OK I don't own Star Trek except in my wildest fantasies where I'm queen the entire universe. This is a work of fiction for entertainment.
Cerise Jones scanned her hair and makeup in the mirror of the small staff fresher in Sickbay. Scrutinizing her profile in the reflection she gave herself a satisfied smile. The Deltan bra had cost her almost a month's pay but it was worth every credit.
"Lieutenant Jones," It was Dr. Chapel's cool voice calling from the examination room. Damn the old witch is flying today!
"Yes Doctor," Jones replied dutifully as she took a quick swipe at an out of place auburn curl.
"Commander Spock is on his way down from the bridge. I need for you to get the files from the probe up on the viewscreen."
Really, she can't put the stupid files on the viewscreen herself? The lieutenant let out an exasperated sigh. Just hold on Cerise, she reassured herself, a few days more here in sickbay and you'll be the assistant to the Science Officer and Chapel and that old country bumpkin can find themselves another lackey to do their bidding.
"That pointy eared hobgoblin is coming back down here again?" Leonard McCoy bellowed from his private office. "That's the third time today. Since when does bridge crew spend half their shift in sickbay?"
"It's only the second time," Chapel returned leaning inside the CMO's door. "He brought the samples in when the probe returned at oh nine thirty hours and he's coming back to review the test results."
"I don't care; he's always down here on some pretext." McCoy protested as he pushed past her into the examination room. "What's going on with him? Do you think it's some post V'ger thing?"
Chapel shook her head and sighed. "Jones! Have you got those files loaded?"
Cerise gave her lipstick a quick touch up and returned to loading the data into the terminal for the main viewscreen. She'd been anxiously anticipating the First Officer's return since this morning. There was no denying this thing that was growing between the two of them. Even McCoy, the oblivious old hick, had noticed that since she'd been transferred to Sickbay the tall dark Vulcan's visits were becoming more frequent.
"Jones!" Chapel called again, making no effort to mask the irritation in her voice.
"Ready Doctor." Cerise answered curtly. The First Officer's interest in her apparently hadn't gone unnoticed by Chapel who seemed to be perpetually on her case. From what Cerise had been able to harvest from the Enterprise rumor mill, during the first mission, then Nurse Chapel had been madly in love with Commander Spock, but the Vulcan didn't reciprocate her interest. Sure, Chapel pretended that was all water under the bridge, acting cool and professional whenever Spock was in Sickbay; but she'd seen that fleeting look of longing when Chapel thought no one was looking.
If Cerise had learned one thing her twenty five years, it was that quiet longing never got anyone anything worth having. The important things in life went to those with the guts and drive to go after what they wanted and didn't take "no" for an answer. She had wanted the exotically handsome First Officer from the first moment she'd seen him walking through the mess hall, aloof and unobtainable like some ancient Vulcan god.
Jones stole a quick glance at Chapel who seemed engrossed in the chartpadd she'd been reviewing. The young lieutenant wondered how the dark haired doctor would react if she knew that Cerise and Spock had shared dinner together last night in his quarters, or that after complimenting her on her research skills he'd reassigned Christine's evening lab shifts to Cerise.
Cerise's gleeful reverie was interrupted as the Vulcan First Officer entered sickbay.
"Dr. Chapel," he nodded formally as Christine rose from the desk.
"Commander," she returned powering down the chartpadd. "I'm afraid that the results of the tests were as you had suspected. It appears that Romulans have been on the planet recently."
"How recently?"
"There is insufficient data to determine how recently or how extensively they've explored this planet. We'll need to send the survey team down to run more comprehensive scans."
"Lieutenant," Spock nodded and Cerise responded with a coy smile and a softly whispered "sir" being careful to make sure that Chapel wasn't looking.
"I will require you for the landing party."
Christine frowned and her eyes narrowed. "There are already twelve assigned to the landing party; we don't have proper equipment for any additions."
"Lieutenant Jones won't be an addition Doctor," he responded, his voice neutral, "She will be replacing you."
"Replacing me? You can't do that!" Chapel protested making no effort to soften the anger in her voice.
"Quite the contrary Doctor, as First Officer it falls within my purview to assign personnel to landing parties."
"Lieutenant Jones is not experienced in the protocols of serving on a landing party, and there will be a considerable element of risk on this particular expedition. Commander, I fail to see the…" she crossed her arms across her chest, a look of defiance in her sapphire eyes, "logic…of replacing me on this landing party."
Ah, so the old cat has a little fight in her yet. Jones mused.
"I shall not entertain any discussion of this matter, the decision is made. Lieutenant Jones, you will report to Transporter room three at nineteen hundred hours for landing party duty."
Spock nodded tightly at each of the women, his face the impassive Vulcan mask of authority, then he turned leaving sickbay without further comment leaving two stunned women in his wake.
Cerise and Christine stood in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Chapel picked up a heavy mug emblazoned with the Starfleet Medical logo and filled it with coffee. She took a long drink, and then a deep breath before fixing Cerise with an icy glare.
"You are excused from the remainder of your shift, Lieutenant. You should use the time to study the procedures and protocols for a level red landing party."
Before Jones could answer, Chapel stormed into her office the door swooshing softly behind her. Cerise heard the sharp click as the privacy lock engaged followed by the unmistakable sound of a Starfleet coffee mug shattering against the office wall.