AN: …I feel as though I've rather shot myself in the foot with that last act. I mean, yeah, good times, but now the bar's, like…high. With lofty…art… Anyway, all that introspection and character growth? Incidental. This story is about beating the shit out of our dear captain with only the vaguest veneer of "Of course there's a plot in there somewhere! …See, it's plotty! There's…characters doing stuff!" Some of these scenarios are down-right ridiculous, as evidenced by Act 3. Really, the sheer ridiculousness just makes me feel as though I'm upholding the proud Star Trek: TOS-meets-fangirls tradition of "AND THEN KIRK WAS INJURED!"

So for this act, remember: There's characters doing stuff and Kirk is injured. Before the show even starts, he's injured. They're injuring him right now as we…communicate…

Act 3

In Which the Crew of the Enterprise and a Cult

Have a Misunderstanding

"Chekov to Enterprise."

"Enterprise here. Go on, Mr. Chekov."

"I can't find Captain Kirk."

"…Please repeat last transmission?"

"I can't find the captain. He was right here; I don't know where he could have gone." Chekov glanced around the bazaar nervously, trying to guess how much trouble he was in. His orders to keep both eyes on Kirk at all times no matter what had been pretty clear, after all. "If you trace his signal and tell me where it is, I will go get him. It will take no time at all."

"Stand by for transport."

Chekov startled. "I do not think it would be wise to remove me from—"

The light of two transporter beams fizzled on either side of him, collating into the forms of Mr. Spock and a furious Dr. McCoy.

"You said you could watch him," the doctor hissed, vibrating with rage. "You said it would be easy!"

Chekov flinched away, lifting both hands in supplication. "I did not anticipate his vanishing!"

"This is James Kirk! Of course he vanishes!"

"Dr. McCoy," Spock interrupted placidly, his attention on the scanner in his hand beeping faintly as it search for the captain's frequency, "perhaps now is not the best time to scold Mr. Chekov. Our mission is to locate and retrieve Captain Kirk, a mission that becomes exponentially more difficult as time passes." He lifted dark eyes to McCoy's. "Our priority must be the captain."

Bones shot Chekov one more glare before relenting. "Alright. Where's the last place you saw him?"

"—and rejoice, my followers! For soon the Great One will be satisfied in our—"

McCoy, Spock, and Chekov huddled together behind an outcropping of rocks, eavesdropping on the maniac who had kidnapped their captain. All three had their phasers out, set to stun, and were waiting for even the smallest of openings to launch their assault. It would have been better if they could establish contact with the Enterprise first, but the cave in which they hid was made a of a geothermal material that blocked their transmissions. Naturally.

"—started in an offering of pain, but only the blood and heart of this worthy sacrifice—"

"Let me see if I'm understanding this situation," Bones muttered to Spock, adjusting his grip on the phaser. "They kidnapped Jim to sacrifice him to appease their god."

"Correct, Doctor."

"And they don't know who he is, much less that he's a Starfleet officer, the captain of the newest flagship."

"Nor do they seem to care."

"It's not political."

"It would not seem so."

"Jim just happened to be there, with blue eyes, when they needed a blue eyed sacrifice."

"Indeed."

"Damn it, Jim," McCoy snarled, thumb twitching with the desire to shift the phaser to a setting far higher than stun. "After all the effort I've put in to keeping that man alive, he is not allowed to be sacrificed to a random pagan god. Or any gods, for that matter."

Spock twisted to peer around the rocks again, calculating odds. "I quite agree, Dr. McCoy." Thirteen followers, all surrounding the altar of stone upon which Jim Kirk was tied. The leader stood over Kirk, both arms lifted, a bloody dagger in his right hand. None of them appeared to be armed, but the proximity of that dagger to Jim was…disquieting. The last thing anyone needed was for Jim to be fatally wounded in the chaos of a rescue attempt.

Assuming he was still alive. He had been utterly still on that altar since their arrival, which did not bode well. It was a possibility barely worth considering, so Spock put it from his mind, setting it aside as illogical. After all they'd been through together in their year aboard the Enterprise, James Kirk would never fall to some psychotic world-dweller.

"And now, my followers!" the madman cried, dagger gripped in both hands. "It begins!"

Spock stood from his hiding place and lifted his phaser in a single fluid motion. He stunned the leader and his attendants in rapid-fire succession, one-two-three, felling them before they realized he was there. McCoy and Chekov flanked the Vulcan without hesitation, covering him as he strode quickly to his captain's side. Once at the altar, he turned, protecting Kirk from those who sought to destroy him. Chekov, who was as remarkable with a phaser as with a teleportation signal, took down most of the remaining accolades single handedly. The doctor was understandably distracted by Jim's condition.

He'd been tortured first, it seemed. Beaten and cut and stabbed, his forearms opened to let the blood flow. Only his face had been spared, presumably to preserve the eyes for which he'd been taken.

"Damn it, Jim," Bones said again, expression washed with pain as he gently stroked the sweat-soaked hair from Kirk's brow. "Someone needs to contact Enterprise," he added softly to Spock, who only lowered his phaser when Chekov finished tying up the last of the unconscious cultists. "There isn't much I can do for him here. I lost most of my supplies while we were searching."

"Mr. Chekov," Spock called. The officer lifted his head, anger plain on his face as he cinched the ropes a litter tighter than might be strictly necessary. "Find a signal and alert the Enterprise to our situation. Dr. McCoy and I will follow shortly with Captain Kirk. We are to be transported to the ship immediately. Once that is done, contact local authorities to handle these…people. Be sure they know exactly who it is they allowed to be assaulted on their planet, and make it clear that the Federation and Starfleet will both be participating in the trials awaiting this faction of fanatics."

"Yes sir!" Chekov barked, snapping a salute before running from the cave.

"I don't want to move him," Bones admitted when Spock knelt by him. The bandages on Kirk's forearms were already spotted with fresh blood as McCoy fought to stabilize him. "He's in a bad state right now. Who knows what transportation will do."

Spock studied his injured captain for a brief moment before busying himself with removing the shackles at his wrists and ankles. From the bruising and lacerations, Jim had put up a hell of a fight. "We must move him, Doctor. You will need your staff and full use of the sickbay to save him. He must be moved."

Bones' mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line before he nodded once. He helped Spock lift Jim into a careful hold, arranging the damaged limbs just so. As Spock strode quickly for the outside world, Bones trotted at his side, holding Jim's head to keep it as steady as possible, since spinal injuries had not been entirely ruled out. As soon as they broke into sunlight, they caught momentary sight of Chekov, speaking rapidly and angrily into his communicator. The Russian looked at them briefly before transportation activity snatched them back to Enterprise.

The away team was immediately swarmed by medical staff, all of them communicating with Bones in the sharp, jumbled language known only to doctors and their assistants. Spock surrendered Jim to their manic care, striding to the bridge to brief Captain Kirk's command crew while still covered in the man's blood.

None of them were happy with the report, but Sulu summed it up best: "He isn't allowed to leave the Enterprise without a full detail of security officers ever again." He turned back to his station, fingers flying as he began a new branch of research. "I'll see what I can do about having him chipped with some kind of sub-dermal locator."

It was the most logical plan Spock had heard all day.