"Kirk to McCoy."
"Mmm."
"Captain Kirk to CMO McCoy."
"Guh."
"Bones!"
McCoy rolled off of his bed and flicked the intercom switch.
"Yeah."
"Wow Bones, you must be tired."
"You take a blow to the head and try to be all bright-eyed and bushy tailed in the morning."
"Um. I did Bones."
"Right. Forgot. What'dya want?"
"Away mission debriefing? We're just waiting for our Chief Medical Officer."
"Conference room. Right. Give me five."
He flicked off the comm unit, gave the bed one last longing look, and headed for the sonic shower. I should have made it fifteen.
Fresh uniform, data PADDs in hand, he made it way up to the conference room, passing by several amused faces in gold and red along the way.
"-Abject failure."
McCoy blinked up at Scotty's strange declaration.
"What was an abject failure?"
"I believe he was suggesting our away mission, Doctor," Spock declared in his usual, bland way. "We failed to find Cygnus' home planet. We lost Ensign Parson. We have contaminated a society on the edge of their bronze age. Ensign Kelly was killed while failing to protect you from abduction. Ensigns Chekov, Smith, and Blythe were injured in the ensuing conflict, which you slept through, in the process of retrieving the injured adolescents from their captors, and several natives from both sides of the conflict were injured or killed. Now, this civilization believes in demons, deities, magic, and we provided conclusive proof. For example, your insistence on curing every child, not only of the injuries sustained while captivity, but also clearing their lungs of pneumonia and supplying them with antibiotics to insure that there will be no recurrence in the foreseeable future. The Prime Directive has been ignored, thanks to the use of communicators, phasers, medical equipment, and transporters within their sight. First contact could hardly have gone any worse, Doctor McCoy."
"Hmph. Well, on my end, Parson will be up and ready for duty in a couple days. Chekov in two weeks, if that fever picks up the way it looks like its going to. Smith should have the night off, but he's basically mended. And Blythe is on bed rest until after his next corrective surgery, then light duty 'til I give the all clear.
"While the first contact might not have gone over well, I've got some interesting readings on those centaurs down there and more than a few doctor's volunteering to get their hands on those bog monsters. I'll forward the results on to the Interstellar Sciences Academy. I've got some data that will keep a few of my colleagues busy for years to come.
"If I don't miss my guess, someone's going to be setting up covert observatories to watch how they develop."
"Lieutenant Uhura reported last night that she's made significant progress on communication with Cygnus."
"Yes, she has, Jim. The UT still has gaps here and there, but she's done a fine job."
"Excellent! Well, Mr. Spock, it seems that a joint effort between Uhura and our good Doctor has nullified your search pattern. Do you think you can get some starcharts ready? Maybe a quick look and we'll be right on course."
McCoy smiled a bit. "I was thinking the exact same thing."
"I will prepare the charts. It may take a couple hours to map the nearby systems accurately, since we have not explored this region of space yet."
"Perfect. Now that we can talk like civilized people, I think it's time I introduce myself."
"Jim-"
"It has been two weeks, after all. And you've usurped my entire ship to take care of the man, Bones. I should have some say in it."
"Jim, I'm not sure," McCoy started, then stopped himself at the sight of his captain's wide grin. "Cygnus isn't recovered. You're welcome to speak to my patient, but with the extensive amount of damage, you can't place any undue stress on him. Do you hear me, Captain?"
"Yes, yes. I'll be my usual diplomatic self. Scotty, ship reports please."
They continued around the table. Each taking their own turn, until all that needed to be said, on the record that is, had been said.
To be honest, all McCoy remembered was being woken up from a lovely dream about this Orion dancing girl from a... educational vid... by shouts and blood as the injured were dragged into Father Cannaceae's hut. Without thinking, he'd snatched the comm from one of the downed security personnel and ordered emergency medical equipment and staff to be transported down immediately.
Hearing the other side of the story was an entirely different experience. Jim diving down into the cave before everyone got to his side, the mad search for the underwater entrance. How the bog-creatures downed a few crew before someone realized that the stun setting was just as effective on them as the centaurs: read, not. The lengthy hand-to-hand combat. The bright children, weak as they were from malnutrition and pneumonia, realizing their captors were occupied, freeing those that couldn't get up on their own. The boy McCoy found even dragging an injured lieutenant from the fray.
The battle above ground, he'd seen for himself. At least the tail end. Glad he hadn't been there to witness the living, writhing masses as they pulled out of the seawater. The pale, nauseated faces of his coworkers more than enough for him. The huge, muscled bodies of the warriors loosening arrows, seemingly without effect. Stone axes only shaving off a few flailing tendrils at a go. Father Cannaceae's sweat-gleaming hulk thundering to his aid just as one of those scythes swung for McCoy's head. Those impressive tusks buried, coated, in still-moving gore.
He shivered as Jim described that bit, since he'd shot that creature moments too late to save the doctor. If Fanna hadn't been so open, hadn't convinced her father they were good demons, he might very well be on the cold slab with Kelly.
McCoy well knew the flack awaiting for him, once the official reports finally made it back home, the Board had time to chew it over, spit out a response, and for it to get back. He'd be lucky if they just tossed a bucket of sanctions on his record. But, his conscious stood clear. Even if they took his post away from him, he got Fanna and her friends free, and healed them of the physical wounds that their captors imposed on them. The mental distress... that's a different matter, of course.
But, thanks to a little impromptu cave in, a direct result of Spock's genius and a well-aimed phaser blast from the Enterprise herself, it'd be a long time before the subterranean dwellers of the newly classified Zeta Eta Theta One-Niner found their way into Fanna's village again. If ever. And now that everyone knows about them, well. He's a doctor, not a war strategist, but McCoy guessed Father Cannaceae had a good mind for that kind of forethought.
"Think I'm missing out on somethin'," McCoy interrupted, when folks seemed interested on getting onto ships reports. "How the hell did Pavel get a spear in the side?"
"Arrow."
"Whatever. You get a nearly four-foot long length of wood, tipped in stone, in your side – right near where your misshapen green-blooded heart'd be if you had one – and then you'd have the right to quibble over what to call it."
Spock flicked through a few digital files, easily ignoring the usual barbs. "It seems someone pulled him out of the pit at some point during the confrontation. We will have to ask him directly when he awakens, but one of the natives was spouting some nonsense about the bravery of the day demons and standing guard over him. One might surmise he was of assistance."
McCoy grunted. Not very specific, but it'd have to do until the ensign woke up and reported in.
After a couple hours of the usual hoop-jumping, the meeting finally came to a close. McCoy stood up with a groan of stiffness. Should have gotten some coffee before coming in. And a dose of anti-inflammatory.
"Well, Bones, let's head out."
"Jim?"
"To sickbay? To meet Cygnus?"
"Now?"
"Well if you need to reschedule me-"
"No, no I don't."
"I believe Doctor McCoy is exhibiting symptoms of a hangover," Spock said as he tapped his record tapes into a neat pile.
"I am not. Come on. Sooner I can get this done, sooner I can get real work done."
Spock's eyebrow went up at that, but he didn't say anything.
"Uhura? Would you join us? Just in case Cygnus comes up with something the UT doesn't have a word for again?"
"Of course, Leonard. Let me drop off these records and I'll meet you boys in sickbay."
"Ready, Leonard?"
"Hypospray." McCoy replied in a sing-song voice. "And your meal card. Piss me off, and you'll be on-"
"Yeah, yeah, emergency rations. Or worse. Like salads."
He sighed pinched his nose between two fingers.
"No, wait, I need to change Cygnus' wraps. They hadn't been done while we were gone."
"Can't wait until after?"
"You know, fine. That'll keep you guys at a shorter timeline anyway. Come on."
McCoy pounded down to the sickbay, his headache getting worse with every step.
"Clean up and and get scrubs on," McCoy ordered before doing the same.
"You are early."
Inside the sanitary tented area, Cygnus had been propped into a good forty-five degree angle, the PADD lit up on his stomach. McCoy could just make out a paused video game, one of the ones Uhura snagged from Chekov when she'd first programmed it. Something about forming long chains of patterned colors.
"Early?" He asked.
"Yes. Unless you intend to return to the four-hour rotations."
"Oh, no. Not unless it's needed. Regular duties called, for once. My captain would like a word with you."
"I wondered when your superior officer would come."
"Do you feel up to speaking with him? The egg stealer is getting scrubbed up as well."
"And Uhura?"
McCoy smiled. "She's coming. I figured I'd invite for her, in case we needed her assistance with the translator."
Cygnus' eyes closed a long moment. "I am prepared. You may invite them in."
"Do you mind if I do my regular morning scans while they speak with you? And maybe the morning egg rotation, if discussions last that long? I will make sure they can not see your scans."
"No, please. I welcome the distraction from the routine."
"Hear that, Captain?"
"Yes, I did. Give me a minute. Ms. Chapel is just helping me with my respirator."
It took a few minutes more for both men to enter. In the distance, he could hear Uhura chatting with Chapel herself.
"Cygnus, this is Captain James Tiberius Kirk. Jim, this is Cygnus. You already know Mr. Spock."
"Egg Stealer," Cygnus greeted, with a nod of his head. Spock nodded a greeting in return.
"'Egg Stealer?'" Jim asked.
"Don't worry about it," McCoy deferred. "Remember what I said about tiring my patient out. I'm going to keep the tricorder going the whole time. And one eye on the biobed readouts too. If I see one hint of stress, I'm kicking you out."
"Touché, touché. It is ah... good to meet you, Cygnus. I've heard a lot of good things."
McCoy picked up his tricorder and started his regular morning scans.
Jim acted the epitome of experience and professionalism. Only a close friend, a good doctor, or both, would notice how his skin paled around the eyes. Or the constant swallowing. Or how his eyes never seemed to meet those of his conversational partner. His gaze flicked here and there, not able to settle on any part of his patient without finding something else bare. Uncomfortable. Horrific.
McCoy wished he'd thought to suggest that Spock act as intermediary. At least Vulcan control over emotionalism would mask any visceral reaction he might have.
The subtle cues McCoy had begun to look for in his patient screamed just as loudly.
"Good things?" Cygnus repeated, his fingers gripping on a bit of unrolled gauze, his attention on the incubator.
"Well, McCoy has been giving his regular reports and-"
"And I haven't broken your privacy," McCoy piped in. "But Jim has been curious how you were doing. I have given basic reports on your wellbeing, and passing along basic information about your species that I've been able to figure out. Mostly so that Mr. Spock would have a better idea of what to look for on deep space scans."
"Oh." He sagged in on himself.
"Yes, of course. Bones is the best doctor I know of. You couldn't ask for better."
"Bones? This is a strange name for him. Is it like how he insults the egg stealer constantly?"
Jim grinned. "Something like that. On note of the egg stealer, we were just talking about taking some images from our latest deep space scans to update our starcharts, and perhaps bring them to you?"
Cygnus nodded. "Leonard suggested this as well. I will try, but looking out into space was never my duty. I am not sure I would recognize my star system from any other in this region of space."
McCoy blinked over at his patient, surprised.
"What do you mean, it wasn't your duty?"
"I told you, Leonard. I was an engineer. My task was to repair and maintain the ship. I can repair our imagers, that's easy enough, but other than calibrations, I haven't looked through them."
"Fascinating. Are you implying that your tasks were so specialized you had no interest in any other field?"
"I might be curious," his voice went quiet. "But duty comes first."
Uhura pushed into the tented area, her own PADD tucked under one arm.
"Sorry for the wait, boys." She took her place on the stool at Cygnus' shoulder. She plucked up his PADD, saving and closing the paused game without a second thought. "Have you continued reading the files I supplied, Cyg? I know I handed you quite a bit."
"I've gotten through some of it," he replied as she scanned whatever results her programming gave her. "And highlighted the parts that failed to translate, as you suggested."
"Good. We can take a look at them once the others have finished their questions. Alright, Captain, how can I help?"
Jim smiled down at her. "I guess you and McCoy are referees right now."
"What does that word mean?" Cygnus asked.
"It means I make sure to pause the conversation, if or when its needed, to make sure we're all on the same page. I'm guessing McCoy is doing the same, but to make sure we don't tire you out too much."
"Ah, then proceed Captain James Tiberius Kirk."
"Captain Kirk will do just fine, thank you Cygnus. So, I guess, let's start at the beginning. What brings you to this part of space? What happened to your ship? How many crew were aboard her? How long was your mission? Was it exploratory, or did you have a set destination? Was... your wife on the ship? Why did you bring them with you anyway?" The questions flowed from Jim's mouth, ending with a careless gesture towards the incubator; they'd been building up in the young captain's mind.
Cygnus passed a significant look over at his doctor.
"Jim will understand if there are a couple things you can't answer because you need to keep certain classified things classified. We also have to obfuscate on occasion, when the situation merits."
Cygnus thought for a moment. "Perhaps then, I should do as you suggest, and start at the beginning. I am only used to giving my regular reports to my superiors, sir, so you'll forgive me if I am... rusty at story telling. Leonard? Could I have a glass of water, or two, before I begin? I am not used to speaking this much."
"Of course."
McCoy called past the curtains for the water. He propped his patient up long enough for Cygnus to lap up the liquid. This time he didn't have to remind the man to keep it slow. When the second glass appeared, his patient waved it off. McCoy set it on the side table, expecting to need it later.