For author's note and disclaimer, see chapter 1

Chapter 2

Jim's alarm woke him in the morning as usual and he stifled a yawn, stretching lazily. A soft grunt coming from beside him as his elbow encountered something solid.

"Well, that's one heck of a way to wake up," McCoy drawled beside him and Jim offered him a sheepish smile as his friends rubbed his side.

"Sorry about that, I forgot myself." He had been sure he would find the crowded quarters to be more of a disadvantage than he obviously had. Instead he had slept in complete comfort under the extra blanket. Throwing his feet over the edge of the bed and sitting up he noted the couch was empty, the blanket neatly folded and there was some noise coming through from the bathroom.

"Hrmp," the soft grunt was a very common McCoy response and not something Jim thought meant he had taken offence in any way. His friends was just sometimes more expressive than verbal, an interesting trait.

"You want bathroom after Spock?" neither one of them usually took all that long, but they all needed to shave and shower.

"Don't mind either way," sitting up the doctor pulled his bag closer for a fresh uniform tunic as well as his toiletries.

"Go on then, I need to check my schedule either way," Jim decided. His mother would have told him it was polite to let the guests go first, but he would be hard pressed to say if McCoy counted as a guest or not. There were times he thought his mother would have scratched her head over the man, but she would have accepted him. It might just have taken her a little longer. McCoy could be very confusing, even to those who knew him.

The Vulcan and the doctor only nodded to each other in passing as McCoy took his turn. He barely took ten minutes but was still clean shaven and looking more alert when he came back out. Reaching for the tunic he had laid out before and a clean change of socks even as Jim went to take his turn. In the bathroom it was barely noticeable that he was no longer enjoying his own privacy. A razor lay on the shelf, two more towels hanging from the rack but that was the extent of it.

Shaving quickly himself before having a sonic shower he didn't take much longer himself. Finding the other two waiting for him as he got out.

"Alright Gentlemen, breakfast?" he suggested, rubbing his hands together for a moment before reaching for his clothes so he could get dressed.

"Don't get too excited," McCoy mused as Jim pulled on the uniform boots. "All this power conserving isn't exactly going to help matters any. We'll be lucky if there's coffee."

"I'm sure we'll have that at least," Jim decided in the spirit of optimism. Every single one in the galley was as addicted to the stuff as they were, they would make sure there was coffee if nothing else. Now, eggs, bacon and the such might be a bit harder but there was nothing wrong with being hopeful.

McCoy, more pessimistic gave a snort at that. "I could murder a bacon and beans, but I would be really surprised if we got that lucky."

"Well, the crew needs something to eat," Jim shrugged. "Even if all we get is some toast, it'll be something."

"Oh, it'll be something at least, I'm sure of that," McCoy decided.

Something turned out to be nutrient packs, little square dry things that tasted like nothing at all but left a foul taste in your mouth. They did not go overly well with coffee, and even worse with many other things. One square each for every member of the crew, all the nutrients a man needed, "and all the taste of cardboard…" McCoy stated as he gave his half eaten one a disgusted frown.

"Well, it shouldn't be for long," Jim mused. "I'm sure we can stick it out."

"Just the same, I'm going to have to prepare nutrient and vitamin shots for the crew," McCoy sighed. "There's going to be a lot of them that figures they can get through without those things, and that means they're going to need the booster when they realize they can't."

"You're not being a little pessimistic?" Jim frowned, forcing down the last of his. Spock was already finished, but then he claimed Vulcans were above taste.

"Realistic," McCoy shook his head. "If half a lifetime of my Mama's cooking didn't prepare me for that vile thing, then I don't know what would. No, take my word for it, half of them are gonna decide they might as well skip it, and the way we've already disrupted everyone's schedule and routine, there's gonna be people at each other's throats at the drop of a hat." '

"Illogical as none of the crew wears such garments," Spock stated, earning him a glare from the doctor.

"Maybe you should try to avoid your own prediction then," Jim nodded to the half square laying in front of him. "And finish that."

"Takes more of a man than I am," still McCoy picked it up again and struggled with it. "Just like Mama made it," he sighed after swallowing twice.

"I was under the general impression that humans often speak fondly of the culinary skills of their parents," Spock frowned lightly. Partially curious and partially trying to be provocative Jim noted. Spock did enjoy it when he could get a rise out of the doctor, even if he would never admit to it.

"If she had ever made one single meal that'd have you remember it fondly, it'd have given my Papa a heart attack from shock," McCoy snorted. "I won't say she ever poisoned anyone on purpose, but if my Papa hadn't been a doctor we wouldn't have survived it, and that's a fact. Now my Grandma, she could make soup on a nail and have you beg for more."

"Illogical," now Spock looked genuinely confused. "Nails as an ingredient for a soup would be worse than useless. They contain no nutritional value, and it would in fact be a hazard and a danger."

"It's an old expression Spock," Jim smiled softly. "It means she could make a meal out of nothing."

"Again, illogical," Spock insisted. "If one has no ingredients for food, it stands to reason one can not make make a meal."

"She could've a and she would've a," McCoy insisted with a drawl. This time Jim knew it was because Spock quite often found the Southern annunciation difficult to interpret. Heck, he found it difficult to interpret sometimes. Years of knowing Bones had left him with a sneaking suspicion that they had words in the South that the rest of the states were not privy to. While Bones had for some reason eliminated most of the drawl from his everyday speech, he was not above using it when he felt like it. Especially not when it aggravated Spock.

"Illogical," the Vulcan shook his head again. "Totally illogical."

"Well, Gentlemen, as much as I'd like to continue the conversation, I had best get to the bridge," Kirk mused as he stood. Spock followed suit instantly, and McCoy gave the last quarter of his nutrient square a rather hopeless look before he stuffed it into his mouth. By the time they seperated for bridge and sickbay, he was still chewing, trying in vain to swallow.

First part of the day was rather uneventful considering the circumstances. After two more meals of nothing but nutrient squares though he started getting a lot more calls about headaches and weariness, just as he had expected. Those things might have a never ending expiration date, and could survive anything the cockroaches could and be none the worse for wear, but for one to take in the nutrition they offered one actually had to eat them. Like he had suspected, a lot of the crew were trying to avoid doing this. The result, headaches, lightheadedness and short tempers. After checking them over to make sure there was nothing else wrong with them, he gave them the booster shots. It would not do for a doctor to get complacent and lazy and misdiagnosis out of lack of care.

"Well, what in tarnation did you expect, if you haven't eaten all day?" he grumbled as Riley sat in front of him on the examination table.

"I, ate," the young man hesitated.

"One, one nutrient bar," he shook his head, making sure that his displeasure was conveyed. "Instead of one each meal as you're supposed to, you just take one. Now how the heck did you think that'd be enough? If it were, we'd just give you one a day and have it over with. But no, we give you one a meal, should tell you something, shouldn't it?"

"Sorry doctor, but they, are rather hard to choke down…" the young man bit his lip.

"I don't care how hard you think it is, the next time they're served, you had by golly better eat them or I'll find a very unpleasant way to inject the vitamins," he shook his head. "As a member of this crew, it is your duty to make sure you're fit and ready for it, now how in the blue blazes do you propose to be fit and ready if you're half starved?"

"I'm sorry Doctor, it, it won't happen again," the Irish gave him a sheepish look as he slid off the table. "Am I, uh, am I free to go?"

"Well, I sure don't want you cluttering up the place around here," he snorted. "But no matter how many times I shoot you up with this, it don't make up for it, so unless you want to see just how annoyed I'll be if you come back, I suggest you go up to the galley and get you another one of them nutrient bars, and that right now."

"Yes sir, I will sir, at once sir," he nodded as he hurried out.

"Darn fools," McCoy shook his head as he put the hypo spray away, looking up as he heard his head nurse chuckle. "And what's so funny?"

"The fact that I know you've not really been following your own orders," she mused. "And I saw you give yourself one of those shots just an hour ago, right after you gave me one… I'd say we're not the only ones who finds those bars hard to stomach."

He snorted, "that's neither here nor there, I'm a doctor, I don't have to take my own advice. I know when it's gobbledygook."

"Would 'gobbledygook' be a medical term Doctor?" she asked with an amused smile.

"You're darn right it is," he stated firmly, turning back to the computer screen in front of him. Noting who had been down for the shoot and who hadn't, naturally the Captain was an exception, which meant the darn fool probably figured he was superhuman once more and could go without. More likely than not the man was doing a fair job of choking down the vile bars, but would probably still need some form of a boost to avoid headaches and fatigue. Spock would show no ill effects for another day or two, quite possibly up to three if he did indeed eat the bars as he made a show of. After that, it was anybody's guess, he always claimed he was Vulcan and did not need it, but he was also a lot more human than he cared to admit, and it was up to Bones to make sure that side of him suffered no ill effect.

When he left for the day he simply took his slim leather pouch with him, not bothering to hide a grin when he entered Jim's quarters and found him snatching his hand away from his forehead.

"Well, we got through the first day alright," he mused as he leaned back in his chair. "Any trouble you're aware of Bones?"

"Just a number of fools that came in cause they weren't eating, and a lot of fools that didn't even have the sense to do that," he stated as he unfolded the pouch. Picking up the hypo and loading it with the right vial.

"I noticed the enthusiasm over the meals wasn't that great," Jim nodded, eyeing him wearily. "Anyone told you not to bring your work home with you?"

"If some fools had the sense to come by when they should, I wouldn't have to," he grabbed Jim's wrist and turned his wrist outwards, jabbing the hypo into his forearm. The hiss of the discharge a very satisfying sound.

"Ow," Jim yanked his hand back and rubbed at the spot. "I wish you wouldn't do that. There was no need for it you know?"

"So you ate all three of your so called meals today, and you have not been experiencing any undue tiredness, any headache?" McCoy asked with an accusatory raised eyebrow. "I should be so lucky…"

"How do you even know? You've not been up on the bridge all day," Jim mused.

"I'm a doctor, why I keep having to remind everyone of that is beyond me," he gave a theatrical sigh. "Nevertheless it's true, and it so happens that I can recognize the symptoms when I see them. It also happens that you're the Captain of this here ship, and that means that if anyone you have to be fit, and no matter how ungrateful a task it is, I'll be darned if I don't do my best to make sure of it."

"You know Bones, it's that attitude that makes people say you're grumpy," Jim rubbed his arm again, then shot him a smile. "Never mind though, Spock's in the lab. Care for a game of chess?"

"Not my idea of a good time, but fine," taking his PADD he sat on the other side of the table, bringing up the paper he had meant to study on the screen.

"Uh, Bones, chess?" Jim prodded lightly.

"Set them up Jim, I'll move mine if you move yours, but I'm not gonna sit stare at the wall while I'm waiting for you," he kept his eyes on the screen. Aware that Jim was setting up the pieces and also very well aware that the Captain found his habit of refusing to give the game his full attention more than a little strange and annoying. Well, he did have other things to do, and he was not overly fond of chess. Going over the text meant it wasn't a complete waste of time, and he looked up everytime Jim moved his pieces and studied his face.

He would by no means consider himself an expert player, in truth he was more of a reluctant one, but he knew Jim well enough to know his expressions and his moves which gave him the one advantage Jim never seemed to realize he had. When playing Jim, he was playing Jim and not the opposite colour on the board…

It was still a relief when Spock got in and could take over the Captain sitting duty and he could devote his full attention to the PADD an hour or so before they all went to bed.

TBC

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