Seascape Part 3 (R for language) Star Trek Bigbang
“No! We can fight them!” Well, the kid had spirit, McCoy thought as the gun traveled through the air, maybe a little too much.
“Listen, kid, if they’re going to get me anyway, why not save all the lives that would be wasted resisting.” He reasoned.
“They’re not going to get you.” The boy said.
“I think they are.” He replied cautiously.
“I would kill you,” the boy said, the gun suddenly settling and leveling out, “before I let them get what they want.” McCoy stood for a moment unsure of the right thing to say.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“They’re pirates! They don’t deserve anyone’s help! They can all rot in hell!” the boy yelled, hopefully someone would hear him.
“So I have to die? Honestly, that doesn’t seem fair.” McCoy continued, trying to buy time. All of his belongings were already in his bags and there was nothing in the room he could use as a weapon. The kid might be young but he was still in the Navy and he had a gun. McCoy only had words and time.
And apparently luck was on his side this time. The Asian pirate silently emerged into view behind the young crewman in the doorway. He didn’t look ill any more, apart from the blood shot eyes. His expression was murderous determination.
McCoy remained frozen but he said, “Don’t hurt him too badly.”
The Asian man gave no sign of having heard him but the kid practically exploded. His face twisted and turned red and he yelled, “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? You don’t care do you? You want to go with them! You’re just as bad as they are!”
Then he fell unconscious to the deck after having the gun snatched from his grasp and his head slammed into the door lintel.
McCoy immediately fell to his knees next to the boy checking his pulse and the dilation of his pupils. It seemed that the young man would be all right in the long run if he weren’t discharged for mutiny or something like that. Who even knew what Navy discipline was like? Satisfied that the boy would live to have a hell of a headache when he awoke, McCoy glanced up at his surprise savior.
The Asian man extended a hand to him where he knelt.
He took it and said, “I told you not to hurt him too badly.”
To his surprise the pirate grinned and said, “Could have been worse.” And he grabs the larger of McCoy’s bags and starts walking.
“We’re just going to leave him here?” McCoy yells after him, indignant.
The pirate turns and shrugs, “He’s not doing anything. Besides, we’re in a hurry.”
McCoy snorts and gathers the rest of his things quickly absolutely unwilling to admit to himself that he doesn’t want to be out of sight of the pirate after what’s just happened. He’s never been threatened before, well, not seriously and he finds himself…shaken, even more so that it would be a pirate who saved his life.
Things had once more degenerated into an atmosphere of hypertension, both parties concerned with the possibility of conflict. Jim was most worried about the doctor, not necessarily his physical well being, Sulu would be perfectly able to guarantee that, but his mental state. If the doctor got spooked and they were forced to take him against his will, well firstly a kidnapping would probably incite an attack from the Navy where a volunteer victim wouldn’t and secondly they might lose the doctor’s good will.
However as Sulu and the doctor emerged from below neither looked the worse for wear. Captain Smith did not seem to share Jim’s relief.
“And my man? What about him?” the man demanded.
Sulu opened his mouth to reply and Jim prepared to diffuse a possible situation, but the doctor beat them both.
“He’s fine, Captain. Boy was just a little overzealous. He’s unconscious but I checked him over and he’ll be perfectly all right.”
Smith nodded stiffly and turned to Kirk, “If you’ve concluded your business I would thank you to kindly get off my ship now.”
Sulu had already led the doctor to his side so in response Kirk began to back towards the Enterprise, his crew catching the hint and preceding him across the gangplank, escorting the doctor across first.
Kirk gave the Captain a snappy salute as he had been taught and said, “You are kindly welcome.” And he climbed up to the gangplank and stood for a moment before crossing, “May your sails be filled with fair winds and may your ship carry you safely home. Farewell.” And he gave a half bow and departed.
When he reached the Enterprise he leapt nimbly off the gangplank. The crew was already in an uproar at the appearance of the doctor who seemed to be quite overwhelmed.
“Spock, let’s break off from the Farragut and start making way.”
Spock, who had been involved in a rather intense staring contest with the doctor turned and nodded sharply as Sulu went to take the helm, slapping the doctor’s shoulder as he went.
Meanwhile Kirk approached the doctor with an open smile and non-threatening body language, treating him as a frightened animal. The doctor paid him no particular attention, merely watching as preparations to sail were made. Jim got the feeling that the good doctor was analyzing and processing everything he saw, looking for weaknesses he could exploit. McCoy, it seemed, was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and would be better approached as a predator than as prey.
“So, what happened down there?” Jim asked, nodding his head to the Farragut just as they began to break away.
“Kid wanted to save me from you and keep me from helping you at the same time. Turns out he willing to kill me to do it.” McCoy explained.
“That…” Jim started, “doesn’t really make any sense.”
“Does if you think all pirates are scum and anyone who helps them is going to hell. Suppose he thought me a bit of a traitor for volunteering.” The doctor said with a shrug as Spock approached.
“Oh, Spock,” Jim said, putting a guiding hand on McCoy’s arm and pushing him to face the slender man. The doctor clearly flinched although, whether that was because of him or Spock, who seemed to unnerve the doctor, he wasn’t sure, “This is Doctor Leonard McCoy.”
Spock gave a slow nod.
“Spock is my first mate.”
McCoy also nodded, taking in every facet of Spock’s appearance and expression. Well Dr. McCoy was sharp, if nothing else.
McCoy, once satisfied with his observations, turned to Jim and said, “I believe I have a patient to see, Captain.”
Spock’s eyebrow rose, “Your enthusiasm is comforting.”
McCoy fixed him with a glare that would melt rocks. Jim was just enjoying the show. Not many people stood up to Spock.
“Right well I don’t know what you’d do to me if he died.” McCoy growled.
Spock gave Jim a heavy glance Jim nodded and once again took the doctor’s arm , leading him towards the bulkhead.
“Dr. McCoy,” he said keeping his grip light, “I want you to try to understand. You are our guest. No one is going to hurt or harass you or else they will answer to me and I employ swift justice. On this ship you are safe.”
McCoy glanced at Spock, then back at Jim with an expression that said, “I’ll believe it when I see it” and preceded them both into the depths of the Enterprise.
Spock and he exchanged a surprised look. Jim grinned. This doctor was beginning to grow on him and they did need a doctor full time. Spock gave him a questioning look but they were both startled when McCoy yelled, “Are you coming? I can’t just sniff out a sick person you know.”
Jim’s grin widened, “I like him.” He said to Spock before sliding down the ladder to the decks below.
When McCoy got to the sick room he was a little surprised by how well stocked the room was. It had clearly been converted to infirmary full time.
“What’s his name?” he asked as he approached the young man who lay delirious on a low cot his head covered in orange curls and another shorter man with dark hair sitting in a chair at his bedside. The man immediately stood.
“You’ve found a doctor! Thank God! I knew you would, sir.” He said with a clear brogue. McCoy, after a brief flash of surprise at the man’s heritage (he was a long way away from Scotland) he just waited for the answer to his question.
“Ah, sorry, doctor. The lad is Chekov, Pavel Andreiovich and I’m Montgomery Scotty, but everyone calls me Scotty. It’s verra good to meet you, doctor.” The man said gripping his hand in an enthusiastic handshake.
“Leonard McCoy” he replied using the handshake as leverage to switch places with the Scotsman in order to get to his patient.
“Now, what can you tell me about Mr. Chekov?” he asked.
“Well it started out as what you might call a general cold. We weren’na too worried but eventually it got worse. He was exhausted all the time, faint too.”
McCoy was already busy taking the boy’s pulse and his temperature, but he was clearly listening intently Jim was pleased to see.
“He’s had chills suddenly and then he’s so fevered he’s shakin’.”
McCoy checked the boy’s eyes and listened to his breathing, “Has he convulsed at all?”
“Convulsed, sir?” the man repeated.
“Like a seizure, all tensed up and twitching.” McCoy explained. The man went very quiet and McCoy had his answer, although Kirk spoke up from the shadows to confirm, “Yes, he’s had two seizures, minor ones.”
McCoy nodded with a suspicious glance, probably at the fact that Kirk had specified minor, but he was already shifting blankets and lifting up the boy’s shirt. He felt around the left side of his chest, just under the pectorals, probing gently.
He sat back, apparently satisfied and began rummaging through his bag, laying a few things on a nearby table. Jim coughed and McCoy glanced up and replied as he went back to rummaging.
“That’s all I need from you for now, so get out of my infirmary and let me work.”
“Your…” Kirk spluttered in indignant shock as Scotty tugged him out of the room.
“Did you hear what…his infirmary!” Kirk continued as they exited.
McCoy shook his head and smiled grimly as he set to work. First thing: reduce the fever and ply with liquids.
Sulu was the first to notice the doctor’s presence on deck. Jim could see his knuckles going white on the polished wood of the helm. Jim slipped up next to him and gently took over. Sulu gave a look of profound gratitude before striding towards the doctor. It was a wordless exchange that spoke to just how well the crew knew each other.
The doctor merely nodded at Sulu and his headlong approach and remained on course towards Jim.
Jim caught the last of the conversation, as they grew nearer.
“You been anywhere warmer than you usually are, recently? Someplace with a lot of bugs?” the doctor was asking.
“Yes. We were thrown off course and ended up in Northern Africa.” Sulu replied, still obviously on tenterhooks when they reached Kirk. The doctor obviously couldn’t take the hint that Sulu was worried about his friend.
“Captain Kirk.” The doctor acknowledged.
“Dr. McCoy.” He replied.
“Your man has malaria.” There was silence as they processed that news. Malaria was curable, but it could also easily be deadly, “I don’t know yet if he’ll live,” and Kirk could feel the whole crew listening and being crushed in one instance, “but he has a chance.” The doctor continued. “I want you to understand that even if we do everything possible, at this point anything we do may still be too late, but I’m sure as hell not letting go without a fight. He’ll need constant care and I’ll need help. That means at all times, one of your men whose duty is solely to aid me, fair?”
“Of course, Dr. McCoy. You’ll have everything you require.” Jim replied hollowly as McCoy spun to return to his patient. He turned back, however, at Jim’s tone.
“There is hope, you know. Boy’s young and strong. Chances are he’ll pull through.” He offered.
“Thank you, doctor.” Jim replied.
The boy was in bad shape that was for damn sure, but he was a fighter and he wasn’t giving up. The days went by in blurs for McCoy. Some of the crew brought food to him. Different men were his nurses on different days. When he could afford to, which wasn’t often, he slept on an adjacent cot in the infirmary. He gave the kid quinine at regular intervals and the rest of the time he was occupies with the fever, keeping it down, keeping him warm and under blankets, then bringing the fever down again. Keeping up his fluids was a constant challenge. It was hot, hard work involving mostly constant attention and punctuated with short bursts of panicked action. God knew this pirate was his only guarantee of safety.
It was five days after he arrived on the Enterprise that the boy first opened his eyes. He was completely out of his skull delirious, but he was awake. He mumbled sometimes, but it was mostly in Russian. It was three days after that that he finally became lucid, which was a week after he had arrived. It was a week and five days that McCoy finally declared the boy fit enough to return to his own bunk for rest. It was on that day that McCoy finally emerged from the infirmary for nearly the first time for the same interval.
He escorted the young pirate who was thanking him for all his work to his bunk. He wasn’t really listening-it took some concentration to hear through the accent. Once he had the kid deposited in his own bunk he wandered though the deck to the infirmary but when he got there he just couldn’t bring himself to cross the threshold. He held onto the door lintel and swayed a little. The days had gone by in such a blur- the ship was such a blurry place in general. He could hardly remember who the Captain was Kurd? Kirby? There was the Scottyish one named Scotty and the Asian one who hung around even when he wasn’t helping out and the ship! What was the ship called?
He leaned his head against the side of the door. It seemed rude not to know the name of the ship that was keeping you from drowning or being cast adrift. Very rude. Where were his manners?
“Dr. McCoy.” A deadpan voice called from down the hall. He looked up slowly. Not the Captain. He’d met this one though. Not one of his “nurses” either. He was pale, tall, slender, dark eyes, older than the kid, younger than McCoy.
“You…?” he started. The man frowned, although McCoy wasn’t even sure how he had distinguished the frown from his previous neutral expression.
“Doctor, you are exhausted.” The man said. McCoy stared a staggered forward to poke the man’s chest, right dead in the center. He missed but managed to catch the shoulder.
“You have a very…acute sensitivity…to the obvious.” He said. Huh, that sounded a lot less biting than his usual sarcasm.
The man’s frown deepened, “Doctor, you have been neglecting yourself. I understand that we made clear to you the importance of young Mr. Chekov’s health, but…”
“Yes, you did.” You made it quite clear to me…and don’t think I don’t know that I was only useful if he lived. If he died I know what you would’ve done!” McCoy staggered and the hallway seemed to twist. He was either sliding down the wall or the ceiling was going up. The man caught him before he hit the floor. Bastard. He would have happily passed out right then and there. What did the pirates care where he slept anyway?
“Come, doctor. I will bring you to the mess hall and then I will bring you to a room where you may sleep comfortably and undisturbed.” He said, the frown mostly apparent in his tone.
“What for?” the doctor slurred as his arm was slung over the man’s shoulder and he was half dragged down the hall, “You’re not cannibal pirates are you? Now, that would be just my luck.” He babbled on, “But that doesn’t make sense, cause then you wouldn’t need a doctor anyway. Unless you only eat outsiders and this is just a clever ruse.”
Then he was being gently lowered into a seat on a bench in front of a long table. He looked around and found himself in a rather large, open room, occupied only by tables and benches and a big looking man wielding a ladle in a somewhat threatening manner. No one else appeared to be in the room, except, of course, the man who had brought him here who approached the ladler. McCoy watched them speak rather absently. He couldn’t bring himself to show any interest and laid his head down upon the marvelous flat surface that had been so conveniently presented to him.
Part 4
“Listen, kid, if they’re going to get me anyway, why not save all the lives that would be wasted resisting.” He reasoned.
“They’re not going to get you.” The boy said.
“I think they are.” He replied cautiously.
“I would kill you,” the boy said, the gun suddenly settling and leveling out, “before I let them get what they want.” McCoy stood for a moment unsure of the right thing to say.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“They’re pirates! They don’t deserve anyone’s help! They can all rot in hell!” the boy yelled, hopefully someone would hear him.
“So I have to die? Honestly, that doesn’t seem fair.” McCoy continued, trying to buy time. All of his belongings were already in his bags and there was nothing in the room he could use as a weapon. The kid might be young but he was still in the Navy and he had a gun. McCoy only had words and time.
And apparently luck was on his side this time. The Asian pirate silently emerged into view behind the young crewman in the doorway. He didn’t look ill any more, apart from the blood shot eyes. His expression was murderous determination.
McCoy remained frozen but he said, “Don’t hurt him too badly.”
The Asian man gave no sign of having heard him but the kid practically exploded. His face twisted and turned red and he yelled, “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? You don’t care do you? You want to go with them! You’re just as bad as they are!”
Then he fell unconscious to the deck after having the gun snatched from his grasp and his head slammed into the door lintel.
McCoy immediately fell to his knees next to the boy checking his pulse and the dilation of his pupils. It seemed that the young man would be all right in the long run if he weren’t discharged for mutiny or something like that. Who even knew what Navy discipline was like? Satisfied that the boy would live to have a hell of a headache when he awoke, McCoy glanced up at his surprise savior.
The Asian man extended a hand to him where he knelt.
He took it and said, “I told you not to hurt him too badly.”
To his surprise the pirate grinned and said, “Could have been worse.” And he grabs the larger of McCoy’s bags and starts walking.
“We’re just going to leave him here?” McCoy yells after him, indignant.
The pirate turns and shrugs, “He’s not doing anything. Besides, we’re in a hurry.”
McCoy snorts and gathers the rest of his things quickly absolutely unwilling to admit to himself that he doesn’t want to be out of sight of the pirate after what’s just happened. He’s never been threatened before, well, not seriously and he finds himself…shaken, even more so that it would be a pirate who saved his life.
Things had once more degenerated into an atmosphere of hypertension, both parties concerned with the possibility of conflict. Jim was most worried about the doctor, not necessarily his physical well being, Sulu would be perfectly able to guarantee that, but his mental state. If the doctor got spooked and they were forced to take him against his will, well firstly a kidnapping would probably incite an attack from the Navy where a volunteer victim wouldn’t and secondly they might lose the doctor’s good will.
However as Sulu and the doctor emerged from below neither looked the worse for wear. Captain Smith did not seem to share Jim’s relief.
“And my man? What about him?” the man demanded.
Sulu opened his mouth to reply and Jim prepared to diffuse a possible situation, but the doctor beat them both.
“He’s fine, Captain. Boy was just a little overzealous. He’s unconscious but I checked him over and he’ll be perfectly all right.”
Smith nodded stiffly and turned to Kirk, “If you’ve concluded your business I would thank you to kindly get off my ship now.”
Sulu had already led the doctor to his side so in response Kirk began to back towards the Enterprise, his crew catching the hint and preceding him across the gangplank, escorting the doctor across first.
Kirk gave the Captain a snappy salute as he had been taught and said, “You are kindly welcome.” And he climbed up to the gangplank and stood for a moment before crossing, “May your sails be filled with fair winds and may your ship carry you safely home. Farewell.” And he gave a half bow and departed.
When he reached the Enterprise he leapt nimbly off the gangplank. The crew was already in an uproar at the appearance of the doctor who seemed to be quite overwhelmed.
“Spock, let’s break off from the Farragut and start making way.”
Spock, who had been involved in a rather intense staring contest with the doctor turned and nodded sharply as Sulu went to take the helm, slapping the doctor’s shoulder as he went.
Meanwhile Kirk approached the doctor with an open smile and non-threatening body language, treating him as a frightened animal. The doctor paid him no particular attention, merely watching as preparations to sail were made. Jim got the feeling that the good doctor was analyzing and processing everything he saw, looking for weaknesses he could exploit. McCoy, it seemed, was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and would be better approached as a predator than as prey.
“So, what happened down there?” Jim asked, nodding his head to the Farragut just as they began to break away.
“Kid wanted to save me from you and keep me from helping you at the same time. Turns out he willing to kill me to do it.” McCoy explained.
“That…” Jim started, “doesn’t really make any sense.”
“Does if you think all pirates are scum and anyone who helps them is going to hell. Suppose he thought me a bit of a traitor for volunteering.” The doctor said with a shrug as Spock approached.
“Oh, Spock,” Jim said, putting a guiding hand on McCoy’s arm and pushing him to face the slender man. The doctor clearly flinched although, whether that was because of him or Spock, who seemed to unnerve the doctor, he wasn’t sure, “This is Doctor Leonard McCoy.”
Spock gave a slow nod.
“Spock is my first mate.”
McCoy also nodded, taking in every facet of Spock’s appearance and expression. Well Dr. McCoy was sharp, if nothing else.
McCoy, once satisfied with his observations, turned to Jim and said, “I believe I have a patient to see, Captain.”
Spock’s eyebrow rose, “Your enthusiasm is comforting.”
McCoy fixed him with a glare that would melt rocks. Jim was just enjoying the show. Not many people stood up to Spock.
“Right well I don’t know what you’d do to me if he died.” McCoy growled.
Spock gave Jim a heavy glance Jim nodded and once again took the doctor’s arm , leading him towards the bulkhead.
“Dr. McCoy,” he said keeping his grip light, “I want you to try to understand. You are our guest. No one is going to hurt or harass you or else they will answer to me and I employ swift justice. On this ship you are safe.”
McCoy glanced at Spock, then back at Jim with an expression that said, “I’ll believe it when I see it” and preceded them both into the depths of the Enterprise.
Spock and he exchanged a surprised look. Jim grinned. This doctor was beginning to grow on him and they did need a doctor full time. Spock gave him a questioning look but they were both startled when McCoy yelled, “Are you coming? I can’t just sniff out a sick person you know.”
Jim’s grin widened, “I like him.” He said to Spock before sliding down the ladder to the decks below.
When McCoy got to the sick room he was a little surprised by how well stocked the room was. It had clearly been converted to infirmary full time.
“What’s his name?” he asked as he approached the young man who lay delirious on a low cot his head covered in orange curls and another shorter man with dark hair sitting in a chair at his bedside. The man immediately stood.
“You’ve found a doctor! Thank God! I knew you would, sir.” He said with a clear brogue. McCoy, after a brief flash of surprise at the man’s heritage (he was a long way away from Scotland) he just waited for the answer to his question.
“Ah, sorry, doctor. The lad is Chekov, Pavel Andreiovich and I’m Montgomery Scotty, but everyone calls me Scotty. It’s verra good to meet you, doctor.” The man said gripping his hand in an enthusiastic handshake.
“Leonard McCoy” he replied using the handshake as leverage to switch places with the Scotsman in order to get to his patient.
“Now, what can you tell me about Mr. Chekov?” he asked.
“Well it started out as what you might call a general cold. We weren’na too worried but eventually it got worse. He was exhausted all the time, faint too.”
McCoy was already busy taking the boy’s pulse and his temperature, but he was clearly listening intently Jim was pleased to see.
“He’s had chills suddenly and then he’s so fevered he’s shakin’.”
McCoy checked the boy’s eyes and listened to his breathing, “Has he convulsed at all?”
“Convulsed, sir?” the man repeated.
“Like a seizure, all tensed up and twitching.” McCoy explained. The man went very quiet and McCoy had his answer, although Kirk spoke up from the shadows to confirm, “Yes, he’s had two seizures, minor ones.”
McCoy nodded with a suspicious glance, probably at the fact that Kirk had specified minor, but he was already shifting blankets and lifting up the boy’s shirt. He felt around the left side of his chest, just under the pectorals, probing gently.
He sat back, apparently satisfied and began rummaging through his bag, laying a few things on a nearby table. Jim coughed and McCoy glanced up and replied as he went back to rummaging.
“That’s all I need from you for now, so get out of my infirmary and let me work.”
“Your…” Kirk spluttered in indignant shock as Scotty tugged him out of the room.
“Did you hear what…his infirmary!” Kirk continued as they exited.
McCoy shook his head and smiled grimly as he set to work. First thing: reduce the fever and ply with liquids.
Sulu was the first to notice the doctor’s presence on deck. Jim could see his knuckles going white on the polished wood of the helm. Jim slipped up next to him and gently took over. Sulu gave a look of profound gratitude before striding towards the doctor. It was a wordless exchange that spoke to just how well the crew knew each other.
The doctor merely nodded at Sulu and his headlong approach and remained on course towards Jim.
Jim caught the last of the conversation, as they grew nearer.
“You been anywhere warmer than you usually are, recently? Someplace with a lot of bugs?” the doctor was asking.
“Yes. We were thrown off course and ended up in Northern Africa.” Sulu replied, still obviously on tenterhooks when they reached Kirk. The doctor obviously couldn’t take the hint that Sulu was worried about his friend.
“Captain Kirk.” The doctor acknowledged.
“Dr. McCoy.” He replied.
“Your man has malaria.” There was silence as they processed that news. Malaria was curable, but it could also easily be deadly, “I don’t know yet if he’ll live,” and Kirk could feel the whole crew listening and being crushed in one instance, “but he has a chance.” The doctor continued. “I want you to understand that even if we do everything possible, at this point anything we do may still be too late, but I’m sure as hell not letting go without a fight. He’ll need constant care and I’ll need help. That means at all times, one of your men whose duty is solely to aid me, fair?”
“Of course, Dr. McCoy. You’ll have everything you require.” Jim replied hollowly as McCoy spun to return to his patient. He turned back, however, at Jim’s tone.
“There is hope, you know. Boy’s young and strong. Chances are he’ll pull through.” He offered.
“Thank you, doctor.” Jim replied.
The boy was in bad shape that was for damn sure, but he was a fighter and he wasn’t giving up. The days went by in blurs for McCoy. Some of the crew brought food to him. Different men were his nurses on different days. When he could afford to, which wasn’t often, he slept on an adjacent cot in the infirmary. He gave the kid quinine at regular intervals and the rest of the time he was occupies with the fever, keeping it down, keeping him warm and under blankets, then bringing the fever down again. Keeping up his fluids was a constant challenge. It was hot, hard work involving mostly constant attention and punctuated with short bursts of panicked action. God knew this pirate was his only guarantee of safety.
It was five days after he arrived on the Enterprise that the boy first opened his eyes. He was completely out of his skull delirious, but he was awake. He mumbled sometimes, but it was mostly in Russian. It was three days after that that he finally became lucid, which was a week after he had arrived. It was a week and five days that McCoy finally declared the boy fit enough to return to his own bunk for rest. It was on that day that McCoy finally emerged from the infirmary for nearly the first time for the same interval.
He escorted the young pirate who was thanking him for all his work to his bunk. He wasn’t really listening-it took some concentration to hear through the accent. Once he had the kid deposited in his own bunk he wandered though the deck to the infirmary but when he got there he just couldn’t bring himself to cross the threshold. He held onto the door lintel and swayed a little. The days had gone by in such a blur- the ship was such a blurry place in general. He could hardly remember who the Captain was Kurd? Kirby? There was the Scottyish one named Scotty and the Asian one who hung around even when he wasn’t helping out and the ship! What was the ship called?
He leaned his head against the side of the door. It seemed rude not to know the name of the ship that was keeping you from drowning or being cast adrift. Very rude. Where were his manners?
“Dr. McCoy.” A deadpan voice called from down the hall. He looked up slowly. Not the Captain. He’d met this one though. Not one of his “nurses” either. He was pale, tall, slender, dark eyes, older than the kid, younger than McCoy.
“You…?” he started. The man frowned, although McCoy wasn’t even sure how he had distinguished the frown from his previous neutral expression.
“Doctor, you are exhausted.” The man said. McCoy stared a staggered forward to poke the man’s chest, right dead in the center. He missed but managed to catch the shoulder.
“You have a very…acute sensitivity…to the obvious.” He said. Huh, that sounded a lot less biting than his usual sarcasm.
The man’s frown deepened, “Doctor, you have been neglecting yourself. I understand that we made clear to you the importance of young Mr. Chekov’s health, but…”
“Yes, you did.” You made it quite clear to me…and don’t think I don’t know that I was only useful if he lived. If he died I know what you would’ve done!” McCoy staggered and the hallway seemed to twist. He was either sliding down the wall or the ceiling was going up. The man caught him before he hit the floor. Bastard. He would have happily passed out right then and there. What did the pirates care where he slept anyway?
“Come, doctor. I will bring you to the mess hall and then I will bring you to a room where you may sleep comfortably and undisturbed.” He said, the frown mostly apparent in his tone.
“What for?” the doctor slurred as his arm was slung over the man’s shoulder and he was half dragged down the hall, “You’re not cannibal pirates are you? Now, that would be just my luck.” He babbled on, “But that doesn’t make sense, cause then you wouldn’t need a doctor anyway. Unless you only eat outsiders and this is just a clever ruse.”
Then he was being gently lowered into a seat on a bench in front of a long table. He looked around and found himself in a rather large, open room, occupied only by tables and benches and a big looking man wielding a ladle in a somewhat threatening manner. No one else appeared to be in the room, except, of course, the man who had brought him here who approached the ladler. McCoy watched them speak rather absently. He couldn’t bring himself to show any interest and laid his head down upon the marvelous flat surface that had been so conveniently presented to him.
Part 4