The rec room is lively tonight, which pleases McCoy. He picks out familiar faces among the crowd: Sulu and Chekov are having a fencing match, and he can tell Sulu is trying not to hold back; Scotty and Keenser are sharing a bottle of scotch, hunched over a low tabletop display of what looks to McCoy's unpracticed eye to be engineering schematics, and they're dragging and rearranging the images while having a rather one-sided argument. Uhura and Rand and Chapel--his heart skips a beat when she catches his eye and gives him a secret smile--are all watching something on a holovid that seems to involve lots of crying and kissing. He shudders at that and quickens his pace because there, in the corner, sits Jim Kirk, all by himself, looking a little forlorn as he stares at a PADD in his lap.

"Jim."

"Mmmm."

"Jim."

"What is it, Bones? I'm busy."

"Not too busy to be checking out Rand's ass. Yeah, I saw that. And she did, too."

"Yeah, and I saw you checking out Chapel. You've got to work on that goofy grin. Not cool, not cool at all."

Touche.

But he knows exactly why the captain is here. Besides Rand's ass, that is. He leans down to whisper in his friend's ear.

"Guess what? I'm your new excuse for being here. You and I are now officially having a discussion about ship's business, so there's no need to keep staring at that PADD, pretending you're working while you're secretly longing to jump into that swimming pool like any other crewman, when you know you can't do that anymore because you've gone and made yourself the freakin' captain."

Jim places his PADD on the table in front of him and glares up at his CMO. "Fuck off, Bones. And for your information, I really was working. Until you interrupted me, anyway."

McCoy flops down on the sofa next to Kirk and puts his feet up on the table. "Oh, yeah? Prove it." He slides his own bottle over in front of Jim.

Jim picks up the PADD and waves it under McCoy's nose. "Personnel requests and reassignments."

The doctor snorts and does a passable impression of Spock's eyebrow trick, which Jim ignores.

"I'm struggling with this one, though."

McCoy peers over at the PADD. "What's that?"

"I'm putting Cupcake in for a transfer--he doesn't know it yet--and I can't figure out which reason to choose on the form. There's no checkbox for 'He's a fucknut whack job.'"

"Cupcake--?? Oh, yeah, him." He pauses, and narrows his eyes. "You know, it's funny that you would mention him. He's down in sickbay right now."

Jim's face becomes unreadable. "Oh? Nothing too serious, I hope."

"Well, actually, it is. He's convinced that the computer in his quarters is talking to him. And not the way it's supposed to. More like...well, let's just say it's not exactly being friendly."

"Ah. He's hallucinating. Or is that a delusion?" Jim nods. "Either way, you're right, that does sound pretty serious, Bones. I'm sure you'll provide him with the best of care until he can be transferred to a more appropriate facility, though."

McCoy stares ahead and takes a sip of his drink. "Mmmhmm. Hallucination, for the record. Here's the thing, though: Spock checked out his computer and found nothing wrong with it. But there's nothing wrong with him--Cupcake, that is--either. Organically, I mean. These sorts of things typically show up on brain scans, you know, and there's nothing there. So I'm beginning to wonder if maybe something else is going on."

"Like what?" Jim furrows up his brow and puts on what McCoy has come to recognize as his Best Innocent Angel look.

"Well, while Spock was checking Cupcake's terminal he mentioned to me that he's also noticed an interesting trend in the main computer search function lately. Lots of anonymous queries about how to create remote AI bot programs and adaptive computer-based personalities. So I, being the curious man that I am, wondered if there might somehow be a connection."

"A connection," Jim repeats, and after a fleeting look of panic crosses his face he manages to look astonished. "You think--you actually think someone might be messing with Cupcake's computer? To make him think--?" He turns a reproachful stare on the doctor. "That's a serious allegation, Bones."

Bones sighs. "Jim, just tell me if I should dial back the antipsychotics. 'Cause if he doesn't really need them, they'll mess him up pretty quick."

Jim clears his throat and looks off in the distance for a long moment. "You could probdably do that, Bones. Yep."

McCoy has to push down the urge to reach over and smack him upside the head. That wouldn't do, not in front of all of these shiny, new subordinates.

"And?" the doctor prompts.

"And I'll...I'll take a look at his computer later. I'm sure if there's something wrong with it, I can fix it. No problem." He nods and pours himself a drink.

"And?"

"And?" Jim looks taken aback. "And? There's more? What?"

McCoy shakes his head.

"What, Bones? And I--" Jim stops, a horrified expression on his face. "I apologize?" he whispers.

"No, Jim, of course not." McCoy rolls his eyes. "For once, that is not the right thing to do. Not if you value your captaincy."

"Okay. Good." He thinks for a moment, then groans. "Help me out here, Bones."

McCoy gives him a pitying look. "And then you delete that file--" he points at the PADD, "and start a new one."

"I do? I do." He taps his stylus against the arm of the sofa. "Because I want him to go somewhere, anywhere...no, not just anywhere. Where do I want him to go?" he muses, and looks up at the ceiling, arms behind his head. "Any ideas? What are you staring at, Bones?"

The doctor tips his head toward the low table. "Those two. That's who I'm looking at. Now that they're here, seems to me that there might be an outpost on Delta Vega in dire need of some security, what with all the draculas and whatchamacallits. I wonder if those things like cupcakes."

"Drakoulias. And hengrauggi," Jim says automatically, then looks at his friend with new respect. "That's evil, Bones."

McCoy sips his drink again. "I'm just a country doctor, Jim. I don't have an evil bone in my body."

"Well, I love it. I love you, but I'll kill you if you ever repeat that. Off to Delta Vega for Cupcake, then." His expression turns thoughtful. "You know, I think this is going to work out just fine."

A slow smile spreads across McCoy's face. "Yep. I think you're right, kid. You're gonna be just fine."