A/N: Hello again, folks! There's a bit of a squick factor in this one, though I did my best to mostly circumvent it. Part of it is partially inspired by something my dad witnessed at his job which was both sickening and amazing. As such, first responders of all kinds need to have:

Nerves of Steel

Scotty flipped open his communicator. "Scott t'Dr. McCoy."

After a moment came a gravelly crackle: "McCoy, here."

"I've got th'backup generatair ye requested. Waitin' outside t'be let in."

"Alright, Scotty, give me a moment."

Scotty was mildly surprised to see the doctor himself open the vault-like door to the hospital. He understood they had been pretty swamped receiving casualties from the Arxicthor bombings, which were technically still underway. Before Scott beamed down the Enterprise had picked up another explosion, but he didn't know the details. It made him nervous.

Fortunately, the hospital Dr. McCoy and other members of the ship's medical staff was an absolute fortress, left over from the planet's years of intense warfare. No one could beam in or out, thick walls protected the inside from any blasts, and special key codes were required if someone inside didn't let you in.

"We're in a bit of lull, at the moment," McCoy explained as they started walking down a long hall. He looked tired, but not yet falling-over-exhausted. "So your timing is perfect. We need it set up in the East Wing, Sector H."

"Roger that. Would ye like me to repair the old one while I'm at it?"

McCoy blinked. "The generator's not broken, but we have more patients than this place was designed to hold. It's been draining on all the hospital's resources to run this many extra biobeds and all the equipment hooked up to the people on them. Sector H seems to have it the worst, though."

Scotty nodded. "Well, maybe I ken look around an' see what ken be done t'stretch your power further while I'm here."

McCoy smiled wanly at him. "That'd be fantastic."

Before Scott could reply a loud clanging broke out throughout the hospital. He flinched, startled, and likened the noise to a sort of klaxon. McCoy tensed beside him. "We have incoming wounded."

He started off in a different direction than they had been headed. Scott ran up to him, the generator bonking against his legs. "Doctair, where is-?"

"We'll be headed there with this wave, so just follow me," McCoy instructed. Scott did as he was told.

It seemed to him to be an underground ambulance bay. Stretchers were unloaded as doctors, nurses, and paramedics swarmed around the latest batch of wounded. Scotty hovered around the edge of the commotion, trying to keep an eye on Dr. McCoy. He thought he heard a horrible, wet, choking sound, and tried not to see what was causing it. Why did he think he could smell iron all of a sudden?

"Okay, go! Go! Go!" McCoy's team detached from the chaos with an anti-grav gurney and barreled straight at him. "Scotty!" he shouted, and Scott instantly leapt to follow them.

He caught sight of what was on the gurney and nearly threw up.

McCoy hopped up on a little stand attached the bottom as did a nurse on the other side of the patient. Everyone else kept rushing the gurney and reading tasks as they ran, but those two at least got to have their feet planted. Scotty watched as he jogged with them, horrified, but morbidly fascinated.

McCoy hadn't stopped snapping out orders and moving his hands in an ever-exchange of tools and the nurses never stopped relaying tricorder readings. Scott didn't understand why McCoy was focused on the man's side when clearly his legs… or whatever was left of them… were the biggest-

"Cordrazine and permaseal," McCoy said calmly.

It was a different tone than the doctor had been using. It confused Scott, but McCoy seemed almost in a zen-like state. As they entered a room and the gurney turned, he suddenly saw why. His stomach lurched again as he glimpsed through the patient's side where McCoy was massaging his heart to a specific rhythm.

Scott didn't register much after that. He was pretty sure he was locked in place as other patients with their own teams also filtered by him. He thought it was very warm.

"Are you Scott?"

He wasn't sure how many times he was asked that until he shook out of his daze. A young nurse looked at him, concerned. "Are you alright, sir?" he asked again.

"What d'ye want, laddie?" Scott managed to exhale.

"I was told to show you where to set up the backup generator."

That's right. He was still holding it in his clammy hands. As he looked around, not at the surgeries, he realized they were in Sector H.

"Lead th'way, laddie," he breathed, relief and thankfulness washing over him as the nurse led him out of the room. He was grateful, yet again, for his chosen field of machines. He would stomach broken-down mechanics any day over triage with sights like that. McCoy could take care of the broken-down people – and Scott made a mental note to never again trivialize that task.