Star Trek_ A Choice of Catastrophes - Michael Schuster [73]
One night he returns home and finds that the apartment door is locked. Jocelyn’s changed the code. He hits the door chime again and again. “Let me in!”
After a few minutes of this, he finally hears an answer through the door. “You’re going to wake Joanna.”
“Then let me in, dammit!”
“If you’re only going to come home when it suits you, then maybe you should find another place to live.”
He stomps off in anger and ends up spending that night at Nancy’s, falling asleep almost instantly. The next day he begins researching the possibilities for medical service in Starfleet. It’s the easiest way to get off-planet; he can take the courses he needs while he does his residency with Starfleet. The recruiters are thrilled—he’s a top-notch candidate, with his high grades and high performance evaluations.
He just wants to go.
A couple months after Joanna’s first birthday, Leonard reports to Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. He wheedles an assignment on the Republic—the same ship Nancy is on.
She doesn’t have her own quarters, but as a medical officer, he does. Nancy spends the night in his room, Jocelyn nothing but a distant memory.
Stardate 4758.0 (0058 hours)
“Doctor! Doctor McCoy! Wake up!”
McCoy felt his shoulder being jostled back and forth. His eyes snapped open, revealing Ensign Messier leaning over the desk to look in his face. Damn, he felt awful. He hadn’t fallen asleep in a chair since he was a junior medical officer on the Koop.
“Wake up before someone else dies!” That wasn’t Messier. McCoy swiveled his chair around to see another figure in his office—a man, sitting on the bench in the corner, old and frail. It was his father, looking as he had in the months before he died.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” McCoy stood up and immediately let off a pained groan.
“There’s been an accident in one of the science labs,” Messier said. The med tech’s expression was grave. “Energy spike. A device overloaded and injured Specialist Huber. He’s on his way here. Third-degree burns.”
McCoy’s mind was still fuzzy. The suppressant had done its job too well. It took him longer than normal to wake up. “I’ll be right there. Prep for surgery and get me a nurse to assist.”
Messier nodded and sped out. McCoy grabbed a clean surgical uniform. All the while, his father watched him. “I hope you can do more for him than you did for me,” he said. “Just don’t give up on him, and you’ll already be ahead of the game.”
He didn’t have time for this, not now! Determined not to be drawn into a futile argument with a figment of his overactive imagination, McCoy brushed past his father into the main sickbay. McCoy examined the man, who was only half conscious and moaning loudly.
“Why hasn’t he been sedated?” McCoy asked.
“He has been,” Messier said as she approached, pushing a cart with a surgical arch on it. “As soon as I got to him, I gave him a dose. He should be out. I gave him the correct dosage.”
“I don’t doubt that, Ensign.” This was the second patient who apparently felt immense pain despite sedation. More than a coincidence, but McCoy had no explanation.
“Take your time,” advised his father, who’d followed him in from the office. “Don’t rush into a decision or a diagnosis. You wouldn’t want to take action prematurely like you did with me.”
He bristled at his father’s accusation. “You two,” he said, pointing at two shaken-looking blueshirts standing next to the bed—doubtless Huber’s colleagues from astrophysics. “Could you lift him onto the bed?”
Third-degree burns covered the majority of Huber’s upper torso and forearms. His face was less affected, which told McCoy that he’d shielded it with his arms.
“Nurse!” he shouted. “I need some help here!” Then, to Messier, he said, “Please get them out of here.”
Nurse Thomas hurried in. At the same time, the door behind him opened, and Chapel said, “Doctor, I got a call from