale. Spock started to go through the alphabets and sets of symbols he was familiar with, searching back further and further in his past for something familiar. There was something, if only he could recall...
"Launch a probe, scanning distance five thousand meters" asked Spock, and with a familiar flash the remote probe shot out from the enterprise, rapidly closing the distance. An artefact, Spock recalled, long assumed to be a hoax, but were these the same shape...
The thought interrupted as the gold band of lettering filling their screen split cleanly across, no line visible save for that implied by the two halves of gold slowly sliding against each other, the stark light of the stars revealing through shadow that the cube itself was sliding against each other on an impossible fault line.
"Shields up" spoke Kirk, a hard edge in his voice the only betrayal of the sudden concern at this unexpected development. "Level two battle stations. Show me the entire thing damn it!" The view-screen flickered again and returned to a wide view, showing the slow shifting of the cube as lines spread from top and bottom and it slid against itself, impossibly precise, a star like section bisecting every surface of the cube rising up and then slowly rotating to the right. "Is it a weapon?" he asked, and Spock knew that it was directed to him, although Kirk's eyes never drifted from the screen. "I can't say Captain" he replied. "Energy levels are unchanged, I do not detect any sign of aggression."
"Arm phasers" asked Kirk, "but hold fire on my mark. They may be trying to communicate." The cube ceased rotation as abruptly as it had started, betraying not the hint of momentum despite it's enormous bulk, and the two halves slid back together slowly to form a new prism. They clicked level again, and the gold bands aligned in a new pattern, and Spock thought he recognized the script although he could not recall from where, and everything changed.
Spock woke to a firm but gentle touch to his flank, and a concerned voice whispering "Spock", as much a command as a question. "Jim" he replied quietly, already recognizing that the hard floor he lay on was not that of the bridge. Spock opened his eyes, but saw nothing in the completely blackness surrounding them. He quickly took stock - the floor felt like polished stone, smooth to the touch and unyielding, and the temperature was neutral. Their voices did not echo, despite the seemingly stark surroundings, yet the space sounded as open as a planet surface. "What has happened" Spock asked in a low voice, but he could sense as the question was posed that Kirk knew as little as he did, that they had both been taken together from the bridge.
They rose slowly to their feet, fearful of a low ceiling that was never felt, not yet ready to move out into the blackness. Spock could sense his captain growing impatient, fear fading away now that he know his companion was alive and well, being replaced by a rising temper at the assault inflicted on them. The captain's hand tensed on his shoulder and he knew that some sort of action was immenent, but for the sudden interruption of a low red light from behind, throwing their shadows out impossibly far across a featureless black plane of stone, uninterrupted.
Kirk spun around in response, cat-like on his feet, and took half a step back as Spock completed a more measured turn. Before them stood a statuesque alien, humanoid although of no easily identified species. They were dressed in what seemed to be head to toe black leather, a form fitted top contrasted by a heavy skirt draping in dramatic folds from hips to floor. Gaps in the leather ran along the chest, themselves crossed by leather strips which seemed to contain gruesome if superficial wounds - perhaps ritualistic or self inflicted, thought Spock, still trying to gather facts despite the seemingly unnatural setting. The most striking feature however, clearly deliberate wounds, were a huge number of metal spikes staked into the creatures face and head, spaced out in a geometric grid that both played with the lines and bone structure of the underlying biology while holding rigidly to the inscribed grid. It was a small wonder that Kirk took a step back confronted with this view - although only a step, his upper body now leaning slightly forward, hands clenched, anger rising again.
"Your quest for knowledge, your voyage of discovery, your endless curiosity, your unending thirst for experience," intoned the creature, it's voice as deep and raw and ragged as it's ravaged flesh, "your desires..." and a pause for this word to land, heavy and potent, before the finish: "They have brought you here, to be met in full."
"You will send us back to our ship immediately, along with any crew you have also kidnapped" replied Kirk, the anger plain on his voice, tempered by a compassion for his crew audible only to those close to him. "We will listen to what you have to say, but only on neutral ground."
"Experience!" roared the alien, sudden violence in it's voice quelled as quickly as it arose. " I speak of experiences."
It stood stock still, unearthly in it's poise, and continued: "Our people are on a mission of sort as well. An infinite mission: to explore new sensations, to seek out new stimulation, to boldly experience all that any sentient creature can experience. A mission grander in scope, limited only by our ability to dream. A mission you could now consider your own."
Kirk stepped forward, hand rising in a fist, and retorted "Your mission gives you no right to coerce others, to imprison us here." He strode forward but after only one step stopped, the alien gone, the room filled with mist that neither starfleet officer had seen arrive, the lighting blue despite there being no transition, no source.
"You are men of action, and men of science" rasped the voice of the alien from nowhere and everywhere all at once, "and I think I know where to start to satisfy both traits. Welcome, our honoured guests, to the Hell of the Platonic Positions."
The mist was thicker and from around them Spock could hear the sounds of laboured breathing, of moans and gasps, of wet flesh sliding against wet flesh. "Stay close" said Kirk, his voice low again, backing in a cautious crouch until their hips met.