Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, if I had a buck for every time I wrote that I could buy Star Trek…well, no, probably not. But I could definitely afford tickets to see "Nemesis!"
Everyone in general: So glad you liked seeing our dear characters get online. They may do that again eventually, though not for a few chapters at least…if they do, we can be sure Kirk will have further fits about his death. ^_^ heehee
I'm beginning to think these stories are becoming dangerous…between falling out of chairs, rolling around on the floor, laughing heads off, choking laughing, hurting something laughing…you guys be careful out there! Seatbelts might be an excellent idea…
Meredith: It would be interesting to hear the Random Guy's name…an ancient spirit baked a cake? Oookay… Flooding the Mess Hall with orange juice. Hmm.
Elf/VampireVulcan/Jedi/Saiyan: This may become complicated, so bear with me…I've got two Star Trek series I'm writing here: How Would They React and Stella, Chicken Noodle Soup, etc. React is closer to being serious (closer, though not actually serious, obviously) and within this story chicken noodle soup does not intoxicate Vulcans. In my other stories…it most definitely does! Does this make sense? Probably not. But hey, where's the fun in being rational?
Stargazer: Aren't we all devoid of ego…(except Kirk)?
At last, Chapter twelve (thanks for the suggestion Meredith!). So…how would they react to getting stranded in a turbolift?
Part 12:
Enclosed Encounters
Still en route to that same planet:
McCoy stepped onto the turbolift. "Bridge," he ordered. For a doctor, he spent a lot of time on the bridge. This particular time, he had a legitimate medical reason for going to the bridge. Kirk had been avoiding his annual medical check-up for two weeks, and had completed ignored the twelve memos from the medical staff telling him that fact. When Kirk finally wound up on the Captain's disciplinary list for failure to appear, McCoy decided it was time he took this into his own hands. So he was going to the bridge, to inform Kirk personally that he had just better get himself down to Sickbay today, or else.
The turbolift slowed and stopped too soon for it to be the bridge. The doors opened on another corridor, identical to the last corridor, except this one had Spock in it.
Spock nodded to McCoy. "Doctor McCoy. Is this turbolift going to the bridge?"
"It was until it stopped here."
"Good." Spock stepped onto the turbolift, which resumed its journey.
"So how've you been lately, Spock?" McCoy asked pleasantly.
"You last spoke to me yesterday afternoon. It is very unlikely there have been any substantial changes since then."
McCoy rolled his eyes, and hid a smile.
The turbolift slowed and stopped again, opening on yet another non-descript corridor. This one had Ensign Jones in it. He peered into the turbolift.
"Um, are you going to the bridge?" he asked.
McCoy nodded. "That we are. If we ever stop picking up passengers, that is."
"Oh." Jones stepped into the turbolift, the doors shut, and it once more resumed its journey.
"Have you been feeling better since that incident with the mad deer, Ensign?" McCoy asked.
Jones blushed furiously. "I'm fine, Doctor. Just fine."
Any reply from McCoy was drowned out by a sudden grinding noise from the turbolift. It was just the sort of sound you don't want to hear in an elevator. It went on for half a minute, then the turbolift stopped abruptly. So abruptly the passengers nearly fell. They waited for the turbolift doors to open. They didn't.
"Computer, open the turbolift doors," Spock commanded calmly.
The doors squeaked open a fraction of an inch, then slammed shut again.
"Computer, open the doors," Spock said again.
This time nothing happened. Nothing at all. McCoy was starting to feel apprehensive. Jones was well into full-fledged worry.
"The turbolift stalled, didn't it? We're trapped here, aren't we?" Jones said nervously.
"It does look that way," Spock acknowledged.
* * *
In engineering, a light on one panel flashed on, demanding attention. "Och, now what?" Scotty muttered. He walked over to the panel, and did some checking. After a few minutes he stepped over to the comm unit and called the Captain.
* * *
Kirk answered the call on the bridge. "Kirk here. What do you need, Scotty?"
The chief engineer's voice came over the comm unit. "I can't say that I need anythin', but we do have a wee bit of trouble I thought ye ought to know of."
"All right. So what's the problem?"
"Oh, nothing major, mind you. Just a stalled turbolift. It's stuck fast between Decks 3 and 4."
"Oh, is that all? I thought maybe the engine was going to go." Compared to some 'slight problems' Scotty had called him about in the past, a stalled turbolift didn't seem much cause for concern.
"Well, it has got three passengers who are stuck along with it."
Slight cause for concern. "You can get them out, can't you?"
"Oh, aye. But I'm afraid the turbolift is a hopeless wreck at the moment. Could be days to get it fixed. But we're goin' to work on cuttin' the door and get the people out afore we get to work on fixin' the turbolift."
"Fine. How long do you think it'll take to cut through the door?"
"Could be a good twelve hours, I'm afeared. Them's solid doors."
Twelve hours: slightly greater cause for concern. "Well, can't you use tools with higher power, to cut faster?"
"Well…I could."
Kirk smiled. "And why shouldn't you?"
"If you use too high a power, it gets tricky to guarantee the safety of what's on the other side of the door, if you catch my drift."
He did. "Twelve hours it is then. Oh…can computer sensors tell you who's trapped in the turbolift?"
"Aye, that they can. Three people: Ensign Jones, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy."
Kirk blinked. "Spock…and McCoy?" he echoed. "Both of them?"
"Aye, that's what I said."
Kirk sighed. Spock and McCoy, trapped in a turbolift—together—for twelve hours. Major cause for concern.
* * *
Captain's Log, Supplemental:
We've run into a bit of trouble. For the ship on a whole, this particular problem is trivial. Inconsequential. Easily dismissed. On a personal level…this could be very, very serious.
We have had a malfunction in the turbolifts, causing a turbolift to stall between decks. There are three people trapped: Ensign Jones, Mr. Spock, and Dr. McCoy. Spock and Bones are really very fond of each other. Neither is likely to admit that in the foreseeable future. They antagonize each other a great deal, and while it is friendly… What may occur if they are trapped in an enclosed space for an extended length of time is not something I'd like to consider. And Mr. Scott suggests it could be twelve hours before we can get them out.
I only hope everyone is still alive when we get the door open.
* * *
Thirty minutes:
The trio, concluding they were going to be stuck in the turbolift for some time, had decided it might be best to sit down. There was just about enough space for them each to sit without bumping knees with the person next to them. Just barely enough space. Jones was decidedly worried, while Spock and McCoy stayed calm.
After a short time, McCoy became aware of a noise on the other side of the turbolift doors. "Hey, does anybody hear something?"
Spock, with his Vulcan ears, had been listening carefully for several minutes. "I believe it is Mr. Scott with a repair team. Logically, that is the most likely source of noise."
"Well, maybe we'll get out of here reasonably soon then," McCoy said hopefully.
"Unlikely. If what I believe is wrong with the turbolift is correct, they will have to cut the door, which could take ten hours or more."
"Thanks, Spock, I really needed to know all that," McCoy said sarcastically.
"Ten hours…ohhh." Jones moaned at the very thought.
"Or more," Spock said calmly.
"You're not helping," McCoy said with annoyance.
"I was merely clarifying."
McCoy groaned. "Ten hours of this…"
"Do you think there's any way to tell 'em to hurry up?" Jones asked.
"I don't know. Would they hear us if we shouted?" McCoy said.
"It is not likely. However…" Spock stood up, stepped over Jones' leg, and stood next to the door. Then he began to rhythmically pound it.
"And how is pounding the door going to help?" McCoy asked.
"Random pounding would be of little use to anyone. However, if one knows how to communicate via Morse code—"
"He knows Morse code," McCoy said with some amazement. "What's really astonishing is that this surprises me."
On the other side of the door, Scotty and his engineers were at first unsure what to make of the pounding, but after a few minutes of repetition someone worked out that it might be Morse code. After that it took a few minutes to locate another crewmember who knew Morse code (it was rather outdated), but once they did it was simple to establish communications. On the outside they learned that it was Spock, McCoy and Jones inside, and that all three were well enough. On the inside they learned it was probably twelve hours before they'd get out. Jones was somewhat upset.
* * *
Hour Three:
So far, Spock and McCoy were still feeling all right, despite the tiny space. The confinement was taking its toll on Jones though. He'd become increasingly agitated during the last few hours, despite McCoy's attempts to calm him. Finally, as they reached the three-hour mark, he snapped.
"I can't take it anymore!" Jones shouted suddenly, leaping to his feet.
"Take a deep breath," McCoy urged him, wishing he had a sedative on hand.
"No! No, I've had it! Had it, I tell you!" he shrieked. "I can't stand the confinement! The inactivity! I just can't handle it!"
Before either Spock or McCoy could prevent him, Jones charged at the turbolift doors with a bellow. His head banged against the doors, he moaned, and slumped to the floor unconscious.
"Crazy kid," McCoy grumbled, leaning over him. "Lucky though. Looks like a fairly mild head injury. He'll be out cold for several hours, I think, but it's nothing I can't patch up when we get back to Sickbay. Speaking of which, I have got to look into his psych file."
* * *
Hour Six:
Boredom was setting in. For McCoy anyway. Spock, on the other hand, was mentally calculating the current gravitational pull on the Enterprise from the nearby stars and planets. Jones was still unconscious, in a sitting position against one wall.
"So why were you going to the bridge?" McCoy asked, taking a stab at conversation.
Spock broke off his calculations. "My shift was beginning. Unfortunately, it seems likely my shift will end before we exit this turbolift."
"Oh."
Silence descended again for a few moments.
"Well aren't you going to ask me why I was going to the bridge?"
Spock once again stopped his calculations. "I had not been planning to."
"Why not? Aren't you at all curious?"
Spock sighed inwardly. "No, I am not curious. I calculate a 96.7 percent chance you were going to the bridge to talk with the Captain."
McCoy shrugged. "You got it in one. Want to guess what I was going to talk to Jim about?"
"Not especially."
"Aw, come on. Guess."
Spock considered. Experience had taught him that sometimes the wisest thing to do was whatever Dr. McCoy wanted him to do, as it was often the only way to satisfy him. And he usually wound up doing so eventually, so logically it was best to simply acquiesce. He thought about it. "Were you going to inform the Captain he has not yet had his yearly medical examination?"
McCoy blinked. "Who told you?"
"No one told me anything. I am simply aware that often senior officers take yearly exams at the same time of year. I had mine two weeks ago. I am also aware that the Captain avoids medical exams whenever possible. Therefore, I calculated a 72.3 percent chance that that is the matter you wished to address with the Captain."
McCoy shook his head. "Spock, what are you, a man or a computer?"
"That question is not logical."
"That's what you think!"
"Yes. If it was not what I thought I would not have said it."
McCoy groaned. "Oh forget it."
"It is not likely I will 'forget it' but I will cease discussing it."
"Thank you ever so," McCoy said sarcastically.
Spock resumed his calculations. McCoy went back to staring at the walls.
* * *
Hour Seven:
McCoy was tired of staring at the walls. He suspected he would remember the exact shade of this particular turbolift for the rest of his life, if he lived to be a hundred and forty. Spock, meanwhile, had completed his calculations regarding gravitational pull, and had begun calculating the—
"Can we please talk about something?" McCoy said, interrupting Spock's calculating again.
"Why?"
"Because I am bored out of my mind!"
Spock nodded knowingly. "Ah. Boredom. A common ailment among humans I believe."
"And I suppose Vulcans never get bored?"
Spock considered his answer carefully. "It is not unheard of, but highly rare."
"And you, of course, are never bored?"
"Never."
"Suuure."
Spock raised one eyebrow. "Do you doubt me, Doctor?"
McCoy just shrugged. "So Vulcans are never bored, eh?"
"Very rarely. I understand it is a frequent occurrence among humans. A defect of the species." Was Spock deliberately baiting McCoy with that line? Well…
Either way it did. Bait him, that is. "A—a defect of the species?!" McCoy spluttered.
"Even you must admit it is not a positive attribute," Spock observed.
McCoy opened his mouth, then shut it again. Spock had him there. Boredom was something of a defect when you thought about it. Not that he was about to admit anything of the kind. "So what do the brilliant Vulcans do to prevent boredom?" he asked sarcastically.
"It takes only a minor amount of mental discipline to divert one's mental workings upon interesting tracts and occupy the mind. Perhaps eventually humans will learn to do similar."
McCoy glared at him. "And what oh-so-fascinating tract was your mental workings concentrating on?"
"Until you interrupted me, I was calculating the density of the stellar core of the nearest star system, as I have completed my calculations regarding gravitational pull from nearby systems."
McCoy groaned. "Oh that does it!"
"I fail to see how it does anything."
"You would," McCoy said sourly.
"You are not making sense, Doctor."
"No, I suppose not."
"Do you not think it would be wise to rectify that problem?"
"No, I do not think it would be wise."
"That is not logical."
"'Not logical,' he says," McCoy told the turbolift in general. "Of the 430 crewmembers on this ship, I get stuck in a turbolift with you!"
Spock did not seem offended. "Four-hundred thirty six."
"What?"
"There are four-hundred thirty six crewmembers currently aboard the Enterprise. Therefore there are four-hundred thirty five crewmembers you could have been trapped in a turbolift with, four-hundred thirty four discounting myself."
"I. Don't. Care!"
"Then I suggest you should not have brought the matter up to begin with."
McCoy moaned, pretty much at the end of his patience levels, which were never very high to begin with.
"Doctor, you seem somewhat irritated."
"Of course I'm irritated! I'm hungry, I'm bored, I've been trapped in two square feet of space—"
"Actually, closer to—"
"I don't care how many square inches of space there is in here!"
"I was not going to give you the square inch size of the turbolift."
"Good!"
"It is generally preferable to use the metric system. In centimeters, there are—"
McCoy snapped. "All right, put 'em up!" he barked, getting to his feet.
Spock looked at him with some amazement, then slowly stood up. "Doctor, are you attempting to engage me in a fight?"
"I most definitely am!"
"That is not wise, not wise at all."
"I'd say what's your point, but I can see 'em!"
"I think you may be past reasoning with."
"Most likely!"
"In that case, you leave me little choice."
In the turbolift, they were easily within arm's length of each other. It was simple for Spock to reach out and nerve pinch McCoy, who slumped to the floor unconscious.
Spock looked down at him. "I am sorry that was necessary." Spock then seated himself against a wall, and chose to immerse himself in meditation.
* * *
Hour Eight:
Little change within the turbolift. McCoy and Jones were both still unconscious. Spock was deep in meditation.
Outside, significant progress had been made. So much so that Scotty called Kirk.
"Captain, I believe we ought ta be through the turbolift doors in another five minutes," Scotty said into the comm unit, in the hall outside the turbolift.
On the bridge, Kirk was surprised. "Really? I thought it was supposed to be another four hours."
"Ah, well…we went a wee bit faster then expected."
"However you did it, you're a miracle worker."
"Why thank ye, Captain. Do ye want to be comin' down for when we open her up?"
Kirk thought about it. There wasn't really any reason for him to be there. But on the other hand, this was Spock and McCoy, after they'd been stuck with each other for eight hours… "I'll be right down."
* * *
They got the doors open shortly after Kirk arrived, and found all the occupants apparently unconscious. Kirk was decidedly taken aback. He'd made the joke about everyone still being alive, but maybe he should have said it seriously… Fortunately for everyone in general, Spock came out of his meditation just moments after the door opened. He stood up and greeted the stunned group on the other side.
"Hello. I see the work was completed four hours ahead of predicted. Most commendable," Spock said calmly.
"Spock…what happened?" Kirk managed.
"I assume you are referring to Ensign Jones and Doctor McCoy."
Kirk nodded mutely.
"Ensign Jones became a bit distressed at the confinement. Dr. McCoy became somewhat irritated. They both should be waking up within the hour. Speaking of the hour, I believe my shift has ended. If I am not needed on the bridge, may I return to my quarters to continue meditating?"
"Uh…sure," Kirk said, not finding Spock's simple explanation of things much of an explanation.
"Thank you. Also, Dr. McCoy wanted to inform you that you have been delaying your annual medical exam for the last two weeks. It would be wise to take the exam before he wakes up."
"Right..."
Spock nodded, and headed down the corridor. Kirk looked from Spock's retreating form to the unconscious bodies in the turbolift. He wondered if he really wanted a more complete explanation, and decided it was just possible he didn't…
They WILL get to the primitive planet next chapter. What's on it? Well…let's say I was definitely inspired by my vacation…the plane ride, actually…
Review, of course! Or I'll strand you in a turbolift with Spock! Wait, some of you might like that…