Of Damnation and Determination
Bones knew where the Silver Surfer was, roughly. He was in the nacelles section. Jim stopped him before he went into the strange cave the Silver Surfer had constructed for himself out of the broken metals of the Engineering around him.
"Bones… be careful. He's dangerous. No sudden movements, go as slow as you can. You're not going in alone, remember that. Spock is going with you, and Scotty might if he's well enough later. Spock'll be a real help in the languages department, and he can easily tell which metals are which. He'll be damn useful for you to figure out the Silver Surfer's chemical makeup."
"Affirmative." And with that and Spock, Bones headed into the dangerous, dark unknown. He was reminded of the fear he had felt going into space for the very first time. The situations were similar enough.
Then Bones really noticed the cave around him. It was almost artistic in its makeup, with brightly silver metal sheets bent haphazardly into a passageway, wires dangling down and shooting off sparks every so often. The walls were by no means smooth, the sheets of metal sharply jutting in points, so Bones and Spock had to carefully make their way through the passage without getting electrocuted, stabbed, or tripped with a single light at their disposal.
"Doctor." Spock spoke up suddenly. "You are aware that before you can safely come close to the creature, I must somehow come to an understanding with it."
"Yes, I am aware, Mr. Spock. The only thing is, why is it you who's doing the emotional pacifying and why Jim's still outside this damn hellhole? I figure that you, with all your logic, could deduce something like that."
Bones could have sworn that Spock pursed his lips in annoyance, but in the torrid light he couldn't tell for sure.
"I am well aware that Captain Kirk has a certain skill in emotionally connecting and pacifying a majority of the entities he comes into contact with, but that is not the logical solution in this case. While the Captain is unusually talented in this area, he deals mainly in the projection of his emotion through facial, oral, and bodily language that will not affect the creature inside of this cave. Previous encounters with this being indicate that it does not understand emotions through any of these means."
"And you have a foolproof way of cutting through that."
"Indeed, Doctor."
There was a pause when Bones waited for further explanation and got none. Spock is just baiting me, he realized. He wants me to ask him. He wants me to get annoyed. He wants me to logically release the stress I've been building up, and forget about the possible death around the corner with the Silver Surfer.
Bones sighed and shrugged, not that Spock would see it. "Well, Mr. Spock, I can't curb my curiosity. What the hell are you planning to do to it?"
There was another pause from Spock.
"It is a Vulcan tradition that began with Surak, at the dawn of civilization on the planet, that connects minds to one another, melding the into one, allowing communication through thoughts."
Bones stopped walking.
"It is the Vulcan mind meld."
His mouth hung open.
"Doctor?" Spock looked back, Bones would almost swear, in a smug way.
Bones clamped his mouth shut, and started walking again.
"I'll believe it when I see it, Mr. Spock." Bones scratched his head. "If it was just me, I would have thought that you were just –"
But here Bones stopped; it hit him all at once. The reason Spock was refusing to see the logic in Jim's accompanying the party was because Spock was protecting Jim from the Silver Surfer. Logically, as it had already attacked Jim before, it could try again if given the chance. The mind meld thing Bones wasn't so sure about, but even if Spock really did have this meld thing, Jim should have still been there to give input and advice. He was the captain, after all; any treaties or agreements under the power of the Enterprise should go through him. Sending Jim to get Scotty instead of a Yeoman during such a delicate situation was Spock's way of keeping Jim out of danger and unsuspicious through an occupation.
Bones smirked and gave a sidelong glance to Spock.
"For someone who claims to not have feelings, Mr. Spock, that was a very compassionate action you just took."
"Doctor, I am offended. Please refrain from insults until the crisis is safely averted; they have a tendency to render officers inefficient."
"Oh, so you wouldn't be an efficient officer if I insulted you?"
"I was referring to yourself, Doctor."
Bones huffed an aggravated sigh. Why couldn't Spock ever just admit to his feelings? Everyone knew he had them, especially from the Narada incident. Why did it always have to be an uphill battle?
All of a sudden, Bones' tricorder went insane. After a half an hour of slightly increasing readings that seemed impossible, it was just too much for the poor tricorder. It just squealed and went blank.
"I think I found the creature."
"I believe I can compensate the tricorder settings to easily record the readings of the creature." Meaning: I'll fix it for you.
"All the luck to you, Mr. Spock." Bones handed his tricorder to him immediately. They stopped walking.
With five clicks and some manual tinkering, Spock got the tricorder working again.
"This is now programmed to accept electromagnetic and magnetic stimuli as well as the standard regulation stimuli. I have also incorporated the basic metals as the primary focus of the sensor, so difficulties with working on the creature will be diminished."
Bones was about to ask him how he had done all that in about thirty seconds, but decided that as long as it worked, he didn't care. So they got moving again.
It was dangerous, slippery work to move through the sparking, metallic caverns of the Silver Surfer. Every so often, the sparks from the open wires would explode, illuminating the sheer length and sharp points of the tunnel. Bones was amazed that the Silver Surfer could have done all this in such a short time. He must have taken up three decks with his little tunnel! Bones mused. Jim is going to do so much paperwork after this is done…
"Doctor." Spock stopped walking.
"What?"
"There is the creature."
Spock had said it in such a calm, logical way that Bones had to do a double take. He had at first thought, Oh, well, that's just fine and dandy. It had seemed like a report on the functions of the ship or something, so commonplace that Bones almost missed it.
But then he understood, and Bones froze. Not that he was afraid or anything. Bones knew that when an animal was wounded, its tendency was to attack the closest moving object, perceiving it as a threat.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Bones turned his head to see the creature he had come to save.
It was big, bigger than Bones had imagined it. The caverns were massive, and it filled them up easily, like a hulking bear. The figure was large but lithe, a dangerous combination between strength and agility. It shifted every so often, its form glittering softly in the faint light from the wire sparks. Bones knew that body language; the creature was in serious pain. The sounds coming from the curled up mass in the corner of the cavern were indicative of elevated breathing levels. There were a considerable amount of shining pools surrounding it, which Bones attributed to bleeding, even if it wasn't technically blood.
Bones pointed his light at the ground, so as to not antagonize.
"Spock, can it hear?" Bones whispered. "Can we talk?"
"No, it cannot hear, Doctor." Spock started to go into a scientific explanation of why it couldn't hear, but then got cut off as the creature responded to his voice. It began to turn towards them, leaning down on its haunches and getting into a classic attack position.
"Certainly, Mr. Spock. Your logic is as flawless as ever." Bones couldn't resist the jab, even if the situation was exceedingly dangerous.
The creature growled before Spock could respond. It sounded like a growl, anyway, Bones really couldn't be sure. Maybe it was some alien language politely greeting them to its abode. Bones had never been a real optimistic person, but suddenly he wished that he was. He knew that growl meant that if they didn't leave, it would kill them.
Being the people they were, Spock and Bones stayed still, and didn't even twitch. Time dragged on and on.
The creature slowly relaxed from its attack position, almost collapsing into what looked like the fetal position against the wall of the cave. Bones wondered how it could avoid all of the sharp spikes while it leaned against the wall. But there were more important things to worry about. Like how to establish peaceful relations with a wounded animal that could kill them as easily as it took to swing its arm.
The breathing rate of the creature had increased almost double the amount it had been when they had arrived. Bones knew that it desperately needed medical attention, but he was loathe to make the wrong move, so he didn't dare any moves at all. Maybe after another hour of the creature becoming used to their presence, at the least.
Then, logically of course, Spock took a step, and the creature was on alert once again. It didn't look strong enough to get back on its haunches, but its arms tensed up and its head turned towards Spock in a flash.
In reaching the edge of the creature's personal space, Spock held up his hands, curving them into claws. Spock's head hung, his arms outstretched. In Bones' opinion, it was just plain weird.
"My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts."
Maybe this was the psychic crap Spock had been talking about before. Bones hoped it worked, but at the same time, he was creeped out.
As time went on, Spock's head still hung, and his arms and hands were in the same position the entire time. But the creature calmed down. The shining eyes that had been so full of fear were half-lidded, and the entire body of the creature had relaxed. The breathing had slowed down to a normal rate.
"Doctor McCoy, it is now safe to treat the creature."
"What the hell did you do?"
"I have calmed the creature, assuring it of our intentions. He will be cooperative in our attempts to heal it."
"I have some questions first."
"Proceed, Doctor."
"It has a name?"
Spock stopped for a second, and then responded, "He is named… Slistastostas, I believe."
"Can he speak?"
"No, Doctor. Though I believe at one time he could, it seems as though his vocal cords are inoperative at the time."
"Does he understand our language?"
"Negative, Doctor." Spock stopped for another second. "Though I believe he is familiar with the language of the Zanabares."
"The who?"
"The people who inhabit the planet of Colony IX, the Zanabares."
"Okay, then. Does it matter?"
Spock pursed his lips, almost angrily. "The… Zanabares people… bring up many negative emotions in Slistastostas, Doctor. Fear, anger, hatred… I believe that it matters immensely. The injuries… Slistastostas has sustained… Ah!"
Spock screwed his eyes up in concentration or pain, Bones couldn't tell which.
"Did not… happen on the Enterprise… I cannot go any… farther than this… in the mind of Slistastostas… There are too many painful memories, too many strong emotions… I believe that you should begin your treatment of him, he is in… so much pain..."
Bones slowly moved forward, still cautious of Slistastostas. He pulled out his tricorder and held up the light.
According to the tricorder, the body of Slistastostas was mainly composed of grease and oil, the human equivalent being water, Bones guessed. The neural system was made up of electric circuits, and the blood was composed of a mixture between gold, rust, and copper. Organs were mainly made up of zinc, the bones iron and steel, and the skin was a thin layer of porous platinum. Bones had never seen anything like it. He had expected as much. He thanked God he had taken that alien xenobiology recognition and comparison elective in his senior year of undergraduate college.
After figuring out the basic design of the basically humanoid body, Bones got cracking on the wounds.
Indeed, phaser fire made up the most obvious injuries on the surface, which caused the most bleeding. But it looked as though the more serious injuries that truly incapacitated Slistastostas were not from phaser fire, but in a cumulate amount of what looked like some form of torture. Scarring tissue adorned several key vessels, as did specifically placed cuts to prevent continued extreme movement. Bones checked the vocal cords, which resembled computer cords, and they appeared to have been purposefully cut.
After compiling the information, Bones stopped, putting his tricorder down and looking at Spock compassionately. Spock waited for his diagnosis.
"These wounds are definitely purposefully inflicted through torture. And…" Bones looked down angrily, closing his eyes. "Tell Slistaslas or whatever the hell his name is that…" Bones paused. "…I'll fix you up good and proper, don't you worry."
Though his voice had cracked a bit, and his eyes had swelled with some tears, Bones held it back, and pulled out his med-kit after a second of throwing all of his emotions in a temporary box. He was immeasurably angry and heart-wrenchingly sad all at the same time and it reminded him of his divorce, but he knew that now was the time to act.
Slistaslas or whatever the hell his name was would die if he didn't.
And Bones wouldn't let any patient die if he could prevent it.
Because that was his job, dammit.
It didn't have anything to do with the pity and grief and sympathy for the pain this poor creature's been through, or the hatred and anger and self-loathing against his torturers.
Bones pulled on his surgical gloves again. His eyes, which had been slightly out of focus as he denied his emotional involvement, suddenly zeroed in on the injuries of Slitastostas.
It was time to get some serious shit done, dammit.
As Bones proceeded to kick the hell out of modern medicine and its practices with sheer badassery, he imagined what the official report would look like. Probably'll be borin' as hell, he thought. Take alla fun outta it.
Working with limited tools and next to no precious resources, Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy and Commander Spock commenced procedural surgery on an unknown alien physiognomy.
Bones snorted. Spock looked up at him suddenly.
"Doctor?"
"Alien physiognomy my ass… We're thinking about this all wrong. This is just like a machine we need fixed. We need Scotty for this."
After four hours of open chest surgery, the two officers were joined by Captain James T. Kirk and Chief Engineer Scott for further assistance.
"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" Damn you, Kirk, with your damn optimism and perkiness.
"What cannae do fer ya, Doctor?"
"Well, took you long enough, dammit. We got the basic parts of him back together, and I can tell you all about how his body works, but I'm for shit at putting it together. You have to do it."
"Go on, then." Scotty smiled.
" His body is the perfect machine, Scotty. It uses the oxygen in the air to stimulate sparks for energy, and the basic metals and lubricants that make up his system include platinum, steel, iron, gold, copper, and oil. His heart resembles a four-valve engine and his brain is like a computer. I've never seen anything that got this close to the perfect machine."
It was clear that Scotty was excited, with the smile, the obsessive spinning of his tools, and his eagerness to begin his part of the surgery.
"Wha' haff ye done already?"
"Dammit, Scotty, we've done as much as we can do, but it's nowhere near where it needs to be. We've done experimental procedures to figure him out and that's been just about it. I'm worth shit with machines, and Spock doesn't have the tools!"
"Oy, oy, Doctor, it's jus' fine, now. Calm down, thar's a good Doctor, now. We'll help this little baby run smooth now, won't we?"
Bones sighed, stood, and almost walked off. Scott motioned him to come back. "Ah didn't say me, Doctor. Ah may be good at fixin' machines, but this here is both a machine and a man. Ah think it would be best if ye stuck around, bein' the Doctor an' all."
Sitting abruptly back down, Bones sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
Bones and Scotty took a second to look at each other. Scotty went back to fiddling with the internal organs of Slistaslas (or whatever the hell his name was) with a wrench and some pointy looking tools Bones couldn't name. Bones kept on looking.
"I heard you fixed the ship after being damn near gutted by this thing."
"Ah heard ye fixed me up after not sleepin' fer two days."
"And now you've got the gall to walk around and keep on going after all that?"
"And now ye've been up for a total of six days? An' yer still doing surgeries?"
Bones sighed again. He wasn't in the mood. But that conversation released all the tension from his shoulders and his forehead. His narrowed eyes loosened, and Bones' ramrod straight posture slouched as he hunched over the body with Scotty, both of them reaching in and messing with the alien's innards.
"Yeah, that sounds just about right. Damn, has it really been six days?"
"Weeeeell, there mighta been a liddle time travelin' involved, but tha's not really all that important in th' long run I figure."
"So five, really?"
"Well, we've been through six, while everyone else 'as been through five."
"Well, damn, if ya think about it like that…" Bones smiled and chuckled, wrinkling his eyes closed.
The patient in front of him began to go into cardiac arrest. Being the doctor he was, Bones had been constantly checking the status of Slistastostas on the monitor of his tricorder and manually checking his pulse, so he knew instantly when things began to go awry.
"Scotty, he's going into cardiac arrest! We need to electrocute him!"
"Ah don' think that'll work, Doctor! He could short circuit!"
"We have to do it, dammit! He needs rapid stimulation or he'll die!"
"No, Doctor! A machine tha' overdoes it needs its energies cut off, not increased! We need to get rid or suppress any electricity to cut off the flow within his body to stop the cardiac arrest!"
"Then how the hell do we do that?"
"We jus' pull th' plug!"
"He doesn't have a fucking plug!!!"
"Hmmm…" Scotty chewed on his lip. "Then Ah guess Ah could make one."
Bones could only watch as Scotty ripped circuits and cords from the cave walls, sewing and tying them together in complicated ways. He attached one end of his makeshift plug to a live, sparking circuit, and the other directly within the creature.
"Doctor, where's th' bes' place fer me t' put this plug on this end?"
Bones fumbled with the engineer's rough hands to grasp the other end of the plug. He found the optimal site for connection and placed it there. Well, it was both him and Scotty. Scotty's hands were handling the weight and electricity of the cord while Bones was directing the movements. After it was done, Bones scooted back.
"I thought he didn't need any extra energy."
"This is fer after all 'is energy is sucked outta 'is body, Doctor. We're not connectin' it jus' yet."
"Then what are we doin' before, Scotty?"
Scotty hesitated for a moment before going back to tinkering.
"…Scotty?"
Scotty lowered his head.
"Dammit, Scotty, answer me!"
"Ah'm gonna absorb the shock of his system to drain all the electricity from his body. After tha' yer gonna plug the plug into 'im. After tha' he'll be fine. Everythin' else is basically fixed in 'im. This is th' 'ardest part of it."
Scotty was glaring determinedly into his eyes, daring him to refuse the ridiculous plan. Bones knew that this was a last resort; after all, there weren't many options left. But he still wasn't going to go without putting up a fight.
"Dammit, Scotty – "
"Doctor, Ah know it sounds a wee insane, but – "
"You just had a full restructure of your abdominal system! Your body can't take it, dammit, it's still healing!"
"It's all we have left, and ye know it."
"No. It most certainly is not."
When Spock spoke up, Bones whipped his head around to see him. Jim and Spock had been awfully quiet for most of the procedure, and Bones had almost forgotten they were there. Now he remembered.
"What is it, Spock? What else can we do?"
The Vulcan paused, not giving away anything on his face.
"I shall take the shock. I have not been injured as of yet during this mission, my body is three times as strong as a human's, and electric shock has never been effective to my species on the whole. I am the best candidate."
Bones paused. "I still don't like it, but that's a bit better than an injured patient with a restructured torso."
So Spock bent over Slistastostas, sent in some voodoo magic calming thoughts, and stuck his hand straight into the electric sparks of his body, disregarding the makeshift outsource plug Scotty had made. Jim somehow managed to simultaneously calm Bones and Spock while this was going on. Scotty just looked on silently. When it was over, Spock staggered back into the waiting arms of Kirk.
"Quick, Bones, Scotty! Get that alien back to life!"
Jim dragged Spock out of the hole with one light to Sickbay as Scotty and Bones were on the homestretch of the operation. All that was left after pumping electricity back into his system was to monitor the levels of the processes occurring in the patient's body. Or so Bones hoped. He wasn't one for positive thinking, and with his luck, some new ungodly disaster would soon strike.
And, kind of, one did.
After a moment of thought, Bones realized that their only translator, Spock, was gone.
"Dammit, Scotty, how the hell are we supposed to communicate with Slislistas or whatever the hell his name is? I don't know about you, but I sure don't have some batshit insane voodoo power that green-blooded hobgoblins do."
"Nay, Doctor. Ah suppose tha' we'll hafta tell him things through motions, ay?"
"Yeah, Scotty, let's play some goddamn Charades right in the middle of a crisis."
"'Ey, naew, Ah didnae say tha'! Les jus' taeke i' easy, naew, Doctor." Scotty smiled placatingly.
Bones sighed and calmed himself.
"Okay, fine, dammit. What's next on the list?"
Scotty's smile widened. "Well, as far as Ah figger it t' be, we oughta git 'im up and runnin' with yer specialty, Doctor."
"What the hell do you mean, my specialty?"
"Well, we hafta patch 'im back up naew, don't we?"
"Well, if you put it like that..."
When all of Slistastostas was finally put back together after some masterful teamwork, they shocked him with Scotty's makeshift plug to restart him.
They weren't planning on reawakening him.
Just as Scotty snapped the plug out, Slistastostas' eyes snapped open. The eyes were white in the center, surrounded by black, with a small light whirring deep within them.
Before Slistastostas could open his mouth, Bones laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. That seemed to do the trick, along with the look on Bones' face, filled with compassion and confidence.
"Now you just lay still, there, Mister Slislaslos. We gotcha safe right here." As Bones' compassion began breaking the seams of his demeanor, Bones' southern accent weighted down his speech more and more. "There ain't nothin' the matter with ya now, son, we done did this job right for ya. You just keep still, now, and we'll make damn sure you get on through."
As Slistastostas' eyes fluttered shut in trust, so did Bones' in fatigue. After an entire week of no sleep, Bones collapsed.
It was a good thing Scotty was there to catch him.
TBC
