taxonomites | [voice]-- have you had your anti-chomovirus vaccination yet, folks?

Entry tags:

[voice]-- have you had your anti-chomovirus vaccination yet, folks?

Hell, if I’m gonna to be here a while…

All right, who here has medical experience? Surgical, nursing, pediatric? Or, access to equipment-- facilities, biofunction monitors, vaccinations. At this point, I’ll even take something as barbaric and invasive as an X-ray machine. An archaic bucket of bolts is better than guesswork.

The name’s Leonard McCoy, senior medical officer of the USS Enterprise. Not that that means a whole helluva lot to anyone listening who hasn’t heard of Starfleet-- government conspiracy my heel, kids these days-- so you’ll just have to take my word for it. I know what I’m doing, and I do it fast and right. But that takes room, and that's something I don't have.

I need free space to set up a medical wing, and people on-hand who’re willing to move along check-ups. With half of you blasted from every which brand of time and space, the number of germs in this place is enough to make the plague roll over and play dead. It’s a miracle half of you don’t have a case of Symbalene blood burn, walking around half-delusional with advanced cases of Rudellian brain fever at this point.

I’ve got minimum dosages of cordrazine, Masiform-D, neural paralyzer, sterilite, melanex, and tri-ox compound on hand, but it won’t last too long. A few other gadgets and a trauma kit, but that’s it. Slim pickings.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This isn't shore leave, Bones. This is some lunatic's twisted version of a joke.

Almost four weeks with no answers as to where we are, how we got here, or anything else of use. Seven and I have been working on it, but we haven't had any luck so far.

Would be helpful if I had the whole ship at my disposal and not just the bridge. Your guess is as good as mine as to how that works out.

Don't you think I know that, Jim? I wouldn't be setting up a damned clinic here if I trusted these people and their sense of medical know-how further than I could throw a stone.

Wait up there, Jim. Four weeks--? That's damn near impossible, unless you want to explain to me how, up until a few days ago, you were parading around on the bridge.

One still very attached to the hull of the Enterprise.

I've been parading around the bridge, but the former drone that makes up my crew of two, if you can even call it that, doesn't seem as amused by it as you. The bridge came with me--

[ give him a minute as he switches the feed to a holo ]

When the feed switches from a simple vocal transmission to a holographic one, Jim's form can clearly be seen sitting in his captain's chair, albeit out of uniform.

"See? Don't ask me how it works--I've been giving myself headaches over trying to understand how the senors work without an array to gather the information and the main computer to process it. Everything works, from environmental controls to tactical."

Jim slumps back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. "Not surprised to hear that I was still there. This place is fucked up like that. Should've been here a few weeks ago when there was a 'goddess' running around."

All right, all right. He'll switch on the holo function as well, but don't expect him to look pretty, or anything, more like dim frustration over the lines of his face, mixed in with relief here and there.

Seeing Jim in person-- somewhat-- was marginally better than listening to his disembodied voice.

"Now's not the time to be talking women, Jim." Scolded, because he'd rather not talk about gods, or any other blasted space madness that wasn't on the immediate to-do list.

"Forget about the bridge for a minute." A roll of eyes. Figures, he'd be the only man in the Universe capable of defying physical law in order to keep a fraction of a starship-- mainly that damn chair-- in his grasp. "If the Enterprise doesn't even know we're missing, that strikes me as being an issue."

Edited 2009-06-03 20:45 (UTC)

"Go and ruin my fun, will ya" Jim whines, understanding that the scolding wasn't serious, but playing along anyway. It's helping to keep some semblance of normalcy in the face of insanity that even with all he's been exposed to in his short twenty-five years is something he's having a difficult time grasping in its entirety.

"A big issue," he agrees with a heavy sigh. "One that others here have run into, I've noticed. They'll have seen someone not a moment ago, only to have them say they've been here for months. It doesn't make any goddamn sense, but it's just the way it is here. I doubt Voyager has even noted Seven's disappearance--"

He pauses, realizing that Bones doesn't know who that is.

"Seven of Nine, a former Borg drone from the 24th Century. She was assimilated by a cybernetic race from the Delta Quadrant called the Borg that we've yet to encounter in our time and separated from the Collective by the crew of the starship Voyager. She's as close to Starfleet personnel as we're going to get here outside of you and I."

And, just because he can, Jim grins. "She's not bad to look at, either."

Have some more of the familiar, as Bones sighed and rolled his eyes in a near circular motion, a look usually reserved for Jim's antics, and more recently extended to include certain Vulcans.

"You're going to be a real whiz at filling in those detailed reports." Quipped back. But the mental image of the old foogies who ran starfleet making one hell of a face at a planetary report that read; 'terrain: not bad, has some curvy scenery, if you know what I mean; was both inappropriate, and the reason why they got along.

Mostly.

Jim did have that certain something, and right now, it wasn't enough.

"24th Century, Borgs, Delta Quadrant... I'm waiting for someone to say something that makes any god damn sense around here, and I feel like I shouldn't be holding my breath." Hated to admit it, but some green-blooded logic might have been useful right around now, if agitating.

"Well, Jim. I hate to say it, but three is only better than one in certain situations. If you've been here weeks and still nothing..." He didn't intend to sound defeatist, but. "Nothing's going to happen until we can figure out what's keeping this place going, what brought us here, and why. It doesn't seem like senseless warping to me. And I've had enough black hole theory for my lifetime, thanks."

Jim laughs and grins. "I believe one of my duties as a captain is giving those desk jockey, paperwork-pushing admirals a hard time. Gotta keep their humdrum, Command-bound lives interesting somehow."

In true Jim Kirk fashion, he flip-flopped from grinning idiot to serious commanding officer within a fraction of a second, that lighthearted look vanishing and instantly being replaced with one of near-neutrality. He could indulge trivialities later. God knew he had the time in this place.

"I'm not giving up on getting us out of here, Bones. I don't believe in no-win scenarios, remember? I'll figure it out eventually."

If it was another black hole, he hoped it at least didn't come with it's own set of angry, time traveling Romulans. He'd had enough of that.

"Oh? I don't recall that one in the handbook. But then again, maybe that's why it's you in the chair, and not me." There were a lot of reasons as to why it was Jim in the chair, and not him. For example, because Bones had his own chair, in sick bay, one that he was hardly a resident of, as doctor's prefer to be on their feet. And secondly--

Because near-tragic report writing skills aside, Jim deserved to be there. A guy could hear it in his tone, for god's sakes-- cocky kid, but if he lived up to his words, a heroic one. And Bones always had done his best not to doubt Jim, even when his words got a little bit mad.

So he'd believe him, if Jim said there was a way off this middle-of-nowhere rock, and he planned on finding it. If anyone could, anyway, it'd be Jim, hands down.

"Right, I'm holding you to that. In the meantime..." And if he didn't trust strangers to whatever alien viruses were running amok around here, then... "You could use a checkup."

A pause, and then a slight grin, right in the corner of his mouth.

"Missed me, didn't you." Or more accurately, missed those hyposprays.

Jim frowned at the mental image of Spock sitting in what was now rightfully his chair in lieu of his absence, granted a copy of himself hadn't been left behind when he'd been taken. That was a headache-inducing concept within itself and probably something he'd have a harder time buying if not for the fact that he knew for a fact there were two Spocks--but that was another headache entirely. He and Spock--his Spock--may have reached an understanding, a common ground, and respected one another, friendship was something that was still in the early stages of development. Whether or not they'd become as good of friends as the elder Spock and the other Jim Kirk had been was yet to be determined.

Not that such mattered at the moment, for Jim was pleased to have his best friend here. Seven of Nine was good company, but she couldn't quite replace someone who knew him as well as Bones did.

Jim made a face. "I think I'll pass on the check-up. Last thing I need is a pair of swollen hands."

Edited 2009-06-06 17:03 (UTC)

A healthy shake of his head was the reply Jim would get, and Bones was quick to remind, "Never seen a reaction that bad. Your hands matched your head for a while, didn't they?" Bloated. But he accompanies that with a shadow of a smile, to show he was kidding-- mostly, anyway... well... a little bit, certainly-- before bouncing back to defend his medical honour.

Whatever of it he had left, after pulling a stunt like that.

"You may have been allergic to the pathogen. Or, possibly, something in the antidote. Stop being such a huge baby, Jim. There's worse out there then having mitts for hands."

It was Jim's turn to roll his eyes as he threw his hands up in surrender and slumped back in his chair. "Fine, you can check me over and make sure I'm not riddled with disease, Bones--but we're doing this here." He gestured around him at the bridge. "I'm not stepping foot in one of those turn-of-the-century hospitals."

Edited 2009-06-08 19:05 (UTC)

Just had to be a special snowflake, didn't he? While Bones doesn't like 'turn of the century' anything when it had to do with medicine, it still somehow seemed like a bad idea, to give the first command-chair medical checkup.

"On the bridge of the Enterprise? In a medical gown? Jim, no disrespect meant, but your voyeurism is going a bit far if you're demanding a checkup in front of a huge vid screen." A shake of his head.

But you had to give a little, right?

"Fine, we'll do it there."

Jim retaliated with an irritated, almost bored look. He held up a finger. "One, there's something called turning off the huge vid screen." He held up another. "Two, no way in hell are you getting me in one of those gowns."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[voice]-- have you had your anti-chomovirus vaccination yet, folks?

[ voice ]

[ voice ]

[ voice ] (1/2)

[ holo ] (2/2)

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]

[ holo ]