A/N: Several of you asked for disease and danger. I've got your danger right here.
He knows when the jig is up.
This guy, this anomaly- not as powerful as a certain dandy they'd run across, but twice as annoying- was done playing tricks.
He called himself 'Oberon' and looked like the Andorian version of an Old Earth jester. Bill Shakespeare would be rolling in his grave.
Well, Oberon had been making his share of trouble on the ship. He started with hot-tempered Scotty in Engineering, and working his way around. The poor Chief Engineer had found himself duped by the shape-shifting prankster. Though Oberon wasn't an all-powerful teleporter, he had a fair amount of tricks up his sleeve. That's why Engineering was now knee-deep in conductivity fluid.
He'd been to the Bridge undercover as well. Unfortunately, Jim had caught wind of the scheme, and managed to trick Oberon into revealing himself. McCoy had heard much of the exchange over the comm unit in his quarters. It had actually been his medical knowledge that blew the alien's cover: Only he and Spock knew that Chekov was highly allergic to aloe. While questioning the Bridge crew, the factoid had come up, and Oberon had been unable to answer.
But, the shapeshifter had escaped. He'd escaped and come after McCoy for ruining his fun.
"I sincerely hope this will teach you, Doctor." Oberon chided as he looped the sash around McCoy's wrists. The shapshifter was big enough and strong enough to overpower a human caught by surprise. Oberon had gagged the Doctor with bandages from McCoy's very own medical kit. Serves him right for treating wounds first and asking questions later. The shapeshifter had come disguised as Jim himself, seeking McCoy out to 'warn him about the dangerous intruder' and sporting a nasty looking cut to the forehead. Now, McCoy was pinned facedown on the floor with a foot pressed into his back. Game over.
"You and that pesky Mister Spock." Oberon tied off the knot and flipped McCoy back over. Now was his chance. McCoy tried kicking at his captor, but Oberon had a fistful of his collar and all the leverage. It was a simple move to release the Doctor and let gravity do the work.
"It's a pity you'll be missing out on all the best tricks. Your lovely Nurse Chapel won't know what hit her! And that Stacey chap really rubs me the wrong way. I'll get him, too. Get them all good. After all, who'd suspect grouchy but tender-hearted Doctor McCoy of any ill-will?" With this last, Oberon's form shuddered. McCoy stared up in horror at his own mirror image.
It was terrifying. It was terrifying because they'd let him through. Just like he'd trusted the fake Jim, his whole staff would trust the fake him. McCoy felt a shiver roll down his spine as he imagined his doppelganger getting the drop on unsuspecting Stacey… Turning a hypo on Chapel… He could get away with murder.
My murder, McCoy realized. Oberon-as-McCoy crossed over to the closet and rifled through. He pulled out one of McCoy's belts and returned. The Doctor only had to dread the idea of torture for a moment. The shapeshifter simply bent down to secure McCoy's ankles.
"There. Now you're all… what's your colloquial Terran expression?" The sickening smile gave McCoy another chill. "Snug as a beetle in a rug? It's close enough. I doubt your colleagues will notice the difference. How blindly you humans trust each other."
Oberon chuckled. "Still. I can't have you ruining my plans another time..." He eyed McCoy again. The Doctor felt his stomach drop. This is it. He's done with me. Already gave the Bond-villain speech. I'm through.
His murder was forestalled another moment. The chime to his door activated, and was accompanied by the crackle of the comm. "Doctor McCoy. The Captain has requested that I retrieve you. We need to discuss the security breach at once."
Spock.
He had a chance.
Oberon-as-McCoy glared daggers both at the prone Doctor and the door. Trussed up as he was, McCoy couldn't do anything so helpful as warn Spock of the clear and present danger. Oberon was pissed, though. He took up McCoy's tricorder from the desk and brought it back down hard. Over the ringing in his ears, McCoy heard some rather convincing swearing that would cover the noise.
"Just a second, Spock!" The shout pierced his awareness as Oberon dragged him back. "I dropped the darned… hang on. Hang on, I'm not dressed…"
Oberon tossed McCoy's limp carcass into the closet and slammed the door. The light was gone now, but it had been fading ever since the tricorder… McCoy's head throbbed. He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound. Please, Spock… Be careful. Don't let him get you too.
He listened hard and heard the door swoosh open. "Come on in, Spock, I won't be a second. Gotta get my boots on. What'd Jim say now? Did you catch up with the intruder?"
It was convincing. Very convincing. McCoy felt sick at the sound of his own voice lulling Spock closer and closer. Did the Vulcan even realize the danger he was in?
"No, Doctor, we have not. I do not believe discussing such sensitive material outside of the secure conference room would be advisable. You shall have to wait until we are all gathered there."
"Of course, Spock. I got it. Be right with you…" Oberon was giving the performance of his life. Just what I'd say, just what I'd be doing… If only there was something I could do to warn him!
McCoy wracked his brain for the answer. He couldn't say anything or move enough to knock anything over. That, and his awareness was fading. Oberon'd got him good.
He tried to think. There had to be something in the closet to help him. Outside, he could hear the shapeshifter finishing up his act. Soon, they'd leave, and McCoy would have no way to stop him. Frantically, he tugged at the sash binding his wrists. Maybe… just maybe… The knot didn't give an inch. McCoy'd only succeeded in scraping his knuckles along the wall, and that didn't feel good.
Wait. He arched his wrists again, this time aiming to make contact.
Tap. Tap tap.
Hope surged in him again as he began tapping furiously, praying those pointed ears would pick up the message. Tap tap tap. Tap-tap tap-tap tap-tap. Tap tap tap. Again.
"Doctor… Do you hear-"
"Aw, ignore it. Just the transponder in the wall. Been meaning to have Scotty come take a look at it. Blasted thing's been driving me nuts. Can't sleep a blink."
"Indeed? Mister Scott will be at the briefing. I am sure once this crisis is resolved, you may return to your… peace and quiet."
Footsteps. Away from the closet, towards the door. McCoy's heart sank. He'd failed. He'd failed and now his staff, the crew, the whole ship was in grave danger. Spock'll be the first casualty. Oberon is strong enough. If he catches the hobgoblin unawares… It's over.
The last of his strength left him. He didn't have the energy to keep his head up, so McCoy just let it fall toward his chest. Pins and needles started working their way up his legs, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He sighed, but another sound reached his ears then. A thud. The doors swooshed. Someone was dragging a body. Spock.
Panic surged in McCoy's chest. Oberon had been quick to dispatch the First Officer. Then again, the shapeshifter couldn't have such an observant and knowledgeable crewmember around for too long. Spock would wise up to his game and would need to be taken care of.
Footsteps. In his direction. McCoy felt himself starting to shake. Oberon was coming back to show him his handiwork. Would it be Spock- bloodied, trapped in a similar predicament to his own, or worse… Spock's corpse?
The door slid back. McCoy saw the regulation boots and squeezed his eyes shut. He'd rather delay the inevitable than face this horror head on. It would be too much. Not this. Not Spock.
Strong hands pulled him up by the shoulders. Dark shifted to light as he was hauled out of the closet and deposited in a chair. This wasn't a position for a prisoner. This was a spectator's seat. Whatever Oberon was going to do- whatever agony he planned to inflict- McCoy would have to watch.
"Doctor McCoy." The voice put a stop to his downward spiral. He dared-! McCoy opened his eyes at last, glaring defiantly at his captor. Oberon dared take Spock's form in front of him, what with all he was planning? McCoy fought the grey spots in his vision. He channeled his rage; all of his scorn and disgust into a glower that he hoped would get his point across. Oberon had gone too far. McCoy wouldn't give him any kind of satisfaction.
"Doctor." Hands, reaching for him. McCoy flinched back. He fought. He wouldn't do it. Wouldn't give in-
The hands pressed against either side of his face and forced his head to turn. There. On the floor: a body.
McCoy sagged with relief when he saw the garish outfit and the antennae. Spock had done it. His head dropped again and nimble fingers began undoing Oberon's handiwork. The bandages dropped o the floor, and Spock gently pulled him forward to gain access to the sash. Once the knot was loose, the offending article went back to join its owner. Last of all, the belt around his ankles. Gone in an instant.
Now, McCoy felt the adrenaline dying off. He slumped back in the chair. Spock stood quickly in alarm. He took stock of the Doctor's posture, slight shaking, and overall poor state. McCoy watched as Spock's hand ghosted over his forehead, careful not to aggravate the open wound.
"Doctor McCoy, you are injured." The statement was issued in the same impartial tone, very Vulcan in every way. But, Spock's eyes. McCoy caught their murderous flick towards the unconscious shapeshifter. Rage burned deep beyond the layer of unemotional calm. The mask remained intact, but the desire for vengeance broiled under the surface. Spock looked as if he could do real violence just then. McCoy'd never felt safer.
"Yeah." He rasped, running a hand across his throat. All that collar-pulling had done a number on his vocal chords. "Clocked me with the tricorder when you came to the door."
"You had already been incapacitated when he struck you." Another cold statement. Boy, was Oberon in for a world of hurt.
"Yeah. He didn't want me throwing a wrench in things at the eleventh hour." McCoy shifted under Spock's gaze. As good as it felt to be free, he was starting to feel self-conscious. It had been too easy for Oberon to waltz in and take him out. Was that next? Is Spock getting the facts ready for some sort of lecture?
"Indeed, Doctor? He seems to have underestimated you."
"Huh?" The warmth in Spock's tone was unexpected. McCoy looked up to meet the First Officer's eyes. No incrimination. No speech on how he should've been more careful, especially since he knew there was a shapeshifter on the loose. No blame.
Spock inclined his head. "I received your message clearly. The significance of the sound was not lost on me, however he tried to disguise it."
Spock got his SOS. McCoy had been so afraid when the pair left. Devastated. The pain of failure had been complete. But Spock had understood. Not a stroke of luck or a fortunate coincidence. It took him a moment to formulate a response.
"And you figured it out from just the tapping?" He was astonished, frankly. Then again, Spock was hardly one to believe in coincidences. McCoy couldn't help but stare back at the First Officer in amazement. Spock had single-handedly outsmarted the guy who'd had McCoy hook line and sinker. Not that the hobgoblin would call that much of an accomplishment.
"This Oberon is hardly a skilled actor, Doctor." Spock gave him one of those not-smiles he was so fond of. "Your mannerisms and personality are quite… unique. They are not easily replicated. Between this shortcoming and your message, I could come to no other conclusion."
McCoy's expression faltered before he broke into a grin. "Why, Spock, if it was anybody else, I'd say I'm flattered." There was a softening in Spock's features as he stood. McCoy was grateful beyond belief. Not only had he been pulled out of the fire, but he'd received a rare compliment in the exchange, it seemed.
McCoy took Spock's offered hand and leaned on the First Officer when he swayed on his feet. Dizzy. Bad sign. "Better get down to Sickbay." He suggested. "But first, let's call Security. Don't want this guy slipping away again." McCoy shifted back from the body. He was still uneasy. It had been simple enough tricking him the first time. Not gonna let him get the drop on me again.
"They are on the way, Doctor," Spock replied with a steadying hand on McCoy's shoulder, "I called them as soon as I dispatched the intruder. You are correct in your other assessment, however. I will contact the Captain from Sickbay once your injuries have been seen to." It really was a blessing. McCoy felt himself relax for the first time this evening. Safe. It was finally safe.
Moments later, Chief Hendorff arrived with backup. Spock helped McCoy to the door while Oberon was hauled off into custody. A force-fielded cell would see to it that he didn't get up to any more shenanigans, Hendorff assured him of it. The Doctor watched the stasis cuffs go on, and for good measure, Chief Hendorff hit the prisoner with a heavy stun. Perfect.
He and Spock took the corridor side by side. McCoy's head was spinning. He had a long walk back to Sickbay, but he wouldn't have to make it alone. Spock was there, alive and well. It was over. It was over, and by some miracle they had made it.
Jim would have a fit once he heard. Both the Captain and First Officer would be hard-pressed not to do away with the shapeshifter in any manner they found most fitting. McCoy would have to talk them down before either one did something illegal. Oddly enough, he couldn't think of a more comforting thought.
A/N: Thanks for reading. I'm going back to procrastinating on 'Leave It to Us' now. Ugh. Chapter Six is not coming easily.
