52. Turf

52. Turf

"How are they?"

McCoy looked up at the concerned looking pilot and had to admit that he was feeling just as worried. He ran his scanner over his patients again, soothing Chekov as the young man struggled slightly. The young navigator and his captain were laid out next to one another, both men mostly dead to the world. Although Chekov's injury was somewhat worse, McCoy had heavily sedated the captain, who had tried to get up one time too many.

Sulu peered around the corner nervously. "Here's hoping they got our message."

McCoy snorted as he checked his friends' bandages. "With our luck we'll-"

There was the bright blinding lights and disruptions of a teleporter and then they were in the transporter room. "-be here for a while." McCoy blinked. "Well damn... That was-" He caught sight of a somewhat flustered Vulcan hurrying over. "Oh, that explains a lot."

Between themselves and several other officers, they managed to get the two injured men to the MedBay and onto a couple of examination beds. Spock eyed his friend as McCoy began to work on the wounds, frowning at the amount of blood and dirt covering the captain. "Doctor..."

"Don't ask." McCoy shook his head. "These fools... There's a lesson to be learned here."

"And that is?"

"Never get between a Ylil and it's 'turf' Mr. Spock." Jim's voice was weak but had that humor in in as the young man opened one eye to peer up at the men looking down at him. "Isn't that right Bones?"

"Shut up."

Spock frowned. "Captain... I was under the impression that this was to be a relatively easy and peaceful venture."

"Spock, when is it ever easy for any of us?"

"Indeed."