Chapter 4

McCoy gasped for breath and released the bloody mess that was still gripped in his nerve-wrecked hands. The pain in his back was overwhelming and black spots danced in front of his vision as he fought back the unconsciousness that was creeping up on him. He couldn't give up now, their fight had been noisy and there would be other pirates coming to see what had happened. The Klingon had fallen across him when he'd died, he was heavy with muscle but McCoy shoved and kicked him aside and scrambled out until he hit against the wall. He leaned against it and took a moment to control his laboured breathing. He looked around, no one had come running yet. The corridor was much like many of The Enterprise's corridors but he looked ahead and saw what he'd been brought to, an industrial garbage chute. He recognised it as the incinerator for medical waste. He gulped down the horror at the thought of nearly going up in flames.

But it was ideal, in a way, because the pirate had brought him almost to where he needed to be. Which was good because he doubted he would have had the strength to go far. Steeling himself he got to his knees and crawled towards the body. Using his left arm pulled on the wound on his back so he held it to his side and used his right to get back to the Klingon. He'd seen his fair share of horrific injuries and blood and trauma rarely got to him, but knowing that he had caused it was another feeling altogether. He retrieved the knife, wiping the bloody blade on the thigh of his uniform pants before tucking it into his belt. The Klingon had a disruptor rifle too, which McCoy grabbed slinging the strap of it over his head and shoulder. He wiped his face on his sleeve and then struggled to his feet.

He concentrated on his breathing to control the pain as he staggered down the hallway. He coughed wetly and spat blood onto the floor. He tried hard not to think about it too much, knowing that he didn't have too long, he was unsure how long he'd been unconscious but his lung must have been steadily filling with blood since his wounding and he would be sucking more in with every breath. He couldn't see the damage to his back but he knew it must be bad.

He got to the door that he'd been looking for. The doors slid open automatically and he breathed a sigh of relief as his Med Bay was revealed, seemingly untouched by the invaders. He got in and as the door shut behind him he went to the control panel at the side of the wall. Wiring wasn't his expertise by any stretch but he pulled a few connections apart and when the door didn't open upon approach he hoped that the same would work for the outside. He doubted it would keep him safe forever, but it may delay them a while. He stumbled towards the nearest cabinet, wrenching the doors open and finding what he was looking for. He mentally thanked his nursing team for being so efficient, had the tidiness of the Med Bay been left up to him he would likely have to spend an hour hunting through the chaos to find each thing he needed. He grabbed the nearest tricorder, the internal regenerator and a myriad of other supplies and dragged the pieces of equipment over to the nearest bio-bed.

He sat on the bed and struggled to peel his uniform shirt and black undershirt off. The process was difficult and agonising and it brought tears of pain and frustration to his eyes, the material was stuck to his burned skin and he could barely move his left arm without causing so much pain it threatened unconsciousness. Eventually he was sat, bare chested and gasping, his destroyed clothing discarded on the floor. He fumbled for the tricorder and turned it on, moving awkwardly to scan over his back. As he waited for the scan to complete he hastily set up an IV of saline and a bag of A+ blood to counter the fluids that he would have been lost due to the burnt tissue, tapping the needle into the vein in his forearm. He realised he could see his reflection in a glass cabinet. He twisted slightly to use it to see. It wasn't the best method. A mirror would be better, but the nearest one was in the bathroom and he wasn't sure he had the energy to walk over there and back again. Still, he could see well enough to see that there were two deep blackened holes, the first just to the left of his spine, just above his diaphragm, the second, the exit wound, off to his left side. It he twisted awkwardly he could see it, blackened and burned, skin cauterised by the phaser burn. He was lucky he supposed, that he'd twisted away from the blast, had it gone straight through him, it was unlikely that he would've survived this far. Still, his lung had been compromised and would need repair, there would be damage to ribs, muscle and skin.

The tricorder came back with the results he was expecting. His left lung had collapsed and was 60% full of blood. Three ribs had been destroyed by the phaser blast and two others on his right side had been cracked by that vicious kick he'd received. The phaser burns covered eight percent of his body, and were 3rd degree. He had lost almost two pints of blood, it would have been worse had the heat of the phaser not cauterised the wound, his oxygen levels were dangerously low and his heartbeat was too shallow and fast as his body struggled to pump what oxygen it could around his body.

The diagnosis was enough to induce a panic but he blocked it off, put those thoughts away and tried to concentrate on what he needed to do. The damage to the lung was, of course, the most pressing, he thanked whichever deity was listening for modern medicine as he set up the internal regenerator and adjusted it to his specifications. The damage was substantial enough that had he the time and a team to do it for him, he would have used his DNA to grow a new lung and transplant it, the regenerator was good but would leave scar tissue that would cause problems in the long term, but it would do for now. What it would not do would be clear the blood from his lung and for that, considering current circumstances, he would be best to use an old-school method. His shaking hands grabbed a scalpel and medium bore plastic tube. Thinking about it would make it harder so without allowing time to second guess himself he raised his left arm out of the way, found his fifth intercostal muscle with his fingertips and sliced deep into his chest with the scalpel, frothy pink blood welled up, slicking his fingers, he flicked it off and grabbed the drain and forced it into the hole he had made. Blood frothed through the tube, dripping out of his side and running down his chest. The agony of inserting the chest drain was tamped by the instant relief it gave his breathing, the valve on the drain allowing the blood to come out of his lung. He lay down on his side and started the internal generator, he'd normally do this under sedation, the machine caused a great deal of pain and itching as the dead cells were stimulated back to life. He's shaky hands gripped a hypo of painkiller instead and shot it into his arm, closing his eyes and breathing through the pain as he allowed the machine to work.

Kirk and his crew had fallen into an almost suffocating silence. Kirk had first tried getting the attention of their captors, shouting and banging on the walls, demanding to know what was happening, demanding first aid supplies, food and any other amenity he could think of. No one had come though and in the end he'd fallen quiet and gone to sit back down. Sulu had fallen into a deep sleep against Uhura's shoulder and Spock was sat beside him in a light meditation. The others had settled down too, all wrapped up in their thoughts, Chekov still hadn't said a word and just kept staring straight forward with that haunted look in his eyes. Kirk knew his friend Bones would have known just what to say, despite his irascibility he was always able to soothe the captain's own disturbing thoughts and help him see more clearly. It was just one of the many things about him that he'd struggle to live without. Scotty may not have the same way with words as the doctor but at least he was trying, he'd moved the pair of them so that they were sitting with their backs against the wall but the Scot still had his arm slung around the younger crewmate's shoulders. Kirk was glad his team were so good at looking after each other, because all he'd done lately had let them down.

It was hours after they'd first been left there before anyone came back. When they did, they were greeted by the pirate captain and two of his crew, a huge tattooed human male and a short but stocky humanoid, bristling with a thin layer of dark brown hair. Kirk had never seen anyone of that species before. The hairy humanoid grinned at Kirk, displaying a row of razor-sharp teeth. It had the desired effect but Kirk stood to meet their captors, refusing to be deterred. Beside him he was aware of Spock becoming alert, staying still to see what developments were about to occur before making any further moves.

"Kirk." The pirate captain summoned with a chuckle. "Come with me." The three pirates drew phasers. The captain pointed his at Kirk. The other two targeted Spock and Uhura.

"Where am I going?" Kirk approached the force field cautiously. Spock had slowly risen to his feet but Kirk motioned for him to stay where he was.

"The people who are going to pay me for you require proof of life, now come."

Kirk nodded. He doubted that Starfleet would care much for Kirk or the rest of his captured crew, they had a policy of not bargaining with terrorists or pirates, and he'd certainly ruffled a few feathers over the years which had not exactly endeared him to some of the Admiralty. They were more likely to come after the Enterprise itself, which could give them the help they required. At the very least he hoped they'd be able to arrange rescue for the rest of his crew that had evacuated. "I'll come with you on one condition, my crew need medical aid, food and water. Get them those things and I'll do what you want."

"You're not in a position to make demands, but if you come without making a fuss then I'll see what I can do."

They kept their phasers held up as they released the force-field. Kirk strode forward and the pirate captain clapped a hand down on his shoulder, gripping him tightly, meaty fingers digging into his collarbone. Kirk shrugged him off and gave him a glare, he was going to go with him but he wasn't going to allow himself to be bullied. The force-field slid back into place as he passed through and he allowed himself to be lead out of the room. He didn't look back to his crew, not wanting to see the disappointment on their faces.

They started down the corridor and within a few twists and turns Kirk knew they were going back to the bridge. Kirk followed along dutifully, wondering who he'd end up speaking to from Starfleet.

"You know Starfleet policy is not to engage with hijackers and terrorists." Kirk said. "And I've upset more than a few of the Admiralty. Let us take the last shuttle and you can have the Enterprise." He offered. "It's what I should have done in the first place."

The pirate looked at him quizzically, raising his scarred eyebrow. "You're right about Starfleet. They're a heartless bunch, why else do you think I left? But lucky for me it's not Starfleet I'm selling you to, and lucky for you, the piece is higher if you're all in one piece."

Kirk schooled his facial expression at this new information. He'd had no idea there had been a price on his head but he supposed it shouldn't surprise him. He racked his brains to try and work out who it would be, but realised the list of enemies he'd made over the years was too long. "Who?"

"You'll see soon enough." The pirate promised.

"What's your name?" He asked instead.

"What does it matter to you?" he growled.

"Well I can't keep calling you That-Asshole-That-Stole-My-Ship forever, it's a bit of a mouthful."

The man barked out a harsh laugh but didn't give anything further.

Kirk was going to say something else but then they reached the bridge. He noticed the drips of blood that had been dripped down the corridor and the pool of it just inside the door. There was a lot of it, no wonder Sulu had looked so pale. He'd need better medical care and soon and it strengthened Kirk's resolve to get it. Despite making a conscious effort to put the thought out of his head, he found his eyes drawn to the other bloodstain on the bridge floor. It felt wrong somehow that there wasn't much of it, how could such a small amount of blood loss be so devastating? How could he explain this to Leonard's mother, what about Joanna? McCoy had always worried about his daughter growing up without her father around, now she really would have to. She would be devastated.

He knew he couldn't think about that now, he had to compose himself. He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself, but then they were interrupted by a shout.

"Rydan!" An Orion woman dressed in a form-fitting jumpsuit appeared at the door, she sounded angry.

"What is it?" The pirate captain asked harshly.

"It's Krov." She said, "You'd better come see."

"What has that bastard done now?"

"He's dead. Someone's fucked him up good."

"What? Where? Get me a visual."

The Orion woman seemed to know her way around computers, less than a minute at a terminal and she was able to project the security footage in front of them. The camera was a wide angle view of a corridor. Laying on the floor was a large humanoid, flat on his front in a pool of blood. He was facing the camera but there was so much blood that at first it was hard to see. It took Kirk a moment of scrutiny to realise the male had been a Klingon, there was so much damage done to his forehead. Two dead eyes stared out at them through the carnage and thick congealing blood. Kirk marvelled at the strength it would take to cause that kind of damage to a Klingon. Whoever had done it had left a blood trail, Kirk's followed the smeared trail, it came towards the camera, a clear human handprint on the floor as though they'd been crawling away and another more smeared one where they had used the wall to pull themselves to their feet. The trail then moved out of the view of the camera.

"Have you followed the trail?" Rydan growled.

"Yeah Boss." The Orion woman answered with an air of condescension, "It goes to the Med Bay. I've tried getting in but the door is jammed. I've got some guys working on it now."

"Good, replay the security feed. And get him out of here!" Rydan growled to his two assistants. The pair of them grabbed Kirk by the arms and hauled him away. Kirk resisted, staring over his shoulder at the screen as they marched him out of the room, determined to see as much of the footage as possible. The Orion woman clicked a few buttons and had the footage reversing at high speed. Just before he was yanked out of the room Kirk caught a glimpse of the perpetrator, his familiar face set in grim determination as he staggered away from the crime.

Authors Note: With all my stories I've been trying to get them to fit into both AOS and TOS worlds so as a result I've found myself using medical equipment I'm not all that familiar with. I've tried to use a combination of my admittedly limited knowledge of TOS, along with my own 21st century first aid knowledge. As with other technology that will be coming up I've tried to stay as close to the originals as possible while at the same time keeping it in line which what I believe would be reasonable technological/medical advancements. For example, biometric scanners to open doors etc. I hope this is okay, but if there is anything which doesn't fit then constructive criticism is appreciated. Also, not a medical professional, I've tried my best. Thanks.

As usual reviews are motivation!