Chapter 8- Caretakers
With the unfailing accuracy of a strontium atomic clock, I was awakened every two hours and asked questions MENSA members would find difficult. I wasn't sure if I should have been honored that he thought me so brilliant or if he was simply asking questions that he knew the answers to. What I was sure of was that I felt a lot of pressure to give the correct answer in a short amount of time or else be drug back down to sickbay.
Spock: "What is the atomic weight of niobium?"
Me: "I think you made that up, but I didn't take chemistry. Some Russian guy invented the periodic table, though."
Spock: "Did Mr. Chekov tell you that?"
Me: "Probably."
Spock: "If it were two hours later, it would be half as long until midnight as it would be if it were an hour later. What time is it now?"
Me: "Computer, what time is it?"
Computer: "It is currently 00:47."
Me: "That's what time it is."
Spock: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"
Me: "42."
Spock: "I do not understand."
Me: "It is the answer to life, the universe, and everything according to Douglas Adams. But if you don't get it that makes two of us."
And so it was for exactly 24 hours. At the end of it all I was more exhausted than when I started between the fitful catnaps and impossible questions so I fell into a deep sleep with 30% more winks than I was previously allotted. Spock woke me up 6 hours later and asked me to recite something, so I mumbled a line from 'Hamlet'. "To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come."
"The playwright William Shakespeare, Doctor?" he asked with a small lilt. "If I recall, the protagonist is contemplating suicide in the scene to which you refer."
"The poet that commands my heart." I sighed. "But really, I just want to sleep and not the metaphorical kind."
The second time I woke when the bed shifted slightly with the weight of a body. Spock never sat on the bed. I felt a small shake on my shoulder and I slowly opened my eyes and blinked until McCoy came into focus. I frowned and asked, "Why are you out of bed? You'd better not be working."
He smiled faintly and replied, "No, I'm not working. I'm bored and Jim is about to drive me up a wall with his constant hovering. Jesus, you would think he was my mother or something."
I chuckled imagining Jim leaning over McCoy watching him sleep with a suspicious eye. Who knew he would be so vigilant? "What kinds of questions did you get?"
He gave a small laugh and admitted, "I don't remember all of them, but he asked me the dumbest shit like can a dog look up and why did the chicken cross the road? When I reminded him it was a joke that he was supposed to have the answer to, he accused me of cheating and threatened to take me back. Finally I told him if he woke me up one more time with a stupid question I would punch him in the nuts. After that it went pretty well." We both shared a laugh and he countered, "How about you? If Jim is a mother hen, Spock is like a pit bull. Did he give you the Maru or some equally infuriatingly impossible conundrum?"
I scoffed. "The Maru would have been a cakewalk. I think he gave me questions from the Vulcan Science Academy entrance exam, but he has been nothing short of faithful in executing his duties."
"Wouldn't expect anything less." McCoy smiled. "That is why I didn't object to your discharge. I knew he would take care of you. He aggravates the hell out of me most times, but damn it if he isn't the most reliable person on the ship."
We lapsed into an easy silence until I glanced back at him and asked, "Are the Klingons still here?"
"Judging by the stench I would say yes, but that nasty smell is probably soaked into the carpet and walls by now. We will have to scrub the ship from top to bottom to get rid of it. In fact, after we drop them off we are heading to one of the Federation's starbases just inside the neutral zone to do just that. They have a crew of hazmat engineers on standby the minute we pull in. Besides, we have to restock medical supplies and the crew needs at least a little break after what they have put up with over the last week. They can run around and blow off steam planetside while the engineers decontaminate the ship."
"Planet?" I asked in amazement. "I thought starbases were satellites."
"Not all." He clarified. "Some of the nicer ones are on planets. And this particular one is almost like a resort, it is sunny and warm with beaches. There is a satellite base closer, but I told Jim they wouldn't have enough supplies for sickbay." He said with a sly smile. "You have to work in shore leave when you can get it."
I smiled at his deviousness. "Ulterior motive or not, I am sure the crew will thank you."
He lowered his eyes and shook his head slowly. "They won't know it was my idea. I will let Jim take credit for that. I don't need thanks, I'm no glory hound. Even you would agree that the important thing is the psychological well being of the crew and this fits the bill."
Why are you so afraid to let people know how caring and thoughtful you really are? What are you hiding?
"Anyway," he sighed, "I should leave you alone. You look sleepy. Maybe I can come back later and we can get something to eat. We still have to maintain sufficient nutrient levels, because we know how that story goes, right?" He gently taunted. I chuckled and shook my head. He never let an opportunity for a jab pass him by. He smiled softly and stood up. "Get some sleep."
He turned to see Spock standing in the doorway. Neither of us knew how long he had been there, but he seemed to feel like an intruder in his own room. "I did not intend to disturb you." He stated stiffly. "Six hours have passed so I had returned to awaken her according to schedule."
McCoy's voice grew darker and it was tinged with a slight hint of embarrassment. "Yeah, I got it, Spock. She's not dead."
"Doctor, perhaps you should rest as well in compliance with your discharge orders." He observed. I knew he didn't mean it in a backhanded kind of way, he was expressing concern as much as he was able. I also knew McCoy wouldn't see it that way.
McCoy paused inches from the half-Vulcan and gave him a weary look. "Thanks for the advice, Dr. Spock." He growled.
"Doctor, I do not profess to be a physician, but…" Spock tried to explain before McCoy cut him off.
"Can it, hobgoblin." He replied waving him off he walked away.
Spock watched after him with a resigned sense of sadness. I wondered if he ever grew tired of being misunderstood. I also wondered if he was thinking of how he could have phrased his words more casually so he wouldn't fail yet again to make even the smallest of connections with the doctor. Or anyone. He seemed so isolated from the others and I found it disheartening especially since he allowed me to see a small part of him that had so much more to offer than his analytical prowess. People largely interacted with him as they would a computer, but he was so much more than that and it seemed as though Jim, Uhura and I were the only ones that had put in enough time and effort to see that and it really was a shame for all involved.
He really did try insomuch as he knew how to reach out to others, but each time he had been met with disappointment and I hoped that he wouldn't become discouraged because he was truly….well, fascinating. The problem was he spoke in a language of subtleties that were often too minute for most to detect. Humans were used to larger shifts in tone or expression to be detectable and the magnitude required was far too theatrical for him. At least he seemed more content with being the writer rather than the actor, he would leave center stage for Jim in favor of being the architect of plans and schemes.
He finally turned to me and asked, "How is your condition, Doctor? Has it improved?"
I smiled at him and thought that although his wording sometimes required decoding, it was often worth it. "I am feeling better, thanks for asking."
He nodded and continued, "Have you experienced the need to regurgitate or been having visual anomalies?"
"No," I laughed, "I know head injuries in and out, Spock. I would easily recognize the severe symptoms and I certainly would have told you." He nodded again in approval.
"You may be pleased to know that the Klingons will be disembarking in 7 hours and 11 minutes." He informed me. "At the conclusion of your next sleep cycle if you feel well enough to attend, the crew will assemble to see them off. No doubt the mood will be excessively festive."
"Will you be there?" I asked.
"As the 2nd in command, protocol requires it. However, perhaps none so much as I will be glad to see them depart. Due to the Captain's sensitive gag reflex, I have been largely the one to escort the Klingon delegation about the ship. Vulcans may be superior to humans in most every aspect, but we are not entirely superhuman in ability or tolerance. In fact, as inappropriate as it may sound, I am thankful for your circumstances. Not because I wish you any harm, but the schedule of your care regimen does happily relieve me of my duties on a regular basis." His eyes glimmered with playfulness.
I laughed. "Well, you can thank McCoy for pissing the Klingon off in the first place. If he knew when to keep his mouth shut we wouldn't be in this situation."
He placed his hands behind his back and replied, "I have not known a time when the doctor has ever practiced restraint when it comes to verbal assault, and I think it unlikely to change no matter how many negative responses his approach garners. If promotions were granted on verbal warfare, the doctor would have attained the rank of Admiral by now."
"What's above an Admiral?" I chuckled.
"Nothing, although Starfleet may have to create a special designation befitting his gift for sarcasm and theatrics." He mused with a small twitch of his mouth. "However, facetious speculation is an illogical pursuit and I must not keep you from complying with your orders to rest. I will return in six hours. Be well, Doctor."
"Thanks, Spock." I called after him. "Thanks for everything you have done for me. Playing your lute, caring for me, watching over me with such dedication, I appreciate it."
He paused and glanced over his shoulder. The crown of his cheek and the tip of his ear blushed a light shade of green and the corner of his mouth pulled into a smile- an actual smile rather than the small tug of a tiny smirk and my heart froze in wonder. It was like glimpsing the face of God, a great unknown was revealed and I was filled with a surge of happiness. He said nothing as he left, perhaps knowing that he had already said all he could with his unexpected gesture.
I was no longer tired, but filled with a buzzing energy that came with making a huge leap. Sleep suddenly felt like a waste of precious time, so I got up and showered. It felt good to be back in uniform although I did feel a little weak and groggy. I was looking forward to holding my nose and waving goodbye to the Klingons as they departed as did so many others. I was looking forward to having dinner with McCoy. I was looking forward to seeing the starbase. I was looking forward to life in general thanks to Spock's small yet monumental smile.
