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The air feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
You’re standing in a wide, open clearing -too open. Kirk doesn’t like it. You can tell by the way he scans the horizon, jaw tight, phaser resting low but ready.
Kirk taps his communicator. “Enterprise, we are prepared for transport.”
Static answers first.
Then Scotty’s strained voice. “Stand by, sir. Ah’m havin’ difficulty gettin’ a lock. There’s heavy interference in the upper atmosphere. The transporter canna get a clean pattern.”
McCoy exhales sharply. “Of course it can’t.”
Kirk doesn’t look worried. Yet. “Work the problem, Scotty.”
“Aye, Captain. Ah’ll call when Ah have ye.”
The line clicks dead.
You try not to let it bother you. Being stuck planetside isn’t new. It shouldn’t feel like this.
But it does.
You’ve been on edge ever since you lost your friend. Every delay feels like a threat. Every second too long feels like the universe lining something up to take again.
Spock tilts his head slightly. “Captain. We are no longer alone.”
Figures emerge from the surrounding terrain.
Armed.
Kirk lifts his phaser in one smooth motion. “Easy,” he calls out, voice firm but controlled.
They don’t respond with words.
They respond with fire.
The first blast scorches the ground near Spock. He pivots instantly and returns a precise stun shot. One body drops.
Another attacker moves left-
McCoy is focused on checking Kirk’s side where debris grazed him.
And then you see it.
A weapon raising.
A clear line.
Straight at McCoy.
Your body moves before your mind catches up.
“No-!”
The shot fires.
Pain detonates through your side and shoulder as you collide with McCoy, knocking him off balance. The impact spins you and you hit the ground hard, heat spreading under your skin like liquid flame.
McCoy’s hands grab you immediately. “Goddamn it!”
Kirk’s voice snaps sharp. “Spock- wide arc, now!”
Stun bursts flash in synchronized pulses. Spock and Kirk move with terrifying efficiency. Within seconds, the clearing is quiet except for your ragged breathing.
You can’t get enough air.
McCoy presses his hand against your wound and you cry out despite yourself.
“Stay with me,” he demands. “You don’t get to pull this stunt and then check out.”
Kirk is suddenly beside you. He looks down at the blood spreading across your uniform and makes a decision instantly. He grips the collar of his gold shirt and rips it open, fabric tearing down the front. He yanks it off completely and twists it into a tight compress.
“Here,” he says, shoving it into McCoy’s hands.
McCoy presses it hard against your side. The pressure is agony—but it slows the warmth spilling between his fingers.
Spock kneels at your head, tricorder already open. It hums steadily as he scans you.
“Significant blood loss." he reports. “Cardiac rhythm unstable but continuing.”
“Define unstable,” McCoy snaps.
“Elevated and arrhythmic.”
Kirk slides an arm carefully beneath you. “We need cover.”
He lifts you -strong, solid, decisive -and carries you away from the open clearing toward a natural rock formation that shields you from three sides. He lowers you carefully against the stone, staying close, one knee in the dirt.
Spock follows immediately, scanning again. “Internal bleeding appears localized. Survival probability increases if transport occurs within fifteen minutes.”
As if summoned-
Scotty’s voice crackles through the communicators. “Captain! Ah’m close. The interference is fluctuatin’. When it dips, Ah can try to grab ye -but Ah’ll need ye steady.”
Kirk taps his communicator without taking his eyes off you. “Understood. Give us the signal.”
McCoy leans over you, hands steady despite the fury in his eyes. “What were you thinking?” he demands, voice rough. “That I needed a human shield?”
You try to breathe through the pain. “Couldn’t… lose… someone else.”
The words land heavy.
Kirk stills.
Spock’s tricorder lowers a fraction.
McCoy’s jaw tightens -but his touch gentles just slightly. “You don’t get to decide you’re disposable,” he says quietly. “Not on my watch.”
Spock’s voice is calm, but there’s weight behind it. “Your actions were impulsive. However… they were consistent with recent behavioral shifts following your loss.”
Kirk reaches out and grips your hand firmly. “You’re not alone down here,” he says. “You don’t have to throw yourself into fire to prove anything.”
Your vision swims.
McCoy injects you with a hypospray. Coolness spreads through your system. The pain dulls just enough for you to focus.
Spock looks up sharply. “Captain. Interference dropping.”
Kirk slams his communicator. “Beam us up Scotty!”
“Transportin’!”
The world begins to shimmer.
Kirk keeps one arm around you. McCoy maintains pressure on your wound. Spock’s tricorder continues scanning until the very last second.
The clearing dissolves into light.
And the last thing you feel before the beam takes you-
Is three pairs of hands refusing to let you go.