Disclaimer: In the immortal words of Robin Hood 'It's not stealing, just…borrowing from those who can afford it.'
Wow, so am I ever late to the party? This is my first Star Trek fic, and my first sojourn into writing for a hideously long time. I am trying to find my feet again, so if I am a little rusty, please forgive me. Concrit and suggestions are always welcome. I am so (nervous) excited I am twitching right now!
I only just got around to watching the reboot – I live under a rock, what can I say? – but I do remember watching TOS and squealing gleefully when Kirk did/said something that landed him in trouble, McCoy growled and looked bad tempered, and Spock tried to decide whether to wring Jim's neck or save it.
As Genesis is my first attempt to dip my toes into the water, it is shamelessly self-indulgent. Which means lots of hurt/comfort, Jim being a brilliant and reckless fool, McCoy singlehandedly attempting to keep Jack Daniels in business and Spock spending lots of time trying to make sense of his captain.
There's enough hinting at K/S to class as slash, but nothing more explicit than is canon (though that might change).
Anyway, enough rambling. I will aim to update once or twice a week, and I hope you enjoy reading.
The story takes place between the Enterprise's miraculous escape from the vortex, and the final scene of the movie.
I look around at the new cadets now and can't help thinking... has it really been so long? Wasn't it only yesterday we stepped onto the Enterprise as boys? That I had to prove to the crew I deserved command... and their respect?
-James T. Kirk (Deleted Scene from XI)
In the hours following the destruction of the Narada any well-earned celebration of their own success had quickly been put aside in favor of more practical realities. Running a starship was a laborious task on the best of days, and with a cracked hull, no warp, and a large proportion of the crew still nursing injuries from battle, the task of limping back home seemed almost as insurmountable as the odds they had only just overcome.
Out of immediate peril, and on a trajectory for Earth plotted by Ensign Chekov, the weary bridge crew had been ordered to take a much needed six hour break to their duties. As Uhura had stumbled to her shared quarters, she had not expected to easily find sleep, but within moments of slipping between the cool sheets of her bed, the last dregs of adrenaline leached from her system, and slumber had been an almost instant occurrence.
A pre-set alarm woke her with a start as the young nurse assigned to share Uhura's cabin fell through the doorway and slumped senselessly over the edge of her own bed. The sight gave Uhura a stir of discomfort at the thought of sleeping while others had worked tirelessly, but she knew rationally there had been no other option but to take the rest their Captain had ordered.
The young officers on the bridge crew were all hard working and dedicated, but they still had their limits. All of them been pushed far beyond what they could reasonably endure.
It had been less than two days since the moment Uhura had set foot on the Enterprise, full of excitement and the drive to excel. Now the seat that had never meant to be hers felt like the only place she belonged, and the friend she had eagerly awaited to discover in the nurse sharing her cabin was too exhausted to even introducer herself.
So much had happened to them in such a short space of time. They were all reeling as they attempted to find some stability.
A quick shower and a fresh uniform saw Uhura fit to seek refreshment in the Mess. Before leaving, she paused to unfasten her sleeping roommate's boots, and cover her with the blanket from the cot. She'd make sure to look up her name for the next time they bumped into one another.
Outside of the quiet solace of her cabin, life on the Enterprise was just as she had left it. Crew membered hurried about their duties, looking haggard and frayed, but all sharing the same look of fierce determination. No matter how busy they were or how bone weary they felt, they all took a moment to meet the gaze of anyone passing their way. They had all shared in the triumph over the Nerada, and now they turned the same kindred spirit to enduring the long trudge home.
There probably wasn't a person aboard who didn't entertain as much dread for their arrival on Earth as they did anticipation.
Reports from the rest of the fleet were quick to circulate: they knew they were the only ones left.
Uhura quickly pushed that thought away. Soon, she would mourn those who had lost their lives so needlessly, but until then she would honor their memories by better serving those who still lived.
The Officer's Mess was usually a very reserved, calm place to unwind after a long shift. Today, it was filled beyond capacity as it struggled to accommodate not only the crew and their Vulcan passengers, but also the Junior rates whose own Mess Hall on Deck 6 had been destroyed during the attack.
Dozens of caterers were loading trays full of rations and refreshments to be transported out to various departments. Engineering were famous for their lack of self-preservation during a crisis and would be reluctant to leave their positions to seek out sustenance; Medical could probably not afford to spare the precious manpower.
As there was still an hour before she was due back on the bridge, Uhura took her meal to go, and followed the haggard looking Yeoman who was propelling trays out of the hall.
Kirk had ordered them off duty, yes, but he'd not been specific in how they should spend those hours. She was being obtuse, but not acting in contempt, and half looked forward to a verbal sparring match with her new captain should he find offence with her interpretation of his orders.
As irritating and brilliant as Kirk was, there had never been a moment in their extremely volatile relationship where Uhura hadn't enjoyed arguing with him.
Stepping out the turbolift with the young Yeoman, Uhura was suddenly confronted with the booming baritone of the ship's acting Chief Medical Officer. People joked that you could hear McCoy from the other-side of space, he liked to bellow so much, and it was only armed with the knowledge that this was actually his normal behavior that saved Uhura from the same nervous twitch of fear that overcame the Yeoman beside her.
She smiled over at the Yeoman. "His bark is worse than his bite." An attempt to reassure was shot out of the water when a nurse, surely old enough to withstand a good tongue-lashing, practically ran them both over in his haste to escape from the line of fire.
"I'm a doctor, not a goddamn kindergarten teacher! Act your age, man!"
McCoy was in the middle of a spectacular rant as he shot from one patient to the other, overseeing the diagnostics made by his staff, and making his own where necessary. If he had seen any sleep since they had first left Earth's orbit, it didn't look like it had done him any good. His face was lined with stress and shadowed with stubble he usually kept clean-shaven.
Through the course of her interaction with Kirk over the last few years – as limited as she attempted to keep it – Uhura had come to believe that the friendship the doctor shared with the maverick Cadet Kirk was genuine and caring. She wondered then why Kirk had not ordered McCoy to take rest as he had so firmly done with the Command Crew.
"You there. Uhura." She'd been standing there staring at the chaos in Medical for so long that the Yeoman had already moved towards the back of the Bay, and Uhura had been loitering in the middle of the room like some kind of senseless moron. McCoy had spotted her and with an intimidating scowl on his face, was marching towards her, waving his tricorder like a bat. "Where the hell is Jim? The idiot isn't answering his comm."
Uhura hesitated, feeling frustrated and slightly slow as she tried to interpret the source for McCoy's impressive ire. "Do you need the Captain for something?" Instead of trying to answer a question she didn't know the answer to – Kirk hadn't been in the Mess Hall, so maybe he was still sleeping? – she posed one of her own. It was a deflection that usually only worked on the very young or the very stupid, and the good doctor was neither.
"The Captain was due on one of my biobeds six hours ago, stubborn little shit that he is. I swear to god, I don't understand that kid's aversion to hypos when he's happy to just stand there and let people punch him in the don't use that one you senseless moron!" It took a second for Uhura to realize that McCoy was shouting the last part of his run on sentence to someone on the other side of the room. By the time she recovered, the doctor was already moving off to the next problem, but he turned one last time and pinned Uhura down with a fierce gaze. "I don't care what you have to do, but you get Jim Kirk in here pronto, we clear Lieutenant?"
It was the first time she had ever heard McCoy address a junior officer by their rank, and not some gruff but affectionate moniker. The seriousness of his request made her snap her heels and fight the urge to salute. "Yes sir!"
Kirk and McCoy might have their own little idiosyncrasies when it came to their friendship, but if it came down between dealing with an irate Doctor McCoy, or a disgruntled Jim Kirk, she'd take the Captain any day of the week.
"Computer, locate Captain Kirk."
"No such crew member exists."
After failing to find Kirk on the bridge, Uhura had turned to the Enterprise to hunt down her wayward Captain. The sojourn in Medical had cost her the hour she had left on her rotation, and she was the last on the bridge to return to her post.
Aside from Kirk.
At her request, Commander Spock turned and fixed Uhura with one of his unreadable expressions. She could tell just by looking at him that he had sought no sleep either, but whatever had had done in the last six hours had banished the near indistinguishable signs of fatigue Uhura had only noticed out of familiarity.
The negative readout from the computer made more than a few eyebrows rise. Sulu and Chekov were back in their seats, both with damp hair and clean uniforms. Chekov, by virtue of his youth, looked as fresh and buoyant as a daisy. Uhura envied him a little, having caught sight of her reflection more than once on the way to the bridge.
"Computer," Spock addressed the Enterprise, "locate James Tiberius Kirk."
"Cadet Kirk is located in Engineering Bay C on Deck 12."
Cadet Kirk? Uhura wasn't the only one who cringed. Of course. Kirk wasn't even supposed to be aboard the Enterprise, let alone commanding her. She imagined Spock would make the amendments now the need had been highlighted.
Uhura wasn't one to willingly shirk her duties, but Commander Spock had taken the initiative to follow through on her attempts to locate the Captain, and she was happy to defer to Rank on this one. The ball passed, she took her seat and began reviewing the Log entries from the previous shift.
When further attempts to comm. the Captain failed, Spock tried another route.
"Bridge to Engineering."
"Mr Scott, do you perhaps have information regarding the whereabouts and condition of the Captain?"
They all waited for Scott's answer. Whenever Jim Kirk was involved in something, the circumstances usual promised to be entertaining, if not downright unbelievable, and Uhura would have been curious as to her missing Captain's location even if McCoy hadn't sent her in search of Kirk.
When no further elaboration was given, Spock adjusted his position at his station and tilted his chin a touch to the left. It was as close to a physical tell as he ever got, and Uhura speculated that she was one of the few who could recognize it for what it was.
"If you would be so kind as to expound on the reasons Captain Kirk is unable to respond to attempts to comm. him."
"Oh I doubt he can hear anything up there. As beautiful as this wee lady is, she can be a bit vocal sometimes."
Sulu and Chekov shared a long glance over the controls and Uhura shook her head in disgust.
Spock seemed to share her sentiments, for his next statement was practically frosty. "Am I to understand, Mr Scott, that instead of reporting for duty on the Bridge, Captain Kirk is in fact assisting your department with repairs?"
"Well, he is the Captian, innae? Suppose he just lost track of time."
"Indeed." Spocks's gaze narrowed. "Please inform the Captain that his presence is required on the Bridge at his earliest convineince."
"Wait," Several pairs of eyes all fixed on Uhura as she quickly spoke up. If she remained silent now, Kirk wouldn't even need to find an excuse to avoid his check in with Medical, and McCoy would have no one else to come after but her. "All respect, sir, but Acting CMO McCoy has requested the Captain's presence in Medial."
There was no mistaking the arch of eyebrow as a questioning one and Uhura fought the urge not to roll her eyes on response to the near human curiosity on Spock's face. This was exactly why she went out of her way to avoid becoming embroiled in the life of Jim Kirk.
Scott seemed to take her advice as more urgent than Spock's reminder of Kirk's duties, and promptly bellowed into the comm.
"Captain! Sir. Captain! Oh for the love a…Oy! Laddie! Get your skinny wee arse down here! There we go. Would ye like me to send him to the Bridge first, Commander?"
Several of the Command Crew looked positively scandalized at the idea of anyone speaking to the Captain so, Uhura included. Then she remembered that the Captain was Kirk, and sometimes insults were the best way to get his attention.
He was certainly the only Starfleet Captain in history who would sooner reply to 'Oy Laddie' than his rank.
"Unnecessary Mr Scott, thank you. If Doctor McCoy feels the Captain's presence is needed in Medical, it would be unwise to contradict such a request."
"Aye sir, Scott out."
Content in the location of their missing Captain, as well as the knowledge that he could get into relatively little trouble while under McCoy's paranoid eye, the crew settled down to complete the mammoth task ahead of them.
That was five hours ago. Shortly before handover, the doors to the Bridge slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and Doctor McCoy marched through them looking like a man well prepared for a battle.
Spock saw him first, and Uhura, finishing off the latest transmission from Starfleet, caught only the end of the Commander's first words to the doctor.
"I repaired as much of the damage to his central nervous system as I could, but he's going to need to see a microneurosurgeon once we make it back to Earth. Right now he's stable, and in no danger of further deterioration, which is the best we can really hope for right now. Captain Pike's made of strong stuff, so I have every hope for a full recovery. Hell, he'll probably outlive all of us."
Spock nodded in agreement. "I am pleased to hear that. Your academic references were not exaggerating when they claimed you to be a most able and reliable surgeon."
Uhura wondered if McCoy had any idea how much of a compliment Spock had just paid him. She also wondered if Spock was aware that in doing so, he was making an effort to rebuild the bridge he had so thoroughly burned down between them.
Probably not. Vulcan or not, they were both still male, and notoriously bull headed ones at that.
McCoy clearly didn't see the compliment for what it was, because he shook his head quickly and didn't accept the praise. "Yeah well, he'll certainly live longer than Jim will if I has any say in it. Now where is that moronic sonovabitch."
Kirk was doing a remarkably good job of eliciting colorful languages in those around him today.
"I do not believe questioning intelligence or parenthood is a respectful way of addressing your Captain, Doctor McCoy, nor is it considerate of a friend. That said, Captain Kirk is not on the Bridge, nor have any in this room seen him since last he was on duty."
While Sulu and Uhura did admirable jobs of trying not to look like they were eavesdropping on the conversation, Ensign Chekov did not even bother with a pretense. Uhura wasn't sure if that was brave or dense of him.
Probably the later, because McCoy predictably erupted, and even the feigned pretense of translating the latest transmissions in her Log did not protect Uhura from falling under the doctor's laser sharp radar.
"Didn't I tell you to make sure he reported in?"
Uhura was neither a little girl, nor was McCoy her father, but the wagging finger in his face and the dark, irate expression on the doctor's face made the experience all to familiar to those she had endured growing up. As with her own father, McCoy's attitude did nothing but spark her irritation.
"I did locate him, and the message was passed on as per your request." She flushed hotly, refusing to allow Kirk's own thick-headedness to reflect badly on her own efforts to follow orders. Kirk was a big boy. Did he need her to hold his hand while he went for his check-up?
McCoy spun on his heels and continued to rant, which seemed to be his default mode. "You passed on the message, well that's great, thank you." A sharp spin on his heels, and he was pacing back in the opposite direction. "Do you know how hard it is to actually get that kid to sit still long enough to diagnose a cold, let alone fix up the type of damage he's walking around with?"
"Forgive me, Doctor, but Captain Kirk did not seem to be injured." Spock spoke up in Uhura's defense.
"Right," McCoy's expression was black and angry. "You're forgetting that even before he got the living shit kicked out of him by Lord knows how many Romulans, he did a HALO jump through the atmosphere of a planet, fractured five ribs, three fingers and his left tibia, then before the sets Nurse Chapel performed could even cement, he was being marooned on an iceberg, mauled by a giant carnivorous monster and then used as a punch bag by a Vulcan with anger management problems!"
McCoy seemed to say all that without pausing for breath, and the silence that fell upon the Bridge once he had finished was utterly frigid.
The slight against Spock underlined just how far from granting forgiveness the doctor was, but for once the indignation Uhura often felt on Spock's behalf was overtaken by a much more immediate concern.
Kirk hadn't looked any worse for wear when he had sent them all from the Bridge the previous shift. Granted, there had been bruises on his face, but even they had not dimmed the sheer intensity in his eyes, nor the bright gleam of his smile as he had expressed his gratitude to each and every one of them for all their hard work. He had looked, for all intents and purposes, like he merely needed the same rest and refreshment that they all did.
Spock seemed to be working under the same assumptions, for he quickly turned away.
"Computer, Locate Captain Kirk."
Amendments had clearly been made, because the computer needed no further prompting.
"Captain Kirk is located in the Security and Tactical Department on Deck 4."
Neither Spock, nor McCoy waited for further information before departing from the bridge.
After only a moment of hesitation. Uhura followed.
Finding Kirk wasn't as simple as merely pinning down his location from the helpful, but quickly outdated computer. By the time they arrived in Security, Kirk had moved on, but not without leaving a cluster of fiercely determined young crewmembers in his wake.
Apparently Kirk found the knowledge that he was able to attain access to so many restricted areas of the Enterprise while not having any kind of security clearance to be troublesome. Instead of scolding those responsible, he and Chief Security Officer Marlin had spent three hours drafting up new rotations for all department members.
Given how many of them had found themselves in fistfights with Kirk over the last three years, Uhura imagined they would all jump at the chance to prove themselves better than his expectations.
When next consulted, the computer directed them to the forward observation deck, and while they did not find Kirk on their arrival, all three were slightly stunned to encounter upon Sarek as he gazed out into the blackness of space.
"Father." Uhura could see the war in Spock as they reached the elderly Vulcan's side. She waited to see if he would take the moment to spend some time in his father's presence, and ached for him when he quickly put duty before desire. "Forgive the intrusion, but you would not by chance have happened upon Captain Kirk this way?"
Sarek didn't turn from his observation of the stars. His hands clasped behind his back, he stood tall and motionless like a statue of old. "He departed fifteen minutes prior to your arrival."
"Of course he did." Uhura sighed before the doctor could get in with his own exclamation of annoyance. They seemed destined to chase Kirk across every inch of the ship.
"Perhaps you might try the Officer's Mess? He spoke of performing maintenance in the area before taking his leave. Your Captain shows remarkable compassion for one so young and has been inquiring as to the wellbeing of our people."
Spock cocked his head in surprise, but made no comment on the uncharacteristic behavior Kirk had shown. "We shall seek the Captain as you suggest."
Leaving Sarek to his solitude, they doubled back towards the turbolift and sped down to the lower decks where the Officer's Mess was located.
"Maybe he's eating?" She suggested as they exited the lift.
"Not damn likely." McCoy didn't seem convinced as they cleared the corner and found themselves in the middle of a crowded Mess Hall.
They were surprised to see just how many people seemed to be coming in and out, some in groups, and others juggling work they had brought with them.
"Well, where is he?" Faced with an angry Doctor McCoy, the Yeoman in charge of supervising the shift quickly pointed back towards the kitchens.
From there, it was only a case of following the sounds of chaos before they located their Captain.
Kirk was down to his undershirt, and even that was dripping. Standing amidst the wreckage of one of the kitchen's primary Replicators, Kirk had an expression of severe annoyance on his usually sunny face.
Several technicians and half a dozen chefs all hovered around him in a ring, and the dialogue flew thick and fast.
It wasn't angry, or even particularly stressed. Instead, everyone sounded downright amused. "So not a problem with the thermal regenerator, then Captain?"
"Hey man, I never professed to having a clue what I am doing here." Kirk held up his hands and gazed at the malfunctioning machinery with an assessing eye. "Just, you know. Wait, hang on a second."
Then before anyone could stop him, he was shoving his hand, and then his head into the whirling, shuddering machinery, oblivious to the sparks that showered down on both him and the large puddle of water surrounding him.
A loud shout of 'aha' later, and Kirk reemerged as the machine stopped its whirling and fell blissfully silent.
All congratulatory cheers were cut short by the bellow of indignation that erupted from the doctor.
"What the hell do you think you are playing at?" McCoy's screech of rage perfectly summed up the words Uhura failed to express herself.
Kirk straightened with a jolt, and banged his head against the edge of the broken tech. "Ow! Crap!" He turned as he rubbed at his head, and his expression brightened at the sight of the doctor. "Oh hey Bones! You fancy a milkshake? I think I fixed this baby now."
"No, Jim. I don't want a damned milkshake. What the hell are you playing at?" McCoy had closed the space between them and grabbed Kirk firmly by the shoulders. A good solid shake later, and the confused, slightly wounded expression on Kirk's face might have fooled Uhura into thinking him innocent had she not seen it used on everyone from her Xenolinguistics Instructor to the head of security back at the Academy.
"I must agree with the doctor here Captain, your actions are most illogical." Spock spoke up calmly. "Aside from your lack of concern for your own well-being, a captain should always been available to his crew without the need to launch a search party."
From the surprised start Kirk gave Spock, Uhura realized he hadn't even been aware of their presence, and concern quickly overtook annoyance. Kirk was a lot of things, but unaware was not one of them.
"We're got a ship full of hungry crew members, Mr Spock, not to mention ten times as many passengers who all require sustenance. We cannot afford to have one of our main replicators out of action at a time like this." The serious expression on Kirk's face quickly gave way to a more familiar grin. "Sorry about the comm. though. I'm not used to people wanting to contact me all the time. It won't happen again."
"Crew are able to access nourishment from other locations, Captain." Spock spoke calmly and gave no sign of any irritation that Uhura and McCoy could not hide. The fact that he made no mention of Kirk's apology made Uhura frown. He wasn't about to let it slide so easily, surely?
Kirk didn't look impressed by Spock's logic and quickly shook his head. "In their cabins. Yeah, no. I'm not about to force people to spend what little free time I have to order them to take sitting in solitude because we are unable to meet one of their basic requirements. That is illogical, Spock."
"And what about your basic requirements huh? You eaten Jim?" McCoy hadn't released Kirk's shoulders, and while the captain had made no attempt to remove his grip, Uhura could see the tension growing.
The kitchen staff had all wisely made themselves scarce, and with the noise outside in the Mess, it was easy to contain the unfolding drama between the four of them.
"Don't do this now, Bones." Kirk said, his voice sounding weary even if he did not look it.
"No, damnit!" McCoy growled and gave him another good shake. "How about sleep? You slept yet? You've showered, I can tell that much, but I can see how much pain you are in, even if your own body isn't able to recognize it!"
Uhura looked for the signs McCoy seemed to be able to read without effort.
They were there, but Kirk hid them well.
His blue eyes, often the most intense thing in the room, were even brighter than usual, and the skin around them was finely lined with fatigue. His shoulders, usually held straight and proud, were curved ever so slightly forward, as if he lacked the energy to stand completely upright, or worse, he was unconsciously curling in on himself to ease the pain in other areas.
It was following those clues that lead Uhura to giving Kirk the most thorough once over she had done since meeting him in a bar in Iowa. Kirk had been drunk then. He had no such excuse now for the way he swayed slightly where he stood.
The weight on his left leg was shifted to alleviate pressure on his right knee; through soaked wet from the malfunctioning replicator, the usually sleek lines of Kirk's chest were swollen and out of shape; his pupils were uneven; there was no hiding the way his left wrist hung uselessly; the bruises on his face had darkened to black, and his ability to make them look like a natural part of his persona was rapidly fading.
The result was a very young, very fragile looking human being, and once the doctor was done shaking him, Uhura might have to fight the urge to give him a hug.
Kirk still clung tenaciously to his stubbornness though, and he met McCoy's glare with one of his own. "Have you? Slept? Eaten? I bet you haven't."
"I'm not the one who looks like he's gone ten rounds with an Orion Gladiator." McCoy pushed him away with a gentleness at odds with his tone, and fished out his tricorder. "Now hold the fuck still while I figure out which part of you is going to require the most work and come with me." The medical device in his hands started to whistle and flash the second it came in range of Kirk.
Sensing he wasn't going to win this round – a smart move, seeing as Spock would probably just carry him to Medical if necessary – Kirk deflated and let McCoy work, but not without a final word. "Jeeze Bones, which is it? Hold still or come with you?"
"Shut up, Jim!"
They all started at the broken sound to McCoy's voice. Under all that anger and hot air, Uhura had never imagined the doctor could sound so utterly defeated.
Nor it seemed did Kirk. The cocky expression melted from his face. He looked young, earnest and almost guilty as he swayed on the spot. "Hey, Bones, hey. I'm sorry okay? I'll come with you. You can hypo me as much as you like and I swear I won't complain. Promise."
It was Kirk's turn to reach for McCoy's shoulders in what looked like a comforting gesture.
The tricorder beeped as it delivered its report. The data made the color leach from the doctor's face. "McCoy to Medical."
"Nurse Chapel, doctor."
"Prep bay six for surgery. I'm brining in a trauma patient for emergency laparotomy. Get me six bags of plasma, 50ccs of Vancomycin and call in M'benga." Uhura understood only a fraction of what McCoy barked at his second in command, but she knew enough to know that any kind of abdominal surgery was serious, and that was without combining any other complications Kirk might be bringing with him.
Kirk didn't seem to appreciate the urgency of the situation though. "Whoah, hang on a minute Bones! I do not need surgery!"
Kirk made every attempt to back away, hands held up in supplication and his best smile fixed like a rigid mask on his face. Even Uhura could see through it to the fractured emotions beneath.
"Your core temperate is high enough for me to classify every word out of your mouth as a product of delirium. So I'd shut the fuck up before I decide to have everything transcribed and put in your permanent file." McCoy was all business now, any sense of personal association between him and Kirk pushed aside with every beep his tricorder made. "Spock. Carry him."
It was a contest to see who looked more surprised by McCoy's request. As it was so difficult to prompt any visible emotional response from Spock, it trumped the wide-eyed boggle of bemusement on Kirk's face.
"What the hell? No way. I don't need to be carried anywhere!" Kirk flailed his arms in an attempt to put some distance between himself and McCoy, but only managed to shift the weight on his injured legs.
"You've ruptured the cartilage in your left knee. You've fractured your right knee. One of us is carrying your sorry ass to Medical, and since I kinda have my hands full already, it's Spock or the lovely Lieutenant here."
The assessment of Kirk's condition was enough to appease Spock's curiosity and and he moved forward to comply with McCoy's wishes. It wasn't as if he got embarrassed, unlike Kirk, was had gone incredibly red in the few seconds that had passed. Uhura was stronger than she looked, and Kirk was nothing but sleek muscle and bone. It would suck for both of them, but in an emergency, she knew she could probably do it.
It would be worth every moment of discomfort.
Her expression said as much. No way would Kirk live that one down.
Kirk seemed skeptical, his eyes darting forwards and back between his First Officer and his Lieutenant. Knowing Kirk, he was wracking his brain for Starfleet regulations he could cite to wriggle his way out of the situation.
"Spock, don't you dare! I'm still Captain, right? Well as your Captain I- goddamnit Bones!
Even Uhura had to wince at the force with which the hypo was stabbed into Kirk's neck. That had to have hurt.
"As understandable as your actions are, I believe he will be most upset with you once he awakens, Doctor." Spock observed, though he deftly caught Kirk as the captain keeled over right into his waiting arms.
"He also said I could hypo him as much as I liked." McCoy clearly didn't give a damn. "Now are you just going to stand there man, or can I actually expect to see my patient in surgery some time this century?"
Spock chose not to dignify the remark with a response. Instead he lifted Kirk into a more comfortable position, and followed the doctor.
Uhura had to run to keep up with the pace set: both Spock and the doctor had longer strides and adrenaline on their sides.
The busy corridors made navigating them as quickly as they needed to difficult, even with McCoy bellowing to everyone to get out of the goddamn way!
"Uhura to Bridge."
"Go ahead Lieutenant."
"Mr Chekov, I need you to clear the corridors between the Officer's Mess and Medical."
Uhura killed the connection and doubled her pace to catch up.