Nightshift 45: Recreational Field

[doneinthree]

[From here]The air outside tasted so good that Bill didn't even bother to worry about how improbably realistic it was that he could be hallucinating fresh air too. He supposed if his genius IQ had to be good for something, it was for conjuring overly complex delusions. How else would he have come up with that whole bit about old future Spock

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[dual_worlds]

((From here.))

Spock could see his breath in front of him as he stepped out into the cold air. It was uncomfortable, particularly for one possessing a Vulcan's physiology, but at least his uniform had long sleeves. At any rate, he didn't allow such matters to distract him as he quickly scanned the area. There didn't appear to be any "zombies" roaming the field, but that was the only ideal condition he could see. A couple of patients had apparently encountered some of the institute's beasts. While Spock privately acknowledged the conflict, his gaze was drawn toward a man who had just been knocked onto ground by another creature.

A quick sweep from his flashlight briefly illuminated the Captain.

Spock's eyebrows faintly furrowed at the realization, but he didn't hesitate in giving his orders. "Doctor, you and your companion will remain by the door while Mr. Chekov and myself attempt to retrieve the Captain. Only involve yourselves if we call for aid." The calm, yet authoritative tone in which he spoke suggested that the plan was not up for discussion.

He turned to his navigator. "Mr. Chekov, you will bring Captain Kirk back inside as quickly as possible. Do not engage any creatures unless absolutely necessary. I will distract the one attacking the Captain until you are safely off of the field."

[sewenteen_sir]

Chekov had a few seconds to figure out what was happening. First, he saw someone running away from--what in Siberia was that?

He'd never seen anything like it. And from the way it moved and what he saw of it, he would have been willing to wager that he'd never see anything like it again. Snake-like body, wings, and what looked to be metal talons shredding something the person had thrown at it. Commander Spock's flashlight revealed it to be Captain Kirk.

Looking immediately for orders, Chekov received them from Commander Spock before he could even ask. While he didn't like the odds Commander Spock may or may not have with the talon-snake-being, he wasn't in a position to argue. Unless the doctor and the unknown prisoner had combat experience, Commander Spock was their best bet.

"Aye, sir!" Chekov replied on the tail of Commander Spock's order. He took a moment to ready himself, and he sped off into the darkness towards the crawling shadow that was (supposedly) Captain Kirk.

[ To here!]

[hes_deadjim]

Admitting to anyone out loud that he did consider the cold-blooded Vulcan a close friend wasn't something he was willing to do any time soon, much less to himself in his own delirium. Call it being obstinate, but there were some things better left unsaid. He was going to stick by it. He was also not going to wonder why his mind was bringing it up.

"More like fellow crew," McCoy settled on the more neutral option. It felt weird talking to figments his brain was conjuring up, as if they were actually right there. It was remarkably real. This whole thing was damned detailed, and he was even thinking up the cold air on his forearms. Remarkable.

Spock saved him from answering on that front right then by issuing orders. Even his mind was able to replicate that same commanding voice that he'd heard before. Instinct made him straighten up and obey, remaining where he was while he and Chekov took off into the darkness.

McCoy flicked the flashlight being over towards where they were running towards and nearly dropped it in the process: the beam lit upon something that could only come out of nightmares. It was large, and it was going after Jim!

"What the--" He started forwards despite himself. He forced himself to stop after the first few steps. If it weren't for Spock's orders....

[cmdr_exposition]

Hayes had seen some very strange-looking aliens before. The unpleasantly lumpy Umgah had taken the prize up till now, but this patchwork thing had just stolen it away. And, somehow, he couldn't picture it sharing a joke and a nothing-personal with its prey.

He wanted to help. He also wanted to protest being ordered around by a stranger without even being addressed save through McCoy, but that could wait until after the current crisis was over. Obviously, the one who seemed to be in charge at least thought he had the situation under control.

Most of all, though, he wanted to be able to stop staring at that sky. If it had been terrifying to see it red and pulsing, it somehow managed to be even more terrifying now when it was just as it should be. If I were going to imagine anything, it would be that--

--no. Stop. That was a completely useless line of conjecture, and if this was happening he really needed not to be useless. He tightened his grip convulsively on his own light, and tried to swallow his frustration.

[doneinthree]

[From here]

"So," Bill was saying cheerfully as the two of them ambled out of harm's way, mostly relying on Victor to direct them in the right direction, "who's this 'medical officer' you mentioned?" Having a doctor around would the first thing about tonight that made sense. Aside from the blood currently running down his arm and staining both their shirts, it would be relief just to see an authority figure step in. Maybe they could also give him pills or a shot or whatever to stop this insane delusion. God, that would be wonderful.

He turned his gaze ahead, searching hopefully for white coats and the glint of needles. What he saw instead was a suspiciously familiar shade of blue that had no place here, and - as they drew closer - a face which had even less. Bill lost his smile. It had been one thing to confuse Aidan for Spock, or even confuse Aidan for Spock for a cavalry in science blues, but this was on a whole other level of crazy. Crazy which didn't even have the decency to look less like DeForest Kelley the closer they got. And... who the hell was this other guy with him? Scotty?

"Oh no," Bill moaned, and grabbed Victor by the front of his shirt, as much to demand the young man's attention as it was to slow them down. "Tell me that's not Doctor McCoy. Tell me I'm not about to completely lose it again!"

[sewenteen_sir]

Chekov hustled Captain Kirk away from the battle with all the speed he could muster, per Commander Spock's order. They seemed to clear the battle quite easily, even though Chekov was still worried about the Commander. He wasn't running yet.

His attention, however, was drawn away from Commander Spock and directly to Captain Kirk's face when he was hauled up by his shirt front. From what he could glean, it seemed as though the captain were asking him if the medical officer was Doctor McCoy. Nervously, Chekov took a jittery look at the other man, then back at Captain Kirk.

"No si--... Bill. Doctor McCoy is much younger zan zis man," Chekov said soothingly, as though this would help the situation. He realized after he'd said it that it probably wouldn't help at all, considering he was still telling 'Bill' the truth. Perhaps he should have made up some false name for the medical officer.

"He's... someone completely different, I assure you. We should get inside."

[hes_deadjim]

McCoy didn't wait any longer. Despite his earlier conviction (and he did still remain convinced this was some trauma induced hallucination, all of it), instinct drove him forward. He closed the last several feet between them.

It was the captain all right. Younger, just like Spock and Mr. Chekov. But he'd recognize Jim anywhere. McCoy was getting the sneaking suspicion that maybe his unconscious was projecting the trace insecurity all humans got as they aged. It'd account for seeing them as so much younger. Maybe.

He'd never really considered himself as old either, but he wasn't sixteen and jumping horses over just about any fence he could find. Clearly his mind had other ideas.

The doctor took Jim's open side, hooking an arm under his shoulder. He took one last look at that nightmarish creature out on the field.

"Get him inside," McCoy directed. "I can't treat out here."

((Continuing this post over here))