Title: "Aegri Somnia"
Author: tprillahfiction (2008)
Please see chapter one for header/warnings/disclaimer.
AEGRI SOMNIA (Chapter 3)
"Doctor McCoy." Spock nudged the doctor.
"Hmmm?"
Spock noted with half amusement that McCoy was curled up next to him with his head on the Vulcan's shoulder and half annoyance that the doctor had shirked his duties. "I have overslept my watch. Did you give me something?" To underline his irritation, Spock yanked the blanket off of McCoy. "Doctor, please get up. It's morning."
"Spock...uh..." McCoy rubbed his eyes, groggy from constant interrupted sleep. However, it had been rather cozy and warm next to Spock. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're like a walking heating blanket?"
"Landing party survival procedure dictates that on an alien planet, without an emergency sensor beam, one of us must stand watch in the night."
"Spock, dammit, will you listen? I'm fully aware of the landing party procedures. You were coughing during the night so I thought it better if you just slept through. Yes, I gave you something to sleep. It was so warm next to you that I accidentally dozed off too, right before morning. Okay?"
Spock stopped. "I was not coughing during the night."
"Well, you would know, right? Being as you are a physician and all!" At Spock's sigh McCoy softened. "This weather is getting to your lungs rather quickly I might add. I know your Vulcan hide absorbs all this moisture. You're probably just developing some sort of cold. I'll take care of it when we get back to the ship." McCoy paused, then added for emphasis, "If we get back."
"A cold indeed. Most likely you are utilitizing that as an excuse to give me a physical."
McCoy moved to the entrance of the structure. "Well, that is my job."
Spock remained from comment and joined the doctor to gaze outside.
"It's still raining," McCoy muttered.
"It is," the Vulcan acknowledged with a slight grimace.
"I'm gonna try to contact the ship."
Spock held up his communicator. "I already did Doctor. There is still no response. In the meantime, I shall inspect this shelter further."
After a few minutes of watching the Vulcan, McCoy pulled his dry tunic on and decided to re-check his medi-kit. "Well Spock, I don't know about you but my uniform certainly is wrinkled," he said to lighten the mood; glancing at his arm.
"Then it is no different to your usual shipboard appearance," replied Spock. As McCoy opened his mouth for a sarcastic response a high pitched transporter beam noise sounded with earsplitting intensity.
Spock, caught in the beam, promptly disappeared.
"Spock!" McCoy's breathing became rapid with fear. "SPOCK! Spock!" He stood rigid. Now what?
The shelter became very lonely with Spock's absence.
There was a slight pop, pop, pop. McCoy whirled around but found it was only the dripping of the rain coming inside the structure. His breathing became very loud in his ear as he swallowed the rising fear and ignored the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck. He pulled his communicator off his belt with a snap. "McCoy to Enterprise! Somebody answer up there!"
It was in vain. He waited. Spock didn't return.
McCoy picked up his own tri-corder and scanned the interior of the structure, then moved to the mouth to scan outside. Nothing was there. No Spock. No other life forms of any type.
The rain outside grew ferocious; a hurricane style wind started up and howled through.
He dashed outside in the wind and rain in a rash attempt to locate Spock but it was simply too intense and drove him back. Re-entering the shelter dejected, he slumped down on the ground, threw his tri-corder down and pulled the metallic blanket around his head.
Suddenly, another transporter hum sounded. McCoy picked up his tri-corder and slung it over his shoulder and lunged toward it; disappearing into the beam.
He solidified then found himself sliding down a steep metal sounding embankment covered in ooze. "Uhhh..."
He reached for the tri-corder and felt that it was gone. His phaser and communicator were also gone, dropped in the muck somewhere. He dipped his hand in the ankle deep gelatinous substance; reaching around for them but could find nothing. He cursed in frustration. The slime was disgusting and smelled like boiled bones.
He scrambled up and immediately slipped and fell onto his back. He clambered up again onto his feet not letting the desperation seep into his psyche. He felt the slime soak into his uniform and sting him a bit. Hopefully Spock was in this hellhole...somewhere, if he could only get to him.
McCoy managed to stay upright and cautiously moved many meters further along. He realized, as his eyes adjusted to the greenish low light level, that he could not figure out just what the hell this place was. Disorientated; he could feel an eerie buzzing sensation in here. He felt through his boots an intermittent pulse like a heartbeat. Possibly the pulse was an engine of some type, his mind surmised. Perhaps he was in a space craft? It was difficult to tell. Covering the walls of the corridor he found himself in, were interlocking metal tubes with a primordial ooze-like substance pushing out and dropping to the floor.
The smell in here was nauseating, like the stench of rotting garbage. Worse than that. It was an odor possibly worse than he'd ever smelled in his many years as a doctor. His velour blue tunic was now completely covered in a slime that he dearly hoped wasn't poisonous. He brought his hand up to wipe his forehead and he found he was sweating buckets. It was unbelievably hot and humid in here. Was that mildew he could smell? Ughh.
"Spock!" he cried, his voice swallowed up in the damp walls. "Spock! Where the hell are you?" He coughed to get the dampness out of his lungs.
McCoy shuffled through corridor after corridor; setting one foot in front of the other so he wouldn't slip and fall again; his footsteps clanging loudly on the metal floor. It was eerie, this huge ship with nobody around. He shivered, even thought the heat was becoming oppressive.
Noting a slant downward; he trudged down a series of corridors running deeper into the ship. These did appear to be inhabited. Lining the walls were half human, half machine-like creatures. They stood at attention; staring into space and focused on no-one. Apparently lifeless. McCoy stared at them and quickly hurried past.
He came upon a chamber.
As McCoy entered it, he paused, troubled. This area was different. It was filled with numerous glass tubes, like upright transparent tombs. Bodies were suspended in a liquid inside. What the hell... "My God," he noticed. "There are people...humanoids in these."
He crept up to one of the tubes and peered inside. The poor hapless humanoid inside was floating in the liquid with a terrified expression frozen onto its face. It seemed to be in storage for something. "Fucking hell..." he gasped as he left the tube with the humanoid in it and went from tube to tube searching.
Finally, he managed to find what appeared to be...Spock.
The Vulcan seemed to be intact; albeit nude, unconscious and floating inside some nasty green liquid.
McCoy placed his palms against the glass and slumped his face against it. "Spock..." he gasped. He slammed his fists on the glass. "Spock?" A small cry escaped McCoy's lips as he realized with a sinking heart that there was no way to get the Vulcan out of there, or no indication that Spock was even still alive.
He tried to figure out how the hell Spock managed to get into this predicament and who had put him in there as he searched the vicinity for something that would help.
There was nothing.
McCoy resumed pounding his fists in desperation on the glass tomb. "I can't do it. I can't get him out of here," he muttered to nobody in particular as his eyes roamed around the chamber.
His foot kicked against a reasonably large metal object. He picked it up. Examining it quickly, he discovered with contempt that it was an arm and quickly dropped it with a loud curse. Pulling himself together, his eyes fell on a set of controls next to the tube. He started punching; a transporter hum sounded and the glass tube disappeared leaving Spock crumpled onto the floor.
McCoy dropped to his knees next to Spock and noted the greenish purple tinge to his body. Spock was in full cardiac arrest. McCoy pulled the Vulcan up, expelled a water like fluid from him, then pumped Spock's chest. As he did so he intoned under his breath and continued till his arms were nearly numb and he was certain the Vulcan was dead. He tilted Spock's head back; breathed for him and kept up the resuscitation attempt. 'Come on Spock, you can't leave me...my God...don't leave me...'
Suddenly, Spock gasped, then retched and vomited. McCoy tilted the Vulcan's head so he wouldn't choke. "We need species 3259...we need to assimilate his body..." moaned Spock. The weak voice from Spock was so low McCoy could barely hear it.
"Spock?" McCoy lay his hand on the Vulcan's face. "Hey, Spock. Come out of it. It's only me."
The touch of the human's cool hand brought Spock back. "McCoy...".
"Yeah," McCoy smiled with relief. "You're alright now." Spock looked into McCoy's eyes and nodded.
McCoy glanced around the chamber, in case they were to be discovered. "Spock I have to get you out of here somehow."
The weak voice acquiesced with an equally weak nod. "Yes."
"Can you stand up? I don't think I can carry you."
In between hacking coughs, the Vulcan nodded and realized with a raising eyebrow that he was completely nude and sat up with difficulty. He took McCoy's proffered arm and raised himself up to a shaky standing position. McCoy slid his arm around the Vulcan's thin waist. Together, they staggered down the murky, dank corridor, back the way McCoy had come.
The pair continued for what seemed like hours trying to find their way. The further they went it appeared Spock was moving slower and slower till they both collapsed onto the ground. Spock shivered violently. He stoically tried but could not stop. McCoy knelt down next to him and cradled him in his arms.
"Leave me here..." Spock said, softly.
"I'm not leaving you, stupid. We'll just rest a bit."
"Leave me...find the Enterprise...that...is an order."
"My medical authority overrides your orders," grumbled McCoy. Resting his aching back reluctantly against the nearby wall, McCoy pulled Spock's head into his lap. "Shut up, goddammit, and rest." Spock gave up his protestations and McCoy eventually leaned his head back onto the metal wall, too exhausted to care about their surroundings.
McCoy felt himself sway and dizzy, and started to panic. They needed to find a way out of here and fast. But, he reasoned, they could rest for just a few more moments...
He started awake; groggy. The view was fuzzy. He found himself unable to focus and wondered what was wrong. He tried to draw a breath and found it wanting; they were losing oxygen in here. He looked down at Spock. The Vulcan with his head still in McCoy's lap was unconscious. McCoy roused him sharply by slapping him.
Spock's eyes fluttered open. The doctor sighed in relief and scrambled up pulling Spock up with him in desperation. "Come on! We're losing air. We have to get out of here now! NOW!" Spock blindly obeyed him and they carried down the passageway till McCoy spotted a transporter pad. "You came in on a transporter beam, let's see if hopefully that one takes us out of here."
They staggered desperately towards the transporter pad, till Spock's bare foot caught on a metal grating causing his legs to go out from under him and collapsing McCoy on top in a giant heap. McCoy let out a grunt as his hip connected with Spock's leg.
"McCoy!" gasped Spock.
"Ow. I'm gonna have one nasty bruise. Dammit. Are you okay?"
"Affirmative."
McCoy stood up, dragging Spock with him. "Come on Spock, lets get the hell out of here."
Together they made for the transporter pad and vanished.
...end of chapter 3...