A/N: Sulu time! I love John Cho! Enjoy!
He knew Sulu could bring them down safely.
It had been all well and good until the natives had started firing on them. The land-to-air weaponry had sorry accuracy, but this time quantity prevailed over quality. The left engine was smoking and the craft was coming down, this much was certain. In the back, Scotty was up to his elbows in circuitry with the two technicians assigned to the mission at his side. They were all shouting and flinging tools from one end of the shuttle to the other.
Leslie the copilot had hit his head on the side wall before seatbelts had been deployed and was slumped over in his seat, unconscious. Leonard McCoy could see the Lieutenant's head lolling back and forth with each bout of turbulence. Every inch of the shuttle was shaking. Another jolt jerked the craft to the side.
McCoy had his arms crossed over his chest, knuckles white from his death-grip on the safety straps. He was trying to breathe deeply, but every buck of the shuttle left him gasping again. He trusted Sulu. He'd learned quickly to hug the wall when anyone other than the swashbuckling helmsman was at the wheel. Sulu was the best, there was no doubt in McCoy's mind. Whether or not that would prevent the local population from blowing them to bits was something else entirely.
He wished he could just stick his head between his knees and force himself to calm down, but the seatbelts kept him so rigidly upright, he couldn't even lean forward to ease his churning stomach.
Aviophobia… It had to be aviophobia… Scotty's excited shouting broke his train of thought.
"Anywhere you can set us down lad?" He called from the back. "There's not much we can do with th' engines at this point!"
Sulu turned in his chair, and McCoy got a good look at him for the first time since this disastrous flight started. The helmsman looked calm, crazy calm. He had a neutral expression on his face, as if he was having a conversation with the engineer over lunch at the mess hall.
"I'll find a spot! We're approaching a lowland plain about two miles wide. Should fly over in about five minutes. Do you think you can keep us airborne that long, Scotty?"
Five minutes. Five minutes, and they'd be safe.
"I'll do my best, lad! Alright, you heard the man! Five minutes until we can land, so let's keep this tin can up for six! Move it!"
McCoy shut his eyes and sucked in another breath. Five minutes. Could be five hours as far as he was concerned. The spin-cycle in his stomach wasn't even kinda slowing down.
"You alright, Doc?"
He cracked an eyelid. Sulu was half-looking over his shoulder, half-trying to navigate through the exploding air.
"'M fine, Sulu, but how-about you keep your eyes on the road?" He knew they were in the air, he knew, but he would do just about anything to distract himself from the fact.
To his surprise, the pilot laughed. "I've flown through worse. Do you need anything?"
The genuine concern in Sulu's voice surprised him for a minute, but then the shuttle bounced again. Sulu's fingers flew over the console, flicking switches and making adjustments. McCoy swallowed hard, willing his stomach to keep it together.
"I'll be fine. Don't let me distract you. Just… just get us down safe, alright?"
"Will do, Doc. Hang on for a few more minutes."
With that, he went back to flying. Every ounce of training was evident here, in a crisis. McCoy tried to distract himself from the flight by studying Sulu's actions. The helmsman was periodically checking four- no, five- readouts on the dashboard screen, all the while adjusting altitude, engine power, and even glancing over at the unconscious Leslie. McCoy had to give the man credit where credit was due. Sulu had singlehandedly kept every single member of the Enterprise's maiden-voyage crew from ending their careers in the veritable minefield just outside of Vulcan's orbit. He'd pulled their feet out of the fire time after time on missions, whether it was on land or in the hazards of space. He trusted Sulu's instincts. If the pilot deemed it necessary to barrel-roll the whole danged shuttle, well, he just hoped his stomach would come along for the ride…
The shuttle lurched again and Doctor McCoy heard a groan from the copilot's chair.
"Leslie? Lieutenant, look at me. Hey, are you alright? No, stay with me, Leslie!"
The confused copilot nearly slumped back into his seat, but the jarring motion of the craft actually aided in keeping him awake. McCoy was hoping the danger would get the lieutenant's adrenaline going. He knew his own heart was hammering.
"Doc, what? Oh geez! What's our status? Hikaru, what happened?"
Leslie seemed to come to his senses all at once. McCoy hoped this was a good sign. Maybe Leslie'd just gotten a tap, nothing too serious.
"We've taken a lot of hits." Sulu filled his copilot in while dodging the last of the land's barrage, "The left engine's basically out. Scott's trying to keep us airborne but…"
"Dropping like a lead balloon?"
McCoy couldn't hold the strangled noise inside his throat. Through the slit between his eyelids, he thought he saw Sulu give Leslie the evil-eye.
"Our goose isn't cooked yet. We're about two minutes out from a big stretch of flat land. It should be an easy landing, if not a smooth one."
"Alright, boss." Leslie sat up and shook his head clear, shooting an apologetic glance back at McCoy. "Tell me what I can do."
They went over the landing plan at a rapid-fire pace. McCoy was honestly glad he didn't understand the half of it, because from the looks of things, they were about to make more of a crash than a landing. Sulu called Scotty and his men back to their seats. Soon, the repair equipment was stowed and the passengers secured. McCoy opted for one last look out the side window before squeezing his eyes shut and mumbling a frantic prayer.
"Everybody strapped in?"
"Aye, Mister Sulu! Get us down from here!"
"Alright. Leslie, monitor the heat on that left engine. Let me know if it gets to 800."
"Yes sir. I'll let you know if-"
There was a deafening crack and the shuttle lurched to the right. McCoy felt the straps dig into his shoulders with the strength of the hit. The whine of the engines had grown into a howl, then a screech. McCoy felt his stomach twist.
They plunged.
Never, ever, again would he forget the power of gravity. They weren't just falling, he knew from basic physics. They were accelerating at the ground at an absurd speed. He wanted to dig his fingernails into the safety straps, but the hard polymer shielding gave him no satisfaction. Sulu was shouting something at Leslie. Sulu. He knew the helmsman had the situation well in hand. He's flown in worse. He's landed worse. He's flown in- The shuttle bucked again and McCoy strained against the straps, finding himself unable to curl into a ball. His legs twisted around each other, giving the knot in his stomach a run for its money.
"Hang on everybody!"
The first bounce was the worst. After that, they managed to slide the rest of the way. From what McCoy could figure, the terrain fought the pilot every inch. But, McCoy knew Sulu was the master at the controls. This hunk of metal would yield to his iron will. And, sure enough, they were slowing. He did it. He did it! Sulu did it!. The shuttle didn't tip. It didn't roll. It was a bumpy, jarring ride across the miserable field, but they made it. Hopefully, all in one piece.
With one last pitch, the shuttle came to a standstill.
McCoy gulped air. It's over. Deep breaths. Get up. Check the others. His fingers fumbled for the release lever. Once he had detached the straps, Doctor McCoy opened his eyes. They were lying at an angle, half of the shuttle tilted in the air. He scanned the seats, counting Scotty and his two men as a-OK. They all gave him nods and even a half-hearted thumbs up from one before deactivating their own safety restraints. Doctor McCoy moved toward the front of the shuttle, quickly sliding around behind the copilot's chair.
Leslie was awake. Lord, thank you for small miracles. McCoy dropped to the side of the chair and released the safety straps. The Lieutenant was largely cooperative, he noticed, but that didn't count for much. McCoy managed to get Leslie out of the chair and into the main compartment.
"Scotty…"
"Aye, aye, Ah'm comin'." The engineer scooted over to McCoy's position.
"He's got a concussion and some nasty lacerations." The doctor diagnosed, running his tricorder over the copilot with one hand and prepping a hypo with the other. He uncapped the instrument with his teeth and jabbed his patient in the upper arm. "I've given him a general painkiller, but you're gonna need to take the dermal regenerator over his face and arms a couple of times. Now I know y'all have the highest first-response numbers outside of Medical itself, so I trust you'll get this right. If not, I'll have your hides, boys." He shot a glare at Scotty's men, making sure they knew their CMO was deadly serious.
"Aye, McCoy, we've got 'im." Scotty reassured. "If ye don't mind my asking, what'll ye be doin' in the meantime?"
"Checking on Sulu." McCoy leapt to his feet. The fact that he hadn't heard any movement in the cockpit set off alarm bells, but he'd been preoccupied with the injuries he knew already existed.
"Sulu?" The helmsman was hunched over in his seat, propped up entirely by the safety straps. Doctor McCoy took a look at the pilot's console. There was blood on the dash, as well as on Sulu's shirt and what he could see of the man's forehead. The doctor released the straps and slid Sulu out of the seat and to the floor.
Breathing? Check. Pulse? Steady enough… It oughta be stronger… "Hey Hikaru? Come on, stay with me…" Sulu's eye twitched. McCoy called for the tricorder and it sailed right over. A few passing curses later, McCoy was getting readouts. Likely concussion, no, really? Bruising, lacerations- again, obvious- but no internal injuries.
The helmsman groaned. McCoy flipped open his hip-pouch and took out a hypospray. "Don't worry, Sulu, just a little painkiller. I'll even go easy on you, so long as you don't tell Jim. I'd never hear the end of his whining." He was rewarded with a small chuckle. It turned quickly into another groan, but McCoy knew the helmsman could hear him. That's good, he reflected as he applied the hypo, At least he's somewhat conscious.
His patient's eyes fluttered open. "How's it goin', Doc?"
McCoy grimaced. "I've been better, and you certainly have. How'd you end up smackin' your face right into the console?"
"Couldn't exactly take my hands off the wheel, now could I?" The helmsman gulped.
The doctor scowled. "You could'a prevented this. Now, why in the world would go and do a fool thing like that?"
Sulu winced and tried to shift on the shuttle floor. Doctor McCoy snatched the life preserver from under the pilot's chair and pushed the wad of foam under the helmsman's head.
"If I'd let go any sooner, we'd have crashed head-on into a big rock."
McCoy clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking. He took a breath.
"Well. Thank you for getting us down safely."
"That's my job, Doc-"
"Don't give me any of that!" McCoy snarled. Sulu blinked. The doctor rubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry. No, I'm not. Risking a serious head injury isn't your job. And I know about 'the line of duty' and all that nonsense." He sighed. "Thank you, Sulu. If it wasn't for you… Honestly, I don't know how I'd still be sane, hurtling through space in a giant tin can."
"Heh. You're welcome, Doc. It wasn't me much at all though…We just got lucky, I guess."
"No luck involved, Mister." McCoy cracked a half-smile. "I never had a doubt in my mind."
A/N: Feel free to hit me up with ideas.
