For Author's note and Disclaimer, see chapter 1

Chapter 7

"Spock," Jim nodded to his first officer when he got back up on the bridge. "There are three combatants in sickbay, had a fight with each other. When McCoy is done with them, could you talk with them, find out just what they were doing, why, and have some suitable punishment for them?"

"If you so wish Captain, but may I suggest if they are currently suffering through the doctor's ministrations, might this not be punishment enough?"

"You might have a point," he allowed a chuckle to escape him. "But don't let him catch you saying that Spock. The temperature down there is running low, and his temper is running all the hotter for it."

"Interesting," Spock decided.

"To be perfectly honest with you, I am pretty sure that he scared all further thoughts of fighting out of them already, but given what the ship is going through right now we still have to make an official report of it," he mused as he took his seat in the Captain's chair.

"There is some truth in that statement," Spock nodded. "I have noted that the crew is somewhat more quralesom than normally. An increase of twelve point three percent to be precise, if one is to exclude the good doctor of course."

"Alright, I'll take the bait," Jim chuckled good naturedly, it was nice to have some normalcy. Spock taking a dig at the doctor, even if he was not present was quite normal. Also, facincating, as some would say given how the first officer claimed Vulcans were at all times above such behaviour. "What is the percentage if one 'was' to include our dear doctor in the calculation?"

"Sixteen point eight," Spock stated most seriously.

"So, I take it that you consider our ships surgeon to be the cause of four point five percentage of all growling and grouching aboard this ship," Jim gave a much needed chuckle. "I was right, don't let him hear you say that, or you're gonna feel every point of those percentages."

"I will take this under advisement, Captain," Spock inclined his head and turned his full attention back to the station two engineers were trying to manhandle back into some semblance of working order.

Given the way it pained him to see his ship in the condition she was, panels open, sparks flying from time to time, and the loud strange groans coming from behind the panels Jim figured he knew one of the reason Bones seemed reluctant to leave sickbay no matter how much he complained about the cold. It was one place on the ship where the man truly felt at home, strange as it might seem to others.

When he was at the academy he had visited the medical section from time to time, routine check ups were performed by those learning medecine, small injuries treated by the same. He had been amazed over the way they handled the equipment, how they seemed to make sense out of the illegible information on the screens, and not a little afraid sometimes that perhaps they did not and were really only pretending.

Then he met McCoy and truly was amazed over the way he handled it. How he instantly seemed to grasp those incomprehensible texts and diagrams, give the man an outdated microscope. A museum piece and an old beaker and the man somehow managed to turn out a vaccine that would cure them all. It was no wonder his socicable skills were sometimes a little lacking, and even Jim who considered him a friend would admit as much. McCoy's brain simply wasn't wired that way. He knew he liked a hand on his shoulder sometimes and could recount the psychiatric textbook about why human contact was needed, he could even advise in it and apply it to a practical situation when it was presented to him.

He could however not tell you why it was when he was feeling despair he himself craved that same touch.

McCoy rarely instigated physical contact for his own sake, he laid a hand on his nurse's arm to allow her to feel his support. He patted her shoulder for the very same reason, and would send the junior staff back to their duties with a warm hand on the back as they left. He just didn't seem to realize that he was allowed to seek out the same comfort for himself if he needed it, and as closely as Jim tried to watch him at times he never quite was able to tell all the times his friend would benefit from it.

Considering their current low status crisis of a predicament he had hoped that the crew would simply band together tighter while McCoy had warned him tempers would flare. A fact he as the captain had wanted to deny because he wanted to believe that his crew were above such petty actions.

It appeared once more that he had been wrong and his psychiatrically inclined doctor, no matter how much the man seemed disinclined to use this part of his education, had been spot on as always. He really should be a little quicker to listen to him, and have another look on his diplomas at some point. Wasn't doctors typically supposed to be inclined to brandish those on the walls? He wasn't sure if he had ever seen Bones' aside from their names on the documents starfleet had pushed on him.

Speaking of which, since Bones had already been occupying the position of a CMO on their previous posting, he hadn't really looked through his documents all that closely when he asked to have the man transferred with him. He had been quite satisfied with what he already knew about him and how he worked.

Browsing through the document to make sure he put the right combination of letters down on the transfer request and crew manifest had been about as far as he went with the thing. McCoy had been left on that ship a couple of weeks by himself before the transfer was complete as Jim took over command of the Enterprise. He never had seen a problem with that, it was natural. He was allowed to request a new CMO in place of the one who was retiring and he had known whom he wanted. It was as simple as that to him.

Scratching his chin now he found himself wondering if Bones' actually had those fancy looking diplomas lying around somewhere. In some old forgotten drawer of sickbay perhaps.

As the doctor called up to inform them that the crew was ready for their dressing down he was almost tempted to ask, but instead he just turned the matter over to Spock with a shrug.

"Still holding out down there?" he asked softly.

"Sure, like we have a choice," the soft voice drawled. "Got another group coming down for routine examination in a bit. Then I'll requisition an oxygen mask so I can head back up to the lab again."

"Alright, make sure you don't stay there too long," Jim nodded.

"You can bet your fancy chair I won't," McCoy snorted. "I won't be staying up there one blessed second longer than I have to."

"Want me to send Spock with you?" it wasn't that he did not trust McCoy, it was just that he did not trust McCoy not to do something that might be considered slightly foolish and dangerous if he thought he was sparing the rest of his staff.

"No thank you," the snort that came with the reply did not surprise him at all. "I'll be quite miserable up there already thank you very much."

"Just mind yourself," Jim hit the button again. "I don't want 'any' of my crew suffering from exposure."

"You do your job Jim, and I'll do mine," the slightly sharper voice came back again.

"Alright, I'm sorry I mentioned it," he chuckled softly to himself. Knowing that Bones had probably bit down a piece of that statement, as such a challenge would be ill suited to the com. "I'll see you later, Kirk out." He offered Spock another shrug as the first office raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that he knows what he's doing," he mused.

"Or, in any case, he would like it to appear as if he does," Spock stated.

"There is that," Jim nodded. Sometimes, it was a fine line to cross. "In any case, once you're done with those men, could you make sure that someone goes down with something hot to drink to sickbay? I have a feeling it'll be greatly appreciated by then."

"I will take care of it Captain," Spock agreed and Jim was able to sit back as he watched the frantic repairs taking place all around him.

TBC

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