damned_institute | Night 46: M41-50 Hallway

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Night 46: M41-50 Hallway

[from here]

622 headed down to the last door in the cell block corridor, keeping alert for anything that might already have set itself up in the hall. There usually weren't any ambushes this early in the night, but better safe than dead.

He knocked on the door to M41, waiting slightly back from the door for the Commander to open it.

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Kirk's face visibly lit up when he heard Spock's voice, as much due to relief that his crewmen had arrived safely as it was to having a distraction from Bones' questions. Admittedly, more the latter. Barring any other unpleasant surprises from their jailers, he'd trusted that Spock and Chekov would find their way without trouble, but McCoy could be as stubborn as he was. Kirk held no illusions that his friend would let the matter go for anything less than a viral epidemic, and even he'd probably resume the interrogation the moment he devised a cure.

"Bones!" Kirk protested. He schooled his features into a surprisingly good attempt at authoritative disapproval, considering it was an expression he'd used only on his combat students, and rarely at that. This lasted all of two seconds before curiosity got the better of him, and Kirk moved to stand behind McCoy, rising on his tiptoes look outside. "I'm fine. Come in, you two."

Chekov was almost glad that they were going to get out of the hallway, when Doctor McCoy roughly denied them entrance into the room. Surely he'd had enough time to make sure Captain Kirk was fit for duty? This wasn't supposed to be some kind of full-scan after returning from a disease-infested planet, was it? Perhaps it was taking longer because Doctor McCoy didn't have access to his tricorder or hypospray (though he had heard rumors after the Narada incident of Doctor McCoy being a little too... enthusiastic with them. Perhaps it was best if he was separated from them for a while).

He shrunk backwards for a moment, ready to apologize for the interruption and wait until his superior allowed him entrance. However, he was standing next to Commander Spock. Something told him that the older version of the doctor and his Commander would get along just as well as they had during the incident with Nero. Chekov wasn't one to gossip, but he also wasn't deaf after all.

Fortunately (and much to his relief), Captain Kirk saved them from what could have been a Vulcan-on-Doctor confrontation. Chekov's face broke into a grin when he caught sight of Captain Kirk over Doctor McCoy's shoulder--looking more or less better than he had last night. At least one of his niggling worries was assuaged.

"Aye, Keptain," Chekov responded promptly, waiting for Commander Spock to enter before he brought up the rear.

One didn't need to be in close proximity to Dr. McCoy to understand that he was irritated at their arrival. It was apparent in his tone of voice, and the manner in which he'd rooted himself in front of them. Considering that they had received orders from Kirk to meet them here, however, it seemed like an unnecessary reaction. After all, a simple "yes" or "no" would have sufficed. Spock regarded the man with faintly raised eyebrows, the only indication of any surprise he may have experienced from the firm response.

Before he could answer McCoy, however, Kirk spoke and granted them permission to enter. If patient confidentiality was the doctor's main concern, it appeared as though Kirk had no issue with their presence, which indicated that it was indeed acceptable for them to be here. In this case, Kirk's wishes overrode McCoy's insistence that they remain outside. It was for that reason that Spock stepped into the room, silently moving past McCoy, flashlight and bat in hand.

Once inside, he took a moment to briefly study Kirk. He appeared alert and, aside from the injuries across his arms and the bandages covering his bare chest, in relatively good condition. Not only that, but it was apparent he was carrying himself with the same air of confidence he retained whenever he assumed control of a situation. Bill, on the other hand, had rejected his position as captain, and had even gone as far as to suggest that he and Mr. Chekov were merely products of some grand delusion. Yet when Spock looked at Kirk, he saw no visible traces of the man he'd been yesterday. Upon having the opportunity to witness the apparent recovery himself, Spock's otherwise rigid posture became slightly less tense, and he glanced away from his half-dressed commanding officer.

"It was not our intention to interrupt your discussion with Dr. McCoy, Captain," Spock quietly said. "However, I believed it was best to announce our presence now rather than later." The nighttime hours had a tendency to end abruptly, and his orders as they appeared on the bulletin board had been quite clear. Spock was certain Kirk was fully aware of both factors, though, which meant they were not worth mentioning at this time.

McCoy had silently stepped aside to make room for Spock and Chekov.

He didn't like the idea of dropping confidentiality, even if it was certainly more convenient, anymore than he liked the idea of two potential distractions wandering in when they were hitting a crucial point in Jim's mental health exam. It was hard enough getting Jim to answer the questions in detail, much less in anything that might've resembled a straightforward manner. He also knew the moment his crew wandered into the equation was the moment McCoy'd probably lose him. Back where he was from, the Kirk he knew would do whatever he humanly could (and then some) to ensure the safety of his crew and the Enterprise.

Everything he'd seen so far pegged this Jim as being the same in that regard. Which meant that now he was going to have Jim potentially running himself exhausted in light of his crew's needs first. Never mind that his health was very much a part of that.

The doctor closed the door behind them and leaned against it. McCoy still didn't like it. Captain or not, right now, the man was still his patient. But if the captain's orders were to forgo his own right to privacy, McCoy had to follow them.

"Well I think you've done more than announce yourselves," McCoy said to Spock's back. He wasn't exactly being addressed here, but by now, he was used to Spock tunnel-visioning on Jim at times, and then taking some pleasure himself in publicly reminding the Vulcan that Jim wasn't the only person in the room. "I was in the middle of conducting the interview." He didn't call it for what it really was. Most patients didn't like to know that they were being evaluated on their mental health then and there.

So what to tell Spock? There wasn't much to tell him, at least not without more digging, equipment, and harder facts. Jim wasn't giving them up easily either. And even if Jim was unfit, he wasn't about to say it in front of Mr. Chekov. Matters of command, whether Jim was medically unfit or not, weren't something to be discussed lightly or openly. Ultimately that discussion would have to be just between the First Officer and himself.

McCoy looked meaningfully at Jim. Jim was hiding something, or at least, making it difficult, and McCoy wanted the captain to know that he wasn't fooled.

"Afraid I don't have too much concrete to tell you about what the extent or effects of yesterday are, just a few theories," he finally admitted. He really couldn't say if the captain was mentally fit or not right now. He appeared to be making a rapid recovery. McCoy was hesitant to accept that at face value, especially when Jim was avoiding several issues. Still waters ran deep, after all, and the devil lay beneath.

He shrugged slightly. "Jim's physically fine though. At his rate of progression, he could wrestle down a Rigellan ox and then even you."

Kirk beamed back at McCoy, his smile too winning to be anything less than calculated. He could guess what Bones meant by that look, and that was fine, because Kirk knew he'd have to tell the whole truth eventually. If they wanted to verbally chase circles around each other, however, they could do it during daylight. For now, the Jim Kirk School Of Playing Dumb And Being Irresistible would do.

"Don't tempt me," he said glibly, remembering how he'd teased Spock earlier about being down to practically human strength. He smacked Bones on the shoulder, giving it a half-second squeeze before crossing the room to swipe his shirt off the bed. Being seen half-clothed wasn't something that ever bothered him, but he'd rather not show off his bandages to Spock and Chekov, lest they start worrying about him too. No one needed an injured captain.

Wearing the hospital's ridiculous uniform didn't bother him much either, although it was weird that he and Chekov were the only ones without their Starfleet uniforms. There probably wasn't much of a point to asking about it. He doubted Spock knew much more about the reasons behind this than McCoy did. "I don't think I'm going to 'regress' back to whoever I was yesterday," said Kirk as he pulled his T-shirt over his head. "I'm sure of that much. If everyone who'd been affected returned to normal this morning, then their intent couldn't have been to make it stick. It's like... the last time they pulled something."

Kirk looked at Spock and Chekov, expecting that they would remember what had occurred three nights ago.

"They were just screwing with me, and consequently screw with the rest of you. This place is one giant mind game after another."

Chekov was glad to hear that Doctor McCoy had pronounced Captain Kirk fit for duty and physically fine, though he wasn't sure what else the doctor needed if he'd already arrived at that conclusion. Perhaps it was a matter of mental stability, then? The Captain seemed alright--he was at least acknowledging that what had happened yesterday wasn't the truth, but was Landel 'screwing' with them.

The mind games were what concerned him. Because not only was Landel very powerful (he'd made the Captain believe he was someone else, after all), he knew exactly where to push. While the chain of command had only faltered slightly once Captain Kirk's strange ailment had come to light, if both he and Commander Spock were compromised, Chekov wouldn't know what to do with himself. But given their location, the probability was there--not high, but there.

"It seems as zough we hawe been teken in by zese 'mind gemes'," Chekov began, wrinkling his brow in thought. "I beliewe it would be to our adwantage to perform some reconnaissance, before we are teken in again by another giant mind game. Ze sooner we know more about zis plece, ze more prepared we will be for ze next atteck. ...sir," Chekov added, finding he didn't have anything else to tack onto the end of his recommendation.

Edited 2010-01-22 03:59 (UTC)

McCoy's observation regarding the Captain's health was likely an exaggeration, though it was certainly true that he possessed a fair amount of stamina. It was Kirk's remark, however, that earned a raised eyebrow from Spock. The image of him wrestling a Rigellan ox and then himself for the mere sport of it wasn't even worth considering. As such, Spock saw no reason to dignify that particular exchange with a response, and so he chose to remain silent.

Thankfully, the Captain moved onto more relevant matters. His point regarding the fact that it was not uncommon for their captors to force them to endure harsh situations was a valid one, although Spock would have just as well not have to discuss what happened three nights ago at that moment. Upon being met with Kirk's pointed look, Spock's mouth faintly tightened.

Still, it was true that Spock had seen an apparition of his mother, had been forced to relive her final moments, and had ultimately been killed -- or at least had undergone some sort of procedure that was capable of simulating all of those things. As far as he was aware, he was not suffering any lingering ill effects from that ordeal. If that was the case, then perhaps it was possible that Kirk would no longer suffer any regressions, either. That they were able to make Kirk doubt his very identity was rather alarming, however. It made Spock wonder how Landel's was able to achieve such a feat. He had theories, certainly, but nothing he knew for a fact -- at least, not yet.

"I agree with Mr. Chekov," Spock said. "It may be wise to consider forming more than one exploration party, not only for the purpose of reconnaissance, but also in order to gather any potentially useful supplies." He paused, suddenly regarding McCoy with a neutral expression. "However, before we discuss such matters further, I must request that we make certain as to whether Dr. McCoy believes he should continue with your previous interview, or if he is satisfied to leave the issue as is for the time being."

Edited 2010-01-22 06:52 (UTC)

McCoy's shoulder smarted from the smack. The squeeze was a friendly one but he knew how to read the gesture. It could range from encouragement, a way to grab attention, a joke. His captain did it the exact same way. The doctor knew what it meant right now. It was Jim's way of telling him his exam was over. That was it, the signal that he'd just lost the captain. He was locked up tighter than a clam. Nothing he did right now was going to get Kirk to change his mind.

All the same, McCoy wasn't going to give up just yet. He was too stubborn for that, especially when it came down to a patient. The avoidance made it very clear that everything wasn't completely fine. Jim was hiding something. He's find out what eventually. He was just gonna have to come at him another time and at another angle.

McCoy's eyebrows lifted at Jim. He didn't think he was going to regress? Unless he was inhumanly aware of his body's inner workings, it was impossible to know for certain. Wishful thinking didn't cure wounds or stop the common cold.

"We don't know anything about their intent for sure though, Jim," McCoy pointed out. He agreed that their minds were being messed with. You could even assume that their captors either didn't know or didn't care if what they were doing was ethical or not, but assuming much else at this stage was asking for trouble. Especially that this was over. McCoy was inclined to assume the worst, for good measure. As far as he was concerned, they had caused this. "Just because you feel fine right now, doesn't mean they're through just yet."

Chekov and Spock had a good point. What they needed to do was get supplies (medical ones especially) and find out more about this place and their captors. Find out who or what they were, where this was, what they wanted. McCoy eyed the ensign thoughtfully. The way he'd worded that was framed in a more military mindset than the doctor was used to.

The Enterprise he'd come from was armed, and his Jim was more than ready to do what it took to defend his crew, but at the heart of things, they were on a primarily peaceful mission: deep space exploration, peacekeeping and science, searching out and contacting alien life. A generally peaceful mission. They had their bumps and scrapes of course, but the stance they'd generally taken was a defensive one. In fact, Spock would've leaped at the chance to investigate this place and whoever was behind it. And the matter of yanking someone clean out of a transporter? Scotty would've loved trying to figure that one out.

Mr. Spock chose that moment to turn towards him expectantly. For a moment, he was reminded of the Vulcan he knew sharing that same look earlier when he'd inquired about Miss Clark's status. It wasn't an entirely pleasant sense of deja vu.

The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, more to stop the exasperated sigh that was coming out. "Spock, I'm under-equipped. There's only so much I can do. I can't go performing brain surgery with nothing but a flashlight and a pen."

Not that he thought surgery was a good idea at the moment. You didn't go diving into surgery, much less surgery in the brain, without knowing what you were looking for. There was no indication that his condition required it. Maybe medication. Or it could just involve therapy. It did involve Jim talking openly.

McCoy found himself wishing Spock wasn't expecting him to have all the answers right now. He didn't have them. He had one hand tied behind his back as it was with the lack of equipment. Jim was tying the other hand on his own.

"I'm not saying you need brain surgery, captain, but I don't know enough about what happened to you. Or if you're still suffering any adverse effects," he added. "I can only give you a clean bill of health for your physical state. Mentally and emotionally speaking is another story. I can't say for certain right now."

Edited 2010-01-22 11:40 (UTC)

"Then that's good enough for me," replied Kirk without hesitation. He couldn't really argue with Bones over how reckless it was to assume Landel's intentions, as it was a gut feeling that told him there wasn't any point to worrying over unseen side-effects. After almost five days of puzzling over the reasons behind their capture, everything they'd gone through since arriving seemed no less random than before. Why force so many patients to "die," only to resurrect them like new the next morning? Why expend so much to pull that off, and not give any hint of the motives or consequences? What if it all was random?

There were Bill's memories, of course, which weren't going away, but weren't going to interfere either, not if Kirk had anything to do with it. Whether the images in head were a one-off experiment or something more sinister, getting his crew home still took precedence above all else. "Look," he said seriously, "I think the one thing we can agree on is that we don't know enough about what we're dealing with. Maybe there's more to their plan, maybe not. But if they have something else in the works for me — or for any of us — then right now, we're not prepared to counter them."

Kirk almost winced. That came out a lot more pessimistic than he would've liked, but losing his mind for an entire day had a way of putting helplessness into perspective. He wasn't defeated yet, however. Kirk straightened up.

"So we already know what we need to do. Reconnaissance, and equipment," he confirmed, pointing in turn to each officer who made the suggestion. "It'll be faster for us to split up, and we don't have enough people to let me sit out, brainwashing or no brainwashing." Not that Kirk would've allowed himself to be sidelined even if they had the whole crew behind them, but that didn't need to be said. Chekov had seen him transport aboard the Narada with Spock, and he suspected McCoy was well-acquainted with Kirk's brand of stubbornness. "Mister Spock, you and Doctor McCoy can see about obtaining medical supplies. Chekov, you're with me. I want to see what's up on that second floor."

Kirk paused, remembering the whole reason the four of them had ended up gathered in Bones' room. He turned to Spock.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about, anyway?"

Edited 2010-01-23 06:59 (UTC)

Chekov was worried at first that even though Captain Kirk had said he was fine, Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy knew something Chekov wasn't seeing. The talk of brain surgery made him nervous--even more nervous than Commander Spock's suggestion that Doctor McCoy continue the analysis no matter what the Captain said. Situations usually resolved themselves so quickly, in Chekov's experience, so the idea that the Captain may not be fit for duty for days made him wish he could offer some sort of reassurance that Captain Kirk seemed fine. Of course, he was a navigator--not a doctor or a commander.

When Captain Kirk began giving out orders per both his and Commander Spock's recommendations, Chekov's worried expression softened. These orders didn't sound like they were coming from a Captain with an unstable mind. They sounded quite reasonable, actually. Sending both the Commander and the Doctor to gather supplies was the best course of action as far as those two were concerned (since sending Chekov to gather useful medical supplies would be like asking a new recruit to plot the fastest course to Gamma Trianguli with only an unlabeled star chart). Exploration was his forte, and he was ready and willing to undertake the order.

"A-aye, Keptain," Chekov said, straightening a little to indicate he had understood the order.

He looked over at Commander Spock when Captain Kirk mentioned they had something to discuss. He wondered briefly what it was, but then remembered that Commander Spock had mentioned a possible mind meld in order to assess the damage. Perhaps that was what was about to happen.

...in which case, Captain Kirk didn't know what was going to happen, and Chekov thought he might want to get out of the way.

Spock had not intended for McCoy to announce whether he believed the captain was fit for duty or not, particularly with Chekov present, but it appeared that he had little else to say regarding the interview. Aside from the injuries he'd acquired last night, Kirk did indeed appear physically fit. The staff had done an oddly thorough job in dressing his wounds, which indicated that their captors did not wish to see him fall into poor condition.

But while it was obvious he had regained his sense of self, Spock did not want to assume the matter was so simple without at least learning as much as he could regarding the matter. Naturally, it would be far more difficult to assess Kirk's mental health with so little resources available to them. Spock believed that to be the case the moment he realized Kirk had changed yesterday. That was why he had decided on the course of action he was about to propose, even if it was not necessarily his preferred method for such matters.

Spock acknowledged Kirk's orders with a simple "understood, sir" -- the plan appeared to be a sound one, particularly since they would cover more ground if they spit up into two groups. Once the captain inquired as to what he wished to speak to him about, however, Spock did not hesitate to answer him.

"Considering our lack of medical equipment, and the unusual occurrence which transpired yesterday, I wish to propose a simple, alternative method that may be used to assess such situations," the Vulcan said. His voice remained detached, as though he were giving Kirk a routine atmospheric reading of a planet. He was, of course, referring to a mind meld, but he didn't believe it was best to announce it so suddenly. Although Kirk was familiar with the concept (he'd seen him perform a meld on the Narada in order to retrieve vital information), it was still a private affair.

"However," he continued, "I must request that I be allowed to speak with you alone. I assure you it will only take a moment, Captain."

Maybe that was good enough for the captain, but it wasn't good enough for him. Jim was always flippant about his own health, far too much for his own good. He exchanged a look with Spock. Did Spock sense he was hiding something?

There wasn't any way to argue with Jim at the moment over it. The captain was going into full-on command mode, issuing orders with a decisiveness and certainty about them that made McCoy just a little homesick.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

It was with a strange sinking feeling that McCoy listened to Spock make his request. He didn't have to say flat out what he intended. McCoy knew immediately. A mind meld. There was a lot McCoy didn't understand about the practice: it blurred that line between science and Vulcan mysticism, something he didn't think he'd ever fully understand. For all their talk of the merits of logic, facts, it didn't seem very logical at all.

Why he suddenly felt uneasy about it all of a sudden was a good question. His Jim and Spock had always had a certain bond between them. And Spock's mind melds had always felt like an intensely private matter.

Mr. Spock wouldn't want everyone gaping over him and the captain. The doctor closed the notebook with something akin to relief. He could wait outside until they finished. When it came to Vulcan spiritualism like this, McCoy just didn't have the medical know-how to be useful standing by, even if he had all his equipment. It didn't help matters when Spock was notoriously close-lipped about matters of physiology and Vulcan rituals. Getting anything out of him was like pulling teeth.

"I'll leave you both to it," he said. He glanced at Chekov. Maybe Spock would find something McCoy couldn't during this procedure, but his being here wouldn't help that any more than if the doctor had tried it himself.

Edited 2010-01-26 09:20 (UTC)

Kirk's mouth opened to stop Bones from leaving, but then closed again after less than a second's consideration. In many ways, he and Spock barely knew each other — Kirk had heard about the Academy's Vulcan instructor, of course, but had never laid eyes on him until that fated day he'd had his disciplinary hearing. But in other ways, some more surreal than others, he also knew way more about Spock than any new acquaintance should've known, even ignoring the Spock in Bill's childhood memories. Kirk couldn't imagine what would require so much secrecy, but trusted that his first officer wouldn't have asked if it wasn't necessary.

"Alright, give us—" The rest of his words were drowned out by what sounded like a small explosion from outside the room. It took a moment for Kirk to pinpoint the noise as something he'd only heard before in old movies: a gunshot. Hayes, and the other two men outside. Well, he supposed that answered the question of whether or not that relic of a rifle worked. Now all they had to worry about what was out there which warranted getting shot at.

Never one to shy away from danger, Kirk moved automatically towards the exit, but came to a stop after just two steps, hands clenching at his sides. Most likely someone was getting hurt out there — maybe even the man who'd helped him last night — but he could feel the minutes ticking by. All they had between the four of them was a baseball bat, while the patients outside were fully armed. Go out to help and possibly just get in they way, or stay here and take advantage of whatever time they had left?

Either way, there was no getting out of this hallway tonight. Kirk cursed inwardly. "Chekov, tell me what's happening out there — but don't leave the room, no matter what you see." He glanced at Bones, letting him know the same went for him, before turning back to Spock with a slightly rueful smile. "Looks like this is the most privacy we're going to get, unless you think it can wait for later."

Edited 2010-01-29 23:58 (UTC)

[Apologies for the delay. D|]

"Aye, Keptain," Chekov said automatically. While his instincts told him that he wanted to stay in the nice safe room, his instincts also told him that if they were trapped, the room wouldn't be very safe anymore. And if both Commander Spock and Captain Kirk were going to be out of commission for a moment or two, both locked in a mind meld, they would need all of the guarding the ensign and the doctor could provide. ...which, when Chekov considered that, was an extremely nerve-wracking prospect. The two least-equipped members of the crew: guarding the two who had the most combat training.

Chekov gave a short sigh and muttered a soft 'ai yai yai' as he moved towards the door and opened it just a crack. He had to open it a little wider (unfortunately), to see what was going on.

It was difficult to tell at first, but then Chekov's eyes managed to pick out four... no, five humanoid figures locked in combat. The Russian winced as he realized that two were monsters--metallic-looking things with blades for hands. The weapons the three patients were using on these strange, puppet-like creatures seemed to be having no effect. There was a terrible screeching noise of metal-on-metal, like a blade unable to find purchase. He saw one of the creatures swing around to attack a patient behind it, and Chekov blanched and shut the door.

"Two... two metallic-like lifeforms, sir, with claws, attempting to atteck and possibly kill three prisoners, sir," Chekov stuttered, using 'sir' as though it were a nervous tic. "Zeir weapons appear to be ineffectiwe, sir, recommend not leawing ze room, sir."

Chekov had seen his fair share of the universe, but nothing that was impervious to gunfire and knives. And those clawed hands... if those things got into the room, there was no telling what could happen. Most of the crew was unarmed, save for Commander Spock--who possessed a bat. Somehow, Chekov had a feeling that the bat wouldn't fare any better than a gun or a knife.

In all honesty, Spock hadn't entirely expected McCoy's willingness to leave them to their own devices, particularly considering the fact Kirk was very much his patient. On the other hand, it was quite possible the doctor, being from a universe that was several years ahead of their own time, was aware of what Spock was alluding to, and therefore understood their need for privacy. Either way, Spock did not disapprove. Their time was limited, which allowed very little room for unnecessary debates.

Just as he was about to move toward the captain, however, a gunshot reached his ears, and Spock sharply turned to look at the door. An attack, no doubt, though it was impossible to know whether it was between prisoners and creatures, or perhaps an altercation solely among a group of captives, unless someone risked a look outside. Regardless, Spock doubted the hallway outside was safe, which meant that Kirk was likely correct in assuming they would not be able to speak privately.

Chekov's report only confirmed his suspicions, though the only outward sign of Spock's displeasure was the way in which his mouth subtly tightened. But he knew there was little helping their predicament now. Confronting the creatures Chekov was describing would be nothing short of foolish, especially given their lack of equipment. There was little for Spock to do except proceed with the meld as planned, provided that the captain agreed to it. If there was indeed any remaining damage from yesterday's situation, waiting could potentially put him in unnecessary danger.

With that in mind, Spock silently set the bat down against the wall beside the door. He turned to Kirk, straightening his shoulders. "I am prepared to do this now, Captain, so long as someone guards the door in the meantime."

Edited 2010-01-30 03:18 (UTC)

The doctor jumped at the loud crack that managed to penetrate the walls. He'd almost forgotten how loud primitive firearms were. A phaser set to kill was a horrifying business, a life wiped out in less than a second as their molecules were scattered and dispersed. But there was something equally terrible as a bullet impacting on flesh and bone and ricocheting around inside, or nearly blowing a wrist right off.

What if someone was injured in the attack? Even if it was dangerous, he had an obligation to help. McCoy was about to say just that when Kirk gave his orders. McCoy's mouth flew shut. He couldn't say he cared for them, lives could be at stake, but he could understand it. Jim's first priority was his crew. Even above others. And Spock was determined to carry out this mind meld.

For a moment, McCoy looked liked he'd have rather faced the gunshots all the same than remain in this room.

He moved away from the door anyway. It felt like there was a whole swarm of butterflies flapping about in his stomach. He uneasily watched as Spock set the bat down and then turned to Jim. The Vulcan was really dead-set on carrying this out, wasn't he? McCoy knew he was being irrational: they still didn't know what happened to Jim, and McCoy himself was quickly running out of options at the moment. They couldn't delay this any longer. If it meant finding out what happened, maybe even a way to treat the captain, help him, then who was he to stand in the way?

All the same, he found himself wishing Spock would wait, do it another time and somewhere else.

Edited 2010-01-30 16:27 (UTC)

Despite Chekov's unsettling report and Bones no doubt silently broadcasting his displeasure at being grounded, Kirk's eyes were on Spock. Vulcan facial expressions didn't provide a whole lot to work with, but perhaps he'd learned more than he'd thought in the short time they'd known each other. Maybe after he figured out the nuances of Spock's moods, Kirk could ask him how the hell he pulled off squaring his shoulders when they already looked perfectly square.

"Thank you, ensign," said Kirk, unable to repress a bit of a shudder at the mention of "blades for hands." He never wanted to visit the planet they'd pulled these creatures from. At least the metal door behind Chekov appeared to be as secure as anything found in a prison, despite the fact that no one ever actually locked them in these rooms. "Keep our exit sealed, then. It should hold until we figure out what to do next."

As strategies went, this was hardly ideal, but Kirk filled his voice with confidence anyway. Throwing a final look in McCoy's direction, he considered flashing a reassuring grin or wink, but couldn't manage anything but seriousness with the muted sounds of combat coming from outside. "We'll be right back."

[temporarily splitting off to here]

Edited 2010-01-31 02:46 (UTC)

The feeling of dread dragging on his stomach was growing. McCoy looked back at the door, the sounds of the scuffle going on outside loud despite the barrier between them.

Leaving a single ensign as security? What was Jim thinking? Mr. Chekov wasn't even armed with a phaser and it sounded like those things out there were more than a match for a single man. McCoy stared at the door for a moment, wondering what Jim expected Chekov to do if the thing came busting in. The ensign looked like you could knock him over with a breeze. Chekov might be a trained junior officer of Starfleet, and that had come with some combat training... but weight had a good deal to do with a good defense, alongside knowledge. Chekov didn't have weight on his side.

He'd just turned back from the door in time to see Spock lift his hand and place it to the meld points on Jim's face. The doctor suddenly went very still, eyes glued to the two of them.

A meld wasn't a terribly interesting thing to watch, not after you'd seen it a few times. It was eerie, alien, watching Spock and the other person become one, talk at the same time sometimes, their voices mingling even as their thoughts did, but there wasn't anything usually dramatic about it. Just two people standing stock still and joined by a single hand. It wasn't flashy and it wasn't dramatic.

The doctor couldn't look away. His heart started to pound in his chest, followed by a sensation of a band constricting around his ribcage.

[down to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/782634.html?thread=65186346#t65186346)]

Edited 2010-04-19 05:01 (UTC)

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Night 46: M41-50 Hallway

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