A/N: guest reviewer, there's not a solid plot as of yet, but here's what I have. I am SO OPEN to suggestions
He liked these new uniforms better. McCoy had just traded in his plunging neckline for the most sensible turtleneck in the galaxy. And according to the new uniform regulations, he could wear it under his medical jumpsuit as well. Finally.
So the Enterprise had been refitted. He didn't really care or get up in arms about it like Scotty did. It was bigger, nicer, and it had better quarters for the officers. Scotty couldn't complain about all the new space in the conjoining bathroom- there was more than enough room for a sizeable liquor closet.
McCoy was relishing his privacy and his new uniform. Whatever they made them out of, it was soft. He ran his hands down the sleeves one more time before pulling on the jumpsuit. Oh, the jackets were alright, but medical certainly didn't draw the short straw this time. All the nurses had a distinct uniform, harkening back to the days of old with white aprons and labcoats. More than just aesthetics- this stuff was comfortable.
He felt dressed to the nines as he stepped out of his quarters. But the halls were full. Crisp, new uniforms paraded around at every turn, brightened up the turbolifts, and made Sickbay look every bit the well-oiled machine it was.
"Morning, Doctor." He and Chapel said about in unison. It had become a bit of a habit since she'd become Assistant CMO. But it was plain chaos when M'Benga visited from Vulcan- 'doctor' hardly seemed like a real word at the end of that week. Other than that, they all got along splendidly. Really, everything about the Enterprise seemed better than it ever was.
His office had a lot of glass, transparent aluminum, or whatever the clear stuff they stuck up instead of walls was. There was no napping on duty in this box, no siree. He sat down behind the desk and started pouring over last night's report. All but one case of Cytherian Flu had cleared up, and Lieutenant Commander Leslie was feeling well enough to try the alternate set of vaccines. So, no news.
Chapel was walking this way. McCoy stuck his head out the door and called after her. "Anything interesting happen 'fore I got here?"
Chapel rolled her eyes and turned back around to face her boss. "Eddie Leslie started projectile sneezing again, but it's slowed down. You ought to ask the Head Nurse."
"Sorry." McCoy grinned. "Force of habit."
"You say that every morning." Chapel turned on her heel and walked off. She had bigger fish to fry than one bored CMO. Knowing this ship, work would turn up.
McCoy dropped back into his chair and swiveled back and forth. He surveyed the Sickbay like a nervous factory manager. Everything seemed too quiet. Nurses came and went on their own assignments; a lab tech or two would appear, but no patients. No injured.
But he ought to relax, shouldn't he? This was the flagship, and arguably the most famous vessel in the Federation. She'd proved herself in battle with both firepower and maneuverability. What did he have to worry about?
"Kirk to Sickbay."
That, for one thing.
McCoy pounced on the comm before it had the chance to click off. "Sickbay here. Jim what's wrong?"
There was laughter on the other end. The nerve. "Nothing's wrong, Bones, just calling to check your status and remind you about the diplomatic envoy."
Like he could forget. In about three days time, they were scheduled to pick up a whole mess of ambassadors and deliver them to a trade conference hosted by the Canopian Alliance. It was a smaller power, but the Canopians had such a wide variety of vegetable and grain species, that all corners of the quadrant were enticed to attend.
"I've already set up the tank for the Marecinian delegation, so-"
"Bones, there's an ion storm moving towards the Alliance border. We're jumping to Warp 8 so we can pick them up today."
McCoy about fell out of his seat. "Today? Jim you're joking!" They hadn't even started pumping the water into the cargo bay, let alone pressurizing the quarters on Deck Four. And they had to give the starbase the room coordinates…
"Bones? Bones are you still there?"
"Yes Jim." He snapped, "But if I have an aneurism, I'm holding you personally responsible. Do you know how many things we're behind on now?"
McCoy could hear the sigh over the connection. "Blame the ion storm, Bones. I can distribute maintenance personnel wherever you need them."
"Redistribute all of Operations, why don't you! Now if you don't mind Captain sir, I don't have time to hang around chitchatting! McCoy out."
He jammed his fist down on the comm button and scurried out from behind his desk.
"Doctor Chapel! The powers that be have decided to upend our department. All the deadlines have been moved up to tonight. If you don't mind supervising the pressurization operations, I'll go handle the hullabaloo with the cargo bay."
Chapel's face remained an impassive mask of professionalism, but her eyes betrayed the irritation McCoy knew to be lurking just beneath the surface. Since she'd become a doctor, Chapel had a whole different air about her. It was like she'd finally found herself, the place she belonged and wanted to be. In a way, they all had. Coming back together was the best thing that could've happened to them. This crew was family.
"If this is Kirk's fault, I'm wringing his neck." Chapel promised.
"Unfortunately for the both of us, it's an ion storm responsible this time around. But I'm sure you'll get your chance one of these days." Chapel hurried off in a huff. McCoy shook his head at the insanity of it all on got right down to work.
The Berellians wanted a lot of conductive goo, that was a given. McCoy was sending the first team of Jim's reassigned operations folks to the cargo bay, but the second group was on 'hospitality'. All the guest quarters would have to be up to snuff before the diplomats ever arrived. The 'goo' team was sent to replicate whole vats of the stuff while another team took more of a divide and conquer approach. Teams of 2 were sent out to Decks 2 and 6 to ready the guest quarters there.
McCoy concentrated his morning efforts on the Sickbay. He made sure his nurses had the guest dossiers and sent them to synthesize painkillers for each type of alien biology about to embark on the Journey to Canopis Station.
More than anything else, however, they needed feet on the ground. McCoy finished handing out assignments before rolling up his sleeves and jumping right in the middle of it. He headed down to the cargo bay where steady hands were in short supply at the moment.
Scotty was directing traffic. He knew better than anyone the scale of the undertaking, so it was the most sensible place for him to be. McCoy stepped out of the turbolift and had to wait for the passing of a great big hose. Two crewmen waved, but the other seven kept both hands around the massive bunch of rubber. Once they'd cleared, the Doctor continued into the cargo bay.
"Scotty! How's the miracle workin'?"
The Chief Engineer was about as excited for the new schedule as everyone else. Montgomery Scott met McCoy with a fine scowl. "It'll be a miracle if we get the thing finished, Doctor!" He gestured to the tank being constructed in the middle of the floor. There was another, smaller, one already constructed for temporary use if need be, but the behemoth before them was far from finished.
"I'll say." McCoy sighed. "Too bad about that ion storm. But, I know what Jim's thinking and it's for the best. Lord knows we don't want to do that again."
"Aye. I reckon the Captain's made the only decision he could." It still didn't mean they had to like it. "The lads are goin' as fast as they can, but it'll be close."
McCoy watched as the engineers hoisted each other up on cables and anti-grav scaffolds. And on top of all that, they had to fill the blasted thing with water. "Where do you need me? I can help out anywhere they need an extra set of hands."
Scotty gave him a look that ruled out any construction-based activity. McCoy vowed to be offended later, if they were less pressed for time.
"Y'know, none of the lads can take the time to set the chemical regulator for the tank…"
"…And I just happen to have the medical know-how to make sure the Marecinians don't end up in a vat of salt?"
"Aye," Scotty chuckled, "That about sums it up. Pressure controls are that way, regulator's on the second level." He pointed and clapped a hand on McCoy's back. "Good to have you on the team."
McCoy rolled his eyes and made his way toward the ladder. "Don't get used to it!"
He flagged down another engineer and had her point the way towards that pesky regulator. Truth be told, it was not a hard thing to find, now that he knew what it looked like. The regulator was this massive hunk of metal wired in a dozen places to one of the computer terminals. Something told him this wasn't going to be an easy job.
McCoy pushed his sleeves back up and started fussing with the main panel. Some fool had set it to pump out clear freshwater, 100% pure H2O. Pulling up a settings menu took a few tries, considering the regulator looked like it had been made for freshwater, and McCoy realized this was really going to be a project.
He circled around to the side and pried off the plate labeled 'chemicals'. Boy howdy. Inside, he ought to find the sample canisters containing the various vitamins and minerals needing to be replicated. Instead, he found a mess.
"Confound this ancient machinery." McCoy declared, heedless of volume or eavesdroppers. He was going to have to make a decision he knew he'd regret. Temporarily abandoning his post, the Doctor trudged to the nearest storage closet and traded out his lovely white jumpsuit for some engineering coveralls.
Now it was time to tame the beast. Or die trying… At least he wouldn't soil his luxurious new uniform on the first day.
The first thing that had to go was the wire connecting the call system to the main computer circuitry. He grabbed the fat hunk of rubber and ripped it out of the frayed housing. Now it wouldn't dispense a drop unless he told it otherwise. McCoy knew most of the unit would have to be replaced eventually, but he had less than 8 hours. This had all the earmarks of a pet project. Or a quagmire, he thought ruefully.
At all times, he kept the formulas for sucrose and sodium chloride in the back of his mind, as these were the two most abundant chemicals found in the waters on the Marecinians' home world. The components of these two compounds were the only ones that needed to be in ready supply at this juncture. The rest of the stuff in there could go and rot. McCoy told it so.
When the injector started sparking at him, McCoy swore up and down that the second this mission was over, he would personally throw the hunk of junk misnomer of a 'regulator' out an airlock. Scotty's subsequent laughter was almost as loud. Of course, that sent the good Doctor into another blue streak that had the whole cargo bay walking on eggshells.
When somebody finally came and tapped him on the shoulder, McCoy was covered in grease, cleaning solution, and sweat in nearly equal parts. A pretzel stick hung out the side of his mouth like a cigar. It took two attempts to get his attention. The Doctor backed his arms out of the machine's belly and turned, giving his visitor a good look at the mess he'd made of himself.
"Wow, Bones, I thought you were a doctor, not an engineer."
The pretzel stick disappeared and a grease-stained hand replaced it with another. "Jim, unless you brought something other than solution for me to dip these things in, get lost. I've nearly coaxed it into pumping water and not sludge."
The Captain, uniform pristine as the minute it was delivered, looked down at his CMO with a shake of his head. "Cleaning solution, Bones? Maybe I should be the one monitoring your diet. Besides, I'm sure someone else can handle the repairs while you get cleaned up."
McCoy turned away and stuck his face up against the opening. "Where are you gonna find spare personnel at this hour? I bet Scotty's got them worked to the bone or spread clear across the ship." The regulator chose this moment to spit a liquid mix of grease and charred sucrose all over its attending physician.
Jim pursed his lips. "You sure?"
Scowling, McCoy wiped off a majority of the sludge with his filthy sleeve. "Yes I am, Captain, unless you can scare up an engineer who can fix this thing to my specifications."
He didn't see his Captain's raised eyebrows. "Of course I can, Bones, if one of them doesn't mind changing back out of dress uniform. Roll call was half an hour ago."
McCoy blinked. Half an hour? "Ain't no way, Jim, I only just started pulling apart the compressor. It's slow work, not being an engineer, but I couldn't've-"
"Taken seven hours? You did. The last progress report you gave Scotty said it was 87 percent complete, and he took that one in his quarters. The Marecinians can wait another half hour for their quarters, but you are needed to greet the diplomatic envoy. They expect nothing less."
The Doctor's face went slack with surprise. Shock, maybe. "Seven hours, Jim?"
"Transporter Room to Captain Kirk." Scotty's voice echoed in the cargo bay. "The diplomatic envoys are ready to begin transport."
"Well, Bones, looks like you're out of time." Jim scowled at the ceiling, upset at himself for not thinking to check with his senior officers at least a little bit in advance. He grabbed McCoy's arm and hauled him off the ground. "We're going to have to take this show on the road. Where is your uniform?"
It wasn't in the storage closet where McCoy left it. Jim knew it would take far too long to hike up to Bones' quarters for a replacement, so another pair of coveralls would have to do. An apologizing ensign met them in the turbolift with a washcloth. McCoy managed to get his arms clean by the time they reached the transporter room.
"Stand back here with me, Doctor. They might not notice." Scotty pulled him behind the console- so his state of dress might pass unnoticed- and took the wet washcloth to McCoy's face. The transporter chief began shoving the doctor into his uniform jacket. Although too big, the young man said, it might serve in a pinch.
"Besides, the turtleneck is a good look." The fussing was over and the ship's CMO looked mostly presentable. He was reminded of the scene in the old standard-display movie Mulan, where she gets tugged around like some sort of dress-up doll. It wasn't something he was keen on doing again.
The Captain turned to his motley crew, mostly assembled before him. He fought the urge to groan. "Scotty, did we get someone on that regulator problem?"
"Aye sir. It'll be done within the hour."
Jim breathed a huge sigh. "Wonderful. Alright, people. It's showtime." He turned to face the platform. "Mister Scott, whenever you're ready."
"Aye sir." Scotty punched in the coordinates and got ready to start the beam up. "It'll be the Starfleet Security detail and the Berellian Ambassadors first. Beginning transport sequence."
They all watched the golden haze spread over the transporter platform. McCoy could see some tall, slender figures materializing in the front, but the back was a wall of light. When the atom descrambling was finished, his jaw dropped. There were the Marecinians in front, swaddled in water-retention suits, but behind them…
"Blue!" It was a man's voice, a grown voice, but the owner was unmistakable. After all these years, he hadn't lost his youthful charm.
"Conna!" McCoy forgot his state of dress and bolted out from behind the transporter console. The Marecinians quickly vacated the pad. They wouldn't want to stand in the way of this reunion.
Hard to imagine as it was, but Conna had grown since McCoy saw him last. His fur was a rich dark brown, speckled with white spots, and now it seemed he had a uniform of his own. There was a maroon jacket stretched across his shoulders with –surprise of surprises- a Starfleet pin attached to the front. He had the rank of lieutenant, Security division. Conna must've gotten a universal translator implant as well, because his outfit lacked the clunky cylinder they'd used to talk last time.
McCoy only had a moment to take this in before Conna came to a full stop at the edge of the platform, paw coming up parallel to the side of his head. "Lieutenant Conna- diplomatic security- reporting for duty, Captain."
He could practically feel Jim's grin, which made the Doctor think there was a little more to this than plain surprise. Jim was smiling brightly when he addressed Conna. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. I believe you're familiar with my senior staff…"
Careful to avoid the Marecinians- who were much smaller than the full-grown Lieutenant- Conna stepped down off the pad and made a beeline for McCoy.
"What are you doin' here?" The Doctor decided to throw formality out the window and go straight for the ears. Conna, now much taller than McCoy, licked his face in response.
Jim was grinning like a fool and not a starship captain. "We wanted to surprise you, Bones." He approached the mess of affection. "Chapel was going to keep you away from Sickbay all day so you wouldn't see the last-minute roster, but you did that for yourself."
"Yes." The voice McCoy was starting to connect with Conna said. "I was wondering why you smelled like Engineering."
That got a laugh out of Scotty and McCoy couldn't help but grin. "I just happened to be answerin' the call of duty. Any officer would've stepped in and done the same for our guests. Speakin' of, Jim- do we have somebody…?"
Some lieutenants in perfectly crisp uniforms had already come through the door, ready to escort the Marecinian envoy to their freshly pumped quarters. Jim nodded to Scotty and turned back towards the transporter pad. Only two arrivals this time, and boy, were they big!
It took him a moment to conjure up 'Icheleus' instead of 'Asta', but McCoy recognized the big ol' head of security at once. The old feller was a little grey around the muzzle, but he looked to be in top form otherwise. Next to him was a much younger Treivan, and they were both wearing some kind of… 'dog sweaters' was the best thing his mind could conjure at the moment.
"Doctor McCoy." Icheleus strode forward. His deep voice boomed in the little room, though he hadn't 'spoken' loudly. Somehow, it was exactly what he'd imagined.
"Icheleus. Forgive me, I don't know if I ever knew your proper title, or I'd use it." McCoy made a sort of bowing gesture since they didn't shake hands, and Icheleus seemed far less inclined to lick his face.
The older Treivan's eyes sparkled. "It was 'Captain' when we first met, though now 'Ambassador' is much more fitting." It seemed Icheleus had mellowed with age. He wasn't bounding around, stalking, barking orders, or any of that. This was a wiser Icheleus.
"Well then, Ambassador, I'm glad to welcome you aboard the Enterprise." McCoy rocked back onto his heels, grinning. This was shaping up to be a real good day.
"I thank you, Doctor. Also, allow me to introduce my daughter Rhaelam." The young lady stepped forward, not longer obscured by her father's bulk. She was small, smaller than he'd remembered Conna being, with wavy, reddish fur-
McCoy's eyes widened slightly as he realized just whose daughter Rhaelam was. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young lady. I believe I knew both your parents back in the day…?" He directed the last bit towards Icheleus, who exhaled quickly through his nose. A Treivan laugh? A snort?
"You are correct, Doctor. Rhaelam is mine and Ramicran's daughter. We were paired before the invasion, and were able to enter unity after Ambassador Hanari resolved the trouble."
"Ramicran!" Jim spoke up then, surprised. "I'd never have taken you two for a couple, but congratulations either way." There was a faraway look in his eyes for a moment. He probably remembered a lot about the Treivan mission just then.
"Thank you, Captain Kirk. Thank you too for your hospitality. Though, I believe we are holding up the line." He shuffled away from the transporter pad and gestured for Rhaelam to follow.
McCoy jumped right back in, gesturing to Conna and Icheleus. "I can show you to your rooms, the Captain permitting…"
That got a laugh out of Jim. "Of course, Doctor. We really only needed you here for this much. I'm sure Spock, Scotty, and I can handle this without you." There was a twinkle in his eye, and McCoy knew all was golden.
He walked Icheleus, Rhaelam, and Conna out into the hallway. "I can give you the grand tour if you'd like, or we can go straight to your quarters." McCoy was grinning from ear to ear. "Whichever you'd prefer!"
Conna pulled up alongside him and started nosing at his leg. Right. The coveralls. "Blue, you need a wash before the dinner! These clothes look clean, but they reek of Engineering."
McCoy fought the heat creeping up into his face. He could feel the flush coming on, and did his best to wave it off. "I had to take apart a water regulator and put it back together again before all y'all got here. The Marecinians need a special combination of chemicals in their water, and we didn't have another working device."
"It is fine, Doctor." Icheleus spoke up, giving Conna a look that probably said a lot more. "We do not stand so much on formality. I believe Conna wishes this for your sake, not our own."
Chastened, Conna dipped his head a little. "Forgive me. I detected irritation from the Captain on a low level. I would not have mentioned it otherwise."
That made a lot of sense. Jim was kind of in knots about the whole affair. It was reasonable, since they had to move up the timetable and everything. And McCoy really didn't mind. Now that he was off the hook for diplomatic greetings, he couldn't care less if he was a mess.
Though, a shower would be pretty nice right about now.
"I'll be sure to show you to your quarters first. Let me just check the computer…" McCoy walked over to one of the refitted hall terminals and did a quick search. He was awfully glad they had a few of these stationed on every deck. It made information retrieval that much faster.
"There. Your temporary housing is in the recreation deck." He smiled. "Deck Seven. Not too far from Sickbay if anything goes wrong. Let me show y'all the way."
The hallway was filled with bright new uniforms, bustling crewmen, and three giant canines. McCoy had a feeling this might not be turn out bad after all.
A/N: Spoiler Alert: it does.