This was an assignment for school - a short-short piece of fiction that demonstrated tension. I turned it into a Star Trek WWIII AU of sorts.
It turned out to be a short character study of Bones. Enjoy.
He didn't belong there.
As soon as the first shots were fired over the hills, he knew it was a mistake. The screeching of the missiles rang through the mountain side like the terrified shrieks of children. He had watched with widened eyes as fire rained down from the plateau above. It showered the troops, landing on filthy, panicked bodies like the hands of the devil himself.
He was a doctor. It was his job to save these men, but as he looked around, the sound of cracked, desperate shouts of help echoing in his ears, he found he couldn't will his body to move. It was at that moment that he knew he didn't belong there. He was a doctor, not a soldier.
Suddenly, the broken, bitter remains of a man limped around the corner and collapsed a few feet away. The doctor's grip tightened on his medical pack, but he couldn't make his body move toward the man. Flames were dying out on the soldier's uniform and a small puddle of blood was forming around his head. What had he done to deserve this?
"McCoy!" The doctor heard his name cried out from an all too familiar voice. "Get over there and save that man, Lieutenant!" His commanding officer's voice resonated in his head, but his arms shook and his legs remained still. Overhead another missile flew over the battle grounds, screaming in a fit of rage before striking a nearby cliff.
"I-I can't, Sir!" he managed to choke out in response, refusing to look at the Admiral. His voice wavered with horror, its usual country drawl exaggerated from exhaustion. His eyes never left the young soldier's smoldering body as his commanding officer ran past him to attempt to save the boy from his unquestionable fate.