Doctor McCoy was thrown out of his deep sleep with a jolt. He sat up too quickly and conked his head on the desk comm, causing an explosion of curses to pour from his lips. But all was forgotten as the sound that had awakened him repeated: a blood-freezing banshee wail of agony, coming from the recovery room.
All thoughts of sleep gone, he dashed for the next room over at a dead sprint. His boots skidded on the carpet as he screeched to a halt in the door of the recovery room. And just in time: a cold, savage, violent silver explosion rocketed past him at warp speed, swiftly seeking escape through the solid walls. He instinctively covered his head with his arms as the raging mist blew past, harmlessly vanishing through the bulkhead.
The scream cut off abruptly. McCoy recovered his scattered wits and looked up. Spock was on his feet, holding Kirk down at the shoulders. The captain was trembling violently, thrashing wildly on the biobed. McCoy immediately recognized it as a seizure of some sort, and ran to get his hypo.
McCoy grabbed the hypospray and snapped a vial of anticonvulsant onto the end. He ran back to Kirk's side, ready to inject ten cc's into him.
Kirk unexpectedly threw off Spock's restraining arms and staggered to his feet, then promptly fell onto the floor, spasming uncontrollably. His boot crashed into McCoy's leg and the doctor felt something snap. Crying out in torment, the doctor stumbled backwards and dropped the hypo, clutching at his leg in agony.
Spock concentrated, and for a moment his kironide power was restored. The hypo floated over to Kirk's shoulder and released the medication into his bloodstream. The tremors ceased, and Spock released his captain and went to McCoy's side.
"Damn kironide, damn those Platonians straight to Hell!" McCoy was ranting, trying to mask the pain in his voice. "He broke my leg!"
Nurse Chapel came in, alerted by the commotion. She immediately took in the sight of Kirk lying silently on the floor, McCoy half-sitting nearby holding his leg, and Spock looking simultaneously concerned and bewildered.
Chapel sighed. "Oh dear. Not AGAIN..."
~~~~~~~~
Five hours later, Kirk woke up. For a moment he just stared up at the ceiling, feeling too miserable to even move. His head ached, his eyes hurt, and he was fairly nauseous. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, fighting back against the pain and discomfort. It eased slowly, and once he had beaten it back to manageable levels, he opened his eyes again and looked around.
"It's about damn time you woke up," McCoy grumbled from the biobed across the room. The doctor was sitting up, his left leg under a bone knitter, and looking quite ticked-off.
Kirk managed to look somewhat amused. "What happened to you?"
"YOU happened to me, Jim-boy."
Kirk frowned uncertainly. Was it possible that he had hurt McCoy? If so, why didn't he remember it? He flinched away from McCoy's gaze, choosing to stare at the wall rather than look into those piercing, accusing blue eyes.
McCoy noted Kirk's unease, and realized that his joke had not had the desired effect. "It's alright, Jim. You didn't do it on purpose. I don't blame you."
"Sure." Kirk's reply was sarcastic, and he still was avoiding looking at McCoy. Now it was the doctor's turn to frown in puzzlement.
"What's up with you?"
Kirk shrugged, as if he didn't care. "Nothing. Everything. I don't know."
The answer was so depressed, so...un-Kirk-like...that McCoy's jaw actually dropped for a few seconds. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked at last. Kirk shot him an are-you-crazy look and then went back to staring at the wall.
McCoy decided that the direct approach was not going to work. So, he switched tactics. "The kironide's gone, you know."
Kirk nodded slightly, wincing. "I know." His tone was flat, mechanical, and uncaring. It was as if the dynamic starship captain had transformed into a complete stranger. "I can't feel anyone else. It's all gone." He shuddered, as if the very thought of being alone in his own mind was intensely frightening.
McCoy stared at Kirk in incomprehension, and finally shrugged. Maybe he just needs to adjust to being normal again, the doctor said to himself. After all, he's become used to that psycho-kinetic power...
McCoy blinked as a sudden thought entered his mind. Wait a minute...there was something about kironide that they taught me back in Med School at the Academy...but what was it? Ah well, it'll come to me eventually.
Turning off the bone-knitting laser, McCoy ran a scanner over his leg and saw that it was fully healed. With one last look at Kirk, he slipped off the biobed and left the room.
Behind him, Kirk sighed and shut his eyes, ignoring an intense feeling of dread and foreboding. It wasn't just a case of reorientation that he needed. No, it was something much worse...
Opening his eyes again, Kirk carefully sat up and got off the biobed. With a quick glance around the otherwise empty Sickbay, and a glance at the chronometer, he straightened his shirt and strode off into the corridor.
~~~~~~~
The gym was empty, seeing as it was either very early or very late, depending on your duty shift. Kirk selected his favorite corner and put up the opaque privacy screens around his area, locking them in place so that nothing short of a Red Alert could open them from the outside.
Kirk moved to the center of the room, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He focused all his thoughts inward as Spock had taught him, visualizing the Vulcan desert. He was like the wind, he was like the sand. He was lighter than the air, he was faster than a striking le-matya. Unwavering, Kirk visualized an opponent in front of him and began to circle.
