Author's Note: Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Mega torture. Cursing.

Enjoy!

He didn't dare move. Or, rather, he didn't dare attempt to move. All he saw was darkness. All he felt…pain. Worry. Chekov. He must be just as bad, if not worse, by now. The poor Ensign was probably just as massacred as he was—maybe even dying, if not already dead. Scotty tried to let out a groan, but instead a hoarse, raspy, choking noise came out, followed by a coughing fit of liquid rubies. The Engineer gasped, only to be put into even more agony.

Darkness. All he saw was darkness. The cold, damp cellar he was trapped in and the hard brick floor he was chained to wasn't helping his recovering process at all. Scott wished only just to move a few inches away, so one of his chains wouldn't be digging into his already broken ribcage. Now, he wasn't a doctor, but he knew very well everything that was wrong with him. If he even had one rib left unbroken, he'd be shocked, and that led him to believe that he had also punctured one of his lungs. Breathing was near impossible. His collarbone, too, had snapped during the struggle. Scott didn't have to be a genius to know that he wasn't going to make it through this time. The only thing separating his martyred body from the stone floor was the thick pool of his blood, and a good amount of it. He was numb. The cuts on his face stung from the tears. Sure, the Engineer was tough, but after a certain amount of pain is endured there comes a point that a human's eyes begin to tear—whether it is legitimate crying, or just a natural reaction to physical suffering. Scotty's had been the latter.

Time. There wasn't much left. The mission failed. The Enterprise would not be coming to rescue them. As amazing as she was, her transporter beams couldn't reach them so far below the planet's surface. Not that they would even try. Scott had managed to issue a code green before he and Chekov got into the serious trouble they were in at the moment. Code green: The landing party was in grave danger, and the ship was not to do anything about it. It was so unlike Scotty to lose hope. Then again, he'd never been hurt as badly as he was before. Sure, he had once gotten a concussion from a woman that gave him random bouts of amnesia, almost leading to his own demise to be punished for murder's committed by Jack the ripper…

Scotty let out another gasp, cut off by what should have been a yell of pain but didn't come out right. His voice. Was gone. His chest wrenched in protest as he tried to catch his breath. There was two sharp, sudden surges of pain originating in his chest cavity and instantaneously spreading to his extremities, and he winced. He could barely hear his heart beat, and Chekov, oh, the poor navigator, he hadn't made a sound in at least two hours. No gasp of pain, no small little attempt to move. Montgomery didn't even want to try to determine the reason for that. The Engineer couldn't help it. Oxygen deprived, he began to take in a deep breath that swiftly turned into an asthmatic wheeze, an acute pain generating in his side from the sudden movement. He felt helpless and weak. Why had they even sent the Chief Engineer on this kind of mission? Or the navigator?

His thoughts started fading. 'No, no…' Scotty said inside his mind, beginning to slip out of consciousness again. 'Stay awake, they'll come again, you'll both get it, don't…'

Too late. The Scotsman passed out, only to be slightly roused again twenty minutes later by the sound of a door being unlocked. He was still slipping away, and he tried with all of his will to stay awake. Scott managed to get his eyes to open ever so slightly, only to reveal a blurry, spinning room that was only slightly illuminated by a new torch, held by a man, no…a thing, who was now the Engineer's worst fear.

"Tch." The thing clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Weak, filthy humans. How many times do I have to tell you to stay awake? Looks to me like you need another lesson. What do you say, human?" It had a dark smile on it's face, and laughed with the utmost contentment. It reached into it's pocket, and pulled out a long, leather rope…

Scotty's eyes opened wide, though it didn't help his vision. He opened his mouth to protest, to plead, but to no avail. It was not a risk that proved worth taking. Pain shot through every injury in the Engineer's body, his chest and his side feeling the worst of it. Scott coughed maniacally as it began to strike him with the whip. More cuts. More pain. He was dying. Scott quietly cried out, no where near as loud as it was supposed to be, as it's whip sliced into his skin. He twisted and turned in agony, but his broken bones didn't like that one bit. Scott's hands were flexed, his arms shaking in shock and ached. Each little crack of the whip pushed him farther and farther toward the edge. There was no way anyone could lose as much blood as he did. It kicked him hard, knocking him into a different position, his head twisted in another direction. He managed to get a slight glimpse at Chekov's mangled body, only to regret it. Indeed, the lad was worse than Scott, but he was awake.

One arm wrapped around his chest and grabbing his side, the other arm folded and attempting to push him upward, Chekov's teeth were grinded together in obvious torture. Scott noticed how extraordinarily pale he was, covered in sweat from a fever he had contracted. The navigator's eyes sparkled a dark red. A line of blood at the corner of his mouth down to his chin, where the blood he had coughed up had been over-flowing. Bruises and cuts everywhere. He, no doubt, had numerous failing organs and broken bones as Scott did.

It, after giving Scott one last kick to the chest (causing his breathing to temporarily cease and his heart to convulse in anguish), took four menacing steps toward Pavel, the reverberating sound of it's feet—feet? No, hooves—causing both the Engineer and the Navigator even more panic. No, no! Please, leave the lad, he's so young…Montgomery couldn't get the words out. He couldn't breathe anymore. He wouldn't. Too much torment. It had no mercy on the Ensign.

It grabbed Chekov's neck in an impossibly tight grip and forced him to his feet. His eyes forced themselves shut and his jaw clenched to reveal his teeth as he struggled, grabbing it's arms in a weak attempt to save himself, but it was futile. It used its other arm to open one of Pavel's bloodshot eyes and examine it. It seemed satisfied after that, grinning to reveal its set of two hundred thin, pointed purple teeth. It threw Chekov back to the ground with strength and speed that exceeded even a Vulcan, gave him four licks with the whip, then proceeded to leave, muttering something while doing so.

"Damn, that poison is working so slowly. Oh, well, disgusting thing won't last much longer anyway. Don't understand why I can't just be rid of them now." It murmured to itself as it walked to the door. It fiddled through its pockets for some keys, then stepped outside of the room.

"Filthy humans. This time, stay awake." It hissed as it slammed the door shut, leaving the two officers in complete darkness again. Scott heard the sound of the exit being locked several times, then footsteps that grew more and more faint as time went by. When he was certain it was gone, he tried to catch a view of Chekov, but it was no use; he could see nothing.

Chekov, as it left, had been on his hands and knees, attempting to gasp for air. His labored breathing rapidly became quieter and slower, so quiet that the Engineer could no longer hear it. Pavel fell to the side without a sound.

Scotty waited five minutes. He waited for some sort of noise, anything, any kind of sign that the boy was still alive. There was none. Oh, God…He mustered up the last of his remaining strength, but still only managed little more than a raspy whisper.

"Ch-Chekov, lad…" The Engineer addressed breathlessly. "Are…you still…" That was it. His lungs couldn't take more than that. He fell into another violent, bloody coughing fit, Scott's suffering becoming worse to the point that he no longer had any will to live through the day. Again his eyelids fell shut and breathing slowed as Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer and Second Officer of the USS Enterprise, lost consciousness.

Have you ever woken up and just known that it was going to be a god-awful day? Well, that day, that was what it was like for the Chief Engineer. He had awaken on the floor of his quarters, his right leg still on the bed, and blanket twisted over his chest. His neck was propped up against a nightstand, and to say it was uncomfortable was like saying "Hell can be a tad bit warm sometimes."

Scotty groaned and rolled over, having to pull his leg off of the bed with his hands because the circulation had been cut off for who-knows-how-long. The minute he put his head down there was an explosion of cracking sounds from his upper spine. Scott didn't even want to know how bad that was for his health. He looked down at his clothes, noticing that he had apparently slept with his uniform on. He sighed and stood up, only to collapse again, having put most of his weight on his left leg. The Engineer grinded his teeth together as the blood rushed back to his limb. His intercom beeped persistently, but he made no move to get it.

"Scotty. Scotty, are you there? You're needed on the bridge. Acknowledge. Acknowledge, Mr. Scott." The Captain's voice held some irritation, it was evident that he was getting impatient with something. Scotty limped over to the intercom and tiredly replied to Kirk.

"Aye, Captain, on my way." He said, groggy.

"Thank you. Make it fast, please, it's important. Sorry to wake you. Kirk out."

Important? Scott shook out his leg, trying to get rid of the pins-and-needles feeling. Once he regained feeling, he quickly walked out of his courters, the automatic door shutting behind him. Scotty jogged to the turbolift and stepped on.

"Bridge," He said breathlessly. The Engineer waited impatiently as he stretched out, cracking his neck again. The day before had been busy, but there was no good reason as to why he didn't sleep well. The doors of the turbolift opened and he stepped onto the bridge, his Captain and Ensign Chekov standing close by. Looking around the bridge, it didn't seem like there was an emergency.

"Mr. Scott," Kirk acknowledged. "That was fast."

"Aye, Captain." Scotty agreed, one eyebrow raised and head slightly tilted. Wasn't he told to come quickly?

"Ah, well," The Captain said. "We received a distress call from one of the newer colonies, Xenoan. It was priority one, but then it switched. Turns out they're having some major technical issues. Mr. Chekov is beaming down to ensure that the planet's condition hasn't changed and is still inhabitable; apparently none of Xenoan's technology is working at all and we need to make sure the planet is still safe." Kirk explained. "And I need you to help them repair their equipment. Think you can do it?"

The Engineer smiled. "Of course, sir."

Kirk returned the smile with his small, crooked grin. "Alright. Try not to take too long. See you both when you get back. Oh, and check in with us every half-hour. Okay?"

"Yes, Keptin." Chekov replied with a nod. Kirk gave him a pat on the back, then returned to the comm. Chekov and Scott exchanged glances, then stepped onto the turbolift.

"You look tired," The Ensign pointed out, slightly amused.

"That's puttin' it lightly," Scotty replied with a yawn. "I woke up on the floor." Chekov laughed, then shrugged.

"Oh, well. Eet heppens." He said. "Et least this should be a wery easy mission."

"Aye, but don't go jinxin' it, lad." The Engineer warned with a chuckle as they arrived at the transporter room and stepped off of the turbolift. Lieutenant Riley was standing idly, waiting for the two officers. He stood up straighter when he saw them coming and got ready to beam them down as they stepped onto the transporter pad.

"Energize," said Scott.

The pair was sent down to the surface of Xenoan. Scotty looked around at the scenery of the planet. It was relatively earth-like, though it seemed like the entire planet was nothing but savanna. There was grass everywhere, and what seemed to be a lake off in the distance, and one tree. Just one. It was a willow, from the looks of it. There was but one stone building, and there was no light in it. The windows were shattered and the door was on the ground a few feet away. A good portion of the grass surrounding the building, Scott noticed, was tinted red. Chekov stepped forward with his tricorder, going closer to the building. The Engineer reluctantly followed, but ended up bumping into the Ensign, who had suddenly stopped.

"Mr. Scott—" Pavel said slowly, sounding shocked. "This ees zee colony's headquarters, eet has all of their communication equipment and emergency tech." He explained. "Eet is allegedly zee only building they constructed yet, with zee exception of their dwellings."

"Well, then, shouldn't there be someone inside?" Scott asked, an eyebrow raised.

Chekov swallowed. "Yes. But there ees no one there. And…zee gress…ees red."

Scotty pursed his lips. "I can see tha', lad." He said impatiently. "That's where we're supposed to be, innit? Shall we go see what all the fuss is about?"

The Ensign said nothing, just stared at the tricorder. Scott merely shrugged and started walking to the building. The navigator trailed after him, muttering some Russian incantations.

If you've ever been told that humans can't smell blood, you've been told correctly. But if there is a lot of blood—a whole lot—you can. The odor barely registered in the Scotsman's mind. Pavel, however, hesitated for a moment; but didn't turn back since Montgomery was still going into the structure. He stepped through the door, then, and only then, did he stop.

Uh-Oh.

"Chekov, lad, go back!" Scotty commanded suddenly before he turned himself, reaching for his communicator. Chekov saw the inside of the building, then the two took off in a sprint. Inside of the one-roomed structure had been…bodies. Quite a few of them. No, that was the biggest understatement in the entire universe. There must have been at least six-hundred massacred humans—the whole colony. He didn't have to be a genius to realize they'd been led into a trap.

Both officers still running as far away as they possibly could, Scott flipped open his communicator. The two were almost near the lake now.

"Scott to Enterprise, Scott to Enterprise!" He yelled. There was screaming in the distance, and pounding drum beats, and…galloping horses? Whatever had killed the colony was after them, now, too.

"Mr. Scott—look!" Chekov shouted, skidding to a halt. Scotty stopped as well and looked to where Chekov was pointing. Random spots on the ground were opening up, hundreds of circle-shaped-grass-covered trap doors. Out of said doors came things, men and women with two white or grey horns on their heads, lavender-colored skin on the upper body, diversified colored fur on the lower body, skinny legs with large hooves instead of feet. Humanoid, but also goat-oid. They looked like demons, but you mustn't judge a book by its cover.

…then again, they also wielded weapons. They looked like a cross between a rifle and a phaser, and were all bronze in color. They were aimed at the landing party. Scott saw Chekov turn around, then he tapped the Engineer on the shoulder. Scotty turned around also, and saw that there were hundreds more of the things standing behind them, weapons pointed.

"Shit." Whispered the young Ensign. One of the women, apparently the largest one there, had more intricate-looking horns with black tips. That woman stood tall, and quietly stepped over to them.

"Tell your Captain you are safe. Tell him everything is fine, or we'll kill you. No one on board your ship will have time to transport you." She—it whispered quietly, her iridescent orange eyes narrowed in anger. Chekov's mouth parted open in slight shock, then his head hung down in defeat. Scott gridded his teeth and said nothing.

"Yes, Mr. Scott?" Kirk's voice rung out of the communicator. Never had the Engineer been so upset to hear his Captain speak to him. He swallowed hard, debating what to do. "Scotty? Are you there?"

He sighed. "Aye, sir." Scott said in melancholy. "Captain…we're alright. Code green." The Scotsman swiftly shut the device, which was taken away by it and crushed with it's bare hands. The Engineer and the Navigator both just prayed that the things didn't know what 'code green' meant. They prayed that the things didn't know they had just alerted their ship that they were in danger, and that the crew was not to do anything.

"Good," It said, voice wispy and echo-like. "So glad to see that at least one of you nasty little humans actually listens to your superiors." It dropped the remains of the communicator. Both officers stayed silent. They learned long ago that when confronted by aliens such as these, the best thing to do was just to take the insults and go along with it until they had a plan.

"What did you do to zee colony?" Chekov demanded, his tone sharp yet very quiet. It laughed.

"You saw, didn't you?" It asked, chuckling. "We killed them. Stupid humans can't even tell when their own kind has departed from life!" An mocking laughter erupted amongst the goat-human things. They may have looked partially human, but whatever amount of human that was in there had to be microscopic. The things were monsters.

Then again, they'd dealt with monsters before. It was not the first time.

The Ensign gritted his teeth. "I meant, why did you keel them?"

It clicked its tongue in response to Chekov's question, motioning to several others of its kind to come forward. Six of the things stepped up to the boy, their weapons held directly to him. Scotty held his breath, ready to step in if it went to far—which, of course, he knew would happen.

"Why?" It hissed in the same echo-y voice. "You disgusting vermin invaded our planet! You disturbed our peace, you wasted our resources, and you're just absolutely terrible!" It reached in front of itself and grabbed Chekov's communicator and tricorder, breaking the tricorder instantly but this time not destroying the communicator.

"But," Scotty started calmly. "Starfleet scanned the planet prior to the colonization. There were no signs of life here, it seemed uninhabited. And there were even teams sent down to observe the area—surely they would have seen ye all!"

"Indeed," It responded. "Which led us to believe that they were hostile creatures! After they began building on our only food resource and draining our water supply, we knew our assumptions were true. Ugh, and they made so much noise! On sacred ground! When we told them they must leave immediately, they did not…so we destroyed them." It was yelling now, it's feminine celestial voice echoing around them. "And it was…most enjoyable. A sport."

Uh-oh.

They'd dealt with beings like these before. It never ever turns out well. It always results in the death of at least two security officers, and everyone else in the landing party almost dying. A sport of killing? Killing humans?

It made a series of clicking noises, and the two officers were suddenly on the ground, pinned down by several of the beasts. A rifle-phaser (It wasn't a phaser-rifle, it just looked like a cross of an ancient rifle and a phaser.) was aimed at both Scott and Chekov. It made a screeching sound, and the weapons went off. Scotty only had a millisecond to register it. It emitted a sort of light—it looked like the same thing a phaser did, but they didn't seem advanced enough for that…maybe it was a laser?

The Navigator got hit first. He cried out in pain only an instant before Scott did too. Yes, definitely a laser. High intensity laser. He squirmed, tried to get away, but the guards held him down. The laser burned through the edge of his abdomen, blood already pouring out of it. It really, really hurt. Scott gasped in pain, tightly gripping the grass beneath him.

A roar of laughter erupted from the alien crowd. Some of the guards lifted the two officers back to their feet and held on to their arms. Scott looked over to the Ensign to check for damage—Chekov's right shoulder had been hit by the laser and was bleeding excessively.

"You shall go down to our Kingdom," It said, motioning toward one of the trap doors. After the Starfleet officers made no effort to move, It hollered. "Now!"

The guards pushed them, slicing them and shooting at them and beating them until they had both finally fallen through one of the doors and were on the lift that was directly under the opening. More laughter as the lift was lowered down. They had to be miles above the ground. (Or, rather, above the ground that was hundreds of miles below the ground.) Scotty and the Navigator groaned in pain as they attempted to push themselves up. They were already covered in scratches and deeper cuts. Scott gripped his side, the Navigator pulling him to his feet.

"Mr. Scott, are you alright?" The Ensign asked, concern and pain in his voice.

Scotty grunted. "Aye, lad. A bit worse for wear, but I'll be alright." He said. "Wot about you?"

Chekov tenderly touched his shoulder, then lifted his hand to his face to see the caked blood. "I've been better, sir. But I will live." He smiled.

They started to fall. They both yelled out as they plummeted to the ground. The lift beneath them was dropping at an alarming rate, they gripped it as if their life depended on it. Well, their life did depend on it.

"Hold on, lad!"

"Aye, sir…but I don't have much of a choice!"

Twenty feet before they hit the ground, the lift stopped short. Chekov and Scott were thrown against the platform by inertia. Just as they started to push themselves up, the lift tilted and they rolled off of it. They fell about fifteen feet, then landed on a stack of hay, and rolled onto the ground.

Chekov pushed himself up with his elbows, blowing a piece of straw out of his mouth. "Ouch. That hurt. Wery much."

"Aye."

The pair looked up, seeing a crowd of the things laughing their horned heads off. It, who they now assumed was female and was their leader, stood in front. "It hurt? Well, get used to it, you filthy humans. Welcome to our Kingdom…you won't be coming out alive."