Carnival

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Chapter Eight

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Trust and Tranquilizers

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It must have been a nightmare; a goddamned figment of his imagination, because there was no way in hell Joanna could have been on Pacifica. Joanna was on Delos IV – a planet located no where near the Carnival. Then how could he explain what the hell just happened?

He was standing by the post Jim and Vienna left him at –well, more like leaning - when he noticed his daughter in the crowd. It was impossibility, yet there she was – no mistaking those baby blues and stubborn face.

Bones left his post and attempted to flag her down, but she seemed to get further and further away from him. Maybe it was a hallucination? He was intoxicated after all, and the lights and noise weren't particularly helpful. He probably looked like an idiot running around half-cocked and swaying in the breeze. Joanna was in her nurse's robes though… how many other girls looked like his Joanna and were training in medicine?

Damn, this was going to be an embarrassing explanation if this was just a drunken mirage.

McCoy caught up to his daughter and turned her around to face him. There was recognition in her eyes and the CMO was baffled. "Jo… what in the world are you doing here?" He was trying desperately to hide the southern drawl that sometimes peeked out with a glass of Brandy.

She shook her arm out of her father's grip and took a few steps back. It was Joanna all right, but why wasn't she speaking? Maybe she smelt the booze off of his breath and was reprimanding him silently. Her mother had the same habit.

Yet her actions threw off McCoy because Joanna suddenly turned and ran away from him, occasionally looking back at his with an impish smile that reminded Bones of when she was a mischievous toddler. Nothing about this encounter was making any sense – it probably wouldn't even if he was sober, but the old fool followed anyway, feeling like he was stepping into a dream.

Joanna led him down a hidden path, and at the end of it was his old house in Georgia. It looked aged and dilapidated. With a scowl Bones wondered if it was his wife that let it fall into a state of disrepair. With a bigger scowl he remembered that it didn't matter since it became hers after the divorce.

The young nurse entered it with a giggle, the door snapping shut behind her. McCoy shook his head. "Now I'm really dreaming… this can't be here… she can't be here… hell, I can't be here." The doctor turned around to leave before he became too entranced by this delusion, but the scream he heard behind him chilled his blood.

Of course it was Joanna.

"Aw hell…"

McCoy swore and dashed in the house. He knew that scream; even the most abominable father couldn't have mistaken it for any other child's. If this was some stupid nightmare, he couldn't just leave her - his conscious wouldn't allow it.

He skipped the foyer and entered the kitchen at a run. Doing so nearly got himself gutted on an ill-placed counter top that he didn't remember being part of his kitchen. The bloody words on the walls weren't part of his memory either, but the name was an intricate part of his everyday thoughts.

What was his little girl's name doing smeared on the walls…? He looked around for an answer, then the dismembered woman locked into his vision and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.

When he came to seconds later, he found himself staring into the lifeless eyes of the woman in the dishwasher. Immediately he scrambled to get away, managing to back into a cupboard with a dull thud. A knife slipped off the counter top above him and embedded itself in the linoleum by his boot. All the stimuli bombarding him made Bones throw up in fear and disgust. If his daughter's name was written on the walls, would he eventually find her like this?

McCoy pulled himself off of the floor and wiped his mouth. With vigor he bolted into the dining room and took one look at the two bodies at the table before he kept on running into the living room. He had no clue where he was running to, or even what he was running through, but every survival instinct in his body was telling him to just keep moving. All sorts of horrible visions attacked him with every door he opened. The doctor began to panic and shake, but every movement ceased when he made his way to the master bedroom and found his Joanna lying there.

He heard himself say her name, but the high-pitched whine that came forth was foreign and strange. It was like Bones was in some sub-set of reality where every detail was skewed, including the state of his daughter. Pieces was the immediate word that came to mind, followed by mess and oh-my-god-that's-my-baby.

There was blood. By god there was more blood out than in. McCoy knew that meant death, but his brain wasn't letting himself believe it. No, he was a doctor, he could fix this. He had to fix this.

He gathered up the pieces in his arms and just stared at them.

And stared.

"I… I can't…. I can't put her back together…. I can't…" The realization that there was nothing in his power to bring her back slipped into his mind like an insult. He was useless. He was always so damned useless.

"Leonard. Focus only on what is in front of you."

That voice. It seemed to come from right in front of him, but there was no one there. It was calm and collected, therefore, it could only belong to one pointy-eared, green-blooded bastard he knew. What was he doing here? There was a chopped up woman in his arms for god's sake! His precious daughter…. dismembered….

"She's dead Spock. My little girl. There was nothing I could do…"

He felt the intense chill of Spock's hands on his face - even though he couldn't see them. There was a slight tremble in the Vulcan's fingers that for some reason soothed the doctor more than the initial touch. Spock's fingertips slowly crept up his face, and McCoy knew what the man was trying to do. He wanted to resist - to keep Spock out at any cost. This horrible situation put him into a state that Bones would never have let Spock see - had he the choice. The more human frailties Bones showed, the more Spock would retreat into his Vulcan side and put up those walls no one could climb. It wasn't worth it.

"It was a lie doctor, let me show you."

McCoy yearned to scream in protest, but he could already feel his mind being penetrated by Spock. It was such a terrible feeling of disorientation that Bones became lost in the push and pull of emotion. There was his own fear and sorrow that he understood very well; but intermixed was an unfamiliar blend of worry and concern that dominated over anything he could throw at it. It blanketed him, but did not suffocate. It was as if someone embraced him in a tight, never ending hold… and then told him everything was going to be all right.

The doctor melted into that feeling and let all the fear and hurt slip away into the vast sea of tranquility Spock offered.

Bones told himself that if he ever woke up, he'd never insult Spock's bedside manner again.

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After experiencing his own personal hell, the doctor woke up feeling much better than he originally thought he would. There was a well of calmness and clarity that soothed the trauma and helped him focus on his current state, rather then the one he left behind. If he didn't know any better, McCoy would have thought he became a fraction more logical in his thinking. The entire Joanna fiasco could not have been real; Spock expressed that much to him through whatever Vulcan voodoo he managed to pull off.

McCoy slowly opened his eyes, and took in his surroundings. At once he wondered how he managed to land himself in such a bizarre turn of events – again.

He was sitting in a large swan, floating in the middle of some gaudy tunnel. If that wasn't silly enough, the place was filled with murals of various lovers doing strange and erotic things. His ears went slightly pink as he discovered that wasn't the only thing odd about his new predicament. Bones was chained to the bird-like boat through a large loop embedded in the base of the white floorboard; the chain continued through the loop to an unconscious and bloody Spock. The Vulcan was currently sprawled half on the seat, half on the ground. His shirt was torn Kirk-style, but in the midst of his hairy chest was a fist sized ruby implanted in his sternum.

"My god man…" Bones uttered under his breath as he struggled to pull Spock into a sitting position and evaluate what the hell happened. It was as if someone super-heated the jewel and melted it into the Vulcan's flesh and bone. The skin peeled away from the area cleanly, but it still wasn't a pretty sight.

Using his dermal regenerator, McCoy stopped the bleeding and cleaned the wound up a little. While doing so, he discovered that the gem seemed to have attached itself to Spock's nervous system and was glowing from the bio-electric energy in Spock's body.

The doctor stared at the gem with a mystified expression before deciding that it was best to wake up the Science Officer and ask him what the devil was going on; after all, it was probably some stupid stunt of his that resulted in them in the middle of the most embarrassing place on Pacifica.

Bones pulled out a hypo-spray with some adrenaline and injected it into Spock's carotid artery. Immediately the Vulcan began to stir.

First Spock touched a hand to his chest with a sleepy frown, and then he opened his eyes and stared at McCoy as though he were hallucinating. A very small smile played across the normally passive face of the Vulcan, making Bones wonder if there was some head trauma he didn't find in his earlier scan.

"You all right Spock?"

The Vulcan's momentary visit to the world of human expression diminished in an instant, and Spock looked around at their surroundings with scientific interest. The murals on the walls only held his gaze for a few seconds before he disregarded their presence and kept is eyes within the boat. "I believe I am functioning adequately, though I'm contaminated by the enemy." He stared awkwardly at the ruby gently pulsating a few inches beneath his chin.

"Spock, what in tarnation is going on? I remember..."

Spock interrupted Bones' speech by taking a deep breath and driving his fingers into the flesh around the gem. Blood gushed from the self-inflicted wounds and Bones hollered at him in a rather colorful manner before diving on top of him to try and physically stop him. Spock was stronger however, and considered the doctor's pitiful attempts to wrest his own hands away from the ruby slightly amusing.

"Are you out of your Vulcan mind! You're going to kill yourself you stupid, stubborn, son-of-a-!"

Spock let out a yelp as what appeared to be a bolt of red energy leapt from the crystal and into his hands. The energy rendered his muscles useless and Bones was thrown from Spock as soon at the Vulcan's hand went limp since the force the doctor was exerting on the Vulcan suddenly back lashed. He muttered obscenities under his breath while he righted himself and brandished an empty hypo-spray. "Do that again and I'll hypo you into next week!" He fumbled for the dermal regenerator again to patch the new wound Spock created.

"That is an impossible threat doctor; lest you have some method of time-travel I am unaware of." Spock massaged life back into his limbs and frowned at his inability to wrench the foreign object from his chest.

"Just… stop talking you masochist. You're worse then Jim when he's all riled up."

"I assure you, I took no sexual gratification in attempting to remove this artifact from my person."

"I didn't- I was- It- It's a saying you green-blooded hobgoblin!"

"Your insults become less amusing the more they are used, doctor. This is an important factor of Terran humor that you cannot seem to grasp."

"Dammit Spock! I'm not here to amuse you!" Bones pulled out a hypospray with enough anesthetic to knock out a Klingon in full blood rage. "See this? If you keep yapping it's going right in your jugular." He waved it in Spock's face.

The Vulcan reached up with inhuman reflexes and crushed the object with his usual grace and efficiency. The tranquilizer dripped harmlessly down his arm and the tool toppled to the base of the boat with a conclusive thunk.

"We are wasting valuable time bickering when we should be working together to find a solution to our problem." Spock had the nerve to cock a smug eyebrow. When the doctor stared at his dispenser in silent horror, Spock continued his talk by raising his right hand. The chain that connected this hand to Bones' left, tugged noisily at the loop which bound the both of them to the floating swan.

"If both of us attempt to pull at our bonds, perhaps the bolt will loosen."

"Dammit Spock, I'm a doctor not a steroid munching muscle-head." He pulled at the bolt, demonstrating his ineptitude at anything physically strenuous. Spock sat back in his seat as if giving up on escape. If Jim were here, this sort of situation would not be a problem. He put a hand to his brow and Bones swore he saw the man wince.

"Spock, are you sure you're all right?"

"I will be if you cease inquiring about my well-being." There was a definite tone of annoyance in Spock's voice that the doctor was sure did not stem from his mother-henning - well, not entirely from it anyway.

"It's my job to nit-pick you over-grown calculator, and I'm going to keep at it until you stop avoiding the question!"

Spock pursed his lips in an un-Vulcan-like manner, then mirrored McCoy's stubbornness. "Have it your way doctor, it is probably best that you are informed about our circumstances and how dire they are becoming." The Vulcan straightened in his seat and adopted a pose that would be comfortable for a lengthy explanation. "Madame Zira is the one who implanted this device on my person and is currently attempting to weaken my morale through psychological means. She is doing this by broadcasting her thoughts into my own. She states that we cannot escape this tunnel and that the Captain will be along shortly. She also adds that one of us will not be making it back to the ship alive and that it is up to us to determine who that person will be."

Bones' eyes widened. "What?"

"Do you genuinely require me to repeat myself, or are you announcing your disbelief in a vocal manner?"

The doctor just stared at Spock with a look of incredulity. "You mean that Ringmaster woman from before is in your head?"

"Affirmative in a manner of speaking. Zira is also responsible for your earlier predicament. She attempted to traumatize us both because, from what I can cogitate, she lives to feel the fear of others. She determines our anxieties by being close enough to read our thoughts or through interrogation through her Dolls - all of which possess one of these crystals." He tapped the gem with some disdain. "Which allows her to see and hear everything they do, and even possess them if she so wishes."

"Why do you have one…? Can she take you over…?" Why didn't their Shore Leave ever go as planned?

Spock closed his eyes as if cringing at a memory - or perhaps something Zira was saying in his mind. "I theorize that Zira is entertained by meddling with my thoughts. I am not in the best of mindsets after the events I witnessed prior to waking. I do not think she can fully take a hold of my body; that would require great effort on her part if I choose to be unwilling, and I assure you… I am unwilling."

Bones didn't want to continue on this subject and asked no further questions. They both sat in silence before a strange noise attracted their attention. It sounded like a waterfall somewhere in front of them, but it was unlikely since they had never moved from their current position and waterfalls were generally believed to be stationary.

"What in blue blazes is that…?"

Spock strained his ears and raised an eyebrow. "… I believe it to be a stampede of some sort heading our way."

"A what!" The doctor stared down the tunnel, trying to discern what was around the bend. Soon girlish screams became audible and both McCoy and Spock stared at each other with confused faces.

Rounding the corner came a drenched James. T. Kirk - his shirt surprisingly intact. He was immersed in water up to his waist and was attempting to wade with all the speed he could muster. Spock speculated that his current pace was co-related to whatever source was supplying the feminine shouting. Bones waved a free hand at him in greeting, but James' face didn't seem to change in expression.

Following close behind came a few figures that both Spock and Bones vaguely remembered from their travels. There was Edith Keeler from the time Bones nearly killed himself with his own hypospray, and Luma the Eymorg from the time Spock's brain was stolen. Other faces included Droxine, Yeoman Jamal and Yeoman Rand. Some women were harder to recall, such as Marta the Orion; also Kirk's old flames Dr. Helen Noel and Miramanee. There was also Deela and Andrea the Android lurking behind that infuriating witch that could turn into a cat. A whole score of others filled the tunnel; some of them were carrying infants and toddlers - a few looked ready to kill.

Spock just stared at the oncoming traffic of splashing women and said, "Fascinating," while Bones pressed a hand to his face in silent horror. They were all the women Kirk had ever had a romantic interest in… and they were nearing the triple digits.

"SPOCK! BONES! Help! They're trying to kill me!"

The Vulcan stiffened and tried to come up with a plan, but came up blank. Bones just stared through his fingers and slowly shook his head in shock. He knew the Captain was a ladies man, but this was ridiculous. He watched as the women began to overtake him and grab at his limbs like they belonged to a celebrity. It made Bones feel ill.

"Damn it Jim, I think you deserve it."

Authors Notes:

I stayed up way too late trying to finish this and have very little time to sleep before work. I won't to get this chapter finished yesterday, but writers block has again plagued me when I thought I would be free. This is one of the few stories I'm certain I can finish... it's just that I'm running out of sweet sweet motivation. I think it's because I'm reading a dry Trek novel. I'll need to find something more interesting. Any suggestions?

I tried to make this a Bones chapter... but he's so hard to write for! I tried to be as crotchety as I could... but the circumstances were difficult and there aren't very many synonyms for 'damn'.

That reminds me. I've noticed a lack of Forum activity and I was wondering if that is because there is not an interest, or because there isn't a good forum? I've set one up in case people (like myself) wish to have a place for casual conversation. There are so many familiar faces and talented writers out there that I thought would be nice to talk to and learn from. Anyone is welcome to 'The Bridge', I'm planning to frequent there if it becomes a small hive.

I also apologize for any mistakes in this chapter or choppy paragraphs... its 4:30am after all. I will edit it ASAP.

We're almost at the end!