PART THIRTEEN [CLOSED]
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As a new guideline: for the time being, I'd like to put a damper on the re-requesting going on. Please only re-request something if it has been more than a month since you asked for it and it still hasn't been filled. I'd like to remind everyone that old parts still have many ( Read more... )
It was McCoy’s fifth visit to the bridge, but he couldn’t stay away. He was driving his staff up the wall restlessly pacing up and down sickbay as they waited for the reaction to the news that there would be no negotiating for the hostages’ release.
“Any word, yet?” McCoy asked as he burst out of the turbolift.
Spock was at his station and swung his chair around. “We are continuing to scan for the captain and ambassador’s life-readings, but have yet to locate them. Your constant interruptions are distracting the bridge crew from their work. Might I suggest you return to sickbay and I will contact you when we have any new information.” His voice was quiet and calm and McCoy wanted to shake him, hit him, somehow get a reaction from him.
He managed to refrain himself and spinning around, left for his office. He’d barely gotten there when Spock called him back. McCoy ran down the corridor and wished the lift would go faster, almost exploding onto the bridge the moment the doors opened.
“We have been informed that one of the hostages will die in one tenth of a planetary cycle - two point six hours - unless the negotiations are permanently called off.”
McCoy felt an adrenaline rush at the news. Jim may have only a few hours to live, he realized with a sense of foreboding. “What’s the government doing to track Jim and the ambassador down?”
“At present, unknown, Doctor. In addition to the message, there have been explosions in two conurbations in the last twenty minutes although the ministers involved in the negotiation process are denying anything has taken place. We are uncertain if the events are linked.”
“Probably are. Standard terrorist tactics.”
“Indeed,” Spock concurred. “If you will excuse me, Doctor. I must continue scanning.”
McCoy sighed. He was like a fifth wheel on the bridge, but hated to be away from the action. He forced himself to leave to allow the crew to do their job.
Two and a half hours later, he returned as the deadline neared. The terrorists were refusing to give up their hostages. The government was refusing to negotiate, backed officially by StarFleet. It wasn’t looking good.
Please don’t let it be Jim. Please don’t let it be Jim.
McCoy was unaware of the mantra going round and round in his head. As the time neared, the atmosphere on the bridge seemed to thicken as tension mounted. McCoy couldn’t stand it.
“For god’s sake Spock, isn’t there any more we can do?” he almost shouted. Jim was too young to die. He’d been abandoned by everyone except his loyal crew.
“Doctor. You bring emotion to an already emotionally charged situation. If you cannot desist from these outbursts I will have no further option but to remove you from the bridge.”
McCoy stared wide-eyed at Spock, not having heard that tone since the day he ejected Jim to Delta Vega.
“You’re not serious.” He wanted to believe the Vulcan was bluffing.
“I can assure you I am.” His face and voice were placidly calm.
“Jim’s life is depending on us.” He glanced at the bridge chronometer and realized the deadline had passed. “He may be dead for all we know. We need to do something - think outside the box. What would Jim do in this situation?”
“Commander Spock,” Chekov spoke up. “I have an idea.”
It was another half an hour before the Enterprise was informed that Ambassador Hoxan was dead and that Jim would be next. No deadline had been set.
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