Rudimentary and Sedimentary
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Bones tripped.
And cursed. But only in his head. Spock was standing over him, and it would be undignified to do so in front of the Vulcan (not to mention, it would give Spock the chance to raise that bloody eyebrow of his).
The landing party had beamed down hours earlier, and had conveniently decided to split up on this sandy, sunny and sterile planet. Scans from the ship had shown nothing to be down here, and Bones couldn't fathom why they'd had to prove it themselves.
A hand appeared in front of McCoy's face, and he stared at it for a moment, before following the arm to the shoulder, and to Spock's emotionless face. Bones scowled as that lovely eyebrow rose the tiniest increment. Still frowning, Bones took the hand and felt as he was lifted off the scorching sand.
"Thank you," he said shortly.
"You appeared to be of no mind to get up yourself, so I thought you might appreciate assistance." Spock was a courteous Vulcan, of that no one could dispute – but that didn't mean Bones had to like it.
"I was merely examining the composition of the sand," McCoy winced internally at the flimsy excuse.
Spock bowed his head, "We have already discerned that the sand is made of several different sedimentary rocks and salt crystals. There is nothing that would be of medical value, Doctor."
The words may be polite, but that darn tone of his, Bones bristled. He turned away from Spock, "Let's continue walking, so we can get back to the beaming site as soon as possible." That way I can get rid of you.
"As you wish." Oh, can it, you fairy-eared Devil! Bones kicked the sand in frustration, and toppled over again when he lost his balance. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes against the harsh glare of the overhead sun was Spock's eternally climbing eyebrow.
Damn that sand!!