Summary: Spock, McCoy, and some other crew members are captured while on a scientific mission on an unknown planet. Spock has to keep everyone alive long enough for the Enterprise to find them.

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek.

Chapter One: Day Two

I watched Spock struggle feebly against the iron chains that bound his, all of ours actually, hands firmly against wall. We were all sitting in a row in a dark, soggy room with a dirt floor, dirty cement walls, and dirty bars that encased us. In the dim light, I could barely glimpse a green liquid trickling from Spock's wrists. I sighed despondently to myself. If Spock couldn't free himself, then the rest of us had no hope. I wanted to tell him to stop, but the words never came.

So, I turned to my left and observed the rest of the crew hostages. The other five—no, there were only four now, looked downright hopeless. One of two girls was crying to herself. A cadet, Cadet Rachel Willis. I wanted to comfort her, but what could I say that haven't said in the past two days? Don't worry, the captain will find us? Spock will free us? He hasn't even freed himself; his chances were slipping with each passing day.

No one has eaten in the past two days. Our captors haven't bothered to feed us.

Our captors. Boy, now there was some strange group. They could hardly be considered humanoid. They stood erect, had two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears, and one, miniscule mouth. That's as far as similarities went. Differences? Well, they had a bluish, gray color skin, large, wide, bat-like ears; large, black, almost iris-less eyes. Their heads were misshapen (on human terms, according to Spock), almost thin and bulged at the same time, small mouths, no hair, and all together creepy looking. Not mention that they don't speak English or Vulcan, or anything close to any spoken language.

They clicked to each other. Clicked. Like dolphins. The hobgoblin thought it was fascinating.

Well, that's fine for you; the CMO thinks it's annoying. That means we can't even beg for food. Apparently, they can't make the sounds necessary to speak our language, nor we theirs. Not even Lt. Uhura would be of much use here.

Spock suddenly froze. I swear, I thought his ears quivered for a moment. "They're coming," he announced. I sighed, slightly audible this time. The rest of the crew hostages quietly panicked. Spock looked toward them (he was on the far end), and said, "Do not give them any reason to hurt or kill you, understood?"

"Yes, sir," they answered, clear and crisp. Spock looked to me; I gave him my consent, and stared pointedly at his wrists. He glanced at his wrists, then sharply turned at a sound so faint I could hardly hear.

Then the sounds became louder, several different footsteps coming toward us. Willis whimpered. Spock sat rigid. The others shivered. I took a deep breath…


It was supposed to be a peaceful mission. It was supposed to be scientific. Capture was not supposed to be a possibility. We were studying the soil, the air, the water. We weren't disrupting anyone. At least, we had no intention of disrupting anyone.

I had told Spock that the water was unusually rich in nutrients. Could humans drink it, Spock had asked. Then he turned, hearing something that we couldn't hear. "I think we're being watched," he had said solemnly. "Oh?" I had asked, not wanting to alarm our five companions, Cadet Rachel Willis, Cadet Robert Watson, Biologist Carmen Rodriguez, Lt. Christopher Rogers, and Geologist Antonio D'Anzi.

"Doctor," was all he could say to me before getting hit with a dart in the neck. He fell unconscious. "Spock!" I had shouted, and I had barely confirmed that he was still alive before feeling a prick in the neck, then I felt nothing.


Those ugly, slimy aliens were here. 'What do you want?!' I wanted to scream at them. But I couldn't say anything. I couldn't do anything. I just sat there as three of four Clickers (we named them the Clickers for simplicity's sake) knelt before Spock, while the other watched us. Clicker 1 took out a syringe, stuck in Spock's neck, and withdrew some blood. Clicker 2 got a flashlight and flashed it in Spock's eyes. Clicker 3 just watched, probably observing the whole procedure. All the while they clicked to each other, and to my irritation, it sounded like playful dolphins just swimming underwater. Spock remained still, eyes focused on Clicker 3 and occasionally flickering to Clicker 4.

They finished with Spock and then did the same procedure to me. I breathed hard through my nose, struggling to remain calm. I glanced to Spock whose unwavering gaze watched the whole thing. I hated how they took my blood. I hated how they flashed that stupid flashlight in my eyes. I hated that one just watching. I channeled all the hate, and managed not to squirm at all.

Nothing particularly eventful happened to the others, until the Clickers arrived to Willis. She shook with so much intensity that I struggled hard against my bonds. I had to help her. She was crying, not hysterically thank goodness, when they examined her. Clicker 4 suddenly looked angry, and grabbed a black bat from the inside of his black robe (they all had black robes).

"Cadet!" said Spock sharply, "You will desist crying right now; that is an order." The Clickers looked at Spock; Clicker 3 looked especially interested. "Cadet," repeated Spock, his voice softer, and ignoring the Clickers, "You have to be calm. It is better to not cry. Crying does not mean the same thing to the aliens as it does to humanoids."

Willis meekly nodded and pulled herself together. "Yes, sir," she managed to say. Clicker 3 clicked something to Clicker 4 and Clicker 4 put the bat away.

"It'll be okay, Cadet," I added much softer than Spock, "Just let them examine you and they'll go away. We're not going to let anything bad happen to you. I promise." I inwardly winced, remembering Lt. Christopher Rogers. "I promise," I said again, more to myself than Willis.

Soon, they finished examining her, and three of the Clickers left. Clicker 3 stayed behind and looked at Spock. Spock stared back evenly in return. He clicked something at Spock, and then left.

"What was that all about?" I asked, feeling angry and relieved that the ordeal was over.

"I do not know," said Spock quietly, "But I do know that they are very curious about us."

"What do you mean?" asked Geologist D'Anzi. D'Anzi, a young, cool-headed man, was bound between Biologist Rodriguez and Cadet Watson. I was on Rodriguez's right; D'Anzi sat on her left. Willis sat on the left of Watson.

"They did not harm us; they took our blood," clarified Spock distractedly. I knew something was on his mind, the encounter with Clicker 3.

"That could mean they're using our blood to test poisons or something," Watson practically snarled. Spock craned his neck past myself, Rodriguez and D'Anzi to chastise him silently.

"If they wished to kill us, they would have done so at the time they killed Lt. Rogers," stated Spock, with no trace of emotion. Stupid, emotionless hobgoblin. Couldn't he just act like it was tough to watch? I looked at Watson; apparently he was thinking the same thing, and it showed on his face. "But since they did not, I hypothesize that they are curious of us." Spock turned to me, "Doctor, was not some of the procedure similar to our own when we discover a new species?"

I was still angry about the whole thing. About the Clickers coming in, taking blood, almost hitting Willis with a bat, about Spock and his zero tolerance of emotions, so it took me a few seconds to process his question, and a few more to answer it. I had to hand to Spock; he had a point.

"Some were, yes," I said slowly, "But we never chain new, obviously intelligent species to wall in a prison and kill one of them. That's cold and sadistic," I added.

"Lt. Rogers died because he provoked them and tried to attack them. They, obviously completely unaware of our abilities and intentions, reacted in self-preservation."

"Are you trying to rationalize Rogers's death?!"

"Not at all," said Spock, "It is wrong that he died; there are other ways he could have been restrained. However, if we wish to communicate with these creatures—"

"Or escape," piped in Watson.

"You will not interrupted me again, Cadet," said Spock sternly, "As I was saying, if we wish to communicate or escape, we must learn everything there is learn about them. We must be acquainted with their schedules, lifestyles, and especially weaknesses."

In that case, "What about Clicker 3?" I asked.

Spock considered his answer. "I am not sure, but Clicker 3 is the most compassionate of the four."

"What makes you say that?" asked D'Anzi with honest curiosity.

"He is the most curious."

Author's Note:

Well, I think I might stop here. So, any thoughts, questions, comments, or criticism? In case you didn't catch on, this story will be told, for the most part, strictly in Dr. McCoy's POV. I've just realized I didn't really mention the Enterprise. Don't worry, now that I've written it down, I will for sure remember for next chapter. Don't worry, I do have a plot in mind.