Night 47: Main Hallway, 2-Center
[from here]It was times like this he had to wonder if he was the only damn person in this place who still cared about finding the fastest way home possible. Which probably wasn't true, but hell. Seeing as the only people he'd worked with so far had 'stealing books' as a goal or were setting up training nights, it was no damn wonder he was feeling
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They hadn't proceeded far into the hallway when Spock slowed down. In the dim lighting, he was barely able to see a humanoid form apparently floating in mid air. If he wasn't mistaken, two others were involved, carrying themselves as though they were engaged in combat. It was difficult to gain a full grasp on the situation -- only that the floating figure appeared female, and that some sort of odd substance or energy was emerging from its center and enveloping it. More than that, however, it was likely hostile as well.
Although Spock did not wish to leave civilians locked in a dangerous situation, the fact remained that neither himself nor Dr. McCoy were equipped enough to handle the conflict. As it was, becoming involved would serve as more of a hindrance than a help. Furthermore, if they stopped now, they would be unable to complete the task of locating more supplies. It was only with sufficient supplies that they would increase their chances of succeeding in future engagements with the institute's unusual creatures.
Attempting to pass by unnoticed was the most logical course of action. Should that plan fail, Spock knew he would need to give the order to retreat.
Expression stoic, the first officer glanced toward McCoy in order to make certain he was with him, and moved closer to the wall. They both knew the supposed location of the pharmacy; he trusted the doctor to move along with him as they tried to circle around the conflict and make their way to their destination.
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Spock glanced back at him pointedly: his meaning was clear. The look stopped him from taking another step. The blasted hobgoblin actually wanted to just walk on right past as if they didn't see anything? McCoy frowned at him but pressed himself against the wall. He scooted up closer to the First Officer as they moved, enough so the Vulcan could hear him.
"Spock, we can't just leave them to it," McCoy said quietly. Neither he nor Spock had a means of defend themselves, much less anything on the way of offense that he could see. But leaving those patients to their fate wasn't right. Somewhere in that icy logic of his was a set of ethics. Spock might be one of the most cold-blooded men he'd ever known, but McCoy knew by now that there was a strange set of honor and morals in there somewhere. Even he had to see this was wrong!
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This was not their battle to fight. Not only that, but Spock had an obligation to make certain that he and McCoy did not put themselves in more danger than necessary.
"Their blade is better suited for combat than our current equipment, Doctor," Spock murmured. "They have the means to retreat if they so desire. Our presence is not necessary and may prove to be more of a detriment than a relief." McCoy may not have liked it, but pressing onward toward their destination was the most logical choice.
By now they had reached the intersection near where the pharmacy was supposedly located. They would need to dart to the north if they wanted to reach the room without being brought into the conflict.
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Spock was utterly right. Those patients could just retreat (assuming that creature didn't follow them), and realistically, they'd just get underfoot if they tried to help just now. Could even make things worse by presenting a distraction. As much as he hated to admit it, McCoy had to admit the logic was sound. Spock was right, perfectly logical as always, and it suddenly annoyed McCoy to high heaven. Even if they were plenty of reasons not to get involved, it was awfully cold to just move on like that. Those were other living beings there, people in trouble.
He hoped Spock was right. He hoped they would retreat. McCoy kept his ears open, straining to hear the results of the battle.
The flashlight beam slid from placard to placard. It finally caught on a particular one, one that read "Pharmacy". He reached out, fingers wrapping around the door handle. He tried pushing, but the door didn't give. It only jiggled in place.
McCoy looked at Spock, eyebrow lifted. "Seems awfully strange to lock this when they forgot to keep the patients locked as well," he said tersely.
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Once McCoy's flashlight settled on the correct placard, the First Officer slowed down and allowed McCoy to try the handle. Although the apparent lock was inconvenient, this wasn't the first time Spock had seen this sort of situation in the institute. If anything, the security measures placed upon some of the rooms here were flimsy at best, almost as if they were nothing more than an outward show of keeping patients out. The doctor's office he had entered with Venom and Alkaid had been enforced in such a way; therefore, it was possible the pharmacy was the same.
He briefly reached out for the handle, testing it himself. When it didn't budge, Spock glanced toward McCoy. "We may be able to force it open. Since my strength is not at full capacity, however, I shall require your assistance."
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Spock was stubbornly sticking to logic only. That incident on Taurus II had proved that you just couldn't predict events and people's actions (especially emotional beings) by logic alone. Spock didn't know what they'd do any more than he did.
"Fine, on the count of three," McCoy said tightly. They'd have to bodily slam it. It was a lot safer than the alternative. McCoy wasn't about ready to go treating some broken ankles just because someone thought they could kick a door down in light shoes. The door would open on the first blow or two if there was any luck to the universe. If it didn't, he was going to be sporting a number of bruises the next day. Knowing Spock, he'd walk off just fine. He had his Vulcan constitution to thank for that, the very same that allowed him to coldly make that decision to leave those patients.
The doctor glanced back the way they came despite himself. It was muffled by the hallway, but was someone pleading with that thing?
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He sensed the doctor looking over his shoulder, though Spock kept his focus on the door in front of them, and by extension the task at hand. McCoy seemed displeased with the decision to stay out of the conflict that was raging nearby. Surely even he understood the logic behind their current course of action. Consequently, there was no use in dwelling on what was behind them. Spock did not wish to leave civilians in any unnecessary danger, no, but they'd already established that their help would be useless to them. Right now searching for supplies needed to be their main priority.
"Very well," he spoke evenly, trusting that his words would draw McCoy's attention to where it needed to be right then. "One...two...three."
Spock's mouth faintly tightened as he threw his shoulder at the door. It wasn't the cleanest way to make an entrance, but it was the only option available to them, given the circumstances.
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As partners went, the doctor wasn't exactly the best for knocking a door down himself. Any member of Security likely could, but he was just a doctor. McCoy wasn't out of shape, but he wasn't exactly packed down with weight either.
He supposed the only good thing about this was that he didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of Spock. The doctor looked to Spock, this time counting down before he threw himself once again at the door.
The door suddenly gave way under them.
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