The Parting of Ways - [USS Enterprise in Interphase]
Yet again, everyone on the USS Enterprise was in motion. It seemed like most of their time recently was spent in that constant state of alert. Lieutenant Uhura gathered together all of the notes, equations and formulas that had enabled the first transport bringing Scott and McCoy home, then transmitted them compressed on a tight beam subspace band to the new Enterprise, repeating the transmission as many times as it took to get it through in whole. That was inside of the first ten minutes.
The next half hour was spent putting together the strongest subspace communicator/beacon they had. Ultimately, all information that was sent by either communications or via the transporter was essentially digital; with something strong enough to lock onto, hopefully the other Scotty would be able to pull McCoy aboard. The best this Enterprise could offer at this point was to act as a subspace beacon herself so that the signal would be as strong as possible.
Then it came to getting McCoy in order. The doctor was in rough shape, though he made the best show of it that he could under the circumstances. At this point, it likely wouldn't be much of a difference if he took something along, so he went to his own quarters, as well as Spock's and Kirk's, and gathered a few of their personal items. If they did get trapped in that other universe for an extended period of time, they could at least have something of their own worlds and lives with them.
Another risk. But then again, it seemed like risk was the order of the day.
The final hour was spent getting prepared. There honestly wasn't much this Enterprise could do, but her crew did whatever they could. Mostly tuning up the communications systems as well as possible for the final act. Several good-byes to McCoy, and some of them rather emotional for the crew.
Scotty kept himself in motion the entire time, diving into tuning everything up and otherwise working more for the sake of doing so than for any amount of actual enjoyment. Something to settle his nerves. He didn't believe in sending men into a potentially deadly situation -- for that matter, he still preferred to take on the most dangerous engineering assignments himself, if only because he had written too many letters in his lifetime. But here he was, about to send McCoy out there.
If it weren't for the fact that it probably would kill the Doctor and the other two, McCoy staying here, he never would have even considered it.
But his hands were tied. And he hated that.
"You didn't build the gallows," McCoy said, a spark of his feisty self showing through now that he knew the mental torment he was suffering was going to come to an end. One way or another. "And you're not making me walk up the steps, either. Stop looking like that."
Scotty shook his head, a short jerk of a motion. "I dinna make a habit o' sendin' men to their deaths, McCoy."
McCoy smirked briefly, though it faded to a more tired look. "You're not. It's my life to risk, and right now, it's damn sure better than the alternative."
Scott just nodded, taking a breath and letting it out slowly and looking off into someplace past the ship, and past the anomaly. "Aye."
"And for God's sake, man, once this ship is out of here, get some sleep. You look like Hell."
That got a bit of a smile out of Scotty, who chuckled in wry amusement, "Well, there's one thing I won't miss -- yer bitchin'." A beat. "Could ye do me a favor, Doctor?"
McCoy nodded, adjusting the strap of the bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, name it."
Scott offered over a very well-insulated box, not too large. "Give this to my alter ego over there?"
"Lemme guess: It's something that can be used as fuel in certain vehicles?" McCoy took the box and packed it into the bag he was carrying.
"In part." Scott gestured to his head, absently. "I canna remember much about what happened; what I do remember's foggy. But I'm guessin' he'll understand this even if I canna quite remember all the specifics. Or anyway, I'm hopin' he will. And if not," and there he shrugged, "at least I tried, aye?"
"Yeah." McCoy checked the chronometer, then eyed the transporter. Scotty could see him considering a tirade against the technology, one of his favorite things to complain about. In this case, it'd probably be warranted, too. But he didn't. "I don't know if I'll be conscious when I land. Got a handy piece of paper?"
Scotty grabbed the notebook he'd been using off of the console, offering it over with the pencil. And chuckled again when McCoy wrote, "If carrier is unconscious, deliver the box to Chief Engineer Scott and the rest of it to the older Kirk and Spock."
"Good thought, that."
"I've been known to have a few." McCoy stepped up on the platform, once the paper was firmly tucked where it would be easily seen. "Two minutes."
Scotty stepped back behind the console he wouldn't be using, eyebrows drawn in worry and some measure of... something like sorrow. "Godspeed, Doctor."
"You too, Engineer," McCoy answered, with a reassuring grin.
Scotty called the bridge, telling Uhura to tell the other Enterprise that everything was set here. It was up to them, now.
[[OOC: Hopefully McCoy's usual player will forgive me for writing him here. All on you folks, now. I'll explain the box via PM, Scotty.]]
The next half hour was spent putting together the strongest subspace communicator/beacon they had. Ultimately, all information that was sent by either communications or via the transporter was essentially digital; with something strong enough to lock onto, hopefully the other Scotty would be able to pull McCoy aboard. The best this Enterprise could offer at this point was to act as a subspace beacon herself so that the signal would be as strong as possible.
Then it came to getting McCoy in order. The doctor was in rough shape, though he made the best show of it that he could under the circumstances. At this point, it likely wouldn't be much of a difference if he took something along, so he went to his own quarters, as well as Spock's and Kirk's, and gathered a few of their personal items. If they did get trapped in that other universe for an extended period of time, they could at least have something of their own worlds and lives with them.
Another risk. But then again, it seemed like risk was the order of the day.
The final hour was spent getting prepared. There honestly wasn't much this Enterprise could do, but her crew did whatever they could. Mostly tuning up the communications systems as well as possible for the final act. Several good-byes to McCoy, and some of them rather emotional for the crew.
Scotty kept himself in motion the entire time, diving into tuning everything up and otherwise working more for the sake of doing so than for any amount of actual enjoyment. Something to settle his nerves. He didn't believe in sending men into a potentially deadly situation -- for that matter, he still preferred to take on the most dangerous engineering assignments himself, if only because he had written too many letters in his lifetime. But here he was, about to send McCoy out there.
If it weren't for the fact that it probably would kill the Doctor and the other two, McCoy staying here, he never would have even considered it.
But his hands were tied. And he hated that.
"You didn't build the gallows," McCoy said, a spark of his feisty self showing through now that he knew the mental torment he was suffering was going to come to an end. One way or another. "And you're not making me walk up the steps, either. Stop looking like that."
Scotty shook his head, a short jerk of a motion. "I dinna make a habit o' sendin' men to their deaths, McCoy."
McCoy smirked briefly, though it faded to a more tired look. "You're not. It's my life to risk, and right now, it's damn sure better than the alternative."
Scott just nodded, taking a breath and letting it out slowly and looking off into someplace past the ship, and past the anomaly. "Aye."
"And for God's sake, man, once this ship is out of here, get some sleep. You look like Hell."
That got a bit of a smile out of Scotty, who chuckled in wry amusement, "Well, there's one thing I won't miss -- yer bitchin'." A beat. "Could ye do me a favor, Doctor?"
McCoy nodded, adjusting the strap of the bag over his shoulder. "Yeah, name it."
Scott offered over a very well-insulated box, not too large. "Give this to my alter ego over there?"
"Lemme guess: It's something that can be used as fuel in certain vehicles?" McCoy took the box and packed it into the bag he was carrying.
"In part." Scott gestured to his head, absently. "I canna remember much about what happened; what I do remember's foggy. But I'm guessin' he'll understand this even if I canna quite remember all the specifics. Or anyway, I'm hopin' he will. And if not," and there he shrugged, "at least I tried, aye?"
"Yeah." McCoy checked the chronometer, then eyed the transporter. Scotty could see him considering a tirade against the technology, one of his favorite things to complain about. In this case, it'd probably be warranted, too. But he didn't. "I don't know if I'll be conscious when I land. Got a handy piece of paper?"
Scotty grabbed the notebook he'd been using off of the console, offering it over with the pencil. And chuckled again when McCoy wrote, "If carrier is unconscious, deliver the box to Chief Engineer Scott and the rest of it to the older Kirk and Spock."
"Good thought, that."
"I've been known to have a few." McCoy stepped up on the platform, once the paper was firmly tucked where it would be easily seen. "Two minutes."
Scotty stepped back behind the console he wouldn't be using, eyebrows drawn in worry and some measure of... something like sorrow. "Godspeed, Doctor."
"You too, Engineer," McCoy answered, with a reassuring grin.
Scotty called the bridge, telling Uhura to tell the other Enterprise that everything was set here. It was up to them, now.
[[OOC: Hopefully McCoy's usual player will forgive me for writing him here. All on you folks, now. I'll explain the box via PM, Scotty.]]