Hey, this was part of a larger fanfic series about McCoy, but it features Chekov in a supporting role. But I post in here in memory of Anton Yelchin. RIP.
____________________________________________________________________
"Nurse, get me 15 ccs of evotalynine XT," McCoy muttered, his gaze still focused on the squirming toddler on the cot. He'd finally managed to calm the little boy down long enough to assess his condition. For someone who had been buried underneath the rubble of a crashed starship for at least seventy-two hours, he was remarkably healthy. Only a few scratches marred his tanned face. To be on the safe side, however, he'd administer antibiotics to the alert Cenutrian child. The toddler clapped his hands and gave McCoy a two-toothed grin, which the doctor returned with significantly more dentition. Hate to wipe the smile off your face, darlin', but you'll thank me someday.
Accepting the hypospray from the outstretched hand of Nurse Etienne, he pressed the injector end against the child's thigh and released the medication. To Leonard's surprise, the boy merely looked down at his leg, tapping the spot with the fingers of his right hand before putting them in his mouth. "Brave boy. You could teach my captain a thing or two," he laughed. "Now let's get those scratches seen to, okay?" He knew the child couldn't possibly understand him, but the way he stared at McCoy with wide, almost anime-like eyes that were so serious made him wonder.
He took a moment to survey his surroundings. Patrulan Field Hospital 8 was still a work in progress; boxes of supplies and makeshift curtains divided the triage areas from waiting and surgical sections. If you wanted to find anything in particular, your tricorder was your best bet. Personally, McCoy didn't see how anyone could stand this kind of disorganization, but he supposed it was better than no hospital at all.
Three days ago, a ship full of Cenutrians escaping famine conditions on their homeworld had crashed into the colony planet Patrula IV. The passenger craft had been absolutely stuffed to the gills with desperate people longing for a second chance; many had sold all they owned just to buy passage, which wasn't much. While Cenutria did possess warp technology, most of the refugees were poor civilians with little access to such things, so to have a man show up and offer to take them somewhere new must have seemed like a miracle. McCoy didn't have a single nice word for the slimeball trader who'd actually taken their money, but he supposed it didn't really matter. The man was beyond caring, having been incinerated on impact. Good riddance.
As the colony planet was a good distance away from the Patrulan homeworld, Field Hospital 8 was ill-prepared for the sudden influx of patients resulting from the crash. That was where theEnterprise came in. Forty-six hours ago, they'd picked up the request for immediate medical assistance on the comms, much to McCoy's relief. He had been on the losing end of a three-dimensional chess game with Spock and was on the verge of having to admit defeat when he'd been summoned. Knowing him, the board's probably still just as I left it. It had been sheer chaos from the moment they arrived to about three hours ago, when a Patrulan vessel had arrived with reinforcements. Fortunately, Cenutrian anatomy wasn't that different from other races they'd encountered in the past, so McCoy and his staff were a little more confident.
Picking up a small tissue regenerator, he held it near the child's temple, effectively erasing a half-inch scratch above his left eyebrow. The child tried to reach for it with chubby hands, but McCoy moved the instrument slightly and continued to work. "Hey, that's not a toy; it's a highly sophisticated piece of medical equipment."
"Is what is?" A flutelike voice from behind McCoy made him pause and look to his right. A small girl child, about 8 or 9 in human years, leaned over the edge of the cot, her fingers splayed across its surface. How did she get in here? "Is what is, Doctor?" She shot a brief glance at McCoy's patient, but the toddler seemed more interested in his toes than the intruder.
McCoy tipped his head to one side, regenerator poised in midair. "Now who might you be, young lady?"
"Be I Malua." A mat of tight dark curls covered her small head. She looked up at him kind of shyly, but with intelligence. She tugged on his hand. "Help you? Water?" Her wide eyes pleaded with him to say yes.
McCoy licked his lips. "Well, now that you mention it, I am kind of thirsty..." Malua needed no further encouragement. Like a flash, she darted past the curtain and down the corridor, small white sandals tapping against the earth. He chuckled and returned his attention to the little boy, who was now tugging on one corner of the cot's clean sheet.
Just as he finished with the last scratch, a slight breeze tickled his spine. "That you again, Malua?" He picked up his patient in his arms and turned around, only to bump into a curly haired lieutenant carrying a PADD.
"No, doctor." Pavel Chekov tucked the tablet under one arm and poked the child's nose, eliciting a soft squeal. "Who is this?" he asked.
McCoy hefted the child higher up on his hip. "I don't know, to be honest. Poor little fella was trapped in a crawlspace when rescue teams found him. Really hoping he's not an orphan." He nodded at the PADD. "Got something for me?"
Chekov removed the PADD from under his arm and blushed as he looked down at the screen. "Sorry. I got distracted. The Cenutrian Civilian Authority finally granted us access to their wital statistics databases."
He didn't elaborate, but McCoy could well imagine that getting to "finally" had involved a good deal of red tape cutting on the captain's part. I owe you one, Jim. "It's about darn time," he sighed, taking the PADD from Chekov.
"I've tagged all individuals believed to be aboard the Haweel vhen it crashed. We've already managed to account for some of the living and...most of the dead." Chekov stared down at his feet. "Fingerprint and DNA data is on there, too."
"Now we're getting somewhere." McCoy tapped the screen twice, bringing up the reader. He turned to the toddler, who stuck out his tongue at McCoy. "Hey, that isn't very nice. See this device, kid? It's gonna tell me your name." He pressed the child's finger to the screen, and almost instantly, a record file popped up. "'Thukas Marol'," he read. "According to this, we've got his mother in ward 3. She'll be happy to see her little-"
The curtain parted again, and Malua entered, carrying a small cup of clear liquid. "Drink you have now."
McCoy set down the PADD and accepted the cup from her small hands. "Thank you, Malua." He drank, surprised by the light, fruity taste. "This isn't water. What is it?"
"Flower water." The young girl walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, swinging her feet back and forth, eyes once again fixed on the regenerator.
"Is that who you thought I vas?" Chekov asked, pointing to Malua.
"Uh huh. I think she wants to be my little helper. Offered to get me water." He passed Thukas to Chekov, who took the child in his arms. "How'd you like to facilitate a family reunion, Pavel?"
Chekov nodded. "I'd love to. C'mon, Thukas. Your mommy will be so happy to see you!" As they left the room together, Thukas began to sing loudly.
McCoy let the curtain fall closed and stepped back towards the cot. Malua was studying the regenerator closely. "Is help this?" she asked, holding up a bloody finger. "Like boy?"
"Let me see that, sugar." McCoy took her thin wrist in his hand, feeling her pulse beat against his palm, and inspected her small wound. While the tiny pulled hangnail wound would be classified in the "suck it up, baby" category if an officer came into sickbay with one, little girls were another matter altogether. "Hmm...I think we can fix this up." He lifted her up onto the cot gently, clicked on the device and began to repair the damaged tissue. Malua watched with wonder as her wound closed underneath the beam. "See? All better," he assured her, switching off the regenerator.
She studied her finger from several different angles, then grabbed his sleeve. "You I show, let do."
"Let do what?" McCoy asked, frowning, but not unkindly.
Her hand reached for the regenerator again. "Please, let do. Help I one. Like you," she continued, sliding off the edge of the cot.
Realization dawned. "Oh. You want to help fix someone? Like I did?" He crouched down until he was eye level with her. "Good for you. I think you'd make a fine doctor someday."
Her gaze flicked away from his, darkening. "Not doctor. I Xami always." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Xami nothing." A tear ran down her face. "Forget."
There were three different subraces on Cenutria. Xami were the Dalits of their people, the untouchables; a majority of the injured refugees were Xami.
McCoy's heart ached for her. No wonder they left. No future even without the famine. "Tell you what, Malua," he whispered, brushing the tear from her cheek, "you go right ahead and forget, okay? This is your home now, Patrula IV. If you want to be a doctor, if that's your dream, don't you ever stop dreaming. 'Cause you're gonna make it. You are a very special little girl, Malua. You hear me?"
Malua nodded, sniffling. Suddenly, she threw her arms around McCoy's neck. "Like you much," she whispered back, her voice muffled by his sweater.
Leonard returned the hug, feeling warm all over. "Like you much too." He stood up slowly and took her hand in his. "Tell you what; why don't you come along on rounds with me?" Malua smiled up at him and nodded. As she followed him out of the room, he began preparing a list of Cenutrians who weren't too badly injured that they could visit together.
McCoy splashed his face with cold water, shivering. After four hours of visiting patients and showing Malua how to "help" them get better, he was dead on his feet. But not sorry. A smile crossed his lips as he remembered how his little protégée had measured vital signs and studied scans, a thoughtful expression on her young face. She was like a little sponge soaking up every word McCoy said, asking him about blood and numbers and medicine. Most of the Enterprise staff still remaining planetside were amused by the scene. Lieutenant Uhura had even kidded McCoy about his little shadow when she'd come to the field hospital delivering blankets and stuffed toys for the children. She'd offered Malua a teddy bear, but the child didn't seem to notice, too busy poring over an image of a broken bone on a PADD.
"Too busy with her studies to play?" Uhura asked McCoy
The doctor put an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Well, Malua here wants to be a doctor. I'm teaching her a little bit."
"Good for her." Uhura nodded. "And you, too, Leonard."
"I'm not the only bleeding heart around here." McCoy raised an eyebrow. "I have it on good authority that those little goodies you're giving out cost somebody a month's worth of replicator credits."
Uhura blushed. "So I'll skip dessert for a little while. It was worth it. Besides," she added, "even though it was my idea, everybody kind of chipped in."
"Still though..." He raked a hand over his face. "How's Jim doing with the negotiations? Making progress?"
The lieutenant smiled. "Moving right along. The Patrulan government has agreed to grant refugee status to the Cenutrians. Looks like they've got a new home."
McCoy looked down at Malua. "Hear that? You get to stay." She gave him a bright smile and returned to her studies.
After Uhura left, McCoy had picked up the PADD with identification records on it and held it out to the girl. "Malua, would you touch this screen for me?" He'd been meaning to figure out who she belonged to since he met her, but had held back, afraid of what he might find out.
The girl tapped the screen with her finger once. McCoy took the PADD and held it behind his back. "Thank you. You've been a very good helper. But I bet you're hungry. Why don't you go down to the eating room and get some dinner?"
"Yes go." Malua slid off her chair and headed out through the curtain, leaving the PADD with the bone picture behind.
McCoy crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair, looking down at the records. Malua Rsera was actually closer to eleven, though he supposed the famine had something to do with her younger appearance. He stilled as he'd seen that the familial cross-reference field remained blank. No family here...how did she wind up on the Haweel? A quick look revealed that the girl had no living close relatives, no home address, and no assets to speak of on Cenutria. Probably stowed away. It wouldn't be hard in a crowd that large.
He exchanged a nod with a Patrulan doctor as the man left the temporary washroom facility. Now, to find a bed somewhere...I don't care if it's cozy. Heck, I don't even care if it's clean. I'll sleep on the floor if I have to. He thought longingly of his bed on the Enterprise, sighing. He wouldn't see it for a couple more days; Jim had gone to rendezvous with a second Patrulan supply ship that had become disabled halfway to the colony. Time was, I used to be homesick for Earth...
McCoy shoved his hands in his pockets, surprised when he felt nothing there. I thought I put that regen- "Malua." He smiled and shook his head. "Little pickpocket." The device had held as much wonder to the child as a magic trick. Oh, well. I'll ask her for it back tomorrow. Now, to get some shuteye...
____________________________________________________________________
"Nurse, get me 15 ccs of evotalynine XT," McCoy muttered, his gaze still focused on the squirming toddler on the cot. He'd finally managed to calm the little boy down long enough to assess his condition. For someone who had been buried underneath the rubble of a crashed starship for at least seventy-two hours, he was remarkably healthy. Only a few scratches marred his tanned face. To be on the safe side, however, he'd administer antibiotics to the alert Cenutrian child. The toddler clapped his hands and gave McCoy a two-toothed grin, which the doctor returned with significantly more dentition. Hate to wipe the smile off your face, darlin', but you'll thank me someday.
Accepting the hypospray from the outstretched hand of Nurse Etienne, he pressed the injector end against the child's thigh and released the medication. To Leonard's surprise, the boy merely looked down at his leg, tapping the spot with the fingers of his right hand before putting them in his mouth. "Brave boy. You could teach my captain a thing or two," he laughed. "Now let's get those scratches seen to, okay?" He knew the child couldn't possibly understand him, but the way he stared at McCoy with wide, almost anime-like eyes that were so serious made him wonder.
He took a moment to survey his surroundings. Patrulan Field Hospital 8 was still a work in progress; boxes of supplies and makeshift curtains divided the triage areas from waiting and surgical sections. If you wanted to find anything in particular, your tricorder was your best bet. Personally, McCoy didn't see how anyone could stand this kind of disorganization, but he supposed it was better than no hospital at all.
Three days ago, a ship full of Cenutrians escaping famine conditions on their homeworld had crashed into the colony planet Patrula IV. The passenger craft had been absolutely stuffed to the gills with desperate people longing for a second chance; many had sold all they owned just to buy passage, which wasn't much. While Cenutria did possess warp technology, most of the refugees were poor civilians with little access to such things, so to have a man show up and offer to take them somewhere new must have seemed like a miracle. McCoy didn't have a single nice word for the slimeball trader who'd actually taken their money, but he supposed it didn't really matter. The man was beyond caring, having been incinerated on impact. Good riddance.
As the colony planet was a good distance away from the Patrulan homeworld, Field Hospital 8 was ill-prepared for the sudden influx of patients resulting from the crash. That was where theEnterprise came in. Forty-six hours ago, they'd picked up the request for immediate medical assistance on the comms, much to McCoy's relief. He had been on the losing end of a three-dimensional chess game with Spock and was on the verge of having to admit defeat when he'd been summoned. Knowing him, the board's probably still just as I left it. It had been sheer chaos from the moment they arrived to about three hours ago, when a Patrulan vessel had arrived with reinforcements. Fortunately, Cenutrian anatomy wasn't that different from other races they'd encountered in the past, so McCoy and his staff were a little more confident.
Picking up a small tissue regenerator, he held it near the child's temple, effectively erasing a half-inch scratch above his left eyebrow. The child tried to reach for it with chubby hands, but McCoy moved the instrument slightly and continued to work. "Hey, that's not a toy; it's a highly sophisticated piece of medical equipment."
"Is what is?" A flutelike voice from behind McCoy made him pause and look to his right. A small girl child, about 8 or 9 in human years, leaned over the edge of the cot, her fingers splayed across its surface. How did she get in here? "Is what is, Doctor?" She shot a brief glance at McCoy's patient, but the toddler seemed more interested in his toes than the intruder.
McCoy tipped his head to one side, regenerator poised in midair. "Now who might you be, young lady?"
"Be I Malua." A mat of tight dark curls covered her small head. She looked up at him kind of shyly, but with intelligence. She tugged on his hand. "Help you? Water?" Her wide eyes pleaded with him to say yes.
McCoy licked his lips. "Well, now that you mention it, I am kind of thirsty..." Malua needed no further encouragement. Like a flash, she darted past the curtain and down the corridor, small white sandals tapping against the earth. He chuckled and returned his attention to the little boy, who was now tugging on one corner of the cot's clean sheet.
Just as he finished with the last scratch, a slight breeze tickled his spine. "That you again, Malua?" He picked up his patient in his arms and turned around, only to bump into a curly haired lieutenant carrying a PADD.
"No, doctor." Pavel Chekov tucked the tablet under one arm and poked the child's nose, eliciting a soft squeal. "Who is this?" he asked.
McCoy hefted the child higher up on his hip. "I don't know, to be honest. Poor little fella was trapped in a crawlspace when rescue teams found him. Really hoping he's not an orphan." He nodded at the PADD. "Got something for me?"
Chekov removed the PADD from under his arm and blushed as he looked down at the screen. "Sorry. I got distracted. The Cenutrian Civilian Authority finally granted us access to their wital statistics databases."
He didn't elaborate, but McCoy could well imagine that getting to "finally" had involved a good deal of red tape cutting on the captain's part. I owe you one, Jim. "It's about darn time," he sighed, taking the PADD from Chekov.
"I've tagged all individuals believed to be aboard the Haweel vhen it crashed. We've already managed to account for some of the living and...most of the dead." Chekov stared down at his feet. "Fingerprint and DNA data is on there, too."
"Now we're getting somewhere." McCoy tapped the screen twice, bringing up the reader. He turned to the toddler, who stuck out his tongue at McCoy. "Hey, that isn't very nice. See this device, kid? It's gonna tell me your name." He pressed the child's finger to the screen, and almost instantly, a record file popped up. "'Thukas Marol'," he read. "According to this, we've got his mother in ward 3. She'll be happy to see her little-"
The curtain parted again, and Malua entered, carrying a small cup of clear liquid. "Drink you have now."
McCoy set down the PADD and accepted the cup from her small hands. "Thank you, Malua." He drank, surprised by the light, fruity taste. "This isn't water. What is it?"
"Flower water." The young girl walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, swinging her feet back and forth, eyes once again fixed on the regenerator.
"Is that who you thought I vas?" Chekov asked, pointing to Malua.
"Uh huh. I think she wants to be my little helper. Offered to get me water." He passed Thukas to Chekov, who took the child in his arms. "How'd you like to facilitate a family reunion, Pavel?"
Chekov nodded. "I'd love to. C'mon, Thukas. Your mommy will be so happy to see you!" As they left the room together, Thukas began to sing loudly.
McCoy let the curtain fall closed and stepped back towards the cot. Malua was studying the regenerator closely. "Is help this?" she asked, holding up a bloody finger. "Like boy?"
"Let me see that, sugar." McCoy took her thin wrist in his hand, feeling her pulse beat against his palm, and inspected her small wound. While the tiny pulled hangnail wound would be classified in the "suck it up, baby" category if an officer came into sickbay with one, little girls were another matter altogether. "Hmm...I think we can fix this up." He lifted her up onto the cot gently, clicked on the device and began to repair the damaged tissue. Malua watched with wonder as her wound closed underneath the beam. "See? All better," he assured her, switching off the regenerator.
She studied her finger from several different angles, then grabbed his sleeve. "You I show, let do."
"Let do what?" McCoy asked, frowning, but not unkindly.
Her hand reached for the regenerator again. "Please, let do. Help I one. Like you," she continued, sliding off the edge of the cot.
Realization dawned. "Oh. You want to help fix someone? Like I did?" He crouched down until he was eye level with her. "Good for you. I think you'd make a fine doctor someday."
Her gaze flicked away from his, darkening. "Not doctor. I Xami always." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Xami nothing." A tear ran down her face. "Forget."
There were three different subraces on Cenutria. Xami were the Dalits of their people, the untouchables; a majority of the injured refugees were Xami.
McCoy's heart ached for her. No wonder they left. No future even without the famine. "Tell you what, Malua," he whispered, brushing the tear from her cheek, "you go right ahead and forget, okay? This is your home now, Patrula IV. If you want to be a doctor, if that's your dream, don't you ever stop dreaming. 'Cause you're gonna make it. You are a very special little girl, Malua. You hear me?"
Malua nodded, sniffling. Suddenly, she threw her arms around McCoy's neck. "Like you much," she whispered back, her voice muffled by his sweater.
Leonard returned the hug, feeling warm all over. "Like you much too." He stood up slowly and took her hand in his. "Tell you what; why don't you come along on rounds with me?" Malua smiled up at him and nodded. As she followed him out of the room, he began preparing a list of Cenutrians who weren't too badly injured that they could visit together.
McCoy splashed his face with cold water, shivering. After four hours of visiting patients and showing Malua how to "help" them get better, he was dead on his feet. But not sorry. A smile crossed his lips as he remembered how his little protégée had measured vital signs and studied scans, a thoughtful expression on her young face. She was like a little sponge soaking up every word McCoy said, asking him about blood and numbers and medicine. Most of the Enterprise staff still remaining planetside were amused by the scene. Lieutenant Uhura had even kidded McCoy about his little shadow when she'd come to the field hospital delivering blankets and stuffed toys for the children. She'd offered Malua a teddy bear, but the child didn't seem to notice, too busy poring over an image of a broken bone on a PADD.
"Too busy with her studies to play?" Uhura asked McCoy
The doctor put an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Well, Malua here wants to be a doctor. I'm teaching her a little bit."
"Good for her." Uhura nodded. "And you, too, Leonard."
"I'm not the only bleeding heart around here." McCoy raised an eyebrow. "I have it on good authority that those little goodies you're giving out cost somebody a month's worth of replicator credits."
Uhura blushed. "So I'll skip dessert for a little while. It was worth it. Besides," she added, "even though it was my idea, everybody kind of chipped in."
"Still though..." He raked a hand over his face. "How's Jim doing with the negotiations? Making progress?"
The lieutenant smiled. "Moving right along. The Patrulan government has agreed to grant refugee status to the Cenutrians. Looks like they've got a new home."
McCoy looked down at Malua. "Hear that? You get to stay." She gave him a bright smile and returned to her studies.
After Uhura left, McCoy had picked up the PADD with identification records on it and held it out to the girl. "Malua, would you touch this screen for me?" He'd been meaning to figure out who she belonged to since he met her, but had held back, afraid of what he might find out.
The girl tapped the screen with her finger once. McCoy took the PADD and held it behind his back. "Thank you. You've been a very good helper. But I bet you're hungry. Why don't you go down to the eating room and get some dinner?"
"Yes go." Malua slid off her chair and headed out through the curtain, leaving the PADD with the bone picture behind.
McCoy crossed the room and lowered himself into the chair, looking down at the records. Malua Rsera was actually closer to eleven, though he supposed the famine had something to do with her younger appearance. He stilled as he'd seen that the familial cross-reference field remained blank. No family here...how did she wind up on the Haweel? A quick look revealed that the girl had no living close relatives, no home address, and no assets to speak of on Cenutria. Probably stowed away. It wouldn't be hard in a crowd that large.
He exchanged a nod with a Patrulan doctor as the man left the temporary washroom facility. Now, to find a bed somewhere...I don't care if it's cozy. Heck, I don't even care if it's clean. I'll sleep on the floor if I have to. He thought longingly of his bed on the Enterprise, sighing. He wouldn't see it for a couple more days; Jim had gone to rendezvous with a second Patrulan supply ship that had become disabled halfway to the colony. Time was, I used to be homesick for Earth...
McCoy shoved his hands in his pockets, surprised when he felt nothing there. I thought I put that regen- "Malua." He smiled and shook his head. "Little pickpocket." The device had held as much wonder to the child as a magic trick. Oh, well. I'll ask her for it back tomorrow. Now, to get some shuteye...
