Chapter 6

McCoy had not utter a single word since the security guards had put him in his chair, in this shuttle, and forcefully, strapped him in place.

The cramped compartment and the somber faces of the shocked officers occupying it did nothing to improve his dark mood. But then, what could?

His throat was aching, from anger or sorrow or because of those final desperate screams, he wasn't sure. Nothing mattered now, though. Everything was over.

Jim had made him leave the ship. He had ordered these guards to drag him here.

And now, Jim was dead. The ship exploded.

He was not sure how much time had passed, but that didn't matter either. He was tired of silently glaring the guards down. His eyes were burning with held back tears.

He was bone weary. He just wanted to close his eyes and pretend none of this had happened. That he was still in his office and Jim was still on the bridge, joking with the crew.

They had two injured man onboard. Nothing serious, but yet, no one had asked him to treat them. The nurses could see that the doctor was in no condition himself to do such a thing, and didn't bother the stricken man.

He felt so alone. Empty. Rejected. Not even the hobgoblin was here to …

He kicked himself mentally. As much as he wanted to show the otherwise, he missed his Vulcan friend. He was forced to turn his head and blink rapidly a few times as his eyes began to wet. Spock was dead, and he envied him.

He wished he had been there, with them both, in that last moments. As he had always imagined it would be. He didn't want to be the one left behind. He just couldn't live with it.

There was a hushed conversation in the cockpit, but he just couldn't bother to try to understand it.

Ambassadorial vessel… warp seven…trajectory 93.04.63…repeating…

'A ship? In here? At warp speed? Why is it coming toward us…?'

"Mayday, mayday, this is shuttle Rio from the U.S.S Enterprise, come in…"

He moved from his seat for the first time, and stood behind the pilot's chair. "What the hell's going on?" he asked in his hoarse voice. "It's another vessel coming this way. She is in warp." she turned to her copilot. "No response. Try to hail them again, lieutenant."

And suddenly someone else's voice filled the cockpit. "This is transporter ship Statder. What is your situation?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar. 'Statder...? Statder! … Those bastards…' his breath caught.

"There has been an attack. Four Klingon war birds decloacked in the orbit of Niurex. Our ship sustained heavy damage."

"Klingons?" the sound faded momentarily. There were only muffled whispers for a few second as if he was asking for confirmation of this new information from someone else on that ship. Then the same disembodied voice came again.

"We can detect other shuttles but yours is the closest to the enterprise's last known position. Is captain Kirk in your shuttle?"

"No, sir. He… um, he was still onboard when our shuttle evacuated."

By the mention of his friend, the pang of regret and sorrow in McCoy's chest intensified. We were the last shuttle and he isn't with us! He held his breath against an involuntary sigh. But still, he didn't move from that spot.

The voice faded again, but they could hear other conversations as if coming from a long distance.

"Let me speak with the first officer, then."

"Commander Spock is dead, sir. He was …"

"Alright, anyone else ranking higher than lieutenant…"

Before anyone could stop him, the Doctor hit the comm button on the console.

"This is Doctor Leonard McCoy speaking, chief medical officer. I demand to speak with your commander."

The signal faded for a few seconds before another male voice filled the cockpit.

"This is Commodore Gordon speaking. What is…?"

"Are you the operator of the Niurex mission?"

"No, admiral Tirusia was in command. We have detected the rest of evacuating shuttles. Proceed to the location of star base 10. We have already notified other shuttle pilots."

"We need help here Commodore. We have injured officers onboard." The young pilot in front of McCoy said.

"I understand but I'm afraid we cannot beam you onboard the Statder."

"You can't or you won't?" McCoy bit back. Everyone could hear 'bastard' at the end of his sentence. The pilot shot him a surprised look.

"We are proceeding to the location of the Enterprise. We have our orders. The war zone will not be safe for the injured…"

"But sir, the Enterprise's warp core was in critical state. That's why we..." said the pilot.

"I know lieutenant. Our sensors can still pick it up," He cut the pilot none too politely. McCoy gasped with the strong surge of hope. "And we sure know how to go by the book and keep a safe distance…"

That was just too much for the Doctor. He didn't like the tone of his voice, at all. 'By the book, huh? As if it was them who broke the rules and got themselves into trouble!' It took every ounce of his will not to shout when he spoke. "Then you know that this mean you have to rescue the survivors…"

"If there are any survivors." Gordon said, cutting McCoy mid-sentence. The Doctor closed his eyes took a deep breath. Then another one. Gradually, he willed himself under his precarious control. "If there are any survivors." His voice was shaking with rage and sorrow. "And you do not have a Doctor on aboard, do you?"

There was a long pause. "Actually, we have three paramedics …" He knew he had him. They had departed in hast and never thought something like this would happen. So McCoy pushed his luck. "But not a senior medical officer, right? Since you guys definitely go by the book, you know that your operation is in violation of about fifty rules of the Starfleet. 'No ship can depart without a senior medical officer onboard.' There is only one way anyone could overlook this…"

"And what is that?" the voice sounded defeated. McCoy let himself smile internally for the first time. "I'm willing to come with Statder to this rescue mission. You can Beam me aboard."

"Why? And let me remind you, this is not a rescue mission…" "My reasons are mine, and there may be survivors. Now, don't waste any more time and beam me aboard." He raised his voice slightly.

There was an unintelligible grunt from the other end and then, the voice of the Commodore came again clearly. "We'll be in transporting range in two point five minutes. Prepare for transport. Statder out." McCoy closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. When he opened them again the pilot and her assistance were looking at him with open mouths.

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