Kirk coughed harshly. He couldn’t see anything, except his own hands in front of his face, which he had landed on. Everything else was a cloud of smoke and debris. Taking a mental stock, he didn’t think anything was broken. But man, he’d be sore as hell for the next few days. There was an extra weight on his hips and back crushing him though. Oh yeah.
“Scotty!” he was frustrated his voice came out as little more than a gasp. He tried again. “Scotty!” It was followed by a wave of coughing. The weight on his back shifted, followed by a coughing that wasn’t his. Men around them were beginning to stir. The weight finally lifted from his back, and he turned his head to see Scott kneeling beside him, looking very disheveled. The explosion had dyed his usual red shirt a dusty gray, and it had been torn in a few places, but at least he wasn’t bleeding. “You okay?” he panted, pushing himself up to his knees as well.
Scotty nodded vigorously, a look of mild annoyance on his face. Kirk was both relieved and amazed he wasn’t more shaken. “Holy hell, that was a right explosion! I ‘aven’t been in an explosion that big before!” Kirk regarded the chief engineer skeptically. Had he actually been happy to be in an explosion? Kirk wouldn’t have put it past him. Scotty then proceeded to look around, twisting his head quickly. “Where’s Commander Spock?”
Shit. “Spock!” There was no answer. Kirk got to his feet, swaying a little as he began to blink the dust out of his eyes. “Spock!”
“Captain! Over here!” Kirk turned behind him to see Scotty throwing a large panel aside. He hurried over to find Spock’s arm and head sticking out from under debris. He wasn’t moving.
“Help us!” he shouted over the din of Scotty struggling to lift steel off the first officer. A few more men scrambled over to help free the Vulcan while Kirk put his ear next to his face. He was breathing. But slowly. Kirk screwed up his face, having no idea if that was a normal breathing rate for a Vulcan or not. He made a mental note to ask Bones a little more about Vulcan physiology. Bones! He knew he had forgotten something. He reached for his belt, only to find his communicator smashed. He reached for Spock’s belt, just as the other men were clearing the last of the debris off of him. Luckily, his communicator had fared better than Kirk’s own. “Kirk to McCoy, we have a medical emergency on Deck Six, get your ass down here!” He didn’t wait for a reply, instead turning back to Spock. A large piece of shrapnel was protruding from his thigh, stained dark green. Kirk ripped off his yellow shirt, exposing the black one underneath. One of the security grunts reached to pull out the shrapnel. “Don’t touch it!” he yelled. The man froze. “God, don’t they give you guys any medical training?” He turned his shirt inside out, wrapping it around the shrapnel, staunching the flow of blood. Unfortunately, Spock chose that moment to wake up.
“J…Jim,” he started struggling to sit up. Kirk put a hand on his chest, easing him back down to the floor.
“Woah, buddy. You might not want to look.” Spock let out a very slight groan, and Kirk almost missed it.
“I assure you, Captain…I could not look…even if I wanted to.” Spock seemed to have recovered his breath somewhat, but his statement took Kirk aback.
“What…do you mean?” he asked, scared of the answer. But he had a feeling he already knew the answer. Tentatively, he waved a hand in front of Spock’s face. The Vulcan did not react. He turned to stare at Scotty, who looked just as shocked as he was. “Oh…my…god…you’re blind!”
Spock let out a shuddery breath, of both pain and what seemed to be frustration. “Fortunately, it is only…temporary.” Kirk’s shocked look changed to one of confusion.
“And, you know this how?”
“A physical…reaction in Vulcans to…extreme light sources…” he looked like he wanted to go on, but Kirk, sensing this, gently placed a hand on his chest.
“It’s ok, you can just explain it to me later.” Definitely had to ask McCoy more about Vulcan physiology.
No sooner had the thought sprung to mind when the doctor showed up with a team from the docking station’s medical bay. “Over here!” Kirk shouted waving him over. The doctor rushed over.
“My god, man, you have to stop doing this to me,” he growled, moving his tricorder over Spock’s body.
“You are a doctor,” Kirk huffed back. Turning his tone more serious, he said “He’s the worst hurt. He’s temporarily blinded-”
“What?!” McCoy shouted, interrupting him.
“Doctor, it is…a Vulcan…reaction-” Spock tried to explain.
“Right,” the doctor said, seeming to remember some information. He turned to his assistants. “Get this one on the stretcher, but I want the rest of you,” he briefly glanced at the crew in turn, “to report to medical for exams.” He got up then, helping to lift Spock with five others on to the stretcher. To Spock’s credit, he offered no hint that he was being caused any pain, other than a slight scrunching of his facial features. “That’s an order!” he shouted as they hurried back the way they had come.
Kirk stood again slowly, Scotty with him. They marched off to medical.
Fifteen minutes later, Kirk found himself on a bed looking into a nurse’s penlight. McCoy had accompanied Spock into minor surgery to make sure the shrapnel was removed safely. “We don’t expect any complications,” she said, finishing her explanation. “He should be out within the next hour or so. He probably only needs stitches,” she said, finishing shining the bright lights into his eyes.
Kirk blinked rapidly to clear the spots that had appeared in his vision. “What about his blindness, what’s the deal with that?” he asked.
“Oh,” she said, as if she were being asked to recite something rather commonplace. “Vulcans have a natural protection against harsh light. A second eyelid, you might say, comes down to protect their eyes. Unfortunately it leaves them temporarily blinded for a few hours, but it’s nothing too serious.” She said.
Scotty, who was being examined on the bed next to him looked confused. “Huh. Weird.” Was all he said. The nurse shot him a scathing look, like he had just insulted aliens everywhere. The look wasn’t lost on him. “Uh…sorry,” he said, somewhat abashed.
“Perhaps I am not the one you should be apologizing to,” she huffed. She turned back to Kirk, who caught Scotty’s scowl and tried to suppress a grin. “You are free to go, Captain. But if you feel any nausea, loss of hearing or vision, or blackouts, seek medical care immediately.” He hopped off the bed, surprised at how shaky his legs felt. Now that the threat of the intruder had been dealt with, he was resigned to take a shower and then crash into bed. The Enterprise’s launch had been delayed another day, so maintenance crews could repair the damaged area of Deck Six. For the time being, the crew had been asked to return, but were to remain in their quarters and recreational areas of the ship, to make sure they were all accounted for and the maintenance crews were free to work.
He waved at Scotty. “See you later, Scotty.” Besides a shower and sleep, he needed a new shirt.
***
A few hours later, he was awakened from his deep slumber by the door chime. He groaned into his pillow. “It’s me,” he heard McCoy say from the other side of the door.
Kirk groaned louder this time, rolling over. “Go away,” he moaned loudly. Instead, the doors whooshed open, admitting the doctor. Kirk sluggishly moved to an upright position. “How’d you do that?” he slurred tiredly.
“Medical override. At least I gave you the courtesy of knocking.” Kirk blinked the sleep out of his eyes, taking in his chief medical officer seriously. The man looked almost as much of a wreck as he did. The doctor threw something on his bed. He realized it was a bundled up shirt. “I assumed you wanted your shirt back. It’s been cleaned.”
“Aw, c’mon Bones. You didn’t come back to give me a shirt. You missed me!” Kirk teased.
McCoy rolled his eyes. “Do you care what happens to your officers?” he said droningly.
Kirk feigned offense. “Of course I care! But I knew they were in your capable hands, so I wasn’t about to lose sleep over it.” He said, only half-joking.
“Obviously,” McCoy muttered. He knew Kirk did care, but in truth the Captain had been through a lot, and really did need the rest. His tone turned serious. “Spock’s surgery went fine. He only needed 15 stitches on his thigh. He should be good to report to regular duty by tomorrow.”
“How’s Sulu?” Kirk said, leaning forward.
McCoy sighed. “Honestly, after the rest of you got blown up, I haven’t really had time to check on him myself. The nurses report he’s doing well though.” Kirk nodded.
“Jim, what’s going on here? We’re getting attacked on our own ship by bleedin’ Romulan ninjas.” He moved over to a chair and sat down heavily. Kirk rubbed his face wearily.
“Hell if I know, Bones. If it is Nero’s crew, why did they wait until now to attack? Why not kick us when we were down?”
“Well, we did destroy their ship. Maybe they couldn’t get a replacement until now.” McCoy shrugged.
“Yeah, but why just send one guy?”
“Would you attack a federation vessel while it was still docked?” McCoy raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“Point taken,” said Kirk, defeated. McCoy sighed, and leaned back in his chair.
“They’re probably lying in wait for us, somewhere out there. Just testing us.”
Kirk knew his friend was right. “That may be, but we can’t just not go into space.” McCoy sighed again, standing up to leave.
“Well, just watch our backs while we’re flying.” Kirk shot his friend a lopsided grin.
“Don’t I always?” McCoy huffed, but the corner of his mouth turned upward in a reaction to his captain’s cockiness. “Get some rest yourself, Bones. You look like you need it.”
McCoy scowled. “I don’t need an invitation,” he said as the doors closed behind him.
