A/N: If you're still with us, I applaud your perseverance. This is exactly the kind of absurd, H/C heavy fic I like to read, so I can only hope someone out there finds this amusing. Maybe... at least my jokes are kinda funny... right? Some of them...?

"What do you mean, 'he's gone', Spock?"

Spock didn't frown. That wouldn't be logical, however appropriate it may seem at the time. Jim had wandered in late smelling of alcohol. Spock could deduce that the Captain had likely had a pleasant evening. His First Officer, decidedly less so.

Spock had done a round of the complex after his meditation and had found the Doctor's door ajar. The bed was upset and one of the vases on the table had fallen. It hadn't broken, since the carpet was plush and the vase was, in fact, metal, but the evidence remained. Doctor McCoy had gone violently, whether of his own accord or…not…

"I mean exactly that, Captain. The Doctor was not in his room, nor did he answer his communicator. I eventually located it among his things, but it is disturbing to think that he would leave without it."

Jim leaned heavily on the wall. "Maybe he went for a walk, Spock. Bones likes camping and fresh air and all that stuff."

"Without his shoes, Captain?"

Jim frowned. "Ok. Maybe he didn't go for a walk. What do you think happened to him, Spock?"

Spock glanced back at McCoy's quarters again. "We can only continue investigating at this juncture, Captain. I believe McCoy may be in a great deal of danger."

He woke up on the ground. Chilled to the bone and not at all excited to be living, McCoy shuddered and tried to remember just why he'd opted to sleep on the floor. He could feel something heavy on his chest, and it took him a minute to realize it was his arm. It took him another minute to realize there was something on top of his arm. Bandages? No, bandages weren't clumpy like that.

The pounding in his head made sense again. He felt the chill run down his spine as he remembered the night before. The phantom pain of that hot poker singed his thoughts. Fresh in his mind, he relived the memory, the pain, the-

Something nudged his face. The dogs. Either they were nurses in this hospital they'd dragged him to or they were company… Speaking of company- Jim. Spock. Where are they? Did they come? McCoy began struggling with his eyelids. Whichever dog was attending to him began licking his face in encouragement.

Slowly, he got his eyes to cooperate. He saw a blurry blob backing away from him. McCoy blinked, trying to get a focus on something, anything other than the sledgehammer in his skull. Steadying his breathing was a different matter altogether. He was a doctor. He knew you didn't just walk away from something like that. Whatever kind of setup they had in this freezing hospital, they had to have someone he could talk with.

McCoy tried sitting up, only to find himself surrounded. Three big dogs lumbered over to him before he could manage to get himself off the ground. He recognized one of them- the one with the white spots on his nose, but the other two were new. One dog stood alongside the first, watching him, and the other pushed McCoy back onto the ground with his snout. It wasn't hard either, weak as he was and as big and strong as these dogs got…

That was when he noticed the leaves. McCoy looked down to find that his arm wasn't covered in bandages, but an odd assortment of dried-on leaves. They'd been wet once, he could tell by the way they stuck to his skin like plaster, but now they were clumped around and smelling like a rainy fall day.

The pushy dog gave him another look before going after the leaves. Attacking them with that very big tongue, the dog started chipping away at that pile. Midway through this strange process, McCoy's arm started to sting. Heck, it downright burned.

He tried pulling away, but this dog would have none of it. It went so far as to stand on McCoy's leg until he let up. Gently but firmly, the doctor was held in place. Pushy ol' thing. Who does he think he is? But, McCoy had to sit there and take it. Now, he could see the red patches on his arm, the streaks and scratches from the night before, where the barbs had dug into his skin. How long had it been?

The big dog turned away from him, and McCoy pulled his arm against his chest. He hadn't the slightest idea why this dog was in charge of his medical care, unless… Looking around, McCoy was surprised by his surroundings.

He was in a cave. This was not the hospital. That woke him up quicker than any alarm, and the klaxons were virtually blaring in his mind. McCoy sat bolt upright and tried to get his feet under him. The two dogs on the sidelines snapped to attention. His best guess was that they'd been trained to respond to circumstances like this. Why they hadn't taken him back to the colony though… Were they too far out? Had they just taken shelter there?

McCoy got himself up off the ground and started backing away. Now that he was up, he could see more of the cave. There were collection baskets filled with vegetables, scraps, towels, all sorts of things. Some held miscellaneous metal parts, some held fruit, and some held what looked like boxes of cutlery. Was this some kind of depot? Why had they brought him here?

The two dogs started padding after him. Were they guards? Did he have a chance if he turned and ran? McCoy got his answer when he backed into something solid. He spun around, finding himself nose-to-nose with an angry looking dog. This one was tall and slender and menacing as they got.

"Nice doggy…" He scanned the cave, looking for a way out. There didn't appear to be any exits that weren't filled with dogs… McCoy counted at least four others before Big & Angry jabbed him in the chest with his giant snout. Bewildered, the doctor stumbled back. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to leave. He was a prisoner again. Unfortunately, he couldn't tell which captors were more dangerous.

The leaf-dog came to his rescue. It actually had leaves in its large mouth when it moved between McCoy and his adversary. That was when it clicked. The cuts and scrapes on his arm had stopped bleeding, and the whole area looked to be on the mend. This planet had more surprises than he could process. These leaves were medicinal.

"You're a regular Rin Tin Tin, aren't you?" McCoy studied the dog, best as he was able, to find identifying marks. If he could point this dog out later, maybe they could determine-

Rin Tin Tin prodded him of his own accord. McCoy was herded back to where he'd been, near the pair of dogs he'd woken up beside. Now that he was wide-awake, he could see that yes it was the spotted puppy from earlier on. McCoy knew he had at least one friend in the bunch. That last dog was still giving him the evil eye from across the room.

I'll call that one 'Asta', he decided, on account of how he's got the looks of an ornery troublemaker. Asta seemed fitting, and ironic, considering just how large this dog was. He had a head on every other canine McCoy had seen, at least. A veritable giant.

He was surrounded again. Some other dogs had come to observe, but they all kept their distance. McCoy could see several shades of fur, ranging from that black-purple to midnight blue. The longer he scanned the crowd, the less pure black he saw, and the more variations in color appeared. Now that he was looking, he saw a whole lot more.

Rin Tin Tin nudged McCoy again and tilted his snout towards the floor.

"I'm to sit, I wager?"

The dog stared blankly at him. McCoy sat.

Quickly, the leaves were chewed and slobbered all over the doctor's arm. McCoy almost started to swipe them away, before Rin Tin Tin took to licking. The dog smoothed the leaves out over his arm before retrieving a fallen leaf and plastering it on top again. His training was evident. Rin Tin Tin at least knew rudimentary first-aid and how to herd stubborn humanoids. Of course, it helped that the dog was just about big enough to eat a grown man. McCoy had no choice but to sit back and let him arm get tended to.

While he was being doctored, he took a look around the circle of wet noses and wagging tails. Asta had kept his distance, but the rest of the bunch crowded as close as they could without getting in the way. A well-taught bunch by the looks of things. No dog made any move that would impede another. He couldn't tell if it was mindfulness in the pack or just good training. And they all eyed him like he was a curiosity. Perhaps the Matrians' special variety of 'humanoid' had become commonplace, and something about Terrans appealed. That, or it was just novelty.

Rin Tin Tin finished applying his leaves and McCoy inspected the work. No loose ends were left hanging, no air bubbles either. This dog knew his stuff. Briefly, McCoy wondered how the Matrians had stumbled across this vegetable-cure-all, but Rin Tin Tin wasn't finished with him yet. The dog poked at McCoy's hand with his nose. He was to do something. Did the dog expect additional treatment on McCoy's end? He didn't know the first thing about the plants on Trievas.

McCoy lifted his hand off the ground slowly. Rin Tin Tin responded by wagging his tail slowly. McCoy lifted his hand higher. More wagging, faster this time. He figured he'd just about caught on.

"Oh, so now you're wantin' a thank you?" McCoy beamed and stuck his hand out towards the big softie's head. These dogs were all the same, wriggling around under his hand, making it a game for him to find a spot to scratch behind their ears. Rin Tin Tin played longer than his spotted pal, trying to move around McCoy's hand and nearly getting himself poked in the eye.

"Won't you hold still, you silly thing?" He attempted to stretch out his other hand and grab the big dog, but those barbs had cut deep. Stretching anywhere too much hurt like the Dickens. McCoy winced and stuck to one-handed petting. The dog had slowed when he tried to move his other arm. Finally, the doctor got the big guy to settle down. Rin Tin Tin wagged his big tail, but it wasn't so lively as McCoy would've liked to see.

Eventually, his interim nurse found something else to occupy his attention. The spotty dog from the colony pushed his way over. It sure looked like he recognized McCoy. The big puppy crouched low and started licking the doctor's face.

"Nice to see you too, buddy. Some coincidence, us runnin' into each other twice, huh? What are the chances?" Puppies always seemed to like it when you talked to them, even if it was babbling or silly noises. Older dogs got used to it, or as was the case for most strangers' dogs, ignored it altogether. The puppy's companion seemed to be of the second type, ignoring McCoy's chatter and butting his way in between the two.

Being nose to nose with a big animal made you notice things. McCoy heard the low rumble, barely audible, and spotted the slight fade to this dog's fur. An older one, by all appearances. Didn't seem too happy to see him. Before he could get too far into wondering why that was, the dog kicked at his hand. It wasn't a hard kick, no more than a nudge really, but the way it was delivered sent a clear message. This dog meant business.

This seemed like the universal sign for 'pet me', so McCoy thought he'd be generous to this old timer. "Somebody feelin' left out?" The dog's expression didn't change at McCoy's sympathetic tone. Impatient fellow. He proceeded dispensing affection. That's what they all wanted, right?

This old dog seemed to have different ideas. As soon as McCoy started rubbing his head, the dog knocked the doctor's hand aside and grumbled. McCoy tried again with the same result. The second time, he also got a tap on the face for his trouble. The old coot jabbed him in the cheek with his nose. Recoiling, McCoy drew his hand back and stared at the dog, wondering just what in heavens name it was driving at.

Lucky for him, the spotty dog came back with reinforcements. A much bigger, more regal canine drove the old timer off with a grunt and a flick of her elegant head. All the other bystanders got a move on as well. McCoy could only speculate a moment on what type of telepathic training would lead to this sort of hierarchy, when the big lady started sniffing around. She seemed to know about his arm, or at least recognize what those leaves meant.

And it was much easier for him to figure things out about her from this distance as well. The big lady had some white around her neck and a smooth transition of white to the tips of her ears. There weren't spots on her so much as there were on the puppy, just different coloration. McCoy wondered how many and what types of variations this species had in patterning.

After searching him for Lord only knows what, the big lady nudged his arm. "Alright. Y'all taking turns now, getting in a petting line?" He was far more wary this time, setting his hand on her head gently before searching out a good spot to scratch. She did as the others had, wriggling around for a while before letting McCoy do as he would. It was strange, that ritual. Was it some sort of game? Were they looking for him to do something else- maybe scratch a different place, since they weren't really dogs at all?

Eventually, she was satisfied and stood back up. She whined something at the pup before Rin Tin Tin made another appearance and dropped a blanket straight onto McCoy's head. He sputtered for a minute before sorting it out. The three dogs were paying him hardly any mind, save for the puppy, which spared him a glance whenever he made a louder noise.

This was his first moment of peace since he'd arrived in the pound. He'd been abducted, attacked, and thrown to the dogs, but he wasn't dead yet. His thoughts went back to Jim and Spock. Did they know he was gone? Had they already begun searching? The icy hand of fear clutched at his heart. McCoy realized that just because they hadn't been taken with him didn't mean they hadn't been taken. Someone could've just as easily ambushed Jim at the Minister's house, or Spock at the power plant. They weren't safe, any of them, while the Enterprise was away.

McCoy tugged the blanket up around his shoulders. He held the ends closed in front of him with one hand while resting the other in his lap. The dogs had thrown him a bone. He guessed that meant he wasn't meat yet. Oh sure, they were all service dogs, they'd been trained, but none of them had harnesses. It wasn't a stretch to deduce that they'd escaped and formed their own pack.

That couldn't bode well for the colony. These dogs were so well trained… Whatever telepathic influences the Matrians had over them appeared to be gone. The dogs were slipping in and out of the colony, stealing supplies by the looks of things. What sort of upset had the colonists caused in this ecosystem? Perhaps they trained these animals too well. They may have provided the key to their own demise…

Before his train of thought got too dark, Rin Tin Tin padded over to him again. If McCoy could read anything, the dog looked somewhere between bored and concerned. He had that head tilt going on, but his eyes… They were very much like dogs' eyes- Earth dogs, the kind McCoy was used to- but there was something else too. Speculation was cut short when Doctor Dog licked his face and started prodding him toward the floor. McCoy was ushered into lying down, and Rin Tin Tin seemed satisfied.

I'm meant to sleep, I suppose. McCoy craned his neck to see the exits again, but there were so many dogs. He didn't have a chance, either way. Rest would do him good. After all he'd been through-… He shook the thought out of his head. Jim and Spock would be looking for him, he was sure. And besides, staying put increased his chances of being found. McCoy settled into the most comfortable position he could before pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

Whatever in the world was going on here, McCoy was in for a long night.

"Captain, I suggest you sit down before you injure yourself."

"I'm a hunnerd percent fine, Spock. We gotta go after Bones. Which way'd he go?"

Spock caught Kirk's arm before the Captain had a chance to dive face-first into the carpet. In an attempt to escort the Captain back to his quarters, Spock had discovered something alarming: Kirk could not stand on his own two feet.

"I know that face." Jim jabbed a finger into Spock's chest. "You're thinking I've had too much to drink, 's that it, Spock? Well, I'll have you know I only hadda single glass of wine."

Spock's eyebrow rose. Despite the evidence to the contrary, he was inclined to believe his Captain. Kirk didn't smell too strongly of alcohol, only the faintest scent on his breath, which his Vulcan sense of smell had registered immediately. His behavior had Spock considering other explanations. There wasn't sufficient evidence…

"Captain, a single glass of wine, you said?"

Kirk hiccupped. "Tha's right, Spock. Now, let me go so we can find Bones." He shoved against Spock's grip, but soon gave up and fell further onto his First Officer. Spock took a balancing step back and adjusted his hold.

"Fascinating…" It was out of his mouth before he finished coming up with his hypothesis. "Captain, I believe you have been drugged." It was a simple conclusion. At the power plant, Spock had been offered a sample of Matrian Wine. He had turned it down, of course, but the fact that it had been produced piqued his interest. Why would the director of the power plant have such a beverage on hand? The answer was as plain as the wobble in Kirk's step: the director would not.

Kirk stumbled again, this time groaning and clutching at his stomach. "Spock, I think there was something wrong with that fancy wine…"

Spock did not sigh. "Indeed, Captain." He picked up his pace, dragging Kirk more than guiding him. If they were to find McCoy, Spock would need to make sure whatever was in his Captain's system would not harm him further.

His thoughts returned to the upended vase. It would be far too human to say that he could only hope the doctor did not suffer such violence.

He'd named the rest of the dogs- the ones that interacted with him- by this point.

The night had gone smoothly enough. He'd been unconscious for most all of it. The only time he'd woken up was when Rin Tin Tin and the spotted puppy showed up for a bandage change. He'd distracted himself with the puppy, named him Chance, and let Doctor Dog reapply the leaves.

The angry older one had been named 'Shadow', since he was always at Chance's side, and the giant lady was Miss Rev, since she seemed to be in charge. Asta hadn't given him another ounce of attention.

Now, the doctor was sitting on the floor. It seemed to be his designated place. The dogs had put out a blanket for him to sit on, and one of them- a giant softie he'd dubbed Beethoven- had brought him some fruit. It was a broad assortment; almost as if they were trying to determine what kind of things he ate. Maybe not all of these dogs were trained as well as Rin Tin Tin and his compatriots…

He'd stayed on his carpet with his fruit for as long as he could stand it. Before too long, McCoy started getting antsy. Watching all these dogs come and go was driving him up the wall. He had to do something, anything, other than sit here and toss around what passed for an apple on this planet.

McCoy got up at last. He took his blanket with him, but he was going to get a look around. Hopefully, Asta wasn't on full-time guard duty. He didn't want to have to sit around all day. That, and the leaves kept falling off his arm. It wouldn't do to let Rin Tin Tin's hard work go to waste. McCoy headed towards one of the big baskets in the room, one of the ones he knew contained useful supplies.

The first one he found was full of cutlery and napkins and the like. Linens could be useful, provided he could get his hands on some scissors. Knives would be hard to managed one-handed. That reminded him- he needed to get his hands on some painkillers if he could find them. These doggies didn't seem to be looking out for him in that respect.

Linens yes, scissors no. McCoy sighed. What was that thing Spock said? 'Stone knives and bear skins'? It was from some story he couldn't recall. Some escapade. He decided whatever Spock had been doing, the sentiment remained. This would be difficult.

At least the knives were sharp. If he'd had his boots with him, this would be a little easier. McCoy decided the most efficient way to get the pieces he needed cut would be to hold part of the napkin in his teeth and push down the other end with his heels until he could get a sizeable slice in. His weight should do the trick. Either way, this had to be done. It's not like I haven't managed worse. Lord knows those first few years in Starfleet were rougher than this…

It wasn't until he was halfway through the first napkin when McCoy realized he had an audience. Fabric still in his teeth, he turned to find Rin Tin Tin standing behind him, a little ways off. The dog had his head cocked one way, examining him. When it was apparent the big guy wasn't making a move to interfere, McCoy got back to work.

He quickly finished shredding the linen. The once-rectangular napkin was now one long strip with square corners stuck evenly in it. He took one end back in his teeth again and started wrapping over the leaves. Now, Rin Tin Tin came in for a closer look. Maybe field medicine of this caliber isn't taught in doggy day care. I'll show Doctor Dog a thing or two!

"See here, I'm just glossin' on top of your handiwork." He didn't stop to think of the dog equivalent of 'handiwork' and continued explaining around the fabric. "This way, all the leaves will stick on and we won't have to worry about them keeping." McCoy finished wrapping up and tied off the ends. While secure, the wrist and hand weren't much usable. His tentative assessment was leaning toward muscle damage, but the already shaky feeling in his stomach derailed that train of thought. Later, then.

The second napkin could be refashioned into a triangle sling, and that wouldn't take more than a minute. He was up and displaying his progress to Rin Tin Tin in a few moments. The dog didn't seem terribly impressed. McCoy snorted and wandered off. Everyone's a critic. Even the dogs. He resolved to leave it well alone and do some proper exploring. Not like they're letting me go anywhere else. Might as well get some information. When Jim and Spock find me, they'll want to know what's going on here.

The cave system was pretty straightforward in its layout. There was a long, continuous main tunnel with off-shooting corridors and openings that were being used for various purposes. Most of the dogs didn't give him a second glance while he explored, but some of them stopped for a scratch behind the ears. They all seemed to really like that one… He wondered if belly rubs were favorable to this species as well. Might be a trifle hard with how big these dogs were, but McCoy considered giving it a shot if the opportunity arose.

Midway through his exploration of a supply room, McCoy was struck with a realization- he had no clue as to how these caves were lit. Some rooms were dark, some were lighter, and most had enough light for him to see more than comfortably. If this was a wild pack, how did they accomplish it? Was there some sort of natural lighting?

He did set off on a search for the answer and discovered something interesting. There was what looked like a mineral substance stuffed into the odd divot or crack in the cave walls. It glowed, unsurprisingly, but McCoy was more concerned with its placement. These deposits had been placed deliberately, but many were in locations where the dogs wouldn't be able to reach, regardless of their height. Some deposits were crammed into cracks in the ceiling. Others were stuffed farther into a space than a dog could reach. Some even out of McCoy's range. As Spock would say, 'Fascinating'!

McCoy continued touring the cave system. He came across some more puppies looking for love, as well as several rooms that were being used as barracks. That was where he did most of the ear scratching. A few played that silly game with the squirming around, but most would patiently wait for him to seek out the best spot to scratch. There were many wagging tails in the big hall.

He did see Miss Rev directing some dogs with those over-large baskets. They moved like a well-oiled machine. The baskets were managed efficiently and with a good degree of precision. Miss Rev knew what she was about. McCoy could only assume, from what little he could wrap his brain around about this wild pack, that she was their leader. She was the right age and certainly strong enough. Her ears stayed perked up while she directed traffic, the white tips making her stand out amongst the others.

She spared him a look, but like most of the others, Miss Rev deigned to ignore him. That was just fine. McCoy wasn't done exploring. He had plenty of things to look at, as well as an abundance of fruit to eat. Every other dog that he visited seemed to have a piece to give him. McCoy didn't know how to carry it all. Seeing a dog with a bigger basket gave him an idea, so he folded up his blanket like a sack and started accepting gifts. This was surreal, and he didn't want to miss a minute of it. Wait until Jim hears about this. Heck, wait until I tell Spock!

Somewhere in the middle of a group of puppies, McCoy found out just what Asta did in this place. The doctor was giving one of the big sweeties a pet when the whole group backed off suddenly. Troubled, McCoy had tried to call them back, until he felt the hot breath on the back of his neck. Déjà vu.

He'd turned, swallowed hard, and tried to talk the big guy down. Asta wasn't having any of it. He barked at the puppies McCoy had been playing with, and they all scattered. To add insult to injury, Asta picked McCoy up by the collar and dragged him back to his square. The doctor had struggled at first. Being hauled out like a misbehaving puppy was undignified and somewhat painful.

He'd been deposited on the blanket without much ado. The landing had been rough. It wasn't too fun falling from about his own height onto the floor. Rin Tin Tin had appeared out of thin air, and he and Asta had a bit of a stare down. It made more sense now. Asta wasn't in charge of the whole operation, but he had authority. This was a Security Chief if McCoy didn't know better. It was starting to look like the pack had more organization than he had assumed. Again, it crossed his mind: what kind of mental training had they been given? Were the Matrians conditioning them for more than simple chores?

After Asta left, Rin Tin Tin found McCoy's bag of fruit. It was the most longsuffering look he'd ever received from a dog, and he couldn't help but grin and hold out a purple ball. "You want a piece, boy?"

Rin Tin Tin snubbed him, and McCoy shrugged. He'd make an attempt at peeling this monstrosity with one hand before he gave up and ate one of the easier ones. Doctor Dog could go find his own fruit, thank you very much.

Spock had played one of Jim's better cards: plausible extreme ignorance.

He pretended to discover McCoy's disappearance the minute that his Captain had recovered enough to sleep on his own without danger of injury. Kirk would have to sleep off much of whatever he'd been given the previous evening. That much was out of Spock's control.

Spock was gratified to see that the colony's Chief of Security was on the case. Chief Cadrit was a larger man who took a no-nonsense approach to the investigation- to a point.

After thoroughly examining the room- they found nothing- Cadrit made his confusion plain.

"Commander, I can't tell you what could've happened. There's no reason for the Doctor to have been harmed. He had done nothing to anger any of the colonists, nor do I know of any individual who had a personal grudge against him." Cadrit had been recording everything on his PADD with precision. "In fact, I do not believe anyone on this planet save yourself and the Captain had ever encountered the Doctor in any sense."

Something about Cadrit's phrasing resonated in Spock's mind, but he couldn't place the sensation at the time. There were more important things than syntax to be dealt with at the moment.

"That may be so, but the facts stand. Our doctor is missing, and he has yet to turn up anywhere. Regardless of whether anyone on this colony has a motive, McCoy has still disappeared."

Cadrit pursed his lips. "This is true, Commander. Did McCoy have any peculiar habits? Perhaps he was sleepwalking. It is not common among Matrians, but I believe that humans are somewhat prone to nocturnal misadventure?"

"I do not believe McCoy has ever shown such tendencies. Not as long as I have known him, at least. There is a possibility, however, and I appreciate your dedication. Exploring all possibilities and eliminating the impossible will most definitely aid in our search."

Cadrit nodded and glanced back into the room. "I'm sorry… That is, I wish there was something to be found."

Another interesting turn of phrase. Spock filed it away for later speculation. Cadrit left, and Spock combed the room one more time for good measure. Nothing.

Spock had learned all he needed to in McCoy's temporary quarters. He had gone over all of the evidence- or lack thereof- himself. Now it was time to meditate. The Captain would wake in a matter of hours, and Spock wanted something to show for his work.

Wherever the Doctor was, he would need to be a little more patient.

A/N: The things I will do on a dare... Next time, picking truth for sure.