Raw Elements

by ThatSassyCaptain

After an avalanche leaves Doctor McCoy and two crewmen stranded, Captain Kirk, Spock, and Scotty have to work to rescue them. But, as the weather takes a turn for the worst and a colossal blizzard rolls in over the mountains, the chances of finding their shipmates diminishes. Can the search party make a rescue before Dr. McCoy and the crewmen fall to the elements, or worse? Done.

A/N: [Ok, I fixed all the errors it had. There were many, even after I though I'd fixed it properly the first time. I apologize for that last "error free" update. I've used real SpellCheck on this draft, as well as a critical eye for gaping plot holes. Anywho, here's Ice, all spell-checked and edited.]

Welcome to my first ever attempt at fan fiction! I hope you enjoy reading!

Also- I don't own Star Trek. There it is.

Raw Elements: Ice

"Captain Kirk calling Enterprise. Scotty, do you read me?" Kirk stared nervously at the communicator while waiting for a reply. Spock stood at his side, arms crossed, yet looking stoic and unconcerned. The Captain suppressed a smile. He knew his First Officer's Vulcan physiology preferred warmer climates, and the hostile, icy environment of Cicila IV would surely cause him some discomfort. The planet was snowy and mountainous. No animal life could be sustained here without technological adaptation. Their mission on this all but lifeless ice-rock concerned a party of geologists studying the mineral clusters in this mountain range. Their studies had been completed, and now the uncomfortable Enterprise team had to help them pack up and leave. But, despite the deplorable conditions, discomfort was something Spock refused to show. The rest of the away team stood shivering, whining, and huddling under the onslaught of the icy wind. If only the rest of them had the restraint of Mr. Spock. He looked back toward his First, who firmly held out against reaction, who would never react if he could help it. On second thought, he supposed, maybe a little insight into a man's condition isn't such a bad-

"Scott here. Captain, I can barely hear you o'er the wind. What's the situation down there?" Scotty's voice crackled. The transmission was fuzzy at best.

"We've gathered the last of the scientists from the base, and are almost ready to begin beaming them up. How's the weather looking from up there, Mr. Scott? It's pretty rough down here. Any chance of it lightening up?"

Kirk heard the crackling sigh from the other end. "I'm afraid not, Captain. From the looks of things up here, you're in for a doozy of a storm in... In uh..." There was a pause as Scotty had the scanners checked for weather updates. "Captain, the storm front will be due to hit your position in less than an hour!"

The alarm in Scotty's voice was evident, even over the unclear communicator signal. Kirk looked to his First Officer, and Spock looked back with a neutral expression.

"Recommendations, Spock?"

"Captain, I suggest we begin beaming the geologists aboard the Enterprise as soon as is possible. We should then proceed to evacuate the away team. Mr. Scott's atmospheric readings coincide with my observations from before our arrival and the readings I took minutes ago. By my calculations, the weather system Mr. Scott indicated should arrive at these coordinates within 47 minutes."

The Captain took that in, processed it for a moment, and formulated a response. "Alright, Spock. That sounds…appropriate. Mr. Scott," he spoke again into his communicator, "Mr. Scott, prepare to beam aboard the geologic team first, then we'll start sending the away team up when they're finished."

"Aye, Captain. Transporters are standing by."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott. Kirk out." He flipped his communicator closed, and headed over to the temporary shelter a few meters away. With Spock a few steps behind him, Kirk approached a member of his security squad, one Lieutenant Perkins. "Lieutenant, begin supervising the transport of the geological team to the Enterprise."

"Yes sir, right away, sir." Perkins left at once to attend to his duty. With a cleared line of sight, Kirk could now see, instead of just hear, the entirely disgruntled Dr. McCoy. He was rubbing his arms furiously and glaring at the well-equipped members of the geological study. McCoy had been beamed down in order to supervise the transfer of medical equipment and aid any ailing geologist who gave the moving process any trouble. He now stood uncomfortably in the corner of the shelter with his tricorder and medical kit. Kirk noted his collectedness as a sign he was ready to leave.

"How are things over here, Bones?" Kirk entered the shelter with Spock close behind. Neither acknowledged the glare McCoy shot at them, as frigid as the landscape.

"Oh, everything's peachy, Jim, like a Georgia summer." He snorted derisively. "I'll be surprised if we don't return to the Enterprise without thirteen cases of hypothermia, miscellaneous flus, colds, and fevers, and frostbite. Not to mention pneumonia, associated lung-"

"Alright, Bones," Kirk replied, "I get it. I know it's cold out here, but look on the bright side."

"Oh?" McCoy growled, "And what would that be?"

"Scotty has the transporter warmed up and we're all set to beam back onto the Enterprise."

The Doctor almost gave a whoop of delight at the news. He clutched his medical kit and tricorder tighter to his person. "I'll be waiting with the geological crew. Maybe one of them'll lend me a coat..." He was out and away in moments, leaving the Captain and Spock alone in the temporary shelter. Kirk turned to his First Officer.

"Well, Mr. Spock, is the science team all packed and ready?"

"Affirmative, Captain. My people are organized around the beam-up point."

"Excellent, Spock. Let's go and make sure the geological team has everything squared away as well as your people do."

"That is doubtful, Captain. The science team's attention to tidiness is one of the strictest and most efficient displays I have seen, besides that of the Science Academy on Vulcan, of course."

Kirk chuckled and walked out into the clearing. "I have no doubt, Mr. Spock.

/*\\

Doctor McCoy was keeping himself warm by pacing back and forth. Though, "warm" was a bit of a hopeful word. It was freezing. He watched enviously as the geologists in their warm overcoats beamed aboard the cozy, temperature-regulating Enterprise. As CMO, it would be his responsibility to stay behind with the last of the away team unless an emergency required his presence onboard. No such luck, of course. He groused internally, If it wasn't for this blasted wind, I might not have such a problem keeping warm.

The security crew was keeping everyone organized and the transport ran smoothly. Thank goodness for that, McCoy thought, At least it'll go by quickly. Nearly all of the geologists had beamed aboard with their equipment, research, and supplies. Soon, the Captain would signal the ship and they could begin beaming the Enterprise crew aboard.

"Not too long now." He said to himself as the last of the researchers faded in the glare of a transporter beam. McCoy gathered up his kit and tricorder for the last time. Any minute now, and I'll be back safe 'n sound on board with- His train of thought was interrupted by shouts of "Doctor McCoy! Doctor McCoy!" He turned, fighting the instinct to roll his eyes. A red-shirted officer, Lieutenant Crowley he believed, was racing towards him. "Doctor McCoy," he repeated, almost breathless, as he came to a stop, "We've got a problem. Michaels cut his leg open on a shard of rock, and we didn't want to take any chances with it, being cold as it is out here, and we were-″ McCoy cut him off, grabbing the Lieutenant by the arm and dragging him quickly in the direction from which he came. "Which way to Michaels? We need to hurry, Lieutenant." Crowley led the way. Around a corner, up the incline in the direction of the geological base, and off to the side of the trail, they found Michaels, sitting in a small pool of blood.

"Good morning, Doctor. How bad is it?"

"Oh, good, you're still conscious. Crowley, gimme a hand here. Grab that hypospray out of the medical kit, that's it. Hold still Michaels, I can't properly hypo you with all this wrigglin' about!"

"Heh. That might be the idea, sir- Ow…"

"There. That'll act as an anti-biotic until we can get you thoroughly checked out. Here, Crowley, get me a bandage. Good. You hold still, Michaels, or I swear, I'll stab you again."

Michaels sat frozen as it were, with a strange expression on his face. His attention was focused not on the Doctor, but on something behind him. McCoy noticed the reaction, and turned. A wave of snow and rock was hurtling towards them from the mountainside.

"Move!" McCoy shouted, helping Crowley to support Michaels as they tried to get out of the way. The avalanche was moving at a surprising speed, and only a few steps into the retreat, the thundering snow overcame them. Michaels' arm was pulled from the Doctor's grasp as the two were flung apart in the whirling mass of snow and stone. He fell. The force of the falling mass hurtled McCoy head over heels. Completely disoriented, he was carried helplessly along the path of the avalanche. At some point, he encountered a cluster of rocks and was mercifully rendered unconscious.

/*\\

Spock heard the rumbling first, and looked up toward the mountaintop.

"Captain, there appears to be a disturbance on the eastward peak."

Kirk looked, to see that, thankfully, the deadly slide was directed away from the clearing, but only just by a small margin.

"Where's it headed, Spock?"

"By my estimation, Captain, I would say it is headed for the abandoned geological base."

"Good. Well, I mean, it's not headed here. And the base is abandoned. Minimum damage to the expedition, seeing as how it's already over…" Kirk rambled a bit in an effort to explain his apparent pleasure at the destruction of the base. He trailed off, in an effort to 'quit while he was ahead'.

"Understood, Captain." Spock complied with the sentiment without engaging in an analysis. It must be the cold. Kirk supposed, He's hardly his usual chatty self. The avalanche passed to the side, far enough out of the way to send only snowflakes hurtling their direction.

"Alright, then, Spock. Let's get the boys together and beam back up for some hot chocolate. Or, perhaps you'd prefer tea…?" Without waiting for an answer, the Captain moved swiftly towards the beam-up point. "Perkins, is everybody present and accounted for?"

Perkins looked over and stood at attention when he saw his captain approaching. "Yes sir. Well, yes-sir-almost-sir. We still don't have Lieutenant Crowley, Crewman Michaels, and Doctor McCoy."

Three unaccounted for? That was unusual. "Well, do we have any idea where they are, lieutenant? Anyone else seen Crowley, Michaels, or Doctor McCoy?"

Many crewmembers shook their heads or replied with a simple "No, sir". One crewman looked around then nervously raised his hand.

"Speak up, Crewman, there's no need for that here."

He put his hand down. "Yes sir, sorry sir. I thought I saw Lt. Crowley and Dr. McCoy head off down the trail, sir. They seemed to be in a hurry, sir."

Spock approached Kirk from the side. "Captain, Doctor McCoy's tricorder and medical kit are missing as well. Perhaps there was an accident of some sort, possibly involving Crewman Michaels."

"Sound logic, Spock, but I hope it's nothing that serious. All right. Let's call Scotty, tell him we'll be a bit late, and try and get back before-″

Kirk stopped speaking abruptly. Spock saw his gaze tear away to the mountain, then back down at the trail. The avalanche. Kirk burst into a full sprint. Spock was on his heels, calling after him.

"Captain! Jim, stop! We do not know if the trail is clear!"

Jim kept running, sliding on the ice as he went. He rounded a corner and came to an abrupt stop, slipping at the sudden change. Spock came along moments later. "Captain! Are you injured?" He bent over to help Kirk to his feet.

"I'm fine Spock, fine. It's McCoy and my crew I'm worried about. Look."

He pointed at the trail, or, where the trail used to be. A wall of snow taller than either of them barred the path. Rocks were scattered throughout the snowy mix, pieces of the mountain come loose under the weight of the snow. Spock took a few steps forward to examine a patch of ice. "Captain..." His voice, barely more than a murmur, startled Kirk into action. Quickly but carefully, he maneuvered his way to Spock's side. There, on the ground before his First Officer, was a red patch of soaked snow.

"Spock, is that…?"

"Blood? Certainly, Captain. I cannot accurately measure the quantity, but the spreading, even accounting for dispersion of snow, suggests a serious injury. If we do not find the crewmen and Doctor McCoy soon, whoever sustained this injury may not survive."

/*\\

It wasn't the cold that brought McCoy back to himself. No, it had been cold before. Cold, he was getting used to. The rock digging into his back was a different matter. It was positioned just so, that he couldn't shift his weight any which way to tolerate it. He tried opening his eyes. They cooperated, to reveal nothing helpful. It was pitch dark. He was buried. Trying to fight his rising panic, McCoy remembered an old trick he'd heard from a friend of his in the Academy. An avid skier, this feller talked quite a bit on the dangers of avalanches. He'd gone on about his own friend who'd been caught up in one and, in his state of disorientation, dug himself out sideways when he thought all along he'd been digging straight up. McCoy thought now'd be a good time to put his buddy's one useful piece of advice to the test. He spit. The saliva went where it did, and then came back to land on his cheek. Ok. So head is down, feet are up. Great. McCoy worked on dislodging his legs first. Maybe he wasn't buried very deep, and could find the surface of the snow prison quicker this way. Sure enough, his feet moved freely after a few moments of kicking. He shifted his arms next, and managed to jostle enough snow to allow for movement. However much air had been trapped down here, it wouldn't last too long. He didn't even know how long he'd been out. The air supply could nearly be gone by this point. McCoy made an effort to breathe evenly, despite the terror working its way to his lungs. His knees separated from the snow bank. He changed tactics. Scooping snow away from his torso, he dug himself out upside down. Soon, he could see a bit of light glowing through the layer of snow on his face. Almost there. Just a bit more- Hello, sunshine! McCoy took a deep breath of the chilly air and caught a glimpse of the furiously darkening sky.

"Well. Maybe sunshine is bit too much to ask for." He sat up and winced. Not only was he sore all over from the tumble, but a sharp, nagging pain in his side demanded his acknowledgement. He stretched his arms, and then tried to rub the stitch from his side. Black dots flurried in his vision, like a negative snowstorm. The pain was nowhere near to what he had expected, but not so bad that he was really worried. He pulled his had away quickly to find that it was wet with blood. Blood. Now what why is that…?

McCoy leapt to his feet without a second thought and almost lost his balance on the shifting snow bank.

"Michaels! Michaels, Crowley! Call out if you can hear me! Hello? Anyone! Hey!"

The snow bank trembled underfoot, and he remembered that this was an avalanche zone. Yelling wasn't a good idea. Wherever Michaels and Crowley were, he would need to find them quickly and quietly. It was coming back to him. He hadn't managed to get the bandage wrapped before the avalanche hit. Somewhere out there, Michaels was bleeding out. Maybe he was alone. Crowley could've separated from him in the tumble.

McCoy looked around again. He didn't recognize anything. Taking a hard long look at the mountain, he realized he was much farther down than even the trails went. The slope below him looked completely undamaged. A new layer of snow covered the ground, of course, but none of the rocks seemed to have drifted down past him. Lucky me, he thought.

Turning towards the slope again, McCoy decided that he'd either get moving or wait for hypothermia to set in. And boy, did he hate the cold. He tested the ground in front of him, lest he fall into a hollow snow pocket. It seemed firm. Another step. So far, so good. A couple of larger rocks jutted out of the main bank. Am I glad I didn't get caught under one of those. They seem to be on stable ground. I'd better keep close. He followed the path of destruction upwards. There were no trees on Cicila IV, only some assorted mosses, and those were found only in caves. He knew this because a lovely geologist had been kind enough to chat with him earlier. Edible they were not, but this moss so fascinated the lady that McCoy couldn't help but listen as she prattled on about the species and sub-species that existed just in this area. So, all I have to look forward to is snow and rocks. Perfect. I might not even need to ask for shore leave next time we come across a gorgeous planet, lush with life, luxury, and entertainment. When Jim asks, I'll just bring up this little adventure. He tried not to add the "If I make it back" in order to maintain the pretense of a positive attitude. McCoy trudged glumly up the incline as fat little snowflakes began to fall.

/*\\

"Captain, I suggest we have Mr. Scott scan the planet's surface for life forms. Once located, he can fix their coordinates and beam them up accordingly."

Kirk sighed. "Good idea, Mr. Spock. Let's see if I can reach him. Enterprise, this is the Captain. Enterprise, Scotty do you read?"

Static. But, after a tense moment, "Scott…. Captain. Where…Geology crew...we...Uhura's trying...storm front moving…communication...Mr. Kyle... Transporters not…Sorry, Captain but we cannae-″

Nothing. He flipped the communicator closed. He looked at Spock. "Well. It looks like we're stuck here. And without communication as well. At least we'll have some time to take shelter. Good thing we warned everyone about the storm approaching…. What is it, Spock?"

Spock had lost focus for a moment and was back, but the change had caught Kirk's attention. "I was just thinking, Captain. Was Doctor McCoy present when the warning was issued? Were the other crewmen present, or had the three of them already departed?"

Kirk's heart sank. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen McCoy there when he alerted the crew and sped up the moving process.

"So, Bones and the others don't know about the storm. They'll still be out there wandering around in the open. They'll be exposed when the storm hits! We have to do something, Spock!"

Spock paused a moment, before responding. "I suggest we order the remaining members of the away team to take shelter in one of the nearby caves, while we lead a search party."

It was exactly as he'd have ordered. Kirk looked at his First officer with mock seriousness. "Wouldn't that be… 'Unnecessary risk of officers and crew', Spock?"

Spock retained a neutral expression, showing no outward sign that he caught the Captain's joke, but also no sign that he hadn't. "If it is deemed a necessary risk, then I believe we would be justified to take it."

Kirk smiled. "Of course Spock. Two of my men and my Chief Medical Officer are missing and in grave danger. A risk we have to take, Spock. I don't want to endanger any more of my men. We'll have them stay put while we go out and look for McCoy and the others."

Spock made a slight incline of his head, a nod. "Understood, Captain. Let us make the arrangements quickly."

Snow began to fall as they hurried back to the clearing.

/*\\

As he moved, he warmed up. As he warmed up, he regained some feeling in his limbs. As he regained feeling, the pain in his side intensified. McCoy decided he'd have to do something about this before it got any worse. An idea occurred to him, but not one he was particularly fond of. And as bad as he felt about losing his sleeve, he felt worse about losing blood. He tore the blue fabric from his shirt, then that piece almost in half to make one long strip. He lifted his shirt and wound the makeshift bandage around his waist. For the first time, he was really thankful for the black undershirt that was issued with his Starfleet uniform. It would keep his right shoulder warm, though it left the rest of his arm exposed, and aid with keeping his core temperature up. That was the most important thing, he reminded himself. When dealing with hypothermia, one should always worry more about the core than the extremities. Though uncomfortable, cold hands and feet won't kill you. A cold enough chest, however, and it might be too late.

The snow was coming down a bit harder now. The blasted wind's picked up, too. It was turning into a real winter gale out here. The sky was dark grey, and the clouds nearly blotted out all light from this system's distant sun. Because of the further-than-Earth proximity to this sun, Cicila's storms were always snowstorms, and the planet could never sustain animal life without adaptation. It's not the snow, but the 'not life-sustaining' bit I'm worried about, he reflected.

It was a cold, bitter trek up the mountainside. McCoy somehow managed to keep himself from looking backwards. He figured it'd only be depressing, seeing the short distance he traveled compared to the heights he had yet to climb. And still no sign of Crowley or Michaels. He hoped that they managed to stay together, because there'd be no way Michaels could survive this without some help. How'd he even get his leg cut open the darn fool… If I'd known he was that dumb, I'd've taken a pack of hypos to him a long time ago. No, I'm just angry about all this. He shook his head to clear his vision. It was getting harder to tell which spots were real and which were imaginary. This wasn't Michaels' fault. Just a freak accident. He reminded himself again.

He kept moving, one foot at a time. There were good-sized boulders littering the white landscape that could provide some cover. It won't be enough, he decided. What I need is one of those caves that the pretty geologist was talking about. Maybe her silly moss isn't quite so dull as it sounded. He scanned his surroundings. He was mid-way up the avalanche's path, and still nowhere near where he should be. Possibly even on the wrong side of the mountain. After a few minutes of increasingly nervous scanning, his eyes picked out a shadow several hundred meters uphill. Now there's something to shoot for.

McCoy fixed his eyes on his destination and determined he'd reach it, even if he had to drag himself up the snow-covered cliff to get there.

/*\\

Higher up the mountain, the wind pounded relentlessly against the rock face. It pulled snow off of its downward course to freeze unfortunate travellers trapped out in the blizzard. Kirk and Spock were braving these elements now, equipped with hand-phasers, a small spare medical kit, and Spock's tricorder. They had picked these up from the clearing when they'd stopped back to issue orders. The remaining crewmen, bless them, Kirk had thought, all volunteered to join the expedition. When they had been shut down, they offered the shirts off their backs to help keep the beloved Captain and First Officer warm during their search. Feeling very guilty about this, yet at the same time seriously concerned for their safety, Kirk had accepted shirts, but only the black undershirts so the crewmen could still stay warm themselves. Kirk had two shirts underneath his command gold, while he had insisted Spock wear four. His First insisted on equal distribution, after having failed at persuading the Captain to take the greater share, then was convinced by Kirk's unshakeable logic.

"Spock, I need you to be fully functioning on this mission. Your Vulcan intellect may be the thing that ends up saving Doctor McCoy. Or you considerable Vulcan strength. Who knows? They could all be trapped in a cave or under a landslide! As far as this mission goes, you are the more valuable officer, the one most necessary for the mission's completion. I need that Vulcan physiology in best-possible condition. Doctor McCoy needs you to wear the four shirts, Spock."

Maybe logic didn't strictly win the day, but Kirk would never admit to having utilized all three strategies of rhetoric to win an argument with Spock. It's either that, or order him to take the blasted extra shirt, he decided. But Spock had come around in the end. He didn't have to keep putting so much effort into maintaining his stoic mask of contentment, Kirk noticed. Spock seemed to be doing relatively well for the circumstances. Kirk hoped the extra warmth would help his keen senses pick up a trail or signs of life. Kirk knew if they didn't discover something soon, they might not ever. The snow was falling at an increased rate, so tracks or signs of life might be covered at any time. Kirk looked out over the white landscape, searching to the horizon for any indication of survivors. Just as he had given up on that line of sight, Spock called out to him.

"Captain! I have found something."

Kirk raced, sliding and stumbling, to Spock's position. His First was kneeling by a clump of boulders. As he got closer, Kirk noticed a dark patch in the snow. He slowed.

"Spock, we've got to stop finding clues like this!" He said as he knelt over the puddle of blood.

"Illogical, as these 'clues' will help us locate our missing crewmen. It is fairly fresh, Captain. I would say just recently frozen. Whoever was here was able to leave. They might still be alive somewhere."

Jim picked up on the subtle undertone in Spock's voice. If Spock was human, it could've been called hopeful. He searched the scene for any clues.

"Look here, Spock. The snow's been disturbed. Someone dug themself out of the bank, then headed… They um… Spock, what do you make of this?"

Spock examined the patch Jim indicated. "It would appear that, from the pattern of disturbance, that the survivor or survivors headed uphill. I cannot tell a number by the tracks, seeing as how there are none to discern by. The snowfall has covered them beyond the point of comprehensible analysis."

Jim nodded. "Alright, Spock. Let's get walking. Those crewmen, at least one of them anyway, are hurt and in need of medical attention. We must find them as quickly as possible."

"Agreed, Captain. Time is of the essence. The danger of hypothermia also increases with each passing minute. For us, and the surviving crewmen."

/*\\

The conditions worsened as Dr. McCoy got further up the mountain. The wind picked up as he went, threatening to knock him down with each gust. He'd resorted to tucking his exposed arm into his shirt, and was experiencing mixed results. It was harder to balance against the wind with only one arm, but at the same time, he was pretty consistently warm, if "warm" was used loosely. He was reminded of the unfortunate accident with the transporters at Alpha 177. It was only the beginning of their 5-year mission, and they had not yet arrived at the appropriate Starbase to pick up necessary parts for their shuttlecraft. Sulu and a landing party were left stranded until the problem could be addressed. McCoy had heard from Sulu and the others about their experience firsthand, as he ran his medical exams on the lot. Unfortunately, I don't have a temporary shelter, blankets, or supplies. Just my skin 'n bones and the clothes on my back. No tricorder, no medical equipment… At least the wound's starting to dull a bit I'd be worried if… His thoughts started to trail off as he reached a group of large rocks. His instinct to collapse there was too strong, and he dropped into the meager shelter of the outcropping before his mind had caught up with him.

"No! Get up, dang it, or you'll never make it!" He made an effort to push himself upright. His legs weren't responding quickly, and he couldn't quite feel his feet. McCoy lost his balance and fell back into the snow. He struggled to pull his other arm out of the shirt, and proceeded in widening the hole he'd already made. A blast of bone-chilling air shot through the new opening and he shivered violently. Things were going downhill fast. There's no way I'm making it up there. He hated himself for thinking it, yet here he was, lying in the snow, one arm exposed, bleeding out very slowly. McCoy pushed himself up so he was leaning against a rock. At least this offered some small shelter from the wind. He closed his eyes, so he could take a rest. Struggling to keep them open in this wind was too much. He'd just sit out the storm behind this rock. It would blow itself out soon. Things like this never lasted too long. It was warmer behind this rock. Pleasant. Well, tolerable at least. The cold and deadened senses drowned the alarm bells ringing in the back of his physician's mind. In his weakened state, he ignored all the textbook signs of freezing to death.

/*\\

McCoy felt something brush up against his shoulder. Another new snowdrift I bet. He jerked to one side in order to clear it. Another brush, harder, more like a shake, a shove. The force of it sent McCoy slipping sideways. His eyes popped open and a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. McCoy blinked in the darkness. He couldn't make out the face of the stranger, but could tell from his shadow that whoever this was, they were at least humanoid. And a pretty strong humanoid, too, he thought as the stranger dragged him upright with one hand. McCoy was encouraged into a standing position. He swayed, still finding his feet after spending who knows how long curled up by a rock. The stranger threw an arm around McCoy's shoulders and guided him up the mountain. He stumbled, tripped, slid, and almost fell backwards, but his kind rescuer held him steady all the way. His legs ached, but he knew that they could make it to the cave if he kept going. He didn't know who belonged to the shape at his side, but he didn't want to fail them, now that they'd come so close. They were survivors together, it seemed, and both trapped in the snow, trying to get out.

The cave was only a few meters ahead now. McCoy fought the urge to race off into the shelter, and stuck with his guide. On second thought, I might not have even been able to make the run by myself. I can't tell how much this feller is actually supporting me, or what I'm doing by myself. The mouth of the cave stretched taller than an up-ended shuttlecraft, but shortened out considerably a little ways in. He noticed a dim glow further on down the tunnel. It got brighter as they went. As they reached a narrow archway, McCoy saw the true cave, not just the dark entryway. It was lit by a naturally glowing mineral in the cave walls. Patches of the multi-colored cave moss grew all around.

They stopped at the archway. The stranger's arm fell away, leaving just a hand on McCoy's shoulder. There was still a firm presence there, but it was a test. Can I stand on my own? McCoy took a cautious step, then another. The third sent him sprawling, face first into a clump of moss. Eyes wide, McCoy watched the impact, and consequential spray of dust from the dried-out plant near his face. Before he could even blink, he was wrenched away from the moss with incredible swiftness. He met the ground again on his back, and shut his eyes on impact. An intense, fiery pain burned his eyes and he blinked rapidly. Nothing would clear it. Tears sprang forth in an effort to douse the fire, but it was no use. Before McCoy could reach up to rub his eyes, a warm hand pressed down on his forehead.

"Keep your eyes closed," an unfamiliar voice rang out, echoing off the cave walls. "The dead moss releases dust-like seed pods that will irritate your eyes, and can be deadly if inhaled. That is why I pulled you out of the way. I am sorry if you were injured during the process?"

The last inflection rose, like a question and McCoy noticed. He's asking if I'm OK. "No, no, I'm alright. What do I do about the eyes, though? Not going to be blind, am I? Sure hurts like it, let me tell you…"

The hand moved away. McCoy kept still, not wanting to cause any more trouble for his patient rescuer. The hand came back to rest on his shoulder. "Sit up. I will have to bandage your eyes, to encourage minimum movement. That will help. Your system is capable of flushing the dust out with the aid of your tear ducts and sinuses. So long as you keep the area covered and somewhat compressed, there should be no complications." As he said this, McCoy felt the bandage being wound around his head. It was tight, but not uncomfortably so, and from his best guess, it would help do exactly what the stranger said it would. The knot was tied in the back to one side. He would be able to lie down without having to worry about the lump resting under the back of his head. That might be more uncomfortable than the rock. Ooh. My back is still sore… The stranger continued talking as McCoy rubbed a fist into the small of his own back.

"I suggest we put some snow over the bandage- just a small amount, nothing as much as would be painful- simply enough to soothe the burning sensation. The cold will keep the seed dust from attempting growth within your system. Here, you may also need this for the sinus drain." He took McCoy's hand and placed a cloth into it. A handkerchief. How handy. He held it up to his nose, for the "sinus drain" had already begun. "Thanks. So, uh, how about that snow? I mean, if it isn't too much trouble…"

"No trouble at all." He chuckled. "I think there's more than enough on both of our backs." McCoy returned the laughter and searched with his free hand for a bit of the cold stuff. His left arm brushed against his side painfully, and he remembered the cut. "Ah, excuse me. Is there any chance of this bandage coming off soon? I have an injury on my side and I need to check it's status. I'm a doctor, y'see, and..."

"Say no more, Doctor," the stranger responded at once, "I will have a look at it. Believe it or not, I am a healer myself. If you would please lie down. Here, rest your head on this moss, no, it is safe. The new moss does not develop the seed dust. Only the mature and dead mosses repopulate."

McCoy rested his head on the new moss. It was spongy, but soft. He set the handkerchief unceremoniously on his face and rolled up his shirt. He winced, lifting the undershirt. The cut was stinging in the warmer environment of the cave. He figured the shirt must've frozen with the blood, being soaked as it was. Which was not good. The stranger must've had an excellent bedside manner or excellent self-control, because he gave no audible reaction to the injury. He felt around the cut, checked nearby ribs, and began slowly unwinding the makeshift bandage.

"I will see what I can do. It doesn't look life threatening, Doctor. Maybe upon further examination, it will turn out to be just a superficial cut."

The optimism in his voice was genuine, but McCoy couldn't help but think about the alternative. Or, it could turn out to be fatal.

/*\\

It was nearly pitch dark out. Spock had long ago resorted to firing his phaser upon large boulders to illuminate their way. The light didn't last very long, but the heat required to make the glow was very refreshing. Kirk and Spock had been taking an upward course for the past hour, searching for signs of the survivors. The occasional blood splotch or footprint had disappeared a while ago, under the heavy snowfall. The two of them were trudging doggedly upward, scanning in all directions for anything. Kirk was bringing up the rear, not yet envious of Spock's extra two shirts, but getting there fast in this miserable blizzard. Not that he would take them. I'd rather die out here than condemn Spock to a slow death by my survival. The sudden shock might kill him, and if not, then the cold would get him quicker than it'd get me. Kirk rubbed his arms again and looked eagerly for a new phaser target. He had selected a nice, large boulder, when he heard Spock's shout.

"Captain! I have found them!" Kirk raced toward the sound of his voice. Around an outcropping, he found Spock kneeling over a shadowed mass.

"Bones…?"

"L-l-lieutenant C-Crowley here, sir. M-Michaels is here too, though h-he's in n-no condition for t-talking."

"The Lieutenant is correct in his assessment, Captain. Michaels is alive, but unconscious. He is not in very good shape, and I fear his chances of survival are low out here. Captain, we must discontinue the search for the moment and-"

Kirk cut him off. "Discontinue…! What about Bones? He's still out there. Lieutenant Crowley, have you seen any sign of Doctor McCoy?"

"No, sir. He got s-s-separated from us at the b-beginning."

"Spock, he's still out there. He could be injured, dying! We need to go and look!"

Spock stood up and came face to face with him. "Captain… Jim. I know what I am asking that we do. I do not wish to abandon the search at this time either. But, the lives of two crewmen depend on our action. We must locate shelter quickly."

Jim stood there for a moment. As much as he didn't want to lose the argument with Spock, he didn't want to give up on Bones. This decision plagued him as he stared off into the swirling storm.

Spock spoke again, more gently. "We can continue the search after assuring the safety of these two men, Jim. We cannot give up while the life of the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer is still at stake. It would be beneficial to recover him, for the sake of our crew."

"Logically, Spock. Of course. Let's get Crowley and Michaels to safety." They returned to the freezing men. Spock took Michaels up in his arms and Kirk helped Crowley to his feet. "Let's head for that cave system on the next slope. We should find some decent cover up there."

As they climbed, Crowley chuckled and held up a dark object. "I grabbed the Doctor's medical kit just as the avalanche hit us. Heh. I held onto it as tight as I kept ahold of Michaels. Do you think that, with the stuff in here, we can get Michaels patched up again?"

Kirk couldn't help but smile at the Lieutenant's optimism and ingenuity. "I bet Mr. Spock can rig up something. After all, it's not like we're working with stone knives and bear skins. There's plenty of good equipment in there. I bet Michaels is up and joining the search in half an hour."

They laughed and the terrible journey seemed less. In no time at all, they had arrived at the cave system. Spock led the way inside. The mouth of the tunnel was low-set, but after a hunched journey and a sharp turn, it opened up into a small chamber. This was dimly lit with a naturally occurring substance in the rock. Spock took a look around, commenting, "I believe this mineral is known as Frasinum. It is a common substance on this planet, found most commonly in extensive tunnels. No doubt, this chamber leads further back into an extensive network of caves, with larger deposits of Frasinum deeper underground. In fact, it was likely discovered by the geological team in their first week of study."

"Thank you, Spock. We're delighted to hear your rock lecture," Kirk commented after helping Crowley into a comfortable position on some pinkish moss, "But I'd like to know about this moss stuff. Can we eat it? Burn it? Is it dangerous?" Crowley shifted uncomfortably on his patch in the silence before Spock answered.

"The moss, Captain, is the only known life-form this planet has been discovered to sustain. It is relatively harmless in its growth stages, but once it reaches maturity, it releases dust-like clouds of seeds that can be deadly if inhaled."

The blood drained from Crowley's face as Spock finished. He sat stock still on his patch of moss. He didn't dare move. He didn't dare breathe.

"Do not be alarmed, Lieutenant. That moss is in its early growth stages. I shall examine the rest of the clusters to determine which are safe and which we should avoid." Spock set Michaels down next to Crowley in the safe moss. Kirk handed over the medical kit.

"Here, Spock. Crowley managed to hang onto this during the avalanche."

"It is Doctor McCoy's medical kit."

The silence weighed heavily on the group as all three stared at the little black pouch. The absence of Doctor McCoy appeared to be as much of a concern to Kirk as it was to Spock. Crowley had his own concern for the Doctor. He remembered the Rigelian fever epidemic McCoy had guided them through, as well as countless other disasters, with terrific skill and care. He remembered a personal experience, when he and some others had contracted measles on a remote Starbase and Doctor McCoy growled angrily at the Captain for not taking proper precautions. He had fussed over Crowley like a mother hen for quite a while before the Lieutenant finally managed to recuperate.

He remembered the Doctor's genuine concern, and his heart went out to the Captain and Mr. Spock. He was just missing a doctor, but they were afraid for the life of their dear friend. Crowley thought it might be best if they turned their attention to other things, lest they become depressed in the moment and lose hope.

"Um… Mr. Spock, sir, is the medical kit still intact? I did my best to keep a hold on it, but there wasn't much else I could do besides hold it… I don't know if all of the pieces are still in there."

The Captain and Spock were awakened from their trance at once. Spock opened the pouch and examined the contents.

"The kit appears to have retained all of its parts. I congratulate you, Lieutenant, on your firm grip. It might just save Crewman Michaels' life."

Spock took out various pieces of equipment and adjusted the settings on his tricorder. He scanned Michaels' leg and took a look at the readings. "There appears to be no sign of infection. The wound is serious, but with attention, I believe there is a good chance for Michaels' survival."

Crowley sighed with relief and fell back on the patch of moss.

/*\\

The wound was cleaned, unfortunately very painfully, and carefully dressed with a new set of bandages. Dr. McCoy assisted as best he could with this part. He held up his shirts with one hand, and secured the first end of the bandage with the other. The last layer was on, and his acting physician tightened the bandage and tied it into place. McCoy winced. Feeling had returned to his extremities. His fingers, the healer reported, were not frostbitten, and after examination, neither were his toes. McCoy sat barefoot on the cave floor while his boots and socks dried out beside him. His eyes no longer stung outright, but when he unconsciously flicked them to the side at a sound, the burning sensation returned. The snow helped a lot, but maintenance was a two-handed job. He had a towel-full of snow in one hand, and a damp handkerchief in the other. Every so often, his new friend would bring him some water. McCoy hadn't realized how thirsty he had been. He'd attempted to chug the whole canister in one go, but the healer sure knew his stuff and prevented this.

"Doctor, you should know better. Too much water will only make you sick. I wouldn't advise trying that again."

It wasn't a threat, only a friendly reminder of what he already knew, with an underlying message of 'Don't be so stupid. You'll accidentally kill yourself.' He heard his friend moving around the cave. The little sounds echoed off the walls of the cavern. He was returning. McCoy shifted the snow-towel on his face. I'm sure this looks absolutely ridiculous. To his surprise, he found the snow soothing on his forehead as well. Am I getting warmer? Fever...? No… It's just hot in here, probably…

He set the towel down and removed his outer shirt. The cavern was rather warm. He tossed the ripped garment aside and thought of Jim. How many times has he stumbled into Sickbay, torn to shreds and looking pitiful? How many times has Spock dragged him in there for his own good? Another thought occurred to him, one more relevant to his current circumstance.

"Say, friend, you didn't happen to see anyone else while you were out in that mess? I have some friends in the area that might be out looking for me. And two other men, dressed like me, but with red uniforms. One of 'em's injured, y'see, and it's my responsibility as his doctor to attend him."

The healer was somewhere within a couple of feet, handling something. "I am sorry to say I did not see your companions on the path. Here. Have another sip of water." McCoy took a drink and swallowed. The water tasted different this time, warmer. It must be getting warmer in here… The container moved away. "You need to rest. I will see you soon." The voice came from a distance. That's not right. He's no more than a meter away. The realization hit him late, in this foggy state. He's drugged me, the- McCoy's mind reeled. He had to stay awake and do something, anything. Quickly, he pressed his hand into his side. The sharp pain brought some clarity to his muddled senses, but it faded quickly. He pressed again. A firm grip tightened around his wrist and pulled back his now bloodied hand. McCoy tried to fight back, but he was pushed back onto the moss. The grip was released, and over the ringing in his ears, he heard receding footsteps. His last thoughts before fading out of consciousness were of Jim and Spock, and how he couldn't warn them about what was headed out there.

/*\\

There was an impact, a tight, gripping at his shoulders. Another set of hands checking his pulse. McCoy was roused into semi-consciousness. A hand fiddled with his eye bandage, and he swatted it away weakly. Doesn't this idiot know anything? He's the one who put the darned thing on me, no reason to- McCoy went perfectly stiff, startling the person holding him. He grabbed at a wrist, and with a sigh of relief, felt the triple-band on his Captain's uniform.

"Jim…" His voice came from far away. He tried to sit up, but couldn't manage to get his muscles working. The ringing in his ears was loud, but not enough to completely block out the muffled voices of his friends. Spock was there, too, he recognized at last. It was his warm Vulcan hand that tried to undo the bandage again.

"Don't touch that!" McCoy did his best to sound authoritative as he grabbed for Spock's hand, but the squeak that accompanied the move was hardly forceful. Spock's hand released the bandage at once, timid, and almost afraid at what it might have done. They were asking him questions, but he couldn't understand. The words were getting garbled up before they could make sense in his head. He rubbed his temple and groaned. I don't know if it's these two hovering idiots babying me or if it's just the drug, but I've got a splitting headache. Their chatter dropped off. Two pairs of hands helped hoist him to his feet. One of them must've noticed he was without shoes. One set of hands dropped off, while the other lifted him off his feet. They were moving.

The jet of cold air came as a shock. We must be just outside the cave. McCoy was aware of a light coming from somewhere, sunshine maybe, but not enough to be any kind of warmth over this icy wind. His whole body shuddered, and whichever one was carrying him- Spock, he decided, It's gotta be - adjusted his hold to maximize shared body heat. Something was thrown over him, Jim must've grabbed my uniform, and they were moving again. The quick, even footsteps turned into a rhythmic pace. Cold and sore as he was, Doctor McCoy was soon rocked to sleep.

/*\\

Onboard the Enterprise, Scotty was working furiously. He and Uhura had each other worried to their wits' end, and nerves were raw on the bridge and in the Transporter room.

"Don't tell me what cannae be done, get to workin' on something that might work!" Scotty shouted across the bridge. Irritated and tense as she was, Uhura managed to keep her response even as she glared daggers at Scotty from her seat. "I'm doing everything I can, sir. The storm's interference pattern is making harder to get a signal through…" She cut Scotty off with another look and clarified, "Harder, but I can boost the signal in accordance with the communicator frequency if I had enough time to work." Scotty caught the message and sank back into the Captain's chair without a word.

The bridge crew said nothing as well, but went back to work scanning the surface. Any life signs they picked up were unclear, as they had been for the last few hours. Yes, there were survivors, but the number and location were still a mystery. If they could get a coordinate lock on one of the communicators, however…

Every so often a pair of eyes would drift back to Uhura's station. It all depended on her, and everyone knew it. She was tapping buttons and flipping switches at a rapid rate. After a few moments, she popped the panel out under from her station and knelt down to handle the wiring.

"Do y' need any protective gloves, or…?" Scotty's question dropped off and hung there on the silent bridge.

"That would be great, Scotty, thank you." Uhura's softer reply eased the bridge tension considerably. They weren't yelling at each other, and that was a relief. Scotty retrieved a pair from his electrical kit- he'd brought it up from engineering in case of a situation like this- and knelt down next to Uhura. "Can I give you a hand?" Uhura looked at him. He could see lines of worry on her forehead, briefly etched there from hours of stress. He looked into her eyes, and saw the softening of tension. They'd all been working frantically without rest in search of their missing Captain and crew. Uhura especially had felt the anxiety of their mission. The ship needed to boost communication signals in order to lock onto the landing party's position.

Uhura smiled for the first time in hours. "Yes, Scotty. I could use some help." They worked together on the wiring, diverting power to the signal boosters and cleaning up when something blew out. Finally, Uhura leaned back against her chair. "That should do it. If it doesn't, nothing will."

Scotty helped Uhura up. She leaned over the console to inspect signal readings. "Alright. Here goes nothing." She picked up her earpiece and positioned it just so. Uhura then flipped a switch and searched for a communicator frequency. Suddenly, she stiffened. Scotty stepped back to let her work. Quickly, but with practiced precision, Uhura adjusted the knobs and switches at her station until she seemed satisfied with the combination. She pressed a blinking button and waited.

"Scotty," Her voice startled him, but he nodded and listened. "Scotty, I think I've got them! Put in a call! Go, Scotty go!"

Faster than the bridge crew had ever seen him move, the Acting Captain leapt over the rail and jabbed the button on the arm of the Captain's chair. "Enterprise calling the landing party. Captain, is anyone there? Do you read me?"

Sickening silence. Everyone on the bridge held their breath and listened. Beeping monitors were silenced by their operators. The tiniest sound from the planet's surface would mean they were still alive. They waited. For a terrible moment, it seemed like there would be no response. But then:

"This is Captain Kirk. We copy, Enterprise. There's an emergency down here, can you be ready to beam us up? "

The initial cheer on the bridge was stifled as the Captain had continued his urgent message. They listened carefully.

"We have one…two… There're nine of us, three injured. Can you lock onto my signal? I've got the three here next to me with Mr. Spock. Here Spock, you hold this. I'll have them beam aboard first, then the rest of us later. Are the transporters online, Scotty? We've got to hurry…"

Sickbay was alerted as soon as the report left the Captain's mouth. Mr. Kyle and the Transporter room were put on standby at once. Scotty replied once the Captain had finished. "Aye, sir, we have transporter capability. We've locked onto your coordinates. Once the first group beams up, have the rest ready in their place. We're ready to beam up on your orders."

"Good, Scotty, brilliant! Get those men beamed up now, Scotty! Yesterday, if possible."

"Aye, Captain. Transporter room, energize!"

/*\\

Doctor McCoy awoke to the familiar beeping and humming of a bio-bed. Multiple bio-beds, by the sound of it. His ears picked out the readings, normal as far as he could tell. He stirred a bit, checking to make sure he was OK. He ran a hand across his forehead, making to brush back the now-dry hair that was stuck flat. He was alarmed when his fingers came into contact with his exposed eyebrow. Squeezing his eyes shut, he called out with all his effort.

"Nurse Chapel!"

It was a hoarse shout, but one that could be heard from the office. Footsteps raced in, Chapel's light tread, and two heavier sets. He held his hand over his eyes, careful to stay perfectly still.

"Doctor, what's wrong?" Chapel was watching the heart monitor, no doubt, as it and his pulse had picked up the pace.

"Where's that bandage, Chapel? There's these spores in my eyes, y'see, I've gotta keep 'em covered. Can I get a tissue? My nose is bound to start runnin' like a faucet…"

"Bones," a hand came to his, Jim's, and gently moved it off of his face. "The spores have already been removed by your tear ducts and sinuses. You're not in any danger." McCoy was surprised. Well, that was quick. Or… How long have I been out? He tried opening his eyes. The lights in Sickbay were too bright, and he squinted, blinked, and tried to sit up. Three sets of hands pushed him back down, gently but firmly. He tried opening his eyes again, with better results. After a moment, his vision cleared, and he saw Jim, Spock, and Christine standing over him, looking concerned.

"Well. Tell it to me straight: How bad is it?"

Jim actually laughed out loud. Christine smiled. Spock's face remained neutral, but McCoy thought he caught a glimpse of… was it relief?

"You're fine, Bones. A model patient. You stayed where you were, took your medicine without a fuss, even tolerated our constant worrying. So unlike your usual self. I don't know how you managed."

McCoy blinked. "So. How long was I out?"

"You were unconscious for two days, seventeen hours, Doctor."

He started, and made another attempt to sit up. Instead of forcing him back down, the three of them attempted a compromise. Nurse Chapel moved the pillow to accommodate a more upright position. Jim and Spock lowered him back down.

"Oh, would you three cut it out! You're fussin' over me like a bunch of mother hens. Somebody tell me what happened."

Jim related the journey from the cave where they'd found him, to the second cave where Michaels and Crowley were holed up. At the first break in the storm, they made a mad dash for the clearing and managed to get there just before the next front hit. Soon, the Enterprise had made contact and beamed them all aboard.

"Bones, you've just been lying there, scaring the daylights out of us for two days. At first, we didn't know about your eyes, but you'd made such an insistence on leaving the bandage on, we were forced to comply. One of the geologists recognized the symptoms, and we were able to treat you within a few hours of boarding. On the ground, Spock was fussing over you like one of your 'mother hens'." Spock did not react as the Captain chuckled. "That cut you got turned a bit nasty just before we beamed up. Spock said it'd been made, opened, and reopened again since you got it. At first, we thought it might've been from the dash to cover, but Spock said it was older than that. So we've been wondering just as much as you. What happened down there, Bones?"

Dr. McCoy sighed. "Well, I was rescued by a rather shady character, turns out. I never got a good look at him. He knew about the moss, and actually kept me from breathing the spores. The feller bandaged up my eyes and my side. It seemed like he was genuinely concerned until he drugged me. I tried to stay conscious by poking at that ol' wound, but he put a stop to that, too. He left shortly afterwards, sometime after dark, I think. It's a good thing you two showed up when you did. Who knows what could've happened."

Silence. Jim and Spock exchanged glances, looking worried. McCoy's eyes narrowed. He frowned.

"What's all this? What happened?"

Jim turned to look back at his friend, a concerned expression on his face. "Bones, Scotty scanned the planet up down and sideways to double check we'd beamed up everyone, and never picked up more than the nine life signs. He ran over the readings again after we beamed up and confirmed that we had everybody, no miscounts."

Spock confirmed this. "The readings were accurate, I checked them myself when I was not attending to other duties."

"Like sitting here, hovering over him, Mamma Hen?" Nurse Chapel giggled.

Spock said nothing in response to that. "Perhaps, Doctor, you imagined this rescuer in your weakened state. I have heard of similar situations before."

Bones glared at him, although he was amused at the Vulcan's brief discomfort at having been called out as a mother hen. "I did not imagine it, Spock. He dragged my up the mountain, pulled me out of a patch of deadly moss, and drugged the living daylights outta me with that blasted canteen of his. I don't believe I could have done all this myself if I had known about the moss. But I didn't. The only thing I'm not quite sure about is why he felt the need to knock me out. I was following right along, trusting him with my life. It doesn't make any sense."

The four of them pondered on this for a minute. At last, Spock spoke. "Do you remember what happened just before he administered the sedative, Doctor?"

"Why, yes. I was worried about Michaels and Crowley. I'd asked him if he'd seen anyone outside."

"Then perhaps, Doctor," Spock replied, "Your rescuer was attempting to find them, but did not want you to try and follow because you would endanger yourself."

McCoy was surprised. He hadn't thought about that. "Perhaps you're right Spock. Well, wherever he went, I'm sure glad he was around for the early bits. I Probably wouldn't've survived the moss without him, let alone the climb up the danged mountain." He paused, thinking. "And thank you, Jim, Spock, for coming and getting me outta there."

Jim smiled. Spock merely nodded. "It was only logical that we-"

"Oh, save it Spock! Let the Doctor get his rest. I'm headed up to the bridge. Mr. Scott needs a break, too."

Jim and Nurse Chapel began walking into the office. "Just call me if you need anything again, Doctor." Chapel smiled as she left with the Captain.

Spock paused in the doorway. McCoy made eye contact and simply nodded once. Spock held his gaze for a second, nodded, and walked out of Sickbay.

McCoy leaned back and relaxed. Perhaps, after all this, he deserved a real nap.