Treadmill Blues
Prologue
Final Notice before Official Communiqué to Starfleet Command
To: Captain James T. Kirk
From: Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy
Captain:
It has been almost a year since you took command of the Enterprise. In that time, we have had countless encounters with new species; both on the ground and aboard ship. During some of the those encounters; many, in fact, you have been beaten, drugged, possessed, tortured, bound, gagged, had broken bones, ruptured organs, skin maladies, time displacement, transporter malfunctions, and the list goes on. Oh yes, let's not forget the retinue of venereal diseases you have managed to contract.
In my two previous contacts, I have laid out how some of these incidents have had lasting effects on you, both physically and emotionally. I have asked that you report to sickbay, quarterly, for an examination and check up. My pleas have fallen on deaf ears (a side effect mentioned in my previous messages). If you are not willing, or are unable to comply with my OFFICIAL request, I will be forced - with no small amount of giddy school boy pleasure - to relieve you of duty, as is my sworn obligation.
There is no reason (given that reason is something you still currently possess) that you should not come directly to sickbay for the aforementioned exam. If this FINAL NOTICE is not met with your personal appearance in my office within 24 hours, I will have Lt. Uhura send my assessment to Starfleet Command. And, don't think I won't include Admiral Pike.
Kind Regards,
Dr. Leonard McCoy
Jim Kirk leaned back from the monitor and blew out a long whistle. Bones was beyond pissed. This notice was down right belligerent. Kirk had a thought to reply and the let the doctor contact Starfleet. By some insane cosmic irony, they might just question his competency for not being able to control his commanding officer. Nah. But it was a nice fantasy.
Propping his feet up on his ready room desk, Kirk made popping noises by flicking his inflated cheek with an index finger. What was he going to do? He hated sickbay more than any other place on the ship. Granted, he seemed to visit the antiseptic cave only slightly less often than the bridge, his quarters, and the rec room. Bones was supposed to be his friend. If the good doctor could solve the problems and heal the injuries as they presented, what was the point of regular checkups or fitness exams? They were a waste of time and would only serve to confirm what he already knew: he was in perfect health.
In fact, what the Kirk could really use was a day off; not more strenuous activity. Plus, he had and allergic reaction to the adhesive used on the electrodes Bones applied during the last exam. 'No problem,' he had said. 'I have a hypo for that.' Kirk was aware that Bones donned a devilish grin every time he gave Kirk a hypo. He enjoyed it way too much. But, none the less, he may have to comply with his friend's request. Though he had made contact with many new species and solved more than a few intergalactic disputes, he was still a rookie Captain, and no more than a child in the eyes of some at Starfleet Command. So, in the interest of diplomacy, he would go see Bones and get the damned thing over with.
Not fifteen minutes later, Kirk unceremoniously entered sickbay. With no shortage of command swagger, he plopped down in the chair opposite his CFO's desk.
"Here I am, Bones," he declared. "Do your worst."