With a sluggish unveiling of drowsy irises, the young officer begins to awaken. Fifteen minutes have passed since his placement within a lone cell of the ship's brig, almost twenty minutes since his capture. The chemical which was utilised by the Chief Medical Officer indeed bears some lasting effects upon the ensign, having already rendered him unconscious so quickly after its administration, and resulting in his current state of clouded vision and a dulled head. This substance had clearly been selected carefully by the trained medico for a specific purpose, and that purpose had been fulfilled.
As his eyes eventually correct themselves, his head follows his gaze whilst it moves about the surrounding space. His containment is of decent size – quite spacious for a single detainee – and brimmed with bright ambience; almost too much for his adjusting eyes.
After taking the few short minutes to process the young man, the Captain and his colleagues had opted to await the detainee's awakening. During this time, the captors had acquired PADDs so that they could each file a report on the situation, a task required for any such happening. Due to the rather serious nature of this incident – nay, attack – this is one of many regulations that the Captain will wholly abide by.
Indeed, while it is known that he wilfully disregards some of the Federation's rules and orders of his superiors – in order to minimize the risk to a single crew member's safety in some cases, to neutralise threats in others, or to simply 'play by his own rules' – this is an exception. The life of his First Officer has been jeopardized due to the bigotry of one man, and the Captain will see to it that no other crew members will suffer the same. Such horrid prejudices have no place aboard his ship.
Moreover, the two crewmates presently accompanying him – and with them the rest of the crew, to be sure – possess a strikingly similar mindset, in a parallel of his own. The alliance for which they all work is meant as a harmonious one, a welcoming for multitudes of species and creeds; 'strength in unity', so goes the idiom. These people – the personnel aboard this vessel – are much more than mere co-workers; this is a family, in a way. And, such a family would in turn become rather protective of its members. This fact is particularly true for the vessel's First Officer, a lone Vulcan serving amongst a predominantly human crew. An individual who had already lost so much and suffered such great heartache, that for him to endure more would be cruel, unacceptable. It may just break him. Suffice it to say, none of this new family deserve such pain, least of all the Vulcan, hence the need to protect him – and each other.
The Captain soon turns to gaze at his two companions, the face of each officer marked by the early signs of fatigue. Their sleep schedule – and the initiation thereof – is much overdue, and their bodies in turn do well to show it. So much already had they done for him – with him – with nary a rest or reward, sans the sleep they may soon receive, and of course the justice for their comrade. And yet, a reward is not what they seek, no salutation, no 'pat on the back'; none of that is what they're after, none dwell within their mind's recesses. For all that they wish to achieve – the Captain included – is for the assailant to pay for his crimes, and for their crewmate to return to them...alive.
This latter statement may not be guaranteed, with the Medbay's recent chaos, and – unbeknownst to the trio – what may soon transpire. Of course, they could even be mildly aware of this, yet dwell on such possibilities they dare not.
Of their hope, one final thread remains, and to it the trio cling thusly.
The weariness within their eyes and minds and bodies very much taken into consideration, the Captain quietly offers his comrades a proposal. In a low tone, he extends to them an invitation to the rest they so greatly need, the sleep that their bodies now crave. This instruction is not only offered as a commandant to his subordinates, but as an officer to his fellow crewmates...and moreover, as one friend to another.
"You look pretty beat...", Kirk's eyes shift to both crewmates as he speaks, "...why don't you get some rest. It's been a long day."
"What about you, Sir?", the helmsman makes his reply out of concern for his captain, a sentiment echoed by the face of the Communications Officer.
At the commandant's nil-response – with his gaze momentarily shifting to the detainee – the Lieutenant quietly brings him out of whatever thoughts may have occupied him. Housed within his cell, the assailant observes his captors as Uhura speaks.
"Captain?"
"I'll be...turning in soon." He cannot help but admire the concern his crewmates have for him, a trait shared by the vessel's remaining personnel, and one that he had become accustomed to. "Thank you...both of you...for everything. You've done great work today; try to get some sleep, alright?"
Indeed, the officers' regard for his wellbeing is mirrored by the Captain himself, and his tone reflects that very sentiment. It is a more gentle tone, yet not overbearingly soft; brimmed with sympathetic undertones, warm and caring. Almost as if he were addressing close family, siblings even; perhaps that is how he perceives his crewmates, particularly after such a trying day.
"Thank you, Sir.", comes the helmsman's reply. With a brotherly pat of the arm from his superior, Sulu soon departs to make the journey to his living quarters.
The very moment the Communications Officer begins to follow suit, she is halted by a gentle pull at her arm.
"I know you're worried about him...", the Captain begins quietly, "...they're doing everything they can. Right now, the only thing we have going for us is our hope and faith in the Medical staff. He's going to be okay, somehow, deep down, I just know. Take care of yourself, okay?"
While Kirk's speech may not be much in such a brief moment, with no shallow promises contained therein, the words moisten the Lieutenant's eyes all the same.
With a glaze in her eyes and a fog in her mind, she gives her commandant – her friend – a nod in solidarity. In spite of her concern for the Vulcan, she too knows that somehow, he will be saved. Within her heart, she knows. Unbeknownst to her, however, that may soon change and hope might just cling to the weakest of threads.
The brief discourse over, she departs from her captain, to return at last to her living quarters. In her weary haze, the ship's ambience currently seems a tad too overbearing, with walls and floors too bright and gleaming as she traverses the winding corridor. Despite her mildly sluggish pace, she manages to gain on the helmsman, who had only departed a few short moments prior. With fatigue taking him as well, his pace is a near match for her own. As that space between them shortens – and almost as if he can sense her proximity – he soon halts and begins to swivel to face her.
"You okay?", there is a brief pause in his journey as he speaks, an interlude which ends upon her arrival at his side; and so, Sulu moves again, to traverse the corridor with her.
Possibly due to fatigue or tattered emotions – or a mingling of both – there is a delay in the Lieutenant's reply. It almost seems to be a kind of hesitation from her, as if she were in the midst of a search for words. Communication and correct phrasing are part of the daily tasks Uhura performs, yet all of that seems to escape her in these brief moments. Perhaps, for the shortest of timeframes, her keen mind may not be as sharp as it would normally be. Or, after the completion of her latest task, her mind requires a short reprieve, to shut off for a fraction of time...to rest. Much like the majority of personnel aboard this vessel, she is only human, and her mind – astute as it is – needs to break away from duty. With plentiful somnolence, it will of course reboot and return to it's regular astuteness.
"I'm just...tired." Her responding tone is marked by fatigue, yes, much like her crewmate's initiating query; but, also wandering thoughts.
In a single flash, her mind's eye conjures images, both in a recall of recent events, and what may lie ahead. It is jarring, indeed, in spite of her weariness and the hope she clings to, and her eyes are momentarily veiled by the hasty closing of lids in some attempt to quell such thoughts. Almost as if he can discern her mind's brief wanderings, the helmsman brings forth a notion to her.
"We can stop by the Medbay if you want to see him."
Uhura's entire form nearly halts in its tracks. That is not to say that the notion hadn't wandered her own mind. Yes, she would wish to pay a final visit before she retires for the night; yet, by the same token, she would not want to become an obstacle for the medicos. After all, is it not they who are tending to him? For them to have the space and peace to do their duty is vital. Although, perhaps her crewmate's notion is only for a view from afar, away from staff.
Yes, Sulu's tone suggests that is what he offers, a quick glance to ease her mind. A peek through a window, so to speak. For all they know, the pair might witness a split second of the Vulcan in the midst of surgery, his inert form laid peacefully on the biobed. No pain, no more strain upon his heart – at least, for this present time. The regular motions of his unclad chest whilst he breathes, with physicians hunched over his open torso as they once again repair his heart.
And what of the Benjisidrine? That very drug needed to stave off the complete failure of this vital organ? It still has a ways to go until it becomes fully synthesized, so what will the medicos do in the meantime? With all of their knowledge and training in their field, they will find a means to do what needs to be done. To save him. An alternate method, a 'temporary fix', perhaps. No matter happens, they will find a way. These people are some of the best in Starfleet, and they will not easily give in to defeat.
"I...thank you." There is, in her voice, a tone of gratitude, marked also by a meagre curl in her mouth.
"We'll have a quick look, okay?"
His words confirm what she had suspected. They will pay the ward a fleeting visit, then depart as if they had not come at all. With a gentle touch at her arm and a weary smile in reassurance, the two friends continue onward.
Nothing, however, may ever prepare them for what they will soon witness.
