Kirk was aware that his body was a complete mass of pain, but he had no idea why. He was aware that he was a prisoner somewhere, but he had no idea where. And he was aware that Bones was trying to get him to wake up, that his voice sounded different than usual, but he couldn't figure out how.

Mostly he was aware of the pain. It felt like his entire body had gone through a beating, that he would wake up to find bruises and cuts covering everything. And he wanted it to stop, to let him be so he could do his job. As much as his crew would complain that he must like the pain, for him to get injured so often, that wasn't true. He just liked the fight, the adrenaline rush that came with it, the feeling of victory when he won or successfully completed a difficult mission. This he did not like. This was not the product of a good fight, but of a stupid lack of understanding of his surroundings.

"Bones, stop." It was difficult, to force the words over his tongue and past his teeth, and he was sure they were not so clear as he would like as a result. But it got the doctor's attention, and he stopped whatever muttering he was doing. Kirk forced one heavy eyelid up just enough to see the man, who appeared to have gained new worry lines across his face.

"Dammit Kirk, don't do that to me again." There was deep relief in his voice, as there always was when the captain woke up from some injury or prolonged unconsciousness. Kirk's lips twitched in a small smile.

"I'll try not to."

"How do you feel?"

"Like crap."

"Kirk, you're going to have to help me out here, I need to know what they did to you."

The captain frowned as he tried to take stock of his body. "Everything just... hurts." he answered.

"What's the worst?"

"I... all of it." After a moment, he added, "My chest feels like crap. Breathing hurts."

"Probably some side effect of that injection. Dammit, I can't tell what's in your system without my equipment."

"Then why are you bothering me? Let me sleep."

"Don't you even think of it, Jim. I need you to stay awake. There's no telling what's going on, and I need you to tell me if anything changes."

"Bones-"

"None of your lip this time, you... just don't."

"It can't be that bad."

When McCoy wouldn't meet his eye, wouldn't agree that it was fine or insult him for getting himself hurt again, Kirk realized maybe it could be that bad. Maybe it wasn't going to work itself out this time. But he wouldn't let himself think like that, because half the battle was in himself.

"I can't stop them, Jim. They come in here, with their foreign serums and god knows what else, and I can't stop them from hurting you. You're body's already in bad shape, much more abuse and I might not be able to bring you back."

"You always bring me back." He frowned as a breath was particularly painful, the air stabbing along his trachea both in and out. He kept breathing, because there wasn't much else he could do, but he took shallower breaths. He wouldn't die, if only because he wouldn't let Bones struggle through that.

"Yeah, well, you better hope that pointy-eared bastard finds us soon, or I might not be able to this time."

Spock shot the first of the aliens, and while it stumbled slightly, it didn't go down. So he pulled the trigger again, and again, over and over until finally it stumbled, eventually falling to the ground and not moving. Spock didn't let his brain wonder at the creature, if he'd killed it, if the difference in anatomy would mean something different happened. He didn't let anything stop him from pointing his phaser at the second creature, who had raised his large hands with too-long fingers in the air in a universal gesture of surrender. One shot to the right shoulder, just to show this creature he wasn't to be trifled with, before he started walking forward. The alien fell to it's knees, keening in a low pitch that Spock barely heard. All rational thought and logic was abandoned as he decided he would get the information he needed to find the captain. He would get Jim back, and he would do it before any more could befall the man who had somehow become a friend.

Spock pulled his communicator out as he walked, phaser still pointing at the downed alien. "Spock to the Enterprise. Uhura, have you made any advances on interpreting the language?"

After a moment, Uhura's frazzled voice buzzed through the communicator, annoyance clear in her tone. "Of course not, you've hardly given me any time, and it's a completely new-"

Without waiting for her to finish, he shut off the communication. He had the information he needed. He'd have to get his message across by other means.

He'd placed a foot firmly on the alien's chest before he heard the sounds of his team behind him. They wouldn't have any idea what was going on, having never seen the Vulcan lose control of himself in this way. But he hadn't lost control. He was in perfect control. This was the best way to get to his friend. They would understand when he was successful.

He knelt, leaving his foot firmly placed, nearing the creature's face so he could speak quietly, command it's attention. He refused to think of this thing as a humanoid, he refused to think of it as anything less than filth. Not when they'd taken Jim.

In the back of his mind, he reeled at the approach he was taking. None of this was logical, it was emotion based and ruled, but that thought wouldn't make him stop. Not now.

"You have taken two of our crew captive. You will tell me where they are, or you will not live to see another day."

The creature stared at him for a moment, humanoid eyes staring without comprehension, so Spock repeated himself, slowly. "What have you done with my crew members?" Even despite his break into emotion, he knew logically it made no sense to tell them they had the captain of one of the best starships in the galaxy. So Jim was demoted for a short time, until he could be found.

"Spock – Lieutenant Commander – he clearly doesn't understand English, and without a program to translate, we aren't likely to get any information-"

"Ensign, I did not ask for your opinion on this matter." Spock's voice was surprisingly cold towards the woman who was only doing her job.

"Sir, she's right, you can't just-"

"You can't just-"

Spock's head swung around to stare at the creature beneath his shoe, sure it had just spoken, but it's eyes were just as huge and confused as moments before. After a long moment of silence, Spock rose slowly, removing his foot but never putting away the phaser.

It didn't seem to matter. Before he could fire a shot, the creature had lunged. Spock felt it grab his leg before he hit the ground, hard, and before he knew what was happening his teammates had shifted their phasers to kill and the creature lay dead on the ground.

Rage flooded through Spock before he had a chance to stop it, but before he could get up and take it out on his small crew he pushed it away. There was no point scaring or injuring those meant to protect his back.

He stood slowly, brushing the dust from his clothes, and without a word to his crew he began scouring the ground for clues. When he found the footprints, he followed them quickly, without a glance back to see if he was being followed. He could hear their clumsy footsteps, could practically feel their desperate hope to find the captain. He felt his anger with them lessen as he realized they were just as concerned for their captain as he was. They just weren't as well equipped to deal with the situation, hadn't learned better yet.

Emotions were running rampant in him, which meant perhaps he hadn't learned better, either.

They trekked forward, through the excessive cold. Spock wished he wasn't weighed down by the oxygen tank, even if it was very light weight and compact compared to those of the past. Every hindrance could potentially cost them the mission. Could cost them lives. But Spock didn't allow himself to think of whose lives, because that could lead to irrational thinking. Again.

Spock wasn't surprised when they came upon a small civilization of houses made of what appeared to be plant life and the muck from around the river beds, dried in the sunlight and the cold. It was built on the side of a cliff of towering red rock, using it for shelter against the harshest of weathers in this hostile environment. Spock paused as he stared, wondering why it looked so wrong.

"They're so... small." It was Ensign Carpenter who made the observation, and Spock felt foolish for not having realized it before. The creatures they'd encountered thus far had been large, much too big to live comfortably in these huts. So either they'd stumbled upon another civilization of aliens, or there was something else going on.

The team froze as a shrill noise filled the air, loud and impossible to ignore. When movement caught Spock's eye, he pushed the rest of his crew to an outcropping of rock a few feet away, where they quickly hid themselves. Spock didn't allow the humans to look, instead putting himself at risk by rising slightly above the rocks and staring at what he saw.

Men and women – human men and women – were slowly exiting the small buildings, most forced to duck as they left the doors. Each had a shackle around his or her right ankle, but there were no chains attached. It must have some electronic tracker or punisher, Spock decided. They also all wore a clear mask that must provide oxygen. The Vulcan frowned as he watched them slowly move to the center of the small village, where a small podium stood. There one of the aliens had suddenly appeared, speaking in a series of clicks that Spock didn't understand, but clearly the humans – slaves – did. It was a short conversation and then all of the humans began moving in different directions, clearly given their duties for the day.

Spock watched the alien closely, but he only saw the creature go so far as the cliff before he must have blinked, because suddenly it disappeared completely.

Spock sunk down to his knees, feeling defeat but only letting his face convey thought. The others were watching him.

"It seems they are using humans as slaves. I have not seen the captain or the doctor, but I'm sure they will eventually be used in the same way."

They looked upset by the news of their kind being slaves, but not horribly surprised. They'd seen it before, and they would see it again.

"So... what do we do?" That was the other ensign, Catlow. He looked out of his depth. Spock wondered why he had been selected for this mission, because it seemed clear to him that the boy had never been on the ground team before, and this was a particularly important mission. As were all the times they were forced to rescue the captain, of course, but this time was on a completely foreign planet.

Spock shook himself out of his musings and made sure he had a calm, bland look on his face.

"We go find the captain." He answered simply, and began making his way towards the center of the little village. They would follow him or they wouldn't, but the only way to find the captain was to get closer.

If he got captured in the same way, perhaps he would be able to help where Kirk and Bones failed.

You're being illogical. You should plan-

But he shut off that part of his brain in favor of doing something real. Because he couldn't wait any longer.