Chapter eight! It's late in the day, but uploaded, as promised :) Hope you enjoy!!
Kirk stood rigidly, his arms crossed and face unreadable as Alandria double checked her supplies. She wasn't carrying much – a tricorder was slung over her shoulder and a belt with pouches containing medicines and hypos hung from her waist - and he felt like she was facing down a giant with only a slingshot. Though she had assured him multiple times over the past few hours that she would be fine, he didn't believe her. She didn't even carry a phaser, and if someone attacked her, she'd be helpless.
"I'm all ready, Mr. Undill," She said to the transporter attendant. Kirk, Spock, and their security escorts stepped up to join her, phasers in their hands. They would be beaming down at the same time, though all but Alandria would be held in suspension until the Bridge sent word that the entrances to the tunnels were clear. Only then would the transport be complete, and they would storm the tunnels for Scotty and information regarding their facilities.
"Energize," Kirk ordered, and his vision dissolved into gold and silver swirls of light. All rational thought ceased to exist; he simply floated in nothingness until he suddenly found himself standing in front of grey steel doors. Swiftly, Kirk pulled them open and descended, leaving one security guard to close the door firmly behind them and stand guard.
"Do you think they have alarms on those things?" Kirk wondered.
Spock was already recording the surroundings with his tricorder. "It is best we do not dwell on such matters, Captain." he replied. "We will find out soon enough."
The staircase spiraled lazily downward until it disgorged them into an intersection of bland white hallways. The passages stretched onward to Kirk's left and right, branching off several times, but so far as he could tell the one directly ahead continued in a straight line. Kirk turned to his Science Officer. "Which way?"
Spock studied the readings on the tricorder. "From my calculations, Mr. Scott entered at the other end of the hallway directly in front of us. I suggest we explore elsewhere, in the case that the hallway concerned is being watched."
Kirk nodded. "To the right, then," he said, and the three began walking.
The walls were devoid of any decorations, save the lone door that, upon closer inspection, was revealed to be storage areas. Not having time to crack the codes on the boxes that lay inside, they moved on after confirming that Scotty was, indeed, not present.
They happened upon another intersection just as an Andorian was exiting another room, and both parties regarded each other in shock. Finally, the Andorian whirled to raise an alarm, but before he could take three steps the security guard shot him down. Gagging his mouth and tying his hands with fabric ripped from his lab coat, Kirk tossed him into a storage room behind a pile of boxes.
"We'd best hurry." Spock said. "It's only a matter of time before we are discovered."
Kirk nodded. "I'm with you on that one. Ensign, cover us."
Sheltered between Kirk and the Ensign, Spock was able to take his readings unhampered. For such a large area, he was mildly surprised to see that hardly any life forms existed on the top level. Most were stationary; only a few were moving, and they were in a different area than the Enterprise party.
"There is a staircase to the second level down this hallway, Captain," Spock announced after several minutes of fruitless searching. "I suggest we take it. Though it is more populated, there seems to be more rooms."
Kirk was currently looking into what looked like a washroom. With a grin, he pulled out a white lab coat. "What do you know? They left us presents." After tossing two to Spock and the security guard, Kirk pulled on his own, making sure that he had easy access to his phaser should he ever need it. In fact, there was a pocket that held the phaser well- it was as if it was designed with that in mind. Well, either that or holding a tranquilizer gun. He decided not to dwell on the matter. Grabbing another for Scotty and folding it, he tucked it into his belt and covered it with his coat.
Spock was more difficult to disguise. His ears were a beacon, so after some fancy improvisation involving socks and a belt, the Vulcan sported an odd turban-like hat that threatened to fall off at any given moment. Optimistically, Kirk said, "Well, that'll do it! Let's go, gentleman."
They descended the stairs, trying to look like they fit in with the sudden rapid-moving crowd. Staying close together, they joined the current, trying to watch what doors revealed what office, where the people were going, and what they were doing. Many of them had padds in hand as they traversed the passage, but some carried other objects, like glass vials, beakers, dishes, and strangely colored liquids. Spotting a door that read 'Records', Kirk motioned toward it; he and his companions veered toward the door, entering a relatively empty room lined with shelves and computer terminals. Spock uncovered his tricorder, connected it to the nearest terminal and began downloading the information. The ensign stayed on lookout, and Kirk wandered around the room, reading the labels on each terminal to see if he could find hints to Scotty's whereabouts.
"Stardate 223300 – 223320 . . . Stardate 223331 – 223351 . . . ah, here we go. Security." Kirk activated the terminal, and then began browsing through the most recent files. Most were video clips of the hallways, and when he found the one of him, Spock, and the security members entering, he deleted it. To his consternation a window popped up as a bland voice asked him for the code. Frowning, he said, "Spock, how is the downloading process going?"
"Well, Captain. I seemed to have found the main computer; the process of all files and records are nearly complete."
"Good. Hurry it up. Ensign, any sign of alarm?"
"No, Captain, all's normal . . ." The ensign suddenly fell silent as the door began to open. Panicking, the ensign launched himself at a nearby terminal, activating it and opening a random file. Spock's tricorder disappeared, and Kirk exited out of his current window, clicking on another file.
". . .until further notice. I'm concerned with the progress on Subject A-456, however. She isn't responding to treatment, and there are no signs of growth. If there is no change within the next twenty-four hours, I'm going to have to hand her over to Regency." The man seemed to be talking to someone via a comlink; he only glanced in Kirk's direction before activating a terminal a few rows away from Spock. "Yes, yes, I know. She was a very hopeful candidate. Perhaps next time."
The man continued to chat, and Kirk relaxed slowly. He had finally found the file that had recorded Scotty, and Kirk followed the camera's trail as Scotty was led down to the second level, unconscious, past Kirk's current position and down three more hallways before being thrown into a room. The man who had found him then waited until a group of three men arrived; he left the area, talking urgently.
Relieved that Scotty, at least, hadn't been injured, Kirk tried to see if his Chief Engineer had been moved since the video saw him last; unfortunately, the files ended at that point.
The man on the comlink was still talking. "Eh? Oh, right, him. I believe he was moved this morning. Hunter said something about transporting him to T-6 . . . what? He's been scheduled for testing? My god, isn't that a little hasty? I mean, we don't even know who he is . . . oh, well then, never mind. Send me the results, would you? I want to see how they turn out." He clicked off his terminal, and then exited the room, muttering to himself.
As soon as the door closed behind him Kirk spoke up. "I found out where they are holding Scotty. Spock, is the download complete?"
"Affirmative," Spock replied, turning away from the terminal. "All information is downloaded and ready to be reviewed."
Kirk nodded. "Alright. Ensign, get your phaser ready. You may need it soon."
The security member swallowed, but nodded determinedly. After making sure their disguises were still intact and Spock's 'hat' wasn't falling, they entered the stream once more and followed Kirk as he led the way to Scotty's room. For some reason, the flood of people had slowed down to an even trickle. Whereas before there had been a good twenty people around them before, there was now around five or six. It did not make the task easier; rather, they were more noticeable. Spock gained some strange stares as he passed.
Kirk turned down the hallway that held Scotty's room, and they pretended to be conversing over a blank padd that Kirk had nicked from an earlier passerby until they were alone. Pulling out his phaser, the ensign blasted at the door until it had melted, and pushed it open.
Scotty was nowhere to be found.
Kirk raced into the room, finding nothing but an empty bed and a screened-off toilet. Whirling, he said, "He should be in here! Where is he?"
Spock had entered with him, and said calmly, "It appears Mr. Scott has been moved. Are you certain that this is the right room?"
"Of course! I played the file multiple times so I could memorize it . . ." his mouth went dry. "Wait a minute. That researcher, the one who was in the room with us . . . he said that someone had been moved."
Spock blinked. "Ah. Yes, that would make sense. After all, they would have no reason to keep him here where we can find him."
Angrily, he clenched his hands. "We were so close, dammit!"
"All is not lost, Captain. After all, I have the files from the computer, so we may be able to find a record somewhere that mentions Mr. Scott." Spock replied. "But we must leave. We have lingered too long already."
Almost immediately phaser fire erupted outside. Kirk and Spock both looked toward the door; the ensign was firing. "They're on to us!" He shouted. "Go on; I'll cover you!"
Kirk swore, pulling out his own phaser and leaping into the melee. Four short rapid bursts later, and their attackers were down. "Move it!" Kirk ordered, and they high-tailed it down the corner.
They didn't get far before running into another group. More shots were exchanged, and the ensign gave a cry as a red beam tore through his chest; he fell, unmoving, to the ground. Startled, Kirk froze in horror as Spock finished off the last of their adversaries. Kneeling down by the dead ensign, Kirk felt his stomach knot up and he just knew that he was going to be sick.
"Captain, we must leave." Spock said. Kirk nodded wordlessly, though he refused to move until he had slung the body over his shoulders. No one deserved to die in a place like this, and Kirk would not leave him behind. Even though it would hinder his aim, Kirk kept a firm hold on the young ensign.
The trip back seemed to take on a dream-like quality through Kirk's eyes as a mixture of adrenaline and sorrow coursed through his system.
His ears thudded with his heartbeat . . .
. . . a phaser beam screeched past his head to bury itself in the wall. . .
. . . someone shot at the opposing force, but he didn't know if he had lifted the phaser in his hand. . .
. . . the security guard at the door was yelling, firing at something behind Spock. . .
. . .and blissfully, all thoughts faded to gold and silver swirls of light.
"Get a medical team up here now!"
Reality flooded him, and Kirk suddenly found himself in the transporter room, kneeling over the dead ensign. The transporter attendant was already speaking into his headpiece, and Spock was waiting patiently by the entrance. A minute later a medical team rushed in, the doctor kindly moving Kirk out of the way before running a tricorder over the ensign's body. "Dead by phaser fire," he announced. "Nurse, prepare a table for an autopsy."
Whatever was said next was cut off as the doors slid shut behind Kirk as he left. Unevenly, he walked to the briefing room, clasping his head to ward off the sudden headache.
He had a few moments to gather his thoughts, not that there was much to gather. Only two thoughts seemed to be revolving in his head, one being, where is Scotty now? And the other reminding him, quietly, that it was his first mission. His first mission and you let him die.
Shut up, he shot back. Shut up. You were warned that this would happen. You can get over it. Over half your graduating class died a year ago, this is no different.
But it is. Those others weren't relying on you to keep them safe. You weren't their captain.
Trying to ignore the voice in his head, Kirk pushed the button on the desk. "Kirk to Uhura. Has Stephenson returned?"
There was only a slight pause. "No, Captain. She is not scheduled to return until another hour."
"Contact her and tell her to cut the tour short, and come to the briefing room as soon as she beams back aboard. You and Spock come as well. There's some information that we need to look at." A part of him wished his voice would sound as hurt as his soul. But no, it was as calm and steady as ever. Despite the fact that one of his crew members had just died, he was still exuding confidence and control. Was this what he would one day become? A robot, unfeeling of anything, only alive for the glory of command?
Suddenly, Jim Kirk felt very, very scared.
Uhura and Spock arrived shortly, both quiet. Spock must have told Uhura about the dead ensign, because for once Uhura made no comment, only gave him a reassuring look as she sat down beside her lover. Kirk didn't meet her gaze. If he looked at her now, he wasn't so sure he would continue to look so professional.
His struggle only increased when Alandria entered, looking expectant. "Well? Did you find him?" She asked, smiling. It faded when she received no answer. "What happened?" She demanded.
"Mr. Scott has been moved to a new location." Spock answered when it was clear Kirk would not respond. "Though I have gathered information regarding the activities of the tunnels, we have yet to see if any of them mention the engineer."
Alandria took a seat across from her Captain. "Let's look through them. The sooner we do so, the better."
Spock complied, hooking the tricorder into the computer terminal. After a few clicks, the computer projected the recordings onto the wall, and Spock filed through them.
At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Expenses, rosters, schedules . . . Spock flicked through them quickly, but suddenly stopped when Alandria said, "Wait."
What seemed to be a doctor's report showed up on the screen, and Alandria read it, her face tightening. "Computer, pull up additional files regarding current subject," She said.
The computer complied, and soon a series of pictures began appearing. At first, they showed a normal human with Asian features staring at them in confusion. Then, slowly, the person began changing.
It was first evident in the skin. They began to have a greenish tint, with sores breaking out around their mouth. Then wrinkles appeared as they aged within days, going from their early twenties to late nineties in seconds. By the time it showed the final picture, they were unrecognizable, with growths sprouting all over their body and no hair to speak of. According to the dates on the photos, it had happened in the span of three weeks.
Similar files were found, all with the subject aging and changing rapidly and dying in a few weeks time. Sickened, yet unable to turn away, all four watched as incident after incident appeared, faded, and was replaced.
"Stop," Uhura said, sounding strangled. "I can't look anymore."
Spock, looking far more emotional than he ever had before, cleared his throat. "Computer, locate and display any records concerning crewmember Montgomery Scott."
The computer whirred, and soon a single screen flashed in what seemed to be an email. It was a long correspondence and full of technical jargon over experiments that only Alandria and perhaps Spock understood, but Scotty was mentioned toward the end.
"As for the intruder, he finally spoke today. I learned that his name was Montgomery Scott, and that he was an officer for Starfleet. I turned him over to Hunter. He would have more use with him than I would."
Silence descended upon the group. As each struggled to face the fact that their individual hopes had been shattered in different ways, Alandria finally said, "Computer, locate files concerning Hunter."
Suddenly, a flood of images appeared, and Spock commented, "It appears that more detailed examination is required. Captain, if I may, I'd like to look through them as soon as I am able."
"Start right now," Kirk said, dully. "Uhura, what did you learn from Sopthern?"
The Communications Officer shrugged. "He was more than happy to give us the original blueprints for the tunnels, but warned me that they have changed significantly from the initial plans. He also asked for a conference with you as soon as you returned. I have a feeling that he's hiding something, Captain. I think it best if you talk to him soon."
He nodded. "Alandria? What about you?"
The doctor took a deep breath. "All is as it should be. In fact, it seems that the Medical facilities are the best equipped. All their supplies are new and functional, the staff is competent and dedicated, and I could not find a sign of neglect anywhere. I even spoke to a few of the patients, and their trust in the staff was sincere." Shaking her head, Alandria continued. "It confuses me. I would think that the hospitals and clinics would be in just as much disrepair as the other areas of concern, but that is not so."
"Maybe that's because the medical facilities actually have a purpose, whereas the others do not," Uhura mused. "The world's inhabitants constantly need medical attention."
Kirk stood. "I'll ask Sopthern about it. Everyone's dismissed."
They filed out, but Alandria grabbed Kirk's arm as he headed toward the bridge. "There's something else, isn't there?" She asked. "Something else happened down there. You look as though you've been kicked in the head by a horse."
"Feels like it." He replied. "Go down to sickbay; I'm sure someone will fill you in. I have other matters that are more important than a therapy session." Though Kirk hadn't meant to be rude, he found he didn't really care. At least, not until he saw Alandria's eyes flash with annoyance. Straightening, the doctor said in a detached voice, "Very well, Captain. I'm sorry I detained you." Pivoting on her heel, she marched away, her spine stiff.
There was no time to dwell on her hurt feelings. Kirk had a call to make, and a friend to save. Resuming his path to the bridge, Kirk pushed all thoughts of Alandria aside and focused on what he was going to ask Sopthern.
/////////////
Waking up in an unknown room is a daunting experience for anyone, especially when the last thing you remember was that you were scared of something. This was especially true for McCoy, whose first instinct when he found himself in a hospital bed was to yell at whoever he laid eyes on.
Fortunately for the scarce doctors and nurses at the station, they weren't around. So instead of feeding his fear and uncertainty into yells, McCoy was left with his second option: get out.
After looking up at the readings the biobed was displaying and satisfied that nothing was going to stop functioning should he leave, he proceeded to sit up and remove the various equipment attached to him after seeing what they were and what they were doing. The device that recorded brain waves? It could go. The IV? Gone as well. Standing, McCoy noticed with a detached interest that he was dressed in nothing but a blue hospital gown, which covered all the private bits of his anatomy but not much else. Not that he really cared. Having been in worse predicaments McCoy thought that this was a walk in the park.
He hadn't taken two steps when the door to his room opened, and a nurse gave a startled cry when she saw her patient up and walking with a dark expression. Hands fluttering, she stammered, "Please, sir, get back in bed! You're still recovering from exposure to a cyanide compound."
Rolling his eyes, McCoy pushed past her. "I feel fine, and I know better than anyone that if I didn't die by now, I won't die in the next ten minutes. All my vitals are operating splendidly, not that you had much to do with that, I'm assuming." He missed the Enterprise. At least his nurses knew when to leave someone alone. The brainless dolt trailing after him didn't understand the word 'no'.
"Where is my uniform?" he muttered. This wing of the facility was new to him, and as he examined each door he grew more and more annoyed. Finding a man who seemed to be in charge of this place, McCoy demanded, "I'm recovered, so give me my uniform. I need to report to my station."
Startled, the man said, "Sir, you've hardly recovered. Cyanide compounds take days to flush out of a system, and you were exposed for quite some time. If you'd just return to your room . . ."
"I'm leaving," McCoy growled. "I'll leave right now if I have to, doctor's orders or no."
"Sir, please, if you'd just calm down, we can talk this over."
"I am calm! And I don't need to talk it over. I've dealt with worse cases of cyanide exposures, and this is nothing!"
Throughout their exchange the hapless nurse had been fluttering like a nervous butterfly. Finally, she squeaked out, "Doctor . . .!" And both men swiveled to look at her. "What?" McCoy barked as her superior gave an even, "Yes?" Startled, she looked between both of them before whimpering.
McCoy sighed gustily. "Spit it out, nurse. I don't have all day."
She jumped. "Um, right, I, err, sir, I have errands."
The doctor nodded. "You're dismissed." Relieved, the nurse scuttled off. Turning back to McCoy the man said, "I believe I'm the qualified doctor, and if I say you're not recovered, you're not recovered." He delivered the speech with the tone that made it clear he believed that McCoy would listen. Sadly, McCoy did not. "How long have you been practicing, and where did you graduate?" He asked.
The doctor looked taken aback. "I've been here for two years, and I graduated from Kansas State University."
"Any prior jobs?"
"No, I came here directly after graduation . . ." He stopped when McCoy jabbed a finger at him. His eyes narrowed, McCoy said, "Listen here, kid. I've been sewing up bodies and replacing limbs before you were out of diapers. I have worked in five different hospitals, was the head of surgery in two, and have been the CMO onboard a starship for the past year. I was top of my class in Starfleet Academy, and despite using dysfunctional and missing equipment, saved the lives of nearly all my crewmembers during the worst catastrophe to ever strike the Federation. So when I say I am recovered, I mean that I am recovered. Understood?"
The doctor looked between McCoy, McCoy's finger, and the nearest escape route. "Ah, yes sir, I understand you clearly."
"Good. Now get me a uniform so I can leave."
The doctor was more than happy to leave the scene. Breathing deeply and trying to keep his emotions in control, McCoy leaned against the nearest wall. Wishing desperately that he had a mint julep on hand, he waited for the doctor to return with an outfit.
He didn't wait long. After handing him McCoy's old uniform, the doctor showed him to a room and hurried away, no doubt to a private room where he could recover his lost nerves. Silently McCoy dressed, not even bothering to seek out the medical staff to thank them. He would send a letter or something later if he got the chance. Exiting the medical wing, he paused a moment to get his bearings straight.
Though McCoy wanted to know how his lab was operating, he knew that he had to return to his room first to see if he had received any messages concerning his job. Hopefully, the room had been fumigated. If not, someone was going to have a very displeased doctor on their hands.
Luckily for whoever was in charge of the rooms McCoy entered a safe environment, but from the vase of flowers on his desk he knew someone besides the cleaning crew had entered. Picking up the card, all his negative emotions vanished when he read it.
Welcome back to the world of the living! Hope you get better soon.
-From all of us at the lab.
P.S. This is Lillian. If you look under your bed, there's a surprise for you. See you later!
Smiling, McCoy put the card down and went over to his bed. Getting down on the floor, he stopped in confusion when he heard an odd purring noise. Only when he pulled out a cardboard box and looked inside did he understand.
It was a white, fuzzy tribble, with a small patch of black on what could be either the head or the tail. As if sensing him, the tribble's cooing intensified, and McCoy picked it up, stroking the animal's fur. Another letter had been taped to the bottom of the box, this one from Lillian.
I found this guy in Juniper's cage when I woke up. Apparently, she liked the chocolate so much she gave birth to this little guy! I hope you like him. And don't worry about the labs- I'll look after them for you.
McCoy found that room had grown warm again. Smiling down at the tribble he held, he said, "Well, what do you know? That's a woman who thinks of everything." Putting the tribble back in the box and moving its temporary cage to his desk, he grabbed his lab coat and slung it on before turning on the computer. Clicking the message icon, he sighed with relief when the only two messages were the weekly update from Waters and rambling one from Yagel. Deciding he would answer it later, he made sure the tribble couldn't escape before leaving the room.
From the brief glance he had given to his clock, his shift was already halfway over, but he felt like going to the lab was the right thing. Not only was he behind in his work, but he wanted to personally thank his lab members. Besides, he would be able to do something productive. Hanging out in his room had appeal, but not much in the form of entertainment.
When he entered the lab, all heads turned toward him in a happy exclamation of 'Welcome back!' Lillian, who had careened around the corner when she heard him enter, gave him a tight hug which he enthusiastically returned. In fact, it would have been the perfect reunion had a disapproving Waters not suddenly materialized behind Lily's left shoulder. "Back to work!" she barked, and instantly everyone went quiet. After rolling her eyes, Lily passed McCoy a swift wink before returning to her station.
"I thought you weren't going to be back until three days from now," Waters said, eyeing him critically. McCoy resisted the urge to talk back. "I have a fast recovery rate, ma'am." He replied. "The doctor let me go early."
"Humph. McCoy, I'd advise you to keep a tighter leash on your assistants. I've heard them talking amongst themselves at least once every hour, and talking hampers productivity. Also, there is no reason for you to be researching as well. You are here to observe and control. You cannot do so while tucked away in corner of the lab."
"I'll take it under consideration, Professor," McCoy replied.
After another distasteful look around the lab, Waters exited. A relieved sigh followed after. "We never thought she'd leave," someone muttered from the back.
McCoy went over to his desk. "Arram, Gregory, Lillian, I'd like to see you for a second." He called. The three, after making sure to pause their machines, went up to him. "How'd it go while I was gone?" he asked.
They exchanged glances. "Well, let's just say Waters isn't the best supervisor in the quadrant," Arram said.
Lillian nodded. "When had questions, she would humiliate us of in front of everybody before demanding a double report at the end of the week. When we asked our neighbors, she fussed some more before moving us to a different area in the lab."
"Not to mention that all she did was sit at your desk and stare at us," Gregory added.
"How did testing go? Find anything . . . unusual?"
All three of them pointed to his station. "We left all of our findings over there, sir," Arram explained. "We didn't want her to get her hands on them."
Satisfied, McCoy said, "Smart thinking. Alright, let's get back work. Oh, and thanks for the present. It really made my day."
Lillian looked a little embarrassed. "We weren't sure if you'd like flowers or not. But since it was the only thing we could really give you, well . . ." She shrugged.
"No, I really did like it." He assured her, noticing that her necklace was buttery yellow.
They went to their stations, McCoy picking up the small pile of reports for reviewing. Seeing a pattern develop, he pulled out his padd and compared them. True to his suspicions, he noticed that the most recent batch was an altered form of the past faulty medications, only this time the effects took longer to appear than their original forms. After copying down the information he required, deleting the findings off the individual padds, and returning the padds to their owners, he grabbed a testing tray and returned to his workplace. But instead of running tests, he turned to Lillian and said, "The tribble was a nice gift. Maybe I should bring chocolate more often."
Lily laughed. "Oh, please no, at least, not if it's for Juniper. If I don't watch what she eats than we could very well be drowning in tribbles right now. They multiply faster than rabbits when there's food around."
Thoughtful, McCoy said, "Perhaps I can stop that somehow. I have the technology to do so right here, after all."
Lillian considered. "Alright. I bet that you won't be able to cure it by the end of the year."
"Deal. What are the stakes?"
"If I win, you owe me dinner every night for a month. And if you win, I'll owe you three favors."
He raised an eyebrow. "Three favors as in three wishes?"
"Do you have a better idea?" She asked, hands on her hips. McCoy rubbed his chin. "Hmm. How about if I win, you defer to my superior abilities and plead unworthiness?"
She snorted, going back to her machinery, but a playful smile tugged at her lips. "I like my idea better."
"Well, three wishes it is. How should I call you, genie? I don't exactly have a lamp to rub." McCoy asked, following after her. "Perhaps I should hold your tribble hostage, and whenever I need you I'll let it lose to wreck havoc on the ship. You'll have to go rescue it and I'll be waiting to claim my wish when you arrive."
"How about," She said, arms crossed, "you call me via comlink? Much more convenient and no innocent tribbles will be traumatized in the process."
"But that's no fun," He sighed.
"We have till the end of the year to figure it out," She smiled, letting her arms drop to her sides.
For a moment they regarded one another. McCoy, still remembering how it had felt when he hugged her, swallowed and said, "Well, work won't get done with us chatting."
Looking a little disappointed, Lillian agreed and resumed her tests.
He had fallen back into the routine when it was disrupted with the arrival of a bored-looking woman holding a stack of crates. "Doctor McCoy?" She called, and with a soft curse he went over to her. "Yes? What is it?" he asked.
She jerked her head to the door. "Gordo wants to see you. Something about making sure you were still healthy or something. Do you know where Professor Travis is?"
Assuming that was who the crates were for, McCoy responded, "I believe he works in Agriculture, though I'm not for sure. Ask Professor Yagel, three doors down on the right; he knows where everyone is."
She nodded in thanks and left. Looking over his shoulder, McCoy called, "Watch over everyone, Gregory. And don't let anyone else in unless it's me."
"Got it, sir," Gregory responded.
Well, on to have tea and crackers with the world's worst boss, McCoy thought. Well, maybe 'worst' wasn't the best term to describe Gordo. But he sure wasn't anywhere near as good as Jim, McCoy's Academy professors, nor Doctor Puri (McCoy had admired the man during the short time he had known him). Already planning to give Gordo a piece of his mind, McCoy prepared himself for what was likely to be a very short conversation.
...... that whole scene with Kirk escaping was a little awkward to me. I tried to portray that he wasn't enitrely all there, mostly functioning on auto-pilot, but now I wonder if I should have just stuck with the original plan and actually described more. Your opinion?
Please give me comments and feedback, even if it is just a simple 'great story. update soon.' Reveiws make me feel all warm and cozy inside.
Oh, and for some shameless advertising, check out my new story, Nude Beaches and Toga Parties. It's Girl!Trek, so if you like some twisted humor please check it out. I promise *most* of it will be silly stuff, but there's no harm in giving a look-see, is there? xD
