The Abyss

Bones was focusing all his senses on the darkness ahead. But it was incredible difficult to focus on something you couldn't see. He decided that it would make more sense to concentrate on his body, his legs and arms, to prepare himself for the jump. He had about two large strides to make, a rather short run up but it would have to do. Then, at the threshold of the cavity, Spock and Chekov would give him a strong push to whatever he was heading to. The space in the cavity was extremely limited and confined, however there was just enough room to allow for such an 'operation' as Spock had put it. Bones wished he would have had more opportunity to prepare for the jump, but the space, or rather the lack of it, just didn't allow it. He would literally have to jump the gun.

Bones smiled as Spock started to count backwards from ten like they were engaging in some sporting competition. Nine, eight... he would have to catch the edge of the threshold with his right foot, that would give him the possibility to push himself into the air; five, four ... and stretch his arms forward in case he wouldn't jump far enough and would have to catch the edge of the plateau...

Three, two, one.

"Jump!"

Chekov and Spock shouted out simultaneously and McCoy took two large strides. He hit the edge of the cavity with his right foot just as Spock had advised him. He jumped forward, with all his strength, feeling Chekov to his left and Spock to his right as they pushed his torso forward. His strength combined with theirs, catapulted McCoy into the freezing air. Moving his arms like a long-jumper, the Doctor was surprised that he had even time to notice that it was much colder outside the cube. And then he felt a solid surface beneath his right foot. McCoy pushed himself forward, dropping on all fours onto the plateau.

Everything had happened so quickly that McCoy didn't even have time to think about the abyss he had just crossed. His hurting bones and freezing limps didn't leave a doubt that he was still alive.

"Made it!" he shouted out, as much to himself than to Chekov and Spock on the other side. The Doctor held up his tricoder that was shining dimly in the darkness to give Chekov some orientation. "Come on Chekov, what you're waiting for?"

The ensign turned towards Spock who nodded at him, his stony face being lit slightly by his tricoder. If his superior officer was indeed worried, Chekov wouldn't get the impression from his face. Like usual, the Vulcan's features were rigid and completely emotionless.

"You will do the jump just like Doctor McCoy has demonstrated, Ensign!" Spock sounded uncharacteristically sharp. It was an order. An order Chekov was more than eager to fulfil.

McCoy positioned himself impatiently at the edge of the platform, his tricoder around his neck so that Chekov could see him, his arms stretched towards him.

Chekov decided that he would be scared later. He took two large strides, and pushed himself off the edge, assisted by a powerful push from Spock. While flying through the air Chekov saw that McCoy and the platform were moving away too rapidly. The plateau was moving past the cube too quickly. He wouldn't make it.

BANG. Chekov crashed against the side of the platform with full force. Thankfully, McCoy was already lying on the floor, leaning over the edge, as he had seen that Chekov would probably not make it. The CMO had hoped he would catch Chekov's arms. Then, with the ensign's assistance, he could easily pull him up onto the platform. But unfortunately fate had different plans.

The Doctor had managed to catch the Russian's left hand, but the boy wasn't reacting. He dangled above the abyss lifelessly, only prevented from falling to his death by McCoy's strong grip on his arm.

Bones knew instantaneously that Chekov had crashed his head against the side of the platform and was now unconscious.

As there was nothing to hold on to or to get a grip on, McCoy had to use all his strength- not only to hold on to Chekov but also to somehow keep himself on the smooth surface of the plateau. Due to Chekov's dead weight, McCoy was slowly but steadily being dragged over the edge.

"Spock!"

Bones shouted as loud as he could. He wouldn't make it without Spock's help. And neither would Chekov. Just a second later, he felt a rush of air next to him as Spock dropped onto the plateau with an elegant shoulder roll. The CSO had watched Chekov's unlucky collision and knew instantly that McCoy would have only seconds to hold on to the ensign.

Spock got hold of Chekov's other arm and with combined strength they pulled him up. They pulled him a few meters away from the edge. McCoy immediately started assessing Chekov's injury, his scanner running over the young man's head and body. Spock was checking the readings on his tricoder. It was still pitch black, but as all of their instruments were in use, the dim light they were exposing enabled them to see one another's faces.

McCoy's scanner was flickering due to another interference and he cursed the instrument with a flow of obscenities that wouldn't have been out of place in a whorehouse. The scanner seemed to have taken note and was suddenly stabilising itself again. McCoy continued his assessment.

Spock watched on with concern as the Doctor examined Chekov. McCoy impatiently was shaking his head as he had to wait for a moment until his scanner and tricoder would present him with the result of their readings.

"Where the hell are we, Spock?" McCoy took the moment of inaction to enquire about the platform.

Despite the Adrenalin rush, Bones felt incredibly tired, annoyed – and angry. Why did landing party duty always have to be such a pain in the ...?

"The plateau is approximately 160 square meters in dimension. About ten meters to our left is a larger construct that is hollow inside. The construct has a similar size like one of the cubes, but it's static and contains separate spaces within it. Possibly a building of sorts" Spock informed McCoy with a composed voice.

McCoy nodded, never failing to be amazed how quick Spock was coming to his conclusions. His own readings were coming through now and he frowned at his tricoder. This wasn't good. Not good at all.

"Spock, Chekov's got a severe concussion. I need to administer the brain-stabiliser to reduce the haemorrhage. Can you give me light?"

Spock knelt down at Chekov's right side and used his own and the ensign's tricoder to assist the Doctor. McCoy's eyes were fixed on Chekov's head and he conducted the task with total concentration. Spock knew it was a delicate task that demanded exact precision from the CMO.

"I need to adjust the stabiliser exactly above the haemorrhage, otherwise I could cause more damage than good" McCoy explained as Spock held the lights even closer.

McCoy put the scanner on Chekov's forehead, just above the left eye, while reading the measurement on his medi-tricoder at the same time.

"Done!" McCoy looked up at Spock, unshielded concern evident in the Vulcan's dark eyes. "He should be waking up in about 12 hours or so. But he will be extremely dizzy for a while and not able to walk for at least another 12 hours."

Spock nodded. It hadn't escaped McCoy that Spock had put his hand around Chekov's wrist the moment the lights of his tricoders hadn't been needed anymore. Spock's index and middle finger rested on the boy's wrist and Bones wondered if that was on of Spock's Vulcan voodoo healing techniques. But he refrained from inquiring about it. Whatever it was, it could only help the kid.

"Spock..." McCoy wasn't quite sure how he could put this to the Vulcan "What worries me most is the temperature."

Bones was making an effort not to chatter with his teeth too loudly. It was incredible cold. 10 degrees minus now. Instinctively, he sat as close to Chekov as possible to give him some protection from the freezing cold around them.

"Chekov's head will be just fine, but as his body functions are working on reserve so to speak as long as he's wearing the scanner, he could, and very likely will, develop pneumonia." McCoy elaborated on his previous statement.

"Can he be moved?" Spock asked calmly, but McCoy knew he had heard genuine concern in the Vulcan's voice.

"Yes."

"I suggest you hold him close then, Doctor. Your own body temperature will function as a source of warmth."

Spock wouldn't have to tell McCoy that, he had already thought as much and was pulling Chekov into his arms. The ensign was still warm, but his body temperature was dropping to 36 degrees as McCoy noted to his dismay. He looked towards the stoic Vulcan with open concern: "You better sit next to us too, Spock. Your temperature is already down to 40 degrees."

While he kept an eye on Chekov's readings on his medi-tricoder, Bones was also keeping a close one on Spock's body functions. If Spock wouldn't be careful, unconscious officers would soon surround McCoy.

Spock just raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He sat down next to McCoy and Chekov and drew his long legs towards his chin, wrapping his arms tightly around them.

He just needed a moment to think. There must be a logical way of action. He had faced similar perilous and complex situations before. Why was this situation different and why was it so difficult to think straight all of a sudden? As Spock focused his energy to control his body functions, Spock knew the answer, but he wasn't allowing himself to admit it.

A distant but piercing scream, coming from the depth of the abyss, made Spock and McCoy lift their heads simultaneously. Unmistakably, it had been a human scream and it had send chills down both their backs, chills that weren't due to the cold.

There was no doubt about it. They both knew this voice. A voice that was unique to the 430 crew aboard the Enterprise. A Scottish voice.

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A short chapter for a change as the next 'scene' is completely different and requires a separate chapter. As usual- feedback and comments are very welcome! Thanks.