0Title: Bordering Warm (1/2)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: It’s hot enough to be summertime on Earth, except they’re on a starship in the coldness of space. Somebody has tampered with Environmental, and oddly the captain of the ship is not upset about it at all.
A/N: There is no good excuse for this silliness. I just wanted some Enterprise shenanigans. Oh, and inept wooing.
A short beep signals an incoming call: “Sickbay to Bridge.”
A man in command-gold cuts himself off mid-sentence, falling out of his relaxed stance against the deck railing to reach the captain’s chair. There he answers, unrushed, “Kirk here. Bones. First time I’ve heard from you all day.”
“Some of us don’t have time for chatting.”
Kirk looks startled but recovers quickly enough after clearing his throat. “What can I do for you, Doctor?”
“You can come down to Sickbay, Captain. I need your… input… on somethin’ from my medical log.”
The deliberate pause and the mention of a medical log ensures the ship’s senior medical officer gains the sharper side of Kirk’s attention.
“On my way,” the captain responds. Ending the communication with a deft punch of a finger, he jogs up the steps connecting the upper and lower levels of the bridge. The officer with whom the captain was previously engaged in discussion (that is, chatting with, as described by the all-knowing Dr. McCoy) tracks Kirk’s progress toward the turbolift with a level stare.
Kirk flicks a glance the officer’s way. “Mr. Spock, you have the conn.”
The Vulcan rises from his station as Kirk strides into the lift. Only when the door is closed, removing Kirk from view, does Spock take the empty chair at the center of the bridge.
Jim Kirk settles a hip against an abnormally uncluttered desk, staring at his companion as if by sight alone he can decipher the mystery behind the man’s expression. “You called, and I came,” he reminds McCoy at length. “So, are you going to continue stabbing that PADD to death, or can we discuss what’s on your mind?”
“Just a minute,” growls his CMO. “Screen’s stuck.”
Jim nearly rolls his eyes. “The screen can’t be stuck. We were refitted with top-of-the-line everything—machines, computers, equipment—you name it. I made certain of it.”
McCoy pins his visitor with his best stink-eye. “Well I’ve been trying to make this damn thing scroll down for the last fifteen minutes. I’m telling you, it’s stuck.”
“Give it here,” demands Kirk, already in the process of taking the device away. A moment later, he says in an aggrieved tone, “But how…? You broke it.”
The doctor snatches back the PADD. “I did no such thing!”
Jim stares at him in consternation. “That PADD was brand-new. Bones, how could you have possibly broken it already?” McCoy aims a swat at his head. The captain yelps, sliding sideways off the desk, narrowly avoiding impact with the doctor’s weapon. “Don’t hit me with that!”
“Why not?” the other man challenges. “It’s already defective.”
Jim eyes McCoy from a safer distance, eventually sighing through his nose. “This cannot be why you asked me to come to Sickbay.” When McCoy doesn’t answer right away, he folds his arms across his chest.
The CMO stares at the captain for a moment longer, then returns to facing his computer, discarding the inoperative data padd all together. “Of course I have a better reason.” Kirk doesn’t appear convinced, up until McCoy points at the computer screen. “Take a look at this.”
Relaxing, Kirk grabs a chair and positions it next to McCoy. Then he leans around the man’s shoulder to view the screen. “What am I looking at?”
“Don’t be lazy, Jim. Read the entry.”
With a huff, Kirk reads the entry. Once finished, he leans back in his chair. “Are you sure?”
McCoy turns to look at him. “Positive.”
Jim doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, “How can I help?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” his physician—and longtime friend—remarks. “What can we do?”
A twinkle comes into the captain’s eyes. “I might have an idea.”
“Well, it’s not like I called you down here for your good looks.”
Kirk laughs at that, and once his laughter dies down, he explains his plan.
“I must have heard you wrong,” the Enterprise’s engineering chief begins. “Did you say you want me to break the ship?”
Kirk straightens his shoulders and in his calmest voice outlines his request a second time. By the end of it, Montgomery Scott is actively gaping at him.
“It won’t be permanent,” interjects the man at Kirk’s side hurriedly. “And some common areas will need to remain unaffected, like the medical bay. Also, here is a list of personnel sensitive to any type of atmospheric change. Their cabins should be excluded from the—”
“Bones.” Kirk lowers the stack of padds filled with instructions which McCoy is stubbornly holding out to the open-mouthed engineer. Then he makes the assurance, “We’ve thought this through.”
Finally, that remark seems to rally Scott, enough for him to close his mouth and scrub a hand indecisively across his head. “Still, I dinnae know…”
“I’ll take full responsibility,” Kirk states firmly.
The doctor nudges the captain’s side with his elbow. “We both will.”
Jim blows out a gust of air, but knows better than to gainsay that declaration. After a short silence and exchanging a look with McCoy, he presses his Chief Engineer for an answer. “Well…? Can you do it, Scotty?”
The man’s look of apprehension melts away almost immediately, replaced by a childish kind of delight. “Can I do it? Capt’n.” He lets out a gleeful little laugh. “I thought ye’d never ask! I have just the trick to help ye lads out.”
“Oh lord,” says McCoy.
Grinning, Kirk claps a hand on each man’s shoulder. “That’s good news, gentlemen. Let us proceed with Operation Warm-A-Vulcan!”
Scott’s still chuckling to himself as McCoy rolls his eyes and leans around Kirk to insist, “Don’t tell a soul he said that. Ever.”
“What?” Jim questions too innocently.
“My lips are sealed,” promises their newest recruit. Then Scott rubs his hands together. “So, when can I start?”
Kirk’s grin widens. “As soon as you can reasonably sneak into the control room.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” claims Scott, “not when it’s Montgomery Scott is on the job!”
“Engineer’s log, delta shift, inside Environmental Controls. Mission? Top secret.” The whispered narrative comes from a figure moving past a darkened corner of an empty room. “Not a soul in sight. Thank ye gods. I don’t fancy a trip to the brig on account of getting caught by my own shipmates.”
When the figure reaches his destination, he removes a large wrench from his gray coveralls. A moment later, something in the room fizzles and pops. The shadow man eyes his target warily before giving the side of the floor-to-ceiling mainframe another resounding whack of his wrench.
“Warning. Reset imminent. Action not recommended,” cautions the ship’s computer.
Mr. Scott rolls his eyes. “Oh, just restart yourself already, ye bloody computer!”
“Warning,” the computer repeats, insistent.
The man gives the machine two more determined thump-thumps—and, ship-wide, temperatures begin to rise.
“Captain on the bridge,” announces a yeoman to her fellow crewmen as the ship’s commanding officer is revealed to be the occupant of the newly arrived lift.
Kirk strolls onto the deck, garnering few raised eyebrows and even more stares. He plucks at his sleeveless gold tunic almost impishly, saying, “I always wanted a reason to try this out.”
From her station, Communications Officer Nyota Uhura pauses the fanning of her face with her hand just long enough to observe, “You would be the only one, Captain.”
Not offended at all, Jim gives her a bright grin and skips down the steps to his chair. He opens a channel to Engineering, making a point to question loudly, “Scotty! You figured out the problem in Environmental yet? Are repairs underway?”
Scott sounds much too amused as he replies, “Doin’ my best, sir. Strange, but we’ve never experienced a malfunction in the circuits quite like this before. I’m afraid I dinnae have much to tell you yet.”
Uhura halts her fanning again. When Kirk catches her staring intently at his face, he rearranges his expression from tickled to somber. “Understood, Mr. Scott. Keep me updated.”
Cutting the call, Jim clears his throat, letting his gaze travel around the bridge. Some of the officers, like him, are sporting lightweight versions of their normal uniforms. Many of them do not seem to be enjoying the change in temperature. While they are grumpy, others simply appear dazed.
Jim’s gaze finds its intended target. As if sensing the captain’s interest, Spock pivots his chair around and meets the stare.
Slowly, Kirk looks over his first officer’s uniform, noting it is identical to the one Spock had worn yesterday—undershirt and all. He smiles. “Doing well, Mr. Spock?”
Unblinking, Spock replies, “Affirmative.”
Just what I wanted to hear, thinks Kirk, who then takes a seat. “Report,” he says to his pair of helmsmen, and thus alpha shift is truly underway.
Two hours later, Kirk snorts awake. When he rubs his knuckles against his face, he realizes he is flushed and sweating a little bit at the temples.
He also isn’t the only one who succumbed to the heat by dozing off. Loud snores emanate from Weapons, while the on-duty navigator is slumped over his station, cradling his head in his hands. At the far-right station, Sulu sits painfully straight-backed, nearly vibrating with the intensity of his stare at the main viewscreen. Jim leans forward to see the man’s face. Despite appearances, Sulu’s eyes are glazed. Uhura, he discovers, is absent, having at some point abandoned her station for an undisclosed reason.
At last, Kirk twists around to pinpoint the only normal sounds on the bridge. The sounds come from Science, in particular, Spock who appears to be working with single-minded focus; his long fingers fly over his console, skimming schematics, fitting together equations, logging data points. Unlike the others on the bridge, this officer’s productivity has increased exponentially.
Jim wipes at a bead of sweat trailing along his hairline as he admires his handiwork. He shakes his head when the image of Spock grows briefly fuzzy.
Sometime later, the turbolift at the back of the bridge dings. Kirk blinks, for a moment seeing two McCoys walk out of the lift before they converge into one frowning man. McCoy stops just outside the lift’s threshold, puts his hands on his hips, and purses his mouth at the lot of them.
Lifting a hand, Jim waves the doctor forward after discovering that his mouth and throat are a little too dry to use his voice.
McCoy ignores the invitation, however, instead veering off for a tour of the upper deck. There, McCoy wakes up the young fellow drooling over Weapons and tells him, “Get yourself to Sickbay.” Then he continues his tour, occasionally laying a hand on someone’s forehead, pushing a bottle of water into their hands, or giving them a long look and an order to vacate their post.
As though surfacing from a dream to the waking world, Spock pauses in his work as McCoy passes him by. Then he turns suddenly, directing his stare straight at Kirk. Jim is slow to react, simply staring back with a vague bemusement.
As still as the Vulcan is sitting, his station starts to do a strange little dance.
A snapping of fingers in front of Kirk’s face brings his brain back online.
“Jim,” McCoy says, his voice oddly gentle, having somehow arrived at Kirk’s chair without the captain noticing. “You’re looking peaky. I’m going to need you to head down to Sickbay with the rest.”
“What?” Jim says back.
The doctor repeats, “Sickbay. You’re overheated.”
Jim shakes his head—and immediately ceases that action as the bridge tilts at too far in one direction. McCoy wraps a hand around his arm, tugging him out of his chair. Jim thinks the dark-haired man says something like, “This might not have been a good idea.”
“It was a great idea,” Jim argues, swaying enough that the doctor has to use his other hand to fully steady Kirk. “Look how happy he is!”
McCoy hisses, “Jim,” but oh, it is far too late.
“Doctor,” the person in question intones from behind the pair. Then, “Captain.”
Jim tilts his head to look back. “Whoa. Where did you come from?”
Spock stares down at him. Jim has the impression Spock is quickly reassessing his comfortable work environment against the overall predicament the crew is in.
McCoy interrupts Kirk’s train of thought by manhandling a sideways-lurching Jim right into the Vulcan’s grasp. “Spock, help me get this fool to where he needs to be.”
“Bones!”
“Hush, Jim. I told you to stay hydrated.”
Jim laughs, pointing out inanely, “I don’t have sleeves.”
“Yeah, well, I’m in shorts.”
Kirk looks down. Indeed, McCoy looks fit in his very, very non-regulation outfit. “Are those sandals?”
“God,” complains the doctor, “I should have known. You Iowa boys know nothing about summer wear.”
Jim would make a smart comeback to that, except he is much too busy making certain he doesn’t trip over his own feet. Not that he is actually walking on his own—more like being dragged along between a grumble-grouch teddy bear and a crook-necked statue made almost entirely of disapproval.
As the lift door slides closed on their three-person group, Spock wants to know, “Doctor, am I to assume you and the Captain are responsible for the ship’s malfunctioning temperature controls?”
Before McCoy can hedge an answer, Jim proclaims proudly, “You’re welcome!”
Mr. Disapproval looks even less pleased than he did a moment ago.
On the other side of Kirk, McCoy grimaces. “We can explain.”
“You will explain, Dr. McCoy,” the Vulcan informs them, but following a hard pause also decides, “immediately after Jim’s treatment.”
McCoy sighs against Kirk’s ear, slipping his arm more firmly around Jim’s waist to support his weight. “It’s okay, Jim,” the doctor murmurs for his hearing only, “you can pass out now.”
“Thanks,” Jim returns, and takes his CMO up on that offer.
Related Posts:
- Bordering Warm (2/2) – from December 3, 2017
