A little piece of Irony
Author's notes
To be read before you read the actual story
-Main characters are: Spock and McCoy
-Quick description:
Strange happening on board the Enterprise cause some characters to switch bodies. Bad stuff ensues.
-Rating: T for language, Hate, Possible violence, and beehives of hair.
-I do not own Star Trek TOS. Paramount does. I don't own Kirk, or Spock, or McCoy, or Rand, or anyone else. The only thing I own is the idea (Which I got from a cartoon…) and Ensign Tomalley.
(Please note: In accordance to my usual style, I don't know how the story will end. It could be funny; it could be angst, heck they could all explode. I don't know, don't expect me to. Thanks.)
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Leonard H. McCoy sat in his office, leaning back in his chair, bored out of his ever-living mind.
He briefly wondered if anyone was going to come to the medical ward today. Even Chapel had failed to show up.
He heard a swish sound and quickly resumed his 'busy' look. He heard a soft, click, clack of boots walking along the floor.
He wasn't sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn't this.
Around the corner came Spock, his arm bleeding horribly. There was a gash nearly six inches long coming down from his right shoulder and the blood was like a geyser on Vulcan. (Where there geysers on Vulcan?) He was wearing a t-shirt, so his shirt wasn't ripped. And Spock was getting blood everywhere.
Dr. McCoy leapt up, absent-mindedly reaching for his mini-tricorder.
"Spock, what the devil happened to you?" he said, quickly running the scanner over the wound. After deciding it wasn't poisoned or anything, he pushed Spock onto the nearest hospital bed.
"I was climbing the false rocks in the Ship's Gym, when the ship had a temporary power failure, and I fell," he said, watching emotionlessly as McCoy grabbed the necessary tools to heal Spock's cut.
"Didn't you have a spotter or whatever the devil they're called?" McCoy said, running one of his various tools over the wound, successfully closing it.
"I did not believe it necessary; the ship should not have shifted." Spock watched as McCoy's face worked through the various stages of anger.
"Dammint Spock! You're damn lucky you didn't break a bone…" he paused, taking a deep breath to prepare himself, trying to figure the best campaign to use against Spock.
But he never got a chance, because at that second the ship flipped quickly to the left. The artificial gravity had no chance keeping up. McCoy was thrown into Spock, sending them both hurtling over the edge of the bed. McCoy felt his vision go fuzzy, orange, and then take on a green tint.
He sat up, wincing as he felt a shooting pain go through his arm. He glanced down and saw a thin line, crusted with green blood. With eyes wide he turned slowly and came face to face…
With himself.