Once again, I do not own Star Trek…as much as I wish I did at times.
Sorry for the wait, chapter two took a bit longer than I would have liked it to. I've tried to work in a little more time for editing as well in order to track down those pesky spelling and grammar errors, my long-time foes and the downfall of many a great writer.
As always, I'd like to thank everyone who read chapter one and especially thank Hannah, vegetaworshipper92, challengerspet, Kimberleah, and HannahPullings for their reviews. That said, sit back, relax and enjoy chapter two of War Games.
When Kirk awoke it was to a world of darkness. Vespertilio was a naturally dark planet; an ideal habitat for creatures of the night such as the Desmodians. Like the bats back on Earth, the Desmodians were sensitive to light. As such, their dwellings typically had no windows, no opening save the single doorway which provided the sole source of entrance and exit to the building. Ironically enough, the buildings themselves were made of roughhewn stone, giving them the appearance and feel of caves. If his situation hadn't been so dire, Kirk might have laughed at the irony of it all.
As it was however, Kirk found nothing humorous at being chained by manacles to the wall of some sort of cave-like dwelling inhabited by blood thirsty man-bat creatures, who in all likelihood were planning on torturing and maiming him as some sort of example to Starfleet command.
With a smile that was more like a grimace Kirk wondered when his life had become akin to the sci-fi, fantasy stories he'd read as a kid. Granted he'd known when he'd taken the job that life in space would undoubtedly be…different. Even so, some of the situations he found himself in were downright strange, even for a Starfleet Captain.
Be that as it may, Kirk refocused his attention on the situation at hand. He could muse later – once he found a way out of this mess. Kirk could only hope that Spock, McCoy, and Ensign Rick hadn't suffered a similar fate to his own and that they were safe, taking refuge somewhere. As far as Kirk could tell he'd been the only one taken, if his bleary memory served him right.
Last he recalled he, Spock, Bones and Ensign Rick had become separated by the thick smoke generated by their battle with the Desmodians. It was then, when they had been their most vulnerable, battle-weary and worn down by the constant bombardment of explosives that the Desmodians had closed in on them.
Flying like demons out of the smog, three of the creatures had converged upon him with near superhuman speed. The first, he had managed to take out with a well-placed blast from his phaser. Before he could even think about using his weapon again however, the remaining two were upon him…
'With a furious screech and motion of it's massive, clawed hand, the Desmodian batted Kirk's phaser from his hand and grasped the stunned Captain in a chokehold.
Sharp claws dug into Kirk's flesh, drawing blood from the wounds they inflicted. Reacting instinctively Kirk clawed wildly at the hand around his neck, his escape attempts growing weaker and weaker as his vision grew darker. Thoughts roved wildly through the Captain's mind – visions of battles won, meals shared, of time spent with Spock, Bones, his crew… Until his whole life it seemed had flashed before his eyes in mere seconds. Defiant to the last, Kirk recalled his weary mind to his current predicament. A person's life was supposed to flash before their eyes before they died, but Kirk would be damned before he'd allow himself to be killed so easily. At the very least, he'd be sure to take a few of the bastards down with him.
In a power battle, Kirk knew he was clearly out-matched. If he wanted to live to see his crew, his ship once more, different measures must be called for. With his last ounce of strength, Kirk threw everything his oxygen deprived body had into one final, massive kick.
Assuming that the Desmodians had a similar anatomical structure to that of the human body, Kirk aimed his blow for the most vulnerable area he could think of. Essentially, he kicked the Desmodian in the human-male equivalent of the gonads. And what do you know, the thing dropped like a sack of potatoes, releasing it's hold on Kirk with a pained screech.
Choking and gagging, Kirk's tortured lungs drew in precious air once more. A savage and sudden kick to the stomach knocked the wind from Kirk's body once more, painfully reminding him of the other Desmodian's presence. Not wasting any time, the Desmodian kicked the downed Captain again and again, giving the bloodied man no time to recover.
"Pitiful weaklings, the whole lot of you!" the creature hissed, even as it delivered yet another blow to Kirk's midsection. "If the Commander didn't want you alive I'd end your pitiful existence right here, right now. To let one such as you continue living, such a scrawny, spineless wretch such as you…I can think of no greater crime."
Seeing as he had not been intimidated by the Desmodian's physical advances, Kirk saw no reason to cave into it's words. Offering up the most defiant glare he could muster under the conditions, Kirk's voice practically dripped with venom as he spoke, "And you call me…the spineless…one? As far as I see it…you're the only one here…kicking a downed man."
Without even realizing it, the Desmodian flinched, cringing at the raw power those hazel eyes held. Never before had the warrior seen wounded prey look so defiant, so…dangerous. It was as if the human before him would spring up at a moment's notice and slit his throat.
When the paralytic effect from Kirk's gaze had worn off, warrior pride and rage replaced hesitation and terror. "You may be defiant now but you'll beg before the end human. I vow upon my warrior's pride, I'll break you."
In spite of his situation, Kirk couldn't help but give a smug smile in return. He'd heard those words so many times in his short Starfleet career he'd almost built up an immunity to their impact. "I look forward to the challenge, though I fear I may drive you batty long before you break me." In the grand scheme of things, insulting the warmongering Desmodian further probably wasn't his best idea but Kirk simply couldn't resist the urge to throw in a jibe or two. The Desmodian had practically set itself up for that pun after all, the Captain thought with a wry smile. Unfortunately for him however, the Desmodian race didn't take well to jokes…or at least this particular Desmodian didn't.
Last Kirk had seen before blacking out was the savage scowl on the warrior's face as it drove the butt-end of it's spear home, upside his cranium.'
And that, the Captain supposed was how he'd been taken prisoner…and wound up in this dungeon of sorts.
Testing the chains shackled to his wrists and ankles with a mighty tug, Kirk stifled a cry of pain. In trying to break free, the chains binding him had only dug into his exposed flesh even more, drawing precious blood with their bite.
"Okay… Obviously not one of my brightest ideas," Kirk grimaced. "Brute force doesn't appear to be the answer; these shackles are way too sturdy for that. So then how…?" As if by magic, the chains themselves provided the solution to the Captain's conundrum and fell to the earthen ground with a heavy clank. "What in the world?" What was going on? Not that he was complaining about being released but it seemed so unlikely that the chains had fallen off of their own accord.
Perhaps this was a trick of sorts? But if the Desmodians already had him captured, why risk the chance of him escaping? Or were they so cocky and self-assured of their own capabilities that it didn't matter? Whatever the case, the whole scenario left an unsettling feeling in Kirk's gut. It was obvious he was being set up for he only knew what and yet given his circumstances Kirk had little choice but to proceed. He had to make it back to Spock and Bones after all to make sure that they were all right and if that meant playing into the enemy's hands then so be it.
Aching joints and muscles begrudgingly cooperated, creaking in protest as Kirk crept along his enclosure. Keeping low to the ground, the weary Captain felt his way with his hands. Making his way through the pitch blackness, Kirk's hand groped onto something cold, jagged and solid – stone, the wall of his prison. "Good, now all I have to do is find the door and I'm home free. Who knows, perhaps my luck will hold and the door will be unlocked too."
Daring to make his way around the cell, Kirk groped the rocky structure high and low in search of his escape route. Several laps around the cell failed to yield the long sought after door and before long even Kirk's stalwart resolve began to waiver. Had he just missed it in his search? Was it a trick door or perhaps a little higher off the ground than he'd expected? The Desmodian's were bat-like creatures after all and possessed wings. Perhaps they could fly too.
A thrill of dread sent shivers down Kirk's spine as realization dawned upon him. If the Desmodians could really fly then that meant… A rare flash of light peaked from behind the clouds and briefly illuminated the tiny cell long enough to confirm the Captain's worst fears. "The only way out is up." Up and up indeed and through a tiny hole at the uppermost recesses of the dungeon, several stories at least above the rocky floor. It seemed as if the Captain's brief streak of fortune had come to an end.
"Doctor if you would just hold still long enough to set your hand…" Attempting to bind McCoy's hand with the scanty medical supplies that had survived the Desmodian assault in the scanty light of the abandoned bunker complex they were holed up in proved difficult enough without the Doctor's childish antics, making the task at hand more difficult than even Spock could ever have anticipated. With just a trace of bewilderment and wonder, Spock wondered how it was that humans could be so complicated, more so than astrophysics, quantum mechanics and multivariable calculus rolled up into one or anything else he had encountered in his studies or time abroad for that matter. Then again Spock mused, numbers, equations, and theories were all relatively straightforward and unbiased. Easy enough to comprehend if you knew what you were doing and humans were, well…to put it simply, human.
"Ow! Watch it before you finish the job and take my hand off would you!" McCoy snapped, instinctively recoiling his injured hand from Spock's grasp, a rare trace of irritation showing through his usually stoic countenance.
"Doctor," the Vulcan replied with even measure, "while your desire to protect your injured hand is understandable given it's condition I'm afraid your actions are counterproductive to it's recovery. Not to mention if we are to find the Captain, then I fear time may be of the essence."
"Do you think he's still…?" McCoy stopped, unable to finish. He simply couldn't picture a man like Kirk, so vibrant and full of life and Starfleet's venerable Golden Boy, stone cold dead. The very thought was as Spock would say, simply illogical.
"Given the Desmodian's tendencies, I believe that if they meant to kill the Captain then they would have done it outright during their attack as they attempted to do to you," the First Officer replied after a moment's pause. "The fact that they took the Captain alive suggests that they likely have plans for him."
"You mean torture?" McCoy gave an involuntary shudder and not from the cold of the bunker they were hunkered down in.
"It's possible that the Desmodians may decide to use the Captain as an example to Starfleet, which is why it is imperative to find him before they get the chance to do so."
"How long do you think we have?"
"I can't be certain," Spock admitted with some reluctance, "but if my assessment of the Desmodians is correct then I believe that they will try to have some 'fun' with the Captain before making their move."
McCoy frowned, not liking the sound of the word 'fun' at all. Considering that their whole society was based on warfare he could feign imagine what such blood thirsty creatures could possibly consider fun. "So…Do you think you can locate Jim with that Vulcan mind hoo-doo of yours?"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple Doctor. While it's true that the Captain and I share a certain…link, I'm afraid that in this case it will take a little more than Vulcan mind hoo-doo as you put it to find him."
"Great. Well that's just fantastic," McCoy snapped more in frustration that at his companion, running his good hand through his dust and dirt matted hair. "Well, given that the Desmodian factions on this planet aren't exactly on speaking terms with one another then that means Jim should at least be somewhere in the immediate area here. That at least narrows down the area we have to search."
"A logical conclusion," Spock nodded. "Taking what you just said into consideration I believe that the most logical place to begin looking for the Captain will be at the Chiroptera tribe's main village. If they're planning on making an example of the Captain to Starfleet then I'm sure their Commander will want to be the one to do it."
"Their main village, are you out of your Vulcan mind! That place is sure to be crawling with Desmodians!"
"I'm afraid that we have little choice Doctor. And besides, what better place to keep such an important prisoner than in your most heavily guarded village?"
McCoy sighed, knowing full well that Spock, as per usual was right…as he never ceased to be, through he'd never admit it to the pointy-eared hobgoblin. "Well, I don't suppose you've got a plan brewing in that head of yours as well, do you? Or do you propose we go in guns blazing and get this thing over with?"
"I am thinking Doctor," Spock mumbled in reply as if only half listening to McCoy, much to the CMO's infinite frustration.
"Well," McCoy prodded, impatient as ever, "care to share your thoughts?"
"I was just thinking about one of your Earth expressions…and how recent events have proved how accurate it really is."
"Oh? And that is…?"
"That doctors do indeed make the worst patients."
McCoy merely snickered in response. "Oh really? Then you must never have heard our expression regarding Vulcans on that matter."
"Vulcans?" Spock replied, truly puzzled. "I do not believe I am familiar with such an expression."
"That so? Well, in that case I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you the expression as soon as we rescue Jim and get the hell off this festering excuse of a planet. Deal?"
"Fair enough Doctor, but I shall expect a response as soon as the three of us are safely aboard the Enterprise."
"Oh, don't worry," McCoy replied, "you'll get one alright." Turning to hide his smirk from the questioning eyes of his Vulcan companion, it was only then that McCoy noticed the heavy-duty bandage acting as a temporary splint for his hand. Apparently at some point during their conversation, Spock had managed to slip it on without the CMO really noticing at all. Heck, he'd even managed to do a decent job of splinting it.
"Doctor?" Spock queried when he noticed the object of McCoy's gaze. "Is the splint not to your standards?"
"Hmmm? Oh no, that's not it at all. Actually, I was just thinking myself. Have you noticed that the Desmodians around here speak English? I mean, we're light years from Earth and any Federation planet for that matter…"
"I've been thinking about that myself," Spock replied with a thoughtful air. "I highly doubt that it is mere coincidence that led the Desmodians, or at least the Chiroptera tribe to use English as one of their main languages. More likely another Federation ship must have come here in the past and may have mistakenly influenced their culture or language. At any rate that is the least of our worries. First and foremost we must find a way to rescue the Captain and I believe I may just know how."
"Knowing you it just might be crazy enough to work. Okay then Spock, let's have it."
He didn't know how long he'd been climbing or how far he'd advanced for that matter. Heck, Kirk didn't even know which way was up anymore. In the pitch blackness of the dungeon he was in Kirk had little choice but to put one hand in front of the other. Then again Kirk thought wryly, perhaps it was for the best that he couldn't see a blasted thing. Given his height and location he wasn't sure he wanted to. Never before had the statement ignorance is bliss rung as true for the Captain as it did at that moment, in the pitch black of the Desmodian prison.
So, inch for inch, and foot for foot, Kirk continued his ascent, come what may. To help keep his mind occupied and off of the perilous drop that awaited him lest he lost his grip, Kirk had quickly developed an almost rhythmic pattern of climbing. Moving with precise, cautious movements, Kirk timed his movements until he had them down to a science, moving as if to the beat of some far off song. Right hand, left hand, step. Right hand, left hand, step. Repeat.
Caught up in the rhythm of is ascent, Kirk almost didn't notice a low, muffled noise coming from just below his position on the dungeon wall. At first in fact, he brushed it off, believing the noises to be nothing more than hallucinations induced by an overwrought mind. But there it was again, that soft, rustling noise not unlike the rustling of leather fabric.
Then just as soon as it had appeared, the noise disappeared, only to be replaced by the sound of crumbling rock. Looking to his immediate right where the offending sounds had come from Kirk's mind raced. Kirk swore that he'd thought himself to be the only occupant of the dungeon but in the pitch black of his cell nothing seemed certain.
Scarcely daring to breath, Kirk reached out a tentative hand, slowly, carefully so as to not lose his perch on the craggy cave wall. At the cool feel of rock beneath his hand Kirk let out a sigh of relief. Silently cursing himself for getting worked up over nothing Kirk let out a shaky laugh. Apparently he'd spent a little too much time in this dank prison of his. For the sake of his sanity he needed to get out of here and fast.
That's when he felt it – the feel of a great, furry hand clenching down like a vice upon his right ankle. The talon-like claws dug into his flesh, drawing a warm trickle of blood in their wake.
In the fraction of second, Kirk's world was turned upside down – quite literally. With a guttural laugh, the Desmodian dangled Kirk over the dungeon floor below by his foot, chuckling as it swung him to and fro like a human pendulum.
The Desmodian's hot breath rained down on Kirk's face, carrying with it the scent of stale blood and decay. "Remember me Captain? I swore I'd break you and I'm here to make good on my word. After all, as a Desmodian once my word is given it can't be broken. Did you know…This whole time I've been watching you, mere inches away from you this entire time as you attempted to escape? Quite entertaining really… From here I can see perfectly well how far you've climbed but I'm guessing you're at a complete loss in the dark of our dungeon here. Have no fear though, you're about to find out very soon just how far you've climbed."
The stinging grip on Kirk's ankle was released only to be replaced by the sick sensation of falling. Kirk's stomach continued to do somersaults along with his body as he continued to fall end over end in the endless darkness, into a black pit that had no end.
My apologies for the cliffhanger ending but I simply couldn't resist…
I'm always looking to improve so please, read and review if you have any suggestions or even if you really just like the story so far.