PART THIRTEEN [CLOSED]
PREVIOUS PARTS ON THIS TAG
NEXT PART
Discussion post
ATTN: regarding reposts
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... )
Wherever Kirk was being held, was protected from transporters. The rescue, Spock explained, would have to be done on the ground with a taskforce from the Enterprise. He had no intention of informing the government of the discovery.
“I’m not staying here!” McCoy protested when Spock named the taskforce. “What if Jim’s injured and needs immediate medical attention?”
“You are not sufficiently trained in combat to deal with the likely battle. You are better served remaining here.”
“The fuck I am. I’m coming with you.” His fear made him more belligerent than usual.
“Very well.”
McCoy led the way into the turbolift and regained consciousness in sickbay. “The fucking bastard nerve pinched me! How long was I out?” As he started to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashed over him.
Chapel glanced at the chrono. “About twenty minutes. And no, we’ve not heard anything.”
“If they don’t do it first, I’ll kill that fucking hobgoblin myself when I see him.”
Chapel held out a hypospray. Moments later, his dizziness faded enough for him to swing his legs over the edge of the biobed. “I’m going up to the bridge.”
“Shouldn’t you wait in the transporter room?” she asked mildly.
“No, but you can. Take a crash team with you and a couple of antigrav gurneys just in case.”
“Anything?” he asked as soon as the doors opened.
Uhura swung round in her chair, a sympathetic look on her face. Goddamnit, he wondered, did everyone know Spock had put him out?
“No, Sir. They’re maintaining radio silence.”
“Shit.” He felt totally strung out.
“Doctor, the High Minister is hailing us.”
For the first time, McCoy noticed Chekov had the conn. Fuck. “Budge over, kid, and watch some serious acting.”
Chekov returned to his seat. Sulu’s was taken by someone McCoy vaguely knew normally covered the graveyard shift.
McCoy sat in the seat and realized it was his first time in the captain’s chair. With the situation critical, he couldn’t have enjoyed the moment even if he’d wanted to. “Patch him through, Lieutenant.”
“High Minster,” the doctor nodded sternly. “I’m Commander McCoy.” He couldn’t smile on order like Jim.
“Where is Commander Spock?” the man asked suspiciously. It was McCoy’s first sight of this species. He was very tall and thin, with a long gaunt face and wispy orange hair.
“He’s left the bridge to do some research. Can I help you?”
“The ambassador’s body has been delivered to us. You may retrieve him.”
“Can you have your people provide our communications officer with the coordinates.”
They were very efficient. “Coordinates received, Commander,” Uhura said softly behind him.
McCoy swiveled in the chair. “Send them down to Scotty. There’s a medical team standing by in the transporter room.”
McCoy turned back to the screen. “Thank you, High Minister. Was there anything else?” He thought it would at least be polite if they expressed regret for their greed leading to this clusterfuck. Or was that too much to ask?
“That is all,” the High Minister said and his image faded from the screen, to be replaced by the green globe of their planet.
“Scotty,” Uhura said behind him through the comms channel direct to the transporter room. “Spock’s requesting emergency beam-out, STAT.” McCoy sprinted to the lift and made it to the transporter room in under thirty seconds. He arrived to find bedlam.
Two security personnel and the captain injured critically, Spock and several others had more superficial wounds.
Spock was in a meld with Kirk, keeping him alive, McCoy guessed. He’d been stabbed, the blade passing through his aorta and into a lung, collapsing it. Severe internal bleeding, a transfusion was needed.
Reply
Leave a comment