Night 47: Pharmacy

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[From here]

McCoy stumbled in several feet but managed to stop himself from unceremoniously ending up on the floor. Spock, of course, didn't. Even though the door had dumped them in suddenly, why was it that he was the one that nearly ended up on his face? He glowered at the Vulcan, then straightened and took stock of the room.

There were a sizable number of circular shelves, occupied with boxes, and further off, what looked like an ancient computer.

He couldn't see too much more than that: even as he stepped into the room, the flashlight could only penetrate so far. The shelves were tall, and, McCoy noted, didn't look like they could stand a single buckle or toss of a ship. It would never fly on the Enterprise: with the way Jim put the ship through her paces during red alerts, things had a tendency to go sailing across the room, people included. He learned early on that making sure everything was properly secured as an extra safety precaution. He wasn't nearly as used to seeing things left unsecured after so long in space. He could just imagine what would happen to the room with just one good toss.

McCoy mentally shook his head. It was an accident waiting to happen. He stepped further inside.

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[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

The first officer glanced toward McCoy, but made no comment as the doctor regained his bearings. If Spock had retained his full strength, then such measures would not have been necessary. McCoy's specialty obviously did not involve exerting physical force in any sort of situation, yet Spock was uncertain was to whether he would have succeeded in breaking the door alone. Regardless, although forcefully opening the door was not the ideal method of entering the room, it appeared they had managed to successfully enter without drawing any unwanted attention -- at least, for the time being. Spock gently nudged the door to where it was only partially opened, believing it unwise to leave them completely exposed from the back, but unwilling to close off their only known means of escape.

With that finished, Spock clicked on his light, allowing another beam to enhance their ability to see. Several circular shelves were positioned throughout the room, each carrying an array of white boxes. If this was indeed the pharmacy, then it was likely medicine. Since the shelves were so tall, however, Spock realized they would need to carefully navigate the room while searching for supplies.

"We should not allow ourselves to become separated," Spock quietly said as he moved toward the doctor.

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"Oh? I didn't know Vulcans could show concern now," McCoy said testily. Where was that concern when those patients were being attacked (probably still were under attack), or when Chekov was being harassed? Hell, he was probably only concerned about Chekov since losing a well-trained navigator would impact the ship's performance.

McCoy, somewhat contrarily, moved further into the room, flashlight trailing on the shelves. He didn't see or hear anything so far. He wasn't about to tip toe around and run the risk of the ground being yanked out from under them prematurely. Maybe the logical thing to do was watch his own hide first. McCoy had enough of Spock's logic to last the night. He had a responsibility to the crew and future patients, which meant being equipped to handle their cases. He'd take the risk.

The doctor, studying a nearby shelf, slowed. His eyebrow started to rise at the first glance of the nearest labels.

Vicodin, Nexium, Sulfamethoxazole, Diphenhydramine hydrochloride.

Some pretty ancient stuff here, McCoy thought. And that was just skimming the surface. He picked up a bottle. A 120 mL of Sinequan. Lorazepam. All of them had been mentioned in older textbooks; a scant few of them were still in use currently back where he came from, a good deal were altered, while some of these were just plain obsolete, replaced by something better. He'd only seen most of these back during med school, and actually in use in less developed settlements. It was a wonder some of these were even prescribed back in the day: the side effects on some of these were a steep price to pay. This was from a time when people thought kidney dialysis and drilling holes in people's heads were the answers.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

The comment was uncalled for, particularly given the circumstances. Whether he was concerned or not had little bearing on the fact that they were putting themselves at risk by wandering amid these shelves, in a room where they had a limited perspective of the area around them. McCoy's tone, as well as the manner in which he stubbornly put more distance between them despite the Vulcan's directions, suggested he was upset. Though Spock could think of a few possibilities as to why he would exhibit such behavior, it was difficult to know for certain without asking.

Intent on putting their safety first, Spock followed after McCoy, closing the gap between them. "You speak as though you are dissatisfied with either my conduct regarding the combat situation outside, or my explanation of the incident involving Mr. Chekov this morning," he quietly spoke. If he harbored some sort of criticism regarding such issues, then Spock wished for McCoy voice them now, rather than allow him to behave in such an irrational way for the rest of the night.

He was not closed to the idea of gaining an alternative perspective to his methods by any means, but that did not mean he was going to tolerate actions that seemed contrary merely for the sake of being contrary.

That was not to say that Spock had lost sight of their main purpose for their investigation, however. As he addressed McCoy, he took to scanning some of the contents of the shelves. He imagined many of these medicines reflected primitive 21st century Earth medicine, and he trusted Dr. McCoy to know which varieties would suit their needs.

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

McCoy had been studying what looked like a container of morphine. Even if it was outdated, McCoy wasn't about to take it lightly. He'd only seen it used rarely himself and with good reason. The drug was highly powerful, but also highly addictive. There had always been better alternatives. That was under better circumstances too. He hesitated, then carefully slipped both the bottle and the tube into the pillow case.

He was just reaching for another container, warfarin, when Spock came up behind him. It felt like he had a second shadow. A second shadow that had gift for stating the obvious.

McCoy glared at him, although he got the feeling that was as useful as trying to do the same to a brick wall. "'Dissatisfied' doesn't begin to cover it," he began. Spock wanted his opinion? All right then, he was going to get it. "I don't like leaving people like that. It's not right. You said they had the option to retreat, but how do we even know that thing won't follow them? Or that they don't injure themselves running? Or a hundred other things that could go wrong? You don't know any more than I do that they'll be safe."

He put the vial back. He couldn't see any immediate use for warfarin: he had limited space before it became unsafe to carry that pillow case. Analgesics, antimicrobial agents, bandages and whatever else they could come up with had a higher priority. He turned and, skipping over the nexium, picked up what was marked as naproxen. This too went into the makeshift bag.

"And Chekov? The ensign just got targeted out of the blue without any provocation on his part by a bigger patient, and you want to call it quits after you bailed him out? What makes you think it's over? Logic doesn't always predict an emotional reaction, Mr. Spock. Or its outcome. You especially should know that better than anyone," McCoy added pointedly. It was a low blow, especially considering all his Spock had done to get them off of Taurus II alive, even when he had half the away team needling him.

McCoy wasn't proud of his actions that day. Even if they argued and bickered constantly, McCoy had gone too far on that mission. He'd been out of line. Lieutenant Boma had been right next to him in being outright insubordinate, and he'd been court-martialed soon after. McCoy deserved it himself and yet he was still serving on the Enterprise. Jim hadn't said a thing. Neither had Spock or Scotty, and yet, in his eyes, he was just as guilty as Boma. He'd tried to keep out of Spock's hair in the meantime. Things had been noticeably subdued for a few weeks after that... at least until everything seemed settle back to the way it was before between them and Spock threw the first insult.

But it was a hard lesson overall. For Spock especially. The Vulcan had been faced with undeniable proof that despite whatever perfect, logical moves he made, he was no more capable of predicting the future than McCoy was. And they'd nearly lost their lives because of it.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

Yes, dissatisfied did seem to be somewhat inaccurate in this case. The manner in which McCoy had stared at him, with hard eyes and furrowed eyebrows, demonstrated that he was indeed upset. It was not the first time anyone had reacted in such a way toward him, and Spock knew it would not be the last. While the Vulcan saw no reason not to take a moment to discuss the issue, he knew it was possible they would need to agree to disagree until they could have a more in-depth conversation during daylight hours.

McCoy did indeed raise valid points regarding the fact that they did not know the creature's capabilities, nor the patients' odds of successfully escaping if they chose to take such a course of action. Naturally, however, there were two sides to every equation. "Nor do you know anymore than I do that we would have been successful in providing assistance," Spock promptly replied. "With every possible factor that could go wrong in leaving them to escape, there is that much of a possibility that we would have found ourselves in great danger if we had helped. With our scant equipment and supplies, Doctor, how do you propose we should have gone about intervening?"

Surely McCoy had noticed their blade. Such a weapon appeared to have been more suitable for the creature they were fighting. A single piece of sporting equipment and two flashlights would have likely caused more harm than good if they had chosen to become involved.

As for the matter involving Chekov, Spock had already made it clear that it was in the Captain's hands. It was not his place to pursue the issue further unless he: 1) witnessed another immediate problem, or 2) Kirk thought it was necessary. The science officer was about to explain as much, but he had not anticipated McCoy's last statement. He regarded the man with a faintly puzzled expression. While it was true that it was difficult to predict certain behavior with 100 percent accuracy, it was peculiar that McCoy would insist that he ought to be intimately familiar with such a concept.

"I do not understand what you are attempting to insinuate," he said in an even tone.

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

Somehow Spock had managed to turn his point back on himself, and managed to do it flawlessly. McCoy glowered at him. Of course he wasn't a fortune teller: he was a doctor, but the only way they would have known with any certainty was to actually attempt intervening.

And of all the-- Spock was expecting him to make tactical decisions now? He wasn't command either, and McCoy didn't have some plan worthy of Jim ready. All he knew was that it was just wrong to leave those people like that. Maybe he didn't have a plan, but rushing in seemed better than ignoring their plight.

"I don't know, damn you. We could have provided a distraction or something, given them time to escape," The doctor would've thrown up his hands in frustration if they weren't full. He settled for moving down the shelf instead. McCoy tried to focus on the labels on the containers. It wasn't easy, not when you had a Vulcan hovering over your shoulder and calmly providing plenty of reasons why it was better not to help another living being.

And Spock thought that their safety out-weighed the others? In McCoy's mind, there wasn't any such distinction. Patients, other people came first. And Spock had said it himself, it was only a possibility they'd get injured themselves.

"It's not about worrying about your own personal safety. Their lives are just as important as ours!" McCoy growled. "The least we could have done is try and help them. We didn't even try. At least we could have done something! We could at least have known then."

He picked up what looked like oxycodone, studying it. Spock had fallen silent about Chekov. McCoy knew he'd bring it up to Jim later. It was his duty as First Officer. But McCoy wanted him to watch out for the ensign himself too. The last thing he wanted to see was Chekov in trouble. Or worse, as a patient because they weren't on their guard.

McCoy looked at Spock, even as he proclaimed ignorance on what he'd just said. McCoy grimaced. He didn't want to relive those hours on Taurus II and he hadn't wanted to bring it up unless it was necessary. But it was necessary now. Spock was making the same steps, if not literally, that his Spock had. "The you I know had a crash course lesson on the subject when our away team crashed on a planet. He tried using solely logic to guide his actions against the natives. He wasn't prepared for an emotional reaction that went completely against that logic. We almost got killed because of it. We lost two men."

He said after a moment. "It was his first command."

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

He was assuming the patients had wanted to escape in the first place. They had not appeared as thought they had been caught unawares. Perhaps if they had been actively attempting to flee, Spock would have been more willing to step in. Seeing as they hadn't, however, he had made the decision to continue their course to the pharmacy.

Still, there were some misconceptions regarding his line of reasoning that Spock believed needed to be corrected.

"My personal safety was not my primary concern," Spock said, his tone suddenly growing rather frigid. "As an officer of Starfleet, one of my duties is to protect life. To protect life and to recklessly throw oneself into a perilous situation, without considering the full consequences, are not one in the same. Furthermore, not only is it my responsibility to make certain we obtain enough supplies to effectively fulfill such duties in the future, it is also my obligation to ensure our Chief Medical Officer, who is currently unarmed, remains alive and unharmed."

It went without saying that without their Chief Medical Officer, they, including other patients who may become injured in the future, would be at a severe disadvantage. Spock believed McCoy was incorrect in claiming that his motivations in staying away from the fight were selfish.

He listened to the doctor's explanation of his earlier statement, though as the man spoke, Spock's gaze drifted toward the bottle of medicine in McCoy's hand. He was familiar with a different chain of events that demonstrated the reasons why Kirk had been promoted to Captain and he had not. Spock was not resentful of this, as the fact remained that command was merely a void to be filled, not something one should seek after for the sake of ego or power. It had been under Kirk's leadership that they had saved the Federation. In all likelihood, his own strategy to rendezvous with the rest of the fleet in the Laurentian system would not have ended well.

"I believe I have said this before, but I shall remind you again," he said as he suddenly made eye contact with McCoy, his gaze unwavering and perhaps even more stoic than usual. "I am not the Spock from your universe. In fact, you should know that it was originally myself who was appointed captain of the Enterprise, with Captain Kirk as my First Officer."

Spock's mouth faintly pressed into a thin line as dark eyes swept over toward the shelf in front of him.

"I have held command before."

And he was certainly aware of his own short-comings.

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

Spock was angry. Or annoyed. It was hard to tell with Spock for sure, but McCoy had been around him long enough that he could tell when it was happening. The signs were all there, Spock getting extra cold, face seeming to freeze into place. He was showing about as much emotion right now as the nearest computer. Or rock.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Spock was a pacifist. He had no problems using his phaser in defense, and McCoy suspected that Spock was a far better shot than he was with those things. Probably even better than Jim. Spock was definitely more militarily minded than he was. It came with being First Officer. But Vulcans abhorred violence, regarded it as a product of emotion. That pacifism certainly didn't show with the way he calculated risk, including lives in the process as if those lives were nothing but parts of an equation... but back on Taurus II, Spock's aversion to violence had also nearly cost them their lives with that miscalculation.

"We aren't protecting life right now, Mr. Spock. And as Chief Medical Officer, I can't subscribe to that philosophy of yours. Those supplies won't mean much to someone who's hurt or already dead because we were negligent now," McCoy replied just as stubbornly. One day, by the time Spock had considered all possible consequences on something, it was going to be too late. He hoped he wasn't around to see it.

McCoy picked up another vial and placed it into the sack, then moved on. He added crossly. "And I don't need you chaperoning me all over the institute. I was causin' trouble before you were even born. I can watch out for myself just fine."

He could feel Spock growing impossibly more stoic right next to him. He couldn't imagine how it felt to be told that another version of yourself had actually made mistakes, miscalculated. Spock's voice was tight and very, very controlled as he spoke again. McCoy looked at his profile sharply, surprised. What was this now? Spock having captaincy over Jim? What the devil had happened? He had no doubt Spock had it in him to be captain, but he'd always seemed perfectly content to serve under Jim. He couldn't imagine Jim staying too happy for long as First Officer either. The man was born to command a starship.

He got what he was saying, perfectly. Maybe he had more command experience but it didn't change much in his eyes. This wasn't quite his Spock, but it was still Spock. The basic facts were still the same. A man determined to out-do just about every other Vulcan alive. And with it came the same strengths and flaws.

"Maybe you've had command before, but you're making the same mistakes," McCoy said quietly.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

The situation would have been different if they were both armed, if they had larger numbers on their side, or if they had actually witnessed a patient sustain brutal injuries. But reality had not encompassed any of those things, which was why they were currently looking for supplies in the pharmacy. McCoy was also failing to consider that he did not have as much experience with the facility as himself, and thus was not in any position to make judgments regarding what was worth the risk, and what wasn't.

"Although you may have lived more years than myself, the fact remains that you are unarmed and indispensable, and I outrank you," Spock replied simply. "Furthermore, it is worth noting that those who control our environment have the power to destroy our lives within a matter of moments. There are a variety of factors concerning this institute that you are not aware of, which is precisely why it is dangerous for you to involve yourself in conflicts when you are not properly equipped."

There was a certain touch of irony to McCoy's words regarding his "mistakes" -- what would he think, Spock wondered, if he knew the reasons behind his losing command? Emotionally compromised: somehow, that very phrase did not quite suit someone who lost two men due to an unwavering reliance on logic, and a plan that did not take into account an irrational reaction from their enemies. It had been Spock's own irrational behavior, provoked by Kirk in front of the bridge crew, that had ultimately been his undoing. Though the entire episode was something Spock was inclined to put behind him now that the Nero crisis was settled, it didn't change that it had happened.

It was also proof to Spock that this McCoy did not know him as well as he believed he did.

"I suspect the situation then was quite different from what we are facing now," Spock answered just as quietly as he turned away, presumably to shine his light onto the darker reaches of the room. "Your comments have been noted, however. If you have further complaints, you are certainly free to speak with the Captain."

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

McCoy had been about to point out that the situation was different, but he was running the same risks with that determination to stick solely to logic, that others could pay the price for it. He never got a chance. The doctor shut up instead. He didn't agree at all, but Spock had cornered him and just like that, with a single icy reminder of their respective places, the matter was decidedly over. McCoy still couldn't believe Spock actually pulled rank on him just now. He never forgot that Spock was a commander, and that he was a lieutenant commander himself, but McCoy also got away with a lot of backtalk and arguing with his Spock all the same: the kind that no one else dared to try on their own commanding officer, much less Spock, of all people.

He'd taken it for granted after awhile. Spock rarely, if ever, pulled rank on him. Jim did a number of times, but Spock?

It was just another reminder that this Spock was slightly different in a number of places. The doctor gave the Vulcan's back a long, hard look before he looked away. He didn't have any new complaints. Spock would take them to the captain, but he didn't think Chekov was in danger, because if you followed logic, thought like a Vulcan, there wouldn't be. McCoy didn't believe that for a second. He'd just keep an eye on the ensign himself.

McCoy moved further downwards, checking the next set of shelves. This would take longer if he was the only one gathering supplies, and if he could get Spock to help, he could have some breathing space too.

He broke the silence, somewhat stiffly. "Keep an eye out for analgesics and antimicrobial agents. If you aren't familiar with any of the names, check with me first. We're also in need of bandages and hypos. Or syringes," McCoy added, as an afterthought. "Sir."

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

His words had silenced McCoy, but the tension between them indicated he was still upset. Spock didn't believe that there was anything else he could say to alleviate the doctor's concerns; consequently, he chose not to elaborate on the issue. Though the Vulcan was certainly open to receiving input from his subordinates, this was neither the time nor the place to have a debate over whether McCoy needed Spock to serve as his "chaperone". The institute was possibly more dangerous than either of them could imagine, least of all McCoy, who had not witnessed the horrid spectacle of Spock's death a few nights ago. For now, he believed he was making the correct decision by carrying on with their mission without stopping to interfere in the conflict behind them.

Regardless, it appeared they were able to focus on the task at hand now that they were no longer arguing over their current plans. When McCoy offered his suggestion, the First Officer gave a simple nod and replied, "Very well." Satisfied that they were in no immediate danger, he turned toward the shelf in front of him and began running his flashlight beam along the labels. Analgesics and antimicrobial drugs were likely easy to locate, although Spock doubted they would find anything more advanced than 21st century medicine. With two of them focusing on different areas of the room, however, they would likely acquire a fair amount of supplies.

After a few minutes of investigating, Spock located a bottle labeled as penicillin and lifted it from the shelf. Having brought along an empty pillow case for the express purpose of carrying their supplies, he dropped two inside and slowly began making his way toward the next shelf. Because injuries seemed to heal at an accelerated rate, Spock believed it would probably be best to locate more analgesics. In all likelihood, such medicines would be useful for those who wished to engage in nighttime investigations, but were still troubled by injuries that were not completely healed.

Not that he would be among those patients, of course, but few people had the same tolerance for pain as Vulcans.

After a long stretch of silence, Spock located another bottle -- this time, it was labeled "tylenol". As he read the label, he quietly spoke. "When we are finished collecting what we need from this area, it may be wise to assess the situation outside and reevaluate our strategy if necessary."

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

Spock, thankfully, took to the suggestion without any further insistence that they remain joined at the hip. He must have deemed the room safe at the moment, because he finally stopped tailing behind McCoy. He watched him head off before doing the same himself.

The doctor hadn't realized his shoulders had tightened up until he had a shelf between him and the Vulcan. He only felt himself actually relax when he rounded another, settling in on the other side. McCoy moved through the various bottles, ignoring some over others. These went into the bag after careful consideration. None of these drugs, at least in their current forms, were anything he'd ever use on a patient under better circumstances. Unfortunately, circumstances weren't going to get better just because of a doctor's grumbling either.

The next several minutes passed in a long, awkward silence. Normally it would have been moderately comfortable (which was odd when he thought about it. Who knew Vulcans could be comfortable?), but now he felt just as awkward as the times when Jim angrily silenced him, except at least he was used to that. Then again, he wasn't of the habit to go messing with other universes. He knew what to expect back home. Here he had a Spock that was familiar in a lot of ways, and alien to him in other smaller ways.

He supposed this was a good example of why he should take some of his own medicine and not get too comfortable around them. He'd noted earlier that it was a danger, but it'd still been so easy to fall right in line with this Jim as if it were completely natural. They might be close enough to his friends and crew, but this was just a reminder that they came from somewhere completely different. He couldn't even begin to imagine how far those differences went: they had them signed on the Enterprise much younger than where he'd come from, and Jim hadn't even been captain initially? McCoy just couldn't see that panning out. Spock himself was also subtly different. And if this was anything to go by, the him over there didn't even needle Spock every chance he got: Spock seemed unused to it.

Or maybe he'd just gotten used to his Spock being surprisingly indulgent.

Spock spoke again, almost startling McCoy out of his train of thought. He looked up, but Spock remained where he was, his flashlight partially obscured by the set of shelves.

"What's to reevaluate, sir?" McCoy asked, just barely able to restrain the discontent seeping through all the same. You already seem set on the strategy you have, you blasted hobgoblin, he thought.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

He couldn't see McCoy from where he was, which made Spock remain all the more alert. Under normal circumstances, even the subtlest movements through the room alone would have been enough to pinpoint his location. Unfortunately, however, it appeared his hearing had been hampered along with his strength, which was why Spock largely had to depend on his voice in order to gauge his position among the shelves.

Consequently, the change in tone wasn't lost on Spock, nor was the forced show of respect. In all honesty, he wasn't overly concerned with whether each statement to him was punctuated with "sir", particularly when dire circumstances didn't always allow the time for such formalities. On the other hand, much of McCoy's behavior since they had entered the pharmacy was borderline disrespectful. Certainly, it was true that McCoy was technically not from the Enterprise as Spock knew it, which would possibly account for the overly familiar way in which he argued with him even when they were in unfamiliar territory. That was not to say he never engaged in similar conversation with his own Chief Medical Officer, of course. Yet the key difference here was that the McCoy he knew had waited until after he had ejected Kirk from the ship to challenge him, and that had only been after Spock had approached him first to acknowledge his difficulties throughout the matter.

Perhaps over time they would reach some sort of understanding; however, their finding the means to return to their respective times and places before such a development became necessary was obviously ideal.

"I cannot say for certain until we assess whether the situation has changed," Spock evenly replied. There were too many unknown variables to give an accurate statistical analysis of what was waiting for them once they were finished collecting medicine. Any guesses he gave would merely be that -- guesses, which were useless to them at that moment.

"How many bottles of medicine do you suggest we remove, Doctor?" he added after a moment. Considering how many doses each bottle contained, Spock doubted they needed to be here much longer. Still, he imagined the CMO would have a realistic idea of what he required, and he trusted his medical expertise.

[hes-deadjim.livejournal.com]

That answer didn't surprise him in the least. Spock had an aversion to taking his best shot and making a guess, even when it wouldn't do much harm in doing so. It wasn't the first time he'd heard Spock say something along the lines: that it was unwise to form a speculation until they had all the facts, or that whatever it was was unexplainable at this time.

McCoy could understand that well enough. You didn't want to make a jump that was horrifically off, but at the same time, Spock's definitions of "all the facts" and his definition didn't exactly meet all the time either. Spock was a man who demanded perfection, completion, which had a way of applying to his various hypothesis and their formation. It was methodical, logical, and to McCoy, utterly slow half the time. Usually by the time you had all the facts, every single known variable accounted for, you didn't need a Vulcan to spell out what was going on half the time.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say just that, but he remembered himself in time. Spock had made it very clear what he expected and it wasn't his place to go mouthing off. So McCoy held his tongue and continued his work. He moved on further into the room.

He wasn't seeing any bandages yet. That didn't look like a good sign. There was a point where medicine could only do so much, and looking at this laundry list of ancient drugs in this room, none of them included rapidly stopping someone from bleeding out all over the floor. McCoy skimmed the shelves, removing more bottles.

"Three each should do it," the doctor answered, voice muffled. Three was pushing it. They might have to limit themselves to one or two. He would've said to take as much as they could carry, better safe than sorry McCoy thought, but it was unsafe with these pillow cases, and no matter what he thought of the facility's methods, or their complete irresponsibility towards patients, they still appeared to have a need for these for patients during the day. He couldn't completely deprive them of that.

[dual-worlds.livejournal.com]

As McCoy spoke, Spock continued to skim over the medicine labels. He, too, had noticed there was little in the way of first aid supplies. Considering the fact this facility posed as a hospital during the day, however, it seemed likely that they would be able to find items to use for injuries if they looked long enough. The main issue was whether they could succeed in doing so before their time ran out.

"If we are going to attempt to search for more supplies, Doctor, I believe it is necessary for us to leave the pharmacy now," he spoke up as he dropped a few more bottles of medicine into his pillowcase. "It appears we have attained a sufficient variety of medicines."

It would have been ideal if the commotion outside had dwindled, though there was no use in planning a strategy around a convenient assumption. For now, they would have to decide their future course of action once they had a better grasp on the present situation.

Possessions in order, Spock made his way over to the pharmacy's exit and patiently waited for Dr. McCoy. Once it appeared he was ready to follow, he turned and led the way out into the hall.

((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/814398.html?thread=66774334#t66774334).))