Hello all! Wow…the new movie is amazing. I have been a die-hard Trekker for some time, and was greatly impressed by the new movie. This is only the second time that I have written for the TOS characters, now considered the 2009 characters, (same characters, really, for those who don't know Trek, just different realities). For further reference, I may or may not include characters from TOS (The Original Series) or TAS (The Animated Series) in these, such as Nurse Chapel, Lt. Arex, or Lt. M'ress. If you're not sure who they are, I would suggest going to and looking them up, though it isn't necessary. Now…ON WITH THE FICS!

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.

So I bring you...

A String of Emergencies

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Items typically banned from starships include unauthorized personal weapons, unauthorized explosives, animals that may cause harm to fellow crewmembers, and Romulan Ale. Items that fall under any of these categories were generally covered in detail at the Academy, and again when an officer is assigned to a ship. No items described as any of these could be found aboard the Enterprise, yet somehow, people where getting hurt. Not just your typical, every day, run-of-the-mill hurt, but odd, off-the-wall injuries.

Ensign Bright, a smart young officer from engineering, sat on a biobed, nursing her bruised cheekbone.

"Care to explain that?" Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy asked, running a medical tricorder over the area.

"I'd really rather not." The green-eyed girl replied, refusing to meet his gaze.

"You certainly don't seem the type to start a mess hall brawl," He said absently, checking the readings. No fracture, which was somewhat surprising considering the other damage that had been inflicted on the area. A large, purplish splotch had come to cover the area from temple to the bridge of her nose, and a large, black circle was forming under her eye. "Everything seems to be alright. Take some of this," he handed her a small container of pills, "to reduce the swelling. Just don't go walking into any walls or falling face first to the floor."

"Thanks, sir. I'll try not to hurt it more." The young woman hopped off of the bed, and left with nothing more than a quick smile.

The doctor shook his head, staring at the sickbay doors with a furrowed brow. Dropping the incident, he shrugged and turned to a small monitor on one wall, making a quick entry of the girl's readings. He disappeared into his office, reorganizing the computer's medical files more to his liking.

A few hours later, the sickbay doors swished open. He assumed it must be Nurse Christine Chapel reporting for her shift. He glanced at the chronometer in the lower corner of the computer screen, only 1423 hours; her shift didn't start until 1600. He peered around the wall to see another young officer from engineering, judging by the uniform, gingerly cradling his right hand as a slow trickle of blood seeped from his lower lip.

"Now what?" Bones rushed over to the younger man, grabbing a small cloth off of the counter and shoving it at the other officer to dab the blood from his lip. His good hand now otherwise occupied, the injured appendage was free for Bones to examine. The last two knuckles were swelling quickly, and he seemed unable to move those fingers. "Brilliant, ensign, just brilliant. What did you do to it?"

The officer glanced away quickly. "I…hit it."

"With what, a freighter?" Bones rubbed his thumb lightly over the injury and the younger man winced. "Well?"

When he didn't respond, the doctor grumbled under his breath and grabbed at his tray of medical equipment. The matter quickly taken care of, he sent the officer on his way with some pain medication and a stern warning.

Happenings like these filtered in and out of sickbay over the course of the next several days, steadily becoming more and more frequent, and with frequency came severity.

Bones pulled up the shirt of a science officer to reveal an oddly shaped bruise forming on his abdomen, the two parallel pieces of it neatly straddling the cracked rib beneath.

He could see a definite pattern forming with these injuries…most of the bruises were similar to this one, and the injury was often from a blow of concentrated force, like one strong punch. Injuries were often small, but severe enough to warrant medical treatment, and accompanying injuries were in the same region. Generally speaking, if the upper half were hurt, the lower half wouldn't be. The most unusual thing about this string of occurrences was that NO ONE would state what it was that hurt them.

He made quick work of the wound with the bone-kitting laser, then turned to another bed where a communications officer sat with a busted kneecap. Having already pulled up his black slacks, the blood pooling at the base of the knee was clearly visible. Quickly scanning the officer with his tricorder, he made a few entries and passed it off to Nurse Chapel as he moved two beds over to tend to a severe friction burn that nearly severed a fingertip.

Throughout sickbay, monitors beeped and spat readings, and the patients groaned and refused to meet his eye. If the injuries were not so bizarre, he would have sworn that they had started some sort of secret fight club.

"What happened to you?" He asked the lieutenant. No response. He'd come to expect that. He grabbed an autosuture and put it in place before whirling around to see his newest guest. A female officer was hurriedly escorting another male crewmember through the sliding doors, his hands covering his mouth and dripping blood.

He shoved the man onto the closest available biobed and had to forcibly pull the man's hands away. "Good God, man!" He stared in surprised horror at the man's palm and the tooth that sat in it. He switched his glare to the man's face, hoping for some explanation, but received none. He looked at the woman. She looked at her companion. He looked at the floor. She looked across the room. Bones rolled his eyes.

"Lieutenant!" He barked. Nurse Chapel, having just finished with the ensign with the bad knee, trotted over to tend to the missing tooth. Bones absently wiped the blood on his smock, and checked a nearby monitor for feedback on patients ready to leave.

Several hours later, he trudged into the mess hall and placed his order. "Coffee, blacker than black and hotter than Hell." The food synthesizer whirred, and he pulled a steaming hot mug from it and dropped himself into a chair at a table in one corner. Despite self-medication, his head still throbbed and he ached from the day's work. He rested his face in his free hand, and grimaced inwardly as he realized he'd forgotten to shave for the past two days; not exactly protocol for a Starfleet officer. His ears seemed to scream as a familiar voice started talking across from him.

"Bones," the captain wore his typical cocky smile, eased back in his chair as if he hadn't a care in the world. It sickened the doctor. As much as he and the captain were friends, he really didn't want to be within twenty feet of another humanoid right now. All he wanted was silence and his coffee. "How are things in Sickbay?"

The doctor's grip tightened around the handle of the mug, his knuckles turning white. He lifted his face up to stare daggers at the younger man, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath.

"Whoa," The captain's expression changed to one less arrogant, knowing that the attitude would not be appreciated here. "Something I should know about?" He leaned forward, a tightened frown where the smirk had previously been.

"I've treated nearly a third of the crew in the past three days for injuries that only they know how they received." He glared across the table, out a window on the far side. He took a long swig from his coffee before slamming it to the table with much more force than necessary. "Dammit, Jim! I'm I doctor, not a detective! How am I supposed to know how to properly treat them when I don't know what they did to themselves in the first place?!" He sighed and slumped forward in his seat. "Sorry, Jim." He shook his head slowly.

"Hey, take it easy, okay?" The young captain rose to his feet and lightly slapped his friend's shoulder. "I'm sure things will let up. People can only get hurt so many times in a seventy-two hour period."

"Yeah, you would know." The doctor mumbled.

"Well, at least they seem to still be able to perform their duties. If I figure anything out, I'll drop in." He turned to leave, stopping only once more. "If you need anything just let me know." Kirk flashed another smile and was out the door in an instant.

Bones watched him go and slowly shifted his gaze around the room. A small group was clustered around a certain Russian teenager, entranced with some sort of toy he was playing with. It appeared to be a primitive, round device on the end of a string. He briefly wondered what it was, but dismissed it and stood, ready to turn in for the night.

The next morning rolled around with more of the same sorts of injuries that had now started to become part of the every-day routine. Bones treated them, they thanked him, and they left, without ever saying a word as to what the cause of their mishap was.

He leaned against a biobed during a lull in what would ordinarily be organized chaos, rubbing the bridge of his nose and thankful for the slight reprieve. Having barely had time to restore his breathing to normal, he was forced to whirl around as yet another soon-to-be patient dove through the doors. This patient, though, was the last person he expected to see involved in this trend.

He was hunched forward, his face buried in his hands. Green blood streamed from under them and ran down, staining his blue sleeves. His jet-black hair was disheveled, and he shook his head in an effort to clear his still-foggy mind.

"Spock, I am SO sorry," Uhura jogged beside the half-Vulcan, her hands outstretched as if wanting to help, but he was too fast, staying at least one stride ahead of her.

"Nyota, now is not the time for apologies; now is the time for medical attention." His voice held a strange sense of urgency and was decidedly more nasal than usual.

The doctor grabbed at a cloth to contain the bleeding, guiding the commander to an empty biobed. The science officer coughed and spat blood that had run down his throat, leaning over a sink-like fixture a few feet away. Moments later, Kirk appeared through the doors, followed by Chekov of all people. Bones pushed the injured crewman to the bed, firmly grabbing the man's chin to keep him still. The bleeding finally under control, he reached for the bone-kitting laser, setting to work on Spock's nose. Between Uhura's repeated apologies, Spock's protests and Kirk's questions, McCoy could barely hear himself think.

"Alright! Alright! Quiet!" He shouted over the din. Within seconds the room was silent, save for the occasional beep of a monitor and the hum of the engines in the background. "How did this happen?"

Uhura was the first to speak. "I was trying a new trick, and it came off of the string--"

"Wait, what came off?" Bones looked questioningly at her, who in turn looked to the teen Ops ensign. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a toy similar to the one he had been playing with in the mess hall the night before. Suddenly everything seemed to click. The shape matched the bruises perfectly, the two halves of this thing forming the split shape of the painful marks that marred a good chunk of the crew. If the device were on a string, that would explain why injuries were often limited to only certain areas of the body, the parts that the thing would be able to reach. Simple physics explained the force the object was capable of. The fact that this thing was a TOY said why nobody was willing to tell what they had gotten so severely injured with. No one in their right mind would admit to getting a broken rib from a child's plaything. "What is this thing?"

"A Yo-yo, sir. My great great great great great great grandfather was a world-wide Yo-yo champion on Earth; I have been practicing some of the tricks in my spare time. Others liked it, and built their own, so that they could try." The teen replied.

Bones looked over at the captain, his expression grave. "You have to ban it, Jim."

"What? The crew seems to like them; they were all having a great time--"

"These things have to go. It was bad enough when those playing with them were getting hurt, but now, innocent bystanders are getting injured! Jim, Yo-yos have got to go!" He slammed a fist in the biobed next to Spock, who stifled a moan in response.

The captain seemed to consider this. "Sorry Chekov, but he's right. You'll have to limit Yo-yo time to shore leave."

The ensign deflated a bit at this, but shrugged and pocketed the toy.

Soon after, the list of items banned from the starship Enterprise was revised to include unauthorized personal weapons, unauthorized explosives, animals that may cause harm to fellow crewmembers, Romulan Ale, and Yo-yos.

FIN

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Heehee!!! I love this story. This was so much fun to write! And thanks to Kippling Croft for helping me come up with the ideas for these things. Thanks KC!

Anyhow, R&R, you know I love getting them. ;) Please, stick around for more!