Here we go! Man is this story getting long. XD Well, compared to everything else I've written.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek!


"You do it."

"Very well. However, I must point out that Vulcans do not lie, and therefore-"

"You're not going to lie! You are cold, and maybe you do have hypothermia."

"…Very well."

Kirk stopped speaking with Spock and settled down to wait for breakfast. It didn't take long for the door to squeal open and two guys to walk in. Kirk recognized Lyle and Spike. He guessed they were in charge of prisoner upkeep.

Lyle was carrying a bucket and as he walked around the room, he was throwing bread out of it and into each cell. Spike was dispensing cups of water, though it hardly looked drinkable. Kirk kept still, didn't make a fuss. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself. It had snowed recently, so there hadn't been any 'exercise' for several days. Kirk was grateful. They hadn't discovered his loose hands yet.

So he just sat back and waited like a good boy for his escape plan to kick off its bright beginning.

The kidnappers were almost at the door before Spock spoke up. "Excuse me." The Vulcan said it quite calmly, and that, perhaps, caused the men to turn. "I believe I am in need of medical assistance."

"…What's wrong with you?" Lyle took a step closer, but Spike remained where he was, glaring dully at the cell.

"My extremities are beginning to alter in hue and my shivering has significantly slowed since yesterday. It seems likely that hypothermia is setting or could set in." He paused, then clarified for his blinking audience. "My fingers are, quite literally, freezing off."

"Damn it. Spike, fetch the doctor."

"I don't know where he is."

"God damn it." Lyle snapped something in a strange tongue and walked toward the door. "I'll get him. You stay here"

"I believe your plan is having the desired effect," murmured Spock once the man had gone. He sounded mildly impressed.

"Well, we'll have to see." But Kirk couldn't help but grin to himself.

---

"I told you you needed to give him a blanket," snarled the angry voice of McCoy, doctor. The man was striding hurriedly into the room with an irate, but slightly abashed, Lyle on his heels. "Their core temperature is a lot higher than ours. I don't know what the hell you thought you were doing." McCoy shook his head disgustedly and marched over to Spock's cell. When Lyle made to follow, the doctor whirled on him. "You get back and let me work. And would it kill ya to get a damn light in here?"

"I can get you a flashlight," muttered the man, exiting the room again.

"Scoot over here," growled the doctor, gesturing Spock closer to the door. He pulled out a key and let himself in, the better to examine the Vulcan. "You say you've got frostbite? Damn it to hell."

"Hey," said Kirk, sliding over. "McCoy."

"What? I'm tryin' to work." The doctor had unlocked the chain around Spock's wrists and was examining the affected digits with a critical eye. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the leather jacket draped on Spock's shoulders.

"Look, we don't have a lot of time. I need to know if I can trust you." Kirk had wrapped his hands around the dividing bars and was now regarding the doctor with an intense, searching gaze.

"What are you tryin' to pull?" asked the man, not looking up from where he was putting some sort of salve on Spock's hands. "Another escape? You saw how the last one turned out. That Asian kid was beat pretty badly; I had to fix two broken bones."

"Yeah, but what if we have you on our side?" asked Kirk, crossing his fingers. "And a car? Hmm?" He smiled disarmingly until the doctor finally looked at him. "Come on. We can take them. How many are there?"

"Seven," muttered McCoy. They were running out of time until Lyle returned with the flashlight. "I'm not a fighter, kid. I'm just an old country doctor."

"Come back tonight with a key," said Kirk, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging.

"Your assistance would be most helpful," put in Spock, and Kirk was inexplicably glad for the support. The doctor hesitated slightly, then sat back on his haunches.

"No promises." He stood up, brushed off his hands and closed the cell door behind him when he heard the warehouse door opening again. "You wasted your time; I'm done," he growled to Lyle. "He's all set, no thanks to you. You'd better put in a tarp or something."

After a suitable tarp had been found and bundled into Spock's cell, the men left, still snapping at each other. Spock gathered the cloth around himself and examined his newly-freed wrists.

"I believe that he will come."

"So do I," said Kirk, to soft cheers from the rest of the captives. He picked up his roll and took a bite from it. "So do I."

---

It wasn't quite midnight when he heard the rattle of metal on metal. Pale light crept into the room and slid liquidly across the floor. A dark figure stepped inside. Kirk shifted uncomfortably in the cold air.

Kirk was not sleeping. He doubted anyone was. Instead, he was sitting up, hands folded behind his head, waiting. He was pretty sure his wait was over. "Hello?" he called quietly, hoping against hope.

"Keep it down," grumbled a familiar voice. A footstep alerted Kirk to the man's presence outside his cell. "You realize this ain't going to be a damn picnic, don't you?" McCoy winced as the iron key scraped against the cell's lock, but he got the door open. "So far I guess your parents have been stallin', but that ain't gonna last for long. If they catch you, they might start cuttin' parts off. And I won't be around to help you again."

"Yeah, I got it. Thanks." Kirk climbed out of the cell and helped to untie the hostages as McCoy opened their cells. Soon they were all together, a motley group in the almost imperceptible light.

"All right," whispered Kirk. "Here's what's going to happen. Spock and I will take point. I figure I'm pretty good at fighting and Spock's strong as hell. McCoy, you are going to get us to a vehicle. Or two. Once he's done that. Sulu, you and Chekov are going to get us from here to civilization as fast as possible. Uhura, you listen for bad guys. I figure once they find out we're gone, they'll be spread out looking for us. Your job is to keep me informed as to where they're going. Got it?" His crew nodded, caught between excitement and fear. McCoy crossed his arms.

"You realize you're crazy, right?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Any questions? Good. Let's go."

---

The air outside was like a knife through Kirk's improvised tarp-cloak, but that didn't discourage him. They were on the move, finally. He could get out of this godforsaken hell hole. Slowly, a grin crept onto his face, exhilaration warmed him. This was going to be fun.

"Jim, we are approaching the main thoroughfare of the camp," murmured Spock beside him. The Vulcan was dressed in donations from the rest of the crew and had even obtained a pair of gloves from McCoy. He was carrying a length of chain for a weapon, though had earlier expressed his reluctance to use it.

"Good. We have to go… north-northwest, half a mile. Right, Sulu?"

"Right," he answered, following Kirk closely. McCoy had given him a hypospray for any residual pain, and an excited gleam filled his eyes. "We should be able to see the chimney smoke."

"Zere it is!" whispered Chekov, pointing out a thin grey line that was visible against the dark cloud cover.

"You said they have a landrover, Bones?" Kirk had pulled the nickname from thin air, but it seemed to fit the doctor well. It was fatalistic enough.

"Yeah, parked up on the far side of the lodge." He checked around the corner of a warehouse and gestured for the group to move forward. "We'd better hurry. Soon as they see our trail, they'll be on us."

"Right." The crew fell silent as they made their way farther up the hill. The moon was thankfully hidden, and that cut down a lot on their chances of being seen, but they still felt nervous when they left the complex of buildings to cross the open snow. Kirk could feel Spock stiffen beside him and goosebumps ran down his arms as they left the only cover they had. From now on, their wits would carry them.

What were they doing out here, anyway? The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. So the kidnappers had managed to grab five rich kids, but as far as Kirk could tell, they hadn't managed to secure ransom or demands. Chekov had been here for almost a month, and yet there hadn't been a peep from his parents. And what was Bones doing there? Kirk had managed to get a small explanation: the kidnappers had a man on his young daughter. But why? It didn't make any sense.

What were they doing?

They were getting close to the lodge now. Kirk couldn't believe their good luck; they hadn't encountered a single patrol yet. Admittedly, it was freakin' cold out, but… It was a little suspicious. Kirk motioned for the group to stop, and he took Uhura's arm, pulling her with him as he silently approached the cabin.

There was a light on inside, and a square of yellow brilliance illuminated the snow under the window. Kirk avoided it and slipped up against the wall. From this close, he and Uhura could hear muffled voices.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" He mouthed the words, but he could see in her face that she understood him.

"I can try…" She cocked her head and started concentrating, trying to focus in on the syllables, the tone, the cadence. The wind blew a little colder.

Kirk couldn't shake the feeling now that something was very, very wrong.

---

Lyle crossed the room in short, angry strides and just stopped himself from fisting his hand in the alien's shirt. "We have been waiting and waiting," he growled, spit flying to land on the other man's pale face. "Where is he? Where is our money?"

"Enough," snapped his boss, absently patting down the tangled moustache that cloaked his upper lip. "Lyle, enough. I will handle this." He stood from where he'd been reclining by the fireplace. "We have Kirk, now. I got him myself." He stepped forward. "We have been tolerant. But even my patience is growing thin."

"Now, now. Jordan, relax," said their pallid guest, adjusting the fur-lined collar of his parka. The tattoos on his face seemed to writhe eerily in the firelight. "He is buying a ship."

"Buying a ship," said Jordan, drawing out the phrase unpleasantly. The alien didn't flinch as he bared teeth filed for intimidation.

"Yes."

"He should have done that months ago!" The other kidnappers, gathered around the walls, murmured in agreement. None of them had thought to check on the prisoners. Not when their cash hung in jeopardy. "Listen, freak. The Black Tongues do not take orders from liars." He ended the word in a hiss of displeasure.

"My captain is not a liar. You will have your money. Ready the prisoners for transport by the end of the week, and we will come for them." It was his turn to threaten now, and he drew a wickedly curved blade from a back-mounted sheath. "Or you will all lose your livelihoods. And your lives as well."

Jordan stepped away, sweating despite the chill. He shifted uneasily until the man put the blade away.

"Do you understand me?" The alien looked around the cabin, making sure that each man shivering within had full sense of his meaning.

"Of course... Ayel."


Gasp! ;D Thanks to gowvan for the idea of Romulan involvement. Initially, this story wasn't supposed to get beyond Kirk and Co.'s epic escape, but goddammit if I haven't got a whole conspiracy planned. On that note: suggestions are welcome! I can't guarantee they'll all be used, but the next few chapters are an amorphous mass of possibilities.

Next chapter, we'll hopefully meet the parents and find out what they've been doing this whole time. And maybe some backstory, too? :D Reviews are much appreciated!