I'm so sorry for the delay, guys. I wish I could have posted this sooner, but I truly just don't have as much freetime as I used to. Which is actually great, because I love my work, but I miss my hobbies too. Anyway, I thank you so so much for your patience. You guys truly make it worth it, and I love writing for myself and my readers. And please, always know, I will never abandon a piece. And I read every single comment, even if I don't reply to all of them. I used to be much better, but back then I had more time - I'll try to be better, because if you're kind enough to leave me a note, I should return the favor.Thank you for taking time to let me know what you think...it's invaluable to me.
But again, just know that I read them all and they always warm my heart, no matter their content. I don't even know you or what you look like, but damn if I don't love you all!
Thanks for reading. I mean that...thank you. LLAP 3
"Turn the damn lights off, Jim!" McCoy growled anxiously as he glanced out the window. He heard Kirk puff behind him.
"I'm trying! I'm trying! This shuttle had an electrical update, I can't figure out how to enforce a black-out!" he replied hastily, his fingers feathering over the console with uncertainty. "Damn, I need to get my ass down to Engineering more often, I'm getting behind on this crap." Finally, McCoy just turned around and slapped his hand out of the way, shooting his finger out in front of a button.
"Try this one!"
"Don't touch it, Bones! You're gonna combust the ship or something!"
"This one has a little kite on it! Look! Press it!"
"That's not a kite, Bones, it's a diamond or something!"
"The bloody hell it isn't, look here at the string! Some cadet engineer thought it'd be funny to put a Ben Franklin kite on the button instead of a dagum lightbulb, I'm tellin' ya, it's this one! Jim, you better turn these blasted things off before a patrol ship comes over and shuts 'em off for us!"
"Fine fine fine! Agh!" Kirk yelled this, but still he hovered over the mystery button without action. McCoy leaned over and forced Kirk's hand down with his own on top; he felt the click of the button, and suddenly everything was dark. The lights had dissipated so quickly that with the rich blackness of the universe combined with the absence of light in the ship, the two men's eyes could only register darkness. It was almost as though they'd locked themselves in the middle of a mountain, the surrounding rock so thick and dense that not a particle of light could penetrate the walls.
Soon, though, their eyes adjusted and little twinkling dots appeared one by one out the window, and the spherical shape of a dwarf planet with yellow and orange lights showing company came into view. They fidgeted their radio to find the Klingon comms, to hear anything, any clue, any sign, but it was all but useless. Kirk popped a disappointed fist down on the communication button.
The camp was an outpost, at least. Kirk thanked the stars for this, because truthfully, had it been a base, he and McCoy would probably be dead already. He looked over at McCoy's face, whose eyes were stone in anticipation of the near future. His skin looked a shade of translucent blue; the bounce of the universe's natural dark glow. The doctor turned his head to meet Kirk's eyes, and they knew they were ready.
The yellow and orange lights of the Klingon compound were the only lights on the small planet, leading them to believe the remainder of the planet was empty. They brought their craft down below to the lights, breaching the thin atmosphere without disruption or sound. The Brighton skimmed the surface as it neared the compound, it`s low hum bleeding into the whine of the wind. The men strained to see in the darkness. There was no nearby star, nova, or nebula to provide light; that which guided them was only the supreme guidance technology of the shuttle. They brought the craft to the edge of the camp, landing it carefully behind thick, dark brush, and listened to the sound of silence. Even if a Klingon was standing 10 meters in front of them, that Klingon would not see the shuttle. That being said...they themselves would not see the Klingon.
Quickly, his blood pumping and his eyes wide with hope, Kirk entered several specifications into the lifeform locator. It pinged quietly as it searched, and then as a bead of cold sweat dropped down Kirk's neck, about 20 little dots decorated the image.
19 were brown, and one was red. All 20 dots were restricted to the compound area. Both McCoy and Kirk cracked smiles and released their held breath at the sight of it - Spock was alive.
"Think we can handle 19 armed Klingons?" muttered McCoy with a self-aware laugh. Kirk returned the laugh and nodded his head a few times.
"If all 19 Klingons don't see us, then yeah, I think we'll be just fine. So let's just not be seen, alright?"
"He seems to be in some kind of cell, or a room. There's nobody in his near vicinity...probably no guards. They don't think he'll escape...no need to post any soldiers. If we're silent, take it one corner at a time, we might actually make it."
"We're gonna make it."
"Well, let's get rockin', then."
Swiftly, they holstered their phasers and opened the door of the shuttle. The chill of the thin alien air hit their faces first, slapping them with shocking bitterness. McCoy winced at the bite.
He looked back and saw the hardly visible outline of the shuttle, tucked away in the dark. He studied the area as swiftly and as efficiently as possible, memorizing the outline of the massive boulder that sat behind the shuttle and counting the stars and their positions directly above them. He wasn't sure, but McCoy thought he saw a dying star shoot out like a marble and then disappear into the dark. Kirk whistled at him quietly, and with a lasting look, McCoy quickly scuttled over to him and together they hustled towards the lights.
There were three buildings, one of which was a hanger for the Klingon crafts. Kirk gulped at the fleeting thought that should the Klingons choose to check their machine radar, they'd see a craft sitting like a blatant outlier in the dark fields. He shooed the thought away; they were rescuing Spock, regardless of anything else. Thinking of possible avenues of failure was only a waste of brainpower.
The two of them skirted behind the hanger, sandwiched between the uninhabited fields and the very much inhabited camp. They heard voices, voices of soldiers chatting quietly on the other side of the metal sheet that separated them. Everything else was so silent, so still, that McCoy didn't even dare scratch the itch on his face.
Kirk stepped smoothly to the end of the hanger, their backs now to the field and the rest of the compound ahead of them. He peeked around slowly, allowing only one eye to be revealed to the open camp. The smallest building, about the size of the bridge of the Enterprise, was about 30 meters away. The other building, about twice the size, was 15 meters to the left of that one. There were four lightposts cornered around, stuck loosely in the dirt, dimly lighting the dust and the walkways and nothing more. It oddly reminded Kirk of an old western movie, of a town small and shaggy and barely lit. With some dread, though, Kirk knew this was no film.
The building they were leaning against was a hanger, that much they knew. That meant that the other two were either the soldiers quarters or the headquarters. There were 19 soldiers, and Klingon's were not a generous race - the smallest building, Kirk concluded, was room enough for 19 sleeping men.
His eyes traveled to the left, to the other shacky building, and he felt his skin prickle. Spock was in there. He knew it.
He looked back at McCoy and motioned for him to look for himself, mouthing the words "ten o'clock". McCoy took his place at the edge of the metal sheet, directed his eyes to the building that lay at the coordinates Kirk just gave him, and nodded his understanding. He ran his thumb absent-mindedly over the hilt of his phaser.
The ground beneath them was soft, absorbing the light impacts of their swift feet. They kept to the darkness, shuffling around the light and blending into the rest of the unoccupied land. They were halfway to the building, with Kirk's mind so focused that it was though only a single tunnel of thought had ever existed in his brain.
They heard the unmistakable creak of a door, and they immediately dropped to a flinching crouch. McCoy thought his heart stopped. He felt the dirt dig into the palm of his hand.
With wide eyes, they watched a Klingon depart the quarters building and drag over to the hanger. His feet thumped carelessly across the way while dust floated up behind him. He soon disappeared into the metal building, absolutely and completely unaware of the two human men hardly 12 meters away.
Despite the jarring fright the moment gave them, it was not for nothing. When the door of the soldier's quarters swung open and the soldier stepped out, they saw that inside that building lay several other soldiers, many sleeping while others walked around chowing food or folding uniforms.
It was the end of the work day. This, they then hoped, meant that the headquarters they were creeping towards would be largely empty. They knew Spock wasn't being directly guarded, or so it definitely appeared on the radar - perhaps if luck was on their side, the building itself would be totally void of the damning Klingons.
Finally, after what seemed like an agonizing amount of time, they came upon their destination. They stopped at the edge of the shadows, not yet stepping into the light. Kirk looked back at McCoy and tapped at his ear, raising his eyebrows in a question. McCoy answered with a tap of his ear too, nodding. The earpieces were small and most importantly, hands free. Communicators were always the preferred method of communication, being more clear, effective, long-distance, and performing multiple functions, but in times of battle, they were cumbersome. With only a tap on the ear, the two men could correspond while still having hands on their weapons. It was, truly, invaluable.
Kirk ran his eyes over the small camp, concluded everything was still, and led he and McCoy quickly into the building. The few seconds they were in the light felt like fire on their bodies.
Kirk entered first, slipping into the building with his weapon drawn and ready to fire. McCoy followed suit, hardly a step behind him, and the door closed with a quiet click.
The area was empty. There was some form of a bulletin hanging off the wall, with text of a foreign language covering the papers. Kirk breathed heavily through his nose as he willed his arm to lower. They were, at the moment, alone.
Still, though, they dared not speak.
McCoy took the lead. He spun around the next corner with his knee against the ground, ensuring his body was at a low and unexpected level should there be a visitor on the other side.
Again, they were alone. The eeriness of the abandoned halls did not go unnoticed, but the chill it gave both men could only be ignored.
Down the first hall were a few doors as well as other halls, branching off in different directions like a small maze. The doctor heeled slowly to it, nodded at Kirk, and ventured down the path. As per the plan, Kirk stayed at the base of the hall and kept his weapon drawn while McCoy inspected the spaces. He awaited a signal from McCoy.
McCoy pointed the phaser at eye level while his free hand grasped the first door handle. Slowly, with his heartbeat in his ears, he opened it. Only darkness greeted him, as if a black blanket had taken the place of a room.
He knew he needed to check every room, dark or not. His heart pounded harder at the thought that this room may be a sleeping quarters for the high brass. What if he shines his light directly onto the face of a sleeping officer?
It didn't really matter, because he was going to check anyway. He had to. Without indulging too much thought into it any longer, he clicked the light on his phaser and shone its beam into the room, floating it across in a straight line. He swallowed his nerves, for it was only a communications room, and there was no Vulcan.
He stepped back into the hallway, and shifted down to the next door.
There were three rooms in that hallway, and all were disappointingly empty. With fraying anxiety, he stepped back to the base and gave Kirk the signal that Spock was not here. The signal was just a shake of his head.
They crept to the next hallway.
Soon after McCoy stepped into the first room, which was a dark and crowded storage area, he heard the terrible slam of a door and distant clicking of boots. His stomach lurched into his throat and he swiftly flung his back against the wall, keeping his phaser close to his chest while he willed his breath to be silent. He flexed his ear, listening, but the boots clicked further and further away until their sound was no longer heard.
His hand quivering only slightly, McCoy looked into the hallway from which he just came and peeked down to where Kirk was. The captain was pressed against the wall, peering out into the main hallway near him, but his body was not tense. He turned and locked eyes with the doctor, nodded his head to show the coast was clear, and looked back to the hall. It seemed as though, by some miracle, they continued to go unfound by the enemy. With a deep inhale, McCoy continued to the next room. And then the next room. And the next.
With each empty room, the hope that was lit in the man's belly shrunk. Like a ball of white fire, it faltered with each increasingly Spock-less space. It was not an overly large building - if the Vulcan was not here, the hopes of finding him would be all but gone. It was a thing McCoy knew he could not live with.
He retreated back to Kirk, and saw the captain reading the growing worry in his eyes. Kirk gave the medkit on McCoy's back an encouraging tap, as if to say there was a patient out there who needed them. One that was lost, and one they would find. With the smallest nod, McCoy led them to the next hall.
There were no rooms in this hallway, but only another hallway, down at the end. It swung to the right, but McCoy could not see what lay beyond it. McCoy clenched his jaw nervously - please, he hoped, let there be a room down that one. He did not wish to venture so far from the main hall without prize.
As he turned the corner, he looked back at Kirk crouching guard at the base of the first hall. McCoy took a step forward, now no longer able to see him around the corner, and suddenly felt very alone.
Straining his ear, listening to the thin air, McCoy knew the corridor to be empty. He touched his earpiece, and said in the quietest whisper,
"There was a second hallway...I'm checking it out. Hang tight."
He tapped it again to force it mute, and continued forward to the first of four rooms. The first room did not have a handle, but it was rather just a push door. McCoy applied pressure with his shoulder and swung the door open and stepped inside. Before his eyes even fully adjusted, before he knew where he was, he felt his skin prickle coldly.
Silver tables lined the walls, open boxes sitting atop them. Hooks with hanging equipment decorated the room; guns, knives, strange sticks that reflected the light in the hallway. There was a shelf that sported at least ten small, cylindrical objects that had some strange rotating wires sprouting out the top like claws. It was the first room McCoy was grateful Spock wasn't in. Rather swiftly, he backed himself into the swing door and returned to the hall.
He looked down the hallway, and eyed the third room, rubbing his neck as he pulled forward towards it. It caught his attention, even though he hadn't even looked in the second room. He didn't even bother with the second...it was almost invisible to him. As he neared it, he knew this room was different from the others. The paint at the bottom of the door was scratched, as if a cat had tried to claw a fly out from the wood. There was a small vent to the right of the door, sitting strangely by itself in a somewhat illogical position, but the doctor could only see darkness on the other side. McCoy's eyebrows pressed together. Something uneasy coiled in his belly. He wrapped his hand around the door handle...
It opened silently. McCoy stood there for a moment, alone with his breath, before he peered at the vent from inside the room, curious of its purpose. It seemed rather ordinary, besides it's peculiar placement. As McCoy studied it, though, he soon noticed that next to it was a worn light switch.
He flipped it on.
A terribly faded light came from a hanging lamp above him, and McCoy looked up at it questionably. It seemed rather inefficient. His eyes came down from looking up at it, and every part of his body froze. Even his thoughts came to a halt. He forgot all about that hanging lamp and bizarre vent, and had he the notion to think about it, he'd probably forgotten his own name.
The outline of a body was pressed against the far wall, and McCoy knew it was him. He knew it. He staggered forward as if he were struck, and whispered,
"Spock?"
There was no answer, though the body seemed to shift with the soft crinkle of chains following. McCoy then took several large, gracious steps over until he was close enough to identify, and yes, sure enough as the sun was bright, it was Spock.
McCoy did not have even a second of joy, though, for the moment he could identify him was the moment he could truly see him. McCoy dropped to one knee as he ran his wide eyes over the Vulcan.
He was remarkably pale. His skin seemed gray, and there was dark blood clotted in his hair from a wound that sat on the corner of his hairline. His hands hung, chained to the wall above him, with his wrists green in wound. The worst, though, was the vacancy in his eyes as they came up to look at the doctor.
"Spock...I'm going to get you out of here." He quickly tapped his earpiece. "Jim...I found him. He's in a bad way, but I think he might be well enough to walk. I need to get him out of these chains. Get ready to book it once we get to you." He tapped the piece again and dropped his hand.
"Spock...do you see me?"
"Oh, I do."
"...I...I, do you know who I am?"
"You appear to be Doctor Leonard McCoy." His voice was void of emotion. Not in the Spock way, but in a robotic, inhumane, invulcane, almost dead way.
"Well are you really so behooved to see me?" McCoy scoffed. He was so jarred by Spock's voice that he retreated to disdain, but even his disdain was dripping with worry.
"I feel nothing to that which is not real."
The doctor then stared at him for several moments, allowed the sentence to register, and finally felt his heart sink to his feet.
"Spock...I'm, I'm not a hallucination. I'm here, I'm really here. Jim is too, we came for you."
Spock said nothing and let his eyes slip away to stare at the wall. Impulsively, McCoy grabbed Spock's shoulders and shook them.
"You need to pull it together, Spock, I need you here, in this moment, or else we may not make it back!" He quickly dropped his hands like rocks when Spock hissed in pain.
"Sorry," McCoy blubbered in a stutter, running his eyes over him once more. He had never really heard Spock make that sound. Spock just blinked rapidly and looked up at McCoy in a new way, in an incredulous way with a small light in his eye.
"You are here…" he concluded to himself remarkably. His voice finally began to sound like Spock, but it was still soft and weak. McCoy nodded.
"Yeah, Spock, I am. Are you?"
"I...was beginning to lose myself. I believe you and Jim have...although..."
"Are there any keys for these cuffs?" He chose to ignore the floatiness in Spock's words.
"No, not that I am aware of. But Doctor...I fear they may return at any time."
"Well I guess we'd better get a move on." McCoy brought his phaser up to his eyes, straining to see in the dim light, and adjusted the settings. "Christ, Spock, you sound like shit."
"I…" Spock paused, and McCoy looked up at him. The absence of color in his skin and the way Spock hung his head gave McCoy great concern, and he scooted closer, probably to assure both of them. He raised his phaser and activated the thin laser onto the right cuff. He heard the protest of the Klingon metal as the laser bit into it.
"What have they done to you?" asked McCoy gently. Something shiny caught his eye, and he quickly stopped lasering. There was something unsavory on Spock's ribcage. The laser retreated back into the phaser and McCoy inhaled sharply through his nose at the sight of something glossy, something McCoy couldn't quite see but he was beginning to smell, there on Spock's side.
It smelled like copper.
He reached a hand out and touched the fabric of Spock's shirt. His fingers returned to him green and slick. Beginning to truly see the fragility of Spock's condition, he immediately returned to lasering the right cuff off with more haste than he had before.
"Spock…" he managed. "What happened?"
"I was injured in the crash." He looked up quickly and McCoy inched back at his expression, possibly because it was the first facial expression he'd made. "The dog?"
"She's OK, Spock...Spock, what else have they done? You're spacey, and...and off. I know there's something else."
Like a whip, the voices of Klingon men outside the room cut through the air. Their boots stomped closely, and suddenly McCoy felt like he needed to vomit. No...no, not now. No, not now!
"Doctor, you must conceal yourself."
"Spock, I'm getting you out of here."
"Leonard," his voice was razor sharp, a sharp contrast to what it sounded like moments before. "Please, hide! Your sighting will result in the loss of all three of us. Please," the boots growled to a halt outside the door, "please, go."
His stomach in violent knots, McCoy pressed his lips together and stared at Spock for several moments. Finally, he stood and sprinted to the back corner of the room and slid behind several empty crates. He barely managed to bring himself to a crouch before the door opened.
"Well, Commander? Have you reconsidered your position?" asked the Klingon. There was only one, but...McCoy knew he had heard more than one voice. He desperately wanted to comm his captain, to ensure the man's safety and security, but it would be suicide. He kept silent.
Spock, too, said nothing. McCoy thought he heard the Klingon chuckle very, very softly.
"This is your last chance, Commander. In fact, I had to convince the head council to give me one more shot at you. You should thank me."
"As since I've been in your capture, I continue to have no information of what you seek."
"As your disgusting human friends would say, 'bullshit'," he snapped back. McCoy brought his eye to rest between two planks of wood in the crate, his vision a sliver. He saw the Klingon step forward to where Spock was and crouch down to his level. The Klingon brought a hand up and seemed to stroke the far side of Spock's head, with his hand clenched loosely as if there was something resting in his palm. McCoy felt a shiver go down his spine. He wanted to rip his atrocious hand off and fling it away from Spock's head.
"Tell me…" the Klingon cooed. Spock tensed ever so slightly, and the doctor heard the Klingon exhale in disappointment.
Then he heard Spock scream.
Truly scream.
His head was rigid against the hard wall, the weak veins in his neck popping as his voice ricocheted off the room. At the first note of Spock's cry, McCoy's body went absolutely solid. His eyes froze, his blood curled, his heart stopped, the air in his lungs evaporated and for a moment, he did not feel human. His skin felt as though a million microscopic bugs peeled under his flesh and nested into his skeleton.
He watched, horrified, as Spock twitched and yelled and the Klingon laughed over the noise. Spock couldn't catch his breath, but whatever pain was upon him wouldn't allow him to stop screaming and for a wrenching moment, McCoy thought Spock was going to die right there in front of him.
But then, without thought or plan, McCoy felt his muscles stand and step out from the crates. It was like his body did his bidding, rather than his mind, for he had no conscious control. He just stood. And he bellowed a word at the top of his lungs, a word he would never remember saying, just a word, any word, to make the Klingon stop.
Well, the Klingon did stop. And the Klingon whirled around in absolute surprise, his face already contorted in disbelief and anger, and the small cylindrical object in his palm fell but then the large weapon on his belt rose and together the Klingon and the Chief Medical Officer brought their guns up and fired at one another