3. The Need For Requirement.

"I hope that your questions are sufficiently answered," Dumbledore finished after yet more explanation on the wizarding world, after the three officers had expressed further interest.

"There's just one more thing," McCoy replied, glancing wearily at the Captain's hand. "Do you have any medical facilities?"

The headmaster's jovial expression was instantly replaced by concern. "We have a hospital wing which Madame Pomfrey organises."

"Any Muggle medical equipment?"

"No..." Dumbledore shook his head slightly regretfully. "Perhaps if you were to describe the problem, I could prescribe a solution."

"Ok," McCoy agreed easily.

"Bones," Kirk interrupted, embarrassment beginning to creep into his tone. "It's fine, really."

"Don't be stupid Jim." McCoy scowled at him. "We both know it's not."

"Can't you treat it with what we have?"

"Sure," McCoy retorted sarcastically. "I'll fetch a few twigs and a bandage and we're all set." He rolled his eyes.

"What exactly is the problem?" Dumbledore repeated patiently.

"Our bone head of a Captain managed to break his hand."

"Really?" The headmaster looked inappropriately interested.

"Apparently doors are too much for him to handle, especially when knocking."

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "If it is a simple matter of a broken hand then you needn't worry. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix it before you can say 'Mimbulus Mimbletonia'." He stood up, ignoring their puzzled glances. "If you will follow me..."

His robes billowed behind him majestically as he strode through the castle. The three officers followed warily, undecided whether or not to be apprehensive or passive about what else they would encounter.

It was therefore slightly, but not completely, surprising when a ghost with its head wobbling precariously hovered past and nodded politely to the newcomers, lifting up a hand to keep his head in place. "Hello," he greeted them in a pleasant tone of voice.

"Hello," McCoy murmured back distractedly.

Kirk, realising that McCoy needed shocking back into his usual, irritable self, used his elbows to dig him in the ribs. "They have moving stairs here, Bones. Take a look!"

McCoy spared the staircase a glance, his reaction abysmally poor compared to what the Captain had predicted. "That doesn't surprise me," he replied after only a few moments of speechlessness.

"Your reaction does," Kirk retorted, glancing at the CMO in concern, who regarded him with a faint hint of exasperation.

"Jim, do you honestly think that after the past few hours we've had in this universe I'd have anything left in me to be surprised?"

"So you'll be back to your usual, incredulous self by tomorrow?"

McCoy nodded, grinning at him slightly. "Should be."

Spock regarded the whole conversation with confusion. "Highly illogical," he muttered, returning his gaze to the route they were taking.

McCoy nodded his head in Spock's direction. "But you can trust him to be consistent."

"To act otherwise would be both illogical and inappropriate, Doctor," Spock replied.

After a few more moments which Spock and McCoy productively filled with bickering, they arrived at yet another large room, this time filled with beds and large windows to allow the light in for those patients who would be there for a long stay. A lone woman was bustling around, apparently preparing things for the students' arrival.

"Ah, Poppy!" Dumbledore greeted, moving over to talk to her, his small entourage trailing behind him, with the exception of Severus Snape who had returned to the Dungeons to prepare his teaching schedule for the following weeks. "I see you're busy as usual!"

"Someone has to make sure that these students get cared for, Headmaster," she replied distractedly, clattering around the room. The group followed. "I just hope that everything is ready in time."

"I'm sure it will be," Dumbledore replied with reassuring conviction.

Madame Pomfrey looked up for the first time, to see three unfamiliar faces staring back at her. She glanced between them and Dumbledore. "I didn't know that you were expecting guests."

"I wasn't." Before she could answer that, he ploughed on. "Poppy, do you happen to have enough time to take care of the Captain's hand? I'm afraid that I have rather a lot of work to do before term begins..."

"Of course," Pomfrey assured, turning a kindly glance at Kirk's hand, which McCoy was lifting up for her to scrutinise, since the Captain seemed reluctant to do so himself. "It should only take a few moments."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said sincerely, before turning to fix his gaze upon the rest of them. "Before I go, is there anything else that you need?"

"Affirmative. You have agreed that we may remain here, yet you have not shown us the location of our living quarters."

"Ah, I apologise...things have been rather hectic around here...I believe you can use the Room of Requirement." He began to walk away.

"Where is it located?" Spock asked after him.

"Go out this door," Dumbledore said, pointing directly ahead of him, "turn left once, right twice, go straight for ten feet, left three times..." what followed was a large description of their route, which Kirk and McCoy soon found, to their horror, that they forgot. They could only hope that Spock, with his Vulcan memory, would remember. "...and focus hard on a need. You can't miss it," he finished wryly, smiling. "Unless you do, of course." With that nonsensical statement, he left, leaving two faintly confused humans and one stoic Vulcan in his wake.

"Now, about that hand," Pomfrey said, beckoning Kirk over to a bed. "Do you mind telling me how it happened?"

"How would that hel-"

"Not at all," McCoy butted in, shooting an evil glance at Kirk. "He broke it knocking on a door," he crowed. "A perfectly innocent and harmless door..."

"Thank you very much, Bones," Kirk growled as Pomfrey attempted unsuccessfully to stifle her amusement. "The way you're going I don't think my reputation will last two days."

"What reputation? These people haven't heard of you."

"Spock, back me up here." He shot a pleading glance at the First Officer, whose eyes were twinkling suspiciously.

"Logically, Doctor McCoy's reasoning is correct; no one knows you and as such there is no need to agonise needlessly over a reputation being ruined."

"I knew I could count on you," Kirk groaned as Pomfrey finished examining the break.

"It's simple enough," she announced to the room at large, picking up her wand from the bedside table where she had placed it momentarily. She pointed it at the broken bones. "Brackium Emendo." The bones in his hand moved back into place without a hitch. "There," she concluded, standing up. "You need to rest it as much as possible for a few hours, but after that it should be as good as new."

"Thank you," Kirk said in awe, examining his hand. Madame Pomfrey smiled and then retreated back into the room to finish her work.

McCoy stared at the hand as they walked out into the corridor, mouth hanging open. "Wow."

Kirk glanced at him in amusement. "For a man who claimed he didn't have it in him to react, you're doing pretty well."

McCoy turned wondrous eyes to his Captain, mouth slowly beginning to work properly after the initial shock. "Jim, I need to learn how to do that."

"That would be impossible, Doctor. Even if you could master the spell here, it would be ineffectual upon our return to the Enterprise."

McCoy scowled at the impassive Vulcan. "Leave it to you to ruin a good moment."

"It was not my intention."

"It never is," McCoy growled, "and yet you're talented at it."

Kirk, beginning to get tired of their constant bickering, hastily attempted to change the subject. "Which way do we go?"

"Left," Spock answered automatically.

"Right," Kirk answered, beginning to walk.

Spock raised a mildly surprised eyebrow. "That is not what I said."

McCoy rolled his eyes at him while Kirk smiled. "That's not what he meant!"

"Then I fail to see why he answered using those words."

"It's a form of wordplay, you pointy eared hobgoblin!"

"Wordplay is highly illogical and has little use in our current situation. Furthermore, I do not comprehend why the Captain would attempt to confuse me for his own amusement."

"Forget it," McCoy growled, beginning to stomp away.

"Doctor!"

"What?" McCoy spun around, fixing the Vulcan with a glare.

"You are going the wrong way."

"NOW you tell me!"

Spock sighed ever so slightly. "I informed you moments earlier, however you appear to be either unwilling to accept my advice or suffering from short term memory loss."

"Let's just get to the damn room," McCoy snarled, satisfying himself with stalking angrily in the right direction.

They followed the Headmaster's advice to the letter, and before long came to a crossroads of sorts within the corridors, with three separate routes stretching out ahead, one going down, one going up and one remaining level.

"Now what?" Kirk asked, turning to the Vulcan for guidance.

"I regret that I do not know."

"What?" McCoy had turned to regard the Vulcan incredulously. "You have an eidetic memory, how could you forget?"

"It is not my memory that is at question, Doctor," Spock explained patiently, "but the directions which I was given."

"Why, what did he say?" Kirk asked.

"He merely instructed me to "keep going forwards". He gave no specification as to the level."

"Oh wonderful," McCoy sighed, moving to lean against the nearest wall and allowing himself to slide down it until he sat in an exhausted crouch. "We're lost in a castle full of ghosts."

"We are not lost, Doctor, merely temporarily disoriented."

"We're lost," McCoy repeated emphatically, "in a castle full of ghosts, Mister Spock, and no amount of Vulcan word play can change that." He allowed his head to fall back against the wall. "I thought things were going too well..."

"What do you suggest we do?" Kirk asked over the faint groaning of the physician.

"There are three possibilities. One; we could return to the hospital ward and ask for assistance. Two; we can each explore a different route, or three; we can simply estimate."

"I'm not going down one of those ghost infested corridors alone!" McCoy insisted from the floor.

"Very well. We now appear to have two options."

Kirk considered thoughtfully for a moment. "Let's guess."

"Jim," McCoy sighed, heaving himself off the floor, "if we guess, we're going to get lost. If we go back and ask for help..."

"We'll still get lost," Kirk finished.

"Not necessarily."

"You've seen how big this castle is," Kirk reasoned. "Even if we ask for more instructions what are the chances that this will happen again?"

"Do NOT quote the odds," McCoy barked when Spock opened his mouth.

Spock looked slightly put out by this. "I was merely going to agree with the Captain."

"What if those stairs lead to the room?" McCoy asked, desperate now.

"That is highly unlikely. There are still considerable instructions which we must follow."

"Looks like we're guessing," Kirk decided, slapping McCoy briefly on the back in encouragement. "Pick a corridor, Bones, any one."

McCoy scowled. "I can't see that it matters."

"Alright," Kirk chirped. "Let's go down this one." He proceeded to begin climbing stairs.

McCoy huffed up beside him. "You had to pick the most exhausting route, didn't you?"

"You could have picked a relaxing one," Kirk shrugged, grinning. "You should have taken the chance while you had it."

"You're insufferable. How far up do these stairs go anyway?"

"I would estimate," Spock replied, "that we have to climb, at the least, a further hundred meters."

"A hundred meters," McCoy repeated with a calm that he did not really feel. "Fantastic. I can hardly wait."

"It is gratifying to note that your attitude has finally improved, Doctor."

"Remind me to explain sarcasm to you one day, Spock."

"Very well," Spock acquiesced slightly dubiously.

After several more minutes of climbing even Kirk admitted that he was getting tired. "How much further Spock?"

"Approximately ten meters, Captain."

"Will this staircase never end?" McCoy grumbled, almost tripping over an undone shoelace.

"According to the usual laws of physics; yes." Spock stood calm and composed even as Kirk and McCoy struggled for breath.

"Good," McCoy panted, not even bothering to berate the Vulcan for answering an obviously rhetorical question. "I was beginning to think we'd somehow found a staircase of infinite steps." Spock, after considering the facial expression currently worn by the CMO and the tone with which the sentence had been uttered, wisely refrained from commenting.

"Ready?" McCoy nodded back at the Captain. "Then let's keep going!" Kirk began to ascend the steps with new found zeal. Only to turn around when McCoy yelled and began swearing.

"Do not let go, Doctor," Spock stated calmly as he grasped McCoy's hand. The surgeon was currently half immersed in the stair case, having fallen through a trick step, his legs whirling uselessly below him.

"Let go? What the hell kind of suicidal nut case do you think I am?" McCoy screeched. "I'm more worried about you letting go!"

"Doctor, I assure you that there is no danger in that. Please attempt to remain calm while I pull you to safety."

"Calm? I'm dangling a hundred feet above the ground!"

Spock sighed slightly, already shifting position to better support McCoy. "Doctor, your hands are slipping. I suggest that you endeavour to hold on tightly."

"Well whatever you're going to do, you pointy eared hobgoblin, do it quickly!" McCoy bellowed.

"Doctor, there is no need to be insulting. I am merely attempting to facilitate your ascent to the staircase."

"Well hurry up then!" McCoy roared, jerking in the air frantically as his grip began to loosen.

"Brace yourself Doctor."

With one almighty heave, McCoy was lying on the ground, spluttering as though he had just emerged from freezing water. "That was the slowest and most infuriating rescue I've ever experienced!"

"You are welcome, Doctor," Spock replied dryly, leaving McCoy on the ground and beginning to climb the stairs once more.

Kirk bent over to help his CMO to his feet, supporting him while he remained shaky for a few seconds. "You alright?"

"As good as I can be..." McCoy muttered, glancing at the stairs and sighing. "Let's get this over with."

Fifteen sore and tiring minutes later, the three officers stood at the top of the staircase, staring at yet two more corridors presented before them.

"Spock?" Kirk asked hopefully.

The Vulcan looked nonplussed. "This would appear to be the correct junction."

"Then let's go!"

"Just a moment, Doctor," Spock ordered, verbally bringing McCoy to a halt. "However," he continued his previous line of thought, "I do not recognise these paintings."

"What do you suggest?" Kirk asked, trying not to show the sinking feeling that was gradually settling upon him.

"Asking them for assistance."

McCoy and Kirk stared after the Vulcan as he walked casually over to one of the paintings and began to converse with it, as if this was completely normal.

"I think he's finally lost it, Jim."

"He must have a reason."

"You don't sound very convinced."

"I'm not," Kirk muttered before calling out; "any luck?" When Spock did not answer, Kirk beckoned McCoy to follow. "Come on."

They made their way over to where Spock was standing, eyes widening in slight astonishment as they came face to face with a medieval knight on an elegant looking horse. A moving knight.

"Then you take another right," the portrait was saying, his voice deep and heavily accented with ancient English. "You can't miss it." He paused. "The turning, I mean. I can't say the same about the room."

"Are there any notable figures nearby which we can utilise to locate the room?"

The figure seemed to ponder that for a moment. "I believe that there is a suit of armour nearby. Unless of course he moved."

"Moved?" McCoy repeated blankly.

"Yes. Moved," the portrait emphasised testily. "That's what suits of armour do. What do you expect? Anyway, if there is nothing else I really am late for my hunting outing..."

"There are no additional queries."

"Best of luck to you then!" He called, moving into the portrait next to him. "You'll need it!"

"I..." Kirk cleared his throat. "I...take it that the conversation was useful?"

"Extremely," Spock replied, already beginning to lead them down another corridor. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned that it may be useful to converse with the portraits."

"Are we getting closer?" McCoy asked hopefully.

Spock, to their general relief, nodded. "It would appear that our estimate was successful."

At Kirk's triumphant smile, McCoy rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Jim."

A few beats of silence passed before Kirk spoke again. "I think I'm beginning to like this universe."

McCoy shot him a look. "You're kidding."

"It's unpredictable," Kirk explained to McCoy's apparent disgust. "It makes life interesting."

"Indeed," Spock pitched in. "It has been a most fascinating experience. Further observation should prove interesting."

"Trust me to get stranded with you two," McCoy grumbled. "Your attitudes wouldn't change if we were getting attacked by a dragon."

"It would be a challenge," Kirk grinned.

"And I suppose you would relish the opportunity to observe a new species, Mister Spock?"

"That is correct."

"Then Lord have mercy on me," McCoy groaned.

"Don't worry Bones; we'll be back on the Enterprise soon."

"You can't really believe that."

"He was merely attempting to reassure you, Doctor."

"I can deduce that for myself, thank you." McCoy snapped. "It just isn't very realistic."

"It's the only thing we can believe," Kirk replied, fixing McCoy with his blue eyes. "We have no choice."

The other human seemed to deflate slightly as they turned a corner. "I suppose you're right."

A brush of air wafted past them, over their heads. "What was that?" Kirk demanded.

Spock lifted his eyes to probe the area above them, eyes narrowing. "I am not certain."

"Ghost," McCoy said.

"Bones, I think we'd know if it was-"

"No," McCoy repeated, pointing behind them. "It was a ghost."

A mischievous smirk was focused upon them, phantom teeth gleaming slightly as his lips drew back. "An elf," he sneered, bobbing up and down. "An elf and two Muggles."

"I am not an elf," Spock retorted, his voice slightly sharp.

The ghost snorted and gave a short, unpleasant laugh. "Oh really?" He darted to Spock's side and began poking the tips of Spock's ears with his fingers. "Then what are these?"

"Ears."

The ghost glared at him. "You're new here, aren't you?"

"Affirmative."

"Then maybe I should tell you now, elf; my job," he said slightly menacingly, "is to tell the jokes."

"Then it appears you are being negligent in your duties." McCoy briefly considered stamping on the Vulcan's toe for that comment as the poltergeist drew himself up.

"And," the ghost continued, "to wreck havoc. More can be arranged for you," he added, pointing at Spock's chest. "It is no trouble."

"Then what are you waiting for?" Kirk challenged, the exhaustion of the day making him dangerously confident.

This time, McCoy did step in. "Damn it Jim!" He hissed. "Don't antagonise the man!"

The ghost wheeled up higher, cackling. "You want me to make mischief!" He sang again and again. "The Muggles want me to make mi-schief!" He laughed gleefully, beginning to drop round objects that he had been carrying.

"Oh wonderful," McCoy groaned, trying to pull Kirk and Spock out of range.

"This way!" Kirk yelled above the commotion of what appeared to be a mixture of stink bombs and insults. "There's a door!"

He dragged the two fellow officers towards a nearby door, ignoring the childish singing emanating from above. He aimed to ram the door open using his side, and promptly bounced off of it, collapsing on the floor in a stunned heap.

"The door appears to be fake," Spock observed as he helped Kirk up.

"Correction," the ghost cackled, voice rising and falling without melody, "the wall is pretending to be a door, so it could knock you to the floor!" He sang, immediately making it obvious that he had received no musical instruction at all. He continued with dropping sink bombs, weaving in and out of them with ease.

"What," McCoy bellowed, running out of the way of another missile, "is the point", he shivered as the ghost flew around him playfully, "in fake doors?" He finally concluded, picking up an unexploded bomb and hurling it back at the laughing phantom, who dodged it easily. He immediately received a bomb to the face. "Why is this castle trying to kill me?" He finally spluttered to the room at large, dragging his hands through the muck in an attempt to free his eyes.

"I don't know Bones," Kirk chuckled, watching in amusement as his friend practically cursed the rest of the gunge off his face. "But you seem to have worse luck than usual."

"I don't see you getting hit in the face by those..." he gestured wildly at the stinking smoke around them, "things." He snapped, glaring at the other human.

"I'm the Captain," Kirk replied, as if that explained everything.

Another cloud of bombs resulted in one landing upon Spock's immaculately groomed head, and another on Kirk's shoes.

"My shoes!" Kirk looked genuinely shocked, staring at his feet in absolute horror.

"Well, now you know how the rest of us feel."

"This isn't funny Bones," Kirk said mournfully. "These were a graduation present from Sam..."

"Spock just got his hair mussed and you don't hear him complaining."

"Complaint is illogical," Spock replied automatically. "It changes nothing." His expression belied his words as he reached up to remove the offending gunge. "Although I do concede that the aroma is...distinctly unique."

"Peeves!" A voice suddenly bellowed. "Stop attacking the guests!"

Peeves' answer was to cackle and swirl around the newcomer, who appeared to be the same almost headless ghost that they had met earlier. "Nicky, Nicky, Nicky!" Peeves chanted, swinging around him again and again. "Always being picky!"

"Peeves," the new ghost repeated angrily, "STOP!"

Peeves pouted and sang for a while longer, but mercifully drifted away, apparently having run out of ammunition, leaving three dirty and bemused figures in his wake.

"I'm sorry about that," the ghost apologised, his eyes exasperated. "He's always creating havoc..."

"It's no problem Mister..." Kirk trailed off, unsure how to address a ghost.

"Headless." He replied. "Nearly Headless Nick, to be exact."

"Mister...Headless," Kirk repeated somewhat dubiously.

"Just call me Nick," the ghost smiled. "Everyone else does."

"Nick," McCoy spoke up, "do you know where the Room of Requirement is?"

"That depends on why you need it."

"We're visitors here," Kirk replied carefully. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned that we could stay there."

"In that case," Nick nodded, indicating the corridor before them. "It's down there...somewhere. You should find it opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy."

"How do we find it?" Kirk questioned.

"It only appears for those who have a great need. It's enchanted," he said by way of explanation. "You simply focus on the reason you need it, but you must do so whilst walking past."

"Thank you," Kirk said sincerely, as the ghost began to drift through a wall.

"No problem!" He called over his shoulder, only his feet visible before they too dissolved.

"So...we just think it into existence?"

"It would appear so, Doctor," Spock replied, already walking further down the corridor.

Feeling slightly foolish, Kirk followed him and paced opposite a suit of armour, reasoning that if they could move, they might telepathically hear his request and perhaps pass it on to the room. Thinking really hard, he assumed that it would not hurt to ask aloud as well. "We...uh...need a place to stay."

He waited for a few moments, ears burning slightly when nothing happened before the suit of armour, with an air of irritation, stepped forwards and pointed to a spot further down the corridor, shaking his head slightly as he resumed his place, staring at Kirk.

"Sorry," the Captain murmured, blushing slightly.

"Captain, I do not believe that it is necessary to voice our need. As…Nick stated earlier, the room should telepathically hear our thoughts and respond to them directly."

"Well," Kirk said, blushing even more. "I thought it couldn't hurt to try."

"Indeed."

They relocated, and Kirk walked up and down the corridor once more, thinking hard about their situation. Nothing happened.

"Spock?"

With a small sigh, the Vulcan began pacing, attempting to use his natural telepathic ability to communicate their desire. Nothing happened.

"Hmm," Kirk hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe it's one of those enchantments that are not obvious."

"How so?" Spock asked.

"Maybe you ask it telepathically to appear but instead of being a door, as you would expect, it gives you a brick which you push, to open a secret compartment."

"I consider that to be highly unlikely," Spock deadpanned.

"It was just a thought."

"You've seen too many spy movies Jim," McCoy snorted. He tapped the wall. "It doesn't even sound hollow."

"Alright," Kirk replied, unfazed. "Maybe it's one of those enchantments where you have to repeat the process three times." Both senior officers immediately turned to McCoy.

"No," the surgeon said emphatically. "I'm not communicating with a wall."

"Bones, we need to get in," he seemed to cast desperately around for another reason when McCoy's expression did not change. "Even Spock did it; it has to be logical."

"It is not."

Kirk gave him a look which had both exasperation and annoyance woven in together. "Help me out here...you could have at least said that it was logical on some level."

"Vulcans do not lie," Spock simply stated.

"In that case, I'm definitely not convinced."

"Doctor, if you are afraid of being seen attempting to telepathically converse with an inanimate object, I would advise you not to worry, as the Captain and I are your only audience."

"And we won't tell anyone," Kirk added sincerely.

"Alright," McCoy muttered, turning around to begin pacing, eyes never leaving the wall. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the effort with which he was picturing their need.

Slowly, a reassuringly solid and not fake door began to appear, and Kirk slapped McCoy on the shoulder in brief congratulation. "Well done!"

Spock cautiously opened the door and stepped in, stopping in the threshold. "Fascinating," he observed as he looked around.

"You know Spock," McCoy drawled, "you need to broaden your vocabulary a bit."

"My vocabulary is quite extensive thank you Doctor; I merely choose to use that word with more frequency than others."

"Yeah...well, you could vary it. At least a little bit."

"Very well. Highly fascinating," Spock replied, totally deadpan, stepping further into the room to allow the other two officers entrance.

"Very funny," McCoy sniped, turning to close the door behind him and making sure it stayed there.

Three beds lay straight before them; majestic and large, with individual curtains hanging loosely around the frames. Each had a bedside table with a Muggle lamp, the room apparently recognising their inability to do magic.

Beyond that, large windows allowed sunlight to stream in, turning the surroundings a deeper colour as sunset fully set in. Small puffs of clouds were beginning to crawl along the horizon, their blood red colour standing out sharply against the darkened sky.

Through another door a comfy looking sofa sprawled next to a coffee table where a set of pens were perched, next to a set of quills. The room catered to every need; a bathroom even being glimpsed through an open door, although bizarrely there was no bath or shower, only a toilet and sink.

Everything was richly ornamented and designed so that the occupants would feel comfortable; there were even pictures of their home areas hung upon the walls, moving slightly as the scenery changed according to the memory which it had been taken from.

Kirk allowed an amazed puff of air to escape his lips. "They really aren't minimalist here, are they?"

"Compelling though the desire may be, I must advise you not to touch anything," Spock said quietly, his eyes widening slightly as they alighted upon a meditation area.

"He's right, Jim. We're still covered in those stink bombs."

"I forgot," Kirk said sheepishly, moving away from the furniture and examining the bathroom once more. "Are there any more rooms? Maybe they have showers in a different place..."

Spock obligingly opened a previously undiscovered door to investigate. "Affirmative."

"Well what do you know?" Kirk exclaimed in light relief. "We come to a universe of magic and they still have showers."

"Just shut up and clean off Jim," McCoy muttered wearily, carefully sinking onto the nearest bed and making sure that he did not get stink bomb dirt on it.

oOo