Thank you to all my reviewers, I hope I can make this live up to expectations!
I didn't include this in the earlier chapters, but here it is: If I owned Star Trek, Rick Berman would be panhandling outside my parking garage. I don't own it, and this is just for fun. Good luck if you want to sue me, 'cause I don't have a cent.
McCoy sat in the lounge, staring out the window at the passing stars and trying to avoid the glances of the other officers. He had heard some of the rumors surrounding him and the mess in the lab, and none of them were very pretty. One claimed that he was attempting to create a super-sealant to seal Spock in his quarters as retribution. McCoy shuddered. The last thing that he wanted brought up was the unfortunate incident with Spock and himself in the turbolift.
Another rumor claimed that he was attempting to create a new way of testing the adrenaline levels of ensigns recieving their first physical exam. Someone had even pulled up his old neurosurgery papers from Med school to back up the theory.
He sighed and looked back out at the stars.
The reflection in the glass brightened as the door slid open, and McCoy slid down a little in his seat as Kirk and Spock entered.
To his credit, Spock had not said a word about the Turbolift incident since it happened. McCoy was grateful, but he was sure that Spock found it humorous once he was safely squirreled away in his quarters. He didn't find it too hard to envision Spock snickering quietly.
Kirk made his way to where McCoy thought he was safely hidden, and sat in the chair across from him. "Bones, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were trying to avoid people."
"If I were trying to avoid people, don't you think I'd be in my quarters?" McCoy tried to laugh it off.
"Doctor," Spock sat down stiffly next to Kirk. "Perhaps you would like to hear the latest report on the substance you have created in the lab?"
"Yes, Spock," McCoy said, his accent weighing down his sarcasm heavily. "Please do give me the latest report on the substance I created in the lab."
The intonation flew over Spock's head like a speeding flitter. "The substance shows an apparent ability to recombine calcium carbonates, which would appear to explain its growth. We are currently attempting to split off a portion of the mass in an attempt to study stratification of layers, if any."
McCoy stared out the window and grunted in response.
"Bones," Kirk smiled. "We're on our way to Rigel II, we've been assigned to show a little muscle to a group of malcontents. It should give us some time to clear this up. Try not to worry about it anymore."
"Malcontents?" McCoy turned, interested.
"Some of the citizens are protesting Rigel's increased involvement in Federation politics, and want their representatives to back off a little."
"I would think they would want representatives to the Federation to be as involved as possible, in the interests of their planet." McCoy finally leaned forward in his chair, glad for the change of topic.
"Apparently their religious belief requires of them a certain distance from all large political entities," Spock explained. "And the Federation they find particularly distasteful, as they see it as being inherently at odds with their belief that all beings should subjugate themselves to the forces of the universe."
"Forces of the universe?" McCoy lifted a brow. "What does that mean?"
"The reports were a little sketchy, possibly because they aren't sure themselves," Kirk took a cup of coffee proferred by a passing yeoman. As he sipped, he caught McCoy's eye. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said in mock sympathy. "I didn't mean to upset you."
McCoy snorted and leaned back in his chair again. "This is why I don't leave Sickbay very often."
Kirk stood up. "I have to get back to the bridge. Do you intend to hide here all day?"
"No," McCoy shot back. "I can hide in my office just as easily as anywhere else. And I can close my office door, too."
Kirk chuckled, and Spock stood up. "I am returning to the lab to check progress of the substance. Perhaps you should join me, doctor."
"I agree," Kirk nodded. "Go check it out, Bones. That is an order."
McCoy grumbled and stood, and followed Spock out the door to the lab.
Kirk made his way back to the bridge, where Sulu was plotting a standard orbital approach. "Time to Rigel, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk asked as he sat in his chair.
"Four hours, six minutes at present speed, sir." Sulu clicked a few buttons at his console, and swiveled in his chair. "So, do we dress in formalwear to meet the hippies, sir?"
"Hippies?"
"It's just a rumor," Sulu shrugged. "But any religion that claims to know anything about the forces of the universe sounds a little freakish to me, sir."
Kirk couldn't help but agree, but he forced a captainly position on the subject. "Now, Mr, Sulu. Let's try to keep an open mind about this, shall we?"
Uhura, her hand to her ear as she tried to discern the voices squabbling over subspace, turned to Kirk. "Captain, I'm getting some strange signals from Rigel. I think they want us to speed up our arrival, but I can't really tell," she paused as she tried to listen.
"Put it on speaker," Kirk said quickly.
"Enterprise, this is Prime Minister Re'doque of Rigel II, calling to," and at this point the voice appeared to turn away from the microphone. "I am calling them now! Yes, I'm sure of it! Please let me finish!" it demanded of the unseen party, and then spoke back to the Enterprise. "Calling to the request that you please expedite your arrival. We are experiencing unrest and turmoil. Please respond!"
Kirk leaned back while the voice pleaded on. Kirk had a hard time believing that a bunch of supposed peaceniks were really causing so much trouble, so he saw no need to push the ship past warp 2. But, on the other hand, he had been assigned to help the Rigellians wherever he could. It might have been prudent to do it anyway, even if the action served only to humor the Prime Minister.
Kirk turned to Sulu. "How can we get there within the hour, Mister Sulu?"
"If we push to warp six, sir. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Do it," he nodded to Sulu, and then turned to Uhura. "Signal back, and tell the Prime Minister we are pressing forward as fast as we can and will be there within the hour."
"Aye, sir," Uhura turned back to her console.
Back in the lab, Spock had discovered that he could slow the growth of the substance to a near halt by removing all nitrogen from the air in the room. This, of course, meant some degree of bizarre pressurization and required all technicians working on the problem to wear enviromental suits.
McCoy watched the annoyed techs struggling to get in and out of the suits and felt a degree of responsibility and guilt. No one, however, looked at him with annoyance and anger, and a few of them even waved his way and smiled.
He nodded back and peered into the lab as the door opened and closed. The blackish blob was still there, the smell of caramel sweetness muted somewhat from the lack of ventilation going through the room.
Spock appeared at his side with a PADD, full of scrolling data involving molecular composition, expansion rates, and other numbers and equations that made little sense to McCoy at the time. "Doctor, perhaps you would care to explain the presence of the plant?"
"Spock, have you ever had a bad day?"
"Bad day?"
"Yes, Spock. A day where nothing went right, and everything just went wrong?"
"I do not recall such a day, no. Then again, I do not start my days with the presumption that events will favor me and my goals." Spock then folded the Padd under his arm. "Perhaps you would do well to cease making presumptions about the course of the day, and then you will cease to have 'bad days'."
McCoy grumbled under his breath.