Bones lost sight of the Vulcan as he dashed around a corner, to the sound of the lone scanner beeping. They didn't have an alarm system throughout the complex, it seemed, because that was the only sign that something was wrong. That, and the crowd of milling humans that suddenly had no chaperons.
It only took Bones a second to take off. Spock had run in the wrong direction, of course the pointy ear had. That was about how this whole mission had gone, one issue after another. But maybe Spock's distraction was all he needed to get Kirk out. And maybe the idiot would find them on their way out, and they could all get back on the ship and fly away like none of this had ever happened.
He couldn't have suppressed the snort that followed those thoughts if he'd tried. It was never that easy, and they all knew it.
He flew down the passages, even though his whole body begged him to stop. The day had been hard on him, both emotionally and physically, and now he was asking too much of it. But he couldn't stop. He had to keep going, keep pushing, because Kirk might not have long left.
There. He remembered this door, because when he'd been thrown inside the first time he'd taken note of the dip in the wall right beside it.
But now the real challenge came: how to open it.
It had seemed to him that the natives had used some kind of scanner built into the door, and it had taken pictures of fingerprints or something to that effect when they pressed a finger to it. If it was fingerprints, there was no way Bones was going to be able to get in, and he would probably set off the only alarm they'd built into the place. But they'd been lax thus far, clearly not used to outsiders with military background and a fierce desire to live.
He took a deep breath and pressed a finger to the small scanner, which was set just above his eye level. Immediately he began to hear the rumble that meant the door was opening, and he sighed deeply with relief. Something was going right. Maybe they'd get out of this yet.
As soon as the thought touched his mind, pain broke out in ever nerve in his body. Distantly he recognized it as the ankle shackle doing it's job, prodding literally every nerve into screaming with pain. He saw Kirk laying on the ground, not moving, just as he fell to the ground and lost awareness of the world outside of his own tortured body.
Kirk didn't bother moving, or even looking, when the door opened once more. He'd been having a pleasant dream about a group of women he'd met on shore leave to Galvin 5, and he much preferred that be his last sight to the ugly aliens come to poke and prod and kill. Besides, they'd do what they wanted whether he looked or not, whether he fought or not. This was easier.
When nothing happened, he slowly allowed one eye to creep open, and when he saw no one he looked to the door, which was wide open with no one in sight. He pushed himself painfully up only to realize there was someone – Bones, laying on the floor, his body wracked with spasms and his eyes clenched shut.
His first reaction was to run to his friend. He made it to his knees before the pain was so great that he blacked out for a moment, waking once more on the floor. To a normal person, that would have been a sign to stop, to hope for the best and deal with the pain. James Tiberius Kirk, however, pushed to his hands and knees, forcing back the nausea and pushing through the pain and dizziness. His pace was painfully slow, but eventually he made it to Bones. The spasms has lessened to tremors, but he didn't seem to be any more aware of his surroundings.
"Bones, come on." His voice was a whispered rasp, spoken around panting breaths. "It can't be that bad, you have to get up." because Kirk certainly couldn't. He'd used all his remaining strength and energy just crawling to his friend, there was no way he could get them out of here.
He glanced down at the shackle, which seemed so harmless but clearly wasn't. And it was beyond Kirk to understand it, so there was no way he could stop it.
Unless he could get it off.
He had nothing left in him, no strength, no energy, but if he only got that thing off, maybe...
He managed to maneuver himself to Bones' ankle, and after a brief hesitation he wrapped his fingers around the shackle. He'd half expected the pain to break through his own body, something with touch, but he felt nothing. As his fingers brushed against the cold ring, he discovered there wasn't a seam, no where for it to have joined together, but it was too small to get over the foot.
That was all he managed before his body gave out. He landed hard on his shoulder, but he hardly noticed it as his body buzzed with the pain. He'd felt pain like this before. He knew what was happening. And he knew there was nothing to stop it.
Footsteps. So they weren't getting out of here after all. Bones would be sent back to wherever he'd been or killed, Kirk would be put back in his cell. They didn't need to bother killing him, they'd already done that.
He didn't have to look to know the feeling of their hands on him. The whimper that escaped his lips was pathetic, but the tight grip around his throat was too painful, and the breath he needed wasn't able to squeeze past. He watched as one of them grabbed Bones, who wasn't moving any longer. Either he was too gone to feel the pain, or they'd stopped it now that they had the disobedient slave. Kirk assumed the former.
Clicking, always with the clicking. Kirk's vision was going dark around the edges as his brain shut down. Maybe he wouldn't wake up this time. That would probably be a blessing, at this point.
He was hardly aware when he was dropped to the floor, presumably in his cell to rot. It wasn't until he heard a familiar voice that he fought his way back to consciousness.
"Captain." Spock's face was a dream. It had to be, because he'd given up all hope of ever getting out of this place. So he closed his eyes again, hoping it would continue and he'd have pleasant last memories.
"Captain, you must stay awake. I fear you will not wake up if you fall asleep now."
"Leave me alone." He'd meant it to be a murmur as he went to sleep, but it sounded more like a choked mouse. He frowned at the sounds he'd made, his eyes opening to slits to stare at the man who knelt above him.
"Dr. McCoy, are you able to stand?"
Kirk barely heard the shuffling as Bones tried to get up. He didn't even know if the man was successful. The world dropped away as blissful sleep overtook him.
Spock knew the Captain wouldn't be able to stay awake, just by the way he was acting. So despite the little prick of fear in his chest when it finally happened, he wasn't surprised. What he needed most was for the doctor to be able to get up and move, because otherwise he wasn't sure how they were getting out.
Nor how they were keeping Kirk alive, but that was for later, when they were safe. Kirk would just have to stay alive long enough for them to be safe, and then they would do the rest.
McCoy slowly, shakily pushed himself to his feet. It would have to do, Spock decided as he watched the doctor lean heavily against the wall. His face was set and determined, prepared to deal with hell to get back to the ship. Most likely, he was having much the same thoughts that Spock was.
"'m fine. Let's go."
Spock nodded, internally calculating how much slower he'd have to go so Bones could keep up. The result was frustrating, but they'd manage. They had no other choice.
If they could escape this compound, they could meet up with the other three on the ground team, which would make their progress exponentially faster.
Spock slowly picked the captain up, cradling the man in his arms like a father might a child, and began the trek. He remembered exactly how to leave the civilization in the cliff, now. His earlier misdirection had lost precious time, but he wouldn't make the same mistake. So long as the door was still open. Or they could figure out how to open the door. And no one caught them.
There were a lot of unknowns or uncontrollable variables in this situation that Spock didn't care for at all. But there was nothing he could do, so he began setting the pace for their escape.
While Uhura understood that Sulu was the acting captain and she should do as he said, what he said was stupid.
She understood distancing themselves from the Spock's actions, because it would only get them in trouble and when the captain was ready to take over his ship again, he wouldn't have a crew left to do so. She understood he was just doing what he thought was best, and she respected that. She respected him, and what he did.
But just now, he was wrong, and she wasn't going to sit around doing nothing.
With a communicator by her side, she sorted through the collection of language samples they'd gathered from the surface and compared them to languages she already knew. There were a few that were close, almost painfully close, but they weren't similar enough to use as a base for translating. And it was driving her crazy, that the only thing she could do to help her friends and Spock was fail at translating a language that could potentially save their lives.
But who was she kidding? They hadn't received communication for hours, well past the typical check in time. Translating a language would mean nothing if she couldn't relay that translation to the people who needed it.
With a heavy sigh, she laid her head down on the desk in front of her and stared at the wall. She was a mess, and she knew Spock would scold her for letting emotions run her actions. Of course, it was a lifetime's practice for him, she was only human. Humans were meant to feel emotion, that's what made them human. But she wasn't a huge fan of that at the moment.
Another heavy sigh and Uhura decided she wasn't getting any work done, anyway, might as well call it finished for the night. Then she could go to her room and pretend to sleep. Because in all actuality, sleep was elusive for most members of the crew, and she was no exception.
Nyota picked up her space, covered in pages of dialects no one had heard in centuries and scribbles as she attempted to match them, carefully arranging piles of notes to come back to in the morning. Maybe she'd see something she hadn't after her eyes were closed for a while.
She was putting a few books back on the small shelf in the corner when she thought she heard the crackle of the communicator, but after a moment's pause she dismissed it as wishful thinking. She'd been hoping to hear that sound for so long, she wasn't surprised that her sleep-deprived mind was attempting to create it.
Still... she went back to the communicator, left on the desk, and picked it up, looking at it with the kind of intensity she usually reserved for her work. If they were trying to communicate, and she left it here, she would never forgive herself. Even if nothing bad happened, even if it was just a delay in their rescue. She needed them back and safe on this ship, as soon as possible. So she took the communicator with her as she left, gripping it tightly as if that would help them find their way back.
It wasn't until she'd been asleep for several hours that she heard the voice, begging someone to answer.