"WHAT? That's not like Bones at all!"
Spock did not relish having to awaken the Captain to inform him that his ship's CMO did not report back aboard ship after shore leave.
"Are you sure Spock? He's not in his quarters sleeping it off?"
"No sir. Knowing the good Doctor as well as we both do, that was my first destination. He was not there, nor was he in the Sickbay or the observation deck. Mr. Scott confirmed that the Doctor did not transport back from the planet's surface."
Kirk ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. He had insisted, nay ordered, Bones take shore leave with him. The doctor had taken his father's recent death hard, very hard. Since his return from bereavement leave on Earth he had steadfastly refused any and all attempts by either Kirk or Spock to penetrate the fierce walls of private pain he had erected, spending most of his off-duty time in his quarters or quietly staring out at the stars from the observation deck. Kirk had wanted to try to nudge him out of his moroseness for at least one evening, and he thought he had succeeded. The last time he saw McCoy downplanet, he appeared to be completely but happily sloshed, proposing a mock serious toast to Kirk's retreating backside. What had happened afterwards? He dismissed the beginnings of a dark, inconceivable thought. Bones always managed to wander back aboard hours before Kirk himself usually returned. He never stayed overnight without checking in. And especially never AWOL. Very odd. "Have we informed the Federation consul planetside?"
"Yes sir. Lieutenant Uhura contacted them as soon as the doctor failed to report in."
Well, he should've known. Bones wasn't his friend exclusively. He reached for the 'com. "Lieutenant?"
"Yes, Captain?" came Uhura's reply.
"Patch me in to the Federation consul."
"Yes sir." The next voice he heard wasn't nearly as pleasant or helpful.
"United Federation of Planets, Vela Gamma II legation. Parker speaking."
"Mr. Parker, Captain James T. Kirk commanding the U.S.S. Enterprise. I apologize for the inconvenience of the hour. I wish to speak to the Ambassador concerning the disappearance of my Chief Medical Officer -"
"Captain, the Ambassador is in bed and cannot be disturbed. He will be available at 0900 hours. Good evening."
"Mr. Parker, I must insist on speaking to the Ambassador, based on my authority as Starfleet's representative in this quadrant." Kirk used his most imperious command tone, to no apparent effect.
"I am sorry Captain, but the Ambassador left explicit instructions not to be disturbed. Good evening." The transmission was abruptly broken off.
Sotto voce, "Pompous ass", then "Mr. Spock, you and I will beam down promptly at 0845 hours." Kirk's tone did not bode well for the hapless Mr. Parker, or the Federation Ambassador for that matter.
Spock inclined his head slightly and left.
At that moment, the object of their solicitude had slowly pulled himself up onto some sort of curbing, where he leaned heavily against a lamppost nursing his broken wrist, trembling with pain and cold. This isn't how it's supposed to be!
Strains of an ancient Southern tune wafted upon the damp night air. Wha..? How could that be…! The Bonny Blue Flag? Delirium. Has to be! A voice approached from the darkness, a voice he didn't recognize, seemingly addressing him, coming closer and closer.
"Cap'n? Cap'n!"
Captain? Not me. I'm just an ol' country doctor, remember? As steady arms caught and encircled him, he slipped into an oddly comforting unconsciousness, wondering just where in the hell he was.