Hey, hey guys! What's up?
Are you happy with me for doing so much in March?
I am. And yes, that doesn't really count, but... whatever.
"Is he asleep?"
"Yeah. Finally." Took us five hyposprays, and that isn't healthy for anyone, but he's asleep, McCoy added silently.
"How long do you think it will last?"
"I don't know. I mean, we hit him with that stuff pretty hard. But I don't think it will last long. He didn't respond in the slightest after the first four. Four. Jim, three in one sitting is enough to kill a grown man! And we had to give him five!"
"So I bet you're keeping close tabs on him."
McCoy looked at Kirk as if he'd grown a second head. "That is a brazen understatement, Jim."
Kirk looked at the little child peacefully sleeping in the bed behind the glass. He looked so small, even with the sheets pulled back so as to avoid contact. He didn't even have a hospital gown- only a loincloth- again, to avoid agitating the sensitive skin.
"The good thing," McCoy added, "Is that now we can administer the medication without him fighting us."
As if on cue, a doctor entered the room. He applied some kind of lotion to the more affected areas, and quickly left.
"He just looks so small in that bed. And he looks so... Hurt." Kirk sighed wistfully.
"Maybe you should go and take care of some other business on the ship, to keep your mind off of it."
"Most of it is all done. All we have now is to wait."
"The engines? We haven't been able to move for hours."
"Scotty said it would take it awhile. It will be at least another day to get the warp drive up. Chekov and Sulu are struggling to get Navigation back up. Spock and Uhura- I have no idea where they are. Khan is coming-"
"And meanwhile, Aunt Martha, having taken a tramp through the woods, is lying in a ditch at the edge of town," McCoy said wryly.
Kirk gave him an exasperated look.
"Speaking of which," McCoy said. "When is Khan coming here?"
"He sounded like he was leaving right away."
"Took us about a week to get here- we spent a whole week at the station getting Mike all settled..."
"But we started off at a leisurely pace of warp three. He's probably pushing warp 8 or 9."
"In a shuttle?"
Kirk shrugged. "I would, if it was my son."
McCoy nodded. "Good point."
Several Days Later...
McCoy sat down in his chair, exhausted. They had finally gotten all of the patients to sleep at the same time. Even Michael was asleep (despite the fitful nature of the child's dozing). It was nice. McCoy was almost tempted to go to his quarters and get forty winks. But he'd promised one of the nurses that he'd watch Michael to give her a break, so there would be no winks for him tonight.
McCoy looked through the glass of the containment area. He was glad to be back in the Medbay. He still didn't expect to have to use the bio-containment room so soon.
Michael's injuries seemed to be healing somewhat. He was able to have a hospital gown, and he didn't need to be checked around the clock, anyhow. There were regular shifts. The lacerations on his arms and legs were still awful-looking, though they were currently bandaged up. He was running a fever of a hundred and two, and had been for the past day or so. But he looked better than before. Sort of.
McCoy sighed deeply. Why did this have to be so difficult? Michael was already something of a super-being. But having him being resistant to analgesics? That was just cruel. When they took readings, it seemed as though the drugs didn't even metabolize. Injections went into the bloodstream, and then his kidneys filtered most of it out. Ingested medicines did no good. Even inhaled drugs just couldn't affect him. Sure, it would be nice if someone was trying to slip him something, but it sure made a doctor's job harder.
Spock entered the room.
"How does Augment child fare, doctor?"
"As well as he possibly can, my pointy eared computer. Considering he doesn't respond to pain meds, and the circumstances of the injury." McCoy stood up, and strode to the observation area. "I don't like the look of some of those lacerations on his arms, though." Spock followed him.
"How so, doctor?"
"Well," McCoy motioned to the boy behind the glass. "Just look at it. They're like caves- broader on the inside than on the outside. Infection breeding; it could be rotting away, and we'd never know it. Our hands are tied. We can't do any surgical procedures or probes, because he doesn't respond to painkillers. He'd be awake, and he'd be able to feel everything. We've got to find something that can knock him out, and keep him that way." McCoy paused. "But with all the damage, and how he's behaving..." He sighed. "I'm concerned."
"Concerned?"
McCoy looked at Spock, and the gaze held for several moments.
"Out. Get out. My ward, my rules. And one of my rules is that we care for anyone who is hurt. Anyone."
"You misunderstand my intent-"
"And you misunderstand what 'get out' means. With all due respect, Commander, leave. Now."
Spock's eyebrow raised, and he turned on his heel and strode out the door.
"I really, really don't want to have to do anything that would get me in trouble with his dad," McCoy added softly.
Behind the glass, Michael suddenly sat up stock-straight and let out a horrified screech, and his heart rate and blood pressure readings went through the roof.
McCoy was in the room within thirty seconds.
He took a more detailed scan.
"Where does it hurt, kid?"
"My leg!" Michael sobbed.
"Which one?"
"L-left. M-my left leg!"
McCoy gritted his teeth. "Well, now- something new has been added," he hissed under his breath.
"Where exactly does it hurt- can you say?"
Michael looked up at him, heartbroken. "It... It doesn't hurt. I... I... I can't feel it."
McCoy tore off the light blanket that had been covering the boy's lower half. He deftly pulled the bandages away. It was a horrible sight to see. The odor was equally horrendous.
"Who did this?" He yelled to the scanty staff that had stayed for the night. "Get the idiot who did these packs, and tell him that his privileges as a medical practitioner on the Enterprise are hereafter revoked!"
"What is it, Doctor?" A nurse called to him.
McCoy was already donning his surgical wear.
She started to step in, then caught a whiff of the air in the room. Her eyes widened. "Oh. Right away, sir."
"Kirk!" McCoy shouted through the comm.
"What is it? I'm- err... I was sleeping."
"Please tell me that Khan is coming soon!"
There was a yawn heard through the line. "He's about a day away still. Why?"
"I think you need to get down here for this."
I did not plan this. It just came out that way. I entertained an idea, and it stuck. Do you hate me?
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