"Two-hundred-and-sixteen," said Nurse Chapel.
"Then we are done," said Doctor McCoy, immediately abandoning the vial he was holding, "That's more than half, if the captain asks."
Her laugh was partially genuine; breathy and brief. She continued filling the Hypo in her hand. After sealing it and adding it to their growing stash, she muttered "two-hundred-and-seventeen."
"Save some for tomorrow," sighed the doctor. He picked up the metal tub, nearly overflowing, and moved it to his desk in the other room. Obediently, Nurse Chapel followed.
McCoy shoved the tub aside, to accommodate his pen and tablet, a record tape, and two glasses. He took a bottle from beneath his desk and filled each glass with a thick, glowing orange liquid. One was offered to Chapel, which she accepted.
The entire medical crew was quickly depleting their sources of entertainment. Work was gone entirely, as they had not stopped at a foreign planet in five days, and would not be doing so again for at least twenty. For their upcoming shore leave, Captain Kirk tasked them with creating a supply of Hypo-injections for the crew, to compensate for the thinner atmosphere ofAristotle IX.
Since news of their mandated holiday, only two crewmen had visited Sickbay. Both for completely ordinary headaches.
"How'd your soup turn out?" McCoy asked, peering over his glass.
"Oh, I… I don't really know. I mean, I never liked it to begin with."
"I know you don't," he said, "But what did the Vulcan think?"
"I couldn't tell… you know how it goes. He said he liked it, but he didn't—."
"Well," muttered McCoy, "then he did. Spock wouldn't lie; he can't."
Chapel gave a half-convinced nod, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"He was preoccupied… it was those cards you told me about."
A gear clicked at the back of the doctor's mind, starting the same desperate revolutions. He stared on while she spoke, hearing nothing beyond 'father' and 'mother.'
"Sounds about right," he sighed, long after Christine was quiet. She rested her arms on the table, and tried to study his face.
"Aren't you feeling well, Doctor?" she asked, tilting her head.
He set down his glass, internally deciding – for perhaps the first time in his life – that it was half-full.
"Fine," he replied, "Bored out of my mind is all."
She offered to clean up the lab on her own. He quietly refused:
"No, I need to finish that report for the captain, anyway."
"Honestly, I don't mind staying. I can at least keep you company."
McCoy leaned back in his chair.
"I'd like that."
They raised their glasses, clinking the rims together in sarcastic celebration.
Maybe it's much too early in the game,
Oh, but I thought, I'd ask you just the same.
What are you doing,
New Year's Eve?