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Broken Infinity: I don't need puppy dog eyes, I want to continue it ^_^! SO here's chapter 6.

Moonless night writer: I'm not trying to pick on McCoy, but there's only four characters to pick on. Someone told me not to hurt Pavel or else. Chekov isn't really becoming more like Spock, he's just acting. He's starting to like being Vulcan a bit too much. But that'll come up later.

*** Identity Crisis ***

Chapter Six - Trapped

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Spock woke up first. His head ached and he was cold. As he drifted further into consciousness, he was aware of a bit more than that.

First of all, he was still in the room the chute had brought him to, but the chute itself had all but disappeared. It was filled with rock and ice, and it didn't seem as though it would be very useful in the way of escaping.

The walls were bare . They appeared to be made of ice, but with metal bars lodged within. It was hard to see what was outside, but it looked like a combination of snow, ice, and rock. There would be no way of escaping through them. That left only the floor, which was solid rock.

They would have to wait until the walrus-things opened up a way for them to leave.

Second, the fall from the chute had twisted the ankle of this Chekov-body, and that hurt too. Humans were simply not as strong as Vulcans.

Spock sat down against a wall to wait for his comrades to wake up. However, as the wall was made of ice, it began to melt and soak his jacket.

A thought flashed through his mind. Could they somehow melt the ice and escape?

No, there were the metal bars. And they were probably underground. He answered his own question almost as soon as he thought of it.

He walked over the center of the room, where he would at least not have to lean against the ice.

Finally, after a few minutes, Chekov began to stir. He groaned, than lifted his head up.

"Does your head hurt es much es mine?" he said, his accent back. It seemed to have been reborn in the confusion of all that had happened.

"That is an illogical question," Spock said. He would have to know how much pain Chekov was in to answer.

Chekov sighed loudly and dramatically. "Vhere are ve?"

"I am assuming we are still on Seti Olan Two. We are in a cell of some sort."

"Observant," Chekov muttered sarcastically under his breath, knowing that with human ears Spock wouldn't be able to hear him.

Doctor McCoy awoke next. He put a hand to his head.

"Well," he muttered, "It looks like we're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

He sat up, and looked around confusedly. "No, Kansas is much warmer. And my head hurts."

Only silence. McCoy looked irritably at everyone but Roberts, who was still lying on the ground where he had fallen.

"So. why don't we talk or something? It's bad enough we're stuck here. Do we have to be stuck here in silence? Does anyone know what's going on? Where are we? Where's Jim? Can we contact the ship? Is everyone okay? C'mon, people, talk!"

"Doctor, we know as much as you do. We are in a cell of some sort on Seti Olan Two. I do not know where the captain is at this moment. I doubt we will be able to contact the ship. I believe we are, for the most part, 'okay.'" There was an obvious sigh in Spock's voice.

"You doubt we can contact the ship.? Oh wait, my communicator's gone."

"Mine too," Chekov said ruefully.

"As is mine."

They sat in silence for a little while longer, and then Roberts began to move. He sat up slowly, saying things that will not be repeated because of the G- rating of this story.

"So what's the story?" he finally asked.

"We're stuck here and we can't talk to the ship." McCoy didn't bother to elaborate.

Roberts swore again.

"So what do we do?" Roberts persisted.

"Don't you think that if we knew we would tell you?" McCoy said irritably.

"Well, I'm sor-ry. Yeah, I'm so sorry that I ask bad questions after I wake up from being knocked out by something I can't see and wake up and I'm still old and there's nothing I can do and you treat me like I'm stupid anyway-"

"Ensign. That's quite enough," Spock said in his best no-nonsense voice.

"And what is this about me being old? I'm only-"

"Twenty years older than me!"

"It's not my fault you're-"

"Ensign! Doctor! This is quite illogical. Please stop bickering." Spock sounded stressed, but the tone in his voice made Roberts and even McCoy cease arguing. "We are trapped here. Arguing will only make the situation worse."

"Yes sir," Roberts said, the sigh in his voice rather obvious.

"Much as I hate to agree, you're right. If this is what it takes, I'm sorry if I offended you in any way, Ensign."

This put Roberts in a strange situation. It's easy to be mad at someone who refuses to apologize and continues to argue. But when they simply say 'sorry', you only make a fool of yourself by trying to keep going. So Roberts was forced to say, "Sorry sir."

"Well, now that that's over," McCoy said in a voice to cheerful to be real, "What the heck are we going to do?"

"I have examined our cage. The only exit appears to be the chute in which we came through, but it is block with debris."

"Now that just might present a problem," McCoy said, "But do you think there might be any way we could unblock it? Maybe the whole chute isn't blocked up. It wouldn't hurt to try."

"Logical. How do you think we should attempt this?"

"Well, I suppose Chekov could stand on your shoulders or mine and try to loosen up the rock with that new Vulcan strength of his."

"That should work. However, Mr. Chekov should stand on your shoulders, as you are most likely the second strongest at this time."

"Okay. You got all that, Chekov?"

Chekov nodded.

McCoy crouched down, inviting Chekov to step onto his shoulders. Spock and Roberts came to his side to help Chekov balance on McCoy's shoulders. They helped the Russian Vulcan to a point where he could stand up quickly and brace himself on the ceiling.

Chekov knew he had to do his work quickly. His Vulcan fingers, even through the gloves he was wearing, felt like they were freezing. He started by digging his hands through the loose crushed ice that was around one of the rocks that blocking their only escape. He pulled on it, hard.

Nothing happened. He pulled even harder.

In fact, he pulled so hard that he lost his grip on the rock and lost his grip. He came tumbling down from McCoy's shoulders, nearly landing on Spock.

"It deedn't vork," he informed his companions, though it was rather obvious.

McCoy rolled his eyes, but Spock said, "Perhaps you should try it again."

Chekov tried to move the rock again with no success. The only thing he did differently was manage to not come close to hitting Spock on the way down.

"It still deedn't vork," Chekov said.

Even Spock let out something that resembled a sigh. "That is rather obvious."

"What do we do now?" McCoy asked.

Roberts glared at him. It was perfectly fine if McCoy asked dumb questions. But no, when he asked what they were about to do, he got yelled at. True, they were his superior officers, but this was stupid!

While Roberts was thinking rebellious thoughts, Spock was talking.

"There appear to be no other escape routes, so the logical course of action is to wait until they come to check on us. Then, we can act."

"But vhat if they don't come to check on us?" Chekov asked.

"If their plan was to let us die here, surely they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing us here. It would have been much simpler to merely kill us the way they did Ensign Gold. Therefor, they plan to do something with us. There is an eighty-four-point-nine-three-two chance that they will come to us in order to do whatever it is they plan to do."

"When I understand that, I'm sure I'll contribute to the conversation. For the mean time, you're basically saying they should check on us because they went through too much trouble getting us here to let us die?"

"Yes, Doctor. I believe that is what I said."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for the next few minutes. Four-point-three-one-eight, to be exact, thought no one but Spock cared.

"So what are we going to do?" McCoy asked, breaking the silence.

"We will wait until the inhabitants of Seti Olan Three come to us. Then, surely we shall be able to devise some sort of plan."

A few more minutes passed. It was Chekov who broke the silence this time.

"I'm hungry."

Everyone but Spock nodded their consent. He could go on for a few more days without sustenance, though he would certainly prefer to eat before then.

"I wonder when they feed us," Roberts said.

"If they feed us."

"Doctair, sure they vill." Chekov sounded devastated by the thought of not eating.

"We don't know much about these aliens. For all we know, they eat rock and ice and expect us to eat through the chute we came down to get here. So they may not feed us. But let's not think about that. Let's assume we get fed sometime soon."

"Doctor, that is illog-"

"Shut up, Spock," McCoy snapped.

They had not been in the cell for long and already they were at each other's throats. None of them wanted to think of what it would be like in a few days.

Hopefully they wouldn't still be in the cell in another few days.

Hopefully.