Jim was running late.
The scheduled beam down was point two minutes passed and there was no sign of the Captain.
On the pad to Spock's right, Chekov shifted his small pack to sit more comfortably on his shoulders. The Ensign was going on a short expedition through the woodlands with Jim; testing upgrades to some devices while the scientists collected and analyzed various samples from the Class M Planet Vanipoi. While the planet lacked signs of intelligent life, much of the landmasses flourished with flora and fauna.
The three science officers selected for the mission were standing across the platform from Spock while the security officer stood to his left. Equipment jangled as one scientist twitched impatiently.
One point three minutes late, Jim ran into the room and to his spot on the transporter. A pack hung off his left shoulder, swinging from his sudden stop. He nodded to Lt. Kyle at the transporter console, who then activated the transporter before Spock could comment on Jim's tardiness. A gentle hum and the transporter sprung to life; breaking down their molecules and beaming them to the planet below.
As Spock's molecules recombined, a brief wave of dizziness passed through him. The oddity was mentally noted for later study as he took in the desolate, gray landscape; bereft of any sign of life save for himself and Chekov. The rest of the away team was nowhere in sight, nor the dense vegetation that scans had indicated should cover the landing zone. The sun was setting, not rising in what should have been clear skies. Thick clouds hung heavily above them, thinning along the western horizon.
Something had gone very wrong with the transport.
Chekov stumbled a step forward, collapsing as his legs visibly shook and his breath came in short puffs. Spock took a step towards the Ensign and nearly followed him to the ground. A wave of dizziness engulfed his senses. Rhythmic, meditative breathes brought back strength and clarity. The dizziness passed and he could discern no anomalous sensations remaining in his body – however, they had no medical tricorder on either of their persons to analyze the true state of their vitals.
Chekov was carefully standing back up as he took in their surroundings.
"Mr. Chekov, are you alright?"
"Aye, Commander." The Ensign glanced once more at the barren valley and the steep cliffs bordering it. His gaze then focused on the sunset. "Ah… where are we? And where is the rest of the team?"
Spock felt one eyebrow rise at the Ensign's inquiry. "It is apparent that there was a transporter malfunction. Perhaps you could utilize your equipment and technical acumen to determine our current location and establish communication with the rest of the away team." The possibility that the rest of the team could have been lost in transit was unacceptable.
Pulling out his upgraded tricorder, Chekov slowly spun as he scanned the area. His eyebrows furrowed as he completed his turn. "Nothing. There is no one in range." Pulling out his PADD, he continued scanning and analyzing data.
Spock pulled out his communicator, flipped it open and called the Enterprise.
Silence.
"Enterprise, do you copy." The seconds stretched into minutes as Spock continued to attempt contact with Enterprise. Silence continued to be his only response.
"Ai yai yai."
"Mr. Chekov?"
The young man looked up from his PADD, eyes wide, as he responded, "Commander, if my calculations are correct, then we are outside of sensor range of the Enterprise… assuming she is still in geosynchronous orbit. Even if we are in range, I am picking up an anomalous reading in the atmosphere that would likely interfere with communications… but… none of the scans taken from the Enterprise indicated any anomalies in the atmosphere. Nothing that would interfere with communications… or the transporter."
Outside of communications range right after transport should be impossible. Something was very wrong about the whole situation, but there was nothing they could do about it at this point in time.
"Curious. Can you determine the cause of the anomaly?"
"Ah… um… uh…" half a minute of data analysis later, Chekov scowled at his display before responding in the negative. The tricorder's scanners were incapable of detecting the specific cause of the anomalous readings.
Spock knew just as well as the Ensign that the Enterprise's scanners were more powerful than any handheld device. If there had been anything off about the planet's atmosphere they should have known about it. The fact that it had not shown up on any scans was alarming and required further study. However, regaining communication with Enterprise and locating the rest of the away team took priority.
As Spock put his communicator away, a fat raindrop splattered against his brow. Several more followed in quick succession, dimpling the soft soil. A moment later heavy rain poured down on them, within seconds both Enterprise officers were soaked.
Spock felt an immediate need to change their current tasks. It would be unproductive and potentially hazardous to remain in the almost violent downpour. "Did your scans of the landscape reveal any viable shelter?"
Chekov halted his effort to put away his tricorder and instead adjusted a few settings, scanned their surroundings again, and then led the way. The soft soil underfoot became a thick sludge as they neared the steep cliff walls. Chekov began climbing, nearly falling once when a foot slipped out from under him. The Ensign managed to catch himself and Spock followed him up the slippery rocks.
After climbing approximately four point three meters an opening in the cliff face appeared. Entering, it opened up into a cavern - five meters deep, seven meters across and four meters high. Small crevices, too small for them to squeeze through, led deeper into the rock.
The ensign heaved a sigh as he shook water from his hair, already curling into tight spirals from the moisture. Spock adjusted the setting on his phaser and used it to heat several rocks to reduce the chill in the air.
Water poured across the entrance to the cave in an unrelenting flow and strong winds whistled passed outside.
"Perhaps I could find a way to boost the communicator signal output, adjust the frequency, maybe get a signal through." Words turned into immediate action as Chekov pulled tools out of his bag, along with a small floodlight, and began dismantling several devices to access their inner components.
"Can you also make a transporter beacon?" Even if they failed to contact the Enterprise, perhaps a transporter beacon would be detected.
"Aye, I can do that!"
Spock left the Ensign to his work, Chekov was fully qualified to make the adjustments without assistance.
Pulling out his own tricorder, Spock investigated their surroundings more thoroughly. Sampling the rain, he was pleased to note that it was composed of dihydrogen monoxide with a few trace elements, safe for consumption.
Spock emptied the Ensign's waterproof bag, rinsing it out several times before leaving it set up to collect water just outside the cave entrance.
The soil and rock scans were less appealing. Their shelter consisted of fine grained igneous rock and the loamy soil was rich in silica, iron and magnesium. He made a few adjustments to the scanners, hoping his suspicions proved unfounded. The scan of the valley complete, a quick analysis of the data confirmed his suspicions.
The four-mile-wide valley was the caldera of a volcano. One that had erupted approximately ten years ago.
Spock spent the next hour collecting as much data about their environment as he could. The results all came back the same. No volcanic gases. No seismic activity. No detectable magma near the surface - although the tricorder lacked the capacity to get accurate scan deep inside the volcano.
However, the volcano appeared to be in a non-eruptive state.
Satisfied with his information, Spock settled down to meditate through the dark hours of the night; though it was only mid-morning, ship-time.
One point four hours ago his main concern had been gathering sufficient samples for proper analysis of the planet's surface. It was supposed to be a purely scientific mission with minimal risk. Now, all of their fates were uncertain… and Captain Kirk had a propensity for finding trouble. That, of course, was assuming that the rest of the team had survived whatever had disrupted the transporter.
A sharp inhale and Spock halted the negative thoughts. Slowly exhaling, he released his concerns.
Captain James T. Kirk would beat the odds, he always did. Not even death could stop the man. A transportation malfunction four days after celebrating his 32nd birthday was not how Jim's life would end. Spock focused his thoughts on the crew's celebration and time spent socializing at Nyota's side, a tradition after the events at Altamid two years ago. He then set to work calming the raging sea of thoughts and emotions within his mind.
Torrential rain continued to pour as the dark hours of the night slowly passed.
Loud, thunderous rumbling shook the cave, bringing him out of his meditative state. Thick sludge raced across the entrance, some of it oozing inside the cavern. Glancing at his fellow officer, he could see fear in Chekov's gaze as he stared at the encroaching mud. The rumbling slowly ceased and then only the falling rain poured across the cave opening. Chekov mumbled in Russian as his shoulders relaxed. Spock sloshed through the muck covering the front half of the cavern and carefully scanned as much of their surroundings as he could.
The results were disturbing.
In the seven hours since the storm began it had almost completely flooded the valley, forming a muddy lake that was slowly getting deeper. If the water continued to rise at the current rate then their shelter would begin flooding in twenty-three hours.
The Ensign's bag was gone, washed away in the mudslide. They only had their small canteens of water now. Chekov swore under his breath in his native tongue when informed of its lo
A few more scans and a small snack later (they were carefully rationing their lunches), they both returned to their respective activities. Chekov muttered in Russian as he tinkered with his devices, Spock silently gave the Ensign his communicator for additional parts.
He resumed his meditation.
Night eased into gloomy day and they ate a small meal, exchanging small pleasantries that neither felt.
Chekov tested the eighteenth configuration of the signal booster for his communicator without success, working through numerous frequencies. The ensign grumbled before setting to work once more. The problem was pushing a signal through the interference when their data on the anomaly was insufficient.
Spock examined the data on the anomaly but could find no answers. The tricorder was incapable of narrowing down the cause of the anomaly or how they might get a signal through it. With nothing to add, he allowed Chekov to work in peace.
The rain continued to fall, the filthy water slowly rose closer to the cave.
Spock examined the cliff face to the best of his ability, getting soaked in the process. Scans revealed a sheer wall of rock above them lacking hand or footholds and no other source of shelter in the immediate area. They were trapped with nowhere to go.
They needed to contact the Enterprise.
Their resources were limited. By the end of the day Chekov had tried fifty-six different signal enhancements. All failures.
The probability of them solving the communication problem with the equipment at their disposal was less than three percent. The storm was unrelenting. Unless the Enterprise found a way to contact them then it was looking more likely that they would die here.
Spock decided that he hated volcanoes.
The water had risen such that it was just over a meter below them. As the dim light of day faded into the black of night the pounding rain eased into a gentle staccato. The clouds thinned, stars shone through where they broke apart. An hour later even the light drizzle disappeared as the storm passed.
Yawning, Chekov rubbed his eyes as his shoulders hunched forward. He made another adjustment to the communicator. A moment later the Ensign's head drooped, eyes half closed.
"Mr. Chekov. It is requisite for humans to rest in order to function at optimal capacity. As Vulcans are capable of operating without respite for an extensive period of time, I will continue your work."
"Ah-," another yawn delayed the Ensign's response, "Aye, Commander." Chekov nearly collapsed to the ground, curling into a fetal position in an attempt to retain warmth as he lay upon the rocky cavern floor. He groaned and shifted, using his legs and elbows to maneuver his body onto smoother ground.
Spock worked quietly while Chekov slept. Putting the bulky, enhanced communicator back together with the frequency adjusted to hopefully break through the anomaly, Spock tried to raise the Enterprise again. Just like all previous attempts, there was no reply.
A scratching sound had Spock reexamining the cavern they were in. The scratching, scraping noise increased. He focused the light on one of the larger crevices near the back of the cavern. Shadows shifted as something moved inside the opening.
"Mr. Chekov."
A groan answered him as one of the ensign's eyes opened to look at him blearily.
"This cavern is not devoid of life."
The young man blinked, sitting up. Spock kept the light focused on the occupied crevice, where beady eyes reflecte the light. The unknown creature chittered before scuttling out.
A small, stocky quadruped animal with short gray hair rushed to exit the cavern, leaving a wide berth between its path and the two Starfleet officers. More followed from the same crevice, ranging from fifteen to twenty-five centimeters in length. Dozens of the creatures emerged from the crevice and exited the cavern, climbing up the rocky caldera rim.
Chekov had his tricorder out, scanning the rodents-like animals as they rushed by them.
A sharp, high pitched shriek cut through the air. The rodents outside the crevice froze momentarily before darting into the nearest unoccupied hole in the cavern walls. More rodents continued to rush out of the crevice, racing in panic for a hiding place.
More shrieks sounded from outside the cavern.
Spock dodge one rodent that raced at him. It squeaked before darting away. The cavern floor was nearly covered in the rodents now scurrying over each other in a panicked rush.
Dozens of brown flying lizard-like animals, approximately 40 centimeters from nose to tail, flew into the cave. They bore a striking similarity to Earth's depictions of dragons. Like western dragons they had webbed wings, a serpentine neck, four legs with clawed toes, bony protuberances along their spines and a lithe tail.
Glowing red eyes shone in the artificial light as they swooped over the fleeing rodents. Wings snapped closed and they fell one at a time on top of their prey. Sharp teeth and claws sank into soft flesh, within seconds the bitten rodents stilled.
As more flying lizards entered, they journeyed further into the cavern and closer to Spock and Chekov. Chekov was scanning the carnivores as he backed away from the encroaching horde and closer to Spock. Hundreds of them swarmed inside the cavern, enough to potentially overwhelm any defense they might utilize.
Pulling out his phaser in a relaxed grip, Spock analyzed the cavern carefully. The exit was full of the flying predators darting around each other as they sought their prey while others munched their catch on the cavern floor. Even if they could get past them safely and outside the cave, there was nowhere they could go. The valley was completely flooded and climbing the cliff (if they managed to scale the sheer rock above them in the dark) would leave them exposed to the flying predators. Chekov stood ready beside him, phaser in hand.
For now, their best chance was to avoid attracting attention and hope that they remain fixated on their native prey. The predators had yet to show any acknowledgement that they had even noticed the Starfleet officers in their midst.
"Commander! The little dragons are venomous-"
Spock gave Chekov a reproving look, stilling the excitable Ensign next to him. A couple dragons, for lack of a better term, eyed them curiously; Spock kept a wary eye on them. Chekov seemed to take the hint and slowly shifted to better watch the predators.
Something yipped sharply.
The dragons froze. Wings of those in flight spread to glide near-silently and the sound of crunching bones ceased. A pair of flying dragons collided. Wings battered frantically as they caught themselves midair.
Silence broken, the cave filled with yipping calls.
Dragons swooped down at them. Fast.
Chekov yelped.
The phaser beam struck scales and refracted into several smaller beams that dispersed harmlessly across the cavern. Startled, the dragons banked away from the energy beam. More yips, sharper and higher pitched, filled the air.
"Fascinating." Study of the composition and structure of the dragons' scales could revolutionize armor and shielding.
The dragons dove at them again. This time they completely ignored the phaser beams that sparked across the horde. Inhaling sharply, Spock prepared himself for physical engagement against overwhelming numbers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Chekov dive for the abandoned floodlight.
Spock twisted to the right, ducking and weaving through the attacking horde, utilizing his phaser as a blunt object. Rough scales smacked against the weapon and softer flesh gave under the force of the blow. Yipping in pain a dragon smashed into its fellows, taking two more out of the melee.
Sharp claws tore into his shoulder. Twisting sharply, he smacked the perpetrator away. Dodged another and grabbed it by its tail as it swooped by. Continuing his turn, he flung his hostage hard at a clump of incoming dragons.
Pain flared red hot through his thigh. His leg collapsed. Reflexes honed from years of training had him rolling, absorbing the impact even has his left leg proved dead weight. The heat spread, taking his strength with it.
Excruciatingly bright light blinded him. The floodlight. On maximum.
Distraught yips, distant and washed out, echoed around him.
Chekov. He needed protect Chekov. He tried to open his mouth, call out to the Ensign. His body refused to respond.
He could not move
His diaphragm quivered, pulled in a weak breath, then stilled.
Distantly, he heard Chekov screaming his name. The Ensign broke off midcry and then yelped in agony. More yips. Shouting, angry words in a foreign tongue. It took several seconds for Spock to realize it was Russian.
Everything was dark and a roaring drowned out his swearing comrade.
A finger twitched as his consciousness fled.
Awareness returned in waves of aching muscles and a dull throbbing in his skull. Both were ignored.
He was laying on his back across a hard surface full of protuberances. Something heavy compressed his abdomen, pinning him down.
It took effort to open his eyes and his success allowed bright light to assault his retinas before his inner eyelids closed. The rising sun shone directly into the cavern, directly into his eyes. Blinking blearily, Spock focused on his breathing as the fog around his mind slowly dissipated.
Transporter malfunction. Stranded. The attack. Chekov!
Spock sought out the Ensign. The cave floor was full of the small dragons, the closest were half a meter away. Some groups basked in the sun, nearly stacked on top of each other, while others fought in mock battles. A few raced over their fellows, inciting snappy yips from the sunbathers.
Boots caught his eye and he followed the legs back to the weight pinning him to the floor. Chekov lay across him, as though he had been sitting next to Spock and collapsed backwards over him.
Strength rushed into his limbs and Spock sat halfway up, careful not to disturb the Ensign's position as he checked for signs of life.
Chekov's chest rose and fell rhythmically with no indications of distress. Pulse was strong and steady. He appeared to be sleeping but the visible damage inflicted from the scuffle reminded Spock of his own unintended nap.
Yellow fabric wrinkled and pulled to the Ensign's far side. Concerned, Spock sat up further. There was a lump in the fabric and tiny claws poked through the shirt. The lump shifted again, pressing up into the Ensign's armpit.
There was a venomous dragon in Chekov's shirt.
Removing the dragon was risky. Too risky.
It could bite one or both of them in the extraction process. Spock had no desire to lose the ability to function, the ability to breath. He could still feel the burning pain in his thigh throbbing from the first bite. A second bite would most probably be fatal.
Leaving the dragon was also risky. It could bite Chekov without provocation.
Now would be a great time for the Enterprise to rescue them.
Spock pushed his way out from under Chekov and slowly lowered him onto the ground, dragon side up. An irritated clicking, possibly a warning, sounded from inside the Ensign's shirt.
A groan had Spock visually inspecting Chekov. Unfocused eyes cracked open and Chekov mumbled unintelligibly. He started to shift and Spock pushed him back down, holding him still as snippy clicks resumed.
"Keep still. A dragon is in your shirt."
Chekov blinked at him, brows furrowing in thought. The dragon shifted.
Eyes wide, Chekov bolted upright before Spock could stop him again. Yip-yowling, Chekov's shirt pulled tight as the dragon wriggled up onto his right shoulder as far as the taut fabric would allow. Chekov froze, wide eyes staring at Spock. His mouth dropped opened but no words were forthcoming.
The communicator chirped.
Chekov blinked, eyes dropping towards the bulky, reconstructed communicator on his belt. The horde of small dragons covering the cavern floor snapped to attention, eyes staring in their direction. Spock carefully retrieved the communicator while keeping a wary eye on the predators. Thus far they were only observing the Starfleet officers.
"Commander Spock, here."
"Spock! Is Chekov with you?" The captain's voice was jarringly loud. Some of the small dragons shifted away from them while others leaned closer.
"Chekov is present-"
"Good. We were worried, what with it taking so long to find you after dealing with the-"
"Captain, immediate transport to the Enterprise would be expedient." A few dragons looked ready to take flight, whether to attack or flee was unknown. "Have security and medical teams on standby."
"We cannae beam you up where you are. The transporter cannae lock onto your signal... looks like geological interference?"
Spock's brow rose as realization dawned, they were standing in a cave within the volcano's rim with several thousand tons of rock over them. They had both known that their shelter was not accessible by transporter when they first entered. He had forgotten, it was an unfamiliar feeling.
His close brush with death and the venom still flowing through his veins could be a cause for the memory lapse. McCoy would figure it out… once they were back on the Enterprise.
Chekov's left hand slowly rose, reaching for the communicator. Spock handed it over and watched as the Ensign awkwardly made an adjustment to the device, his right arm remained frozen at his side. Sweat was beaded on his brow and his hand shook minutely as he worked.
A moment later Chekov handed it back.
"That did it! Transporting now."
A transporter beacon, he had requested Chekov build one. A second memory lapse.
The light of the transporter beam enveloped them and then they were on the Enterprise. Security personnel stood ready near the platform, eyes searching futilely for the threat Spock implied that required their presence. A small medical team lead by McCoy stood ready right behind them. With no obvious immediate threat, McCoy was already striding past security - medical tricorder in hand.
Chekov gave a strangled squeak. The lump on his shoulder was shifting again.
Spock raised his arm, blocking McCoy's path to the distraught Ensign. "Doctor, may I advise caution until the threat is neutralized."
The security team perked up, Lieutenant Hendorff approached cautiously. "What to do you need, Commander?"
McCoy suddenly swore, inquiring on the origin of the protrusion upon the Ensign's shoulder. Chekov stiffened, eyes wide, as the lump squirmed. Jim chose that moment to race into the transporter room, shouting for a status report.
Chekov's breath hitched as the dragon thrashed and yipped, fanged teeth puncturing through the fabric as the animal gnawed on it. Everyone in the room was staring at Chekov's shoulder.
"We need to remove a venomous lifeform from the inside of Mr. Chekov's uniform." Spock felt an eyebrow raise as nearly everyone present gaped at them.
"Venomous?" Jim paled as he studied the lump, as though staring would allow him to see through the fabric to the creature underneath.
McCoy had his tricorder out and scanning the Ensign, focusing on his shoulder and the dragon hiding there while keeping as much distance between them as possible without jeopardizing the quality of the scans.
"It is a flying lizard-like animal, bearing a strong resemblance to the fictitious western dragon of Earth lore, though much smaller. The venom is paralytic. Analysis will be needed to determine the full range of its affects."
McCoy harrumphed as he examined the data on his medical tricorder. Whatever he was about to say was cut off as Jim spoke.
"Can't you just stun it? Wait, where're your phasers?"
Spock had not even noticed the missing equipment until Jim mentioned it. The lapses would need to be dealt with later. Right now, dealing with the dragon in Chekov's shirt was the priority.
"Negative, the scales are impervious to phaser beams."
"Okay. Let me get this straight. There is a venomous miniature dragon in Chekov's shirt that is basically invulnerable… and we need to get it out without provoking it. Anything else?"
Spock could think of nothing to add, his mind strangely blank. He raised a brow in response. Jim sighed and turned to Doctor McCoy.
"Bones. You've got scans of little Draco, what's the best way to get him out safely?"
"That might be a problem, Jim. From what I'm seeing, I'm not sure there is a way to-"
"Ai yi." Chekov squirmed as the dragon changed position, wriggling inside his shirt until it settled against his collar. A series of irritated clicking stilled the Ensign. He appeared to be on the brink of panic even as he stood statuesque.
Several seconds of silence passed while everyone watched the lump warily. Tense, Jim whispered his next inquiry, "Bones, just how potent is its venom?"
The doctor scowled. "Not lethal, probably, since the kid's vitals are okay and he's been bit a few times." That was surprising, Vulcans are typically more resistant to toxins than humans. "But Chekov's blood is already full of it, I don't want him getting bit again. No telling what effect that much venom might have. I'm already going to need a full blood workup and a venom sample just to make sure the kid will be alright. And to make matters worse, I think we're dealing with a sick mini-dragon, it could be contagious. I just don't know at this point, I'd need to do a full medical workup in the med-bay. Which is complicated by there being a temperamental, venomous, mini dragon hiding inside Chekov's shirt."
"Perhaps, Doctor, though the animal may be ill it would not be remiss to explore further options to draw the creature out of the shirt in a nonaggressive manner. The dragon is carnivorous in nature. We observed several of the creatures killing and consuming small rodents."
Chekov grimaced. Slowly inhaled and then carefully whispered, "Copper based blood rodents."
"What?"
Chekov flinched as the dragon yipped and bit his shirt. A slow breath and then his eyes focused on Jim. "The rodents had green blood… and the…dragons… gagged after biting me." The softly spoken statement had Spock reevaluating the situation, although the fact that human flesh was repulsive was likely the reason the small dragon had refrained from biting the Ensign when expressing agitation.
"Ah, well. No red meat, then. Ensign Garcia, head down to the mess and pick out an assortment of smelly foods. Fish… candy – definitely some candy, wild animals will break into tents for candy… and whatever else you think could smell good to a dragon that likes green blooded meat." Ensign Garcia nearly ran out of the room to fulfil his task.
As they waited for the Garcia to return McCoy began checking Spock's vitals with his tricorder.
"Spock, your vitals are all over the place. We need to get you down to the med-bay right now, you're in worse shape than Chekov."
At McCoy's insistence, nurse Chapel began ushering Spock down to the med-bay to get looked at by Doctor M'Benga while McCoy stayed behind with Chekov. McCoy had called Medical to inform M'Benga that Spock needed his Vulcan expertise and was heading down to the med-bay to meet him.
As Spock was leaving, Jim looked torn between staying with Chekov or following him.
"I am perfectly capable of walking down to the Medical Bay without your assistance, Jim." He already had a nurse assigned by McCoy to escort him. "I trust that you will not unduly endanger yourself while extracting the venomous dragon from Chekov's uniform."
"I'll do my best to stay away from its teeth. I'll be down to see you once we've got it contained." One eyebrow rose at his captain's promise. Turning, Spock headed down to the med-bay.
Approaching the doors to the medical facility, Spock blinked as black spots formed in his peripheral vision. A moment later everything went dark.
Spock woke up on a biobed in the med-bay with McCoy studying the display over his head. "Spock, you're finally awake."
"How long was I out?"
"Three and a half days. You had everyone worried."
A meditative breath helped clear the fog from his mental processes. Sitting up, Spock discovered the medical bay to be devoid of other patients. "How is Ensign Chekov?"
"Fine. Much better than you. You're lucky, you know. One bite almost killed you. If you were fully Vulcan you would have died in seconds. A second dose of venom would have been fatal. And it's a miracle you only got bit once. From what Chekov reported, it was the two of you against hundreds of baby dragons."
Spock lifted one brow. "It is impossible to say the exact number of the dragons we encountered, however, hundreds were likely present given their diminutive size and the volume of space they filled."
"Bunch of trouble magnets, the lot of you." McCoy scowled at him briefly. "One bite, just one bite had you on death's door. If you weren't part human you would . It's the only thing that kept you alive long enough for us to synthesize an antivenom. Do you have any idea what your death would have done to Jim? To the crew? Or Chekov?"
"This is not the first time my life was in jeopardy."
"I know, but you've made it a habit. It was close this time, too close. You need to be more careful." McCoy was glaring at him.
"And what should I have done differently? When Chekov and I were stranded on unfamiliar terrain and cut off from the Enterprise?"
McCoy seemed to deflate, anger fading from his features into a resigned expression. Spock decided to change the topic.
"What happened to the dragon?"
"Chekov's dragon? They've got it down in the xenobiology lab. It's still sick but we're trying to find a way to save it. Jim's determined to make him the Enterprise's mascot. He's looking through all the protocol manuals regarding animals on starships. Problem is, it's not harmless - that's clearly against regulations. Not that Jim will listen to reason, seems to think I should just perform venomoid surgery on the animal. Doesn't listen to me when I tell him I'm a doctor - not a veterinarian."
McCoy's arms waved in emphasis as a ranted, hardly pausing for breath. "Of course, that's presuming it survives. It barely eats anything – they've been giving it bits of fish stuffed with supplements... and it can't regulate its body temperature – so they've got a heat lamp keeping it warm. That's probably why it crawled into Chekov's shirt in the first place, it was trying to get warm." McCoy smirked in thought… a smirk that turned into a wide grin.
Eyebrows raised, Spock studied the doctor. McCoy huffed, amusement lighting up his eyes. "Come on, Spock. Don't you want to know the funny part of all this?"
"Hardly, Doctor. The fact that the Captain desires to retain an animal that is lethal to my race is far from amusing."
"Well, no. I don't think we should keep the little guy either. That's not the funny part."
"Then enlighten me. What about this situation is amusing?"
"So, turns out that the little dragon spent enough time on Chekov that it associates his scent with safety. Course, there were a few mishaps before anyone realized it. It got out the first day and found Chekov on the bridge. Darted into his shirt before anyone realized it was even there. It was a mess extracting it the second time, it had wised up to the Captain's candy trick. And when they finally did get it out it was completely panicked. The only way to keep the little guy from completely stressing out was to let it have one of Chekov's sweaty shirts. You should have seen the look on his face when Dr. Landon demanded he hand one over to them while still on the bridge. He looked absolutely horrified and embarrassed all at once." A reminiscent smirk formed on the doctor's face. "I didn't think it would work. The little dragon was throwing itself against the enclosure and crying in distress. But the moment they tossed Chekov's shirt in, he burrowed into it and only comes out for meals now."
"Intriguing. Have they done any research into the social interactions of its species?"
"Not as much as they'd like. The locals only let us stay long enough to find and retrieve all the members of the away team. The scientists have been grilling Chekov regarding what he observed while on planet." McCoy was focused on one of the displays on the monitor.
"What locals are you referring to? All of the data gathered on the planet indicated there was no intelligent life forms." McCoy scowled at Spock.
"Yeah, well… our information was wrong and the scanners were foiled by their holographic shield-cloak thing. They're the ones that scrambled your transport to the planet. Thought we'd lost all of you when all contact was lost and we couldn't pick up any biosigns. Course, Jim managed to find the locals and convinced them to let everyone return to the Enterprise. Then we had to find you all, seeing as they'd scattered you across the planet. You and Chekov were near all the way on the other side of it, took us a while to find you."
He would need to speak with Jim regarding the exact events that transpired planet-side.
But he could do that later... Lt. Uhura had just entered the med-bay. He could use a distraction from the events that transpired and his own near death. As she approached, her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face.
He almost smiled back.
A/N: This was written due to a weird mood I was in while taking medicine for my cold. Pro - I actually wrote something, Con - it wasn't written very well. I fixed what I could.
Edited/Rewritten June 2017
In case you are unaware and wondered at some terminology…
*Dihydrogen monoxide is the chemical name for water.
*Igneous rocks are formed from cooled magma (there are different names for igneous rocks depending on the composition, but this is taking place on an alien planet so I decided not to get that specific… I'm too lazy to work out how similar or not this planet's magma is to earth's magma).
*Grain size in an igneous rock depends on how quickly the magma cooled; fine grained igneous rocks are typically formed when the magma cools quickly due to volcanic eruptions.