[fic] Chipmunk! 02/??
Title: Chipmunk!
Characters: Spock/Uhura, eventual Spock/Kirk
Genre: Epic, humor, romance, fluff, angst
Rating: This chapter, PG; Eventual, NC-17
Summary 02: Spock and kirk beam down to find the operatives, but complications arise.
Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, has nothing to do with Chipmunks.
Author's Notes: Un-beta'd because I'm too lazy to wait. (I'm always too lazy to wait. Lemme know if you spot a mistake)
Also, question for other browsers: do the smart quotes show for everyone? My Kindle sometimes doesn't show quotations and I have no idea why.
chapter list
“What killed him?”
“I don't know, Jim. I'll have to do an autopsy first.” Doctor McCoy said.
“I want that priority. Get those men on life support, and find out what killed that officer. I don't want another death on our hands.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Kirk turned, leaving the sickbay with Spock close behind.“Mister Spock?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“I am appointing you Acting Captain. I am going to go to the surface and try to locate our operatives. If my communicator fails, I want you to tell Scotty to try to beam all four of us up, even if he can't get a lock on us.”
“Captain--”
“No objections. I am not leaving my men down there to die of whatever killed that man or a dust storm. We can at least try.”
“Then, as Acting Captain, I cannot let you go alone. If there is some creature down there that killed our man, the last logical choice is to face it alone, Captain.”
Kirk smirked at Spock. “You have a point there, Mister Spock. Follow me, then.” They followed the corridors to the Transporter room.
Scotty jumped as they entered. “Captain. Right, I think I might be able to use the enterprise's phasers to redirect the vector of the dust storm, giving us up to fifteen minutes more time to locate the operatives.”
Kirk paused for a moment before he burst out laughing. “Scotty, you never cease to amaze me. Spock and I are beaming down, we'll need two automatic transmitters.”
“Already have them right here.”
“Thank you Mister Scott.” Kirk said, pinning his to the collar of his shirt. He stood on the transporter and glanced at Spock. Spock looked back, and he gave the vulcan a grin. “Wish us luck.”
“Luck is illogical-”
Before Spock could elaborate, Scotty turned on the transporter as the gold lights wrapped around them and teleported them away.
Once the light settled, Kirk opened his communicator to the bridge. “Mister-” He closed the communicator and looked at Spock. “Who did I give the conn to?”
“You didn't, Captain. You were in too much of a hurry to get to sickbay.”
The communicator whistled helpfully. Sulu's voice came through, sounding mildly amused. “Sulu here.”
“Ah, Mister Sulu, thank you.”
Spock raised an eyebrow and started up the short incline, following the foot steps.
“Yes, we have beamed down safely and are following the tracks up the hill. Mister Scott, that lab equipment has an automatic transmitter; beam it up and have someone clean it off.” Kirk hurried to catch up with Spock, the dust swirling around his steps. “There's no sign of a struggle or anything down here.”
“Captain, I believe I've found our operatives.” Spock called, pointing over the top of the hill.
Kirk stepped up behind him, following his hand. There were three vague shapes buried in the gray dust. “I believe you may be right, Mister Spock. But there's no sign of a struggle, or any other tracks here either.”
Spock nodded, examining the four sliding trails down the steeper side of the hill. Three smooth trails led to the collapsed forms missing operatives. The fourth trail led to a faint outline of where the security man had lain before being brought back to the ship. His trail was wavering, as if someone had not slid but rolled down the hill in a series of somersaults.
Kirk knelt and let himself slide down the embankment. “Mister Scott, prepare to beam up--” He coughed, dropped the communicator and immediately passed out.
Spock stared only a moment before opening his own communicator. “Mister Scott, can you tell me if there are any unknown-gas pockets in the three meters fore and beneath my location?”
“There is nothing, Mister Spock. The only thing in the air that's not air is a little bit of that dust.”
“Can you locate the other operatives from my current location?”
“Not quite, Mister Spock.”
“Do you think Mister Chekov would be able to?”
Scotty laughed at that. “Mister Chekov may have wonderful reflexes and instincts when it comes to catching a man that's hurtling out of the sky, but it's simply a matter of logistics. The computer can't see that far out.”
“Whatever is incapacitating our men is invisible to the naked eye.” Spock lifted the sleeve of his uniform to his face and began tearing at the cuff with his teeth.
“Mister Spock, what is that noise?”
“I am tearing a piece of my uniform in order to tie it around my communicator so that even if I should be incapacitated, you will be able to locate us and beam us up.”
“Oh, aye. That's a good idea, Mister Spock.”
“I believe we should add two things to mandatory supplies for a landing team: Automatic transmitters, and some string.” With a grunt and a rip, Spock managed to free the cuff of his shirt and proceeded to tie it around the transmitter button of his communicator. “Can you hear me, now?”
“Loud and clear, Mister Spock.”
“Good.” Spock began his descent carefully. The loose earth shifted underneath him and he stumbled forward, dropping his communicator and nearly landing on Kirk.
“Mister Spock! Are you alright?” Scotty's voice came through the communicator that was now ten feet away from him. “I'm giving you to the count of ten before I beam you back up.” Scotty said and began counting.
Spock leaned forward, snatching the communicator off one of the operatives lying unconscious beside him. “Spock to Enterprise.”
“Mister Spock. Are you alright?”
“Enveloped in this dust, but I am uninjured, Mister Scott. Can you beam us up? We'll need four stretchers.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The gold light surrounded them and within moments the four men were back safely on the ship.
Spock assessed his captain first for injury or illness. Then, he checked each other officer and found them healthy to a cursory examination, as if they were merely sleeping.
Doctor McCoy burst into the transporter room, panting through a full face bio-mask. “Dammit. I can't be six places at once. Sanitize and quarantine those men. Whatever made those operatives pass out on surface, it's come back with them. I've already had three nurses faint. I don't need the entire crew populating my sickbay.” Behind him, four floating stretchers followed sedately.
“Whatever it is, I seem to be immune, Doctor.”
McCoy glared, still doubled over from catching his breath. “One man does not a pattern make, Mister Spock. We must assume everyone is susceptible.”
The soft lights of the transporter sanitation flashed and shut off. “All clean, Doctor; and the halls between here and the sickbay have been cleared.”
“You're coming too, Mister Scott.” McCoy finished strapping the last man onto one of the floating stretchers.
Scotty winced but followed without complaint.
The medical bay was eery when they arrived. The normally pristine room was dusted with gray powder. Life support and monitors beeped and whirred as Spock and McCoy moved the men from stretchers to their beds. Scotty settled himself in a corner of the room away from everyone else and stayed there.
“Mister Spock, would you mind writing up charts for our patients while I go do that autopsy?” McCoy said, sounding very weary.
Spock nodded, lifting a PADD from the floor, presumably where it had been dropped when a nurse had fainted. It was quiet for a while. Spock recorded silently, concentrating on his work.
“They look like they're sleeping.”
“According to their vital signs, they are, Mister Scott.”
Spock finished, setting the PADD aside and entering the autopsy room. “If I may, Doctor.”
McCoy nodded for him to continue, concentrating on the tricorder as he searched for toxins. The necessity for the full face mask making the readings difficult to read.
“I believe he broke his neck. He fainted with this malady and collapsed forward at a velocity and angle sufficient to cause him to roll, as humans say, 'head-over-heels' down the hill. The resulting stresses caused the atlas and axis Vertebrae to snap. I would do an X-ray.”
“You know? You might be right. I thought his head moved oddly when I brought him in here.” McCoy grabbed the X-ray viewer from the adjacent shelf and scanned the neck. “You're right. Fracture of the C1 and C2 vertebrae, broke his spinal cord and killed him in an instant. How'd you know?”
“The trail to where his body had lain was different from the others. His was broken and rough in places. The other three officers and the captain all left straight, solid trails.”
“Has anyone woken up yet?”
“No. Aside from not responding to stimulus, they appear to be merely sleeping. If we could discover the cause of this, a way to cause instant unconsciousness from a distance without long term injury could be very beneficial.” Spock said, leading the way back to the main room.
“It would, but first we need to find out what it is and if it's reversible.” McCoy turned to Scotty. “You aren't feeling any of the affects of whatever's causing this?”
Scott hopped down from the bed he'd been sitting on. “No, I'm fine. Can I go? I'd feel much better if I were taking care of the ship.”
“Sit down and quit your belly aching. You'll be back before you- oof.” McCoy slipped in the dirt and landed heavily. The dust fluttering around him. “Dammit. Can we please get this dust cleaned up? And don't you dare laugh.”
Grinning madly, Scotty leaned forward to help him up and collapsed.
“Shit.” McCoy cursed, hauling Scotty onto the bed with Spock's help. “What's causing this?”
“I believe it may be the dust. The ship's sanitizers only kill microscopic bacterium, viruses, and parasites. It is not programmed to remove dirt samples.”
“That would explain why they didn't collapse until they had been on the planet a while. The dust had to be stirred up by their feet to be breathed in.” McCoy said, excited.
“Computer, run a full sanitation of Sickbay One. Remove all uncatalogued particles,” Spock said.
“I hate this thing, a miniature dust storm just doesn't seem like a good way to clean a room, and what counts as a cataloged particle? Don't answer that.” McCoy interrupted when Spock opened his mouth. “Don't you want a mask to keep the dust out of your eyes?” McCoy asked, over the rush of the filtered air replacing contaminated.
“No, Doctor. Vulcans, unlike humans, have a nictitating membrane that covers our eyes and protects us from the dust storms that were very common on Vulcan.”
McCoy winced. “I don't understand how you can mention your home planet in the past tense and not feel any emotion.”
Spock didn't answer. The whir finally stopped and the sickbay was back to it's usual pristine white glow.
“Now we just flush their lungs to remove what the sanitation missed, and people should start waking up. The scanners don't show any reason they shouldn't.”
“The scanners also don't show any reason for them to be asleep in the first place, Doctor.”
“If they weren't going to wake up, the neural scanners would show coma like symptoms or a deterioration by now. Some of these men have been unconscious nearly half an hour without any change.”
It took only ten minutes to clear their lungs in turn; but an hour later, they still weren't waking up.
Characters: Spock/Uhura, eventual Spock/Kirk
Genre: Epic, humor, romance, fluff, angst
Rating: This chapter, PG; Eventual, NC-17
Summary 02: Spock and kirk beam down to find the operatives, but complications arise.
Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, has nothing to do with Chipmunks.
Author's Notes: Un-beta'd because I'm too lazy to wait. (I'm always too lazy to wait. Lemme know if you spot a mistake)
Also, question for other browsers: do the smart quotes show for everyone? My Kindle sometimes doesn't show quotations and I have no idea why.
chapter list
“What killed him?”
“I don't know, Jim. I'll have to do an autopsy first.” Doctor McCoy said.
“I want that priority. Get those men on life support, and find out what killed that officer. I don't want another death on our hands.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Kirk turned, leaving the sickbay with Spock close behind.“Mister Spock?”
“Yes, Captain?”
“I am appointing you Acting Captain. I am going to go to the surface and try to locate our operatives. If my communicator fails, I want you to tell Scotty to try to beam all four of us up, even if he can't get a lock on us.”
“Captain--”
“No objections. I am not leaving my men down there to die of whatever killed that man or a dust storm. We can at least try.”
“Then, as Acting Captain, I cannot let you go alone. If there is some creature down there that killed our man, the last logical choice is to face it alone, Captain.”
Kirk smirked at Spock. “You have a point there, Mister Spock. Follow me, then.” They followed the corridors to the Transporter room.
Scotty jumped as they entered. “Captain. Right, I think I might be able to use the enterprise's phasers to redirect the vector of the dust storm, giving us up to fifteen minutes more time to locate the operatives.”
Kirk paused for a moment before he burst out laughing. “Scotty, you never cease to amaze me. Spock and I are beaming down, we'll need two automatic transmitters.”
“Already have them right here.”
“Thank you Mister Scott.” Kirk said, pinning his to the collar of his shirt. He stood on the transporter and glanced at Spock. Spock looked back, and he gave the vulcan a grin. “Wish us luck.”
“Luck is illogical-”
Before Spock could elaborate, Scotty turned on the transporter as the gold lights wrapped around them and teleported them away.
Once the light settled, Kirk opened his communicator to the bridge. “Mister-” He closed the communicator and looked at Spock. “Who did I give the conn to?”
“You didn't, Captain. You were in too much of a hurry to get to sickbay.”
The communicator whistled helpfully. Sulu's voice came through, sounding mildly amused. “Sulu here.”
“Ah, Mister Sulu, thank you.”
Spock raised an eyebrow and started up the short incline, following the foot steps.
“Yes, we have beamed down safely and are following the tracks up the hill. Mister Scott, that lab equipment has an automatic transmitter; beam it up and have someone clean it off.” Kirk hurried to catch up with Spock, the dust swirling around his steps. “There's no sign of a struggle or anything down here.”
“Captain, I believe I've found our operatives.” Spock called, pointing over the top of the hill.
Kirk stepped up behind him, following his hand. There were three vague shapes buried in the gray dust. “I believe you may be right, Mister Spock. But there's no sign of a struggle, or any other tracks here either.”
Spock nodded, examining the four sliding trails down the steeper side of the hill. Three smooth trails led to the collapsed forms missing operatives. The fourth trail led to a faint outline of where the security man had lain before being brought back to the ship. His trail was wavering, as if someone had not slid but rolled down the hill in a series of somersaults.
Kirk knelt and let himself slide down the embankment. “Mister Scott, prepare to beam up--” He coughed, dropped the communicator and immediately passed out.
Spock stared only a moment before opening his own communicator. “Mister Scott, can you tell me if there are any unknown-gas pockets in the three meters fore and beneath my location?”
“There is nothing, Mister Spock. The only thing in the air that's not air is a little bit of that dust.”
“Can you locate the other operatives from my current location?”
“Not quite, Mister Spock.”
“Do you think Mister Chekov would be able to?”
Scotty laughed at that. “Mister Chekov may have wonderful reflexes and instincts when it comes to catching a man that's hurtling out of the sky, but it's simply a matter of logistics. The computer can't see that far out.”
“Whatever is incapacitating our men is invisible to the naked eye.” Spock lifted the sleeve of his uniform to his face and began tearing at the cuff with his teeth.
“Mister Spock, what is that noise?”
“I am tearing a piece of my uniform in order to tie it around my communicator so that even if I should be incapacitated, you will be able to locate us and beam us up.”
“Oh, aye. That's a good idea, Mister Spock.”
“I believe we should add two things to mandatory supplies for a landing team: Automatic transmitters, and some string.” With a grunt and a rip, Spock managed to free the cuff of his shirt and proceeded to tie it around the transmitter button of his communicator. “Can you hear me, now?”
“Loud and clear, Mister Spock.”
“Good.” Spock began his descent carefully. The loose earth shifted underneath him and he stumbled forward, dropping his communicator and nearly landing on Kirk.
“Mister Spock! Are you alright?” Scotty's voice came through the communicator that was now ten feet away from him. “I'm giving you to the count of ten before I beam you back up.” Scotty said and began counting.
Spock leaned forward, snatching the communicator off one of the operatives lying unconscious beside him. “Spock to Enterprise.”
“Mister Spock. Are you alright?”
“Enveloped in this dust, but I am uninjured, Mister Scott. Can you beam us up? We'll need four stretchers.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The gold light surrounded them and within moments the four men were back safely on the ship.
Spock assessed his captain first for injury or illness. Then, he checked each other officer and found them healthy to a cursory examination, as if they were merely sleeping.
Doctor McCoy burst into the transporter room, panting through a full face bio-mask. “Dammit. I can't be six places at once. Sanitize and quarantine those men. Whatever made those operatives pass out on surface, it's come back with them. I've already had three nurses faint. I don't need the entire crew populating my sickbay.” Behind him, four floating stretchers followed sedately.
“Whatever it is, I seem to be immune, Doctor.”
McCoy glared, still doubled over from catching his breath. “One man does not a pattern make, Mister Spock. We must assume everyone is susceptible.”
The soft lights of the transporter sanitation flashed and shut off. “All clean, Doctor; and the halls between here and the sickbay have been cleared.”
“You're coming too, Mister Scott.” McCoy finished strapping the last man onto one of the floating stretchers.
Scotty winced but followed without complaint.
The medical bay was eery when they arrived. The normally pristine room was dusted with gray powder. Life support and monitors beeped and whirred as Spock and McCoy moved the men from stretchers to their beds. Scotty settled himself in a corner of the room away from everyone else and stayed there.
“Mister Spock, would you mind writing up charts for our patients while I go do that autopsy?” McCoy said, sounding very weary.
Spock nodded, lifting a PADD from the floor, presumably where it had been dropped when a nurse had fainted. It was quiet for a while. Spock recorded silently, concentrating on his work.
“They look like they're sleeping.”
“According to their vital signs, they are, Mister Scott.”
Spock finished, setting the PADD aside and entering the autopsy room. “If I may, Doctor.”
McCoy nodded for him to continue, concentrating on the tricorder as he searched for toxins. The necessity for the full face mask making the readings difficult to read.
“I believe he broke his neck. He fainted with this malady and collapsed forward at a velocity and angle sufficient to cause him to roll, as humans say, 'head-over-heels' down the hill. The resulting stresses caused the atlas and axis Vertebrae to snap. I would do an X-ray.”
“You know? You might be right. I thought his head moved oddly when I brought him in here.” McCoy grabbed the X-ray viewer from the adjacent shelf and scanned the neck. “You're right. Fracture of the C1 and C2 vertebrae, broke his spinal cord and killed him in an instant. How'd you know?”
“The trail to where his body had lain was different from the others. His was broken and rough in places. The other three officers and the captain all left straight, solid trails.”
“Has anyone woken up yet?”
“No. Aside from not responding to stimulus, they appear to be merely sleeping. If we could discover the cause of this, a way to cause instant unconsciousness from a distance without long term injury could be very beneficial.” Spock said, leading the way back to the main room.
“It would, but first we need to find out what it is and if it's reversible.” McCoy turned to Scotty. “You aren't feeling any of the affects of whatever's causing this?”
Scott hopped down from the bed he'd been sitting on. “No, I'm fine. Can I go? I'd feel much better if I were taking care of the ship.”
“Sit down and quit your belly aching. You'll be back before you- oof.” McCoy slipped in the dirt and landed heavily. The dust fluttering around him. “Dammit. Can we please get this dust cleaned up? And don't you dare laugh.”
Grinning madly, Scotty leaned forward to help him up and collapsed.
“Shit.” McCoy cursed, hauling Scotty onto the bed with Spock's help. “What's causing this?”
“I believe it may be the dust. The ship's sanitizers only kill microscopic bacterium, viruses, and parasites. It is not programmed to remove dirt samples.”
“That would explain why they didn't collapse until they had been on the planet a while. The dust had to be stirred up by their feet to be breathed in.” McCoy said, excited.
“Computer, run a full sanitation of Sickbay One. Remove all uncatalogued particles,” Spock said.
“I hate this thing, a miniature dust storm just doesn't seem like a good way to clean a room, and what counts as a cataloged particle? Don't answer that.” McCoy interrupted when Spock opened his mouth. “Don't you want a mask to keep the dust out of your eyes?” McCoy asked, over the rush of the filtered air replacing contaminated.
“No, Doctor. Vulcans, unlike humans, have a nictitating membrane that covers our eyes and protects us from the dust storms that were very common on Vulcan.”
McCoy winced. “I don't understand how you can mention your home planet in the past tense and not feel any emotion.”
Spock didn't answer. The whir finally stopped and the sickbay was back to it's usual pristine white glow.
“Now we just flush their lungs to remove what the sanitation missed, and people should start waking up. The scanners don't show any reason they shouldn't.”
“The scanners also don't show any reason for them to be asleep in the first place, Doctor.”
“If they weren't going to wake up, the neural scanners would show coma like symptoms or a deterioration by now. Some of these men have been unconscious nearly half an hour without any change.”
It took only ten minutes to clear their lungs in turn; but an hour later, they still weren't waking up.