AMOK TIME, THE DAY AFTER
by Anna Perotti - Revisited by James D. Ausfahl
SUMMARY: Dr. McCoy learns to his own expense that it's not wise to pick and bring home unknown things.
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Studios, the following a non-profit work of fan fiction. No resemblance to any individual, living or dead, is intended.
Amok Time: The Day After
Relieved, Doctor McCoy entered his quarters seeking a well deserved rest. It had been a very long day, full of unexpected events, but, in the end, he had been pleased with the outcome. To see the sudden, if brief, explosion of emotion on Spock's face when he had found himself facing Captain Kirk, alive and healthy, was worth the trouble! He grinned to himself while, as was his custom, he emptied his trousers pockets before disrobing. He had the habit of putting anything that caught his eye into his pockets and he'd learned that the ship's laundry facilities were anything but kind to things inadvertantly left in there. As he turned out his pockets, he saw the usual and familiar collection of oddments. Only one object caught his eye.
"What the... A pebble?" he muttered to himself, turning the object over in his hands. Momentarily curious, he tried to remember what had motivated him to pick it up. The pebble was thoroughly nondescript and barely bigger than the end of his thumb, but there was tiny patch of green attached to it. As soon as he saw what it was, the memory came flooding back: it had been after they had materialized on Vulcan, in the place of koon-ut-kal-if-fee. His attention had been caught by two tiny,wrinkled leaves, which were scorching in the fierce Vulcan sun that, McCoy was sure, could dehydrate a camel in a few hours. He hadn't be able to recognize the variety. Considering how little he knew about botany in general, and Vulcan flora in specific , he figured that was to be expected. Curiosity piqued, he had picked them up, along with the pebble to which they desperately clung, resolving to ask Spock about them, as soon as he was able to turn his attention to things less ... more ... well, different! Then events had rushed on and he had forgotten about the whole thing.
He carefully examined the shrivelled remnants of vegetation, gently stroking them with his finger. The leaves had a waxy consistency, soft and smooth. Perhaps they weren't totally dried up. Maybe he could revive them? Moved more by compassion than logic, he went to the food dispenser, asked for a bowl of water and immersed the pebble in it along with its fragile charge.
"The proof of the pudding is in the eating," He said to himself, feeling profound, then laughing, wondering what Spock would have said if he could hear him. Whatever that seedling might be, it had nothing to do with pudding!
He could do nothing more, so he finished undressing and went to bed. He had barely time to order the computer to turn off lights before he was soundly asleep.
"Good morning, Doctor McCoy, it is half past six."
With tireless zeal, the computer replayed the message a dozen times before an angry voice with a strong southern accent, answered: "Shut up! I heard you!"
The computer was impassive. "At 7:00 you have to check the dressing on the Captain's abdomen; at 7:15, there is an auxiliary personnel briefing; at 7:30..." A slipper, thrown with skilled accuracy - a result of years of practice- hit the speaker's switch and silenced the litany.
Before leaving his quarters to go to sickbay, McCoy stopped to look at the unknown Vulcan plant. He was glad to see that the night spent in the water had done it good. The two small leaves were now fat and smooth, with a pleasant pink colour and, on the end, a tiny fringed root stretched out. The pebble had almost disappeared under two strong suckers, which adhered to it.
Pleasantly surprised, he turned to the food dispenser. "I want a pot of soil that would be suitable for a Vulcan plant, about a kilo's worth," the doctor ordered. After a moment's delay, he removed the pot and settled his little guest in it. He watered it well and promised himself to study it better as soon he had time.
***
The day had started well and gone even better. The Captain's wound was healing perfectly. McCoy did a little simple plastic surgery to erase the scar and sent him back to the bridge, wholly recovered. The few patients who were in sickbay didn't cause any worry. Spock came of his own will for his quarterly check up and submitted himself to everything without protesting nor making allusions to voodoo practices. McCoy tried to raise the subject of Vulcan flora, but didn't find Spock receptive. Well, McCoy mused, after all that his friend had been through, perhaps it was better to leave him alone. There would be another time...
The only annoyance was nurse Chapel, who, even though she did her duty with her usual care, ceaslessly sighed, her head apparently filled with romantic images of her with Spock. While checking on Spock, McCoy decided it would be safer to send her to the laboratory to do an analysis on a colony of Surgelian bacteria, just to get her out of the way. Toward the end of his shift, there was a minor emergency. An engineering technician managed to amputate his index finger with the sharp edge on a control board hatch and immediate surgery was needed to reattach it. The only problem had been rescuing the finger, which had fallen down a thin hollow space inside the device - but, for that, Scott's intervention proved decisive.
When he finally could call it a day, McCoy went to his quarters, stopped before the door and waited for it to recognize him and open. He waited several seconds, but the door failed to open. The door hissed at first, followed soon by a tremendous scream. Then a bluish smoke, accompanied by threatening sparks came out of the door jamb, just where controls should be. There was a flash and a pop, then all fell silent again. Muttering maledictions on all things mechanical under his breath , McCoy made his way to the nearest wall communicator. He triggered it, and snapped "Engineering!"
"Engineerin' here," Scotty's voice responded. "What's the matter, Doctor?"
"The door to my quarters is stuck shut. Any chance you could get it open?"
"I'll be right there, an' have it open in a jiffy."
True to his word, Scotty arrived at McCoy's cabin within minutes, but his promise of a swift repair failed to materialize. After several hours of hard work, a team of technicians led by Engineer Scott finally succeeded in opening the relacitrant door, ultimately resorting to cutting it with phasers. As soon as it was freed, it sprang inside, as if it were attached to a gigantic rubber band.
"I'll be... Who turned my quarters into a jungle?" the Doctor said, looking bewildered by the interior of his quarters. Most of the room was filled by a thorny trunk, thick as a man's arm. It twisted in every direction. Thinner branches started from it and stretched out like tentacles reaching toward any available surface, to which leaves, if that was what the bulbous masses were, adhered with all the strength of their suckers. In some places, bulkheads had begun to buckle because of the traction. On the floor, barely discernable in the mass of plant life, were the remains of the pot, which roots had shattered while growing and expanding in search of whatever was soft enough to get through or absorb. The mattress obviously had been a delicacy, but they also seemed to like the carpet; perhaps, given time, they would have developed a taste for the floor itself.
"What on Earth is that?" Scott asked as soon he recovered his power of speech.
The ordeal of ponn farr, and then koon-ut-kal-if-fee had been draining for Spock, a situation made all the worse by his brief belief that he had killed Kirk and his brief but embarassing display of emotion when he learned he had not. Although it had been over twenty four hours since it had ended, Spock had withdrawn to his quarters early, still feeling the need to spend extra hours in meditation. Initially, all had gone well, but the noise in the corridor had disturbed his trance. The whine of phasers cutting through something was more than his Vulcan discipline could endure. Hoping to restore some semblance of peace, Spock moved toward the noise, arriving as Scotty was wanting to know what on Earth the plant was.
With typical Vulcan literalness, Spock answered, "Nothing on Earth, Mr. Scott. It would seem to be a har'vhe'hk, a common plant of the Vulcan desert, one able to survive years of total and unbroken drought. Although, I must say that I have never seen a specimen of that size. My congratulations, Doctor. It would seem that you have what on your planet is called a *green thumb*!"