Fic: Matters of Medical Necessities, Chapter 3
Author’s Notes: Holy crap! You all like this? Awesome! Like my first story Alienated, I never really planned on posting this one. It was just something I was going to bang out quick because it was trying to eat my brain. But, like all my other stories, I have yet to be able to do something short, and this story is no exception. It’s still growing. In any case, you all can thank Anasazi Darkmoon for telling me that I should both write it and post it. She’s really the only reason this story exists in the first place!
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything remotely related to the good ship Enterprise, nor that of the giant fighting robots. They belong to Paramount and Hasbro, respectively. Don’t sue me. Really.
Chapter 3
Kirk dropped into his quarters just long enough to jump in the sonic shower and grab a fresh change of clothes. Off duty for the evening, he chose a simple getup of black pants and shirt similar to what he’d worn during the whole Nero debacle. Jim grabbed his communicator off the nightstand, slapped it on his chest, and walked out the door.
The quarters of the Captain’s quarters zipped shut behind him. Kirk turned and addressed the computer console. “Computer, location of Dr. Leonard McCoy.”
A benign female voice responded, “Dr. McCoy is presently located in his quarters.”
Jim cracked his neck back and forth. In Spock’s words, McCoy would, “undoubtedly be quite displeased,” and it was going to be one hell of a knock down, drag out fight to get his friend to agree. And simply because he was Kirk’s, his slightly antagonistic nature was going enjoy every second of it. In his esteemed, captain’s opinion, Bones needed someone to rattle his cage every now and again. And if that person happened to be the man in charge of the Enterprise, then perhaps it was just one of the perks of command.
Kirk found himself in front of Bones’ quarters. He rang the door chime, louder and longer than was probably necessary. When Bones didn’t answer, Kirk rang again, nodding to a couple of Ensigns passing in the hallway. Still nothing.
Jim sighed, running and hand through his hair. He snap-clapped his hands together a couple of times as he took one step back. Kirk entered his manual override code into the lock panel on Bones’ quarters, frowning when the door didn’t open. The Captain’s code was supposed to be able to override every lock on the ship. Trust Bones to figure out a way around the Captain.
‘You’ve got to be the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest.’ Pike’s voice rang through Jim’s head, a sinister smile making its way across the young captain’s face. Pike didn’t call him out on his record for nothing. Looking over his shoulders, for what he was about to do would be highly unbecoming of a Starfleet captain, Kirk dropped to one knee and popped the access panel off the wall. He quickly bypassed a couple of sensor nodes and pressed the proper contact points with the practiced ease of a long-time criminal. Beeping positively, the door whooshed open and the Enterprise Captain stepped into his CMO’s personal living space.
Kirk gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room. It’d been a while since he’d been inside Bones’ quarters, and he wasn’t surprised to find them still sparse. Kirk shook his head. The man worked far too hard and slept much too little, most times catching a few hours’ sleep at his desk or on the cot in his office. When the Enterprise left space dock after being repaired after her fight with the Narada, Kirk often wondered why he’d even bothered assigning McCoy personal space to begin with.
The living space for the Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer was supposed to be somewhat luxurious by military standards. It was one of the few perks of the job. Bones’ quarters, on the other hand, was not. It was really just one big room, much like the studio apartments of the 20th and 21st centuries, sans kitchen. A bed sat along the far wall and bathroom off to the left. Situated against the opposite wall was a desk, the surface of which littered with PADDs. Bookcases and a small closet sat near the bed, but the space felt figuratively cold and somewhat unwelcoming. As Kirk’s eyes bounced from wall to wall, he noticed a conspicuous absence of most personal touches most crew members often brought to remind them of home. Kirk made a mental note to talk to Bones about that.
Jim walked stealthily into the room, careful to keep the lights off. He cocked his head to the side, listening for the sound of the only reason the doctor used his quarters: his real, honest to goodness running water shower. Kirk always wondered who or what entity McCoy blackmailed in order to have a real shower installed in the CMOs quarters aboard a starship. In the years that they had served together, the Captain’s friend and ship’s doctor had been rather tight lipped on the subject. It wasn’t that McCoy didn’t deserve it, but it was a bit out of place.
Jim shook his head. He was here on business, and he was listening for the shower or for Bones’ annoyingly loud snoring. The latter was an embarrassing habit the doctor vehemently denied, though Kirk had first hand knowledge to refute his friend. When no obnoxiously heinous noise could be heard from the bed, Jim crept toward the bathroom. The light was on and the door closed, signifying Bones’ presence inside. A few seconds later, Kirk heard the shower snap off. Since waiting was never really his forte, the Captain settled himself comfortably down on McCoy’s bed to wait.
Bones walked out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear, a towel slung around his broad shoulders. For a man who took very little time to care for himself, McCoy cut an impressive figure. Kirk always figured Bones stayed in shape by hauling around unruly patients by their species-specific ear and then tossing them onto the biobeds all day long. The Captain smirked at the thought as McCoy rubbed at his hair to dry it, the latter still oblivious to his Captain parked casually on his bed.
“Lights. Fifty percent,” the doctor barked as he exited his bathroom. The lights came up, and in one smooth motion, Bones tossed the used towel on his bed. Kirk instinctively reached out to catch the flying piece of cloth as it sailed toward his head. When the bed moved, McCoy jumped back, cursing loudly. “Dammit, man! What the hell? That’s the second time today! Are you purposely trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Hiya, Bones,” Kirk was stretched out on his back, his feet crossed at the ankles, arms behind his head, and his head pillowed on his forearms.
“Jim.” McCoy growled. He was most decidedly not in the mood for Kirk’s games tonight, and the Cheshire cat smirk plastered all over Jim’s face was also not helping matters in the slightest bit. “How the hell did you get into my quarters? That lock was supposed to be--”
“Yeah. We need to have a little chat about that. See, I tried my override code and nothing happened. So I tried it again and it still didn’t work. That’s a problem because I’m supposed to be able to access any room in the ship with that code. You know, being the Captain and all.” Kirk propped himself up on one elbow and looked his friend in the eye. “What did you do, Bones?”
McCoy, avoiding Jim’s question, walked over and pushed Kirk’s legs off his bed. Growling, he said, “Get your damned shoes off my bed. They’re full of dirt from Venga III.”
“You’re sidestepping me. What did you do? And who helped you? I know you can’t do that reprogramming all by yourself.” Jim raised an eyebrow. “And would it kill you to put on some clothes?”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “You’ve seen far worse than this, Jim. Do you remember that you were my roommate at the Academy? The ratio to what you saw from me compared to what I had to endure from you is off the charts unfair. I can assure you those are three years I will never forget. I’ve seen more of you than my brain should have to handle, and that doesn’t count the times I’ve acted as your doctor!”
Kirk laughed, knowing exactly what the doctor meant. Jim was a hellion, and back at the Academy, a bit of player. He fully admitted that. McCoy, on the other hand, was a completely different story; though on the rare occasions Bones cut loose, he did it up good and proper. “Right. And you were the poster child for sobriety and good behavior. Do I need to remind you of the time you challenged me to the Power Hour and then lost the bet--”
McCoy held up his hand to forestall the story he knew was coming. No, he did not need Jim Kirk rehashing quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life, and that included his childhood, time in college, med school and during his divorce. Combined. Apparently, trying to go shot for shot at Starfleet Academy with cadets half his age had been a very, very bad idea. Though Bones had no memory of the alleged incident, Kirk had pictures and video to prove that an incredibly inebriated McCoy had indeed stripped naked and streaked through campus on Jim’s dare. His literal hide had only been spared because Pike, the reigning Czar of Discipline of Starfleet Academy at the time, thought it was so uncharacteristically hilarious for the straight-laced doctor to cause such a ruckus, he’d been unable to punish McCoy properly. The Captain had instead sent McCoy away with nothing but a severely bruised ego and a figurative slap on the wrist. Damn Kirk for never letting him forget that.
“No, Jim you do not need to remind me that. And just drop the door thing, okay? It won’t happen again.” Truth be told, the doctor only wanted the change the subject because he didn’t want to have to implicate Chekov as his helper. Kirk was right - there wasn’t any way Bones could hack the system and alter it on his own. Turning, McCoy muttered, “What’s the point of door locks when the Captain just breaks in anyway? ‘Private quarters’ my ass!”
“They’re private enough, Bones.”
McCoy shot Kirk a glare as he stuffed one leg into a pair of loose fitting pajama-type pants. “Says the criminal,” Bones cut himself off dramatically. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean to say, ‘Says the Captain’.”
Jim barked a laugh, the sound rich and reverberating off the walls.
“Now, what’s the point of this, or are you just here to irritate me because you think it’s a sport?” McCoy crossed his arms over his chest, a black shirt similar to Kirk’s own dangling from his fingertips.
Jim hopped up off McCoy’s bed. “Nope. I’m here on business.”
The doctor’s head poked through the top of his shirt. Frowning, he drawled, “Oh, really. Forgive me if I don’t believe that.” He motioned for Kirk to move to the tiny living area, situated near the door.
The captain settled himself in one of Bones’ oversized arm chairs while McCoy padded over to the liquor cabinet, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet. Bones set two tumblers on the table and poured some whiskey into them. Kirk raised a questioning eyebrow.
“After today, I think I deserve a drink,” Bones grumbled, splashing three fingers’ worth of the amber liquid into each glass. He handed one to Kirk.
“I thought you quit that shit,” Kirk replied. Picking up the glass, he sipped it and amended, “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. This is good, Bones. Where’d you get it?”
“I’m taking the Fifth on this one. The less you know, the better off you’ll be,” McCoy muttered.
“Right. Plausible deniability. I like it.”
Bones grunted. “Now, what the hell is it you’ve come to pester me for? Haven’t you gotten enough entertainment at my expense for one day?”
“Well first, I wanted to ask you what you thought about the samples we’re carting back to Earth,” Kirk asked.
“You mean that container of death and dismay we picked up from Starbase 87, the one now locked safely in my office?” McCoy asked.
“I don’t think I’d put it so much like that, but yeah. That one.”
McCoy scoffed hard. “Damned foolish if you ask me. We’re out in the black in a pressurized tin can. One leak in that casing - that’s all it would take and all of us would die, slowly and painfully. And there wouldn’t be a thing I could do.”
“Tell me again, what exactly are they?” Kirk asked seriously. He wasn’t sure if McCoy was talking about the container for the samples or the ship itself. Though Bones always had a flair for the dramatic, the look in his eyes told Kirk that the surgeon was genuinely concerned about the latest batch of Federation property being ferried around by the starship. McCoy was never very good at keeping his emotions from his face, most particularly his eyes, and it was one of the doctor’s tells Jim was glad to be able to read.
Bones ran a hand through his still-wet hair. “They’re cryogenically frozen, inactive virus and poison samples from old, 20th and 21st century Earth diseases. During their time, Ebola, malaria, tuberculosis, H1N1, ricin - they were all fatal in varying degrees. With the exception of ricin, which is a poison, all the samples are contagious diseases that caused a pandemic at some point in history. Ricin’s fatal dose is about half the size of a grain of sand.”
Kirk furrowed his brows. “So they’re all old diseases. It sounds like the only thing we really have to be concerned about is the ricin. And besides, they’re inactive.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Jim. Ricin scares me because there’s still no cure for it, but the other diseases flat-out terrify me. One of them, let alone the group, could literally wipe out this entire ship. We haven’t seen diseases like those in over 200 years, so none of us are going to have any kind of immunity to them. Ebola’s a hemorrhagic fever. It’ll liquefy your body from the inside out. Malaria, TB and H1N1 could all cripple this ship with how many sick, feverish, vomiting, coughing and downright miserable people we’ll have. That’s if we’re lucky. People would die if it got loose.”
Jim repeated himself. “But, you said they’re inactive. How could anyone be infected if the virus is dead?”
“I don’t trust the work of someone else. And, since I’m not about to open the Box of Black Plague on a starship with recycled air, I’m working under the assumption that the viruses are living. Call me paranoid, Jim, but I want to be safe.”
Kirk laughed. “You’re paranoid, Bones.”
McCoy nodded.
“So, let’s just say for a minute that these viruses are actually living. What’s the treatment regimen?”
“Standard treatment of those diseases back in the 20th and 21st centuries was a healthy dose of antibiotics and to let the disease either run its course or hope for it to go into remission. Most of all, people used to just cross their fingers and pray,” McCoy answered. “It’s not much of a cure, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Abnormally silent, Jim processed all the information. “And if it gets loose?”
“We lock down the ship, and try to contain it. Unfortunately, they’re all airborne in transmission, so there’s not much hope to keep it from making its way though the ventilation system. And there’s not much I could do, because I don’t have any of the anti-vaccines on board. I’d have to manufacture them, and then I don’t know how the crew would react to it.”
“So, we’d better make sure nothing gets out. You said it’s locked up in your office, right?”
McCoy took a sip of his drink. “Yeah. Tucked away in my safe. Only people who can open it are you, me, Chapel and M’Benga.”
“Good. Be sure it stays there, Doctor,” Kirk replied, satisfied with the explanation.
“Oh, you don’t need to tell me twice. I don’t need that shit floating around this tin can,” McCoy amended. Kirk chucked as heard Bones mumble something about, ‘Disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.’
“Bones, you signed up for Starfleet. I didn’t make you. And I specifically remember reminding you on that shuttle that we operate in space,” Kirk taunted. “You could have backed out then.”
Mumbling some more curses under his breath, Bones deftly side-stepped Jim’s line of question with, “I still don’t know why we have to take it back anyway.”
Kirk clapped his friend on the back. “Because Starfleet says so. I might be in charge of this, ‘pressurized tin can,’ but I still do what the Admiralty says, much as I may dislike them.”
The two men sat and drank in silence for a few minutes, neither one minding the quiet that permeated the room. Finally, McCoy turned his head to address Kirk. “I know you didn’t break into my personal quarters just to ask me about the virus samples. What do you really want, Jim?”
“Your powers of observation are improving, Bones,” Jim gently kidded.
“My, ‘powers of observation’ tell me that you’re here right now to be a pain in my ass, Kid,” Bones shot back.
“That’s my purpose in life. It’s the side duty I signed up for, and the one Pike gave me. It’s a rough job, but someone has to do it.” Jim snarked back. Pausing, he asked, “No, Bones. In all reality, I need a favor from you.”
McCoy scoffed, placing one hand dramatically over his chest. “Oh? From me? The great James Tiberius Kirk needs something from his lowly, long-suffering CMO?”
“Quit being such a drama queen, Bones, and just shut up and listen,” Jim scolded. “God. I swear you’re worse than my sister!”
“You don’t have a sister,” McCoy retorted.
“Exactly my point.”
“Touché.” McCoy took a sip of his drink and leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. It hit the backrest with a light ‘thump.’ Without opening his eyes, McCoy sighed, “All right, Jim. I’ll bite, though lord knows I shouldn’t. What do you want?”
Kirk set his drink down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I told Ratchet that I would allow him to stay on the ship and that we’d help him find his species, if they still exist.”
“Isn’t that our job?” McCoy asked, cracking one eye open.
“Yeah it is, but this guy has both Spock and me a little concerned. He’s huge, he’s strong and he’s got a hell of a lot of knowledge about humanity we can’t seem to corroborate.”
“How so?”
“Well, if you’d stuck around instead of having a man-fit, you might already know,” Kirk shot back, unable to resist the small barb directed at the doctor.
McCoy picked his head up off the couch and shot his friend a look specifically saying, ‘Don’t go there,’ over the rim of his glass.
Kirk put his hands up in a friendly gesture of surrender. “All right! Put down the figurative hyposprays and relax, Bones. Basically, Ratchet gave us a little different version of what happened a couple hundred years ago. I gotta admit his version makes a lot more sense, given what he is.”
“And what, exactly, is he?” McCoy asked. “Because I would really like to know.”
Kirk launched into the story Ratchet had shown him and Spock, complete with all the missing details about Megatron, Mission City, The Fallen, Egypt and the U.S. Government’s involvement with the cover-up. Throughout the story, McCoy said nothing, instead settling for grunts in the appropriate places.
When Jim finished, Bones still wasn’t convinced. “So you meet one strange alien who tells you a fancy story about what he supposedly lived through, and you throw away all properly recorded history on a whim?”
“No. That’s what I’m saying.” Kirk shook his head. “I’m not just disregarding everything I knew about our past, but I can’t discount what Ratchet’s saying as untrue, either.”
McCoy leaned back on the couch and propped one foot up on the coffee table, internalizing a sigh. He knew that look on Kirk’s face too well. It was the one the captain usually wore when he was thinking too hard about something that didn’t really concern him in the first place. Tentatively, Bones asked, “What is it, exactly, that you’re suggesting?”
‘Here goes nothing,’ Jim thought. Trying to be as casual as possible, Kirk said, “I had to come up with a happy medium. You know Grankowski would have my balls if I let Ratchet wander around unchecked, but on the other hand, I can’t treat him like a prisoner, either. He’s done nothing to warrant it. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Like he’d fit anywhere,” Bones muttered, pouring himself and Kirk another drink.
“Besides that very obvious point,” Kirk started, “I don’t know how we’d check him out, and we don’t know anything about him or his species. There’s nothing in the Federation databases, and no one has even heard of any type of creatures. So, Spock and I came to the conclusion that he needs to have a liaison with him at all times. It had to be someone I trust, and someone who he could deal with on a personal level.”
The wheels in McCoy’s head began to turn, the doctor’s brain slamming on the proverbial brakes when he put two and two together. Nearly spitting the outrageously expensive bourbon all over the room, Bones sputtered, “Me? You mean me? Oh, hell no, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a politician. There is no way I’m going to waste my time babysitting a giant alien robot so he can try to comm home!”
The Captain smirked. “Why not? What’s so bad about it? You’re both doctors, you do the same things, and I think you could learn from him. Didn’t you just say we’re supposed to help out when we can?”
“Yes, but that’s not---”
Kirk cut McCoy off before he could finish his thought. “Good. It’s settled.”
McCoy was incredulous. “The hell it is! No, Jim, and I will say it until my voice is gone. No, I will not. Just…NO!”
“Why not, Bones? You’re always complaining that you don’t get out of your medical bay enough. Now, here I am, giving you the opportunity, and you’re acting like a child about it,” Kirk replied.
Bones rubbed his tired eyes with the pads of his fingers. Kirk was right. “I know that, Jim. I just don’t think I’m the right man for the job. I can’t do it, not without wanting to kill him,” McCoy admitted aloud. To himself, he acknowledged that maybe he and Ratchet were too similar to be in that close of proximity to each other for any extended period of time. The ship wasn’t big enough for that.
Jim sat up, his face relaxed and smiling but his eyes dead serious. He’d heard what he needed, and now it was time to be the Captain, not McCoy’s best friend. “Yes, you will. You don’t have to like it, but you will do it, Doctor.”
McCoy put his hands on his hips and hung his head. He knew that ‘Captain’ tone when he heard it. Jim was one short step from ordering him to do it, and McCoy didn’t really want to have to force his friend’s hand like that. Bones chewed lightly on his bottom lip, a habit Kirk long recognized as one that signaled irritation from the doctor. He sighed and then looked up. “All right. I’ll do it. But I swear to you the moment that giant tin can tries something funny with me, I’ll weld his tailpipe shut!”
“You don’t even know how to use the welder, Bones,” Kirk, smirking, reminded his friend.
McCoy took a gulp of bourbon. Staring straight ahead, McCoy was deadpanned. “I’ll learn. That talking piece of metal will be a great training tool.”
Kirk internally laughed. McCoy was so amusing when he was pissed, which happened to be often. At the present moment, the doctor reminded the captain of an angry porcupine, his hair sticking up in all directions, his face slightly puffy and red and breathing harder than normal. But, as funny as McCoy could be, actually dealing with his moods presented an entirely different challenge. Sighing, Kirk said, “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Absolutely not!” came the doctor’s vehement reply.
The captain rolled his eyes. Some days, Jim wished he’d been assigned a different, significantly less annoying roommate at the Academy. Looking at McCoy literally pouting on the couch next to him, Kirk was also certain that more often than not, the feeling was completely mutual. “Bones, I mean it. You can’t just ignore him, and you can’t use him as experiment, either. If you try, I’ll let Ratchet teach you ancient human football and let him use you as the ball. I guarantee that a good portion of this ship’s company, you know the ninety percent that thinks you’re the devil incarnate, will appreciate it. Who knows? I might even sell tickets.”
McCoy responded by cursing liberally and muttering under his breath about daredevil commanders barely old enough to be out of diapers. It was a comment that Kirk pretended not to hear.
“Well, I’m off.” Jim knocked back the dregs of his glass and set it on the table. Hopping to his feet, he walked to the door. As he reached the threshold, he looked back at the doctor. “Promise me you’ll at least make an effort to get along with Ratchet before you try and turn his exhaust inside out?”
McCoy gave Kirk a non-committal grunt of understanding. “I’ll try,” he mumbled.
Kirk nodded. “That’s all I can ask. G’night, Bones.”
“Goodnight, you pain in my ass,” McCoy answered to Kirk’s retreated back. When Kirk hovered in the doorway, McCoy tossed out, “Now are you going to leave, or do you plan on haunting my quarters all evening?”
Jim waved a hand in the air. “All right, all right. I’m going. Keep you pants on, Bones. You scare my crew enough as it is.”
With the proverbial parting shot across the bow, Kirk took off. The temporary bright light from the hallway disappeared, once again bathing the room in semi-darkness. McCoy slammed the remains of his drink and poured himself a third. If he was going to have a conversation tonight with a certain Federation guest, he thought maybe a little inhibition killer would be just the thing to help him through it.
The doctor grabbed the two used glasses and the bottle of bourbon from the table. He deposited the glasses in the proper receptacle and stowed the alcohol in its original and safe spot. The CMO stood in the middle of his quarters contemplating his next move. Exhaling harshly, McCoy ran one hand through his hair.
Looking up, Bones barked, “Computer! Location of that…thing we brought on board earlier.”
“More specifics are required. Please restate your inquiry.”
McCoy scowled and tried again. “Location of the universe’s biggest pain in my ass!”
“Invalid entry. Please restate your inquiry.”
“Dammit, I don’t want to ‘restate my inquiry.’ Just tell me where the hell Ratchet is!”
“Federation guest Ratchet is presently located in the cargo bay three.”
“Useless piece of space junk.” McCoy muttered, though his double entendre was clear. He grabbed his communicator, jammed his feet in a pair of boots and exited his quarters.
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Next Up: McCoy and Ratchet go toe to toe, and Scotty finally meets the giant fighting robot.
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Click here for chapter 1
Click here for chapter 2
Click here for chapter 3
Click here for chapter 4
Click here for chapter 5
Click here for chapter 6
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything remotely related to the good ship Enterprise, nor that of the giant fighting robots. They belong to Paramount and Hasbro, respectively. Don’t sue me. Really.
Chapter 3
Kirk dropped into his quarters just long enough to jump in the sonic shower and grab a fresh change of clothes. Off duty for the evening, he chose a simple getup of black pants and shirt similar to what he’d worn during the whole Nero debacle. Jim grabbed his communicator off the nightstand, slapped it on his chest, and walked out the door.
The quarters of the Captain’s quarters zipped shut behind him. Kirk turned and addressed the computer console. “Computer, location of Dr. Leonard McCoy.”
A benign female voice responded, “Dr. McCoy is presently located in his quarters.”
Jim cracked his neck back and forth. In Spock’s words, McCoy would, “undoubtedly be quite displeased,” and it was going to be one hell of a knock down, drag out fight to get his friend to agree. And simply because he was Kirk’s, his slightly antagonistic nature was going enjoy every second of it. In his esteemed, captain’s opinion, Bones needed someone to rattle his cage every now and again. And if that person happened to be the man in charge of the Enterprise, then perhaps it was just one of the perks of command.
Kirk found himself in front of Bones’ quarters. He rang the door chime, louder and longer than was probably necessary. When Bones didn’t answer, Kirk rang again, nodding to a couple of Ensigns passing in the hallway. Still nothing.
Jim sighed, running and hand through his hair. He snap-clapped his hands together a couple of times as he took one step back. Kirk entered his manual override code into the lock panel on Bones’ quarters, frowning when the door didn’t open. The Captain’s code was supposed to be able to override every lock on the ship. Trust Bones to figure out a way around the Captain.
‘You’ve got to be the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest.’ Pike’s voice rang through Jim’s head, a sinister smile making its way across the young captain’s face. Pike didn’t call him out on his record for nothing. Looking over his shoulders, for what he was about to do would be highly unbecoming of a Starfleet captain, Kirk dropped to one knee and popped the access panel off the wall. He quickly bypassed a couple of sensor nodes and pressed the proper contact points with the practiced ease of a long-time criminal. Beeping positively, the door whooshed open and the Enterprise Captain stepped into his CMO’s personal living space.
Kirk gave his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room. It’d been a while since he’d been inside Bones’ quarters, and he wasn’t surprised to find them still sparse. Kirk shook his head. The man worked far too hard and slept much too little, most times catching a few hours’ sleep at his desk or on the cot in his office. When the Enterprise left space dock after being repaired after her fight with the Narada, Kirk often wondered why he’d even bothered assigning McCoy personal space to begin with.
The living space for the Enterprise’s Chief Medical Officer was supposed to be somewhat luxurious by military standards. It was one of the few perks of the job. Bones’ quarters, on the other hand, was not. It was really just one big room, much like the studio apartments of the 20th and 21st centuries, sans kitchen. A bed sat along the far wall and bathroom off to the left. Situated against the opposite wall was a desk, the surface of which littered with PADDs. Bookcases and a small closet sat near the bed, but the space felt figuratively cold and somewhat unwelcoming. As Kirk’s eyes bounced from wall to wall, he noticed a conspicuous absence of most personal touches most crew members often brought to remind them of home. Kirk made a mental note to talk to Bones about that.
Jim walked stealthily into the room, careful to keep the lights off. He cocked his head to the side, listening for the sound of the only reason the doctor used his quarters: his real, honest to goodness running water shower. Kirk always wondered who or what entity McCoy blackmailed in order to have a real shower installed in the CMOs quarters aboard a starship. In the years that they had served together, the Captain’s friend and ship’s doctor had been rather tight lipped on the subject. It wasn’t that McCoy didn’t deserve it, but it was a bit out of place.
Jim shook his head. He was here on business, and he was listening for the shower or for Bones’ annoyingly loud snoring. The latter was an embarrassing habit the doctor vehemently denied, though Kirk had first hand knowledge to refute his friend. When no obnoxiously heinous noise could be heard from the bed, Jim crept toward the bathroom. The light was on and the door closed, signifying Bones’ presence inside. A few seconds later, Kirk heard the shower snap off. Since waiting was never really his forte, the Captain settled himself comfortably down on McCoy’s bed to wait.
Bones walked out of the bathroom in nothing but his underwear, a towel slung around his broad shoulders. For a man who took very little time to care for himself, McCoy cut an impressive figure. Kirk always figured Bones stayed in shape by hauling around unruly patients by their species-specific ear and then tossing them onto the biobeds all day long. The Captain smirked at the thought as McCoy rubbed at his hair to dry it, the latter still oblivious to his Captain parked casually on his bed.
“Lights. Fifty percent,” the doctor barked as he exited his bathroom. The lights came up, and in one smooth motion, Bones tossed the used towel on his bed. Kirk instinctively reached out to catch the flying piece of cloth as it sailed toward his head. When the bed moved, McCoy jumped back, cursing loudly. “Dammit, man! What the hell? That’s the second time today! Are you purposely trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Hiya, Bones,” Kirk was stretched out on his back, his feet crossed at the ankles, arms behind his head, and his head pillowed on his forearms.
“Jim.” McCoy growled. He was most decidedly not in the mood for Kirk’s games tonight, and the Cheshire cat smirk plastered all over Jim’s face was also not helping matters in the slightest bit. “How the hell did you get into my quarters? That lock was supposed to be--”
“Yeah. We need to have a little chat about that. See, I tried my override code and nothing happened. So I tried it again and it still didn’t work. That’s a problem because I’m supposed to be able to access any room in the ship with that code. You know, being the Captain and all.” Kirk propped himself up on one elbow and looked his friend in the eye. “What did you do, Bones?”
McCoy, avoiding Jim’s question, walked over and pushed Kirk’s legs off his bed. Growling, he said, “Get your damned shoes off my bed. They’re full of dirt from Venga III.”
“You’re sidestepping me. What did you do? And who helped you? I know you can’t do that reprogramming all by yourself.” Jim raised an eyebrow. “And would it kill you to put on some clothes?”
McCoy rolled his eyes. “You’ve seen far worse than this, Jim. Do you remember that you were my roommate at the Academy? The ratio to what you saw from me compared to what I had to endure from you is off the charts unfair. I can assure you those are three years I will never forget. I’ve seen more of you than my brain should have to handle, and that doesn’t count the times I’ve acted as your doctor!”
Kirk laughed, knowing exactly what the doctor meant. Jim was a hellion, and back at the Academy, a bit of player. He fully admitted that. McCoy, on the other hand, was a completely different story; though on the rare occasions Bones cut loose, he did it up good and proper. “Right. And you were the poster child for sobriety and good behavior. Do I need to remind you of the time you challenged me to the Power Hour and then lost the bet--”
McCoy held up his hand to forestall the story he knew was coming. No, he did not need Jim Kirk rehashing quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of his life, and that included his childhood, time in college, med school and during his divorce. Combined. Apparently, trying to go shot for shot at Starfleet Academy with cadets half his age had been a very, very bad idea. Though Bones had no memory of the alleged incident, Kirk had pictures and video to prove that an incredibly inebriated McCoy had indeed stripped naked and streaked through campus on Jim’s dare. His literal hide had only been spared because Pike, the reigning Czar of Discipline of Starfleet Academy at the time, thought it was so uncharacteristically hilarious for the straight-laced doctor to cause such a ruckus, he’d been unable to punish McCoy properly. The Captain had instead sent McCoy away with nothing but a severely bruised ego and a figurative slap on the wrist. Damn Kirk for never letting him forget that.
“No, Jim you do not need to remind me that. And just drop the door thing, okay? It won’t happen again.” Truth be told, the doctor only wanted the change the subject because he didn’t want to have to implicate Chekov as his helper. Kirk was right - there wasn’t any way Bones could hack the system and alter it on his own. Turning, McCoy muttered, “What’s the point of door locks when the Captain just breaks in anyway? ‘Private quarters’ my ass!”
“They’re private enough, Bones.”
McCoy shot Kirk a glare as he stuffed one leg into a pair of loose fitting pajama-type pants. “Says the criminal,” Bones cut himself off dramatically. “Oh, I’m sorry. I mean to say, ‘Says the Captain’.”
Jim barked a laugh, the sound rich and reverberating off the walls.
“Now, what’s the point of this, or are you just here to irritate me because you think it’s a sport?” McCoy crossed his arms over his chest, a black shirt similar to Kirk’s own dangling from his fingertips.
Jim hopped up off McCoy’s bed. “Nope. I’m here on business.”
The doctor’s head poked through the top of his shirt. Frowning, he drawled, “Oh, really. Forgive me if I don’t believe that.” He motioned for Kirk to move to the tiny living area, situated near the door.
The captain settled himself in one of Bones’ oversized arm chairs while McCoy padded over to the liquor cabinet, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet. Bones set two tumblers on the table and poured some whiskey into them. Kirk raised a questioning eyebrow.
“After today, I think I deserve a drink,” Bones grumbled, splashing three fingers’ worth of the amber liquid into each glass. He handed one to Kirk.
“I thought you quit that shit,” Kirk replied. Picking up the glass, he sipped it and amended, “Not that I’m complaining, mind you. This is good, Bones. Where’d you get it?”
“I’m taking the Fifth on this one. The less you know, the better off you’ll be,” McCoy muttered.
“Right. Plausible deniability. I like it.”
Bones grunted. “Now, what the hell is it you’ve come to pester me for? Haven’t you gotten enough entertainment at my expense for one day?”
“Well first, I wanted to ask you what you thought about the samples we’re carting back to Earth,” Kirk asked.
“You mean that container of death and dismay we picked up from Starbase 87, the one now locked safely in my office?” McCoy asked.
“I don’t think I’d put it so much like that, but yeah. That one.”
McCoy scoffed hard. “Damned foolish if you ask me. We’re out in the black in a pressurized tin can. One leak in that casing - that’s all it would take and all of us would die, slowly and painfully. And there wouldn’t be a thing I could do.”
“Tell me again, what exactly are they?” Kirk asked seriously. He wasn’t sure if McCoy was talking about the container for the samples or the ship itself. Though Bones always had a flair for the dramatic, the look in his eyes told Kirk that the surgeon was genuinely concerned about the latest batch of Federation property being ferried around by the starship. McCoy was never very good at keeping his emotions from his face, most particularly his eyes, and it was one of the doctor’s tells Jim was glad to be able to read.
Bones ran a hand through his still-wet hair. “They’re cryogenically frozen, inactive virus and poison samples from old, 20th and 21st century Earth diseases. During their time, Ebola, malaria, tuberculosis, H1N1, ricin - they were all fatal in varying degrees. With the exception of ricin, which is a poison, all the samples are contagious diseases that caused a pandemic at some point in history. Ricin’s fatal dose is about half the size of a grain of sand.”
Kirk furrowed his brows. “So they’re all old diseases. It sounds like the only thing we really have to be concerned about is the ricin. And besides, they’re inactive.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong, Jim. Ricin scares me because there’s still no cure for it, but the other diseases flat-out terrify me. One of them, let alone the group, could literally wipe out this entire ship. We haven’t seen diseases like those in over 200 years, so none of us are going to have any kind of immunity to them. Ebola’s a hemorrhagic fever. It’ll liquefy your body from the inside out. Malaria, TB and H1N1 could all cripple this ship with how many sick, feverish, vomiting, coughing and downright miserable people we’ll have. That’s if we’re lucky. People would die if it got loose.”
Jim repeated himself. “But, you said they’re inactive. How could anyone be infected if the virus is dead?”
“I don’t trust the work of someone else. And, since I’m not about to open the Box of Black Plague on a starship with recycled air, I’m working under the assumption that the viruses are living. Call me paranoid, Jim, but I want to be safe.”
Kirk laughed. “You’re paranoid, Bones.”
McCoy nodded.
“So, let’s just say for a minute that these viruses are actually living. What’s the treatment regimen?”
“Standard treatment of those diseases back in the 20th and 21st centuries was a healthy dose of antibiotics and to let the disease either run its course or hope for it to go into remission. Most of all, people used to just cross their fingers and pray,” McCoy answered. “It’s not much of a cure, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Abnormally silent, Jim processed all the information. “And if it gets loose?”
“We lock down the ship, and try to contain it. Unfortunately, they’re all airborne in transmission, so there’s not much hope to keep it from making its way though the ventilation system. And there’s not much I could do, because I don’t have any of the anti-vaccines on board. I’d have to manufacture them, and then I don’t know how the crew would react to it.”
“So, we’d better make sure nothing gets out. You said it’s locked up in your office, right?”
McCoy took a sip of his drink. “Yeah. Tucked away in my safe. Only people who can open it are you, me, Chapel and M’Benga.”
“Good. Be sure it stays there, Doctor,” Kirk replied, satisfied with the explanation.
“Oh, you don’t need to tell me twice. I don’t need that shit floating around this tin can,” McCoy amended. Kirk chucked as heard Bones mumble something about, ‘Disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.’
“Bones, you signed up for Starfleet. I didn’t make you. And I specifically remember reminding you on that shuttle that we operate in space,” Kirk taunted. “You could have backed out then.”
Mumbling some more curses under his breath, Bones deftly side-stepped Jim’s line of question with, “I still don’t know why we have to take it back anyway.”
Kirk clapped his friend on the back. “Because Starfleet says so. I might be in charge of this, ‘pressurized tin can,’ but I still do what the Admiralty says, much as I may dislike them.”
The two men sat and drank in silence for a few minutes, neither one minding the quiet that permeated the room. Finally, McCoy turned his head to address Kirk. “I know you didn’t break into my personal quarters just to ask me about the virus samples. What do you really want, Jim?”
“Your powers of observation are improving, Bones,” Jim gently kidded.
“My, ‘powers of observation’ tell me that you’re here right now to be a pain in my ass, Kid,” Bones shot back.
“That’s my purpose in life. It’s the side duty I signed up for, and the one Pike gave me. It’s a rough job, but someone has to do it.” Jim snarked back. Pausing, he asked, “No, Bones. In all reality, I need a favor from you.”
McCoy scoffed, placing one hand dramatically over his chest. “Oh? From me? The great James Tiberius Kirk needs something from his lowly, long-suffering CMO?”
“Quit being such a drama queen, Bones, and just shut up and listen,” Jim scolded. “God. I swear you’re worse than my sister!”
“You don’t have a sister,” McCoy retorted.
“Exactly my point.”
“Touché.” McCoy took a sip of his drink and leaned back into the cushions of the couch. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. It hit the backrest with a light ‘thump.’ Without opening his eyes, McCoy sighed, “All right, Jim. I’ll bite, though lord knows I shouldn’t. What do you want?”
Kirk set his drink down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I told Ratchet that I would allow him to stay on the ship and that we’d help him find his species, if they still exist.”
“Isn’t that our job?” McCoy asked, cracking one eye open.
“Yeah it is, but this guy has both Spock and me a little concerned. He’s huge, he’s strong and he’s got a hell of a lot of knowledge about humanity we can’t seem to corroborate.”
“How so?”
“Well, if you’d stuck around instead of having a man-fit, you might already know,” Kirk shot back, unable to resist the small barb directed at the doctor.
McCoy picked his head up off the couch and shot his friend a look specifically saying, ‘Don’t go there,’ over the rim of his glass.
Kirk put his hands up in a friendly gesture of surrender. “All right! Put down the figurative hyposprays and relax, Bones. Basically, Ratchet gave us a little different version of what happened a couple hundred years ago. I gotta admit his version makes a lot more sense, given what he is.”
“And what, exactly, is he?” McCoy asked. “Because I would really like to know.”
Kirk launched into the story Ratchet had shown him and Spock, complete with all the missing details about Megatron, Mission City, The Fallen, Egypt and the U.S. Government’s involvement with the cover-up. Throughout the story, McCoy said nothing, instead settling for grunts in the appropriate places.
When Jim finished, Bones still wasn’t convinced. “So you meet one strange alien who tells you a fancy story about what he supposedly lived through, and you throw away all properly recorded history on a whim?”
“No. That’s what I’m saying.” Kirk shook his head. “I’m not just disregarding everything I knew about our past, but I can’t discount what Ratchet’s saying as untrue, either.”
McCoy leaned back on the couch and propped one foot up on the coffee table, internalizing a sigh. He knew that look on Kirk’s face too well. It was the one the captain usually wore when he was thinking too hard about something that didn’t really concern him in the first place. Tentatively, Bones asked, “What is it, exactly, that you’re suggesting?”
‘Here goes nothing,’ Jim thought. Trying to be as casual as possible, Kirk said, “I had to come up with a happy medium. You know Grankowski would have my balls if I let Ratchet wander around unchecked, but on the other hand, I can’t treat him like a prisoner, either. He’s done nothing to warrant it. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Like he’d fit anywhere,” Bones muttered, pouring himself and Kirk another drink.
“Besides that very obvious point,” Kirk started, “I don’t know how we’d check him out, and we don’t know anything about him or his species. There’s nothing in the Federation databases, and no one has even heard of any type of creatures. So, Spock and I came to the conclusion that he needs to have a liaison with him at all times. It had to be someone I trust, and someone who he could deal with on a personal level.”
The wheels in McCoy’s head began to turn, the doctor’s brain slamming on the proverbial brakes when he put two and two together. Nearly spitting the outrageously expensive bourbon all over the room, Bones sputtered, “Me? You mean me? Oh, hell no, Jim! I’m a doctor, not a politician. There is no way I’m going to waste my time babysitting a giant alien robot so he can try to comm home!”
The Captain smirked. “Why not? What’s so bad about it? You’re both doctors, you do the same things, and I think you could learn from him. Didn’t you just say we’re supposed to help out when we can?”
“Yes, but that’s not---”
Kirk cut McCoy off before he could finish his thought. “Good. It’s settled.”
McCoy was incredulous. “The hell it is! No, Jim, and I will say it until my voice is gone. No, I will not. Just…NO!”
“Why not, Bones? You’re always complaining that you don’t get out of your medical bay enough. Now, here I am, giving you the opportunity, and you’re acting like a child about it,” Kirk replied.
Bones rubbed his tired eyes with the pads of his fingers. Kirk was right. “I know that, Jim. I just don’t think I’m the right man for the job. I can’t do it, not without wanting to kill him,” McCoy admitted aloud. To himself, he acknowledged that maybe he and Ratchet were too similar to be in that close of proximity to each other for any extended period of time. The ship wasn’t big enough for that.
Jim sat up, his face relaxed and smiling but his eyes dead serious. He’d heard what he needed, and now it was time to be the Captain, not McCoy’s best friend. “Yes, you will. You don’t have to like it, but you will do it, Doctor.”
McCoy put his hands on his hips and hung his head. He knew that ‘Captain’ tone when he heard it. Jim was one short step from ordering him to do it, and McCoy didn’t really want to have to force his friend’s hand like that. Bones chewed lightly on his bottom lip, a habit Kirk long recognized as one that signaled irritation from the doctor. He sighed and then looked up. “All right. I’ll do it. But I swear to you the moment that giant tin can tries something funny with me, I’ll weld his tailpipe shut!”
“You don’t even know how to use the welder, Bones,” Kirk, smirking, reminded his friend.
McCoy took a gulp of bourbon. Staring straight ahead, McCoy was deadpanned. “I’ll learn. That talking piece of metal will be a great training tool.”
Kirk internally laughed. McCoy was so amusing when he was pissed, which happened to be often. At the present moment, the doctor reminded the captain of an angry porcupine, his hair sticking up in all directions, his face slightly puffy and red and breathing harder than normal. But, as funny as McCoy could be, actually dealing with his moods presented an entirely different challenge. Sighing, Kirk said, “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Absolutely not!” came the doctor’s vehement reply.
The captain rolled his eyes. Some days, Jim wished he’d been assigned a different, significantly less annoying roommate at the Academy. Looking at McCoy literally pouting on the couch next to him, Kirk was also certain that more often than not, the feeling was completely mutual. “Bones, I mean it. You can’t just ignore him, and you can’t use him as experiment, either. If you try, I’ll let Ratchet teach you ancient human football and let him use you as the ball. I guarantee that a good portion of this ship’s company, you know the ninety percent that thinks you’re the devil incarnate, will appreciate it. Who knows? I might even sell tickets.”
McCoy responded by cursing liberally and muttering under his breath about daredevil commanders barely old enough to be out of diapers. It was a comment that Kirk pretended not to hear.
“Well, I’m off.” Jim knocked back the dregs of his glass and set it on the table. Hopping to his feet, he walked to the door. As he reached the threshold, he looked back at the doctor. “Promise me you’ll at least make an effort to get along with Ratchet before you try and turn his exhaust inside out?”
McCoy gave Kirk a non-committal grunt of understanding. “I’ll try,” he mumbled.
Kirk nodded. “That’s all I can ask. G’night, Bones.”
“Goodnight, you pain in my ass,” McCoy answered to Kirk’s retreated back. When Kirk hovered in the doorway, McCoy tossed out, “Now are you going to leave, or do you plan on haunting my quarters all evening?”
Jim waved a hand in the air. “All right, all right. I’m going. Keep you pants on, Bones. You scare my crew enough as it is.”
With the proverbial parting shot across the bow, Kirk took off. The temporary bright light from the hallway disappeared, once again bathing the room in semi-darkness. McCoy slammed the remains of his drink and poured himself a third. If he was going to have a conversation tonight with a certain Federation guest, he thought maybe a little inhibition killer would be just the thing to help him through it.
The doctor grabbed the two used glasses and the bottle of bourbon from the table. He deposited the glasses in the proper receptacle and stowed the alcohol in its original and safe spot. The CMO stood in the middle of his quarters contemplating his next move. Exhaling harshly, McCoy ran one hand through his hair.
Looking up, Bones barked, “Computer! Location of that…thing we brought on board earlier.”
“More specifics are required. Please restate your inquiry.”
McCoy scowled and tried again. “Location of the universe’s biggest pain in my ass!”
“Invalid entry. Please restate your inquiry.”
“Dammit, I don’t want to ‘restate my inquiry.’ Just tell me where the hell Ratchet is!”
“Federation guest Ratchet is presently located in the cargo bay three.”
“Useless piece of space junk.” McCoy muttered, though his double entendre was clear. He grabbed his communicator, jammed his feet in a pair of boots and exited his quarters.
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Next Up: McCoy and Ratchet go toe to toe, and Scotty finally meets the giant fighting robot.
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Click here for chapter 1
Click here for chapter 2
Click here for chapter 3
Click here for chapter 4
Click here for chapter 5
Click here for chapter 6