(Untitled)

[notabricklayer]

((OOM: Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. Except when there is some really horrible singing))

The door slides open with a muted whoosh, and one man in blue scrubs stumbles through, scrubbing at his face, hypospray hanging loosely from his other hand

Comments

[pattersongs]

"Surprised?" asks the ruddy-skinned fellow with the large dark eyes and the forehead marking. Head formation included, he's of a respectable height for a human. Even though he's obviously not. "Look as if this place caught you unawares. Suggest deep breaths, counting to five."

Even if he left all the words in his sentences he'd sound like a hyperactive hamster. Without them, the hamster is on coffee.

[notabricklayer]

McCoy blinks, and thinks about it. Is he very likely to hallucinate an alien species he's never met before?

...

No, not really, it's not much in his line (nor is xenophobia in his psychiatric profile, despite what some may think based on his long-standing squabbles with Spock).

"Just caught a bit flat-footed." He explains, sort-of. He's fairly sure this whole mess back on board ship will be classified as soon as the higher-ups hear about it.

[pattersongs]

Mordin nods. "Happens to the best of us," he says. "Apologies for intruding. Still awfully new to the place. Hate to see unnecessary distress in action if something can be done about it."

[notabricklayer]

"Well, it's appreciated, anyway. It's been that sort of day." Their world almost just ended to the tune of 'Take Me Home Again Kathleen' sung very badly - after that, he's willing to be happy about quite a lot.

[works_in_space]

It had to happen eventually.

Jim heard that whoosh - an exact sound he hasn't heard in some time - and looked up from his datapad and coffee.

To see a face he knows very well. Correction. A face he knew very well.

"Bones...you're so...young."

[notabricklayer]

It's that which decides him, actually - there's a Jim Kirk on the Enterprise, but so long as he's been here, he's never met a Jim Kirk in the bar.

Physician, heal thyself. Or, in this case, stab thyself with a hypospray.

And damn but that stuff stings.

"You're still here." He informs the hallucination-that-looks-like-Jim-but-not, unhappily, a minute later. "No one else reported residual hallucinations."

[works_in_space]

"Hallucinations...care to report, Bones?" He has to be careful what he says, of course, but that's no obstacle to learning more precisely when Bones is from.

[notabricklayer]

They're all (much to McCoy's utter disgust and disgruntlement at the time) given a lecture on the basics of time travel and What To Do If You Get Mixed Up In It.

He's fairly sure there wasn't one sentence about bars at the end of universes.

Still, Jim-boy looks older (is that encouraging? Is that just plain disturbing?) so... he probably won't cause any universe-ending paradoxes if he opens his mouth once too often. Good. He hasn't the energy to worry about it.

"Psi 2000 ring any bells?"

[ol_yellow_eyes]

Data is surprised to see the person who comes through the door. This is indicated only by a slight raise of his eyebrows.

"Doctor McCoy?" he asks, getting up from his nearby table. "You seem disoriented. Is something wrong?"

[OOC: Okay if I tag? :3 *bounces in chair*]

[notabricklayer]

He's in a StarFleet uniform, but not one he's ever seen before. The colors are right, the emblem is right, the pattern is all wrong. And the eyes... either this fellow is some humanoid-esque species, or this is the worst case of jaundice he's had the misfortune to stumble across.

All in all, taking the hypospray might not be a bad idea.

"You know my name, how?" Sure, he's CMO on the Enterprise, but it's Kirk who's face gets plastered all over the newsvids, and frankly, he likes it that way.

[ol_yellow_eyes]

By this point, Data has decided that he is willing to tell Dr. McCoy anything that he has told Captain Kirk. Going that far would be a little risky, perhaps, but Data is willing to take that risk for the sake of conversation. (Is that selfishness?)

"I have studied you," Data explains, simply. "You are in Starfleet historical records-- I am from the 24th century."

He offers his hand. "Lieutenant Commander Data: Second Officer, U.S.S. Enterprise-D."

[notabricklayer]

Twenty-fourth century. Good God. There's still a StarFleet that far out?

There's still an Enterprise that far out?

"Well." He blinks as he wraps his (somewhat battered, at this point in time) brain around that particular bit of information. "Isn't that something? I don't suppose I actually manage to live to retirement."

After days like today, he wonders.

[docscurlock]

"...Doc?"

It doesn't sound all that odd, the familiar name leaving his own mouth.

Josiah is sitting at a table near the front door, but stands when McCoy stumbles into the room. He looks a little disoriented. Possibly injured. And while he's nowhere near as talented as the older gentleman is, he still knows the basics.

[ooc: tag? y/y? :D?]

[notabricklayer]

McCoy's eyes narrow as he takes in the scene. The real problem is he never developed signs of infection while on-board ship... well, no, that's not a problem, if he'd gone down, there wouldn't have been anyone left on the medical crew sane enough to rescue the rest of the ship.

But he really doesn't know what it's like on the experience side. He can guess, but he doesn't know.

On the other hand, he has experienced this place before, without the help of any mutating water molecules.

And yes, while he's sorting all this out, the silence has gotten a little awkward.

"Of course now I wish I'd made sure to figure out the LD50 of this stuff." He mutters to himself, eying the hypospray.

(OOC: Yes! I've been trying to find the first Doc-Doc thread to make sure I'm not repeating things... but of course I fail at hitting the memory button. Do you happen to have it linked?)

[docscurlock]

The silence has gotten more than a little awkward.

Which is why Doc carefully eyes the surrounding patrons -- making sure that if Bones suddenly snaps and goes crazy, there will be enough time to get between him and the nearest target.

Of course, with that...thing...in Bones' hand, which may very well be a future weapon of mass destruction...

...he's going to pray that doesn't happen.

"At least you'll have the time in here?"

[ooc: I cannot find it either. It's not tagged under EITHER of their tags. How odd...]

[notabricklayer]

It is a weapon of mass destruction!

Well, it's a weapon anyway, in McCoy's hands, and he uses it against the masses.

Usually to knock them out so he can put their fool selves back together again, but still.

And he can't quite decide if he is more or less likely to hallucinate this place, rather than something else. He would have hoped he'd have the good sense to hallucinate something like a few gorgeous Southern Belles who were happy to see him, but alas, that doesn't seem to be happening.

"If I'm wrong," He tells the hallucination who might not be a hallucination and might just be Doc, "Tell whoever decides to rescue me to put on some goddam gloves."

And yes, he decides as he gives himself a dose of the serum, this stuff stings like hell.