It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind [OPEN]

[adoctornotamuse]

WHO: Leonard McCoy adoctornotamuseand anyone willing to help him.
WHAT: Bones' second nightmare. 8(
WHERE: McCoy's home
WHEN: Today, Evening

Comments

[nothing_human]

She heard it anyway, her Borg-enhanced senses able to pick up at least the direction and tone of his voice, if not exactly what he said--though she could guess.

She followed that short call to what was presumably the doctor's sleeping quarters, and found him on the floor. His visible wounds seemed more superficial than anything--however, with how weak he sounded, the obvious pain he was in, Seven realized that they were probably dealing with internal injuries.

She had nothing but basic medical knowledge. This was thoroughly beyond her, as much as she hated to realize it--but she also didn't think it was safe to move him. If she had a tricorder, she could reprogram some of her nanoprobes to repair the damage, but as they were...they would repair the damage, but would also have undesirable side effects.

Even though she'd paused for what seemed like a long time to run through a mental list of options--a frightfully short list--only a fraction of a second had passed before she was kneeling on the floor by his side. "Is it safe for you to be moved?" She didn't think so, but he could know better. She would be more than capable of it, if it were logical--and if it wouldn't damage him more than he was already.

[adoctornotamuse]

He turned to get a better look at his visitor. Of course, he could barely open his eyes or even see clearly. McCoy wished there was something he could do to help her. This was supposed to be his job, helping the injured. From the small amount of thoughts that actually registered, he could tell that there were some kinds of internal hemmoraging and organ failures.

"Moved?" He asked softly, glancing at Seven. Suddenly, he bit his bottom lip, trying to hold in the fit of coughing. "I have to get help somehow, don't I?" Leonard tried to smile but his mouth barely curled. A drop of sweat fell down his forehead. "The clinic... They should be able to help... until we can find better healing..."

[nothing_human]

"I am not medically trained beyond basic first response. The best I could do would be assisting you in finding suitable help, unless you happen to be hiding a tricorder somewhere." She tried to keep her voice soothing--calm wasn't a problem, she very rarely sounded anything but--knowing that it would help keep him calm.

She wasn't holding out hope for that, of course.

[adoctornotamuse]

Waves of pain continued to pass through McCoy's body but he had to focus. If he could help Seven, then maybe everything would be okay. "The tricorder... It died more than a-" Damn this stupid coughing. Couldn't he speak one whole sentence without having to stop and gasp for breath? "A month ago. It's under the dresser." He told Seven.

McCoy stared at Seven, trying to read her. She seemed to be trying to comfort him. McCoy really wanted to reassure her but this whole mess was his fault. He shouldn't have thought he was in the safe zone. Apparently, there was no such thing in this place.

[nothing_human]

She nodded slightly, surprised that she had gotten an affirmative answer. She'd been attempting to lighten the mood--though the time probably hadn't been all that appropriate for it. She never really had gotten the hang of what the Doctor referred to as 'comedic timing.' "That should not be a problem." She quickly retrieved the bit of technology from its hiding place, and the two tubules in the back of her hand extended, creating a direct interface between her and the powerless machine.

Ordinarily, linking up with something as simple as a tricorder wouldn't drain her systems, but the thing was completely drained of energy, and her own systems were functioning in a more limited capacity. She felt almost dizzy as power from her internal Borg systems was rerouted to the device. But it was enough for the screen to flicker to life, though she didn't know how long she had to work with it. She'd have to move quickly, and with an unfamiliar interface besides. It was many decades more primitive than she was used to.

The simplest modification she could work would be to instruct her nanoprobes to repair whatever internal damage they could before deactivating and disintegrating before their assimilation subroutines took hold. It still took much longer than she would have preferred--a minute or two, before she had reprogrammed enough nanoprobes to work effectively. She retracted the tubules in her hand, and immediately the tricorder stopped functioning again.

"This may cause some discomfort," she warned briefly, before putting her hand down and allowing the assimilation tubules to flick out of her hand again, releasing a mass of nanites that immediately began repairing the internal damage. It would be enough to stabilize him and little more, once separated from her systems and reprogrammed to only repair and not assimilate--therefore creating a source of energy--they would fail within fifteen or twenty minutes. The damage seemed to be too extensive to be fully corrected within that time frame.

[adoctornotamuse]

While Seven did whatever she was doing, Bones laid still, trying not to focus on the pain. To distract himself, he thought of all the possible ways that he was hurt. Sure, it wasn't very optimistic but it got his mind off of the blinding agony he was suffering.

Hearing her say something, McCoy went to turn his head to see what she was talking about until he felt a stabbing pain in he back of his neck. He tensed up slightly, his breathing becoming harsher. McCoy had no idea what she was doing but he prayed that it would help. "You... What'd-?" He found himself unable to finish. Instead, Bones tried to open his eyes again to watch Seven.