Disclaimer: Now wouldn't it be nice if I owned Star Trek. Paramount does.
*Sniff sniff* Oh, well, on with the story.
A/N: It's 12:50AM so if my brain is dead that's why. But I might as enjoy these last late-nights of summer before school starts. ^_^
A/N2: Now I could be annoying and start the chapter off in the cell and not say what happens to Dr. McCoy until later, or I could be nice and tell you right off the bat. I think I'll be annoying.
*** Identity Crisis ***
Chapter Eight - ...oh my god he was only here for a haircut oh my god...
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
"So what do we do?" Roberts asked shortly after McCoy was taken away.
Chekov shrugged, and then realized his mistake. "I think we should help Mr. Spock."
Roberts nodded, but as Doctor McCoy had been taken, none of them knew exactly how to help Spock. He wasn't helping, anyway. He seemed to have gone back into that meditation-state he had been in while they had been waiting for something to happen.
Roberts and Chekov exchanged glances. A moment later Spock opened his eyes.
"Sir?" Roberts ventured.
Chekov watched himself say, "The Vulcan healing trance seems to have little effect on this body."
"Uh," he said. But he couldn't help but feel glad he was Vulcan now. This was his body that was weak, that wouldn't heal like a Vulcan. He knew he had gotten the better end of the bargain. He didn't need or want his body back.
Once he had thought it, he felt ashamed for a moment. He would have to take his body back eventually.
But then he realized, no, he didn't. They still didn't know how to switch back, and there was a good chance they would never learn. And then it wouldn't be such a bad thing to stay Spock.
He dared to think it again.
I don't want my body back.
He realized all too late that Roberts was talking to him.
"Hello-o, Pavel, wake up." Roberts waved his hand in front of Chekov's vision.
Chekov had been staring into space as he sorted his thoughts out in his mind.
"Vhat?" he asked. But then, if he were to stay Spock, we would have to ditch the accent, if he could. "What?" he said again.
"Spock says we don't need to help him right now." Roberts spoke slowly, as if talking to a child.
"Vh- What is he going to do?"
"Have you been listening at all?"
"No," Chekov admitted.
"Well, he's just going to wrap it up and stuff since the Vulcan thing won't work. You know, Starfleet procedure number- oh who cares."
"Oh." Chekov felt decidedly stupid. "I missed all thet?"
Roberts rolled his eyes.
-
(A/N: And now back to McCoy, who if you remember we left with a blade swishing down over his head.)
McCoy was too shocked to even scream. He waited for the blade to bite into his face, for the blood to pour out, for those few agonizing moments before he died.
And for the strangest reason, he was also thinking about the last time he had eaten dinner.
Instead of chopping his head open, the blade cut off a large chunk of Ensign Roberts' jet-black hair.
The walrus-thing proceeded to cut McCoy's (well, it's Roberts' if you think about it) hair into a something reminiscent of a crew cut.
The walrus-alien threw the hair into a chute smaller than the one McCoy had entered the cell through. But at the moment, he didn't care much. He was alive.
McCoy felt his sigh of relief had been heard on Earth. There had been no pain oh my god he was only here for a haircut oh my god that was close...
Then he did feel pain. A lot of it. The walrus thing had cut off the very tip of his left pointer finger.
Suddenly the chute in which the hair had been thrown looked very inviting. Whilst it was far to small for a walrus alien to fit through, McCoy was fairly sure he would be able to slide down. Hopefully it would let out somewhere that he could escape from. Well, anything better than to stay here while an alien cut him apart bit by bit.
All this thought occurred in a time span of about a tenth of a second. After that, his decision made, McCoy ignored the urge to stay on the table. He leapt up and took a running jump into the chute.
He fell quickly, picking up speed as he went. He thought he passed an opening or two or maybe three but he couldn't be sure. All he could think about at the moment was the fact that his finger hurt a lot.
The chute also hurt, as it was lined with rocks and ice. After what felt like an eternity of falling the tunnel began to level out. It finally stopped against a wall of thick ice peppered with stone and thick metal bars stretching up and down..
McCoy could do nothing but nurse his finger for a moment. Poor Roberts. When he got his body back it would be missing part of a finger.
Blood was spattering down McCoy's coat from the wound, and he knew he had to stop the bleeding quickly. He wished he had his medikit, but he didn't even remember if Roberts had brought it or not. So instead he ripped off the very bottom of his red shirt and wrapped the strip of cloth tightly around the wound.
A nice reminder of what it meant to be a redshirt.
Something he saw out of the corner of his eye made him stare into the sheet of ice in front of him. There were people moving behind it.
That's when it struck him that there were only three humans and one Vulcan on the whole planet. So behind here must be Spock, Chekov, and Roberts.
McCoy pounded on the ice with his undamaged hand, hoping to get the attention of those within.
Instead of anyone hitting the ice back, or shouting through it, someone came up and leaned on it.
McCoy was annoyed that no one had answered him until he realized what the person on the other side of the ice was doing. He was melting it.
McCoy leaned on it from his side. Melting it from both ways would make It go faster.
-
About a minute earlier. In the cell.
Spock was busy wrapping his leg in the few bandages that could be found in Roberts' medikit, but Chekov and Roberts had nothing to do.
So they were the ones who noticed the thud coming from the other side of the cell wall.
There was a "What (and a 'Vhat') was that?" from both ensigns.
It was Chekov who first noticed that the shape on the other side was humanoid, and it was Chekov again who decided to melt the ice.
Twenty long minutes later, there was a small hole in the ice wall.
"Doctor!" Chekov exclaimed.
"Yes, it's me," said McCoy, though he too was feeling rather joyous at being reunited with his comrades (A/N: Okay, I'm scaring myself now. '...rather joyous at being reunited...' I guess when it's late [early, eheh, 1:04] I stop writing like a thirteen-year-old...)
Yeah... Back to the story. Where was I?
"Yes, it's me, now will you help me break through this ice so I can squeeze in here? I think I can fit through the bars."
For Chekov, who had Vulcan strength, it was a simple matter to drive one shoulder into the ice. Crystalline shards of frozen h2o hit McCoy in the face, and he scurried back in the tunnel as much as he could.
In a second, it was over.
The hole wasn't very big, and it was in beetween two of the metal bars, but Roberts would fit through it, so McCoy (as Roberts, of course, we mustn't forget that!) was able to crawl through.
Everyone (except Spock, who was somewhat busy) looked extremely relieved at seeing him here.
The first question he received, when his still-bleeding hand dripped blood through his makeshift bandage onto the floor was:
"What happened to you?"
McCoy sighed. "I'm sorry, Ensign, but when you get your body back it'll be missing something." McCoy related what had happened to him since he was taken away by the walrus-alien.
Spock finally spoke.
"Doctor, you may want to bandage your hand using real bandages, not your shirt." He handed McCoy what was left of the bandages he had been using.
"Never mind that," McCoy said as he took the bandages from Spock. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"
The Eyebrow, well, Chekov's eyebrow, rose. "Doctor, I believe you were here when the alien landed on me and beyond that am obviously not 'okay.'"
McCoy sighed theatrically. "I mean, how much damage was inflicted upon your system when the walrus-like entity fell onto you from the chute?"
"I broke my leg. I believe I had mentioned that while you were still with us."
"Well I forgot, okay?"
Spock stood up shakily. He tested his leg by putting weight on it. He winced, but it didn't collapse under him.
"Spock. What are you doing?"
"We now have a way to escape. I am testing my broken limb because in order to climb up the tunnel you fell through, surely I will need it."
McCoy's eyes lit up. He had had so much on his mind he had completely forgotten that they could escape through the chute.
He quickly bandaged his finger and crouched down at the opening to the tunnel and crawled through. Chekov and Roberts did the same, though Spock (as much as he obviously hated it) needed help. But they pulled him through in the end.
Though they were looking up at what would be a next to impossible climb, McCoy saw only one thing.
A chance to escape.
A/N: It's 12:50AM so if my brain is dead that's why. But I might as enjoy these last late-nights of summer before school starts. ^_^
A/N2: Now I could be annoying and start the chapter off in the cell and not say what happens to Dr. McCoy until later, or I could be nice and tell you right off the bat. I think I'll be annoying.
*** Identity Crisis ***
Chapter Eight - ...oh my god he was only here for a haircut oh my god...
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
"So what do we do?" Roberts asked shortly after McCoy was taken away.
Chekov shrugged, and then realized his mistake. "I think we should help Mr. Spock."
Roberts nodded, but as Doctor McCoy had been taken, none of them knew exactly how to help Spock. He wasn't helping, anyway. He seemed to have gone back into that meditation-state he had been in while they had been waiting for something to happen.
Roberts and Chekov exchanged glances. A moment later Spock opened his eyes.
"Sir?" Roberts ventured.
Chekov watched himself say, "The Vulcan healing trance seems to have little effect on this body."
"Uh," he said. But he couldn't help but feel glad he was Vulcan now. This was his body that was weak, that wouldn't heal like a Vulcan. He knew he had gotten the better end of the bargain. He didn't need or want his body back.
Once he had thought it, he felt ashamed for a moment. He would have to take his body back eventually.
But then he realized, no, he didn't. They still didn't know how to switch back, and there was a good chance they would never learn. And then it wouldn't be such a bad thing to stay Spock.
He dared to think it again.
I don't want my body back.
He realized all too late that Roberts was talking to him.
"Hello-o, Pavel, wake up." Roberts waved his hand in front of Chekov's vision.
Chekov had been staring into space as he sorted his thoughts out in his mind.
"Vhat?" he asked. But then, if he were to stay Spock, we would have to ditch the accent, if he could. "What?" he said again.
"Spock says we don't need to help him right now." Roberts spoke slowly, as if talking to a child.
"Vh- What is he going to do?"
"Have you been listening at all?"
"No," Chekov admitted.
"Well, he's just going to wrap it up and stuff since the Vulcan thing won't work. You know, Starfleet procedure number- oh who cares."
"Oh." Chekov felt decidedly stupid. "I missed all thet?"
Roberts rolled his eyes.
-
(A/N: And now back to McCoy, who if you remember we left with a blade swishing down over his head.)
McCoy was too shocked to even scream. He waited for the blade to bite into his face, for the blood to pour out, for those few agonizing moments before he died.
And for the strangest reason, he was also thinking about the last time he had eaten dinner.
Instead of chopping his head open, the blade cut off a large chunk of Ensign Roberts' jet-black hair.
The walrus-thing proceeded to cut McCoy's (well, it's Roberts' if you think about it) hair into a something reminiscent of a crew cut.
The walrus-alien threw the hair into a chute smaller than the one McCoy had entered the cell through. But at the moment, he didn't care much. He was alive.
McCoy felt his sigh of relief had been heard on Earth. There had been no pain oh my god he was only here for a haircut oh my god that was close...
Then he did feel pain. A lot of it. The walrus thing had cut off the very tip of his left pointer finger.
Suddenly the chute in which the hair had been thrown looked very inviting. Whilst it was far to small for a walrus alien to fit through, McCoy was fairly sure he would be able to slide down. Hopefully it would let out somewhere that he could escape from. Well, anything better than to stay here while an alien cut him apart bit by bit.
All this thought occurred in a time span of about a tenth of a second. After that, his decision made, McCoy ignored the urge to stay on the table. He leapt up and took a running jump into the chute.
He fell quickly, picking up speed as he went. He thought he passed an opening or two or maybe three but he couldn't be sure. All he could think about at the moment was the fact that his finger hurt a lot.
The chute also hurt, as it was lined with rocks and ice. After what felt like an eternity of falling the tunnel began to level out. It finally stopped against a wall of thick ice peppered with stone and thick metal bars stretching up and down..
McCoy could do nothing but nurse his finger for a moment. Poor Roberts. When he got his body back it would be missing part of a finger.
Blood was spattering down McCoy's coat from the wound, and he knew he had to stop the bleeding quickly. He wished he had his medikit, but he didn't even remember if Roberts had brought it or not. So instead he ripped off the very bottom of his red shirt and wrapped the strip of cloth tightly around the wound.
A nice reminder of what it meant to be a redshirt.
Something he saw out of the corner of his eye made him stare into the sheet of ice in front of him. There were people moving behind it.
That's when it struck him that there were only three humans and one Vulcan on the whole planet. So behind here must be Spock, Chekov, and Roberts.
McCoy pounded on the ice with his undamaged hand, hoping to get the attention of those within.
Instead of anyone hitting the ice back, or shouting through it, someone came up and leaned on it.
McCoy was annoyed that no one had answered him until he realized what the person on the other side of the ice was doing. He was melting it.
McCoy leaned on it from his side. Melting it from both ways would make It go faster.
-
About a minute earlier. In the cell.
Spock was busy wrapping his leg in the few bandages that could be found in Roberts' medikit, but Chekov and Roberts had nothing to do.
So they were the ones who noticed the thud coming from the other side of the cell wall.
There was a "What (and a 'Vhat') was that?" from both ensigns.
It was Chekov who first noticed that the shape on the other side was humanoid, and it was Chekov again who decided to melt the ice.
Twenty long minutes later, there was a small hole in the ice wall.
"Doctor!" Chekov exclaimed.
"Yes, it's me," said McCoy, though he too was feeling rather joyous at being reunited with his comrades (A/N: Okay, I'm scaring myself now. '...rather joyous at being reunited...' I guess when it's late [early, eheh, 1:04] I stop writing like a thirteen-year-old...)
Yeah... Back to the story. Where was I?
"Yes, it's me, now will you help me break through this ice so I can squeeze in here? I think I can fit through the bars."
For Chekov, who had Vulcan strength, it was a simple matter to drive one shoulder into the ice. Crystalline shards of frozen h2o hit McCoy in the face, and he scurried back in the tunnel as much as he could.
In a second, it was over.
The hole wasn't very big, and it was in beetween two of the metal bars, but Roberts would fit through it, so McCoy (as Roberts, of course, we mustn't forget that!) was able to crawl through.
Everyone (except Spock, who was somewhat busy) looked extremely relieved at seeing him here.
The first question he received, when his still-bleeding hand dripped blood through his makeshift bandage onto the floor was:
"What happened to you?"
McCoy sighed. "I'm sorry, Ensign, but when you get your body back it'll be missing something." McCoy related what had happened to him since he was taken away by the walrus-alien.
Spock finally spoke.
"Doctor, you may want to bandage your hand using real bandages, not your shirt." He handed McCoy what was left of the bandages he had been using.
"Never mind that," McCoy said as he took the bandages from Spock. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"
The Eyebrow, well, Chekov's eyebrow, rose. "Doctor, I believe you were here when the alien landed on me and beyond that am obviously not 'okay.'"
McCoy sighed theatrically. "I mean, how much damage was inflicted upon your system when the walrus-like entity fell onto you from the chute?"
"I broke my leg. I believe I had mentioned that while you were still with us."
"Well I forgot, okay?"
Spock stood up shakily. He tested his leg by putting weight on it. He winced, but it didn't collapse under him.
"Spock. What are you doing?"
"We now have a way to escape. I am testing my broken limb because in order to climb up the tunnel you fell through, surely I will need it."
McCoy's eyes lit up. He had had so much on his mind he had completely forgotten that they could escape through the chute.
He quickly bandaged his finger and crouched down at the opening to the tunnel and crawled through. Chekov and Roberts did the same, though Spock (as much as he obviously hated it) needed help. But they pulled him through in the end.
Though they were looking up at what would be a next to impossible climb, McCoy saw only one thing.
A chance to escape.