** In the last chapter, I accidentally labeled McCoy as the 'ACMO' of Enterprise. Sorry about that. That's Chapel's title. My bad.

Under Fire 3

Dr. McCoy sat away from the group, under one of the trees which surrounded their small temporary campsite, brooding. He had awakened in such a good mood, especially under the circumstances, and then to be confronted with bugs for breakfast. Damn, Spock, he thought to himself. McCoy never believed that the Vulcan himself had planned to eat those slugs. No, he had brought them back to just torment me, the doctor thought.

Christine Chapel noticed McCoy and made her way over toward him. He had been livid when Spock had offered him the insects for breakfast, really over the top. She had worked with him for many years and she knew McCoy. As testy as he could be sometimes, she'd never seen him so cross about something that was not that big a deal at this point. He'd certainly been in far worse situations, so Christine wondered if there was something else bothering him.

"Hi," she said, "Can I sit?"

McCoy shrugged. "Suit yourself." He was mutilating a small piece of wood and didn't look up at her.

She did. "How about telling me what's going on with you?"

"What being on another mission where we're cut off from the ship-again-isn't enough for you? You know, Chris, I have been in dozens, hell, hundreds, of landing parties, and I guess I've just reached my limit. I mean how many 'nine lives' can one man have?" He looked as morose as she'd ever seen him. "When does my luck run out and I'm the one who's DOA?" McCoy angrily threw the stick from which he'd been peeling the bark back into the woods.

Christine didn't look at him or challenge his assertions. She quietly waited, knowing he couldn't stand the silence for long.

She wasn't disappointed.

"Well, dammit, woman, you're supposed to make me feel better. So—say something, cheer me up!"

She laughed. "Okay….the ratio of bad outcomes to good outcomes on missions as you know is in your favor. You've got the 'luck of the Irish,' as you so often remind me. And Spock's here. If there's a way to solve an unsolvable problem, he'll find it. Will that work?"

McCoy gave her a crooked grin, muttering, "Well, it's a start. I guess I have been feeling a little down. I received a message from Joanna; you know her baby is due any day now, and I was hoping I would be there this time. I missed the first grandbaby's birth, and I was hoping to make it up to her this time." He rubbed his forehead and trailed his hand up threw his hair. "Guess I was wrong, huh?"

Christine patted him on the knee. "Len, don't give up yet. Things sometimes happen for a reason."

Rising to her feet, she left him to ponder his situation.

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Commander Spock and Lt. O'Connelly waited until nightfall to broaden their search for sustenance. It had been over a day since the landing party had eaten; McCoy had asserted if someone didn't go to look for real food, he was "sure as hell going to," so finally Spock had decided they would risk it instead of having to either stun or bind the doctor.

The Vulcan still hadn't been able to contact the ship, but on the positive side of the situation, the violence that had been so prevalent in the city, appeared to be absent from the rural area in which they were, so each of them had taken a side of the small community and were to rendezvous in sixty minutes.

Spike returned to their prearranged coordinates eager to report.

"I found an orchard of some type. Look at these." She enthusiastically held out the blanket she had taken with her. It was full of fruit. "I scanned them; they're edible. And taste good, too." The security officer gave him a delighted grin. "Here." Spike held out an offering.

"I will wait until we rejoin the others, Lt. O'Connelly. Good work." Spock hadn't been as fortunate, but he had 'borrowed' some clothing to help them blend in with the natives.

"Good idea, Sir." Quickly, they turned to head back to the rest of the landing party.

Suddenly Spock's tricorder emitted a low sound. He dropped to the ground; the security officer did the same.

"What is it, Commander?"

"The proximity warning. There is something in the forest behind us." Adjusting his instrument, Spock again scanned the area, finding no sign of anything or anyone.

Spike whispered, "Probably an animal, Sir. If it's gone that quickly."

The Vulcan scanned the area all around them. Nothing. "Perhaps, lieutenant."

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Most of the group was gathered outside the 'barn,' with the exception of Lt. Redstone who was on guard duty.

Dr. McCoy was finally in a civilized mood; the fruit, with which the conquering heroes had returned, had definitely put him in a better frame of mind.

"Spike," McCoy said to her, "You have outdone yourself, girl." He examined the food in his hand, and said, "It may look like a papaya, but it takes more like a peach. Don't you think, Christine," he held the fruit out as if for her examination.

"Mmm," was all that she muttered. Juice was all over her hands, running down between her fingers. "Spike. Good."

Lt. O'Connelly laughed, "Thank you, Dr. Chapel for that sophisticated accolade."

The other woman just smiled at her, continuing to eat.

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"Sir, I don't know where it came from. I was patrolling the perimeter, scanning the area with my tricorder my entire watch. When I came back to wake you, there it was."

Christine could hear the frustration in Spike's voice. She couldn't hear what Spock said, only the low rumble of his voice in response. Rising from her blanket beside McCoy, she pushed out into the open.

"What's going on"? she asked. "Where did you get that?"

Spock was holding what looked like a basket full of different types of food. Beside him on the ground was a jug of some type of liquid.

"Apparently," he said, gesturing with the basket and to the ground with his eyes, "We had a visitor last night."

Christine said what they were all thinking, "Well, somebodyknows we're here."

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