Dis. Not mine.
I know what you all are thinking: Oh good Lord she finally updated. Yes, yes, I know. Its been a long time. Well...sorry. As for my other Trek story...my muse has been silent on that one for awhile. So, I don't know how long that's gonna take, unless one of you guys give me some inspiration...you know, like lots of long, inspired reviews. NMIS didn't seem to attract very many people with its last chapter. But I'm not bitter...
Also, I am now an extremely proud AUNT! The proud aunt of Evelyn Joy Kerr, who is the cutest, sweetest and most perfect baby ever born. Not that I'm biased...
Anyways, MOVING ON. I'm afraid that this chap. might have more than the average number of typos, since I'm on a new computer, and I haven't got Microsoft Word completely calibrated the way I like it. So, feel free to correct me. Even feel free to point and laugh at me. As long as its not in a public place.
Chapter 4
"Good morning!"
Kirk looked up to see a disgustingly cheerful Dr. McCoy bounce onto the bridge.
"Hey Jim. Sorry I wasn't at breakfast this morning. Work to do, you know. Starfleet sent me some...ah, forceful reminders that I'm a bit behind on my paperwork."
Kirk raised his eyebrows incredulously.
"A bit behind, huh. And you actually listened to them?"
McCoy scowled.
"A few of the reminders included some not-so-subtle phrases like 'under penalty of death.'"
Kirk shook his head in amusement, and more than a few of the other bridge officers exchanged grins. The doctor was notorious for neglecting to send in his reports.
"Besides," McCoy continued, leaning casually against a nearby panel, "it was either work on that, or sit around talking to Spock."
"Glad to know that you place so much emphasis on doctor-patient relationships," Kirk said dryly. "By the way, how is Spock?"
"He'll be out of my care and back on the bridge by this afternoon. Ideally, he should be sleeping right now. Realistically, he's probably reprogramming the Sickbay computers." McCoy's face grew thoughtful. "I'm going to have to yell at him about that later."
Not wanting the doctor to start his usual 'Vulcans make lousy patients' rant, Kirk changed the subject.
"So, how did the pet-sitting go?"
McCoy stared blankly at the Captain.
"What?"
With a growing sense of dread, Kirk tried to prod his friend's memory.
"Remember the cat? Spock's cat that you were supposed to feed for him?"
McCoy's eyes went wide.
"Oh. Whoops."
Kirk leaned forward and fixed the physician with a scrutinizing gaze.
"You forgot? That poor cat has no food?"
McCoy shuffled his feet, trying not to meet the Captain's eyes. "Well, I..."
"Bones," Kirk exclaimed, "no matter how much Spock annoys you, that's no reason to try and kill his cat!"
Before McCoy could lodge a protest at this over-reaction, Chekov piped up.
"Vait," he said, sounding confused, "Who is killing cats?"
"Oh, Doctor McCoy is," Sulu informed him off-handedly.
"Vhy is he doing that?"
Uhura chimed in from station.
"He's feeding the cats to Mr. Spock, I think." She looked inquiringly at Sulu. "Isn't that what they said?"
"That's what I heard," the helmsman confirmed. "Experimental medicine, perhaps."
"Doctor McCoy!" Chekov burst out, voice full of horror and accusation. "You are using cats for medicine? And...and feeding them to your patients?"
The supposed feline-killer's mouth was hanging open in baffled frustration.
"What...I...you..." he sputtered. "You're all insane! I'm not going to listen to this. Let's go, Jim."
Kirk stopped grinning. "Me?"
"No, the other Jim. Come on, I'll prove to you that the cat is fine, and we can get this feeding over with.
With his hands held up in a gesture of defeat, Kirk gave over bridge command and followed the glowering doctor into the turbolift.
"I can't believe this," McCoy grumbled. "One time, I forget to feed a cat, now all of a sudden I'm a psychopathic demon doctor?"
"Ah, lighten up, Bones," Kirk chided. "It's not like anyone actually believes that." He considered for a moment. "Well, Chekov does. And maybe the Lieutenant that was over by the science station, he was looking pretty apprehensive."
McCoy tilted his chin up with the air of a proud martyr.
"In the midst of this outrageous slander," he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. "I shall stand firm. I will not be swayed or-" McCoy's declaration of goodness was cut off by the turbolift doors, which swished open. Kirk rolled his eyes at him.
"Come on, O Nobel One, let's get this done." He pushed the overly-dramatic doctor-who had frozen himself into a pose of honorable determination-into the corridor.
A few moments later they were at the entrance to Spock's quarters. Kirk issued the door code, and they trooped in, men on a mission.
Kirk looked around at the immaculate room.
"He keeps this place so clean, it's almost hard to believe that anyone actually lives in here," he said.
"Tell me about it. It's kinda creepy, actually. But I can fix it."
McCoy strode over to a small table that held a PADD and a neatly organized stack of computer chips. He swept his arm across the surface, and the table's contents clattered to the floor. He surveyed the scene for a second, then reached over to the perfectly-made bed and rumpled up the covers.
"Much better."
Kirk debated the wisdom of a response.
"It was like this when we got here," McCoy informed him. "Cat must've done it. You know how cats like to mess things up."
Knowing that a reprimand would have no effect on the doctor whatsoever, Kirk just heaved an exasperated sigh and gave him a Look. McCoy was apparently immune to the guilt-inflicting purpose of the Look, because he completely ignored it and asked,
"Where is that cat, anyways?"
His question was answered by a soft "Mowrr?" that came from the vicinity of his ankles.
"Well, hello there!" McCoy reached down and scooped up the small brown-and-white patched cat, who purred happily.
"See, Jim, he likes me! He's not mad that I forgot one tiny feeding." He looked down at the cat. "Yeah, you're not mad at me. No, you're a good kitty, aren't ya?"
Kirk snorted.
"He's probably just trying to get closer to your face so that he can bite your nose off." He moved over near McCoy and scratched under the feline's chin. "He sure is a funny-looking fellow. His ears and whiskers seem too big for his face."
"Mrrow!" was the indignant response.
"Aw, you hurt his feelings, Jim. I guess you'll just have to redeem yourself by going and looking for the food."
"Didn't Spock tell you where it was?"
"Well, yeah, but I wasn't exactly paying attention to what he was saying. I'm sure it's in a logical place. Oh, and he did say something about a chart."
They both started hunting around. It wasn't long before Kirk came across a chart displayed on a computer.
"Here Bones, I think this is it."
Still cooing at the cat in his arms, McCoy leaned over Kirk's shoulder.
The chart was extremely detailed, recording, day by day, the cat's food consumption, weight, and other similar subjects.
McCoy gazed at it intently.
"Remind me to tell Spock how persnickety he is."
"I'm sure that you'll manage to remember it just fine by yourself."
"Hmm. Yesterday isn't marked on here."
"I wonder why," Kirk deadpanned.
"Well, I'll just make something up and add it in here. Spock doesn't need to know about the whole mix-up."
McCoy tried to set down the cat, but the cat seemed to disagree with that, because he dug in his claws for all he was worth.
"Ow! Now, that's not very polite. Cut that out!" He looked pleadingly at Kirk. "A little help?"
With effort, the two of them managed to detach the animal from the doctor's uniform. He yowled a bit, then contented himself by latching on to Kirk.
"I think Spock needs to give his pet more attention," McCoy mumbled as he typed information into the chart. "There we go. Now, where's the food..."
"Why don't you try that cabinet?" Kirk indicated the above cupboard with a nod.
McCoy reached up and opened the small doors. Immediately, a cascade of dry cat food poured out from a sack inside the cabinet, showering down on him. The sudden force, coupled with his surprise, knocked him to the floor.
Kirk looked down at McCoy, who spat out a mouthful of kibble. The cat leapt from Kirk's arms, climbed into McCoy's lap, and started licking his face.
"Now you know how I felt when those tribbles landed on me," Kirk said. "Except, my experience was a lot furrier."
"Great, now I'm going to smell like cat food all day."
"I'm sure it will do nothing but enhance your kindly disposition."
"Oh, shut up."
As McCoy got to his feet, shaking cat food dust out of his hair, Kirk peered into the cabinet, planning to remove the now-empty sack. As he did so, something caught his eye.
Near the very back, a small, cloth-wrapped bundle sat in the corner. A section of the cloth has slipped, revealing a glimpse of what it contained.
"What in the world..."
"What?" McCoy asked, not bothering to look up from where he was wiping food from his uniform.
Kirk's curiosity couldn't be contained. He reached in and wrapped his fingers around the object. He drew it out, unwrapped it...and stared, with a mixture of shock and confusion at what he held.
"What?" McCoy repeated, coming over. Then, he saw what Kirk held, and stopped dead.
"Well...hell."
TBC
What could it be? My oh my, the suspense! Oh, and I haven't yet decided if I'm going to name the cat or not...Who knows, I might have the Enterprise crew hold a contest...I never can tell what ideas will pop into my mind. And once they pop in there, they often refuse to leave. They eat all my food and lose my homework. Out, Plot Demons, OUT I SAY!
ahem Sorry 'bout that...anyways,
Jasmin Rain: Aww.. you're making me blush, really. It's always great to have new people find my stories. Glad to have to here at Cheri: Nah, of course you're not biased...but I appreciate it anyways! Love ya!
HarryEstel: Yah, you just can't beat the Enterprise Three...I always enjoy throwing them at each other in banteral combat. (Hmm.. not sure if 'banteral' is a word...oh well. Writer's liberty.)
P.I.D.: Cats rock my socks off, and then they rock them back on! Sorry to hear about your mom's feline-denial. Maybe my story could inspire her to...well, probably not. But it's a nice thought.
Sadie Elfgirl: Well, if McCoy doesn't already know the conditions, he might now. The conditions of Forgetful-Petsitters-Purgatory...Where did that came from? I need a nap...But I'm glad that you're enjoying this!
Empress Leia: Cats' ears are pretty much pointed already though. So are the ears of my dog, actually, but he's a bit strange. You're on the right track though!
sunny-historian: Yeah, I had a black cat that kinda looked like Spock...if you really thought about it, and if you squinted really hard. I haven't yet decided what I'm going to do about the pink dress thing. It probably won't come up again in this story, but then again, you never know. :)
Bug the Corellian: It's the law of Bad Mental Images, I think. I'm with you- I can't wait to see where this will go! Because I don't really even know yet...
Thank you all! Reviewers will receive free salmon-flavored kibble!
