With the dawn came the rain that they had expected the day before. It streamed down from the sky, pressing the dust out of the air. Mercifully it even seemed to dampen the fighting. McCoy stood in the doorway just staring into the plummeting curtain of water, glad to be able to lower the cloth from his mouth and breathe in pure air. He hoped to God that the place would continue to be quiet. There was so much work to do. They needed to find more food. They needed to find more resources to feed into the med-generator to keep the hypos stocked for the ever-increasing patient load. They needed to persuade the ones who were well enough that they needed to go somewhere else, anywhere else, as long as it was away from the fighting. They needed time to perform surgery on the more desperate cases. They needed to find someone who could take care of the few children who were currently being nursed and baby-sat by various lieutenants and ensigns.
He jerked back to awareness. There was no point standing here staring at the rain. He needed to do his rounds and check on the patients. He turned back inside and flipped open the screen on his medical tricorder, calling up the patient records he had made and scrolling through. There was no one desperately urgent right now – if anything had changed the nurse on duty would have called him or Dr Thompson – so he decided to go to Jim first. He walked across the room and crouched down at the captain's side.
'Been awake long?' he asked in a low voice.
'Not long,' Jim said quietly. He looked across at where Spock lay, still sleeping. 'Don't wake Spock, will you? I think he was awake half the night.'
'What makes you say that, Jim?' the doctor asked, following the captain's glance.
'I woke a few times. Once he wasn't there. Once he was on the other side of the room with another patient. Once he was here, but I don't think he was asleep. At least, his eyes were open.'
'Spock's learning how tough it is to be in command,' McCoy murmured.
Jim shook his head, but then winced. 'Don't fool yourself, Bones. Spock's known that for a long time. Besides, I'm not completely out of commission. I may not be able to get up, but – '
McCoy chose not to challenge the captain on that issue, because he knew that at least for now, Jim was unwell enough not to defy his medical orders.
'How are you feeling this morning?' he asked, running his scanner up and down over the captain's chest. 'And no fish stories. My tricorder doesn't lie.'
'Then why ask, Bones? Tired. Short of breath. Sore. Fed up.'
'You don't have any business being fed up,' McCoy said gruffly. 'You've got plenty of work to do getting better. I can't be spending all my morning watching over you, you know.'
Jim laughed, and then winced again at the pain that caused him.
'No laughing,' McCoy said in a mock-stern voice. 'I'll get someone to bring you over some breakfast, Jim. I need to go on the rest of my rounds, though.'
'I don't expect you to sit here and nursemaid me,' the captain replied. 'I don't expect Spock to either – but it would be nice to see him occasionally. Whenever he's here I'm asleep and whenever I wake up and he's here, he's asleep. Can you tell him to come report to me, Bones?'
'No,' McCoy said firmly. 'I've told him not to report to you. You don't need it, Jim. Spock's in acting command, and he's fine. He's doing a brilliant job, very efficient, very logical, just as you'd expect him to.'
He saw a stubborn look come over the captain's face, but even as his muscles tensed he settled back onto the mattress again, unable to even begin to rise. McCoy knew how frustrating this was for him. The indignity of bed baths, the painful business of a makeshift chamber pot, the helplessness of not being able to help in a situation when so much help was needed. But he was afraid that as soon as Jim opened a wedge into the business of getting back into command, he'd be issuing orders from his sick bed and working himself up to a state that might kill him. He didn't have the resources here to combat that if it happened.
'Just get better,' he said firmly. 'I'll make sure someone brings you breakfast. Rest. That's a medical order.'
'Yes, sir,' Jim murmured. There was a light in his eyes as he spoke, but the doctor wasn't sure if it were the twinkle of humour or of suppressed rebellion.
He got up, trying to bring a Vulcan-like discipline to bear against the aches in his knees and spine, and walked away. The morning rounds didn't take too long. Most of the casualties were stable. A couple needed to wait until they were stronger before he could work on them. One had died in the night, despite the best efforts of the nurses and Dr Thompson, and was covered in a sheet, awaiting the chance for some kind of disposal. In this situation, unfortunately, the best kind of disposal was complete disintegration with a phaser blast, and a quiet service. There was no way to bury the dead in this concrete jungle, and decaying bodies would only bring pests and disease. He had spoken to a few natives about their traditions and it seemed cremation was a quite acceptable alternative. They had, at least, agreed that disintegration was close enough to that tradition to serve.
Outside the rain was still drumming down. It was a blessed relief, though, to be able to lower the dust cloths and just go about his business breathing freely. He caught sight of Christine standing at a blasted out window watching the rain as he turned back inside.
'Hey, Chris, morning briefing,' he called.
She turned and smiled.
'Seen Spock?' he asked.
'I'm sure he's already in there,' she said. She cast her eye over the patients, then followed the doctor into the little room they reserved for briefings in the morning, and for any kind of R&R as they managed to grab at any other time of day. As expected, Spock was already there, sitting at the head of a battered table with his hands folded in front of him.
'Ah, Doctor, Nurse,' he said. He waited a moment until there was the sound of footsteps outside, and the highest ranking security officer, Lieutenant Commander Ndiaye, came into the room.
'I'm sorry, sir,' he said quickly. He offered no excuse for his slight lateness, which McCoy knew Spock would find more satisfying than a litany of excuses.
'No matter,' Spock said briefly.
'I found a whole cache of food supplies, though, sir!' the man said excitedly. 'Gietz and Tomlinson are fetching them now. I carried back enough for this morning's breakfast.'
'You did, of course, check that the supplies were abandoned?' Spock asked rather critically.
'Of course, sir,' the man nodded. 'Scans showed they hadn't been touched in two months. They were under rubble. Tins, mostly, some dried stuff.'
Spock nodded. A human commander would have offered a well done, or excellent work. Spock believed the action spoke for itself and did not need praise.
'Good work, Commander,' McCoy murmured in lieu of Spock's ungiven praise.
The lieutenant commander flashed him a quick look of gratitude, but Spock was obviously waiting to begin. If he had had a sheaf of papers, he would have been shuffling them.
'Stardate 2364.1. Week six, day three,' he said without preamble. 'We have not had contact with the Enterprise in four weeks and two days. We have lost three of our original landing party, including Lieutenant Accardi, sciences, yesterday.'
Everyone's head bowed momentarily in acknowledgement of that fact. Everyone's but Spock's, who stayed looking straight ahead.
'We still have our two doctors and five nurses,' Spock continued, 'along with seven security personnel, two of whom are wounded, and the Captain, who is wounded.'
McCoy clenched his fists under the table, resisting the urge to tell Spock to get a move on. He went through this dry roll call every day.
'Dr McCoy, how many patients do we currently have under our care?' Spock asked.
The doctor leant back in his chair. 'Well, there's Jim and the two ensigns, like you say, Spock. There's that poor woman we brought in last yesterday. I hope she might be able to – '
'Just the numbers, Doctor,' Spock said, a little sharply.
McCoy looked at him in surprise. 'Three of our own, seven critical or severely injured, fourteen with less severe injuries,' he said in a level voice, glancing down at his tricorder to confirm. 'I hope to be able to discharge – um – seven to eight of them today, especially if we can give them a good meal first.'
'I'm not sure about the young male – Arfin, I think his name was,' Christine put in. 'He has a fever.'
'Yeah, I was thinking of him,' McCoy confirmed. 'But the others should be fine to leave.'
'And where will they go?' Spock asked, surprising the doctor again with his veering from logic to a tone of wistfulness.
The doctor shrugged, assuming that although the question had sounded rhetorical, with Spock it wouldn't be.
'I don't know, Spock. Wherever they can go, I suppose.'
Spock sat in silence for a moment, gazing down at his tricorder. Then he looked up and continued.
'Lieutenant Commander Ndiaye, your security input, please.'
'Well, we've got hardly any intelligence to work on,' Ndiaye said rather apologetically. 'We've got largely C.C.G. territory to the east of us, W.C.G. to the west. The W.C.G. seem to have increased their fire power in recent days. I'm getting reports of increased use of missiles and cluster bombs.'
'Yes,' Spock said musingly. 'I'm concerned that this may mean we need to evacuate.'
McCoy groaned. 'Spock, I have seven severely ill patients – Jim included. What evacuation would do for them – '
'Rest assured, Doctor, evacuation would have a far less harmful effect than a cluster bomb,' Spock said rather tersely.
McCoy linked his fingers behind the back of his neck and stretched back against them. He couldn't argue with Spock. He was right. It was possible that some of the patients would die if they evacuated, but that was against a certainty of death if they were subject to an assault.
'There may be a hospital some way to the east, if we can trust our information,' Spock continued. 'Possibly as few as five miles.'
'Five miles in these conditions could be fifteen along safe roads,' McCoy pointed out cynically.
'Or five days of travel with hard labour removing obstacles and detecting explosives,' Spock agreed soberly. 'I fully understand the difficulties of removal, Doctor. Now. We have had no success in getting any reliable news on the conflict. There are no broadcasts that we have been able to pick up.'
'And no contact with the Enterprise,' Christine commented quietly.
'No, we still haven't been able to make contact with any Starfleet vessel,' Spock confirmed. 'This area of space is infrequently patrolled. We're very far out.'
'We all know that,' McCoy muttered. 'That's why the Romulans are sniffing round like a dog at a rabbit warren...'
'A colourful simile,' Spock said, 'but essentially accurate. It is entirely possible that no Starfleet ship can get through their blockade, if they have set one up.'
'Is there much more to do here, Spock?' McCoy said, suddenly weary. 'I've got patients that need to be seen to. And I haven't had breakfast yet.'
Spock's expression softened for a moment. 'We are almost finished, Doctor,' he assured him. 'Orders for today include the usual. Parties are to move out looking for food. I don't want you to deliberately search for casualties, Doctor. Do you understand?'
'I understand,' McCoy said reluctantly. He knew they didn't have the resources to keep bringing in patients. But damn it, they'd come down here to help, and it went against everything he had ever learnt and stood for to ignore people in need.
'Doctor, if you feel you can't go out without bringing back patients, then stay here and attend to the ones you already have,' Spock said, his voice soft but firm. 'Is that understood?'
'Yes, Spock. Yes, it's understood,' the doctor said with a hint of impatience. He half wanted to mention that recently it was Spock bringing in most of the patients, but he didn't think it would be appreciated, and he knew that Spock would have an annoying but perfectly logical rebuff. 'Now, can I go get breakfast?'
'You can go get breakfast, Doctor,' Spock nodded. 'Lieutenant Commander Ndiaye, Nurse Chapel, you're both dismissed.'
Despite his complaints, McCoy waited for a moment after the other two had left.
'I thought you were hungry, Doctor?' Spock said, softly needling.
'Have you eaten this morning, Spock?' he asked pointedly.
Spock drew a bedraggled weed out of his pocket and looked at it.
'That is not breakfast,' McCoy said pointedly. 'If Ndiaye found some stores, you need to share in them.'
'After the patients have eaten,' Spock said firmly.
'Spock – '
'After the patients,' Spock repeated. 'Doctor, I would like to talk with Jim.'
McCoy sat regarding the Vulcan. This was the first time Spock had phrased the request in quite that way.
'Talk to him,' he said. 'Not brief him? Not get him worried about resources and tactics and all those things?'
'No, Doctor,' Spock said. 'Just talk to him.'
McCoy considered for a minute, then nodded. 'He wants to talk to you, too. Go on, then. But not for too long. Don't tire him. Don't excite him. Understood?'
Spock nodded, once. 'Understood, Doctor. Thank you.'
