Night 46: M41-50 Hallway
[from here]
622 headed down to the last door in the cell block corridor, keeping alert for anything that might already have set itself up in the hall. There usually weren't any ambushes this early in the night, but better safe than dead.
He knocked on the door to M41, waiting slightly back from the door for the Commander to open it.
622 headed down to the last door in the cell block corridor, keeping alert for anything that might already have set itself up in the hall. There usually weren't any ambushes this early in the night, but better safe than dead.
He knocked on the door to M41, waiting slightly back from the door for the Commander to open it.
He couldn't say much about the end result. He wasn't a writer by nature but even he could tell that they were getting more disjointed as they went on. The newer entries got noticeable shorter. Clipped in parts. Not exactly the best he'd ever written, and it wasn't going to be a candidate for exemplary record keeping, but he didn't have time to rewrite it. He was finding it hard to concentrate and it showed. It could be a number of things. Maybe it was because his mind drifted constantly back to the issue of medical supplies, Jim's appointment, Yeoman Clark's surgery that he'd left unfinished, his Enterprise and his captain. As far as he knew, he was alone out here. Even now he couldn't stop wondering where they were, even as he hastily finished the last line of the most recent log. What was going on back there? And how the devil was he supposed to get back? Somehow he got the feeling that asking nicely just wasn't going to do much good ( ... )
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One of the men conversing in the hallway turned out to be Hayes from last night. Kirk considered throwing a greeting his way before the sight of the firearm exchanging hands drew him up short. By now, one would think that nothing would surprise him about their nonsensical prison. His mother had kept an antique shotgun back home, but he hadn't seen anything like that since the heaters in "A Piece Of The Action."
Kirk winced. Where the hell had that thought...? Actually, he decided he didn't care. There were more important things he had to worry about right now, like surviving his doctor's ungentle care, and when he got that done, the rest of the night.
Sparing only an awkward nod for three well-armed men as he passed, Kirk soon found himself standing outside M41. Finally. He rapped on the door with two knuckles, and called out: "Bones."
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"Take a seat, Jim," McCoy said. He gestured absently towards his half of the room. "Shirt off."
Even as he said that, he surveyed what he had available laid out on the desk. A notebook. A bunch of ink pens. The heavy flashlight. A ring for keys. A primitive radio. The doctor glowered down at them. He could just imagine Jim's, his captain's, reaction. ("I thought you'd always wanted to get down to basics, Bones. Well, there you have it!"). McCoy rolled his eyes. He picked up the notebook and flipped it open ( ... )
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Part of him still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of being captain of the Enterprise. Future Spock had attempted to drill it into his head with his destiny talk, and Kirk couldn't deny the absolute rightness of the moment when he'd stood on that gleaming bridge and called himself "Captain." If he closed his eyes, he could summon unreal images of a man who looked uncannily like himself, mid-thirties, in command gold. He wondered what that James T. Kirk was thinking. For that matter, he wondered what was going through ( ... )
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"You'll recover," he assured him dryly.
If this man was anything like the captain he knew, he was extremely grounded, possessed a healthy sense of humor, an empathy to his crew and good self esteem. A little knock every now and then to his ego from a friend wasn't going to rattle him. In fact, a little rattle every now and then was perfectly healthy. Bemused, McCoy just shook his head. He continued writing further observations in the medical log, mostly superficial ones: Kirk's current physical appearance, notes on the dressing on torso, current mood and mental state. He certainly seemed improved. He appeared sure of himself, his identity, had the clarity of mind to trade a few cracks, and seemed well enough to recognize him.
And yet when it came down to answer that simple question, Kirk hesitated. It was a tiny pause but enough to catch the doctor's attention. And despite full well knowing better, McCoy looked up. Jim was trying to produce an air of complete ( ... )
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"Knowing Spock, he'd want to examine it instead. I think he'd dissect it first and check for any bacterias or compounds native to wherever this is before he'd ever wear it," McCoy pointed out. The fact that the shirt wouldn't be in any shape to be worn after all that poking and prodding would just be an unfortunate result of the process. Spock did have a strange sort of pride about him, under all that Vulcan aloofness. He also had zero sense of humor ( ... )
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In his limited reconnaissance of the building, Kirk had taken for granted that its appearance, if not its mission, closely mirrored that of a real mental asylum. In his first year, his program had included an elective which discussed the reformations of penal colonies into hospitals, possibly to make someone on the Academy Board feel better about granting him a waiver for his criminal record. To Kirk's surprise, he'd been fascinated by what he'd learned about Dr. Tristan Adams and his methods, and had wondered more than once if that's where his life might've led him had Pike not stepped into that bar in Iowa. Of course, later it turned out that Adams was doing mind experiments on the inmate-patients in ( ... )
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But it wasn't the fear of not being able to protect the crew which was getting to him. Well, it was, but that fear was less immediate than what Kirk was feeling from Bones. He'd spent his entire childhood constantly trying to gauge the moods of the people around him, and even allowing for all the possible differences in their universes, Kirk's instincts told him that something was bothering McCoy. What, Kirk couldn't tell ( ... )
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