Author's note: Sorry, but this isn't humour anymore. I would not have written this horrible chapter if I didn't think that TOS fans know one thing: Comedy is best when it's mixed with drama or tragedy. This chapter contains racism, implied sexual abuse and a gruesome death from a botched abortion. You can skip it.

Chapter 3 - Dreaming of the Endeavour

"Leonard Horatio McCoy, you open this door NOW or I'm going down to sickbay and start smashing things." When Lily-Lee got back in, McCoy had moved to sit at the table, still holding his head in his hands.

"If you didn't look so pitiful, I'd smack you!" She was putting her dress back on. "What is going on in that big fat head you have? This idea has got nothing to do with me or my vagina, I'm sure of it. It's something else."

"I'm sorry, Lily-Lee."

"Is this because of the way I look? Let me remind you that you're not the only one crossing a species border here and I could say a lot of things about your patchy hair and baby-toothed mouth."

"It's not that. I am sorry."

"No wonder you have such a big cranium, you need room for all the BULLSHIT." She was opening the door and walking out, but turned around to deliver an afterthought.

"If we were back home, I'd say you were overdue for a dream."

– *** –

Captain's log, July 10, 1769. It was my intention to let the Endeavour depart from Tahiti two days ago, but we are still anchored. Two of the crewmen, Clement Webb and Samuel Gibson, have jumped ship and are hiding somewhere on the island, refusing to embark. Yesterday I took ten islanders hostage to convince the rest of them to find and return my men. This morning... "Ah, there you are, doctor Monkhouse. Come in, have a seat. I'll just finish this log entry."

The doctor sat down in a beautiful polished chair. The ship was rocking slightly, you could hear creaking boards and seagulls. The lace on the captain's right shirtsleeve had a smear of blue ink on it. He finished writing and put the cap back on the inkwell. "Get your equipment ready, doctor. The islanders have found my men and are bringing them aboard in exchange for their relatives. I'm giving them twenty-four lashes each and you'll need to treat their wounds. I need them fit for duty. We have a long journey ahead of us."

"I can't help but feel sympathy for them. Tahiti is a paradise on earth, I wouldn't mind staying myself."

"With the transit of Venus recorded, our mission is to continue to Terra Australis incognita. We have that Tupaia fellow to guide us and should leave as soon as possible."

"He's coming with us? That is good news."

"Excuse me, captain Cook." The door opened and a tall man in a small grey wig came in. Something was not quite right about him, was it the ears?

"Yes, mr Solander, what is it?"

"Are we leaving today, captain?"

"Yes. Yes we are, finally. Are you and Banks ready? Got all your plants pressed and all animals preserved? I must say I'm a bit disappointed that you and Green couldn't get your numbers on the transit of Venus to agree." The captain looked annoyed and angry.

"My apologies, captain. We did the best we could with the equipment available." Doctor Monkhouse looked up at Solander. Something was wrong. He was too tall and too dark, and the doctor was certain he shouldn't have pointy ears sticking out under the wig. I'm dreaming, aren't I? This is not I, is it? Was there a doctor Monkhouse? He looked down at his hands. Those were his hands, yes, but wearing gaudy rings and with unfamiliar scars.

The dream changed shape. The white frills around his neck grew into white-capped waves. The screams of the seagulls morphed to screams from the men that had been lashed. He could not see his own face in his small shaving mirror, just an empty collar. How am I going to be able to shave? I can't go around looking uncivilised. Then the mirror showed him a gorilla's face and he dropped it on the floor. It broke. Seven years of back luck... seven hundred years.

– *** –

"Doctor Monkhouse, hey! I need your help, doc." One of the sailors had come down to sickbay late at night, just as Monkhouse was ready to wrap up and go to sleep.

"What's the matter with you, sailor? If your gums are bleeding you can get lime juice from the cook."

"No, it's not that, it's... well, can you keep a secret?"

"Hmf. Doesn't sound good."

"Well, I'll have to tell you anyway. See, when we left Tahiti, I brought someone along. I've had her hidden in our cabin."

"What! How did you manage that? There are ten men in each cabin."

"Yeah, but they kept quiet if we shared. She was like my girlfriend back there, so she came along of her own free will."

"Did she agree to be hidden in a closed cabin for months and "shared" of her own free will?"

"I wouldn't know, I don't speak her gibberish. Anyway, I think she's pregnant."

"Damn it, man! This ship is no place for a pregnant woman! What were you thinking?"

"Well, I was thinking, since you're a doctor, you could fix that, like?"

"I'm not "fixing" anything. You are coming with me to see the captain. No wait, it's already midnight."

Doctor Monkhouse waited until the following morning before he called on the captain. That was a mistake. As soon as he got the news, Captain Cook and the navigator Tupaia followed the doctor down to the cabin where the sailors had kept this girlfriend/prisoner. The door was bolted from the inside but the sailor opened when he heard the captain.

"I tried to fix it myself, doc, but it didn't work like it should."

"What do you mean, you did... oh good lord." On the bunk lay a dark-haired young woman in a pool of blood. She had lost so much blood that the mattress and sheets were soaked full and it had started to spill out on the floor. As the men came in, she tried to raise her hand but she was too weak. The doctor stepped up and took her hand, but at that moment her life ran out. He saw it in her eyes as they were looking at him for help, and suddenly were looking at nothing.

"Murderer!"

"Now wait a minute doc, it's not murder when she's not human."

The dream changed again, the blood filled the cabin and the ship and they sunk to the bottom of the sea. The doctor was now a long-legged crab, determined to crawl away from anything human. With every step he took he got his foot caught in something and tore a leg off. Finally he had no more legs and had to settle for being a barnacle. He was stuck on a rock, fishing for food. He caught something big! It was Tupaia's dead body.

–***–

All names are from captain Cook's first voyage. Tahiti was called St George's Island by the english back then.