"Severe concussion, slight cranial damage, exhaustion, massive weight loss, sleep deprivation," McCoy counted each item off on his fingers. He and the Captain were in his office, sampling one of Scotty's latest patches. Not bad for engine room brew, McCoy thought to himself.
Jim nodded wearily. "Treatment?"
McCoy shrugged unconcernedly. "Sleep, inactivity, food in him. I already have him on the most medicine that he'll tolerate for the cranial damage. He's been in a trance already and is now sleeping normally." He paused, then inquired, "What about those Romulans off our bow?"
"Scotty reported that as soon as they had finished beaming up the second party they changed coarse went about 200 000 kilometers and cloaked. Not a shot fired."
Bones looked at his glass, frowned when it revealed its empty state, and refilled it.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with your 'hunch on good authority,' would it, Bones?"
McCoy squirmed slightly. "I'm just glad my only patient right now is Spock and we'll leave it at that, shall we?"