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E is for Emergency Ops
Characters: Chapel/McCoy (because I am apparently incapable of writing one without the other)
Word Count: 300
Rating: G

"You've got to. You're the only one qualified to do it."

"Qualified? I never finished my damned MD. I'm certainly not qualified to perform emergency surgery, let alone in these conditions!"

"Dammit, Chapel, you don't have a choice. I know you completed your surgery rotation. Dr. Blanchard showed me his write up of you - the bastard was practically gloating. He wanted to recruit you on the spot. Said you had the steadiest hands since Puri."

Christine Chapel flushed under the praise, but still shook her head. "I can't-"

"You can. And you will. Would you trust anyone else here to do it? None of them have any damned medical training besides first aid."

Christine looked around and her shoulders slumped in defeat. The security officer would be no help, and the pilot and the engineer were busy trying to rig up something to communicate with the Enterprise.

"That's my girl. I can talk you through it, but only if we do this now. If we wait much longer, the toxin will start to effect my speech and vision."

And therein lay the crux of the problem. Bad enough that their shuttle had crashed while delivering medical supplies to the colony. Bad enough that interference from the atmosphere had rendered all communication - let alone transporter function - impossible. But then McCoy had to go and get bitten by a helthinal, a venomous snake native to the world, with the charming adaptation of leaving its fangs behind in its victim. The anti-toxin could only do so much while the two needle-sized fangs were still imbedded in his thigh, happily pumping venom into his bloodstream.

Christine took a deep breath and willed her hands to stop shaking. She then gently caressed the doctor's face. "Alright, love. Tell me where to start."


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