Chapter 2
The wait was agonising. Almost so long that McCoy could almost fool himself into believing that they'd changed their mind, if it weren't for the fact that there were ships looming menacingly behind them just beyond the viewing window. And then there were noises, booted feet marching down the metal corridor, getting painfully closer and closer to the bridge. McCoy could feel his palm beginning to sweat, making the grip on his phaser slip, legs shaking, heart pounding in his throat. He'd never killed anyone before, stunned them with a phaser, yes, and thankfully he knew from that experience that he was a reasonably good shot, but had never taken a life. He wasn't even sure if he could, when it came down to it, but he knew as well as the others did that this wasn't the time to be playing pacifist.
Chekov was stood beside him and he could feel the young Russian quivering too. The boy, and McCoy would always think of him as a boy even though he was now in his early twenties, had been so assured when he'd handed the doctor his weapon, but it appeared the longer they waited the more time they had to fear what was coming. On his other side, Jim was calm and collected, as though he was a veteran soldier waiting grimly for the final showdown. Uhura too had a look of determination on her face and Spock…, well Spock just looked like he always did. They'd all done the academy training, but although Starfleet was a military organisation they weren't soldiers, McCoy's mind screamed, the peaceful nature of the Federation meant that very few were, and taking on deep space pirates was certain to end in their doom.
The boots stopped outside their door. The remaining crew of the Enterprise all held their breath. "We know you're in there." The deep voice from the transmission booming through the door. "Lay down your weapons and come quietly." Kirk gave a slight shake of his head and that was all the indication they needed. The doors slid open and McCoy froze in a moment of fear. Sulu didn't, and as soon as the group of pirates entered the room he swung his sword down, the blade cleaved through the blue humanoid's neck, taking the male's head clear off before swinging it round and driving it through the chest of a human female dressed in leather. In the same instant, the intruders came in firing, there was a sharp gasp as Kirk was hit, but he stayed on his feet. The head that Sulu had decapitated bounced as it hit the floor and rolled a couple of times before it came to rest at the feet of the pirate captain. McCoy wanted to be sick.
The pirate captain held up his hand to stop his crew and looked down at the head at his feet, then up at Kirk. McCoy looked his friend over, the phaser had burned through Kirk's left sleeve, the smell of burning flesh was distinctive and he held his arm tight to his body. McCoy tried to see the extent of the damage but he was on the wrong side of him to get a good look.
"Huh." The pirate stated, looking them over. "I didn't expect you to spill the first blood. But then I didn't expect you to be stupid enough to duel it out." He still had his hand up, holding his team of about twenty mercenaries at bay. Twenty? If McCoy hadn't been sure before, now he knew they'd made a mistake. "But there's still enough time to negotiate. You've taken two of mine, let me take two of yours and we're even." He said and fired a shot.
McCoy saw what was going to happen even before his brain could process it, barrelling into the young navigator and wrapping him in his arms as the pair of them crashed to the floor. McCoy was on the floor, Chekov pinned underneath him before his body registered the agony that burned through his back, burrowing deep into his ribs. He could hear the shouting of his teammates although the blood rushing in his ears was louder. He could feel Chekov's heart beating next to his, feel his panicked breath on his cheek. McCoy coughed and was vaguely aware of spraying blood and spittle all over Chekov's face. He had a moment to realise that wasn't good but then his vision started fading and he could hear Chekov whimpering his name under his breath and Kirk shouting, "Okay, okay, just don't hurt my crew."
He felt rough hands on his biceps as someone grabbed him and shoved him off the distraught Russian. As he was let go his face landed hard against the floor of the bridge but he didn't have the strength to do anything about it or even cry out. And then a boot landed square in his ribs and his last thing he was aware of was the sound of his ribs breaking.
"Stop!" Kirk yelled. "Please stop." He tried to hold back the panic but he'd just watched his best friend leap in front of a phaser blast to protect his youngest officer. He held his hands up in surrender, how could he have called this so wrong? He knew he needed to be paying attention to the pirates but he'd just watched his best friend go down and his mind was screaming that it was all his fault. He could see Chekov pinned under the body of the chief medical officer, blood and charred flesh covering them both. Sulu had gone down too, he was laid propped against the wall and clutching at his thigh, his sword had been wrenched from his hands. Kirk barely felt his own wound, it was insignificant compared to the ache in his chest at the sight of Bones lying motionless.
The pirate captain held up his hand and his crew held their fire. He beckoned some of his men forward and two burly pirates stepped forward towards Kirk's crew. He held still, as did the rest of his team as the men collected their weapons, but he nearly lost it when the bigger one of them grabbed McCoy by the arms and hauled him off of Chekov. Kirk caught sight of McCoy's slack face, eyes closed and blood dripping from his mouth. The pirate dumped him on the floor as Chekov scrambled out of the way and then to make matters worse, the pirate kicked a boot into the doctor's ribs viciously. Bones didn't give any indication he'd felt it.
Chekov sat on the floor where he'd scrambled away, blood staining his face and his shirt. His eyes were transfixed on the limp body in front of him and the charred hole in the back of the blue Starfleet uniform. Kirk stepped over to him, slowly so as not to cause the young Russian or any trigger-happy pirates alarm. He crouched down to place a comforting hand on Chekov's shoulder. He wanted to collapse to his knees as well as he got a look at the smoking raw hole in Bone's back, the fabric of his uniform sticking in the blackened, ragged flesh. Kirk could see a glint of white bone deep into the wound and he had to choke down the bile rising in his throat.
Recovering himself, he took hold of the shell-shocked navigator and hauled him to his feet. As he got Chekov standing, the younger man looked at him with a hopeless expression full of guilt. Kirk imagined that his own expression was something similar. As they stood again the pirate captain stepped forward and approached Kirk. Kirk moved Chekov back behind him protectively as the pirate stopped right in front of him and stared him in the eye. Kirk set his jaw and stared back at him, and then the pirate drew back his fist and threw a punch straight to Kirk's face. Jim's head snapped back at the impact and he felt his nose bust open, causing blood to spray. He staggered back and felt Chekov's arms reach out and support him but he stayed on his feet.
"All I needed was you. You should have let the others go with the rest of the crew. Still, perhaps I can double the price for all of you." The pirate captain sneered. He gestured to his men and more came forward to manhandle Kirk's team forward. "Take them to the brig." The man ordered.
"Hey boss, what about him?" The large build man asked, shoving his toe at McCoy again.
"He's dead ain't he? Take him out with the trash."
Kirk didn't even have the strength to struggle as two men grabbed his arms and hauled him in the direction of the bridge. He was vaguely aware of an angry Scot shouting and struggling to his left and Spock calmly telling someone that physical restraint would not be necessary but he couldn't wrench his eyes away from his best friend lying hopelessly on the cold, blood-stained floor.
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