Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Would love to own ST, but I just borrow the characters and return them intact
Jim, trailed by Spock, strode into the medical bay moments after McCoy had sent word that Pike's surgery was finished. Bones hadn't provided further details, which Jim took as an ominous sign.
Medical was dark and quiet except for the occasional hum of the automatic monitors. Jim passed the beds of several crewmen still recovering from the Romulan attack. Most were asleep, machines above their beds keeping silent watch.
One injured crewmember who was awake smiled as he approached. It was with a strong sense of embarrassment that Kirk realized he didn't even know her name. Her lower arms were covered with severe burns, a casualty of Nero's attack. They looked terribly painful but, judging from her relaxed demeanor, the painkillers McCoy had obviously prescribed were just as obviously working.
"Lieutenant Akila," Spock's voice came from behind him. "Your presence has been missed in the xenobiology lab."
Great, Spock knew her name and where she worked, while he could only stare blankly. Jim realized he needed to study photos and memorize job descriptions of what was, for the time being at least, his crew. It was poor form for a ship's captain not to know his subordinates by name, rank, face, and job, and he had little idea as to the identities of anyone other than the bridge crew.
It probably would have been an even better idea if he'd made an effort to visit the crewmembers still in the Medical Bay before now. He'd let his own desire not to be examined by McCoy interfere with his duty to comfort those who'd been injured in battle. Damn, there were so many things to remember in this command thing.
Akila was still smiling – dang those must be good meds Bones handed out. "Thank you, Mr. Spock." She nodded in the direction of her burns. "Dr. McCoy says he'll start the grafting and regeneration tomorrow and that I'll probably be back to work in a week."
"We will all look forward to it, Lieutenant," Spock replied smoothly.
"Yes, definitely," Jim added. Oh that was good. He smiled at her, feeling like a heel for being so clueless. When she nonetheless returned his smile, he nodded and swiftly excused himself, heading in the direction of the isolation room, where McCoy, still in his surgical attire, was working over Pike and clearly agitated. Warning bells started to go off in Kirk's head. A glance at Spock revealed he too seemed . . . concerned.
Pike lay pale and motionless under a sterile sheet, his body suspended a few inches above the biobed in a position designed to relieve pressure on the spinal region. Jim moved closer, being careful not to touch any of the tubes and lines snaking between Pike's body and the medical machinery. Rather than attempt to interpret the monitors, he decided to await McCoy's pronouncement.
"Bones?" he asked tentatively.
McCoy turned toward him, the strain of the past few hours etched onto his face. "Well, surgery's over, but he's still critical and I can't say he's exactly stable." He turned back to his nurse. "Call me if anything changes. And I mean anything."
He nodded at Jim and Spock. "Come with me."
Jim started to say something about giving orders to the Acting Captain and First Officer but one look at Bones' expression made him think better of it. Instead, with a shrug directed at Spock, he followed his acting CMO out of the room.
McCoy led them to the CMO's office, still outfitted for its recent and now deceased owner. The nameplate, plaques, diplomas and awards all bore Dr. Puri's name, and the tchotchkes lining the cramped shelves undoubtedly belonged to the former CMO as well. Bones had carved out a corner of the desk for his own belongings that had the disorganized clutter of a temporary resident.
"Be right with you," McCoy said as he gave instructions to his computer to monitor Pike's condition. Satisfied, he slumped into his chair, then swiveled to the hazardous materials safe behind him. He turned back around holding a small biocontainer. Inside was a spider-like bug, several inches in length. It wasn't moving.
Kirk exchanged glances with Spock, who merely raised a single eyebrow.
"This is a Romulan arthropod," McCoy said. "Name escapes me for the moment."
"That's fascinating, Bones, but we came down here to get an update on Pike's condition, not to discuss Romulan entomology."
"Then you may be interested in a few facts about this little piece of Romulan entomology." McCoy nearly spat out the words. "Pike was forced to swallow it whole. Then it ate its way through the lining of his stomach and wrapped itself around his spinal cord."
Spock leaned forward to get a better look at the creature, eyebrow climbing toward his hairline.
Jim found himself gulping involuntarily but kept his eyes focused on McCoy. "And?"
McCoy's eyes flashed. "I think that's more than enough, don't you?"
"It is curious," Spock stated in a mild tone, "that the Romulans selected this form of torture. While unpleasant, there are other methods that are more . . . efficient in causing pain or even death."
McCoy appeared to relax slightly. "From what I've been able to determine, this thing releases a substance that acts as a truth serum. My guess is that they wanted information."
Given Nero's planned attack on Earth, McCoy's hypothesis made sense. "Did he give it?'' Jim asked.
"How the hell do I know?" McCoy reached for a glass of water. He really wanted coffee or, better yet, a stiff drink. "It's not important from a medical standpoint. What is important is that this thing also released neurotoxins into his cerebral-spinal fluid. From what I can tell, they've traveled to his brain and are wreaking havoc on his hypothalamus which, as you may remember from Biology 101, is the part of the brain that regulates body functions. Right now, Pike's are fluctuating wildly and there's not much I've been able to do to control it."
"Are there not medications . . . ?" Spock ventured.
"I don't need you to tell me how to practice medicine. He's getting the medications he needs and the fluctuations seem to be easing a bit, probably because removing the creature stopped any additional release of toxins." McCoy sat up straight. "But that's not my biggest concern."
Jim resisted the urge to ask the obvious question. Bones would get to it.
"I don't like the looks of the nerve conduction studies I've done."
Bones must have seen the blank look that creased his face. "Which means there may well be nerve damage," he explained.
"Paralysis?" Spock asked.
McCoy ran a hand through his hair. "Dunno. It's certainly a possibility. But until he wakes up and I can do more extensive testing, there's no way to determine the extent of the damage or even if there is damage."
"But the paralysis wouldn't be permanent, right?" Jim asked. "Aren't there nerve regenerator things?"
McCoy looked tired. "Jim, I did go to medical school. Even graduated. Yes, we can regenerate nerves, but there are certain baseline parameters that are needed for those drugs to work. This thing," he pointed to the container on his desk, "it's an unknown. I'm not sure what it's capable of and there's not much in our reference libraries to help. For now, I'm flying in the dark in terms of treatment."
When Spock failed to comment on McCoy's use of the idiom, Jim suspected that his First Officer recognized this wasn't the time to badger the doctor and that maybe the Vulcan understood human colloquialisms much better than he let on.
Spock stood up and reached for the container. "I will have the science department start an immediate analysis. We may be able to provide--"
He was interrupted by a shrill tone from McCoy's computer. "Goddammit, he's seizing!" McCoy bolted from his chair. Jim glanced at Spock, then followed his CMO into the isolation room.
Pike's body was jerking spasmodically, a medtech struggling to hold him down. McCoy glanced at the overhead monitors. "Cerisium, 500 milligrams!"
"What about his compromised respiratory status?" Collins asked.
"If we don't get this under control, he won't have a respiratory status. Get some C-14-B ready in case we need it."
Jim felt like a bystander, and a useless one at that, but couldn't pull himself away from the drama unfolding before him. If the medication was having any effect on Pike's condition, he certainly couldn't tell as the seizure continued. There were more reports from nurses and techs – a constant stream of readings and results, the success or failure of the current treatment. Jim couldn't follow the technical jargon but he could read body language as well as anyone. And the body language of the medical staff made clear that they were in a desperate fight for Pike's life and that they had full confidence in McCoy to lead them through it.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Pike's body relaxed, the readings above his bed seemed to stabilize, and several of the medical personnel who had filled the room now drifted away. It had, Jim decided, been a humbling experience and yet strangely exhilarating. Not unlike the recent battle with Nero.
McCoy softly gave orders to his nurse then turned around, rubbing his temples, apparently not surprised to find Jim still there. "He's more or less stable for now. I really won't know more until he wakes up, and the meds I've given him will keep him out for awhile."
For the first time that day, Jim was aware of the doctor's scrutiny directed to him, Bones giving him the visual examination that he'd learned to despise. "Now, Acting Captain Kirk, it's past time I had a look at you." He nodded toward the adjoining room. "Let's go."
The last thing Jim wanted to do was face an examination. He had a pretty good idea what it would show and, given Bones' proclivity to overreact to every bump and bruise, that could well mean a couple of days as a patient in the medical bay. That's not what he or the Enterprise needed. "Bones, I'm okay."
McCoy was having none of it. "I think I'm a better – and more unbiased – judge of that. CMO prerogative, Captain."
Jim started to argue, started to protest, started to deny. He looked at McCoy's determined face, looked at the still figure of Captain Pike, felt his own injuries increasingly making themselves known, and decided that this might not be the time to test the limits of his command or his friendship.
"Okay, Bones. But make it quick."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "I'm a doctor, not a short-order cook." He again pointed to the nearby exam room. "Go!"