Eric was hunting a rabbit with a bow and arrow.

Humans could not live off salad like Vulcans.

The rabbit had a hole in the left ear and it was slowly staining it to become a visible target. Hellis had gone back earlier with his lunch. It had been a long time since they had seen the doctor. Ripley didn't talk much about it but Eric could tell that it pained the man to have lost someone under his command. A security officer who had not died in over twenty years in the field was highly impressive. Getting stranded and losing the crew like flies was not good. They were watchful for the sight of the natives. They were using large pieces of rock to write down their reports using fine, sharpened rock pieces since they did not have paper or padds. It felt like they were living in the ancient times rather than the future.

Ripley had decided tht they not use their padds until they were rescued.

And also so they wouldn't leave them out which in turn would result in one of the natives finding it.

They chose not to risk the chance.

Eric fired at the small animal.

The rabbit stopped moving landing on the grass.

"Good job, Swinson," Eric told himself, with a smile.

He lowered the bow then made his way toward the limp, dead rabbit. He saw the shape of a figure in the distance. The man paused, contemplating the plan that the commander had laid out. He ducked behind a tree taking out his arrow then put it into the bow. The figure kept moving coming forward. He narrowed his eyes at the clearing figure. He lowered the bow and arrow with a smile appearing to be relieved. He put the arrow back into the object wrapped around his shoulder then made his way to the rabbit.

"Doctor!" Eric called. "Good to see you again!"

McCoy stopped.

"Any of ya dead?" McCoy asked.

"Not really," Eric said. "fifteen of us," he yanked out the arrow then put it back into the container. "how did you get away from them?"

"I never really left," McCoy said, as the hair on the back of Eric's neck rose up. "I don't think ya can help me with this."

Eric saw that McCoy held a snake like item in one hand and there was a pained expression on his face.

"Surely we can," Eric said.

"Ya can kill me," McCoy said. "They know I am not alone," His hand was trembling as he started to raise the item. "Ya hear about the stories of the goa'uld?" Eric slowly nodded taking out his bow stepping back once putting the dead rabbit into the same container. "I killed the other one . . I can't now. I just fuckin' can't. And fightin' this thin' is not easy."

Eric stepped back, further, his gray eyes staring at the doctor in fear.

"You are right," Eric said. "we have some wounded and. . . I am sorry that it had to be this way. . . and we really could have used your expertise."

"There are a lot of thin's I wish happened," McCoy said, with a pained smile. "if ya catch Spock. . . can ya tell him. . . . ." his hand was trembling. "that poem you caught me writin'. . . ya remember it?" Eric nodded. "tell him that."

"Vulcans love poetry," Eric said.

"Yes, they do," McCoy said, then pressed the trigger.

Eric stepped aside letting go of the arrow letting it fly. He fled on foot in the different direction. McCoy's eyes glowed gently, light yellow color. Then it flashed back to normal. His right hand gripped on the arrow digging it in further into him. The human body was not capable of moving under extreme pain and fatal injuries. He dug it further into his lungs feeling a tear striking down. He took an oath to save lives not take them. But this was a exception. He was saving their lives. It would take time for the retrieval team to get him and take him into the esophagus for further repair. It felt like pieces of his soul was being yanked away by the machine. Which it was in every way. He felt a hand gently graze the side of his face as he winced.

That was not Spock.

But it was, but it was Not Spock.

He had the Vulcan's face, eyes, and hair but he wasn't really there.

"Hinek," Not Spock said. "you are killing yourself."

"The needs of the many weigh the needs of the . . . AHHH!" McCoy screamed. He panted. "one."

The normally stoic expression became emotional on Not Spock's face.

"I am coming," Spock said.

"Hah," McCoy said. "ya just sayin' that to me because ya my hallucination." his eyes winced.

"True," Not Spock said. "but it is what you believe in."

"And see me in this bad shape," McCoy said. "if ya were here then I would be sent to the Enterprise and bein' saved right this minute," he briefly closed his eyes. "blood loss. . . injury. . . pain. . . I am hallucinatin' ya."

"That is a logical assessment," Not Spock said, his hand placed alongside the human's hand.

"I am not apologizin' to ya since ya not the real thin'," McCoy said.

"Apologizing to a hallucination is illogical," Not Spock said.

"Got that right," McCoy said. "first hallucination is ya. . . what a surprise."

"Actually it is not," Spock said. "when one is nearing the pillars of death they begin to yearn for their loved ones," the warm hands clenched around the doctor's hand. "to comfort them on their painful ordeal."

"So I am yearnin' ya," McCoy said.

"Affirmative," Not Spock said.

"Not bad to spend the last few moments of my life with my boyfriend," McCoy said.

"It is a better fate than ones you are thinking of," Not Spock said.

"Stop readin' my mind, damn it," McCoy growled. "ya just ruined the moment."

"I did not," Not Spock argued back.

"Don't argue with a man on his death bed," McCoy warned, glaring at the Vulcan.

"I can argue with you to the ends of time and space," Not Spock said. "I can argue with you to death. This moment we are sharing is not ruined," Not Spock squeezed the doctor's hand. The zinger was placed along his side. "It is a tender, heartwarming period between us."

McCoy would never admit that he was touched by a hallucination of his boyfriend. The same one who might be thinking that he is dead. Was he even worthy of having Spock anymore? Was that why they were sent to the wrong planet? Because they were dysfunctional, impaired high risked assets? A tear escaped the side of the doctor's face. Not Spock stroked the tear off the side of the doctors face looking at him like there was a beautiful marble stature laid before him. There was a look in the Vulcan's eye. Admiring, plausibly. McCoy could not always catch the emotion that fell from those eyes because Vulcan's were so complex and secretive.

Not Spock wrapped his two fingers around McCoy's fingers sending affection, love, and care while restraining the pleasurable arousal.

"The real Spock would say otherwise and admit that he is wron'," McCoy grumbled.

"This time I am right," Not Spock argued "and I do not believe you are dying, doctor," his voice dripping heavily in emotion.

"Ya hear bein' emotional," McCoy said. "and ya not a doctor."

"Anyone can be a doctor," Not Spock said. "but not surgically."

McCoy nodded his head then briefly closed his eyes.

"Got that right," McCoy said.

Suddenly the doctor felt a kiss on his lips. The feeling of someone entering his mouth with their tongue. He could feel the Vulcan's warm, large hand on the side of his face. The feel of the man's hairy wrist brushing against McCoy's cheek. The doctor's eyes remained closed not questioning the entire scenario. The fight against the second serpent was hard but he was going end this body with his own bare hands and enjoy what happened afterwards. McCoy's head fell onto the grass feeling his dick harden. The feel of the Vulcan's hand grazing along the human's thigh.

"Doctor," Not Spock said. "keep holding on."

A feeling of warmth spread through his face.

"Ya not Spock," McCoy said. "Spock is not interested in sex."

There was a lengthy pause as a hot tear made its way down the side of the human's face. McCoy was fine with having a romantic relationship without sex. He could go without it with Spock. He didn't really care about sex. The flow of warmth stopped and the feeling of beloved and cherished left as it had. Painfully. McCoy could feel the flow of blood in the palm of his hands. More tears came down the human's cheeks. He slid it deeper but turned the arrow which earned a gasp in pain.

"You are not alone," McCoy heard his daughter's voice.

When his eyes opened again, he saw Joanna sitting alongside him.

Her small, soft agile hands wrapped around the doctors hands.

He could see the woman's hazel eyes and short brown hair.

Another thing stood out to the doctor, she was in her cadet reds.

"Pumpkin?" McCoy asked.

Not Joanna smiled back upon him.

"Pa, it's okay," Not Joanna said.

"I. . ." he winced in pain. "don't have to hallucinate again the next time I do this. . ." he raised an eyebrow back at the younger woman. "right?"

"Hopefully," Not Joanna said. "Pa, why do ya always get hurt all of a sudden?"

"I am the universes chew toy," McCoy said, as he could feel her hand sliding the item forward.

"I love ya," Not Joanna said.

"I love ya too," McCoy said. "what brings ya here?"

"You," Not Joanna said.

McCoy rolled an eye.

"Frankly," McCoy said.

"Ya a strong doctor," Joanna said. "and I am proud that ya are my pa."

"Me too," McCoy said, shedding a comforted smile. "pumpkin. . ."

"Yes, pa?" Not Joanna asked.

"Please don't leave me," McCoy said.

"Lon' as ya don't leave me," Not Joanna said, as their grip together tightened. "Devils hand, cancer, tumor, and now this. . ."

"Be glad that ya don't have to face that any time soon," McCoy said. "I frankly saved ya life."

"Yes, you did," Not Joanna said, with a laugh.

"I admit . ." McCoy said. "I attract danger. That is annoyin'."

"I hope I don't," Not Joanna joked.

"You really should hope ya don't," McCoy said. "no one. . . should. . . go through . . . this. . ."

"No one should," Not Joanna said, with a nod.

McCoy began to lose consciousness as he heard the sound of familiar boots coming his direction from behind him. He saved someone today. He saved the lives of others. He was not a soldier but a doctor. McCoy hoped Spock understood what he had to do. He hoped his mother could forgive him for dying on her not once but twice. He remembered so many things that Spock and he had done during their shore leave together. The boots stopped and his eyes closed as he fell into the steady stream of darkness.


"Commander," T'Plass approached the commander bound by a wheelchair in the dark but barely lit structure. "we are preparing to move."

"Is this all our life is going to be?" Ripley asked. "Running from. . . Goa'uld?"

"No, sir," T'Plass said.

"We can't keep running," Ripley said.

"Commander," T'Plass said, approaching the man's side. "there is a very hostile mountain range with a field of grass. The wildlife is more dangerous than the ones we have come across. . . but if we do not get in their way then they will stay out of our way," the human looked up toward the lighter man. "I sense we will be taken off this planet in a matter of days."

"Lieutenant. . ." Ripley said. "why did you save me from that bear?" he looked up toward the Vulcan. "You could have easily left me to die," T'Plass had a scar trailing down the right side of his face with that very same eye closed. "you could have your vision. . ."he turned his head away. "both eyes. . . open," he shook his head.

"The risk was worth it," T'Plass said. "not many humans like being commanded by Vulcans."

"Now, that is not true," Ripley said, looking over toward the Vulcan. Ripley had a growing beard along his cheeks. "Vulcans are the most sane, well put together capable leaders that have ever graced this quadrant. Hell, serving under a Vulcan would be preferable. I would trade places with you. . . I don't like making hard decisions."

Ripley lowered his head.

"It is not easy for us to make those decisions as we make it look," T'Plass admitted.

"If. . if. . if. . we get back, alive," Ripley said. "I look forward to beating you at Halo."

"I do not see that happening," T'Plass said.

"The next time we meet," Ripley said.

"Ah, when we have the time," T'Plass said.

Ripley nodded.

"I am going to take early retirement. . . ." Ripley said. "then sue the ass off whoever sent the command to send us here. No one in their right mind would send us here without our fucking knowledge! FUCKING COWARD!"

T'Plass retrieved several of the belongings that had been gathered and created during their stay placing them into the large basket. Ripley wheeled himself toward the exit. We can see scars on the side of the man's bare muscular arm that appeared to have been well healed. Blackman went inside gathering her belongings putting them into the duffle bag that seemed to be intact. Blackman had scars along her face and her right arm seemed to be missing but only stump that started from the elbow and ended at the shoulder. The men and women moved their moved plants into the hand made pots that seemed to be made of clay into a larger basket stacking the plants alongside each other. Some of the men had lost more fingers than the woman and their hands were covered in dirt.

Fellis sighed, leaning against the opening of the building.

"I can't believe we have to leave so soon," Fellis said.

"Look, mate," Ryan said, clasping a hand on the white man's shoulder. "nomads had to leave after a greater period of time than we did."

"But they were never aliens," Fellis said. Fellis felt like an alien. One who did not belong to this planet. "

"There is a museum in South Dakota regarding the migration from Mars to Earth for humanity," Ryan said, taking his hand off the man's shoulder. "they were the aliens to the planet."

"I will miss this place," Fellis said, leaning away from the wall taking his belongings with him.

"So will I. . ." Ryan looked back at the emptying inside.

Ryan had scars along his neck, cheek, and face. The army uniform had been tattered at the shoulders yet it remained partially buttoned for the man. The women had gone ahead and removed the sleeves from the uniform to reveal their prosthetics or their arms that didn't have a prosthetics. They mainly had their feet but their arms were not as fortunate due to the unforgiving wildlife. Ryan looked tired. His light green eyes looked about. He went over and began to sabotage the building at some of the key locations with his boots to make it fall apart. Polly came over to the man's side placing a hand on his shoulder as he was trembling. He didn't want to go. He just wanted to stay in one place and not have to be constantly threatened by a war scenery. He was fine with away missions but not this. His hand traveled down his face feeling tears down his face.

They were security officers.

Not fugitives.

Not campers.

Not hunters.

Was it even worth just packing up and going deeper?

Couldn't they just fall and let themselves be taken into civilization?

No, the prime directive explicitly indicated that showing one selves was forbidden until warp drive was reached.

Fellis went past him following after the leaders of the group.

"Are you okay, man?" Polly asked.

"No," Ryan said. "I am just worried if I will be compromised to continue serving in Star Fleet."

"Don't worry," Polly said. "the girls and I are doubting how we can operate in the field as star fleet officers."

"Comforting," Ryan said. "for the women who fought against man eating goats that sounds below you."

"Those goats were going to kill you men," Polly said. "we can't do it alone. We rode them out with our unity," she shook her index finger at the man. "remember that. Because that is part of being able to climb the ranks and gain your own command. . ." she lowered her hand. "like Ripley said, being a amputee is only a hiccup."

Polly went past the man.

"It is just a hiccup," Ryan repeated, picking up the handle to his wheeled basket. "just a hiccup."

We watch the group make their way out of the building. Shortly after they were in the distance, we can see the building fall apart into a mess of finely, well kept treebark bark and twigs and mud. T'Plass paused, looking over in the distance, while on the long windy path of a mountain. He could see the fourteen other men and women using other as support and tied together by a improvised made rope. Humans found ways to keep themselves together even with the loss of their lower limps or upper limbs to keep them balance. He looked over toward the wheeling upward commander. He may have lost the ability to walk but the man was still going strong.

And personally.

That also gave hope to lieutenant.

And quite possibly the other ensigns.

T'Plass resumed his trek.

Hope moved like wildfire among the humans, like a deadly disease, but only kept them going forward.


A part of McCoy was overjoyed that Spock wasn't feeling what he felt now.

Whatever the purple man had him be placed onto, for the beginning of his capture, there were razor sharp thorns digging into his skin. His body riddling in pain. halfway into his ass. Sweat fell down his skin as he winced. There were thorns into the man's back. He was lucky that not one of them went into the part of the spine where a gentle touch can cause paralyization. The link between them was broken. The lack of a link hurt and it felt like something was missing. There were thorns embedded halfway into the man's palm. His knees were embedded by small, gray thorns.

"I know that you killed my friend," the purple man. "and I am going to draw your misery out."

"Ya losin' this war," McCoy said. "ya in a underground shelter and ya not goin' to take me with ya."

"What makes you think I won't?" the purple man asked.

"Unlike Hitler and his men, I have a fightin' chance of gettin' out of here alive," McCoy said.

The purple man leaned back upwards as the ground trembled.

"Keep thinking that," the purple leader said.

"And you just want me to die with you not as a hostage," McCoy argued back. "ya losin'. The forces ya have on this planet have either been captured or killed in the field includin' their serpents. You have united a entire fuckin' planet against you for once cause. You should have expected that."

"No one expects the french inquisition," the purple leader said. "my back up will be here. . . soon. . . and then I will have the edge."

"Keep talkin'," McCoy said, as the lights flickered.

"Sir," a commander came to the purple leader. "squad leader eight has reported causalities. The nuclear bomb has been dropped," McCoy's eyes slightly widened as he felt a dead weight landing into his stomach. All those people. Dead. "and I believe he is dead as that was the last he wrote."

"What about the other squads?" the purple leader asked.

"We lost them over the desert area," The commander said,

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY CRASHED INTO A DESERT WITH NUCLEAR BOMBS?" the purple leader demanded, walking away from the doctor. "What about the others?" his hands were pressed against the palm of his hands. "did they survive?"

"Headed this way," the commander said.

"Listen to me, carefully," the purple leader said, motioning the lieutenant out and he went out the door.

McCoy was bound to the chair unable to move enduring the pain. His eyes felt heavy. His ass felt sore. He felt pain radiating from his joints. He briefly closed his eyes hoping. Praying to himself. . . that they destroyed the rotten bastard. Sometime this week. He hadn't been fed in two days in the chair. His stomach growled. The symbiote that he had been given was working over time to repair the damage that he had been given. His wounds were healing and bleeding at once. He was going to die of blood loss. McCoy's battle with the symbiote to control the body was difficult at best. His eyes closed. He couldn't move his neck as there was a strap keeping him in. When his eyes opened again, there were a row of rings glowing a shade of white and then they vanished for people dressed on the opposing side. One of them was what appeared to be a forty year old native with bags under her eyes and graying brown hair that was up in a brown.

She reminded him of someone.

The women and men came over to the doctor's side.

"Urgh . . ." McCoy groaned, as a woman scanned him with a square see through object.

"He has one inside him," the purple physician said.,

"Oh shit," the captain of the group, the forty year old, swore. "it won't be easy helping him?"

"Depending how old the snake is," the purple physician said.

"Pry the binds off, Miss Heal'uc," the purple captain said. "Heloc and Teloc mind the doors, I will contact our ride."

McCoy noticed the incredible buff, muscular taller woman nodded from across the two people who were standing beside him. The men of the group were holding long squirt gun like device. There was a woman reading a sign observing it with intrigue that no one was bothering to pay attention to her. Heal'uc yanked off the binds with a single pull from his ankles, knees, wrist, waist, and neck. Heal'uc was a silent woman with curly dark hair and she had a clear forehead. The purple physician took out what seemed to be a wide metal brace then slid it under the doctor's wrist. It clasped around his wrist binding into his skin with a hot sting. The purple captain spoke into a square device. McCoy's neck felt sore. He could not move it.

"Shhh," the purple physician said. "we are here to help."

"Pelie, get the fuck away from that sign," the purple captain said.

"There's more of the serpents language," Pelie said.

"The last time you looked at a sign and got interested in it, you fell through it into a hide out and nearly got yourself killed," the purple captain said. "I am not risking the loss of our asset who happens to know the language of these bastards."

"Goa'uld. . ." McCoy said. "they are called the Goa'uld."

There was silence lingering in the air as recognition went through their eyes.

"See?" the purple woman asked. "I told you that was their name. You wouldn't believe someone who underwent Kat'hal'u to speak with their past lives than speaking to your own soul."

"I don't need to speak with my own soul," the purple captain said. "I speak with it all the time."

Heloc and Teloc sealed the door using a special setting to their weapon. Heal'uc took the doctor out of the chair carefully making sure to not get herself cut. The purple physician had added the healing binds to the doctors to the points that had holes bleeding steadily. McCoy was leaned into the woman's neck as the group gathered in the center across from the chair. There was a bang from the door bending it inwards. The purple captain went over then put Pelie over her shoulders heading toward the group speaking into the device. She came to a stop at the center. McCoy could see a flash of light into a bright a bright yellow scenery. He felt and tired. His stomach ached for food. He was placed onto a soft, warm bed. He had been sitting terribly for the past four days.

"Carhur, start the ride!" the purple captain said. "Signal command that we have the hostage!"

Heal'uc went over to a panel.

"You are not going back doing there, are you?" the purple physician asked.

"He did say duffle bag," the purple captain said.

"That's just an excuse to fight him," the purple physician said. "it is not worth it!"

"When is fighting worth anything?" Heloc asked. "sir, would you like back up?"

"If you want to die," the purple captain said. "of course."

"That bastard killed my entire family," Teloc said.

"Mine too," Heloc said. "we are going to make them pay."

"We all lost someone today," the purple physician said, the took out a small cube from her device as the squad centered across. "here, eat this, it is a nutritional block engineered to fill for a two course breakfast meal. Egg pasta and bacon."

"Thank . . . you. . ." McCoy weakly took the item.

"You have twenty-five minutes!" Carhur said. McCoy put it into his mouth and started to chew, slowy, with the semi solid food.

"Good enough time as ever," the purple captain said. "Heal'uc, ring us down!"

Heal'uc nodded, pressing the appropiate buttons

"Ahhh," McCoy said. "oh . . so. . . good."

"They will help you regain your strength," the purple captain said. "you can stop fighting now," he could see in her eyes sincerity. That he didn't need to be scared. He briefly cleared his throat. "Leave it to us."

"There were others. . . like me. . ." McCoy said.

"We got them two days ago," the purple physician said. "came upon our old base actually by accident. Happy accident!" McCoy sighed a relief. "Rest, doctor."

McCoy surrendered to the darkness and fell to a comforting rest.