Chapter 4: Meanwhile

Three days. Three days had passed since the shuttle exploded, since Bones last saw Jim.

A lot could happen in three days. A whole goddamn lot.

Bones groaned and dropped his head onto his desk. The movement shot a spike of pain through the doctor's brain, making him instantly regret doing so.

It had taken him about half an hour to wake up from the crash. He came to lying in the sand next to the fiery remains of the shuttles, a troubled Spock leaning over him. The Vulcan had a streak of green blood smeared across his forehead mixed in with the soot and ash from the crash. He had also been holding his left arm close to his body, which made Bones suspect that he had broken something.

McCoy immediately knew he was concussed. If the excruciating pain of opening his eyes didn't give him the hint, then the nausea that quickly rose to his throat did. He had none-too-subtly thrown up all over the sand next to him. He gave Spock a look that told him to beware should he ever mention it to anyone.

After depositing his lunch from the banquet only an hour earlier- God, had it only been an hour?- Bones realized that something was wrong. Spock had certainly looked worried, and it occurred to Bones that he would know better than to fear for the doctor's health if all that he had was a minor concussion.

The memories came rushing back to him, and for a moment Bones thought he was going to be sick again.

"Where's Jim?" he had slurred, feeling his heart drop in his stomach.

The change in Spock's expression had been infinitesimal. There was a sudden weight to his gaze, one that seemed to be laced with fear.

"Spock?"

"Doctor, I regret to inform you that the captain is missing."

McCoy could've sworn he'd heard the Vulcan's voice break. Or maybe his concussion was altering his hearing. At that point he couldn't have been sure.

Missing? Where could he have gone after a crash like that?

That's when it really hit him. That it was impossible for Jim to have gone anywhere after such a crash. That there was no way that shuttle had just randomly exploded.

They'd been ambushed. And now Jim was gone.

The away team had returned to the Enterprise to begin the search for their captain with their more advanced technology. They had also learned that the Tetrarch had been killed in the explosion, and they had decided that leaving the Paqu people to mourn in peace was in everyone's best interest.

Scotty and Chekov couldn't trace Jim's communicator, leading them to the conclusion that it had been destroyed. Whether that had occurred during or following the crash, no one could say. Bones didn't want to think about it.

"Doctor, I am aware that you would rather not discuss our current situation regarding the captain at this moment. However, it is imperative that we formulate a logical plan to locate him."

Bones wearily lifted his eyes from the desk, having momentarily forgotten that the Vulcan had followed him to his office. The bastard.

In all honesty, Spock looked like shit. His left arm was in a temporary sling, as there was no time to use the bone regenerator to fix the break yet. A nasty looking cut decorated his forehead, and the alien was paler than usual. None of them had slept since the incident. If Spock looked so disheveled, then Bones could only assume that he himself looked at least ten times worse. In fact, he was almost positive he could actually feel the bruise-like bags that had formed under his eyes sagging onto his cheeks.

"We both know where he is."

Spock tried to look confused, but McCoy could see the distress hidden in his gaze.

"Doctor?"

"Damn it," the doctor stood up and slammed his palms down on the desk, hanging his head to avoid eye contact; "you're going to make me say it, aren't you? He's been taken by the Navot. Of course he has. They hate Starfleet, and Jim's the goddamn poster boy. Who else on that hellish dust bowl would have an incentive to kidnap the most well-known starship captain in history?!"

The room remained silent, and McCoy realized he'd been shouting. He exhaled loudly and dragged a hand down his face.

"I'm sorry, Spock. It's just… it hurts more knowing that Jim had a bad feeling about this from the get-go. The kid was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I promised him he'd be fine."

He finally looked up at the XO.

"Does any of this seem fine to you? Can we say with any kind of certainty that Jim is even in the realm of 'fine'?"

'No, Doctor," The emotion in Spock's eyes was no longer hidden, "We cannot."