Somewhere in the throng of the soldiers was Leonard McCoy and -- not surprisingly -- he was not exactly happy and content with the situation at the present time.

So much for keeping Sparrow and Kennedy out of trouble, the Starfleet doctor thought bitterly as he faced the Third Party members and kept his phaser trained on them, his hand steady and expression grim with determination. Hell, McCoy hadn't even wanted to mollify their stupid idea, but when the pirate had told him how the last minute draftees may be affected by the shifting irregularities, it had left the doctor with no choice but to join them and ensure their safety.

Such was his concentration that he did not react to the sound of wood splintering somewhere around him and he shrugged it off as fellow draftees in the fray. Here he was on the battlefield, essentially alone and surrounded by Goddamn chickens clucking away angrily around his feet, when a stray bullet met its mark and felled the nearest Third Party member to him and another one was taken out in the same manner in quick succession. McCoy looked over and...

"... You've gotta be kidding me."