Chekov hurried back to his post on the bridge. He should have stopped at the bathroom on his designated break, but it was too late for that now. Besides, seeing the Captain seemed much more important than relieving himself of mild discomfort. The complete turnover of their lives put the small things in perspective. He'd have to wait the designated hour and a half until his next break to free himself of the excess liquid in his bladder. He could probably make it that long. He hoped.

The Tyrant wasn't on the bridge when he arrived, so he quickly slipped into his seat and started doing his job, muttering quietly with Sulu next to him. They had become closer than ever before after the events that had left Kirk imprisoned in the Medbay and a cruel overlord telling them how to do their job, and they were also at the forefront of the mission to save the Enterprise... as much as they could do, anyway, with their freetime scheduled into specific duties and their lives monitored at all times.

When he came on the bridge, there was a forced murmur of welcome from the crew who really didn't want him there. He nodded, accepting the welcome, before going to Kirk's chair and sitting down, where he could watch everyone and what they were doing. And it was only a few minutes of silence before he said quietly, in his usually booming deep voice, "Chekov. Where did you go on your break?"

"I used ze restroom, sir. Keptin." It was impossible for Chekov to call this man – Briggs, his name was – captain, at least the first time around. He scolded himself silently, because he'd seen others get in trouble for less than referring to the brutal captain as sir.

"I don't believe you did. In fact, I've had word that you went to visit the Medbay."

Checkov shook his head, unable to look at the man who was accusing him of what was considered a treasonous offense around the Enterprise at the moment. "Sir, I passed by, just to make sure zey veren't-"

"Weren't what?" His voice was hard, still quiet, and Chekov knew. And from the stiff way Sulu was forcing himself not to look, to do his job and not give away his involvement as well, the boy knew he was discovered. And soon he'd be in a cell, while Briggs decided how best to punish him.

"I was making sure zey weren't plotting to escape, sir. Just quickly so-"

"So you could be back here to do your job on time. Congratulations Chekov, you're here on time. And I trust there wasn't any plotting happening on my ship?"

"No sir. Zey appear to be behaving zemselves."

"Good. Carry on."

Chekov had to work hard not to let his shoulders sag with relief. It could still be coming, he had to remind himself. He could be sparing the boy to avoid further trials with the rest of the crew. He wasn't in the clear yet.

They were supposed to be figuring out what was wrong with the ship, although everyone on the bridge knew it wasn't something on their end. But for the sake of normalcy, they were stuck here as if it was, as if they could do something.

Chekov somehow got through the day and made it to his room, where he would be locked until it was time for him to rise for a communal breakfast and workout before going back to the bridge to do it all over again. He couldn't hope hard enough that nothing changed before the missing Ensign could return, and Kirk could get back on his feet again.

Somehow, Kirk's getting better was synonymous with everything returning to the way it should be, even though they all knew there would be a fight for the Enterprise once the Captain was well enough to do so.

Mia was sweating buckets by the time they finished the days work, and it wasn't helping that she had a mask blowing warm air on her face. Every part of her body was sore, and she was just ready to lay down and sleep. But first they were given a strange, gruel type mixture that was apparently nutritious and forced to find ways to eat it while also breathing through the mask. It was a struggle that Mia realy didn't want to deal with, but when she tried to just lay down she was forced back up by the old woman.

"Must eat. Keep strength. Grow strong. Free." The strange, eclectic mixture of words made perfect sense to Mia after a day of listening to it. Heck, it almost seemed normal to ignore full sentences in favor of the more to the point phrases and words.

So she watched the maneuver of mask and crude wooden spoon and copied it, forcing herself to swallow the horribly textured slop. At least there was no taste to it. She didn't think she could handle bad taste as well.

When she was finished eating, Mia was prepared to go to sleep, finally released from all obligations, but, as it turned out, they had a sort of story time after the meal. One of the boys, who Mia hadn't yet met but had seen around, stood up in the middle of their little hut and started speaking. It wasn't English, so Mia was at a loss regarding the nature of the story. But the way this boy told it, the enthusiasm in his voice and the expressions crossing across his face like water, easily, naturally... it was just as fun to watch him as it probably was to understand. This lasted through several of the members of their small community, each as enthusiastic and fun to watch as the last. There was much laughter, smiles that seemed wrong on the faces of these sad looking creatures. But she found herself caught up in the merriment, and when it was finally time for the stories to stop and sleep to begin, Mia found herself disappointed.

She slept heavily that night, and dreamed of a world where these people weren't the sad, despondent creatures they seemed, but the joyful people who told stories to fill the world with laughter.

When she woke up in the morning, it was the same routine; a needle prick in the neck, a serum hidden under the mattress, the same gruel for breakfast, a once over by the overlords, and then to work for the day. Again the stories at night, accompanied by the same old gruel, and dreams of better places. Over and over again. And Mia was growing tired of the monotony, as well as fearful for her captain's state. He could very well be dead, and she wouldn't know because she was stuck in this goofy civilization where the people let themselves be slaves.

She could only hope the lack of serum she received would allow her to flee, and soon, or she might have nothing to flee to. After all, Starfleet had been pretty clear about their orders to stay on board the ship, something she'd already disobeyed once. She could say the first time was under orders, that she'd had no choice, but this was completely voluntary, and no one would be convinced otherwise. They could leave without her and justify it by saying she was a traitor.

If Kirk was well, he could probably get her out of it. But a lot was resting on him being well enough to speak for himself, she was sure, and that couldn't happen unless she got back.

She breathed a heavy sigh as she continued eating the gruel, wishing she was anywhere else, imagining it was at least a flavored oatmeal instead of the cold reality.

And then her spoon shattered in her hand.

She frowned, staring at the broken pieces on the ground and attempting to figure out what had happened. And then shame flooded through her, hoping they wouldn't be angry that she'd broken one of their few eating utensils. But when she looked up, there was nothing but shock on most of the faces, and a smile on the lips of the old woman.

"You ready. You strong. You go to ship." She shuffled over to the mattress and pulled the vials from their hiding place; six in all. Six days she'd been here.

"When?"

"Tonight. You go tonight. You go when large ones not looking. You free. Free us."

There were nods all around her. And despite her desire to escape this place as soon as possible, she argued.

"We don't know that yet; I don't feel any stronger, so we can't be sure I am. And I certainly don't feel any faster than I used to be, which you said was one of the side effects of the atmosphere here. I think I should probably wait a couple more days, make sure everything's up to snuff before I go charging out of here. I don't want to get caught by the guards, after all, and get put in some deeper, darker cell, or end up dead, even. I-"

"You go now. Or don't go."

"Is that a threat?"

The old woman shook her head impatiently. "Can always wait for stronger. You here before. You here days before. That too. You much stronger. Can't wait until ready. Never ready. Must go."

Mia nodded. She had been exposed to this atmosphere before. And she honestly felt good before, like all the times she said she'd worked out, she actually had, and she had muscle to show for it. She hadn't consciously put it down to being stronger then, just as she didn't feel any stronger now; but the shattered wooden spoon at her feet told her that she must be.

She could wait for days, but it wouldn't help her courage get on her physical level. So she nodded and stood.

"Where do I go?"

The old woman smiled, her grin full of teeth that seemed too perfect for the lack of dental on the planet. "I show. You free. We free."

–

The only time Nyota Uhura wasn't watched was when she was in the bathroom. Because that would be going just a little too far.

It didn't matter how she tried to convince them she and Spock had broken up, they wouldn't believe her. They didn't believe that her loyalties were severed from the Vulcan, and they certainly had no reason to believe she wouldn't be devoted to the Captain.

Of course, there was a reason for that. She and Spock were – for once – not fighting when he arrived back on the Enterprise, and Kirk would always command her loyalty, even if she gave him sass every once in a while. Gotta keep the man on his toes.

So it was in the bathroom, on her sparse breaks, that she was working on the communicator. Mia, in theory, had one attached to her suit when she went to the planet, but they hadn't been able to get in touch with her since she landed. It was possible that something had fried the communicator, or there were blocks around the ship so the Tyrant knew they weren't conducting business with anyone they shouldn't be. But Nyota was convinced it was something on their end, and Spock had agreed that it couldn't hurt to try. Well, it could. She could get thrown in one of the cells on the brig, but only if they caught her. And they'd have to enter the women's restroom while she was working to catch her. She was careful not to have any contact with the prisoners right now, which was beyond painful. They couldn't have too many people, though, and Chekov was the least suspicious of the small group that was actively working against the Tyrant. The fewer, the better. So she was dying inside as she waited for news of her on again, off again boyfriend and her friends.

She muted a curse when she shocked herself on one of the components. Damn it, she only had a few minutes left, but she felt like she was so close. If she could just-

There. There was a crackle, which she wanted to curse about as well. Any unnecessary noise and they might decide they had to monitor the bathrooms as well. And not only would that be gross and awkward, it would ruin their chances of getting in touch with their lost ensign, their last hope.

After pausing a few seconds to make sure no one was coming in, she moved to the far wall, put the communicator close to her face, and whispered, "Ensign Carpenter, are you there? Do you read me?"

Silence. Nyota waited a few seconds before sighing heavily. Something must still be wrong, then. She hurriedly wrapped the thing in the plastic she'd scavenged and put it back in it's hiding spot; the drain in the far shower that only worked half the time, anyway. It was the best place right now, although the easy to pop off drain cover didn't really convince her that someone else wouldn't find it.

She left the bathroom, joining her escort back to her spot on the bridge.

A few minutes later, the door opened to admit the next slated woman to get a break. Carol Marcus entered, tired and just ready for a shower, when she heard the crackling call. With a frown, she took the few steps towards the last shower, and noticed the plastic sticking out from the drain.

With a grin, she pulled the communicator out and listened as Ensign Mia Carpenter let them know she was alive, and she was on her way. Of course they'd been working on this. Marcus wasn't even hurt that she hadn't been included in the mission to get Kirk back. She was just glad she was the one who'd discovered the now working communicator, instead of one of those whose loyalties had switched to the most favorable prospect.

Now she just had to get it in the right hands to save the Captain. Without getting caught.