Day 49: Morning - Main Street
[From here.]
Easily forgiven? Unlikely. A pair of (presumably) mental patient committing theft. No, it was highly unlikely they would be easily forgiven. Conscience-wise? It wouldn't even stain his thoughts, really. Nothing like ten years of judgemental slaughter to make your mind jaded against the simpler crimes in the world ( Read more... )
Easily forgiven? Unlikely. A pair of (presumably) mental patient committing theft. No, it was highly unlikely they would be easily forgiven. Conscience-wise? It wouldn't even stain his thoughts, really. Nothing like ten years of judgemental slaughter to make your mind jaded against the simpler crimes in the world ( Read more... )
"Spock's right: this town and our prison are connected, but I don't think that graffiti has to do with us, necessarily. Last night, the radio woman told us of an injured ally... I don't suppose you two managed to make contact with him?" asked Kirk, looking to the science officers. If someone had been gravely hurt, no matter how dubious, Bones would've insisted on helping them, and Spock wasn't nearly as cold as he acted. Kirk was willing to bet they would've tried to follow Jill's hint. However, his and Chekov's own night had been short in the unpredictable way time flowed in this place, and he had to wonder if Spock and McCoy had experienced the same.
Kirk tapped his half-eaten apple against his chin, thinking. "In any case, if this man - and 'Jill' - can be trusted as far as being enemies of Landel, then we can assume that somewhere outside of the Institute, some party doesn't fall under his influence. But if this is their work, the message could be clearer. So. We need more information, and we'd learn quicker if we all split up." His hands fell to his sides as he looked at each of his men in turn.
Just last night, he'd repeated those words about them keeping an eye out for each other, and now he was going to send his crew out individually into Doyleton. Under normal circumstances, with everyone fully equipped with weapons and communicators, Kirk wouldn't have thought twice about splitting up four officers. Here, they were at a disadvantage, but the hospital staff was out in droves today, and would no doubt be even more keen on watching the patients for disruptive activity.
If danger was coming, it wouldn't be until nightfall. "There's at least an hour's worth of ground to cover. Commander Spock and I will start in the south; Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov, take the north. Check anything that appears suspicious, talk to the residents to find out anything interesting..."
Kirk trailed off with a frown. What he'd initially taken to be a (slightly strange) expression of concentration from McCoy hadn't altered in all the time he'd been speaking. That the doctor's eyes now looked like they were boring holes into Chekov was just the icing on the eerie cake.
"Bones," he said sharply.
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He'd need to go to sickbay, confirm the cause of death himself visually then report to the captain after the necessary paperwork was filled out, requesting a replacement...
Hearing his nickname, sharp as a slap, snapped him out of it. Thoughts of a murdered Darnell, going to calmly request that replacement, fluttered away, vanished like smoke into the air and McCoy was jolted back to the present, as if he'd been abruptly doused in cold water. The doctor looked away to find the captain staring at him. He frowned slightly. He had the distinct sensation of a school teacher calling on an errant student.
The last thing he remembered listening to was Chekov giving his report. So why the devil was Jim looking at him as if he'd grown a second head?
Maybe what was equally unsettling was why he was waxing nostalgic about his youth that was firmly behind him in the first place, or the fact that he was suddenly remembering the negative aspects, like the commute to school or being caught unawares by a teacher.
There wasn't any beating about the bush. He hadn't been paying attention. McCoy offered an apologetic smile: "Sorry, Jim, you were saying?"
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Despite Chekov's claims that he was unwilling to speculate on why the faces were there, Spock believed it was unlikely that they had been a product of any of the patients. Painting designs on buildings was hardly a priority for anyone more concerned with preserving their own life. Perhaps someone had set up the patients somehow in lieu of discussing the "zombies"? Or was this some sort of statement from one of the rebelling factions against Landel?
Certainly there was a limit to Landel's influence. He was only one man, after all, and it would be logical for the operation within the institute to be kept as much of a secret as possible. Otherwise, there would be no reason for the facility to pose as a hospital for the mentally ill during the day. Judging by some of the comments made by the I.R.I.S. system, however, he could not dismiss the idea that this was the result of a much larger project that influenced other facets of life for neighboring civilians. With that in mind, it was obvious such questions merited further investigation.
"Negative, Captain, we were unable to make contact with the injured individual," Spock replied. "Night ended before we could venture too far into the building, unfortunately." As a result, they hadn't completed any of their objectives or obtained any new information. Their experience was just another testament to the manner in which even the time spent outside of their rooms did not truly belong to them.
He agreed with Kirk's assessment that they could cover the most ground if they split up and conduct independent investigations. "Understood, sir," Spock replied, though he suddenly shifted his gaze toward the doctor when Kirk tried to get his attention. His silence during the past few minutes was rather unusual, though Spock had attributed it to him listening carefully to their orders. Apparently it had been quite the opposite, which was unacceptable given their potentially dangerous circumstances.
"We are working individually as we explore the town and speak with the inhabitants in order to collect more information, Doctor," Spock coldly informed him. "You and Mr. Chekov will start from the north side of town, while Captain Kirk and myself will begin from the south. I suggest paying closer attention to your surroundings as you do so." While he was at it, he turned toward Chekov. "And I should hope you will take better care in considering alternative possibilities regarding our situation while you look for leads, Ensign."
There were only four officers here. Spock fully expected each one to make substantial contributions to their investigation and not place anymore undue burdens on the captain or himself.
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Truth be told, he had thought of possibilities for the graffiti, but each theory seemed more ridiculous than the last--and given that he'd just spent the past few minutes informing the entire crew that he'd had a chance meeting with a man who looked exactly like Commander Spock, he wasn't about to go spouting unsupported, haphazard theories without thinking them through. Of course the patients probably (probably) had better things to do than vandalize a town full of reanimated humans. But why would a resistance force do something as ridiculous as vandalizing a town wall with the symbol for the very thing they were fighting against? And there was no reason for Landel to do it himself. The town was already under his influence, there was no need to mark it in such a crude fashion. But if it was a message, what was the message? What could be conveyed in a symbol? That someone was watching? That someone knew the town and the prison were connected? What?
It was this uncertainty that had caused Chekov to balk at giving any theory whatsoever. Apparently though, Commander Spock had been expecting him to give one. Even after his unnecessary report. Even as the Doctor stared at him, possibly watching to see if Chekov was going to report anything else unnecessary? Saying Chekov was relieved when Captain Kirk called Doctor McCoy's attention away from him was an extreme understatement. At least now he could be humiliated without being stared at.
"Yes, sir," Chekov said meekly, meeting the Commander's eyes briefly before looking back down at the pavement then up to Doctor McCoy and then Captain Kirk.
"Perheps if we each took a... quadrant of ze town, we would be able to cower it more thoroughly. For exemple, Doctor McCoy could take ze northwest quadrant, and I would take ze northeast. And so forth," he finished. And then added:
"If zat is an acceptable plen of action, sir." He looked nervously between the officers in front of him.
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Kirk had been on the receiving end of that reproachful tone before, which at the time had done nothing but piss him off, but one couldn't deny that the Vulcan had a way with words. Cool, precise, eviscerating - he bet half of Spock's students wept after receiving their evaluations.
Harsh, Kirk mouthed at his first officer, first making sure that neither McCoy nor Chekov were looking. Whatever his opinion of Spock's personal touch, he wasn't about to undercut his authority in front of them. Anyway, Kirk had to acknowledge the benefits to having a second-in-command willing to take on the unpopular job of terrorizing the crew from over his shoulder.
For one, it made it so much sweeter when Kirk flashed a consoling smile and played the role of ship dad. (Or was that mom, if Spock was being the disciplinarian?) "Yes, good idea, Chekov. Northeast, northwest, southeast," he said, indicating the ensign, McCoy and Spock in turn with his apple. "You can work your way out once you've covered your area. I'll see you all at the end of the day when the buses take us back. If something happens like last week, we rendezvous here. If for whatever reason that's not possible, find someone to travel with, and stay safe until morning."
Kirk took a deep breath. There weren't many guarantees in this unpredictable place, but the abrupt reset at the end of the night had stayed consistent, even if the length of the night didn't. No matter what happened after the sun set, if they were still alive, they would wake up again in their cells.
And sometimes even when they weren't alive, but Kirk wasn't going to think about that happening again. "Also, seeing how we all had short nights, same after hours assignments as before. We'll see how well that works out." He'd thought splitting into smaller groups had been the key to achieving more, but apparently not. One baffling roadblock after another - it was a good thing Kirk wasn't easily discouraged.
He looked expectantly at his officers, waiting for acknowledgment.
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And here he was thinking Jim's interruption was sharp as a slap. Spock was more like a whip crack, one that also bluntly called you out on exactly what you could improve without a care for sparing the ego. McCoy was professional enough to feel properly chastised, especially since this time he certainly deserved it. He'd had his head in the clouds, there wasn't getting around that simple fact, and he'd made Spock repeat Jim's briefing.
What bothered McCoy nearly as much as making that necessary was that he didn't have any answers for how that happened in the first place. In all his years in service, he'd never just zoned out like that. He didn't go daydreaming on the captain's or a patient's time. In this day and age, where humans could easily live to a healthy one hundred years or more, forty wasn't exactly old. Having memory lapses at his age was very rare, almost unheard of. He didn't have anything flag raising in his family's medical history.
Maybe that blasted bus rattled my skull, McCoy grumbled silently. Whatever the reason was, the doctor was in the wrong and knew it. He couldn't afford to have his mind wandering, not when they needed to gather as much information as possible and function as a team.
Jim flashed them a smile, then continued smoothly. With the way the night had ended so quickly for them last night, he wasn't too surprised to hear they hadn't had much success. Had that woman found help for her friend?
He hoped so.
"Understood, Captain," the doctor said. He lifted an eyebrow at that second to last order.It sounded like a contingency plan. "What happened last week?"
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They both seemed to understand and accept what he said, however, and so Spock saw no reason to speak of it further. He trusted in the admirable abilities of their crew, and believed they were up to the task so long as they properly applied to themselves to their duties.
Chekov's suggestion was sound, and it appeared the captain agreed. Kirk's orders for the rest of the day and night were clear. Ideally, their trip back to the institute would be without incident, but it was logical for them to acknowledge and prepare for the possibility that something could go awry.
"Understood, sir," Spock replied before turning toward McCoy. It seemed unusual that no one had briefed him over what happened, though it was also true that he had not been here as long as the others. "A horde of creatures with rotting skin attacked both the town and Landel's Institute. In addition to craving human flesh, they apparently carried a dangerous pathogen that caused a person who was exposed to display similar symptoms."
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He and Captain Kirk had an intimate meeting with these particular creatures last week, but until now Chekov hadn't known that they passed disease. It made logical sense, given that corpses were breeding grounds for bacteria and pathogens, but Chekov hadn't thought that a disease could cause an otherwise healthy person to want to eat human flesh. He suspected that if he and Captain Kirk had been exposed, they would have displayed symptoms before now. Now, however, Chekov's only concern was avoiding contracting such a disease.
He looked to Doctor McCoy, silently questioning if the doctor had heard of such a disease before. Though should he contract this disease, Chekov had a feeling Doctor McCoy wouldn't be able to do very much about it.
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