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Everything Happens To Me (repost)

Interestingly enough, remember the game Spock and McCoy were playing, vis-ner-kulas? I looked up my made up Vulcan words to see if I had inadvertently named it something in actual Vulcan. The only part which translated was "vis", which meant "grid". So maybe Kulas invented it, hence "grid belonging to/by/of Kulas"
 
Operation

Squinting against the sunlight pouring through the open hatch of the Liesta, Leonard's hand hesitated on the entry ladder's rung, cautious despite the grip stripes that crisscrossed the palms of his safety gloves. He lifted his other hand to his forehead and swiped away a bead of sweat. Breathed in through closed teeth. Sensor scans had confirmed that it was winter in this part of the planet. Winter, my aunt Fanny. If a snowflake dared to fall, it'd probably be evaporated before it hit the ground...

He licked his lips, thinking longingly of the cranberry juice he hadn't finished at the weekly sickbay staff meeting three days ago. In between discussions about re-organizing the examining areas and whether anyone had heard the latest news about Ensign Rynehardt's broken engagement, he had pushed the glass aside, only to have it snatched up by an overeager orderly on clean-up duty. The meeting had then been unceremoniously interrupted when Kirk had summoned him to a senior staff briefing.

His right foot dangled downwards until it grazed the rung below. Hell, I don't have time for this.. Glancing between the floor and his boots, McCoy estimated a difference of about five feet. Releasing his hold on the ladder, he dropped to the floor with an echoing thud. In two seconds, he was peering around the corner of the entry conduit, one hand pressed against the corner of the wall.

He turned and saw the hazy shape of a red-shirted officer, a silhouette in the light smoke that still clung to the courier craft's atmosphere. "Nice jump, Doc."

McCoy rubbed his eyes. "My old b-ball instincts haven't deserted me yet, it would seem." He coughed. "One of the first things they taught us was how to avoid injury. All it takes is one bad landing and you're out of the lineup for weeks."

"Here, here." The officer stepped out of the smoke cloud, weapon at her side. "Reminds me of what my hand-to-hand combat instructor used to say. 'Tuck and roll, save your skull.' Ain't that right, Bullard?" she called up through the hatch.

Another boot appeared on the ladder. "Wish it actually rhymed, but yeah." A male crewman descended and flanked McCoy, eyes alert. Together, they exited the entryway and strode down the corridor, marred with fire damage from the crash landing. The walls were scorched in some places, while others appeared to have buckled due to the heat. "Hey, Keene, how 'bout 'Watch your head, or else you're dead'?"

"Ooh. Good one."

"Listen," McCoy began, blinking as his eyes watered from the haze, "I hate to break up the bad poetry contest, but we need to focus on locating the actual objective of our mission. You know, the antitoxin?"

Keene flicked an annoyed look towards him. "I'm aware of our reasons for being here, Doctor. You made it abundantly clear at the staff meeting, in the shuttle bay, and on the shuttle ride itself." She checked her phaser. "If it wasn't for the delicate handling procedures associated with thumapariol, I would be more than happy to-"

"Superior officer!" Bullard hissed.

Keene colored slightly. "Oh." Clearing her throat, she pointed her weapon out in front of her as they turned a corner, averting her gaze from those of her crewmates. "Sorry."

McCoy chuckled. "Mind telling me how exactly you were going to finish that sentence, Lindsey?"

"Something about planting a foot somewhere you wouldn't like it to go, all the way back to the shuttle." Bullard glanced over his shoulder, smiling. "I speak from experience."

Keene looked like she wanted to elbow her partner, and probably would have, were it not for McCoy. AKA the filling in a Leonard sandwich. She raised her arm and studied the tricorder display on her wristband screen. "According to the courier craft's schematic, perishable cargo would be located in the third bay. That's two floors below us." Inhale. "Getting in will be the tricky part. I'm reading a significant amount of structural damage in the lift shaft." A smile. "And when I say 'significant', I'm talking accordion."

McCoy let out a low whistle. "That bad, huh?"

"Yes, well, fortunately for us, the bays appear to have fared better. Reinforced walls, emergency shielding..." Keene flicked through the schematic pages, stopping to blow a strand of blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail. "And..." Her eyebrows raised. "...a cargo transporter just down the hall."

Bullard leaned over, studying the screen. "Fully cleared for organic matter? Site to site?"

Uh oh.

"Yeah. All fifteen of Catergus Shipping Line's automatic flight crafts were re-certified by the sector's transport inspector only a month ago. Stem to stern."

Double uh-oh. McCoy frowned, his stomach clenching. "Begging your pardon, Keene, but that was before the crash. Now, I'm no engineer, but we have no idea what gave the Liesta a death wish in the first place. I think I'd rather take my chances with a crumbling wall than get turned into scrambled eggs when that thing short-circuits." Great. I'm going to have that nightmare again tonight.

But she was already down the hall and entering a passcode into the transporter room's entry screen. "No time." The door swished open and she entered, McCoy and Bullard trailing behind. As she ducked behind the console, they stepped up onto the transporter's platform. "There's an emergency atmospheric vent in the bay's floor. I'll head back to the shuttle while you and Nate search the bay. After you retrieve the thumapariol, leave through the vent. Your ride'll be waiting." Her fingers danced across the console's operation screen. The console buzzed. "Damn." She tried again. "Damn." Third try. "Okay. Ready for you."

McCoy and Bullard nervously exchanged glances. "You first," they both said in unison, each pointing at the other.

Keene snorted. "I'd gladly go first, except we're heading in two different directions." She swept her hand over her uniform insignia. "I'm a security officer, not a transporter technician. I draw the line at doing the splits."

Couldn't you draw it so that I'm standing on the other side? The side where I don't run the risk of becoming beamkill? McCoy exhaled. "Let's just get this over with." He checked his wristband. "We've got less than five hours to get the antitoxin back into cold storage before it begins to degrade."

"Foot," Bullard whispered as Keene activated the transporter, dematerializing the two men.
 
"Nugeltan nectar? Who in their right mind would import that?"

Leonard's eyes watered as the scent of rotting fruit hit his nostrils. "Somebody with no sense of smell or taste, I imagine." He shivered as the cold air generator began cycling again, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. "Leave it, Nate. The courier service's recovery and salvage team will take care of the rest of the cargo."

"If the Remzard don't find the wreckage first." Bullard replaced the spilled bottle in its shipping container and attached an anti-grav unit to each side. "Give me a hand with this. On three." Both men grabbed a handle and hefted the container into the far corner of the bay. "Whew. Rumor has it they've been spotted around this sector twice in the last month."

"Mm. You think they might have shot down the Liesta?" McCoy unfastened his anti-grav and passed it to the security officer.

"Possibly, if they were trying to disable the engines." Bullard took the unit in one hand and tugged his toque down over his ears with the other. Short black hair peeked out from underneath. "It's well known that Catergus has been running automated craft on easy routes like this one. Saves their pilots for more delicate missions." He continued down the aisle, running his gloved hands over the crates. "What about this one? It's got a Starfleet logo on it."

McCoy checked the manifest on his PADD. He shook his head. "Floral DNA samples for the biology databank on Aldous IX." He moved to the next row. Crates of various sizes lined the insulated shelves. Blowing out a foggy breath, he stood on his tiptoes, trying to read the label on a small blue box. "Been and gone, then?"

"Generally, Remzard raiders like to strip the ships they attack fairly quickly." Bullard wiped his frosty gloves on his pants. "So, no." His boots stomped down his aisle, stopping about halfway between McCoy and the wall. "Hey, what about this? 'Biosynthesis Laboratory, Fortescue University-'"

"That's the one."

"Doesn't appear to be damaged. The containment seal is still activated."

Leonard rounded the corner, breathing a sigh of relief. Ever since the Enterprise had received word of the craft's disappearance, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of the virus outbreak on Janhold II. Similar to diphtheria, the Yiosanga virus had already spread rapidly through two satellite science outposts before finally striking the main colony hard. Supplies of the only antitoxin that had showed success in combatting the infection were quickly depleted.

The Liesta had departed Deep Space Station H-1 two weeks ago with a shipment of the antitoxin, only to fall off Catergus's radar four days later. An urgent bulletin had been transmitted to all starships in the area to be on the lookout for the courier craft. Upon location, the precious cargo was either to be recovered and transferred to the Salabes, (one of the company's other craft which had been dispatched shortly thereafter) or ferried directly to Janhold II. Having narrowed the location of the Liesta to the Temaning system's fourth planet, the Enterprise had dispatched the Remarque, one of their newly acquired light shuttlecraft, to the Liesta's crash site, while they remained on the outskirts of the system, patrolling. Though little more than a pod, it had been outfitted with a small cold storage unit for the mission.

McCoy swallowed hard, thoughts of the strangling membrane Yiosanga virus produced making his throat burn. He stopped next to Bullard, who had already tugged the case down from its niche and now gripped the handle in both hands. "Let's take a look."

The security officer set the case on top of a large crate and stepped back, allowing McCoy to inspect the contents. He entered an access password and deactivated the opacity filter. 200 vials of pale green liquid were nestled securely in their niches, not a one damaged. He removed his tricorder from its satchel and scanned the contents. Still usable. Thank the Lord.

Replacing his tricorder, McCoy re-activated the filter and handed the case back to Bullard. "Vent's thataway," he informed the officer, gesturing over his shoulder, where a trapdoor rested against one wall. They both strode towards the end of the room, where Bullard carefully set the case down on the floor.

Both men worked together to pry the hatch open. When it slid back with a loud clanking sound, McCoy pulled his communicator out of his pocket and flipped it on. "McCoy to shuttlecraft, come in. We have the package." I'm a doctor, not an intelligence operative. "Come in, Remarque. This is McCoy." Only static answered him.

Bullard grunted as he lowered himself through the hatch, reaching for the case's handle again. "Did you toggle the gain?" He disappeared from view, dragging the case with him.

"Hang on a sec, I'll try Keene's personal comm." McCoy changed comm frequencies, his tongue poking out between his teeth briefly. "McCoy to Keene. Lindsey, are you getting this?" After a few moments, he stabbed the comm button with his thumb. "Blast it. I'm gonna try tracing her unit." Plopping down on the edge of the hatch, he selected the tracking program with one hand, sliding his legs down the chute. The screen displayed a map of the surrounding area that was supposed to highlight transmission signals and other energy sources nearby. Nothing.

"Oof."His boots hit the ditch that the Liesta had created when it crashed, sending a puff of dust into the air around his feet. "She's still not responding." Blinking in the bright sunlight, he removed his gloves and stuffed them in his pocket. "Do you see the shuttle anywhere? 'Cause I-"

He stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over a furrow in the dirt. The furrow groaned.

"Keene!" The woman lay facedown in the dirt, arms splayed to the side. A large welt on the back of her head oozed blood. McCoy dropped to her side and felt for a pulse. Strong and steady. Gently, he began to roll the woman onto her side so that he could examine her wound. A soft moan issued from her lips as she dragged the fingers of one hand idly through the dirt.

McCoy began to unlatch his medical kit when a loud whine sounded from behind his head. He dropped the satchel and turned, his jaw nearly colliding with the butt of an energy rifle. A muscular silver male Remzard pointed the weapon at his head, gaze never wavering. His scaled crest gleamed in the bright sunlight.

"Don't try anything," the reptilian thug snarled. Behind him stood four others, two of whom had a firm grip on Bullard's arms. His uniform was dusty and rumpled from an apparent struggle in which the security officer had apparently lost his toque. He sported a black eye and a split lip, but appeared otherwise unharmed. The case of antitoxin lay on its side on the ground.

"Get up," the Remzard ordered, pointing the gun at McCoy's chest. "Surrender your weapons and communication devices."

Standing slowly, McCoy removed his phaser from the belt around his waist and tossed it to the ground. He did the same for his comm, then placed both hands on top of his head, chancing a glance at Keene as he backed up. The officer lay still, the only movement her respirations. "That your idea of a warm welcome?" he snapped.

The Remzard grunted, crest shrugging. "She resisted."

"She's trained to resist hostiles."

The Remzard ignored the jab. Instead, he picked up McCoy's phaser, then turned to his compatriots and spoke in low tones, keeping his own gun trained on McCoy. One of the others, a younger purple individual, tugged on his own shirt and pointed over the leader's shoulder. Straight at him. Well, this is a fine place to have a swap meet. I'll give you two rights for a left... Bullard shook his head, as though fighting to stay conscious. Three...

The leader licked his lips, forked tongue tasting the air. Stepping over Keene's prone body, he looked McCoy straight in the eyes, as though taking his measure. "Officer," he began, one hand on his hip. Teal, actually. "Achazo suggests you may be a surgeon."

"Happens I am." Leonard's mouth tightened. "Starfleet trained. What of it?"

"You may be of use to us."

La de da. "None of you look sick." Physically, that is.

"One of my men has need of medical care." The Remzard's gaze didn't waver. "You will come with us and see to his injuries." He lowered his weapon until it was pointed at Keene and pushed on her side with his gray boot. She moaned. The leader glanced over his shoulder at Bullard, who was receiving menacing glares from his captors. Raised the rifle again, pressing the butt end against McCoy's breastbone. "Need I explain the consequences if you refuse?"

Our slow, torturous deaths? Those consequences? "You needn't." McCoy fisted his hands at his sides. "My cooperation comes with one condition; allow me to treat my people first."

The leader's lip curled. "Their injuries are insignificant."

"Compared to what?"

A clawed hand grabbed and twisted McCoy's outer jacket, pulling him closer. "You are in no position to negotiate with me, Doctor. Remember that." He gestured towards the rest of the group. "You are outnumbered and weakened, they by their wounds and you by your sentiment for them."

"I'm also not the one asking - no, begging - for help." McCoy glared at him, his teeth grinding. "If you do anything more to harm my people, I'm conveniently going to forget all of my fancy book learning. Capisce?" He spat on the ground.

The leader's eyes narrowed. His tongue flicked. "As you wish. See to your officer." He released McCoy and stepped back, weapon at the ready. At a snap of his fingers, his men released Bullard, who stumbled forward. Shaking his head, he approached the doctor slowly.

Crouching next to Keene's side, McCoy removed his tricorder from its satchel and activated it. No sign of internal hemorrhaging...pulse and respiration okay... He extracted a small device from his medkit and used it to clean and treat her head wound. "Nate, how you doing?"

"Better than I was." Bullard rubbed his bruised eye.

Covering what remained of Keene's injury with a bandage, he removed a hypo and pressed the injector against the side of her neck. Her eyes fluttered open in response to the stimulant. She blinked to focus her eyesight and failed, frowning at McCoy with bleary eyes. "Don't try-" Her arm swung at McCoy's face.

He grabbed it just before she made contact with his nose. "Easy, Lindsey. It's me, Leonard."

Keene blinked a couple more times, then finally managed to hone in on his face. She winced as McCoy helped her sit up and put her head between her knees. "My head." One hand grazed the bandage. "Somebody hit me." Both hands reached up and rubbed the sand out of her eyes.

"Remzard raiders. They ambushed you just outside the Liesta." Bullard crouched down beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "So much for tuck and roll, eh, Lindy?"

She barked out a laugh. "'Look before you exit,' that's another one. Stupid. Never saw 'em coming. I blame the shirt," she added, tugging on her uniform collar.

"Look at the light." McCoy raised her chin and held up a small penlight to her eyes. Pupils dilating properly. He clicked the light off. "Now follow my finger." Keene obeyed. Returning to normal. That's one small mercy. Smiling slightly, McCoy stood. "I'll see you in sickbay later, but for now, we've got places to be. He-" McCoy pointed at the Remzard leader, who was watching them out of the corner of one reptilian eye "-has an injured comrade who needs my assistance." He and Bullard extended their hands towards Keene, who allowed herself to be helped to a standing position.

Sighing, she brushed the sand off her pants. "I'd be happy to tend to him myself," she joked, re-tying her ponytail as best she could.

"Pretty sure your idea of 'tending' goes against my oath." McCoy frowned. "Enterprise won't be expecting us for a few hours yet, so with no weapons or comms, we don't have much of a choice if we want to get the antitoxin to Janhold II in time." He reached for the case and shoved it into Bullard's arms. "Don't let it out of your sight. If anyone asks, tell them it contains surgical tools I might need." He walked over to the crowd of Remzard. "All right. We're ready to go. Lead the way."

The Remzard leader opened his mouth, but said nothing. Instead, he stalked up the hill, leaving the Starfleet crewmembers to follow him, with his men taking the rear. Squinting against the sunlight, McCoy glanced back at the shipwreck. In and out. It's never that easy, is it?
 
They hiked for what seemed like hours, crossing over two streams, past a wooded area and up a narrow pathway that snaked up the side of a granite cliff. McCoy's boots were beginning to pinch his toes, but he didn't stop moving. A patient is a patient is a patient...and a gun is a gun is a gun...

Just ahead, Bullard switched the antitoxin case from his right hand to his left, flexing the former to get the blood flowing again. Behind, the soft puff of Keene's breath cooled Leonard's neck as she hurried to keep ahead of their captors. "You okay?" he asked.

"For a hostage."

The Remzard leader halted suddenly, bringing everyone to a stop on a plateau in front of a small cave. "Guard the others," he instructed his people. "Surgeon." He made eye contact with McCoy and gestured towards the mouth of the cave. "You will find the injured one inside."

"Alone?" McCoy sidled past the group of Humans and Remzard until he was standing on the other side of the entrance. He peered into the darkness, one hand resting on his medkit. Damp and cold...not ideal conditions for an infirmary.

"No. He is supervised." The tone of the Remzard leader's voice finished the sentence with an unspoken, and so are you, Don't try anything. "This way." He entered the cave and McCoy followed along behind him, dodging the occasional stalagmite. Water licked at his pant cuffs as he trudged through the puddles.

About seventy feet from the entrance and around a corner, someone had attached a portable light to the wall. A Remzard sentry was illuminated by its glow. The young peach female, who was wearing a protective vest over her tunic, stood up from one end of a small rock shelf and aimed her weapon at McCoy and the leader. "Name yourself," she growled.

"Estame. Stand down."

At the sound of her leader's voice, Estame's shoulders relaxed and the crest of scaled fronds on her head flattened. She lowered the weapon and holstered it reluctantly, keeping her gaze trained on the doctor. "The stranger. Who is he, Shegid?" she asked, a note of suspicion in her voice.

"A surgeon. He will tend Griven." Shegid stood back, allowing the doctor to slip past him. He lingered for a moment, then exited the cave the way he had come.

As Leonard approached the shelf, he was able to make out a bundle of clothing that someone had piled there. He started when the clothing groaned and a scaled arm thrust out, trembling with a spasm. Hurrying next to the injured Remzard, McCoy dropped to his knees in a puddle and quickly unwrapped the coverings from his face as gently as possible.

The first thing that struck him was Griven's pallor. Scales that would have otherwise been deep purple were now a sickly shade of greyish lilac. His crest hung limply over his forehead. Both eyelids flickered rapidly as he gave a slow, raspy breath. "How long has he been like this?" McCoy asked his guard.

Estame's brow furrowed. "Three days. He worsened a few hours ago." She rested her hand on her weapon. "Can you do anything for him?"

"Hold on a moment. I haven't even had a chance to examine your man properly." Not to mention that what I know about Remzard physiology wouldn't even fill a business card. McCoy removed his tricorder and initialized the basic diagnostic program to get a readout of Griven's vital signs. "Would you please uncover him for me? I want to see the extent of his injuries."

"He was cold." Estame's voice carried the chill of the cave. "And..." She glanced away. "I didn't want to...I couldn't..."

Oh. "That bad, huh?" McCoy glanced at the screen, biting his lip. Vascular pressure's awfully low. Even without a baseline for these people...he must've lost a lot of blood.

"We were scavenging for raw materials," she continued, slowly undoing the blankets strewn over his legs. "A boulder loosened from its moorings and...and he didn't have time to get out of the way." She briefly returned her gaze to McCoy as she worked at a stubborn fold of cloth that appeared to be stuck together with dried blood. "We managed to move him here aft-oh." She winced, looking away, and covered her nose.

McCoy followed her gaze to Griven's legs. My God... Both limbs were bent and contorted in unnatural positions. Broken ends of bone jutted out from Griven's bloodied flesh. Crush wounds. He shook his head, feeling the poor man's pain, and selected an internal scan program on his tricorder. The image that appeared wasn't encouraging. The compound fracture of his left leg was more pronounced than the right, producing multiple splinters. There was also significant damage to his right knee, which was swollen to the size of a grapefruit. "Have you been giving him fluids?" he questioned, scanning the Remzard's chest.

Estame nodded. "As often as I could. Th-that's one reason we brought him here. Access to water." She clutched one arm, a shiver rippling through her body. "He was-he was feverish for a few hours yesterday, but it b-broke overnight." Her voice quivered, all traces of her earlier toughness replaced by the exhaustion of a sentry who had probably had little rest since the accident. "What now?"

McCoy clenched his fists at his sides. This cave wasn't designed as a surgical suite! I can't operate here! But if I don't... He thought of Keene and Bullard, waiting outside the cave with the other Remzard. A shiver ran down his back, and he looked up at the guard, pleading with his eyes. "Estame, he's going to need better care than I can give him here. Blood replacement, antibiotics, regenerative therapy...there's only so much I can do without the proper facilities."

She frowned. "What can you do, then?"

"I can set the broken bones and seal the wounds, but it won't be enough. You'll need to take him to a hospital." McCoy stood, placing a hand on her arm. "We have a medical unit aboard the ship i come from. Let me call my captain, and we can-"

She yanked her arm away, her body rigid. "No." The word came out almost as a hiss. "No ships. Do what you can."

"Why not?"

Estame laughed bitterly. "Remzard are not welcome in your Federation." At his look of surprise, one finger jabbed the Starfleet insignia on his jacket. "I've seen this before, surgeon. Starfleet. Federation. Our dealings have been less than...pleasant. And so far, I have not seen anything to change my opinion."

Besides the fact that I'm in a cave with an unconscious invalid and his bone-weary guard and haven't attempted an escape yet? A thought struck him. "Speaking of ships, where's yours?" Estame turned her head away, as though she'd slapped him."What?"

She said nothing for several moments, studying Griven's drawn face instead. "I spoke falsely. We were in fact hunting for foodstuffs." A soft breath, her crest rising and falling with it. "Our own people marooned us here."

"Marooned?" After checking the vital sign readings, McCoy administered a pain reliever to his patient, opting for an area underneath his arm, which wasn't quite as protected by his scales. Almost immediately, some of the strain left Griven's features. Good.

"There was an argument about...a potential target. The commander wanted to take a big risk."

"You mean a raid."

She tugged on one of the fronds of her crest. "Some of the crew felt it was a foolish idea. Suicidal. There was an argument, and we were abandoned here. End of the tale."

McCoy sat back on his haunches. "Which side of the mutiny were you on?"

"The losing side, obviously." Bitterness coated her words. "Or else I wouldn't be here."

"No, I was asking whether you were among the pro or anti-raid camp." When she didn't answer, McCoy knelt by the cave wall and began to fiddle with the portable light. "How do I turn up the brightness on this thing?"

"There's a knob on the side." Estame crouched down next to McCoy, adjusting it for him. "There. Will you require anything else, surgeon?"

"Call me Leonard." He refilled his hypospray, this time with a heavy sedative. "And pray that I don't," he added, injecting its contents into Griven.
 
After restraining Griven's arms and ankles so he couldn't further injure himself, and painstakingly cutting away his patient's shredded trousers, McCoy carefully cleaned the many wounds created by shards of bone poking through the skin. He then began the arduous process of setting what remained of the Remzard's bones in place.

The task was complicated both by the thickness of his patient's scaled flesh and his ability to metabolize the sedative fairly quickly. So, following a crash course in anesthesiology, he gave the task of adjusting Griven's medication and monitoring his vitals to Estame. It allowed him to concentrate on the surgery and gave her something other than wounds to look at. She'd allowed him to take her readings in order to give the tricorder something to compare the patient's to, and now she sat by his head, ready to do whatever McCoy asked.

Having since exchanged his excursion gloves for surgical ones, he pushed one splintered end of Griven's left femur toward the other, careful to avoid tearing the swollen muscle tissue. Easy... He blinked as a bead of sweat ran into his eyes. His fingers slipped as a squirt of blue blood pooled around them. Damn! He can't afford to lose any more blood. This would be so much easier back on the Enterprise. Surely the medical database has some basic information about Remzard blood - I don't want to risk a transfusion and kill him... Sealing off the leakage quickly, he sighed. "Estame."

The sound of water being wrung from a cloth. "What?"

"I'm almost finished with the first leg. Would you pass me the autosealer?" He gestured with his hands. "It's bronze, about this long, and has a narrow end." Estame leaned over and placed the tool in his hand. "Thanks."

She returned to her seat by Griven's head. A low moan from him was followed by the soft hiss of the hypospray. A few seconds passed as she studied his readings. "He's evened out. Continue."

Squinting, McCoy bent over his patient once again, slowly running the beam of the autosealer over the incision he'd made in an attempt to coax it closed, millimeter by millimeter, layer by layer. Ten minutes later, he turned off the instrument and placed the palms of his hands against the small of his back. Ooh...I'm getting too old for this...He studied his work so far, satisfied. A dark blue line stood out against the bruised flesh surrounding it. Several smaller marking, also puckered shut, where the splinters had pierced his skin. It's a good start.

A small pouch of water sat on a stone to his right, where Estame had no doubt placed it. Lifting the pouch to his lips, he drank. He'd already tested the quality of the water in the cave because of Griven's exposure to it; aside from a variety of mineral salts and some apparently harmless microorganisms, it was pure and therefore safe to drink. A sample of the cave water now lay in a vial in his satchel, awaiting a more detailed analysis.

A silent shadow moved behind him. Throughout his treatment, he'd noticed that Shegid occasionally wandered into the cave to check on his progress. It didn't bother him that much, especially when he heard the voices of his officers echoing from just outside the door, apparently sharing some kind of scavenged fruit with their captors. Keene even laughed at something one of Remzard said. Better that than another faceplant in the sand...

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Leonard then set to work on Griven's right leg and knee. Despite a couple more bleeders, he was able to re-align the bones with greater precision this time - as there were fewer shards to remove - and successfully rejoined one end of the shattered femur to the other. Closure of the incision took about the same amount of time. The kneecap, fortunately, wasn't broken - saved by a hollow in the ground where he got injured, I expect - but several of the connective tissues surrounding it were torn - he might've tried to free himself and twisted them in the process. Repairing the ligaments as best as he could with his medkit tools, he finally closed the last of the incisions and set aside his devices. That'll have to do for now.

Removing his bloodstained gloves and setting them aside, McCoy dropped down into a puddle, little caring that the seat of his pants were now thoroughly soaked. Grabbing the water pouch again, he poured it over his head and rubbed his bleary eyes, then took another swig.

He strode over to where Estame sat, still clutching the tricorder, and sat down on a rock next to her. "All right. Hard part's over." Taking his instrument from her hands, he scanned the unconscious man a final time. Griven rested on the makeshift surgical table, his legs now covered by a heat blanket Estame had retrieved from the medkit. While his face hadn't regained any color,

McCoy felt the shadow again and turned. Shegid loomed in the background, eyes on the patient. "He'll still be fragile for a while. You'll have to splint his legs so that he can't undo what I've done." Setting the tricorder aside, he rooted in his satchel and pulled out a couple of vials. "I'll leave you some antibiotics in case of infection, and painkillers to ease his discomfort. You can administer them by mouth if necessary." He handed the vials to Estame and crossed his arms over his chest, glancing back and forth between the two Remzard. "You sure I can't talk you into catching a ride with us? Temaning IV is a little off the beaten path for passenger ships, not to mention follow-up house calls."

Shegid shook his head. "We will remain here. Do you not have faith in your own work, Surgeon?"

"I do. But I also know that if he doesn't get further care, he'll continue to suffer from pain later in life. Primarily due to the build-up of scar tissue, nerve complications..." McCoy's voice trailed off.

Estame looked to Shegid, her expression a little more hopeful. "He could advocate for us, Shegid. You saw. He was...merciful."

Another shake. "No."

Okay then. Have it your way. "Suit yourselves." McCoy turned and began to clean up his used medical supplies. He snuck a glance at his watch. Four hours?!"Look, I've got to get back to the shuttlecraft with my people. We're transporting a vital medicine to a colony in need, and time is of the essence."

Shegid opened his mouth to say something, when something appeared to catch his attention. "Stay," he warned Estame, one hand raised. He hurried to the mouth of the cave, splashing through the puddles as he ran.

A shout rose from outside. What's that about? McCoy followed after Shegid as Estame returned to Griven's side, the vials clutched in her hands. Her eyes lit with curiousity, then scrunched into a worried frown as the leader withdrew his gun.

McCoy stopped short when the Remzard leader skidded to a halt in front of him. Pointed his weapon in the direction of the entrance, where two shadowy humanoid figures stood with the sun at their backs, aiming rifles of their own. Lovely. "Don't tell me; mutiny, round two," he whispered to the Remzard. "Ex-friends of yours come to finish what they started, huh?"

The Remzard did not answer. Instead, he kept his gaze on the newcomers, who had now increased in number to seven. "Lower your weapons now," he intoned. Beside him, the other Remzard who had been hobnobbing with his fellow crewmates backed him up. Keene and Bullard, on the other hand, were nowhere to be seen. Now where did they-

"You first." The man who stood in front of the crowd of newcomers didn't budge an inch. "And don't try anything funny." He indicated those behind him. "There's plenty of reinforcements where we came from-" his head tipped upwards "-and it's only one call away. Fire and I make that call." Two steps forward. His finger twitched on the trigger. "So far, I count two out of three. Where's my doctor?"

Jim! McCoy's pulse jumped at the sight of his commanding officer. Where did you come from? Stupid question. "Damn it, Jim, if you're going to shoot, at least give me a chance to get out of the way first." He stepped around Shegid, hands raised just in case, and jogged slowly towards the captain. "Or better yet, don't shoot."

Kirk looked him up and down, then re-holstered his phaser, jaw tight. "You okay, Bones?"

McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. "A little soggy. A little sore." He glanced down at his tunic; dark blue blood stains streaked across it every which way. "A little surgery." He indicated the cave over his shoulder. "Well, a lot of surgery. One of their people was badly injured in an accident after their crew marooned them for mutinying. Their scouting party came upon us as we were leaving the Liesta and, um, managed to persuade us to come to their assistance."

McCoy peered past Kirk. Among the landing party were five security officers, weapons still drawn on the Remzard, and a nurse who assessed Keene's condition as his original security escorts sat on the ground a distance away from the standoff. Bullard's hand rested on top of the antitoxin case, fingers idly tapping the outside as he observed the goings on.

After several moments, Shegid turned to his people, a weary look on his face. "Stand down," he ordered. The Remzard all complied, lowering their weapons to the ground.

Kirk acknowledged the surrender with a curt nod at the leader. "Good call."

As the security team began to surrounded and disarm the Remzard, McCoy glanced over his shoulder, catching the eye of a tall felinoid female who was restraining Achazo. "There's a couple more in the cave, Lt. Re'Is. One's recovering from surgery. He goes directly to sickbay. I want his blood analyzed and typed. We may be able to do a transfusion with one of the others. A woman's tending him. She's armed, but I don't think she'll be any trouble."

The felinoid acknowledged him with a nod and left the prisoner with her colleagues, heading into the cave with a male Vulcan ensign.

Turning back to the captain, McCoy followed him around the side of the cave, where a spindly tree grew sideways from the rocks, providing a small amount of relief from the heat. "Jim, what are you doing here? I thought the Enterprise was supposed to be patrolling the outer edge of the system."

Kirk shrugged. "It is. Spock's holding down the fort right now." He smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I figured you could use a little help when you didn't respond to our repeated hails following the skirmish."

McCoy frowned. "Skirmish? What skirmish?"

Kirk's head tipped to one side. "Seems a ship full of Remzard raiders thought it would be a good idea to engage in a little...unofficial trade deal; the contents of Enterprise's cargo bays in exchange for a plenty of nothing."

I should've known... McCoy's mouth quirked. He tsked. "Seems awfully one-sided to me."

"I know, right?" Kirk glanced down. "Needless to say it wasn't a smooth negotiation by any means. But, after an intense mutual exchange of offers, I managed to finagle an even better bargain." He counted on his fingers. "We keep all of our cargo, and their starship. They get free accommodations at one of the Federation's finest detention facilities." He rested one hand on the rock wall, just beneath the tree. "Not bad for a few minutes' work, huh?"

McCoy chuckled. "Not bad at all." His gaze tracked to Re'Is and the Vulcan, who were now exiting the cave with Estame. They handed her off to one of the others and moved to guard the entrance, giving the nurse the all clear to check on Griven. Keene and Bullard stood off to the side, watching as the Remarque touched down on the plateau, piloted, no doubt, by an as-yet-unseen eighth member of the landing party. That's going to be a tight squeeze...

McCoy gestured over towards the Remzard as Kirk eased away from the wall and headed in the direction of the impromptu landing strip. "What about the mutineers? Despite our rather unorthodox introduction, we've kind of reached an understanding." He smiled at Estame, who nodded back, her worried expression replaced with one of peace. "After what they've been through, they could probably use a good meal...transportation...amnesty?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at the captain.

"I think we might be able to arrange that," Kirk agreed. "The first two, anyway. No promises about that third one." He clapped a hand on McCoy's shoulder. "I don't make those decisions. But I'll be sure to put in a good word for them in my report to Starfleet Command, given their ready cooperation."

"You do that." They approached the shuttle, Bullard and Keene falling in behind them. The Remarque's hatch opened and extended a short ramp onto the ground. "As a matter of fact, I might even testify at the asylum hearing myself, assuming we're in the area."

Kirk paused at the bottom of the ramp, frowning. "I thought you were a doctor, not a lawyer."

McCoy reached back for the case as Bullard handed it over to him, and strode into the craft, laughing. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jim."
 
I realized I hadn't yet added this chapter. (I still haven't included all of them, but this one, I think, is particularly well done.)
 
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Frozen

Let it go, Leonard.

McCoy gritted his teeth together and shivered as stinging cold snow melted down below the collar of his parka and sent icy rivulets of liquid trailing down his spine. He pressed one gloved hand to the ground and chanced a look at the other one, locked in a fist around what used to be a sealed sample container. Spidery cracks split it in two halfway down the pipette's barrel. Naturally, it can survive heat and cold and a nuclear bomb, but not the death grip of a frigid physician... He studied the black stain on his gloves with dismay. After much negotiation on Kirk's part, the Ruryno had allowed them one day of gathering samples from and making scans of the fourth planetoid in their system. Fynthas was a protected area, akin to a national park on Earth, and the fact that they were there at all was nothing short of a miracle. So to lose what he'd painstakingly collected thus far was a double blow.

Laughter from behind him finally caused him to stand up from his squatting position and face his attacker. "Have we reached our daily quota for juvenile behaviour today already, or would you like to try burying me up to my neck, too?" He strode forward and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.

Jim sat on his haunches, one hand paused in midair over the beginnings of a small snowball. Three others sat to his left. "Wow, that's a sour face. You know what you need, Bones? A snowcone. Well, uh, sans cone, though." He finished rolling the fourth one and held it up in a gloved hand towards McCoy. "Have one. It's on me."

McCoy held up one hand palm forwards. "No thanks. My spine has had enough tingling for a while." He held up the sample container towards Jim. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

Jim studied it closely. "A sample."

McCoy shook his head. "Not just any sample. That, my dear captain, is the result of an hour kneeling on the cold hard ground using tweezers to collect berries only a little bit bigger than a grain of sand from a fragile lichen without crushing their juice out, just so I could collect 900 milligrams worth." He glanced at the pipette once more. A few tiny black granules clung to the sides, but most of them were either spilled on the snow or staining his gloved hand with sticky black juice. "Thanks to your little hand grenade, I have to start all over again."

Kirk's face fell. "Sorry. I didn't realize. Thought you'd fallen asleep or something." He stood up and approached McCoy, looking more closely at the remnants of the sample. "Seriously. Why's this stuff so important, anyway?" He pressed his mouth shut lightly.

Will wonders never cease? I think he actually wants to know. "Inside each one of these little berries is an even smaller seed. If you crush enough of those seeds and brew them into an emulsion, the end result is a potent drug that stimulates the immune system."

Kirk nodded. "All that in one little..." He shook his head. "Too bad you can't just take the whole plant and save yourself the trouble."

McCoy closed his eyes. "Yeah, I wish."

"That's one of the rare ones, right?"

Leonard dropped the broken container into his bag and pulled out a PADD. He tapped it once to turn it on and the page he'd been reading earlier came into view. "Extremely rare. Only produces fruit every...fourth winter," he continued, reading off the screen. "Native to the northern hemisphere of Fynthas, no natural predators. Besides the Kalwe, that is." He held his stained glove up to Kirk's nose, smiling. "I think you can guess why."

Kirk sniffed, then pulled his head away as though he'd been slapped. "Ughhh..." He coughed twice. "That is nasty disgusting. How can anybody...I think I'd rather take my chances with a virus." He fanned the air in front of him.

McCoy chuckled. "Landychya told me they call it 'mehuc-najret'. It means 'dung-berry'." Got you back. He shivered as the wind picked up around them.

Kirk grimaced, wrinkling his nose. "I can see why." He grabbed a glove full of snow and held it to his nose. "Ahh, oh, that's better." Lifting one finger in the air, he wagged it in front of Leonard's face. "So help me, if you ever-"

"Captain." Both men turned to see the first officer slowly making his way down the slope of the ridge behind them. He slid partway downwards before jogging towards their position. As he approached them, he sniffed the air briefly, his expression never changing as he looked between Kirk and McCoy. "Am I interrupting the meting out of discipline?"

Kirk's hand dropped to his side. "Nah." He shook his head. "I know you have good ears, Mr. Spock, but surely you didn't hear our snowball fight from all the way across the lake."

One eyebrow rose. "I know nothing of your apparent physical altercation, nor the usage of ice crystals as weaponry in this instance. I merely wished to inform you that I sent the rest of the science team back to the Enterprise and would strongly recommend we return as well." He looked upwards, and both men followed his gaze. Thick, dark clouds loomed overhead. When did it get so dark? "Fynthas is prone to sudden storms. I was informed nine minutes ago by Mr. Chekov that two such storms have collided, creating a supercell that is tracking towards our location. If we do not leave soon, we will not be able to transport safely."

McCoy leaned down and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Say no more; you had me at 'storm'." He noted the time displaying on his PADD; 1004 hours. "Haven't even been here half the day. It's a darn shame. Think you can sweet-talk the Ruryno Natural Preservation Department into giving us a little more time tomorrow, Jim?"

A shadow passed over the sun, causing the captain to look up. "Wow, it is getting darker all of a sudden." Kirk's boots crunched through the snow. "I'll see what I can do, Bones. Those guys aren't the easiest to talk to; everything's couched in sci-babble and legalese."

"I would be most appreciative of your efforts as well, sir. The fertility of the soil at the bottom of the lakebed suggests a volcanic eruption may have been partially responsible for its formation." Spock tucked his chin under his jacket collar as the winds swirled around them.

Kirk held his arms up in surrender. "All right, all right. Don't gang up on me. That's the last thing I need." He shivered as they reached the top of the ridge. "Besides, I want to come back, too."

McCoy smiled. "Don't tell me; you want to build a snowman." Kirk shook his head. "No? Go sledding with a certain female science officer, maybe make a few snow angels?"

Kirk tipped his head to one side, sticking both hands in his pockets. "Actually, as great as all that sounds, I was kind of hoping to see a wumyo."

McCoy sighed. "Oh, brother. Did you even read that guidebook they gave us? You're as likely to see a wumyo as Spock is to sprout wings and fly." He shook his head, thinking of Landychya, the elderly Kalwe native woman who'd regaled them with tales of her people's heritage. The Kalwe had lived on Fynthas for many years before the Ruryno had sent a manned spaceship to the planetoid. Upon arriving there, they'd offered the dying tribe the chance to move to their planet instead and thrive. Most of them had accepted the offer, but a few remained behind to live as the ancients had.

Landychya had accompanied her two sons and their families to Ruryno, saying that someone had to teach the Kalwe children their heritage. McCoy had sat spellbound near the tiny wizened woman as she shared traditional healing secrets her people had held for centuries. In turn, he offered to show her some old Earth remedies, an offer she declined politely. "Maybe someday," she'd smiled mysteriously.

He'd listened one night as she recounted tales of the wumyo at a gathering of Kalwe, Ruryno, and Starfleet officers alike. Supposedly, they were as tall as two men, covered in silver fur, with the face of a canine. Several Kalwe claimed to have been rescued from danger by a wumyo; several more had seen them. But thus far, despite the best efforts of Ruryno scientists, nobody had ever obtained a sample or an image. The best they had were cave drawings and paintings on parchment. While Leonard valued the scientific wisdom of the Kalwe, things you could prove, their legends were another matter. But Jim had lapped it up as the gospel truth.

Kirk shrugged. "It could happen. Those stories have to come from somewhere, right?"

McCoy tapped Kirk's forehead. "Yeah. Up here. In the fevered brains of desperate, delusional people. Ever heard of a thing called 'snow blindness'? The mind plays tricks on you, or you see what you want to. Either way, it's a myth at best." He turned to a silent Spock, shielding his face with his arm as a gust of wind blew snow into it. "Don't just stand there; get us out of here. I'm freezing."

Spock pulled out his comm. "Spock to Enterprise. Three to beam up." He glanced at the darkened sky. "Mister Scott, do you read me?"

The comm crackled. "-worse...have to adju-can ye give me one minute?" The engineer's voice sounded vaguely distracted as he was no doubt trying to calculate the appropriate transporter settings to keep them from becoming one with the wall. Fine by me.

"We may not have that long, Scotty. Storm's blowing in." Kirk wrapped his arms around his midsection.

"xchhh-blasted interference! I'll get ye, dinna worry. I-" Sparkles of light surrounded the three men. McCoy closed his eyes, anticipating the warmth of the transporter room. And quiet. No howling winds...

A sudden gust of wind knocked the doctor to his knees. What the heck? He covered his head with both arms as the snow rushed around him, trying to catch his breath. Did I rematerialize in the holodeck or something? A quick glance upward revealed the same black clouds he'd seen earlier, barely visible through the blowing snow. "Jim! Spock!" he gasped. "It didn't work. We-" Another gust of wind cut him off. He squinted as icy crystals stung his cheeks and forehead, feeling around blindly for the two officers. Nothing... A sick feeling of dread filled him as he realized what had probably happened. Transporters! Those two got beamed up and I didn't...if the storm was already interfering, it's probably impossible by now. Nevertheless, he reached for his comm and tried it anyway. "McCoy to Enterprise...come in, Enterprise. I'm still down here! Come in!" Only static replied.

He sighed. Well, they'll figure it out when you don't appear. Too bad there's nothing they can do until this blizzard ends. Could be hours, even days. Leonard peeked out from behind his hands, wincing as cold ice filled his eyes. It's got to be 25 below at least...I'm not dressed for these temperature! I don't even know where I am! "Well, that's not true, Lenny boy. You're on Fynthas." He chuckled to himself. "Fat lot of good that does you."

The sky answered him with a loud rumble of thunder. Thunder means lightning. Must find shelter. He crawled forward slowly through the snow, straining against the wind, dragging his bag behind him. The ground sloped downwards, and he lost his balance, tumbling head over heels to the bottom, landing face first in the snow. He lay there for a few seconds, then pushed himself up, sputtering and coughing. A sharp pain lanced his side, and he clutched it, gasping. Probably cracked a rib when I fell. At least this ridge blocks the wind. He rolled over onto his back. A second bank of dark clouds swirled ahead of him. Not for long... He slowly eased himself up, pushing against the pain, and stood to his feet. Gotta keep moving...McCoy trudged through the bitterly cold snow, one hand grabbing the right side of his chest. The ground was white everywhere he looked; snow drifts came up to his knees. Suddenly, his earlier joke about being buried in snow by Jim didn't seem so funny anymore. What a way to go...I'm a doctor, not a freezie.

Just as he reached the next ridge, the incoming front hit him, knocking him flying backwards onto his back into the snow. He groaned and blinked several times. Is it just me, or is the sky getting darker? A crunching sound to the left of his head made him turn to look. A shadowy figure stood near him. Jim? The black clouds filled his vision and he knew nothing.

McCoy woke to cold and silence. He opened his eyes slowly; blurry shapes danced on the ceiling. Ceiling? Where am I? He shivered and blinked, teeth chattering. A rough blanket covered his body, but it didn't make him feel any warmer. He squirmed sideways, trying to make himself more comfortable, but that only aggravated his ribs.

"Ahhh..." His head turned from side to side, making him dizzy. As he shut his eyes again, he felt something damp and furry brush his forehead. It felt soothing, like something a nurse would do. He relaxed and breathed more evenly, feeling the tension leave his muscles. The soft object smoothed his hair back gently, then reached down towards his chest and pulled the blanket up higher under his chin before walking away.

"Th-thank you." He tried to catch a glimpse of his caregiver, but he felt so weak and tired. I'm sick...if I were my own doctor, I'd say shut up and sleep. So... He squeezed his eyes shut and succumbed to his fatigue.

Hours later, he awoke to the sound of his own screaming. Gorn...Gorn...they're everywhere! In the cave...that shifty- eyed one...the one that stares into your soul...coming closer- Sweat poured down his face. His lips trembled, and his breathing came rapidly. Everything was on fire.

"Burning...burning..." The same figure that had approached him earlier came closer. He reached up and grabbed a handful of their cloak. "Don't you see-it's coming to-" He gasped as the person packed snow on his legs and arms, then sighed as he realized how good it felt. "Mmm...mmnnum..." A small spoon approached his lips, and he parted them out of instinct, sipping a broth that tasted faintly like celery. More spoonfuls followed; Leonard drank until his eyes became heavy again.

He fell asleep and awoke several times over the next few days, always to the same figure adjusting his blanket, or giving him more broth, or touching his arm comfortingly when he suffered from nightmares. Sometimes, the chill of snow alleviated the burning heat of his skin. Though his nurse was oddly silent, he found reassurance in their presence. It was the one constant he had left, besides pain and weakness. Everything will be okay...it's all right. All thoughts of samples and snowstorms and the Enterprise flew out of his head. Just get better...stronger...

Occasionally, he saw flickers from the light of a fire dancing on the cave walls, and reached out a hand to touch the glowing shapes. It was kind of pretty, in a feverish, chilly way. Other times, he was too exhausted and dizzy to watch anything move anywhere, so he spent those moments trying to be still and not think. When he did think, his mind ran around in feverish circles, taunting him with tasks uncompleted and moments that had already passed. Don't think...don't worry...focus on breathing...

"Signal's coming from in here."

McCoy squinted as light flooded the room, letting in a flurry of light snowflakes. "Close the...door." He sat up from the ground, coughing. "You'll let in a draft." Two dark shapes moved towards him, past the fire, which was now reduced to a cold pile of ashes. They dropped down next to his pallet and reached into their bags. A hand pressed against his chest, pushing him back down. A soft clicking sound preceded a tiny point of light that shone into his eyes, while a small object ran back and forth above his body.

"Don't move, Leonard. We'll get you out of here. Captain! In here!" One of the people, who McCoy now recognized as Medical Technician Shiloh, glanced briefly over his shoulder before returning his gaze to the tricorder readings. "Possible pneumonia in both lungs, and I think he hit his head, too."

A third figure burst through the flap of fabric that covered the door, skidding to his side in a flash. "Bones!" The medical techs moved out of his way and began unfolding a collapsible hammock-style stretcher. Kirk dropped down to the ground. His cheeks were flushed from the cold. "I don't believe it. You're alive." He squeezed McCoy's shoulder. "Everybody thought..."

McCoy held up a hand to silence him. "Yeah, well, they were almost right." He coughed several times, covering his mouth with his hands. Kirk clapped him on the back until he stopped. "That freak storm must've messed up the transporter. Where exactly am I, anyway?"

"Ten miles from the beam-out location. You've been missing for over a week. "

McCoy gaped at him. "A week?!"

Kirk nodded. "Storm lasted eight days. It finally calmed down about three hours ago." The captain stood up, frowning. "As I said, nobody held out much hope for your...y-your...and we were going to leave, but, uh, Spock suggested an in-depth analysis of the unique weather patterns would more than make up for our truncated research opportunity." He moved out of the way as the techs approached him, laying the stretcher down next to his pallet.

Bless his heart. "You concurred, I assume?" Hands rolled him sideways and onto the stretcher. He felt his body lift up off the ground and begin moving towards the mouth of the cave.

Kirk smirked. "Natch." He pushed the flap of fabric out of the way as McCoy and the techs exited into the light. "How'd you make it so far in the storm, anyway?"

McCoy shook his head. "I don't know, but I think somebody carried me to the cave. Looked after me, too. I was pretty sick at first."

Kirk shook his head, following the stretcher. "You must've been hallucinating. Nobody lives up here permanently."

Shiloh pulled out his comm. "Shiloh to sickbay. We've located Doctor McCoy alive..."

"Nobody? Well, somebody sure saved my butt." McCoy let his arms hang down at his sides. "Granted, I did have a few fever dreams – mostly about Gorn – but how could I possibly dream up a rescuer? Or a fire? You saw the ashes."

"I suppose. Maybe it was one of those Kalwe holdouts. A scout or something." Kirk tapped his lower lip with one finger, stopping as something occurred to him. "Hey...he didn't try to touch your face and me- nah, that's ridiculous." He leaned over and exchanged a few words with the other tech.

A cool breeze blew over the doctor's face, and he smiled, taking as deep a breath as he could. "Ahh, fresh air." His nose twitched. "Achoo!"

Kirk looked over his shoulder, then turned and stared at McCoy's uniform. A chuckle rolled up from his throat. "Hey, Bones, you're shedding." He picked up something light and dangled it in the air.

"What?" He touched his uniform shirt and brought his hand in front of his face. Long, wispy, grey hairs covered his palm. He looked down at his chest. More loose hairs were scattered about on his body. Where did...my rescuer...it couldn't be...well, maybe there is something to those old legends, after all... "Huh...well, I'll be..." He turned his head and looked up at the captain as the transporter beam surrounded the four of them. "Hey, Jim, I think I may have found your wumyo after all..."
 
Evacuation

The sudden appearance of red lights everywhere is never a good sign. And when it's combined with an ear-splitting siren and what is supposed to be a calm, reassuring voice giving instructions over an intercom, you can be pretty sure something's up. Like the end of a world as we know it.

The sudden cacophony interrupted a particularly good cup of coffee. Now, Leonard was a doctor, not a connoisseur of fine brews, but the cup he clasped in both hands as all hell broke loose filled his lungs with an aroma about as wonderful as you could wish for. So it caused him no small amount of angst when the warning sirens jerked him out of his reverie, sending the fragile china mug spiralling to the floor with a barely perceptible crash.

His hands shook as he brought them to his ears, attempting to drown out the blaring noise. What in tarnation is going on? He lifted his eyes from the table, watching crowds of Olaikins emptying out of the large bowl-shaped lobby of the Olaika Cultural Archive. Part museum, part library, the building was an impressive feat of advanced architecture that still managed to include several tasteful nods to earlier eras.

He studied the passing Olaikin more closely. Fear and confusion covered the evacuees' gray, wizened faces as they passed quickly by his table, many of them seeming to take no notice of the odd-looking stranger that had captured their interest only two minutes ago. Leonard slid out of the too-small chair and table combo that reminded him of classroom desks he'd squeezed into in medical school, wincing as the narrow space between seat and prop bar pinched his hip. He cast a final forlorn gaze at the spilled coffee before scanning the room for signs of danger. Crowds moved this way and that between exits, but they all seemed to be crossing the room without being impeded by any obstacles other than each other. The orange-clad security guard who'd stopped him on the way in shouted into a small ring on her left thumb, presumably a communication device. A woman carried a young child in each arm, towing a third who lagged behind her, looking up at the large glass pinwheel-shaped window above.

He fumbled for his comm, swearing when his hand missed his belt and hit empty air instead. Whipping it out on the second try, he switched it on. "Jim!" he shouted. "Jim, where are you? Spock. Come in. Somebody I know come in!"

"Sulu here, Doctor." The helmsman's familiar voice was a relief to hear. "I'm on echelon 5, in the botanical library. Well, uh..." he chuckled, "actually, under it. There's a small glass greenhouse area in the floor – one of the students let me in about half an hour ago." Light tapping sounds underscored his words. "There's some great stuff in here; like an emerald green flowers that's three feet-"

McCoy frowned as another Olaikin jostled past him. "Yeah, Hikaru, I'm sure it's beautiful. Listen, do you have any idea why everybody's running out of here like scared rabbits?" A man grabbed him by the arm roughly and shoved him in the direction of a smaller hallway off the lobby decorated with children's artwork. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going!" he bristled, turning back to his comm as the Olaika man released his vice grip. "Sorry. So what's going on?"

"Dunno. Maybe someone pulled the fire alarm. One of the sprinklers up here has been activated." The tapping sounds grew louder as Sulu apparently held the comm up to the glass ceiling.

"Well, whatever it is, we should probably go." McCoy pushed through a heavy door and headed down a flight of winding stairs. "Do you know where the main exit is in this building? I can't find a map or anything in this crazy place. Don't think I'd even know what one looks like."

Silence from the other end. McCoy chuckled. "Quit looking at the daisies, Lieutenant, and help a guy out." His laugh died in his throat as he stepped into an arch-high puddle. He looked up. No sprinkler heads stuck out of the ceiling above. "Hikaru, it's wet down here, too. I don't think it's the fire sprinklers." He splashed through the puddles towards a glass window and pressed his face to the pane, gaping as a large white eel swam past outside. Have mercy...if that's a lower floor... He peered down the staircase. Water climbed the steps steadily.

His comm crackled. Rattling sounds, and then a crash as glass broke. "Come...on. No!" Water rushed in the background. "The whole place's flooding fast, Doctor. Water pressure's too high, I can't get out!"

"I know." McCoy watched several aquatic pods shoot past the window, no doubt the Olaikin evacuees who had left the building a long time ago. And probably Jim and Spock, too. He kicked at the wall, pulling back just before his foot made contact. Turning, he bolted back up the staircase in the direction he'd come. "Climb as high up as you can. I'm coming for you. Where exactly are you, anyway?"

"South wing of the building. It's a little room shaped like a dome. Oof!" Thump. "I'm sitting on top of one of the sample storage shelves. Water's already about a quarter of the way up."

A very inconvenient door gave way to McCoy's fist as he sloshed through it, feeling the cold water lap at his ankles. "Good. Don't move, and stay on the comm." He switched channels. "Jim!" he barked. "Say something."

"Banana," a muffled voice replied. "I hope your aquapod has cushier seats than mine, Bones. My backside's getting nu-"

"Blast it all, I'm not in an aquapod, I'm still at the archives!" McCoy shivered as the cold temperature of the water sent chills up his spine.

"What? Bones, what are you still doing there?" Kirk's tone turned serious.

The doctor reached the next landing quickly, his breathing rapid. "Going for a little swim, that's what! Sulu got himself trapped in a tank that's rapidly filling with seawater, and if I don't get him out, we'll both drown!"

"Sulu? I haven't been able to reach everybody yet. Is he all right?" Kirk asked.

"Yes, for now," McCoy stopped in front of a second door. "I just wish somebody would tell me why this is happening. What kind of idiots would build an archive underwater?" He pushed on the exit, but this one didn't budge. He swore and tried again. And again. And again.

"Look, I don't know what they were thinking, either." Kirk sighed. "Here's what I've managed to piece together on the ride; three weeks ago, this continent experienced unprecedented seismic activity. Several buildings were damaged, including the one you're in now. They were still in the process of doing structural assessments when political pressure forced them to re-open the Archive. You know, one guy leaning on another. But nobody-"

McCoy kicked the door hard, falling backwards on his backside with a splash. "Yeah, I know, nobody thought to tell us. Great. Look, I need another way to get to echelon 5. Door's stuck. You happen to download the building schematics?"

"You mean the map?"

"Not the tourist thing. The blueprints." He stood up, shaking off excess water.

"Yeah. Okay, so you're where?"

"South stairs. Two floors below the main."

"Let me see...oh, that's good. There's an air vent for the climate control system just above your head. It's a little tight, but fairly easy to open."

McCoy looked up. A slightly rusty grate overhead was missing a screw. "I see it." Reaching up, he grabbed the bars and pulled down on them as hard as he could. He jumped up in the air and let the weight of his suspended body strain the grate until it flipped open with a loud creak, setting his feet back on the wet floor. Thank the Lord for bad maintenance, he thought. Wait a minute, that's what got us into this mess in the first place... He shook his hands in the air and rubbed them together, preparing to climb up into the vent.

As he pulled himself up and into the ductwork, the sides of the vent pressed against his body.

"It's kind of a tight squeeze, though," Kirk added.

No kidding. Leonard felt as though he was being squeezed through a sausage casing. I'm a doctor, not a bratwurst. "I'm in. Where do I go?" His head scraped the ceiling of the duct, flaking rust off and onto his scalp.

"Straight ahead about a hundred feet, then to the right thirty feet. There's another vent there that opens into the hallway on echelon four. From there, you should be able to take the stairs the rest of the way."

"Great. Talk to you when I'm out." McCoy wriggled down the duct slowly, trying not to injure himself. It didn't work; he could feel sharp bits of metal poking his skin. Gonna need a tetanus shot on top of everything else. He coughed twice. Please don't be asbestos... The awful groaning noise he kept hearing as the duct carried his weight wasn't very reassuring, either. Any moment, he expected to come crashing through the ceiling. No wonder they never fix these things. Who'd want to spend any amount of time up here?

Thankfully, when he reached the junction, there was a little more room to move. That must've been an auxiliary shaft. He crawled on his hands and knees towards the vent and released a sticky latch from the inside. The door flipped open, and he lowered his body to the ground slowly, wincing as his torn uniform caught on the scrapes he'd suffered. He looked up and down the watery hallway. Several well-lit rooms lined each side of the corridor, labelled by metal plates engraved in calligraphic script. A small bay window at one end of the hall looked out onto a coral reef garden. Several of the window panes were cracked; seawater trickled in steadily. On the opposite end, he spied the exit door and ran for it, throwing all his weight against it. The door gave way, and he barrelled down the stairs to the next echelon, stopping in an identical hallway to the one he'd just been in.

McCoy put his hands on his knees and gripped his comm tightly. "Okay, Jim, I made it. Now what? All these doors look alike."

"Seventh one on your left! And you'd better hurry. I just spoke to Sulu. He said the room was half full, and then his comm cut out."

McCoy switched channels as he hurried towards the botany library door. "Sulu. Sulu, status!" Static replied. "I can't get ahold of him either, Jim. That's not a good sign." He entered his visitor code into the door lock and it glowed bright yellow before letting him into the dark room.

He gaped as cold water rushed past his legs. McCoy struggled to stay upright. The water level inside the room was now waist-high. If it's this bad in the archive, then the greenhouse- He didn't let himself finish the grim thought. Several of the interactive computer displays were non-functional. He waded into the room, fighting against the current. As he stepped into the center of the room, carpeted floor gave way to tempered glass. "Jim. I found the greenhouse." He kicked the metal frame of the structure's roof, gasping when his foot went right through a large pane. He pulled it out, watching the water escape the room and continue to fill the glass enclosure at a faster rate. "But I don't see Sulu anywhere. I'm going in." Lowering himself down into the water, he sucked in a deep breath and dropped through the gap.

Salt stung his eyes and lips as he ducked under the water in search of the missing helmsman. He swam through the current with short, choppy strokes, fighting against the whirling current. As he did so, he dragged his hand along the edge of the wall, feeling for the shelving unit Hikaru had mentioned earlier, resisting the urge to call out his name and thus fill his lungs with water. His fingers brushed several specimens of plant life, including some kind of cactus, before resting on something cool and smooth. Pulling his body towards the shelf, he kicked until the bottom of his boot made contact, climbing upward slowly.

As he reached the top, he surfaced, letting out a gasp of stale air and dragging in what remaining fresh oxygen the room held. He floated there for a moment before the dull yellow of a command level uniform caught his eye, floating just beyond his reach. There! Sulu lay facedown in the water, his sweater barely visible in the dim light. In two seconds, he slid his left arm around the limp lieutenant's waist, using his right arm to pull them both towards the window.

He pushed Sulu through the hole first, then pulled himself up and over onto the floor of the library, dragging the man towards the open door and out into the hallway. Propping him up against the wall, he assessed his condition. Sulu's face was blue, and his chest was still. McCoy pressed two fingers to his neck, relieved when he felt a pulse. Can't lay him on the floor... He turned the lieutenant until his body was facing the wall and pressed hard on his back, trying to expel the water he'd inhaled. "Come on, Sulu. Breathe for me. Come on." He continued this for about thirty seconds, but it felt like hours. C'mon, gravity, cut me a break here...

With a loud gasp, Sulu choked up seawater, coughing and sputtering, eyes squinted shut. That's the best sound I've heard in a long time. The doctor clapped him on the back with one hand, supporting his weight with the other. "You all right, Hikaru?"

"I-I think so." Sulu smiled weakly at him. "How l-long was I under?" Another coughing fit ensued.

McCoy eyed him worriedly. "Five minutes, max. You can thank Jim I found you in time. If it weren't for his curiosity, we wouldn't even be having this conversation." McCoy reached for his comm. "Jim, I found him. Swallowed a little water, but alive. Are they still loading the aquapods?"

"Great, and no. The last one left a few minutes ago."

Of course it did. "Lovely." He turned to Sulu, his mouth drooping. "Looks like we'll have to head for the lobby. Transport won't be possible this deep underwater. Think you can make it? We might have to take the ventil-"

Sulu held up a hand. "Give me the comm." McCoy complied, handing his device over to Sulu, who nodded once at him. Reaching for his medical tricorder, he began to scan him, noting with satisfaction that his respiration was levelling out.

Sulu ignored him, turning to face the wall, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. "Captain, how close is the aquapod bay to our location?"

"Three levels down; it's the whole floor. You're not planning on swimming out, are you? We're talking Navy SEAL depths here."

"Relax, sir. We'll be fine. Sulu out." He switched off the comm and turned to face McCoy. "Let's go."

McCoy followed him towards the opposite end of the hallway. He pointed over his shoulder. "Stairs are that way."

Sulu looked back at him, not stopping until he stood before a set of sliding doors. "We're not taking the stairs." He flipped open a wall panel and activated the door controls. Both men peered down the empty elevator shaft as water drained into it.

McCoy shook his head. "No way. First rule of safety is never use the elevator in an emergency." He chuckled humourlessly. "Funny, I'd think you'd want to avoid confined spaces after what happened in there."

"I'm not planning to use it." Sulu's eyes flicked upwards. "Car's on an upper level. We're going down the shaft." He leaned forward. "Cable still looks solid. Sliding down it should be fairly easy."

The doctor blinked. "Sliding down? As in, down down?" Sulu nodded. "Three flights down?"

"Uh huh. Unless you want to jump, Doctor." Sulu cocked his head to one side.

Yeah, right. McCoy held both hands palms up. "No, no. Sliding's good." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Attaboy. I'll even go first to show you it's all right. Take my arm." He leaned forward, reaching for the cable with one hand, as McCoy grabbed his opposite arm, bracing himself against the near wall. "Okay, let go!" McCoy released him, closing his eyes and listening for sounds he dreaded; a scream and the sickening crack of a broken body. Instead, silence, and then a low, slow squeak as Sulu disappeared down the slack end of the cable into the wet darkness below.

McCoy tiptoed closer to the edge of the shaft just as Sulu landed with a quiet splash. "Made it. Your turn," he called, his voice echoing off the walls.

"Coming." He shivered, straining to see the helmsman's silhouette in order to confirm that he really had made it. Water dripped onto his head from somewhere above the elevator car. "Uh, new plan; how about I take the stairs and meet you there?"

"There's no time. Stairs could be further compromised. It's now or never." Right. How about never? "Come on. I'll spot you," Sulu continued.

McCoy hesitated, trying to think of another plan. At that moment, a loud crumbling sound caused him to look over his shoulder. Chunks of drywall crashed to the ground. On second thought... Backing up against the far wall, he took a running leap into the elevator shaft, striking the touch panel as he went by. He flailed around for a few seconds before gaining a solid grip on the cable. "Ahh! Okay, I'm coming now!" He closed his eyes and loosened his grip, waiting for the pull of gravity to take him downwards.

Instead, he felt his body being pulled upward. He looked up and saw the cable rising slowly. "Sulu! It's going up!"

"Up? What did you do?"

"I don't know! Press the button!" McCoy grabbed onto the cable for dear life and held his breath as the car continued to climb.

"No good! I can't get it to reverse! You'll have to jump!"

"JUMP?! From this height? Are you kidding me?" The words were barely out of his mouth before a loud crash reverberated through the shaft. Metal fragments rained down on McCoy. "What the..." His heart stopped as an eerie snapping sound filled his ears. The elevator car shifted sideways under the weight of debris. No. Don't tell me...

"Sulu! Get out of the way! Car's falling!" McCoy let go of the cable and flew down the shaft, feeling cool air rush by him as he fell. Try as he might, he couldn't help recalling the fact that objects with a different mass were supposed to land at the same time. His body hit the water with a loud splash and bounded out of the shaft just as the elevator car slammed into the floor, splashing water everywhere. His body collided with Sulu's, sending them both to the ground in a heap. "Ooof!"

McCoy rolled over onto his side, struggling to catch his breath while Sulu remained sprawled out on his back. Pushing himself to his feet, he offered the lieutenant a hand up. "Did I hurt you?"

Sulu shook his head, smiling as he brushed off his uniform. "If I'd known we were going to be playing tackle football, I'd have worn some padding. That was a close one."

You can say that again. McCoy burst out laughing as another though hit him.

Sulu frowned. "What's so funny?"

McCoy looked over his shoulder at the elevator. "I just find it a little ironic that I travelled millions of lightyears from Earth only to nearly be hit by a car."

"Ah. I see."

Leonard stared past him to the large empty bay before them. Several docking stations lay vacant, presumably having held aquapods prior to the evacuation. Various computer stations were scattered across the room; toolkits lay open where techs had abandoned them. "So what's this surefire plan of yours, anyway? We gonna pop open the doors and find a whale to ride?" He looked back and saw nobody. "Sulu?"

He turned around. The helmsman was halfway across the bay already, striding purposefully towards a dark shadow in the opposite corner. Why can't you stay in one place for more than two seconds? Throwing up his hands, he jogged through the shallow puddles, coming to a stop just as Sulu began to pull on the corner of a large tarp.

Sulu waved. "Help me out."

McCoy obliged, yanking until the tarp gave way. They pulled it down towards the ground, revealing a small bubble-shaped craft that looked barely big enough for one man, let alone two. He frowned at Sulu. "How'd you know this was here?"

"Lucky guess." Sulu squeezed the handle of the craft, pulling the door open with a soft pop and stepping inside. "No, seriously, though. I overheard two Olaikin archivists this morning, discussing a new addition to the flight holosimulator. My guess is this baby's on loan so they can scan it and upload schematics, realistic flight data, etcetera." He slid into the driver's seat, patting the passenger side chair next to him.

McCoy ducked inside and squeezed into the surprisingly soft seat as Sulu activated the seatbelts by pressing a small button on the side of his chair. As he buckled his up, he frowned. "Uh, aren't you forgetting something?" He tapped the dome window with his finger. "Waterlock's closed."

Sulu studied the controls before him, his face relaxing. "No problem. This interface looks fairly simple. I think this might..." He tapped an icon on the touchscreen, nodding as the large bay doors whirred apart. "Integrated controls. Nice." He pressed a series of icons and the engine began to rumble. "Here we go." He stuck up one thumb as the small craft slowly rose from the ground. "Hang on, Doctor."

"I will. It's not my first shuttle ride, y'-KNOW!" McCoy lurched forward as the craft accelerated quickly, moving forward into the ocean with a rapid oscillating motion. He couldn't tell which way was up as his view switched back and forth between water and reef and water again.

"Wasn't expecting this!" Sulu shouted, working the steering controls with both hands. "Sweet!"

McCoy gripped the sides of the cockpit, bouncing up and down in his seat. His stomach flip-flopped. "W-which way is up?"

Sulu arced the craft left to avoid a tall column of orange coral. "Not important. Just keep your eyes on a fixed point, like the sensor screen." He dipped underneath a low arch, disturbing a school of silvery fish, leaving a cloud of white foam in his wake.

McCoy tried it for a few seconds, jerking his head upwards as a large black finned creature swam by them. "Do you even know where we're going?" He pressed one hand to his mouth as bile rose in his throat.

Sulu didn't answer. Instead, he hugged the edge of the reef before dropping their ship into the expanse below. Ahead, the peak of an undersea volcano vented up towards the surface.

McCoy hiccupped, feeling his stomach fall with it. "Sulu?"

Sulu reached for his comm with one hand and tossed it to McCoy. "Catch. I can't steer and call." He returned his steady gaze to the sensors.

McCoy grabbed the device and switched it on. "Jim. Come in. Where are you?" Static crackled for a few seconds. He hit the comm against the wall.

"Bones? Where are you? We're at the evacuation centre with the other Olaikin." Jim shouted to be heard over the drone of a crowd in the background. "Could always use another doctor here. They're expecting more aftershocks in the next several hours."

"Yeah, well, I'm afraid we're going to be fashionably late." As the ship flew up towards the steep peak, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. "I'll let you know if my stomach survives the trip. McCoy out."
 
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Heights

One blasted adrenaline rush after another. I'll be lucky if I can fall asleep tonight.

Leonard McCoy pressed one finger against a small screen, watching as a pale blue light glimmered against his skin before turning green. "All right, I cleared. Can I have my treat now?"

The dimpled elderly woman behind the counter passed him a multi-colored frozen concoction on a slender stick. "Enjoy the best of what Seula has to offer, Doctor." She reached down behind the counter and passed him a napkin. "Careful, it's dripping."

McCoy accepted both ice pop and napkin. As he backed away from the booth, he bumped into a man carrying a small child in each arm. "Sorry," he muttered, but the man didn't seem to notice him; he was too busy refereeing an argument between his two charges. Leonard ducked as a thrown drinking straw sailed through the air over his head. The father barked something at them in Seulan and they shut up immediately. Guess that really was "the last straw", he mused, taking a large bite from his pop.

At first, cool sweetness ran down his tongue and lips, and he savoured the rush of cold on a sunny day.

It didn't last long.

Fire kindled in the back of his throat and spread through every nerve in his mouth. It was as though he'd drunk gasoline and swallowed a match. He began to cough violently, alternated with panting and gasping. The pop dropped from his hand and landed on the ground as he bent over at the waist and brought both hands to his head, squinting. Heaven and hell on a stick...I should've known.

"I don't blame you. Var-tel's an acquired taste." McCoy's head jerked upwards. Jim leaned against a brightly colored interactive signpost, holding a pink glass bottle in one hand. His expression turned serious. "You okay, Bones?"

McCoy dragged in a single breath, then another. "What? No smart remarks about the fire-breathing doctor?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

Kirk held up one hand in a gesture of surrender. "Nope. Just this." He handed the bottle to McCoy, who looked at it as if it might contain poison. "Relax. It's just spring water. No surprises. I promise."

McCoy unscrewed the cap and drained the bottle in one long swig. A pleasant cool sensation filled his mouth again, with just a tang of dissolved salt tickling his tastebuds. "Phew. If I never have one of those again, it'll be too soon. They oughta call it an 'inferno-sicle'." He frowned. "Wait. You said it was an 'acquired taste'. Don't tell me you acquired it."

"Nah. It was in the visitor's guide." He spread his hands wide. "I actually haven't eaten anything since we landed. I mean, this isn't the sort of place you want to visit on a full stomach, am I right?"

"Amen to that." McCoy walked over to a bench underneath a tall purple tree and sat down, Kirk following.

Adrenaline was practically a religion to the Seulans. Their entire planet was covered with attractions that promised one thrill after another, each one boasting that it was the ultimate experience. The shuttleboat driver who'd escorted the Enterprise visitors to the Irel Adventure Park had employed a series of high speed evasive manoeuvres that rivalled the worst simulator exercises McCoy'd experienced at the academy for degree of sheer terror. There were no seats, restraints or handholds in the passenger section; instead, the walls were covered with shock-absorbing foam so passengers could bounce around inside. Some of the crew didn't seem to mind, laughing it off; others looked a little pale. Kirk was staggering about, laughing. Before he could check Jim for a concussion, he'd disappeared through the gates. McCoy had double-checked himself to make sure he wasn't missing any parts. He'd stifled a laugh when he'd caught Spock doing the same thing, but the Vulcan's hearing was too keen to avoid noticing.

"Prime Directive aside, I find I am tempted to question the recklessness of his driving." Spock raised an eyebrow as he watched a line of Seulans boarding the boat for a return trip. The driver stood by the ramp, holding out a passage confirmation tablet for them to touch.

McCoy had arched a brow back. "I'm tempted to tell him what he can do with that tub."

Before either man could give in to their respective temptations, however, they were pushed through the doors of the park by an eager crowd of Starfleet officers and Seulans alike. The three hours that followed was pure fear, interspersed by a few moments of waiting for the next horrifying experience. Between a roller coaster that was part Mobius strip, part rocket car to an underwater glass-enclosed Ferris wheel filled with carnivorous fish, McCoy's heart had gotten a thorough workout.

A light breeze stirred McCoy's hair. He leaned against the bench's wooden back. "They oughta call this place 'Phobialand'. I'm surprised this bench hasn't begun to fly away with us."

"Maybe it's got an ejector seat," Kirk suggested.

"Heh, heh. Yeah." McCoy yawned, covering his mouth with one hand. "I think I'm ready for a nap. You?"

The captain stared at McCoy as if he'd just grown wings. "Are you kidding? We've only seen half the park. There's a whole other section on the west side of the island, just over the mountains." His eyes fairly glowed. Like a kid on Christmas morning. "They've got this one ride where you're freefalling through virtual space and you have to destroy projectiles-"

"Hold it." McCoy held up a hand. "I'm a doctor, not a starship. If you want to cheat death for kicks, I can't stop you. Lord knows I've tried. But I'd rather keep all my limbs, thank you very much."

Kirk nodded. "Okay. That's cool. Stay here." He crossed his arms and walked over to the edge of the tiled walkway nearby. "If you want to miss the game, be my guest."

I know I shouldn't ask, but... "What game?" McCoy leaned forward, propping his chin on one hand.

Kirk unwrapped a small blue candy and popped it in his mouth. "Oh, nothing. Just the final round of a big toverget tournament, that's all. Nothing you'd be interested in."

"Says who?" He'd had the pleasure of watching two teams of tovergetars in action last night at a banquet given in their honor. The sport was a combination of American football, wrestling, and swimming, all in a reduced gravity environment. McCoy had been on the edge of his seat the entire time. After a long, intense battle, the white team had won, much to the doctor's satisfaction. Mr. Scott was decidedly less thrilled about the outcome; he'd lost a bet to a Seulan aide and a crate of whiskey along with it. "Who's playing?"

"Kyre-suhung versus Wtauvely," Kirk replied, naming two Seulan territories. "A grudge match tiebreaker." The candy rattled against his teeth as he turned and grinned at McCoy. "Did I mention it's the women's league?"

Oh, for crying out loud... "Fine. I'll go." He shook one finger in Kirk's face. "And just for the record, you already convinced me before that last part." McCoy shoved his hands in his pockets. "So. A, how do we get there, and B, will I live to regret it?"

Kirk cracked his knuckles. "A, a cable car will take us over the mountain. As for B..." They headed across the park together in the direction of the gates, the captain briefly stopping to pitch his candy wrapper.

"Hold it. A what now?"

Kirk threw his arm around the doctor's shoulders. "Trust me. You'll regret it more if we don't go."

"I don't care how lovely the view is up close. I can see it just fine from over here." Leonard crossed his arms over his chest and wiggled backwards in his seat until he was almost molded to the shape of the cable car's corner. He opened one eye and gazed toward the opposite end where Kirk had his nose pressed to the window. They had the whole thing to themselves, surprisingly. The car was entirely made of thick, clear glass, tapering at the ceiling like a triangular prism; small vents filled each corner. Green seats that were slightly softer than a concrete block surrounded the inside so that passengers could look down at the mountains below through the transparent floor. Each of the cars was separated by a few hundred feet.

"All you can see is the inside of your eyelids, Bones. Quit being such a chicken and come look. It's spectacular." Kirk slid off his chair and stood up, throwing his hands in the air. "There's a crater lake below, and the water's this really weird shade of yellow..." A strange look came over his face, and he stood in the middle of the car, feet spread apart, and rocked back and forth, causing the car to shift with his weight.

"Stop that!" McCoy braced his arms against the walls, feeling his stomach slosh. "Have you gone off your rocker, Jim? We're in a big glass box, suspended miles above the ground...can't you just SIT down and enjoy yourself without killing me in the process?!" His throat felt tight with panic as he focused on regulating his breathing. The one ride on this blasted planet that actually goes straight and slow...

Jim stopped rocking, but the car took a little longer to lose momentum. His face softened. "Sorry. No, I mean really." He crossed the floor and sat down beside McCoy, staring down through the floor at the mountains below. "I know thrills aren't your thing." Jim clapped McCoy on the back. "But, I gotta hand it to you. Between the coaster and that tractor beam bungee thing, I don't think you puked once."

McCoy smiled hesitantly. "Came darn close, though." He sighed. "I guess as long as we're going to be up here for a while, I might as well make some progress." He lowered his head slowly, following Kirk's gaze.

"Attaboy."

A large bowl-shaped crevice opened up beneath them. Surrounded by craggy red rocks, it resembled a large, hungry mouth ready to swallow them whole. Inside the basin, frothy banana-yellow water lapped and foamed; several small birds swooped down towards the water, skimming the surface but never quite touching it. It is kinda beautiful, in a frightening way... McCoy reached into his pocket and removed a small holo-camera, raising it to eye level. He laughed as he caught Jim's surprised look out of the corner of his eye. "Well, it makes a lovely picture."

Kirk shrugged. Suddenly, he dropped to his hands and knees, rolled onto his back and wriggled into the camera's view. "Hey, take one of me."

McCoy pulled the camera down to the end of his nose. "Seriously?"

"As a heart attack," Jim replied, spreading his arms out. "If this glass wasn't so smeared, it'd look like I'm flying-

"-Or falling-"

"-but I'm sure you could fix that in an image editing program or something."

McCoy shook his head. "You're incorrigible," he growled good-naturedly.

"C'mon, less vocabulary lesson, more snap. My face is gonna freeze like this," Kirk urged, holding a smile.

You mean it hasn't already? But Leonard said nothing, just raised the holo-camera back up and took the shot. As he did, a bright flash of light appeared in the corner of the image. "Huh? What was that?"

Kirk stood up, brushing his clothes off. "What was what?"

McCoy passed him the camera, then pointed behind Kirk through the back window. "A bright flash of light. Over there."

The captain sat down on one of the chairs. "Probably just a reflection from the sun."

"Sunlight? It's overcast." McCoy passed Kirk on the way to the back of the car and looked back into the distance. He could just make out the next cable car, a tiny dark shape. Must've imagined it. "It's noth-" He stopped himself as another twinkle of light appeared. "Jim, c'mere. Bring the camera."

Kirk crossed the car in two large strides and passed the device to him. "What is it?"

"Not sure." Enabling the zoom feature, he pointed the camera at the distant car. He could make out its familiar shape as it traveled along the cable. Several agitated passengers were pressed against the glass. They seemed to be trying to get a view of the car's mechanism. McCoy followed their worried looks upwards and nearly dropped the camera.

Glowing orange flames licked at the wheel track; thick dark smoke billowed into the sky. McCoy swore under his breath. "Car's on fire!"

"Let me see." Jim pulled the camera from McCoy's hand and looked briefly. "Whoa, that's not good. Especially this far up in the air." He dropped the camera into a nearby seat and put his hands on his hips, thinking, gaze darting between the floor and the burning car.

"Not good for us, either. If the heat snaps that cable, we'll all go down." Even as he said it, McCoy's stomach lurched. He felt around the door in vain for a handle.

"The ride attendant said the car doors are programmed to stay locked so nobody can fall out." Kirk pounded the wall with a fist. "Unfortunately, it also means nobody can get out."

"There's got to be a way..." McCoy rubbed his hands together nervously. Resolve hardening his features, he grabbed his medkit and secured it to his back. He reached up and gripped a metal rail with both hands, pulling himself up off the floor. He gave the window a few good blows with both feet, stopping to catch his breath. The glass pane had barely budged. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he called, looking over his shoulder at Kirk. "Help me kick this thing loose."

Kirk hauled himself upward. "That's what I like to hear. Just never thought I'd hear it from you." Both men kicked the windowpane in unison. "I seem -to recall- doing this before. Almost- killed me." The glass made a grating sound as the top side popped out of alignment. One final good blow and it slid out of the frame and tumbled to the ground below. Kirk and McCoy let go of the railing and dropped backwards.

"Okay. Here's the deal. Car's a few hundred feet away. We'll get there using the cable. Once we've arrived, you go up on top and try to put out the fire; I'll see what I can do about calming the passengers. We've probably got smoke inhalation, some burns..." McCoy raked one hand through his hair. "...and not a lot of time to stand around chit-chatting. Let's go." He bent over and stuck his head through the empty frame, feeling a rush of cool air on his face. He pushed his upper body out and turned, climbing up the outside of their car slowly.

"Telling me what to do, Bones?" Kirk asked as he followed McCoy, his fingers trying to find purchase on the frame.

McCoy looked downwards and immediately regretted it. His vision tracked past Jim towards the crater, which seemed to rise and lower in relation to the ground before spinning. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the cool glass against his cheek, and laughed weakly. "Sure. Haven't you ever heard of 'doctor's orders'?"

In two minutes he was straddling their car, hands pressed against the roof. Behind him, the cable wheels whirred quietly inside their protective casing. McCoy closed his eyes and breathed deeply as Kirk climbed up the side, his earlier bravado all but gone. He shaded his eyes, trying to see the burning car. Smoke continued to roll away from the roof. There are people in trouble in there. You can do this.
 
Reaching one hand out into the empty space, he touched the thick cable, feeling its strength and tautness. "Still good." For now, anyway. He inched towards the edge slowly, knees pressed to the glass. Behind him, Kirk maintained his balance with more ease. Another foot forward and the doctor was astride the cable only briefly before wrapping his legs around it and surrendering to gravity with a sharp gasp. He rocked from side to side gently. The whole scenario brought back bad memories of a week- long optional boot camp exercise he'd attended on a dare or to impress a girl, he wasn't sure which. Probably because it ended badly. All he could recall was spending most of the time in the cold mud.

Sliding his hands along the cable, he drew his crossed legs towards his chest and back again, moving in the direction of the other car. "This isn't so bad...I think..." The sweaty fingers of his right hand slipped, and he blew on them. "Spoke...too soon, maybe?" he croaked.

Kirk pulled himself upward behind McCoy before letting his weight hang slack. "C'mon, Bonesy, you can do it." His teeth gritted together in concentration. "It's as...easy as falling...off a log."

Don't say that! "You picked a...heck of a time...to make a... falling joke." The possibility wasn't that unlikely; already, McCoy's arms felt like jelly. Rivulets of sweat dripped back over his scalp and towards the crater below. By now, the acrid smell of smoke was also making his nose tingle. He risked a dizzying glance back at Kirk. The captain's progress had halted just behind his own, but McCoy barely noticed as the ground below started to spin, slowly, around and around and-

"Move it, lard butt," Kirk growled, squirming forward and slapping the doctor's heel with one hand. McCoy twitched. "That's right, I'm talking to you, powder puff! Come on, let's go!"

McCoy recognized the snarl in his voice as a pretty good imitation of Commander Relat Ganis, the man who'd made his life hell that long, long week. Instinctively, he sucked in a breath and increased his pace, hand over hand and crossed legs sliding in sync with each other. "Yes, sir!"

The tight frown etched on Kirk's features disappeared, replaced by the captain's usual determined look. "There you go."

McCoy tensed his neck slightly. "'Lard butt?'"

Kirk shrugged as best as he could. "Whatever works."

Just as he was about to offer some kind of retort, the top of his head bumped up against the roof of the car. Smoke filled his nostrils, and he sneezed. Now how am I going to get inside? Should've thought that through before I shimmied over here. "Jim, we've got a prob-"

Crash! Shards of glass rained from a window pane below him. Evidently, the Seulan occupants had realized that help was coming, or perhaps they were trying to get some fresh air. Whatever the reason, the unexpected point of ingress was more than welcome. Unwrapping his legs from the cable, he let them drop, kicking back and forth in the air before swinging towards the gap. Arms reached from the inside to pull him through, and he accepted their aid with relief. Who's rescuing who? he wondered as he dropped to the floor of the car. Standing up on shaky legs, he turned and offered a thumbs-up to Jim, who nodded before pulling himself upward and onto the roof.

McCoy studied the occupants of the car through a haze of smoke. Eleven people of various ages, including five children and an elderly man, were seated on the floor, coughing, huddled together for comfort. Some of their faces were tear-streaked; most had pulled their collars up over their noses to filter out the smoke. The two who'd helped him inside were now calmly disassembling some kind of control system in the lower right corner, but judging by the worry lines on their brows, they weren't having much luck. He heard the thump of boots overhead and looked through the glass. Jim had taken off his sweater and was beating at the flames.

McCoy unstrapped the medkit from his back and dropped down to eye level, addressing the crowd. "I'm a doctor. How can I help?"

The old man he'd noticed earlier lifted his head, revealing rheumy eyes, and placed one hand over the center of his chest. "Nobody's hurt yet. Get us down." He winced, his face paling. The woman next to him, probably his daughter, squeezed his arm, fear flickering in her eyes.

McCoy removed his tricorder and began to scan the Seulan. The readings concerned him. He wasn't having a heart attack yet, but he was coming darn close. And I thought I was afraid. Wimp, he chided himself. "Try to keep him calm," he cautioned the woman. She nodded, and put an arm over his shoulder as McCoy gave him something to ease his symptoms. It wasn't very effective, but it would have to do. He wasn't familiar enough with Seulan cardiology to risk a larger dose.

"Stay where you are. If you start to feel faint, put your head between your knees." He strode to the back of the car and stuck his head out the window. "Jim. That fire out yet?"

Cough, cough. "Almost. How are things inside?"

"Smoky, but getting better. Several with smoke inhalation and one heart complication." Silence. "Jim?"

Kirk paced to the edge and met McCoy's gaze with a look that was part control, part fear. "We've got a problem. Flames ate through most of the cable grip attachment." He wiped his soot-streaked brow with one hand. "Could go at any time."

Wonderful. "Why am I not surprised one bi-" A loud groan sounded as the car rocked back and forth, sending McCoy sliding into the crowd, landing on his left hip awkwardly. He grabbed a support bar with both hands to stop gravity from pulling his body forward. His head whipped upwards just in time to see Kirk fly off the roof. "Jim!" Panic made his heart clench in his chest. After all they'd been through together, the thought of losing his best friend in a freak accident made him sick.

He almost fainted with relief as he saw two hands gripping the outer edge of the window. "Can't get rid of me that easily," Kirk chuckled weakly, one arm hooked over the pane, fingers splayed against the inside wall.

"I wish." McCoy crawled towards the window and grabbed Jim's arm tightly, pulling him up and over. "Gotcha." As Kirk kicked his leg upwards, his foot struck a grated metal panel, deploying a slender metal framework spread with mounds of billowing white fabric. "What'd you do?"

"I don't know," Kirk coughed, dusting himself off. He peered through the window. "Looks like some kind of sail."

Behind them, the two Seulan men stood up from the ground. "It's the emergency landing chute," the younger one explained. "We finally got it to deploy. If the car falls, as you say, it should glide to the ground."

The second man shook his head, gazing at the crater below. "I don't like 'should's. Give me 'already has' any day."

"I'm with you." McCoy agreed. "Unfortunately, I don't see any other way but down, do you?" He glanced back at his heart patient. Judging by the fear in the man's eyes, he doubted he'd care for either option.

The car jolted again, tipping slowly as the sails rustled in the wind. "This could be it," Kirk cautioned. "Get down as close to the ground as you can! Slowly!" The Seulans pressed themselves closer to the floor of the car, eyes closed; McCoy and Kirk did likewise.

CRACK!

He had always thought it absurd to watch depictions of freefalling in cartoons; helpless victims suspended in midair for a few seconds before stretching like taffy and dropping like a rock. It was only now that he realized the accuracy of the sensation, not so much its reality. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was prone on solid ground, all right in his world. Ha. He gritted his teeth, becoming one with the glass tiling. The cries of his fellow passengers echoed around him. Even Kirk looked as though he was beginning to doubt their chances. If we'd just stayed in our own car, we'd still be hanging safely. He dismissed the selfish thought as quickly as it came, the irony of wishing for his earlier discomfort not lost on him.

In moments, the straight drop was replaced by a gentler gliding. Air whooshed through the back of the car as the sails caught the wind, flapping like the wings of thousands of doves. They were still descending, but at a much slower pace. The crater lake only became larger as they approached it; McCoy could have picked out several striations in the rock he hadn't noticed before if he wasn't busy trying not to embarrass himself further.

After minutes of drifting in mid-air, the car landed on the surface of the water with a soft splash, dipping slightly below like a boat. Yellow foamy spray crashed through the broken window. McCoy let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. He leaned over and shook Kirk's shoulder. "We made it."

Kirk pushed himself up from the ground, shifting his feet on the wet floor to remain standing. The Seulans appeared to have heard him as well; their busy chatter filled the inside of the car.

"Everybody all right?" McCoy asked. The Seulans nodded and returned to their animated chatter. McCoy's eyes shifted to the old man. He looked a little shaky, but his breathing had evened out more. Can't say as I blame him...at least we're not falling anymore.

McCoy lifted his prone body upwards and onto a chair, flopping backwards and letting his head loll against the seat back. He cast a sly look at Kirk as he slumped sideways into the nearby seat. "I thought we were done with the thrill rides."

"So...so did I." Kirk slicked his hair back with one hand. "Hey...look." He nodded his chin towards the right side. McCoy followed his indication; a small motorized watercraft he hadn't seen from the sky was heading in their direction. "Rescue. Gotta love it." He frowned. "If we hurry, we still might make the toverget match."

Are you still thinking about that? Leonard closed his eyes to still the pounding headache that was now beginning. "Listen, Jim," he muttered, rubbing his forehead, "next time, let's just take the transporter."
 
Disease

McCoy scrutinized the instrument readout with a critical eye. Excellent...nice and level. This isn't so hard... The shuttle controls responded to his commands, moving the craft in a straight line back towards the Enterprise. He cleared his throat, and his fellow passenger shifted in her seat.

He took a moment to study the sleeping female form next to him, briefly recalling the last time he and Carol Marcus had shared a ride. Almost lost my arm...and my dignity. Tendrils of blonde hair curled under her chin, blowing lightly with each soft breath. Satisfied, he returned his gaze to the vast field of stars outside, just making out the ship as it rounded the orbit of Dareen. The pale blue misshapen planet tilted slightly on its axis; three nearly identical moons orbited it a short distance away. It was the first moon, Rei, which he and Marcus were returning from.

From the moment the Dareenir had made contact with them, there had been a whirlwind of activity. You'd think they'd never had guests before. The officer they'd initially spoken to was a perpetual motion machine disguised as a young man. On the short side, with slightly stooped shoulders, and a thatch of white hair that looked as though it had never seen a comb, the youth had regarded them with wide, excited, childlike eyes, bouncing up and down in his seat. His language was such a fluid stream of incoherent babble that even the translator had a hard time keeping track of individual words and syllables.

Eventually, he had been relieved by a senior officer, who thankfully spoke more clearly and slowly. But he, too, seemed to radiate joy. McCoy could see it in the way the man's eyes danced as he told them that they were welcome to come and exchange information and ideas.

After a brief conclave, Kirk and Spock had agreed that such a cooperative attitude was singularly uncommon, and they would be foolish not to accept. Well, that was how Spock had put it, anyway. Kirk had contacted the planet with their acceptance and had asked each department head to put together a team of representative officers.

Dressed in a freshly pressed uniform, he'd boarded the shuttlecraft along with the other medical staff, stomach growling. He'd skipped breakfast that morning to run some statistical analyses of his patient data to identify any trends that indicated potential future problems. Not surprisingly, vaccination rates and follow-up visits were lower than they should have been. He had just asked the computer to create a prioritized list of individuals when the communication had come in; between that and setting a new record for quickest shower ever; he simply hadn't had the time. Guess whose name'll be at the top of the list?

As he lowered himself into the seat between Kirk and Spock, his digestive organ let out a particularly loud grumble. "Pardon my borborygmi," he'd muttered, putting a hand over his abdomen.

Kirk made a face at him and reached down beside his seat with one hand, scrunching his eyes together. "Yeah...hang on, I think there may be a bag for that in here."

Spock looked up from his PADD in confusion. "Captain, that is the scientific term for the noise one's stomach makes when it is empty."

Silence. "I knew that..." Kirk closed the small compartment and leaned back, wiggling into the cushion. "Catch." He tossed McCoy a protein bar, and the doctor caught it. "You'll be glad you did."

"Do you expect their hospitality not to include sustenance?" Spock asked, tapping a button on the PADD. "In my experience, that is not usually the case."

Kirk's eyes closed. "Well, in my experience, said sustenance isn't always my cup of tea, if you know what I mean. Take Orync...nothing but green pellets. They said it'd taste like anything we imagined, but I kept feeling like I was eating livestock feed."

"I didn't think it was that bad, Jim. But just to be on the safe side..." McCoy waggled the protein bar and put it in his pocket.

Kirk rewarded him with a thumbs-up before pulling out a PADD of his own and putting on wireless earphones. One tap and he relaxed, the crashing sound of some metal band smashing something around beginning to play.

McCoy turned to Spock, but the officer was giving instructions to their pilot, a young Indian man with dark eyes. Realizing that neither of his seatmates were interested in discussing the trip any further, he yawned and gazed briefly around the shuttle.

About twenty or so officers filled the seats, laughing and chatting like schoolchildren going on a field trip. There was even a beanbag tribble being tossed around by three different security team members. McCoy smiled as the projectile was intercepted by Spock's right hand. The commander didn't even blink as he caught the toy, finishing his instructions, only then striding to the back of the shuttle and returning it to a red-faced redshirt, with a strong admonition that such behaviour was distracting and dangerous. The man nodded and shoved it into a small pack.

***

The shuttle trip there had been uneventful. They'd received instructions to land at a ground-based shuttleport on the east coast of the largest continent. As they descended, McCoy had looked over Kirk's dozing form out the window at the tarmac below. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

He swatted Kirk's shoulder. "Jim – wake up!"

Kirk shot him a mildly annoyed look before reverting to concerned captain. "What's happening, Bones?" He followed McCoy's gaze out the window and stopped. "Oh...that."

"Yeah, that." Throngs of Dareenir civilians crowded behind a barrier near the runway that was guarded by military officers. Some waved flags, while other carried large bunches of colorful flowers. Even from above and inside the craft, he could feel the energy out there. Some of the officers carried small weapons, while others had musical instruments slung across their chests.

"Nice, isn't it? Looks like they really rolled out the welcome wagon for us." As the shuttle descended, the crowd began to cheer. Kirk flashed his seatmate a grin. "Time to put on my irresistible diplomatic charm. How's this?" His smile widened, showing all his teeth.

"Peachy, if you're going to a dentistry convention," McCoy drawled. "Easy on the molars, Jim. You don't want to scare them away on your first meeting."

Kirk's mouth drooped. "Better?"

"Try something in between."

Kirk put on a subdued smile and clicked the cockpit comm. "Mr. Harjeet, try to land her a little further down the runway. Don't want to be mobbed before we're out the door."

"Aye, aye, captain."

The craft finally landed with a soft bump at the far end of the runway. Crew members unbuckled their seatbelts and stood, stretching, before filing down the aisle towards the door. McCoy brought up the rear, two minutes after the others had departed. As he poked his head out, he noticed that the crowd had followed the shuttle to the end of the runway. Dareenir surrounded the crew, shouting and waving, grasping their hands and pulling them close in friendly embraces. A very uncomfortable Spock was trapped between two older women who hung on his sides. One put a beaded wreath over his neck and kissed him on the cheek soundly. The Vulcan blushed green. A nearby Uhura laughed at the pinched expression on his face before being swept away by some children who filled her arms with flowers and fruit.

Leonard scanned the crowd for Kirk, noticing similar things happening to other crew members. The captain stood beside Carol Marcus as she cooed at a small baby a young woman was showing to her. Kirk reached out a hand to get the child's attention, only to wind up with a bitten finger for his troubles. He pulled his hand back, grimacing and trying not to cry out. His pained gaze met McCoy's, probably expecting laughter. Instead, the doctor returned his look with a sympathetic one of his own. Kirk smiled and turned around to face another Dareeni who held out a platter of lime green oval fruit slices.

Sighing deeply, McCoy stepped away from the side of the shuttle and made his way into the crowd. It didn't take long for their greeters to realize that a new face had come into their midst. He was mobbed by several people who grabbed him and pulled him along through the crowd, showering him with food, flowers and confetti. It was almost more than the doctor could take. Be nice, Leonard. Suppress the urge to bolt back to the shuttle screaming. He bit back a sneeze as a handful of glitter rained down on his head from somewhere up above.

McCoy was at first relieved when they were ushered to a large hoverbus pulled up next to the transport complex and driven through a series of winding roadways. He smiled as he imagined a nice hotel with luxurious pillows, a bar, maybe a swimming pool... No on calls...heaven. As they turned a corner past a large stone edifice with orange glass windows, he noticed that there was an unusual amount of people lining the streets. Some held banners and flags, waving them enthusiastically. With a start, McCoy realized they were there to see them. It's a parade... He shrugged and waved to the crowds. Whatever.

***

The next several hours passed in a blur. The bus escorted them from party to party; streets, public parks, military installations and private dwellings welcomed them with effusive joy and celebration. They spent no more than half an hour at each location before being whisked off to another. McCoy was beginning to develop a headache from the upheaval. Every time I finish my darn drink, somebody hands me a refill. I can't even use the bathroom without being celebrated all the way there! He took a sip of something yellow and mildly frothy, wincing as the acrid taste hit him.

The next thing he knew, he'd woken up on the shuttlecraft again, this time headed towards Rei, the first moon. Once again, he and the representatives were swarmed by overly friendly inhabitants upon disembarking. He'd managed to share a helpless look with Jim, who was being fawned over by several little girls who seemed to want him to play some kind of schoolyard game involving a ball filled with seeds.

Just as McCoy had begun to think that the day would never end, Carol Marcus surprised him. He'd been trying to find an open window, some kind of hole in the wall so he could breathe, when a hand reached out and pulled him behind a potted plant.

"AH!"

"Shhh..." The lieutenant held a finger up to her lips. "They'll hear you." She raked a hand through her damp hair and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, letting a puff of air out.

McCoy smiled. "So...what's your impression of our hosts?"

Marcus smiled. "A bit too...'enthusiastic' for my liking."

"Pardon me, ma'am, but I believe the word you're searching for is 'insane'." He shook his head and twirled his finger in a circle. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's having groupies."

Carol peered between the fronds of palm and pointed across the room. Jim was busy posing for photos with a group of older men. "He doesn't seem to mind."

McCoy looked just as the photographer lowered the camera. A pretty green haired woman passed it to Jim, who looked down at the image, then smiled up at her and winked. "Now, why do you think that is?"

Carol crossed her eyes and leaned back. "I should've known." She pulled out her comm and looked at it. "We've got an hour before we have to leave. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to call it a night now." She yawned. "They haven't said anything about accommodations, and I really don't want to try and find a hotel at this time of night in a strange city."

McCoy flipped open his comm and called Jim. The captain picked up on the fifth chirp. "Kirk here," he shouted over the loud music.

"Jim, me and Carol have about had it. Mind if we take the shuttle back now? You know I hate the transporter, and you're certainly not going anywhere any time soon-"

"Go ahead, Bones. I-I might want to stick around a little-" He stopped as the woman beckoned him onto the dance floor, laughing and tapping her feet. Kirk nodded and continued. "You're not drunk, are you?"

McCoy obliged the unseeing captain by walking a straight line behind the palm. Carol clapped. "Nope. See you, Jim." He clicked off the comm. "Come on, Lieutenant. We're good."

After asking for directions, they headed up to the roof of the convention centre, locating the shuttlepad where their craft was parked. It took only three minutes before they were soaring through the clouds and on their way home.

When he opened the hatch and exited the shuttle, night shift officers approached him. McCoy threw his hands up in front of his face, then dropped them at their confused expressions. "Sorry. I've been around too many people today."

"No worries, Doctor. Man, you look beat." Ensign Breyer clapped him on the shoulder before heading up into the craft to run a maintenance check. He nodded at Carol as she slowly stepped down the ramp. She offered a weak smile and yawned again.

"Good night, Lieutenant. Get some zs." McCoy saluted her with a smile and she returned it, heading towards the turbolift on the other side of shuttlebay. He watched her until the doors slid shut and moved in the opposite direction. And now...to bed. The whir of his turbolift nearly lulled him to sleep, only to jolt him awake as it stopped.

If it was possible, he broke his earlier shower record before brushing his teeth, and crawling into bed, thoroughly sore and exhausted. Probably still got about a kilo of glitter in my hair... He turned on his side and let sleep take him into oblivion.

***

Oblivion tasted strangely like vomit.

McCoy gripped the side of his toilet with one hand, shaking as he pushed down on the lever with the other. He'd woken up five minutes ago, kicking off the wet blankets, only to realize they were soaked with his own sweat. A burning pain was boring a hole somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Without thinking, he'd sprinted for the bathroom and hung his head over the bowl just in time to unload nine hours worth of party food.

Mentally, he kicked himself. Shoulda known. What am I always telling anyone who'll listen, and plenty who won't? "Don't eat anything without checking it out first." I'll bet it was those jakusa rings...about burned my mouth off. Or maybe that weird pink punch with the floaties in it...oh, who cares? He heaved again, gasping for air. Nothing came up. Good. Maybe it's gone... He stilled as he noticed the dark blue rash on the back of his right hand for the first time. Sitting back against the bathroom wall, he pushed up one pajama sleeve, then the other. The blue blotches went all the way up his arm, swollen and pulsating. Ack! My tricorder...where's my tricorder? He slapped his forehead, wincing in pain as he realized that he'd left it behind on the shuttle. Peachy.

He was just about to reach for his comm to call for help when it chirped, and he unclipped it from his pants, pressing the answer button. "McCoy here. I-"

A low moan interrupted him. "Tell me you don't feel as bad as I do."

"Carol?" He leaned forward, holding his dizzy head. "What's wrong?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. I've been lying on the bathroom floor for an hour." A faint hint of wry humor colored her tone. "Finally managed to drag my way over to the wall comm. I guess I must be lonely 'cause I'm blue."

He chuckled humourlessly. "I know the feeling. You just rest, I'll call for help." She didn't answer, but judging from the sound McCoy heard on the other end, he couldn't blame her one iota. He switched the channel. "Medbay, this is McCoy. Send a medical team to my quarters and Lieutenant Carol Marcus's, in quarantine gear. We're dealing with an unknown disease..."

***

"Got any threes?"

McCoy quirked a brow at the blue-skinned scientist who regarded him from the next bed. He took a tiny sip of apple juice from the table that stood between them and settled back against his pillows.

Carol frowned down at her hand of cards. "Go fish."

He leaned forward and reached out a hand towards her, smiling as her heart rate indicator went up five points. "You're a terrible bluffer, Lieutenant."

She managed a smile back, and slapped the card into his hand, frowning and rubbing her temple with her other hand. "Yeah, well, this is a rotten place to play cards, all hooked up to monitors." Carol waved a hand at the medical display, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Cheater."

"Hey, nobody's stopping you from looking at mine." He set down his pair and peered through the containment field at the science officers who were busy studying their samples, trying to determine the origin of their illness and find a cure.

Despite his assurances that the anti-nausea meds he'd been given were working, he had been told in no uncertain terms by Doctor Pajaloi that his job now was to rest. He'd been tempted to quote the phrase, "physician, heal thyself", but a bout of heart palpitations had stopped him in his tracks. This had led to more tests which revealed that he was allergic to the digestive remedy he had earlier lauded. So now he sat cross-legged in bed playing kiddy card games with a young woman who was no more pleased about the forced inactivity than he was.

Carol's fingernails idly grazed her right arm. "I play fair. Got any jacks?"

"No scratching, unless you want some lovely scars for a souvenir." He took another sip of juice. "Fish." He looked over at the time display on the wall. "What's keeping Jim, anyway?" He'd been expecting the captain for two hours. I know he stayed out late last night, but surely...

"Probably trying to wake up one of our ardent admirers to ask for medical assistance. That, could take a while." She reached for a card and tapped it against her chin, thinking. "Or maybe they're as in the dark as we are. Twos?"

McCoy dearly hoped it was the former. "Go fish." Pain grabbed his stomach. He breathed in and out slowly until it passed. "If only they'd let me have a tricorder, or a micro-imager...something. That's all I want. I hate not being able to do something." He dropped his cards face down and balled his hands into fists. An alarm beeped and he looked behind his head. "There goes my temperature again. 101.3." McCoy sighed and gulped down the rest of his juice, seeing the small flat vital sign stickers taped to his rashy arm. "Hey..." Pouring an ice cube from his drink, he pressed it to the miniscule device, watching his readouts with hope.

A plastic straw sailed by his head. "That doesn't work and you know it." Marcus crossed her arms and gave him a sideways glance.

He shrugged. "A man can dream, can't he?" As he dropped the ice back in his glass, he spotted Jim and Spock standing by the entrance to sickbay, speaking to Pajaloi. The first officer wore his usual all-is-right-with-the-universe-and-myself expression, but Kirk's was more difficult to read. He nodded at the doctor, who headed for his office, while the two approached the quarantine field together.

McCoy slipped his feet into a pair of white paper slippers and slid off the bed, heading for the field. He flicked a comm switch, allowing them to speak but not spread germs. "Good news or bad?"

Spock folded his hands behind his back. "We were rather fortunate, Doctor. Considering the numerous locations and individuals you and Lt. Marcus were exposed to, we expected it would take longer to narrow down the source of your infection."

"I could see that. It was pretty crazy." McCoy scratched his stubbly jaw.

"Is anybody else ill?" Carol chimed in, stepping forward, her hand drawing the sash on her robe closed. McCoy looked back at her, then turned, cocking his head at Jim.

Kirk shook his head. "No. That's part of the reason we figured it out, actually." He pressed a hand to the field, looking first McCoy, then Carol in the eyes. They both drew back and shared a glance before turning to face forward again.

"You may thank Mr. Chekov's keen observational skills." McCoy tried to remember if he'd seen the navigator at the party, but drew a blank. "He recalled seeing the two of you engaging in a clandestine rendezvous behind a large thee'oric palm, shortly after which you departed." Spock's brow rose. "The leaves of these palms secrete a resin which is mildly irritating to the Dareen. In humans, it would appear the reaction is rather more...pronounced." He indicated the rash covering McCoy's arms and face. "The Dareen medical authorities were kind enough to supply us with a course of treatment. You will each have to undergo a series of three injections, five hours apart, as well as phototherapy and the application of medicated lotion."

Carol twirled her hand in the air. "Yay."

"Oh, joy." McCoy tugged at his pajama collar. "Don't get me wrong, I want to get out of here. I just wish it didn't take so long."

"Understood. I wish you both a quick recovery." Turning, he walked away, but then stopped. "It was unsettling to learn of your discomfort."

"Thanks, Spock." McCoy watched him stop next to a microscope and peer down into it. Carol walked back over to bed, smiling at Kirk as she gathered their forgotten playing cards. He waved, and she waved back, frowning before sitting down on the edge of the bed and shuffling the cards.

Kirk cleared his throat. "Uh...yeah. I'm glad you're feeling better, too, Bones." He stared at his feet. "Sooo...twelve hours, at least. Wow. Long time to be stuck in a q-field together...and the shuttle...the party...something you two wanna tell me?" He pointed back and forth between the two of them.

McCoy frowned. "Spit it out, Jim."

Kirk shuffled his feet. "It's just...you know, it was pretty nuts...I don't think I saw anyone I recognized after midnight. I just kind of wondered...well, did you two have a good time?" There was a slight edge to his voice.

The doctor put his hands on his hips. "I think you know the answer to that." He turned to Carol, spreading his arms out wide. "Rashy, nauseous, and feverish, and he asks if we enjoyed ourselves?"

"I don't think that's what he's talking about, Leonard," Carol muttered, tucking her legs beneath the blankets and reaching for her cranberry juice.

Kirk cleared his throat. "Like, are you two...did you-" He swallowed hard.

Carol frowned. "Wait a minute. Are you...jealous? Of us?"

McCoy blushed. "Oh, for crying out loud. Are you kidding me, Jim?" He closed his eyes and shook his head, one hand on his hip, the other on his forehead. "Sure. Sure. Between racing each other to the bathroom and having blood drawn every hour, we fell madly in love. Right, Carol?"

She raised her glass in a mock toast before taking a sip, eyes rolling. "Absolutely smitten, darling."

Leonard turned back to the captain. "Satisfied? Or do I need a lawyer?"

It was Kirk's turn to blush. He backed away from the field. "Sorry. It's just, you hear about these things happening. Two people, stuck together, facing adversity...you know what I mean, right?"

McCoy nodded. "Yeah. I know. Say, what's gotten into you, anyway? 'Cause I'm sure there's plenty more resin where that came from, if you want to hang out with us patients." He put one hand flat against the field. " Besides, what happened to that girl you were hanging out with last night? The one who took your picture?"

"Yoka?" Jim managed a lopsided grin, tugging at his uniform sweater. "Ah, about that...well, apparently, there's at least one Dareen who isn't overly fond of...strangers. Who also happens to be her father." He chuckled half-heartedly. "Her seven foot tall...overly protective...short-tempered...father." He slicked back his hair. "Phew. Took some fast talking to get out of that one."

McCoy covered his face with one hand. Jim, Jim, Jim... "I'll bet it did." He clutched his abdomen as another wave of pain and nausea hit him. "Oooh. Gotta go." Kirk winced as McCoy turned and ran for the bathroom. Leave it to Jim to think Carol and I would fall in love over the toilet bowl...
 
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