DE-briefing
Author's Note: As per usual, my muse has vanished off on a tangent and abandoned half a chapter of my 'long-haul' fic (infinite depth beneath the surface) half-way completed… I swear my muse has the attention span of a particularly flighty goldfish!
So, welcome to this 'tangent'.
Oh, and Happy Easter - it's Easter Sunday over here in Blighty.
***
Star Fleet tried to have its Star Ships prepared for any event, or, in any case, as prepared as was possible when facing the unknown where no man, or any other Federation species, had gone before. To ensure a Star Ship was at its best, drills were performed at random intervals, with only the Admiralty, Captain and First Officer actually aware of when, where, and how a simulated catastrophe would take place.
"Captain, the hypothetical event of the engine coolant system failure and consequential warp drive temperature increasing to a life-threatening level simulation had a ninety-seven-percent success rate." Commander Spock said, collating the data being sent to him from various points in the engineering department.
"Great! That's fantastic!" the captain replied, relieved beyond measure at their score. He quickly rose from his chair and moved to peer over his first officer's shoulder at the readings coming in thick and fast. "What happened to the other three percent?"
"I am as of yet uncertain." the Vulcan replied, sifting speedily through more reports, "There appears to be no deviations from the standard protocol of such situations; the crew of engineering worked together in an excellent example of teamwork. The engineering crew used their initiative and skills to the best effect to minimise the damage caused to the warp core, while simultaneously ensuring the safety of the ship..."
"In other words, there was nothing really stopping them getting full marks?"
"Indeed, Captain. Though, no crew has yet to achieve one-hundred-percent on any of the simulations staged by the admiralty." Spock replied.
"Yeah, well we might just have to see about being the first to do that…" There was a brief pause while the Captain returned to his chair, "Bridge to Engineering."
"Engineering, sir." came the reply after a long few moments, a breathless female voice coming through over the speakers.
"Who is this?" Kirk asked, startled to not hear the ranting and raving of his chief engineer. Scotty hated these simulations as much as he hated anything to do with snow and ice; even though he knew how vital they were; though, Scotty hated anything that tampered with his engines.
"Lieutenant Commander Whitaker, sir. Can I be of assistance, Captain?" she asked politely, still gasping slightly.
"Are you alright, Whitaker?" Kirk asked, concerned.
"Aye sir, the simulation shut our comms down, I've had to run from the other side of engineering to answer your transmission... But we should be back on line within five minutes, sir, we're just inputting the override provided by the Admiralty and waiting for it to right the programming." she replied.
"Whitaker, where's Commander Scott?" Kirk asked.
"Well… you see… sir, he… erm… didn't report… erm… to his… post during the… erm… simulation." she said, pausing in odd places, as if choosing her words carefully. Very carefully. Engineering were fiercely loyal to each other; one big happy-if-not-slightly-mad-and-obsessed-with-the-ship family. A team as efficient as the Flagship's engineers had to be such a close unit if they wanted to keep their simulation scores so high - or be able to pull through during a crisis, like they always did.
"Thank you Lieutenant Commander, keep the bridge posted on the status of engineering. Well done to everyone down there. Kirk out." the captain paused, "Computer, locate Commander Scott."
"Commander Scott is currently in Sick Bay."
"I think I found where our other three percent went, Spock." Kirk muttered, "Mr. Spock, you have the conn. I'm going to go make sure Scotty's alright."
"Aye, captain." Spock replied, still not looking up from the data arriving rapidly at his station.
****
"Bones?! Scotty?!" Kirk called as he entered medbay, noticing the lack of medical personnel in the immediate vicinity. They'd probably gone down to engineering - engineers had a nasty habit of being more concerned about their engines and other apparatus, rather than their own health.
Kirk looked around the almost silent area, seeing Nurse Chapel leaned against a biobed, silently laughing, her shoulders shaking. With great effort, she straightened and saluted her Captain.
"Chapel, where's Dr. McCoy and Commander Scott?" he asked, motioning for her to stand at ease.
"Examination room one, sir." she wheezed.
"What's so funny, nurse?"
"The contents of exam room one, sir. Sorry, sir."
"Nothing life threatening, then?" he asked, mildly confused.
"That depends on who's opinion you ask." she said cryptically, finally calming down.
"It has to be something serious for Scotty to not report to his post - I've had to order him away from it more times than not." Kirk commented, walking absently towards the examination room, and overriding the door.
"Watch the teeth doon there! Watch the teeth!" came the breathy cry.
Scotty was standing with his back to the side of the biobed, his hands in a white-knuckled vice-like grip on the mattress. His head was thrown back, as he groaned in agony. McCoy was knelt at his feet, both hands wiggling in the Scotsman's pants, his face very close to the engineer's crotch. An open tube of lubricant dribbled onto a piece of paper towel by the doctor's knees.
"Cap'n, its nay what it looks like." Scotty wheezed, grimacing.
"Yeah, erm, what happened?" Kirk asked, moving closer and peering down at what his friend was doing with the engineer.
"The alarms went off when I were in th' shower, Cap'n. I dashed oot and put me clothes on; an I did nay bother with me undies, and I've erm… trapped a very sensitive bit o' anatomy in me britches's zip…"
"That explains a lot." Kirk muttered, now understanding Chapel's cryptic words. Any man would probably consider Scotty's predicament life-threatening. And getting stuck in your zip was certainly a very good reason for not reporting to your post.
"How am I supposed to word this on the report I'll be sending to the Admirals? Its not as if I can write, 'Chief Engineer did not report to his post because he managed to catch his bits in his fly." Kirk commented, scratching his head as he looked anywhere but at what the doctor was doing, Kirk made a conscious effort to not attempt to cross his legs in sympathy (and perhaps protectively).
"I'll come up with something convincing for you… and I'll make it so only the medical Admiral will have any idea what the report's on about; and she's not allowed to tell anyone else because she's bound by the Hippocratic Oath - though she'll probably get a good laugh out of it." McCoy replied, not shifting his attention from his task. "You've managed to get well-and-truly jammed in there!"
"I could've told yer that, doc!" Scotty griped before turning his face to Kirk, "Cap'n, how'd it go? Everything calmed doon nice and quick, so I presume it were a test, plus my engines coolant system wouldn't dare throw a wobbly wioot being provoked first! Did my laddies and lassies score alright wi'oot me?"
"They got a ninety-seven. They worked brilliantly together… not to mention I'll have the immense pleasure of rubbing it in the captain of the USS Renaissance's face when we next have the misfortune of crossing paths." Kirk replied, grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh! Cap'n. I'm as proud as punch for them! And that arse on the Renaissance, Mr.-your-crew's-too-young-and-inexperienced-to-be-on-the-flagship can shove that ninety-seven in his pipe and smoke it! Ha! His lot only got a ninety on their last sim! Ha!" Scotty cheered, a brief beaming smile suddenly being replaced by a small scream of pain.
"Stop, squirming, dammit!" McCoy groused from where he knelt.
"Yer making it worse! Ye are!" the engineer yelped.
"Well, maybe you'll remember to put your tighty-whities on before your pants next time! If we'd really been in the middle of a red-alert, you'd be at the bottom of the triage priority list at the moment!" McCoy scowled.
"Maybe we should look into button-up flys." Kirk commented.
"Probably, he's not the only crew member who's managed to do this - though, he's the first one to manage to get himself so god-damned stuck."
"I don nay do anything by half, doc." Scotty groaned though clenched teeth.
"Nurse, Chapel! When you've done chuckling, bring me a pair of scissors." McCoy ordered.
"Aye sir."
"SCISSORS! Nay! There's nay need for scissors!" Scotty screamed in a remarkably high-pitched voice.
"I'm not going to amputate anything, man, get a grip." McCoy chided, continuing to gently tug at the fabric and stuck zipper teeth.
"I'll leave you to it, Bones, let me know when Scotty's ready to be debriefed on the simulation."
"it's the de-briefing that got him into this mess." Chapel said, handing over the scissors and grinning.
"That was an awful pun, Nurse, really awful." McCoy groaned, but laughed slightly regardless.
"Its not bloody funny!" Scotty whined as the captain left the exam room.