Chapter 9

Kirk had to wrench himself away from his friend to go into the cockpit of the shuttle. He wanted nothing more than to hold him and find a way to fix the doctor, the way the doctor had always been there to fix him. But he knew the way to do it would be end this whole mess so reluctantly he let the injured man slip from his embrace as he got to his feet. As he stood his eyes met Scotty's. Scotty looked tired and upset, he smiled at his captain grimly and placed a hand on his back as he allowed him passed into the cockpit. Jim knew he had to put his game face on and quickly if he was going to get them through.

He took a seat in the cockpit next to Chekov who was concentrating on the control panel in front of him. He was trying to coax every last ounce of power into the shuttles engines in order to outrun the ships that were following them.

"How we doing?" He asked the young Russian with a reassuring smile.

"Not good Keptin." He grimaced. "They're gaining on us. We are just staying out of range of their tractor beam. If they wanted us dead we would be by now."

"Scotty," Kirk glanced over his shoulder to where Scotty was standing leaning on the back of Chekov's chair. "Any chance you can give this old thing a bit of a boost?"

"Aye, I think so Sir. If they don' wannae shoot us, I could mebe take the shields offline, reroute the power tae the thrusters."

Kirk nodded. "They had something to jam our shields, I think it's safe to assume they wouldn't do us much good anyway. Anything else you can cut back on?"

"Lighting? Comms? The life support system is being taxed already wi' there bein' too many o' us, an' I doubt Len'd thank yer fer making it even harder tae breathe."

Kirk nodded. "Shields and lighting then Scotty. Leave me comms."

"Aye Sir, I'll have them eating ooer space dust in just a jiffy." Scotty crouched down behind the chairs and ripped the doors a panel off the wall to access the wiring.

"How is the doctor Keptin?" Chekov asked, his expression filled with worry.

Kirk gave him a warm smile. "You know McCoy, tougher than he looks." He said with more confidence than he felt. "Let Spock worry about him, we've got jobs to do."

"I know but…" the young man's voice quivered.

"No," Kirk interrupted firmly. "I don't want to hear it Ensign. I need you to concentrate on outrunning these bastards. Right now, that's all you need to be thinking about. You get us to that planet without them boarding us and let me worry about the rest. Bones'll be fine, you'll see. Now, set me up a comm channel with Giotto."

McCoy rested awkwardly against the hull with one shoulder, his body twisted to allow Spock access to his left side. The regenerator itched and burned as it stimulated new skin cell growth. He wasn't sure how long it would take to repair himself this way, ideally he would have grown a skin graft in the lab, could've been patched up within a couple of hours. As it was, the whole thing could be futile anyway. Spock had been right, there was so much other damage that a bit of dermal regen was too little too late. Spock had known, McCoy had been afraid that he was going to say too much but thankfully he'd seen the look that McCoy had given him and had kept the rest of his concerns to himself. McCoy knew that Jim needed to be focussed if he was to get them out of trouble, and he wouldn't be if he was worrying about him.

Jim. McCoy sighed thinking about him. As soon as he'd felt his friend's arms wrap around him, he'd felt a wave of relief. He'd sunk into Kirk's arms and allowed him to take his weight. He wanted to stay that way, but the longer he allowed the captain to keep him in his embrace, the more he felt his defences slip away. And it wasn't just exhaustion and pain, there were other things lingering in the back of his mind that he wasn't yet ready to acknowledge. So it was almost with relief when Kirk left him to go to the cockpit. He'd rested his shoulder back against the shuttle wall and run a shaking hand over his face, by the time he dropped his hand back down to his lap, the mask was back on.

He was twisted away from Spock but he could feel the Vulcan's eyes boring into him. But Spock he could cope with, Spock was cold and unemotional and wasn't touching him, except for a cold hand on his arm serving to keep his trembling body still while he worked the regen. Clinical, that was the word, and it was what he needed right then in order to keep the mask in place. That was until he started to feel something creeping at the corners of his consciousness. It was a weird feeling but he knew what it was instantly so he sought it out to shut it down.

'Spock! I know what you're trying to do.' He thought loudly.

'Doctor, I am only trying to help. I could attempt to ease your pain.' The words came to him in his head, almost as though he was hearing them, and yet at the same time being very aware that he was not. Like when he would get a song stuck in his head.

'You've offered that before and I've always said no. Why do you think today is going to be any different?'

'Because to my knowledge you have never been in as much pain as today. You don't want the Captain to know but…"

'Jim can't know! He can't afford to be worrying about me, he needs to concentrate.'

'I understand. However, I believe he would worry about you less if he knew I was taking some of your pain away.'

'But wouldn't that have an effect on you?'

'Yes.' The voice in his head seemed somewhat resigned. Like he knew he had lost this argument already. 'I would feel only a fraction of your pain however any mind meld can be physically draining, those in the service of combatting discomfort even more so.'

'Right! And then there'd be three of us out of action instead of just me and Sulu. Not gonna happen. Wait, aren't we melding now?'

'No.' Spock thought at him calmly. 'I am not in your mind and cannot read your thoughts. I hope you know I would never initiate a meld without your permission. This is…' He paused as though he was trying to come up with a way to explain. 'You are in great distress Doctor, and as a result you are projecting a significant level of emotion which any telepath would be aware of. I myself am struggling to contain my emotions and it must be that you picked up on my own projections. It appears you may have more extrasensory ability than you give yourself credit for. I was quite surprised you were able to communicate in this manner.'

'Huh.' McCoy was so tired he don't even know what to say to that. It was a revelation to be dwelt on another time.

'You're tired Leonard.' McCoy almost balked at the use of his first name, it was a sure sign of the Vulcan's hidden sentimentality. 'I know the regenerator is uncomfortable but you should try to get some sleep. You will need it if you want your body to have any chance of healing.'

'You're right.' McCoy conceded. 'But I want you to promise, no melding and no sedatives.'

'I promise Leonard.'

McCoy shut his eyes and leaned more heavily against the hull of the shuttle. The last of the adrenaline had fully worn off now and the come-down was making him sleepy. He could still feel Spock on the edge of his mind and drew comfort from it as he drifted into a restless sleep.

He woke up again to a loud curse from their Scotsman. He opened his eyes blearily to find that he'd fallen asleep curled up on his better side. Someone had found a couple of blankets in the back of the shuttle and had draped one across his body, folding another under his head. He was shivering under it, although when he wiped a hand over his face he realised he was hot and clammy. Infection or stimulant withdrawal, he wasn't quite sure. His ribs had been bandaged again but they still hurt, a lot. He wanted to pull the blanket up over his head and carry on sleeping but a careful hand touched his shoulder, "Doctor," Spock said gently. That was all he needed to realise that their present circumstances required his attention.

He struggled to sit up, instantly more alert. He couldn't feel the steady vibrations of the engine. Wherever they were, they'd stopped. The rest of the crew were in a hurry. Kirk and Chekov were stood at the doors to the shuttle where Uhura was handing out phasers from the shuttle stash. Scotty was helping Sulu limp his way into the pilot's seat but once he got him settled in there he came rushing back and took up one of the phasers that Uhura offered him.

"Spock, help me up." McCoy asked, placing a hand against the hull and trying to push himself to his feet with limited success.

"Doctor, allow us to handle this. I merely wished to inform you we had reached the planet."

McCoy shook his head. He reached out and found the disruptor rifle that he had abandoned earlier, slinging the strap over his head and trying again to get his feet under him. "Where's that bag of hypos?"

"You have already taken too many." Spock observed. "It is already surprising that you have not sent yourself into cardiac arrest. Doctor, stay here. You can guard the shuttle from here, prevent anyone from boarding." He suggested.

McCoy knew he was being manipulated, Spock had given him a job to do just to keep him safe. But as he knew he didn't have the strength to stand he just nodded his acceptance, adjusted the rifle so that it was aimed at the doorway and took a steadying breath.

Spock joined the others and armed himself. Then Kirk opened the shuttle blast doors and lowered the boarding ramp. McCoy's eyes stung at the sudden bright light and hot, dusty air that flooded into the shuttle. He was far enough back that he was still shaded but could see dry, cracked earth stretching out towards the horizon and a trio of pale suns in a purple tinged sky. He watched Kirk walk cautiously down the ramp and out of view, flanked by the rest of his loyal crew.

"Where is that asshole who killed my crew?" A familiar voice growled.

Kirk's voice was cold, "You won't get to him without coming through me. And I'm guessing your Romulan lady friend there wouldn't take too kindly to you destroying the merchandise."

"True," Rydan said. "But I'm sure she won't mind if I offer her a discount in exchange for one of the others." He then shouted, loud enough that he knew McCoy would hear, "What do you think Asshole? You've sacrificed yourself for them once already, who are you gonna do it for this time? Would you throw yourself in front of the Vulcan? Or is it just young boys you have a thing for?"

"Shut yer mouth ye bastard!" Scotty shouted back.

"Come on out Asshole! Or I'll start picking off your buddies until you do."

McCoy took a big breath to control the rising panic, he tried to get up and slipped, his unsteady legs unable to hold his weight.

"I'm counting to three and then I'm blowing the Vulcan's brains out." He called.

"Shit!" McCoy muttered, almost frantic now. His flailing hand found the satchel he'd been carrying.

"One!" Rydan shouted outside.

He flipped open the bag and threw his hand inside. The others had taken the weapons but the hypos were still there. He jammed one into his shoulder and pressed the trigger.

"Two!"

He felt the synthetic adrenaline flowing to his veins, his heartbeat racing, the pain seeping away. This time he had the strength in his arms to push himself up, the power in his legs to keep himself on his feet.

"Three!"

"Wait!" McCoy bellowed as he made his way to the door.

Authors Notes: So, I was thinking I'd have this pretty much wrapped up by now, but Spock gave me a disapproving eyebrow and demanded he have a bit more time with our good doctor. Thanks for sticking with me this long, almost at the big finish. Not too late to leave that review, they really make my day and I could use the motivation.