Interludes: Cheek-to-Cheek

The ship orbited Starbase 2 for repairs after the incident with the Romulans. The crew had been essentially let off duty to release the steam of the encounter and only a skeleton crew remained to work on repairs.  Commander Spock had finished with the phaser control relays on the bridge and was now working on the auxiliary phaser room.  The air in the forward phaser room had been recirculated five times now, which made it safe to be worked in again.  He would be working in the crawlspace above the phaser coolant hold.  The leak was contained, but the relay that should have prevented the leak in the first place needed repaired.  With tool kit in tow, he started up the ladder to the crawlspace.  The intensely claustrophobic feeling that he had was immediately stopped.  It had no place here.  He worked for two hours to get the unwieldy glass cover off the housing.  It was useless now.  A large crack had been the result of the relay overload and subsequent leak.  Setting it aside, he switched mechanisms and upgraded the relay to a newer model that didn’t require the cover at all.  It would be much more efficient.  If they had installed it before now Tomlinson would not have died.  Spock finished his repairs and with tool kit and glass cover in hand, started back down the stairs.  His mind was dwelling on the death of the crewman who had wished to marry.  His fiancé was still in the grieving process.  If his fiancé died, would he grieve?  He didn’t think so.  Spock’s normally sure footing slipped and trying to get a better grip on the ladder rungs, he didn’t succeed and fell the rest of the way to the floor below.  The fall was not what hurt.  It was landing on the glass cover and feeling the glass embed itself into his gluteus maximus and lower right leg that alarmed him.  Knowing that this was an injury too severe to warrant a band-aid, he struggled to get to his feet without ramming the glass in further.  He found the glass had damaged his right leg enough to make it difficult to walk without a limp.  Gathering his tool kit, he signaled maintenance and hobbled to sickbay.  

Christine Chapel was busy trying to stay busy.  It was her first EMT duty onboard the starship.  Due to the rotations of shore leave, someone had to be aboard at all times to render medical aid if necessary.  She spent her off time rearranging the furniture and finding out as much as she could about the inner workings of the place she now called home.  She’d only been aboard ten months and had already seen enough action to last her awhile.  This last had been the worst.  She had spent the better part of the night with Angela Martine trying to comfort her.  She knew all too well what it was to lose her fiancé.  After all, that was why she was there.  Sitting at her station and reviewing more personnel files, she was startled by the swooshing of the outer door.  “In here,” she called.  
Commander Spock stepped in as calmly as if he were asking the time and presented himself to her care.  She seemed capable although he had never had to avail himself to her services.  Now, he had to trust her abilities or else go around with glass in his posterior till McCoy got back.  At that thought, he nearly groaned.  If McCoy had been here he’d have to wait till the hilarity died down to be attended to.  He expected the same treatment from her.  “Nurse.”
“Yes, Mr. Spock, how may I help you?” she asked self-consciously coming to attention.  
“I am in need of medical assistance,” he said succinctly.
“Oh, what’s wrong?” she asked.  She didn’t see anything the matter with him.
It didn’t matter that he was supposed to be Vulcan.  He was uncomfortable discussing this situation with a woman.  “I fell and fear I have injured myself.”
“Oh, well, come into the exam room, and I’ll take a look,” she smiled and ushered him ahead of her.  Spock did so and she could see his limp, “You’ve hurt your leg?”
“Actually, it is my right buttock.  I landed on glass and it is imbedded, rather deeply I am afraid,” he answered trying not to wince as he moved his leg to sit on the table.  There would be no sitting.  He’d have to lean.  
“First thing, you’ll need to disrobe.  I can’t find glass fragments with your pants on,” she explained and began gathering what she would need to work with.  Motioning to a cabinet, “There is a gown in there if you feel more comfortable with it on.”
Spock nodded.  It might be best, in case someone came in.  So far, she was remarkably controlled for a human.  She didn’t blink twice when he told her his problem.  He slipped into the gown and then slid the now ruined uniform pants off as well as his underwear.  It was soaked with blood. He could feel the blood running down his leg into his sock as he had walked there.  Removing the boots and socks, he disposed of all the destroyed items and tried not to drip while he got on the table.  Lying on his stomach, he was grateful for the gown.  With a tray of assorted medical instruments, she pulled a rolling chair over and lowered the table to an almost coffee table height.  “I’m going to clean the leg first and try to ascertain how much glass you have in you before doing any patching,” she informed professionally.  
The bare behind of the ship’s first officer was comical, if she were off duty.  On duty, he was hurt and deserved her full attention.  The antiseptic that she used to clean the blood that ran down his leg was frigid and he stiffened.  It also stung.  Next came a solution that when it came into contact with something other than living tissue glowed in the dark.  It would allow her to see the tiniest fragments and remove them easier than digging and groping.  She was sure he’d show no emotions at the pain, but still did not want him to be put through it.  Sitting on the chair, she picked up the tweezers and rolled over to the light to turn it off.  Spock’s behind glowed like a million fireflies in a jar.  “You do seem to have a large amount of glass.  I’ll try to do this as quickly as possible.”
Spock nodded in the dark, “I am fully confident in your abilities.”
“Thank you.  So, exactly how did this happen?  I’ll have to enter it into the log.”
Spock closed his eyes, the log.  It would seem that McCoy would be bound to find out about it anyway.  He explained with a small sigh at the end.  
“I see.  Well, I’m sure we don’t have to put the entire account into the log,” she said.  He did not ask what she meant.  
After 34.8 minutes, she finished.  There were only two or three pieces that had really caused trouble.  They were deeply imbedded and required that she dig.  She apologized each time she did so.  Finally, she switched the light on, “Well, I believe that is all.  Now we’ll get the wound dressed so it can heal.  I can’t really seal it, since those muscles are essential, they need to be able to stretch or you’ll end up with a limp.  I’m sorry.”
“It is understandable.  The pain is greatly improved just having the fragments removed,” Spock replied.  His head was propped up on his crossed arms.  Christine rolled the chair so that she could see his face.  He looked into her eyes.  She smiled, “I’ll give you something for the pain if you wish.  If not, I’m sure you can handle it.  I wouldn’t suggest that you do much sitting for a few days however.  Stand or lean as much as possible.”
Spock nodded.  Yes, he would follow her prescription.  Something in her manner told him that this nursing position was not one best suited for her talents.  She had an easy way about her.  She had no compunctions to pester him or judge him the way most people did.  He found her a welcome stark contrast to Leonard McCoy who would have come up with at least twelve derriere jokes while he was there.  She stood up, “Well, as far as I can do, you’re done.  I’ll order you a new uniform to put on before you go.”
She did so and left him to dress alone.  She was brisk and efficient.  She was someone he could get along with.