"Life and death are seldom logical."
Leonard McCoy, TOS "The Galileo Seven"

Jim was dimly aware of the well-known sound of the comm. buzzer seeping into his dreams. It was an annoying sound. He was tired, exhausted, he wanted to sleep. Why were they bothering him?

Because you are captain of this vessel. That's why…. ah, dammit, forgot about that for a minute there…

Groggily, he sat up. "Yes…?"

It was the cute blonde from sickbay, but it took him a moment to remember her name… Chapel, it was. Christine Chapel.

"Captain, I am sorry to disturb you, but you are needed in sickbay."

"Huh?" Jim yawned. "Excuse me. What happened?"

"We have a… situation."

"Oh." There were a few standard sentences frequently used in Starfleet's internal communication that were portents of catastrophe disguised as regular, harmless phrases. This was one of them. 'We have a situation' could translate to anything from 'there is a rampaging maniac on the loose' to 'the world is about to end'.

"I'm on my way."

He arrived in sickbay less than three minutes later, maybe not expecting the worst, but at least some noise, commotion and fireworks. Instead, there was the dimly lit nightly hush of sickbay underlined by the dull but incessant whirring and beeping of various machinery and life support systems.

One of the compartments had been sealed off completely, making it a small, almost hermetically closed room of its own and Christine Chapel was standing just outside, looking young and insecure in the pale, bluish light.

"Who's being quarantined?" Jim asked, joining her.

"Captain," she acknowledged his presence. "It's Pike. He's had a relapse, if you can call it that."

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "We're not exactly sure. He seemed to be doing better, and then he suddenly collapsed. Dr. McCoy's working theory is that the slug's toxin wiped out his entire immune system and left him vulnerable to any kind of viral or bacterial infection. He must have caught something."

"On a starship?" Jim asked. "I've had some basic medical training, too, Christine; it's mandatory. So I know that's very unlikely."

"It's the only plausible explanation."

"His chances?"

"I wouldn't know. But from the way McCoy is reacting, they can't be good. He's freaked out. And it takes a lot to freak out McCoy."

"Tell me about it," Jim muttered. "Can I go in?"

She turned to look at him with some scorn. "I thought you said you'd had basic medical training? If so, you should know that you can't just walk into a clean room."

"Why did you call me, then?"

"Because somebody has to keep McCoy from going crazy if we lose this patient. We still need him to treat the other twenty-two."

She had a point there. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse. He blames himself." Christine Chapel shook her head, frowning with tightly pursed lips. "For a man this intelligent, McCoy is behaving surprisingly idiotic. He did the best he could do under the circumstances and apparently, that wasn't enough, but that's just part of the job. Bad things happen, and we aren't gods. I'm ten years younger than he is, but he makes me feel wise beyond my years."

"I'll talk to him, okay?" Jim said.

"Please. You're his friend. He could use a friend right now."

"Where is he?"

"Doing rounds. Checking up on some of the injured crewmen. That way." She pointed towards the left.

Jim followed her directions and found his friend in one of the adjoining rooms that had been turned into a makeshift hospital room after the partial destruction of the ship's original sickbay. He was bent over a monitor, checking some readings.

"Bones," he said quietly, trying not to startle the doctor.

"Jesus, Jim, shouldn't you be fast asleep in your quarters? What are you doing here?"

He looked terrible. Exhausted did not even begin to cover it.

"Making sure you don't drop dead and leave us without a doctor," Jim deadpanned. "Just looking at you makes me sick. Go get some rest, Bones. And don't make me order you to bed. I'd feel incredibly silly."

Bones shook his head. His blue eyes were tormented. "Jim, I can't."

Jim sighed. "Pike?"

"Among others."

"Is there any chance he could make it?"

McCoy remained silent for a long moment. Too long. "There's always a chance. In this case, it's a very slim one, though."

Jim took his arm. "Let's take this outside before we disturb your patients, shall we?"

"Okay."

Jim led him outside into the corridor and waited for the door to shut, before turning around to face him. "Now," he said. "Tell me about it."

Bones shrugged. "There's really not much to tell. The Centaurian Slug's poison wiped out his immune system, and now a simple viral infection is threatening his life."

"Is there no treatment?"

"There is, but it took me too long to detect and understand the problem." The agony in his look was hard to bear. "I failed him. I should have realized it sooner... I should..."

"Bones." Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "You are not God. No one expects you to be all-knowing and omnipotent. You are treating twenty-four patients simultaneously, some of them with serious injuries, with limited resources, no staff except Christine Chapel, and all amid the chaos following the destruction of Starfleet's auxiliary fleet and an entire planet. Nobody expected any miracles, and you worked several already."

He felt the doctor's scrutinizing gaze on him for a long moment. He seemed... surprised.

"When did you grow up and become a reasonable adult?" He inquired.

"Oh, I don't know - sometime between the destruction of Vulcan and accompanying Spock on a suicide mission to rescue Earth and our Captain...?" Jim suggested sarcastically. "Who by the way, is not going to die."

"How do you know?"

"It's Pike, Bones, for Heaven's sake! It's simply not possible. The man is virtually indestructible. I was convinced we had lost him the minute he stepped into that shuttle and headed towards the Narada, but no, when I get there, I find him alive and conscious enough to fire a phaser at a Romulan who was trying to sneak up on me. You think a simple virus would kill him? Throughout our time at the Academy, he was that larger than life hero, mentor, father figure, inspiration. He recruited nearly every person on this ship, trained them, formed them. You think he'd simply leave us? Have some faith in him."

"I wish I had a spoonful of your optimism," the doctor replied with a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Bones. Worst case scenario: He dies. What will you do?"

Bones shot him an unfriendly look. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. But I'm worried. He's not just any other patient to you... I mean, not that you don't care about your other patients, but he's..."

"The Captain."

Jim shook his head. "Technically, I am. No. I was going to say, he is a friend. Isn't he?"

"In a way, yes."

"So, what will you do?"

"Treat my other twenty-three patients and hope we make it back to Earth in one piece, I suppose."

"I think you're lying, Bones."

Just then, he found himself at the receiving end of a truly-Bones death glare.

Jim sighed. "Let's just hope he doesn't die," he muttered.

Jim felt absolutely certain that no other starship crew had ever been so happy to see a space station appear on its screens.

"Jupiter Station, this is the Enterprise, please respond." Uhura's voice floated across the bridge and for a moment, they all held their breath.

After a moment of static hiss, a cheerful voice responded. "We see you Enterprise. Welcome home." A red-haired, freckled you man appeared on the view screen. "Lieutenant Matthew Fickle," he introduced himself. "We were informed by Starfleet command that you would arrive shortly and be in need of assistance. Please state your most pressing needs, so we can proceed accordingly."

Uhura looked to Jim, who took the hint and a step forward. "Lieutenant Fickle, this is Acting Captain Kirk. Thank you for the warm welcome. We have several severely injured crewmembers and are in urgent need of medical assistance. Please have your chief medical officer contact Dr. McCoy to discuss the details. The ship has taken heavy damage. Repairs are under way, but our own resources are limited. Due to... uh... unfortunate circumstances we were also forced to eject our warp core. There is also a group of survivors from Vulcan aboard the ship. Ambassador Sarek will want to get in contact with the other survivors as soon as possible."

"Acknowledged, Enterprise. The Station Commander will want to speak to you in person once you are in transporter range, Captain Kirk."

Here goes..., Jim thought, sighing. "Please inform Captain Rasmussen that I am looking forward to meeting him."

"He's going to have my head," Jim prophesied darkly, standing next to Scotty and Spock in that transporter room.

"That is very unlikely," Spock replied calmly.

"Captain Rasmussen is Captain Pike's brother-in-law. Pike is currently unconscious and confined to a clean room in sickbay. And he might not come out of that room alive. That should be reason enough for some resentment, shouldn't it?"

"It would be illogical for Captain Rasmussen to blame you for Captain Pike's illness. In fact, it would be reasonable to assume that he would be grateful to you for saving the Captain's life."

Jim shook his head. "Go ahead, Mr. Scott."

They watched as two men and a woman materialized on the transporter pad. The station commander was a tall, broad-chested man of middle age and truly commanding presence. His pale blue eyes found Jim's face and he frowned ever so slightly.

"Captain Kirk. I am Balder Rasmussen, commander of Jupiter Station. These are my chief engineer and chief medical officer. With your permission, I would like to send them out to meet their colleagues immediately." His voice was deep and self-assured, clipped, but not unfriendly.

"Of course." Jim nodded. "Mr. Spock, Mr. Scott, please escort them."

A moment later, Jim found himself alone in the room with Balder Rasmussen, who seemed to relax his stance slightly. "Formalities aside, Mr. Kirk - let me congratulate on surviving the Romulan attack, saving Earth and getting yourself and most of your crew back alive. A rather impressive feat for a cadet freshly out of the Academy... especially one my brother-in-law would curse loudly and colorfully as 'the most reckless, obstinate fool I have ever had the misfortune to tutor'." His lips curled in a small smile.

"He said that?" Jim asked, unsure whether to be embarrassed or amused.

"Among other, less friendly things."

"Oh."

"So," the commander said. "Out with the truth, Cadet or Captain or whatever you are. How is Christopher?"

"Fighting for his life."

"Well, that's nothing new, at least," Rasmussen muttered, as if to himself, before looking up. "I take it his chances are less than good?"

"Dr. McCoy has teamed up with a Vulcan virologist, one of the survivors. According to them, the next twenty-four hours are critical. If he makes it through them, there's a good chance he'll survive."

The commander nodded. "I guess we'll wait and see."