Princess_Mir
princess_mir We opened our front door and found this lovely trinket sitting on the doorstep just for you my dear.
Title: Budding & Burning
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
“Code Green, coming through!” The security ensigns carrying the stretchers barreled through the door almost before it opened fully. Bones and Chapel each instinctively took one step towards the first gurney - then the nurse met the doctor’s eyes, and without breaking stride, she shifted to the second one, hypospray already in hand.
“What happened down there?” McCoy demanded. The report he’d gotten over the ship’s comm system had been brief and not terribly coherent.
A third away team member - science, from his uniform patch - stumbled into the medbay under his own power. “The plants down there,” he started, one hand pressed tight to his shoulder, “they run on geothermal energy, not solar. Carleton took a leaf sample from one of them, and suddenly there was superheated steam everywhere. Mr. Spock -” The ensign swallowed as McCoy bent over the First Officer. “He must have heard it - he got between me and the tree before it could blind me.” He started shaking. “He wasn’t fast enough to save Carleton, but he got him away before they both went down.”
“He’s still breathing, but he must have gotten a lungful of the steam,” Chapel reported, leaning over Carleton’s bed. “We’ll have to give him alveolar regenerants, and quickly.”
“”Then get to it,” McCoy snapped. Spock’s skin was a mass of blisters, green and swollen. “No third-degree burns, it looks like, thank God. But I’ve seen him take worse and still critique my bedside manner. Why is he out?” He glared at the nameless science ensign.
“I think -” The ensign clutched at his shoulder and grimaced again. “I can’t feel - I think the sap might be poisonous as well as superheated.”
“You think it might be poisonous? Did you get a sample?” McCoy reached for a spray dressing for the burns.
“Only what’s on my clothes, and theirs.”
Chapel slid a pair of scissors from a wall drawer, handed them to him, and turned back to her patient. “You’ll need to clean the burn area anyway. I suggest you get started, Ensign.”
---
“The scald wasn’t the problem,” McCoy explained with an edge of impatience. “You’ve seen how fast his hybrid biology works on plain tissue damage.” He pointed at patches of sloughing skin. “The burns themselves are almost healed, except for the one spot where he took the steam jet full force, and even that’s making progress.”
“So why isn’t he waking up?” Jim leaned over the sickbay bed at Spock’s still form. Not a single muscle moved. “He’s like - a statue.”
“Ensign Galli was right about the sap being venomous,” McCoy explained. “It’s a mild neurotoxin. To the native lifeforms of Gamma Encedalus IV, this compound acts as an irritant - kind of like poison ivy on Earth. On purely human anatomy, it has the opposite effect - it’s a numbing agent. That’s why Galli wasn’t screaming from the pain of his burns; he could barely feel them, and by the time he could - and he could move his arm again - we had him under sedation.” McCoy’s fingers brushed the first officer’s skin where several sensors rested on it. “But the toxin is cuprophilic - it binds to copper in other molecules.”
“So it’s staying in his system?” Kirk asked. The groove in his forehead deepened.
“Right in his bloodstream,” Bones agreed. “So it’s keeping his entire nervous system in a mildly depressed state. Not so much that it’s interfering with breathing or heartrate, but enough to keep him effectively comatose.” He pointed at the gizmo beside the bed. “We’ve tried sonic filtration, but the molecular bond is too strong to break that way.”
Jim’s hands clenched once on the side of the bed, then let go. “What other techniques could you try?”
“We used direct chemical filtration to get it out of Carleton’s system,” Bones said slowly, “but it bonds much less tightly to iron compounds - the vapor application we used wouldn’t stay in contact with enough of it for long enough to draw it out from copper-based blood in significant amounts.”
Jim’s hand landed gently in the center of Bones’s back, strong and supportive. “I have complete faith in you that you’ll figure something out,” he murmured, his voice much lower than before. Then, in the captain’s voice again, he announced, “I expect to see Spock up and playing Tri-D chess again in no time.”
The door squeaked as he left, and Bones was alone with his deathly still patient. He stared at those motionless features, as calm and composed as a monk in meditation. “Dammit, you green-blooded bastard,” the doctor growled, “don’t you go anywhere on me.” He glanced at the empty beds where the two ensigns Spock had saved from much worse injuries, or worse, had recently lain. One hand fell to the patient’s wrist, gripping it lightly. “You just had to play the hero, didn’t you.”
As if the touch had activated some hint of a mind meld, Bones heard an echo of Spock’s voice directly between his own ears: It was the only logical thing to do. The heat of the steam would have killed them; I am far more resilient to sudden changes in temperature.
McCoy withdrew his hand, wondering if that had been real or only an overactive imagination. “I should eat something,” he muttered, shaking his head once. “And get a cup of coffee.” Something about that stirred another memory, a homier one, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He gave Spock one more glance - no change, all systems low but stable - and headed towards the galley.
---
Kirk’s voice filtered through the intercom, “So this is a variation on the chemical filtration you used on the two ensigns?”
“Yup,” McCoy agreed, un-molding the thickened gel from its shallow pan. “It was the chess comment that reminded me, actually.”
“Chess reminded you of gelatin?” The captain sounded mildly amused.
“Did I mention I’d skipped two meals when we had that conversation?” McCoy dialed the laser slicer to its second thinnest setting and began carefully peeling long, thin strips away from the block. “Chess pie is a Southern specialty - it’s an egg custard pie with grains of cornmeal suspended in it, flavored with lemon, or sometimes apple cider vinegar.” He eased one of the strips onto a flexible applicator that looked entirely too similar to a frosting spatula. “I realized that if we took the filtration compound and fixed it as a gel rather than a vapor, then suspended individual droplets of a mild acid in it, we could get it to stay in contact with the affected tissue for long enough to take effect. And if we’re lucky, the acid will disrupt the chemical bond enough for the gel to absorb the venom from his system.” He carefully laid the gel over the raw patches on the Vulcan’s throat, working his way down his chest.
“How long do you think it’ll take to work?” Jim asked, peering through the window into the clean room.
“Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a chemist,” Bones snapped. “If we’re lucky, the initial application will remove most of the venom, but the threshold level for consciousness is anyone’s guess.” He settled the last strip on the inside of the patient’s arm, and began slicing a second set. “I did my level best to titrate the acidity level, but -”
“You could have lowered the pH value by another 0.5 and increased the speed of the reaction without offering any increase in risk to the patient,” a deep voice commented below his hands, “but I understand why, in this case, you chose a more conservative approach.” Spock’s eyes opened, slowly and without blinking. “The technique appears to be effective at the current levels.”
“Spock,” Bones said, his voice dripping with relief. He wasn’t what else he could say that wouldn’t be embarrassing in front of Jim, and fell silent.
“Good to see you back with us, Mr. Spock,” Kirk chirped, his own voice casual but his grin big enough to see through the tiny window. “Been a long three days on the bridge without your cheerful presence.”
“I shall endeavor to brighten the atmosphere as soon as I am able,” Spock replied drily.
“No rushing,” Bones growled. “It’ll take at least one more application of this stuff to have your system completely clear.”
“Then I’ll leave you two to it,” Kirk said, still grinning as he stepped away.
Spock’s long, strong hand fell onto Bones’s. “This treatment is - innovative,” he said, hesitating just slightly. “I appreciate how difficult the formulation must have been.”
“You could just say thanks,” Bones growled, but it was difficult to stay mad.
“Then - thank you.” Spock briefly closed his hand on McCoy’s, and something else flickered at the edge of memory, before the Vulcan leaned back and closed his eyes again.
Bones blinked, then began removing the saturated gel. His fingers skated over warm, slick skin, beginning to stir. “Any time, Mr. Spock. Any time.”
Title: Budding & Burning
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
“Code Green, coming through!” The security ensigns carrying the stretchers barreled through the door almost before it opened fully. Bones and Chapel each instinctively took one step towards the first gurney - then the nurse met the doctor’s eyes, and without breaking stride, she shifted to the second one, hypospray already in hand.
“What happened down there?” McCoy demanded. The report he’d gotten over the ship’s comm system had been brief and not terribly coherent.
A third away team member - science, from his uniform patch - stumbled into the medbay under his own power. “The plants down there,” he started, one hand pressed tight to his shoulder, “they run on geothermal energy, not solar. Carleton took a leaf sample from one of them, and suddenly there was superheated steam everywhere. Mr. Spock -” The ensign swallowed as McCoy bent over the First Officer. “He must have heard it - he got between me and the tree before it could blind me.” He started shaking. “He wasn’t fast enough to save Carleton, but he got him away before they both went down.”
“He’s still breathing, but he must have gotten a lungful of the steam,” Chapel reported, leaning over Carleton’s bed. “We’ll have to give him alveolar regenerants, and quickly.”
“”Then get to it,” McCoy snapped. Spock’s skin was a mass of blisters, green and swollen. “No third-degree burns, it looks like, thank God. But I’ve seen him take worse and still critique my bedside manner. Why is he out?” He glared at the nameless science ensign.
“I think -” The ensign clutched at his shoulder and grimaced again. “I can’t feel - I think the sap might be poisonous as well as superheated.”
“You think it might be poisonous? Did you get a sample?” McCoy reached for a spray dressing for the burns.
“Only what’s on my clothes, and theirs.”
Chapel slid a pair of scissors from a wall drawer, handed them to him, and turned back to her patient. “You’ll need to clean the burn area anyway. I suggest you get started, Ensign.”
---
“The scald wasn’t the problem,” McCoy explained with an edge of impatience. “You’ve seen how fast his hybrid biology works on plain tissue damage.” He pointed at patches of sloughing skin. “The burns themselves are almost healed, except for the one spot where he took the steam jet full force, and even that’s making progress.”
“So why isn’t he waking up?” Jim leaned over the sickbay bed at Spock’s still form. Not a single muscle moved. “He’s like - a statue.”
“Ensign Galli was right about the sap being venomous,” McCoy explained. “It’s a mild neurotoxin. To the native lifeforms of Gamma Encedalus IV, this compound acts as an irritant - kind of like poison ivy on Earth. On purely human anatomy, it has the opposite effect - it’s a numbing agent. That’s why Galli wasn’t screaming from the pain of his burns; he could barely feel them, and by the time he could - and he could move his arm again - we had him under sedation.” McCoy’s fingers brushed the first officer’s skin where several sensors rested on it. “But the toxin is cuprophilic - it binds to copper in other molecules.”
“So it’s staying in his system?” Kirk asked. The groove in his forehead deepened.
“Right in his bloodstream,” Bones agreed. “So it’s keeping his entire nervous system in a mildly depressed state. Not so much that it’s interfering with breathing or heartrate, but enough to keep him effectively comatose.” He pointed at the gizmo beside the bed. “We’ve tried sonic filtration, but the molecular bond is too strong to break that way.”
Jim’s hands clenched once on the side of the bed, then let go. “What other techniques could you try?”
“We used direct chemical filtration to get it out of Carleton’s system,” Bones said slowly, “but it bonds much less tightly to iron compounds - the vapor application we used wouldn’t stay in contact with enough of it for long enough to draw it out from copper-based blood in significant amounts.”
Jim’s hand landed gently in the center of Bones’s back, strong and supportive. “I have complete faith in you that you’ll figure something out,” he murmured, his voice much lower than before. Then, in the captain’s voice again, he announced, “I expect to see Spock up and playing Tri-D chess again in no time.”
The door squeaked as he left, and Bones was alone with his deathly still patient. He stared at those motionless features, as calm and composed as a monk in meditation. “Dammit, you green-blooded bastard,” the doctor growled, “don’t you go anywhere on me.” He glanced at the empty beds where the two ensigns Spock had saved from much worse injuries, or worse, had recently lain. One hand fell to the patient’s wrist, gripping it lightly. “You just had to play the hero, didn’t you.”
As if the touch had activated some hint of a mind meld, Bones heard an echo of Spock’s voice directly between his own ears: It was the only logical thing to do. The heat of the steam would have killed them; I am far more resilient to sudden changes in temperature.
McCoy withdrew his hand, wondering if that had been real or only an overactive imagination. “I should eat something,” he muttered, shaking his head once. “And get a cup of coffee.” Something about that stirred another memory, a homier one, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He gave Spock one more glance - no change, all systems low but stable - and headed towards the galley.
---
Kirk’s voice filtered through the intercom, “So this is a variation on the chemical filtration you used on the two ensigns?”
“Yup,” McCoy agreed, un-molding the thickened gel from its shallow pan. “It was the chess comment that reminded me, actually.”
“Chess reminded you of gelatin?” The captain sounded mildly amused.
“Did I mention I’d skipped two meals when we had that conversation?” McCoy dialed the laser slicer to its second thinnest setting and began carefully peeling long, thin strips away from the block. “Chess pie is a Southern specialty - it’s an egg custard pie with grains of cornmeal suspended in it, flavored with lemon, or sometimes apple cider vinegar.” He eased one of the strips onto a flexible applicator that looked entirely too similar to a frosting spatula. “I realized that if we took the filtration compound and fixed it as a gel rather than a vapor, then suspended individual droplets of a mild acid in it, we could get it to stay in contact with the affected tissue for long enough to take effect. And if we’re lucky, the acid will disrupt the chemical bond enough for the gel to absorb the venom from his system.” He carefully laid the gel over the raw patches on the Vulcan’s throat, working his way down his chest.
“How long do you think it’ll take to work?” Jim asked, peering through the window into the clean room.
“Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a chemist,” Bones snapped. “If we’re lucky, the initial application will remove most of the venom, but the threshold level for consciousness is anyone’s guess.” He settled the last strip on the inside of the patient’s arm, and began slicing a second set. “I did my level best to titrate the acidity level, but -”
“You could have lowered the pH value by another 0.5 and increased the speed of the reaction without offering any increase in risk to the patient,” a deep voice commented below his hands, “but I understand why, in this case, you chose a more conservative approach.” Spock’s eyes opened, slowly and without blinking. “The technique appears to be effective at the current levels.”
“Spock,” Bones said, his voice dripping with relief. He wasn’t what else he could say that wouldn’t be embarrassing in front of Jim, and fell silent.
“Good to see you back with us, Mr. Spock,” Kirk chirped, his own voice casual but his grin big enough to see through the tiny window. “Been a long three days on the bridge without your cheerful presence.”
“I shall endeavor to brighten the atmosphere as soon as I am able,” Spock replied drily.
“No rushing,” Bones growled. “It’ll take at least one more application of this stuff to have your system completely clear.”
“Then I’ll leave you two to it,” Kirk said, still grinning as he stepped away.
Spock’s long, strong hand fell onto Bones’s. “This treatment is - innovative,” he said, hesitating just slightly. “I appreciate how difficult the formulation must have been.”
“You could just say thanks,” Bones growled, but it was difficult to stay mad.
“Then - thank you.” Spock briefly closed his hand on McCoy’s, and something else flickered at the edge of memory, before the Vulcan leaned back and closed his eyes again.
Bones blinked, then began removing the saturated gel. His fingers skated over warm, slick skin, beginning to stir. “Any time, Mr. Spock. Any time.”