A/N: This was, initially, a joke based on a weird dream. Suddenly, it became over 30,000 words and I was dared convinced by a friend of mine to post it. I don' take it very seriously, but I do like to finish what I start. So, once the plot went off the rails, I had to do the rest of it justice. So, here we are. 30,000+ words. Here's a warning for mild injury/blood type stuff, but nothing terribly gruesome.

Oh, and my initial pitch was "Get this: giant golden retrievers as Star Trek aliens"

Trievas II was an ordinary looking planet. Grass was green, sun was yellow, breeze was pleasant enough. The inhabitants were awfully hospitable as well. The colonists on Trievas II- they'd only been here a year or so- were originally from Matrio III, but their exploration program had brought them out here. Class M atmosphere fit the humanoid species well enough. The Matrians didn't show any ill effects.

When the Enterprise had been sent to the colony, they hadn't expected near as much progress. The Matrians had done a fine job of terraforming, as well as organizing their new infrastructure. It was a small colony on Trievas II, only about three hundred Matrians, but they were thriving.

When the away team materialized on the surface, the expected Matrian greeting party welcomed them. Doctor McCoy glanced around. The Matrian people, they'd talked with before. But the scenery-! He had to hand it to their exploratory service. They'd found quite the rock to settle themselves down on.

The plains were open. Grassy fields surrounded the colony complex. A few trees scattered the plains, gradually melting into a forest on the horizon. Like the report said, a gentle breeze picked up from behind them, flowing across the grass just like the prairies on Earth. Only, this grass was dark and rich, like something out of a fantasy novel. The whole image testified to the natural beauty of the planet. Again, McCoy thought, he would have to give credit where credit was due.

"Captain Kirk!" The Matrian official beamed. This woman was tall with the same short, spiky hairstyle that all the Matrians seemed to be wearing. The pinkish cuts varied between individuals- as did the freckle-like spots, Spock assured them- but it seemed like no one wore it long. McCoy thought it looked more like someone had taken a pair of hedge clippers to the entire population, but Spock had told him this was the norm.

"Minister Dalarian. I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." Kirk shook hands with the Minister and introduced his officers. "I believe you've spoken with Commander Spock, my First Officer, already. This is Doctor McCoy, my Chief Medical Officer."

Spock declined to shake hands and none of the Matrians seemed offended. McCoy offered his own hand with a smile. "How do you do, Minister?"

Dalarian beamed. "Very well, doctor, very well." She seemed awfully pleased. Perhaps the Trievas colony didn't get many visitors. "If you would please follow me. I'm eager to show you around our colony."

Jim nodded and gave his officers the 'shall we?' glance before setting off after Dalarian.

The colony was just as beautiful as the report described. McCoy was starting to wonder if they'd gotten anything wrong. The main buildings and the commons had been tastefully designed, accented with small gardens and trees. Each of the pathways standing in for streets was placed at a right angle to the next, running parallel with another up the way. It looked elegant, McCoy thought. The simplistic designs lent credit to their architects. All in all, it was lovely.

The only things that seemed out of place were the native animals.

Matrian scientists had assured the Federation up and down and sideways that there were no sentient life forms on the Trievas planet, only a few bigger animals and an assortment of smaller prey. 'Bigger animals' was right. Giant dogs roamed the streets. These were great big creatures that stood on four legs as tall as a man's chest on average, though McCoy thought some might be closer to his height. But they seemed calm, keeping to their own and not minding much of anything that happened around them. Most, if not all, were outfitted with harnesses. Even he had to admit it was a bit unusual.

"Minister Dalarian…" It seemed as if Jim was on the same track as he. "Mind if I ask about the… Unusually large canines you have here?"

Dalarian smiled broadly. "Of course, Captain. They're native to Trievas, as you may have guessed. We have no such animals on Matrio! But, we had no trouble at all domesticating them. It's amazing what a little mental training can do to a wild beast. Commander, correct me if I'm wrong, but do the Vulcans not have a similar relationship with your native animals?"

Spock inclined his head to the minister. "You are correct. Though, Vulcan boasts a multitude of large creatures that are not as docile as the sehlat, if sehlats can be called docile. The venomous le matya, for instance."

Dalarian's smile stayed plastered to her face, but it looked as if that wasn't quite the answer she had expected. "Oh, how interesting, Commander. Though, there are some differences from your sehlats too, to be sure." She gestured to one of the quiet animals at the side of the path.

At second glance, these big ol' dogs looked more akin to retrievers than sehlats. McCoy observed as the dog gathered up root vegetables and put them in a little basket. He could only assume that the dog would take the basket back somewhere for the colonists to sift through. It was astounding how well these animals had been trained.

Dalarian continued. "These large canines roam the Trievan plains, traveling in packs and hunting smaller game. When we first arrived, they didn't take too kindly to us. But, these things tend to work themselves out! You might find it interesting to know that through our mental training programs, we were able to teach them a wide variety of tasks."

"Mental training. Minister?" Spock spoke up.

"Indeed, Commander. I'm sure you came across in the reports that the Matrian people are touch telepaths?"

"Affirmative, Minister. I merely wished to ascertain your methods, beyond the obvious."

Dalarian kept that smile up. "Quite simple to explain, Commander. I'm somewhat familiar with the Earth tradition of keeping native canines as pets. We have a similar outlook; only with slightly more complex 'tricks' to tech them. Using our telepathy, we have condensed what would take months or even years in a Terran obedience school, as you call them, into mere moments. We've trained a majority of the population to gather food, care for the children, guard our borders, and so much more."

"They do all that?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"Oh yes, Captain." Dalarian indicated another working canine. This one had some sort of bags attached to its harness. McCoy's best guess fell somewhere along the lines of 'delivery service'.

"For instance, this animal is carrying rocks from the collection site outside the colony proper. We have a few small setups to make concrete on the east side of the complex. Nothing major, since the majority of our buildings use prefabricated material from Matrio." She smiled more broadly at the Captain. "And, of course, we keep all of the animals well fed and well groomed. They're all very happy."

Dalarian led them toward the main council building, prattling on about the colony's progress and development over the last year. McCoy tuned out the tour highlights and looked at the scenery. It was very beautiful on Trievas II.

Somewhere along the pathway, the complex changed structure. There were fewer gardens and more buildings. McCoy deduced these must be the houses or living areas or whatever the colonists had devised for shelter. The buildings looked a little too strict up against the rolling hills and gorgeous landscape, but who was he to judge architecture? He was a doctor, not a designer. Besides, the Matrian colony had been doing very well.

A small sound distracted him; though he wasn't paying all that much attention to the minister's oration anyhow, and McCoy found himself pausing by a narrow alleyway. None of the buildings were so tall and dense that they obstructed all light from the ground, but a few casting shadows prevented him from seeing the animal at first. This dog was smaller than the one he'd seen picking vegetables, but it was still impressive. Dark eyes peered out at him from the big face. This doggy had very dark fur, almost black, with a distinct purplish tint to it. What stood out to McCoy was the pattern of tiny white spots under the dog's nose. Looked almost like the remnants of a milk moustache.

"Well hey there." McCoy smiled. The dog was just staring at him, expecting him to… what? This one wasn't wearing a harness. McCoy couldn't tell what training it had received, if any. Maybe this one's only a puppy, he thought. The dog stood as tall as his collarbone, but McCoy had seen taller. Slowly, he stuck his hand out toward the dog's face. Let him get comfortable with me, and then maybe he'll let me scratch him behind the ears. If this one's really a puppy, he might like that.

The dog sniffed McCoy's hand, and then head-butted his palm. McCoy's eyebrows rose. That was unusual. His hand was sitting smack in the middle of the dog's forehead. And the canine in question hadn't moved another inch.

"Cutting straight to the chase, are we?" The doctor smiled and started rubbing behind the big baby's ears. Such a silly thing. I bet he deserves a little affection. Probably works real hard, like the rest of them.

The big dog kept moving around, playing or something like it. McCoy kept having to track down that sweet spot behind the ears. He chuckled when the dog finally gave up and let him scratch away. When the big tail started wagging, McCoy knew he was golden.

"There. That feels pretty good, don't it?" He smiled and the dog panted happily at him. "Such a good doggy. Workin' hard all day. Bet you don't have much time to play, do you?" The dog panted some more before hopping forward to lick McCoy's face. The doctor laughed. Big guy doesn't have to reach far.

From a little ways off, he heard Jim calling for him. The "Doctor McCoy!" echoed off the buildings. Both McCoy and the big dog turned toward the sound. "Well," He scratched the puppy's head one more time. "Looks like that's my cue. It was nice to meet you, puppy dog."

The dog didn't follow him out of the alley, and McCoy decided it must have work to do. He caught up with the big group quickly.

"Sorry Jim. Got distracted." He smiled at his Captain and the rest of the group good-naturedly. "There was this big puppy dog lookin' like he wanted a friend and I couldn't help myself."

Jim smiled and shook his head. "Next time, stick with the group, Doctor. Minister Dalarian was just telling us about the expansion plan for the next five years. I'm sure you'll be excited to hear about their hospital…"

The party continued down the path. McCoy did check over his shoulder for the puppy dog, but it looked like the coast was clear.

"The Enterprise is stopping over on Starbase 45 for supplies and a few parts so our Chief Engineer can make a tune up or two." Kirk smiled. "He's been itching to get at one of the bigger power couplings for some time now."

Captain Kirk had stayed after dinner for a drink with Minister Dalarian and one of the Councilmen- Ureit, or something- and he was enjoying himself. Matrian Wine was a delight he'd never experienced. He was sorry Bones and Spock had declined, the doctor in favor of a good night's sleep "for the first time this month, Jim, not like you'd know" and Spock had accepted another Councilman's surprise offer to tour the power plant. An appeal to Spock's technical expertise had been made, and Kirk dared to say his Vulcan First Officer had been flattered into accepting.

With Bones tucked away in bed and Spock gallivanting around the colony's power station, Kirk felt all right having a drink with the two officials.

"What wonderful news, Captain." Dalarian smiled broadly at him. He wondered about that smile. Was there nothing she was unhappy about? Then again, in a place like this, there wasn't much to be upset with.

"The really wonderful news is your invitation to stay for a few days. Not only does it give Commander Scott plenty of time to make his adjustments, but it also gives us some time to see your lovely colony, Minister."

"Dalarian, please, Captain!"

Jim grinned. "Dalarian, then, but you'll have to call me Jim."

Just then, a messenger of some sort tapped on the door gently before opening it. It turned out to be a plainly dressed woman with a concerned expression. "Minister…" She began. "I'm terribly sorry to bother you. It's an urgent matter."

Dalarian's eyes flicked to Kirk before returning to the messenger. "Is it about that small matter Cadrit was so worried about?" There was a casual tone in her voice, one that made the Captain feel more at ease, but also piqued his interest. What could be so small and urgent at the same time?

The messenger's face betrayed some surprise. She too looked at the Captain before responding. "Yes, Minister. Cadrit himself sent me. He says it… must be decided on."

Dalarian took another sip of her wine, looking as relaxed as she sounded. She glanced at Kirk, and filled in some information for his benefit. "Cadrit is our Security Coordinator. He's paranoid, poor man, but he does a very good job. We were discussing a pack of untamed canines Cadrit detected a few miles outside the colony while you and your officers were getting settled."

"They're not a problem, are they?"

She shook her head. "No, no, not in the slightest. He just wished to have a security detail together just in case." Dalarian turned back to the messenger. "Cadrit outlined a very agreeable plan of action to me earlier on. He should continue with his work. I trust his judgment."

The messenger nodded quickly. "Yes Minister. I will inform him of your orders." Suddenly, the messenger turned. She had just enough time to look surprised before the door opened all the way. A larger Matrian man walked in, and Kirk was surprised to see he was armed. The whip curled on his belt looked sinister enough. Kirk spotted barbs and a cat-of-nine-tails arrangement on one end, as well as a strange looking panel resting in the whip's handle.

The whole interruption was quite unexpected. And in the Minister's quarters, no less. Even Ureit, who had been virtually silent the whole evening, gasped.

"Cadrit!" Dalarian snapped. Kirk sat up as the infamous Security Coordinator stood at attention. He at least had the decency to look shame-faced about his interruption.

"I'm sorry, Minister. I wanted your orders. I know we discussed it briefly, but-" His eyes flicked to the Captain, and Cadrit's expression changed. It seemed as if he hadn't realized Kirk would be there either.

"It's not worth discussing anymore, Cadrit. You have a suitable plan. Carry it out. I don't want to hear anything more about it."

To his credit, Cadrit held back the remark that was ready on his lips. He glanced back at Kirk before responding. "Yes, Minister. It will be taken care of."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Cadrit bowed before he and the messenger exited. The door clicked shut behind them. Dalarian caught Kirk's questioning glance and practically beamed. Now, he was very concerned about those pearly whites.

"There's nothing to be worried over, Captain. You can see he's very touchy." She sighed. "It's good for a security man to be alert, but sometimes I believe he overthinks things. Some matters are settled simply after all. If you do happen to hear anything tonight, Captain, I wouldn't worry. Cadrit and his men can handle anything those animals can throw at us."

Doctor McCoy had settled in for the night inside a very comfortable guest room and on a very comfortable bed. He had the whole little space to himself- one of five spares; his guide had mentioned- complete with a bathroom and a shower. McCoy'd taken advantage of the utilities straight away, going just short of pampering himself with his hot shower and highly interesting soap.

Once he'd toweled off and changed into a spare black shirt and pants, McCoy had examined the bed- very satisfying- and settled right in. The sheets were soft and the comforter was cozy. He couldn't ask for more. This was practically shore leave, for all the 'work' he was supposed to be doing, and he wasn't going to waste another minute being awake.

McCoy sighed with contentment. This month had been one disaster after another, and he was more than ready for a break. He let his head drop onto the pillow before pulling the covers up around his shoulders. This was paradise.

It wasn't long before McCoy dropped off to sleep. He rolled over a couple of times before settling, and it wasn't another half hour before his breathing slowed and he drifted into a deeper slumber.

He didn't hear the soft beep when the room's lock was overridden, or the three sets of quiet footsteps entering the room. McCoy was dead asleep when the gloved hand counted back from three, and when the intruders pounced. Oh, he was awake again in an instant, struggling against three assailants. One had a hand clamped down on his mouth, but they seemed to have a harder time restraining his limbs. In the dark room, he recognized the glint of a hypospray- that silhouette he'd recognize anywhere- and quickly punched it out of the intruder's hand. There was a brief bout of swearing before McCoy heard a gruff order.

"Change of plans." The voice growled. "We're moving out now."

Immediately, the other two began grappling, fighting for a grip on his arms or shoulders. McCoy dished out a good few blows before a hand caught his wrist. Between the three of them, they'd gotten his arms pinned. The next step was more of a surprise. They hauled him out of his bed and made for the door.

Not if I have anything to say about it! He kicked out at his assailants. One kick landed wonderfully, and the attacker on his right stumbled. Unfortunately, the hand that had held the hypospray was now free. McCoy felt something come down hard on the back of his head and he saw stars. His assailants took the opportunity to pick up the pace. It wasn't another minute before they were outside and he was being thrown into the back of a vehicle. He'd say a van, but the startup was too quiet and he knew the feel of anti-grav travel anywhere.

They hadn't tried to restrain him further. McCoy was grateful for that at least. After a minute of collecting himself, he pushed of the floor of the vehicle and sat up. It was too dark for him to discern anything other than the fact that he was alone back here. There appeared to be one or two boxes, but they were small and insignificant looking.

The van- blast it all if he was calling it a 'multi-terrain cargo transport vehicle'- lurched a bit, and he realized just how fast they were going. Off-road, too, it felt like. Older anti-grav vehicles weren't quite sure how to handle uneven terrain. You could tell, he mused, you could always tell.

McCoy tried getting to his feet. The van wasn't tilting so much that he couldn't get his balance. If he could head for the back door-

Suddenly, the whole vehicle swerved and he took a tumble to the floor. Above the rumbling of the engine, he could hear some muffled voices in the cab. Must've spotted me, then. I'll have to be more careful. He got back to his hands and knees and began crawling for the back doors instead. Once he brushed his hand against the door, the van lurched again and threw him into the sidewall.

Now they're just being paranoid! He rolled over and rubbed the back of his head. Speaking of- He ran his fingers over the tender spot and found no blood. That was good news. There was enough to worry about already.

A short time later, McCoy stumbled across a rung on the floor, which he clung to for dear life. The blasted driver kept swerving all over the place in an attempt to knock the doctor around. Well, two can play at that game. Every time the van jerked, McCoy kicked the floor with his heels well and good to make it sound like he'd fallen over. Now that he had some sort of control, he started planning his escape.

They drove for a good fifteen minutes, which by his best guess would put them well out of town at this speed, before the van finally slowed to a stop.

McCoy had been preparing. At one point, he'd stopped kicking the floor so dramatically, and instead had opted for shifting his weight to the appropriate section of the van. He'd rolled with the punches, as it were, to give them the notion that he'd finally passed out or had been knocked out by that idiot's driving.

He knew that once they all got out, he'd only have a moment to implement the second part of his plan. They'd feel the van move if he acted too soon. So, McCoy waited. Once the last of them was out of the cabin, he lunged for the boxes, hoping whatever was inside would be heavy enough. The first one he grabbed would do. In a flash, McCoy was standing in front of the doors with the box raised.

He didn't have long to wait.

The second the door was open and he had a shadow in his sights, McCoy let the box fly. It hit the silhouette square in the chest. Now was his time. McCoy leapt out the open door and bolted. He was grateful that this was a grassy plain, because he had no shoes. Maybe did have one advantage, since the three of them had been seeing with the benefit of headlights all this time. Their night vision would be shot.

McCoy scanned his surroundings. They were out in the middle of a field. There were some tall hills rising up on one side, and what looked like a forest adjacent to that. The moon was bright enough to illuminate a couple of shapes, but not as bright as McCoy had hoped.

He could hear them shouting behind him. On a whim, he turned and ran full out for the tree line. He could take his chances hiding in there. It was better than running in the open field.

They'd stopped yelling and McCoy realized that their footsteps were growing closer. As much distance as he'd gained, he'd lost again without the benefit of shoes or a good idea of where he was headed. At least he was nearing the woods. He could lose them in there. Once he'd cleared the first couple rows of trees, he turned sharply and pressed his back flat against the side of a wide trunk. McCoy pressed a hand over his mouth to quiet his ragged breathing. Any sound might betray him.

He'd barely taken a second to consider why on earth this was happening anyhow. Now might be a good a time as any. If this whole thing was a trap, why'd they wait for nightfall? The ship's been gone a good few hours. And if this is a trap from the get-go, why didn't they grab Jim and Spock? Why'd they just take me out into the middle of nowhere?

It didn't look like they were planning on killing him. No one had whipped out a phaser or any sort of projectile weapon. They were tracking him down, intent on recapturing him. But, why? The question presented itself again. There looked to be no logical answer, and that was frustrating.

A twig snapped right behind him. McCoy tensed; ready to make a break for it if the footsteps got too close. He froze as a shadow moved in front of him on his left. Almost surrounded. He had to move. Now.

McCoy turned to his right and bolted. Of course, the sudden movement attracted their attention, but he didn't care. If one of them wasn't guarding the van, he could hop in and get the heck outta Dodge. It would mean he still had a fighting chance.

But, it seemed like he was doomed from the start. No sooner had he cleared the trees again when he heard it- the unmistakable sound of a spark, a crackle, like the electric arcs of an old-style taser gun. He didn't know what good that could do them until it hit. McCoy'd been running full-tilt toward the van when something hot and sharp had grabbed a hold of his arm. He could feel some burning strands wrapping down toward his wrist before the little spikes started digging in. Whatever it was had its claws in him, and now it was trying to pull him back.

And then came the shock. His body jerked and he collapsed to the ground even before the tugging stopped and the device went slack. It wasn't too long- though it felt like ages- before the figures materialized out of the dark with a flashlight on hand. McCoy was vaguely aware of voices above him.

"Get him up. We didn't come out here for exercise. We need answers."

Two sets of hands hauled him upright and forced him back onto his knees. If he'd thought it was bad before… McCoy felt every barb as each one pulled out of his skin. He could see it now, the flaying-end of a whip, as it was being curled back into its owner's hand. Didn't explain the electric shock, but he was beyond comprehending much of anything.

The whip disappeared entirely and a pair of boots stepped into the circle of light. Weakly, McCoy lifted his head. He couldn't see much of his assailants, only the tips of the big guy's hair backlit by the moonlight.

"What do you know about the Trievar?"

McCoy squinted. It was hardly a specific question. Not that he could answer it. He could barely see straight.

"He's not talking." The voice came from his left, one of the other two. "I don't think he can. I told you it wasn't a good idea to use that-"

"I know." The first voice growled again. "We couldn't let him get away... Where would that get us? Alright… Keep him steady."

McCoy winced as the one on his left adjusted their grip. That was his bad arm, blast it all, couldn't they see? Apparently, his noises of discomfort alerted them to the fact. The hands moved up toward his shoulder, far beyond the injured area.

"Let's get on with this." The one on his right said. "Try something else. We need to get back before they start to suspect…"

"Fine." The first grunted. "Hold this." The flashlight was passed to McCoy's left. The light moved back on his face and he squinted again. What could they possibly be looking for? It wasn't like he'd been here for more than a few hours. He didn't know anything.

"I don't…" McCoy stopped, out of breath. Between the run and the shock, he was spent. He tried again, anyway. This may very well be his last chance. "I don't… know…"

The figure in front of him stopped. McCoy still couldn't see beyond the narrow beam of light, but he hoped the hesitation was sympathetic.

"We… have to be sure. I can't take your word for it. I'm sorry." The figure moved again and a hand appeared in his range of vision. It came to rest, palm settled in the middle of his forehead. Touch telepaths, McCoy remembered, before the fire started.

The hot poker, though not aggressive, was still a hot poker. It drove straight through to the moment when they'd beamed down to Trievas II and combed forward. Sweeping across everything, every waking moment, the fire engulfed each one of his memories before continuing the search. It seared through his conversations with Jim, Spock, the colonists, even his visit with the big puppy. It took everything and left behind an ache like no other. An ache he'd never wanted to experience again.

The hand retreated and they let him fall, limp and oblivious to the outside world. Over his head, there was a debate as to whether they should take him back since he really knew nothing, but it was decided that they'd be better safe than sorry. Besides, the group of canines was moving this way. It was the best option.

McCoy was hardly aware of the van as it started up and sped away. He cradled his bad arm against his chest and curled up as tightly as he could. Last time, Scotty had been there to hold him upright while Jim spoke to that other Spock. Last time, Uhura- always so good with words- had talked him through it afterwards. And he'd been a fool to think it would never happen again.

Didn't it always? Telepaths never cared, not like they should anyhow. Not Sylvia, or the agents of Landru, just for starters. Even the Vulcans had let him down. Talking didn't produce results quick enough. Human decency was an inconvenience to their greed, their impatience in getting what they wanted immediately.

Long after the sound of the van had faded into the night, McCoy lay on his side, oblivious to it all. He stayed, trembling, in the same position as the wind rolled in over the hills and clouds passed over the moon. Stomach empty yet still rebellious, McCoy's shaking was periodically interrupted with a sickening heave. He was alone and utterly trapped. There was nowhere to run to, even if he could pick himself up off the ground.

He hardly even noticed when the grass began rustling. The wind whipped the foliage, sure, but the consistent swooshing grew closer and closer still. A low growl reached his ears. McCoy had given up in body, perhaps, but not in spirit. He couldn't move an inch to save his life, but a shred of self-preservation pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Sucking in a shaky breath, he tried to lie still. Maybe whatever it was wouldn't notice him, or lose interest if it had already.

He could hear a snuffling sound mixed in with the low rumble as the noise grew closer. It was investigating, whatever it was. Finally, he could feel the moist breath on the back of his neck, the heat of another body threateningly close to him. Through the haze, he remembered the wild dogs. The trio had planned their contingency well. It had worked out exactly as they thought. He could only hope it went quickly.

Before he was chewed to pieces like some oversized dog toy, McCoy heard another set of sounds from a second big dog. There was a soft whine at first, which grew into a sharp yip. The breath on his neck moved away, he supposed, in response to this newcomer. He could feel another body move in front of him. There were two now, snuffling around him and investigating. At least they weren't tugging him in two directions, fighting over the catch of the day.

Another whine. He felt the warmth move closer and he realized just how cold it was out here, and just how chilled he'd become lying in the same position for who knows how long. And suddenly, he was having his face slobbered on. The second dog seemed happy enough to see him. It started licking his face, poking around with its big wet nose. McCoy was so relieved that it wasn't interested in eating him that he didn't realize where that snout was heading until it prodded him right in the arm.

Now he was grateful that no one else was here. The yelp was hardly dignified. Quickly, the dog backed off. It didn't go far enough to where McCoy couldn't feel the warmth radiating off of it, but it seemed to know he was hurt. Like the smell of blood doesn't let it know? Well, these creatures might not have iron or carbon in abundant supply in their own chemistry…

It did him some good to know he was thinking more clearly. Maybe it's the dog. Who knows? More things work than I thought… He tried moving around, but his body didn't want to cooperate. Whatever'd provided the voltage on that crazy contraption had done a number on his system. McCoy groaned, weary from the chill and the pain and the throbbing inside his skull. He didn't need this. He'd been on vacation two hours ago… Had it been longer? McCoy didn't have the foggiest.

The nice puppy was back, nosing his side, trying to get a reaction out of him. McCoy grunted and rolled away. He couldn't go far, but he could get a message across. It would be a long time before he was able to move, let alone rub bellies or scratch behind the ears.

Now, the first dog was pestering him too. It had its nose right up in McCoy's face, snuffling and poking at him all around his head and shoulders. He tried picking up his good arm to shove the dog away. It was a weak effort, and all he could think about was the ache as his arm flopped over and along the side of the dog's face.

The two of them backed off. McCoy could hear them making noises at each other and doing whatever it was where they'd pulled away to do. He drew his arm back in and tried to lie still so he could ease that pounding in his head.

It wasn't long enough before they came back. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to play, or give either of them the attention they wanted. There was no way. McCoy lay still, not responding to either presence as they moved closer.

One of the noses poked him right in the back of the neck. McCoy was about to roll away again when suddenly there were teeth in his t-shirt and he was being lifted up off the ground. The crafty thing had got a grip on the fabric and now had itself a captive. He couldn't bite back the groan as the dog hefted him into the air. Then, they were moving. His feet dragged along the ground, each impact sending a jolt up his spine. These dogs weren't being particularly gentle.

And then his legs hit something solid. McCoy grunted as he was laid over the back of the second dog. They're organized, he managed to think through the pain. Lord above, it's the service dogs! They're out here for whatever reason, and they've been trained for rescues of some sort. All of the sudden, he felt a lot more confident about what was going on. These big dogs were helping him out.

McCoy relaxed. He lay there and let whatever was going to happen just happen already. The sooner he got back to a hospital or Jim and Spock, the better. He slumped over the other side of the dog's back. That was it. He was on his way. Jim and Spock would help. This would all be over tonight.

The dog started trotting off and McCoy let his head droop. He was out before they'd gone fifty yards.

A/N: Continue to chapter 2, if this isn't already way too crazy for you.