Day 46: Intercom, Evening

[damned_intercom]

The intercom jingle went off, mirroring the cheery voice that came out of the speakers soon after it.

"Hello, everyone, and I hope you found productive endeavors in both your music-making and your therapy sessions! Now, our nurses will be escorting all of you to your rooms and to your delicious dinners. Tonight, we're serving moist slices of

Comments

Re: M41

[hes_deadjim]

The food, despite McCoy's earlier reservations, smelled good. It smelled like home, Earth, and for a moment, he was sorely tempted to just dig in like Hayes. Maybe he would have if he wasn't short on time. Instead, he remained at the door, eyes roaming the room as he took stock of what he had. A closet, the gray uniforms, robes, and his own Starfleet uniform. That flashlight. He hadn't fully checked out the desk yet. Unless this facility had hidden a full set of scanners, dermal regenerators and a tricorder in there, or even a field medic kit, he doubted it would have something too useful in there.

The overall picture didn't look promising. McCoy had an examination coming up and he had nothing to work with. Maybe he could dig something up, but realistically, you just couldn't make a hypo or tricorder out of rags. And scowling at the room wasn't going to produce either on its own. He'd have to make do, cross that road when he got it.

He had to take inventory, see what he had, see what he would need from the locations TK-622 hard marked. He'd have to start a personal log and a medical log.

He'd eat later. McCoy moved with the determination of man on a mission. He quickly changed into the science blues.

There was something sitting on the desk that he hadn't given a second glance to earlier. Now that he was trying to take inventory, he had to. The gadget looked old, even to him, gray with speakers on it and dials and knobs. What had Sulu called it, a radio? Insisted they used to use these things to play music.

Unless he wanted to put Jim to sleep, he didn't see an immediate use for it. Maybe it could be taken apart, made into something else. He'd have to bring the matter up to Mr. Spock.

McCoy had opened the desk and was shifting through it when the Commander spoke up. "In way," he said absently. He set the bundle of pens on the desk. Next were the cylindrical items, with the raised nub at the end of each. "Not the same captain from where I come, but it's Jim."

He came up with a metal ring with several keys on them. These too went on the desk.

Hayes' presence was another thing he had to accomodate. He wasn't used to sharing a room with another, much less a sickbay that wasn't his. While he could order patients into his sickbay, and without checking with another's permission, he didn't exactly have that option here. This room was just as much the Commander's as it was his. It was only fair to give him warning.

"I have an examination for him scheduled tonight. It'll be in this room. But I can do it elsewhere if it's a problem," McCoy added.

Re: M41

[cmdr_exposition]

Hayes wasn't planning on spending enough time in their cell to be disturbed by anything the doctor might be planning, so there should be no problem, but that wasn't the thing that most caught his attention about McCoy's response. He frowned. "If it's not the same captain, how is it him?"

It wasn't that he couldn't picture a scenario that might be described that way, he just couldn't decide on one. Especially since the man had apparently gone back to normal today.

"It won't be a problem, though," he added as an afterthought. "I'll probably have left by then."

Re: M41

[hes_deadjim]

That certainly made things easier.

"The captain I know is few years older than the man you saw. Different eye color too," McCoy said as he sat down at the desk. He flipped open the notebook. "Other universes are possible, as you've proven just by being here. From what I've seen, Jim isn't from the Enterprise I know, but it's still Jim. Don't ask me to explain it. I'm a doctor, not a physicist."

Spock could easily talk his ear off about the theories and calculations about different realities and the possibility of traveling to them, by will and by freak accident. He was welcome to it. McCoy was happy not to think about it more than he had to.

He pressed the pen to paper. He wasn't used to seeing physical ink just flowing out, but it was gratifying all the same. There was something satisfying about seeing direct, tangible results.

'Chief Medical Officer's personal log....'

[cmdr_exposition]

That made sense, at least as much as anything did anymore, and Hayes nodded and "hmm"ed his understanding. There didn't seem much else to say, so for a while he just munched his artichoke (wonder of wonders, the thing actually tasted grown) while staring at the page and failing to think of anything else he wanted to write down.

The little he knew about Tanaka was already there, and the pen tapped impatiently by it. Thankful though he was for the Shofixti's straightforward approach to the issue, it was still a little unnerving to be known by someone he'd never heard of. Probably not the same kind of unnerving as a friend who was the same-but-not, but...

"I found some more people from mine today, actually," he said finally. "No one I knew, but apparently one of them knows me."

[hes_deadjim]

McCoy thought of Mr. Chekov's mention of Nero. He didn't know the exact story or what the man had meant by an attack on Vulcan. It could mean anything. He hadn't said what happened to the Romulan either.

"Normally I'd say that was good news," the doctor answered. "Friendly, I hope?"

With any luck, they were. It could be a grounding factor for Mr. Hayes, provide some familiarity. He seemed level-headed enough. But uncertain circumstances and unfamiliar territory had a way of changing things. Even the most calm mind could flip. He'd seen it before in his line of work. At the same time McCoy hoped he didn't get too relaxed. If they were all wrongfully detained here, the last healthy thing to do was start accepting it as normal and getting a mite too comfortable.

McCoy continued writing. He had a good deal just to write for the personal log, most of it catch up. The last one he'd written had been the medical report on Clark's current condition. He had to record what had happened to him up 'till now. Then he had to prepare the medical log for the previous night and prepare for the one needed for tonight.

Chief Medical Officer's personal log. Stardate: 2267

-Performed bone reconstruction on Yeoman Clark's left hand until mid second shift. Extent of injuries listed in previous medical log (2267-Clark-K1), cause unknown.
-Received orders from Captain Kirk to transport to Kaleiyan surface to receive formal apologies from the Kaleiyan Empress personally. Supposedly that thing that injured Clark was her son.
Doctor M'Benga to take over surgery in the meantime.

I reported to the transporter room on schedule, where Mr. Scott made comment about the ion storm. I'm sure he'd have given me the exact storm grade, make up and and just what every little effect it was having on the Enterprise if I'd let him. Shortly after, it appeared there was a malfunction with the transporter circuits or the board itself. I'm not an engineer. I appeared in what looked like a small, white patient room: certainly not what the files described as the type of architecture for a Kaleiyan. I immediately performed a preliminary check on myself, found nothing immediately wrong with me physically.

The damn thing will be the death of me.

[cmdr_exposition]

That was a more complicated question than McCoy had probably been intending to ask, and Hayes paused a moment before answering.

"As far as I can tell," he said eventually. "The one I apparently meet in the future is apparently from an allied race I had been told was extinct, and it's a lot to take in. The other one was an enemy admiral back during the War, but-" he sighed, a little frustrated, and now talking more to have his thoughts expressed than because he thought McCoy wanted to know or was probably even still listening- "either he's sorry about that or he's just being sensible about who the real enemy is here. He's being polite, at least, which I think is a first for VUX..."

[hes_deadjim]

McCoy looked up from the log. He'd half listened, mostly because it seemed like Hayes just needed to get this out more for his benefit. He didn't see any need to stop him. McCoy could understand that need, especially here. But this talk of an allied race gone extinct, a War? Hayes was from a place different enough from his own, with a conquered Earth, that McCoy couldn't quite relate to.

The 'Vux' bit caught his attention. Hadn't Jim mentioned having one as a roommate?

"Jim mentioned something about a 'Vux' as a roommate. Said he was experimented on last night," McCoy spoke up.

[cmdr_exposition]

Well, that was an interesting circumstance, and Hayes' face reflected his mild surprise. They made quite a neatly packaged little group, if it was the same VUX. "That didn't come up, but I could believe it. He had some nasty-looking marks. Did he mention his name?"

It probably didn't mean anything, but he wanted to know anyway. Maybe it was like staring at the sky- the comforting sense of control that knowledge gave, even when that sense was false.