Inside the safety of his office, McCoy stared at the computer screen. His elbows were on the table, his head resting in his hands. He ignored the knocking on his doors and any comms from outside. All of his attention was focused on the loading bar in the center of the screen. Please, please let her pick up...
His prayers were answered when an image appeared of a Starfleet dorm room. "Hiya, Pops!" Joanna greeted cheerfully, an impish smile on her face. The smile vanished instantly once she noticed his expression. "Is everything alright?"
"Are you okay, Joanna?" McCoy asked, his heart thudding. "I need to hear for myself."
Joanna frowned. "As far as I know... why?"
"You're not sick or anything?"
"Nope. Nada."
At her words McCoy felt the tension leave his frame all at once, and he practically melted. He was so relieved for a moment that he didn't speak.
"What's this about, Dad? Why would I be sick?"
"Nuthin', it's nuthin'... I think some communications got scrambled, or else it's the worst practical joke in history. The way people were talkin' up heah, well, I thought you were dyin' or somethin'." As he spoke, his accent got thicker and thicker; a testament to his recent stress.
"Well, I'm healthy as a horse," Joanna assured him with grin. "Though I suppose I am dyin'to see you."
McCoy grinned back weakly.
Joanna flipped her hair and changed the subject. "But what about you? You seem tired."
At her words, McCoy stifled a yawn. "Well, I have been runnin' 'round a lot lately finishin' those physicals. We also had a beam-down today, and then this... mix-up, or whatever ya call it... definitely put some grey hairs on my head."
"Take a nap," Joanna said sternly, doing a very good impression of her mother. "The moment you're off shift, go to bed."
McCoy grinned. "Yes ma'am," he kidded.
Joanna smiled back at him. "Good. Now, I gotta go; class starts in 15 minutes!"
"Have fun," McCoy wished her well.
"In Linguistics? Not likely, but thanks!"
They chuckled and bade each other goodbye. McCoy watched his screen go black and stared at it for a few moments more. He sighed and put his head down.
What on Earth was going on in this ship?
Meanwhile, outside, Kirk still had a ship to tend to, despite the recent uproar in Sickbay. He was going down the routine safety checklist with Security Chief Giotto (who, incidentally, had heard the 'homicidal' version of McCoy's story).
Kirk rubbed his brow. It was difficult to concentrate on the mundane when his best friend was dying before his eyes.
"Are you alright, sir?" Giotto asked cautiously, watching his captain.
"Yes, Chief, I'm fine," he answered. "Just worried about McCoy, after all."
Ah. Ever the tactician, Giotto knew it was important to know more about the situation. Apparently Kirk was deeply troubled by McCoy's threat to his life. "Where is the doctor?"
"He's locked himself in his office. I don't know how long he's going to stay there."
Giotto nodded sharply, analyzing the situation. For now, the doctor was in one place. Good. He would be easy to locate. But should he arrest him? If McCoy really killed a man, then it was years ago (or at least, he thought. Nobody on the ship reported any sudden deaths). But the threat to the captain's life couldn't go unpunished. Yet Kirk didn't seem to want to do anything. That might be wise; with two kids dying light years away, who knew how unbalanced the doctor was? Anything might trigger him.
For now, he would have to wait, and plan his actions carefully...
