imaythrowuponyou | TWO

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TWO | VOICE

[Hello again, Barge. This time, McCoy sounds a little less clipped and frazzled and more just grouchy, because he’s had time to settle in, but he’s still very :| about the whole idea of being able to just walk around on deck in the open air with space just… hanging out there. It’s a strange thing to adjust to.

... He has definitely been keeping as far away from the deck railing as possible, if he's even wandered out there since Jim dragged him out there.]

I already got the talk about the ship not always bein' like this, and lookin' like it's about ready to get hauled off to some scrapyard, but is anyone else bothered by the fact that we’re wanderin’ around on a ship whose hull’s apparently got the strength of goddamn rice paper? What’re we even crashin’ into out here? It’s not like we’re tryin’ to navigate around some asteroid field.

I’m not sure what’s worse, havin’ your eyeballs pop in a real hull breach or come back psychologically damaged from some goddamned left turn that sends us crashin’ into whatever the hell there is to bump into out here.

And that's just how it is? And no one else's all that worried about it? What the hell happens if you fall over the side?

[Private to Jim]

So, what'd you do that got Martha askin' about phaser burns? [Because lolz it was definitely not Spock. :|]

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So long as you're not gonna shoot anyone, I can probably find it in me to forgive you. [It's a grumble, and he's still eying him a little suspiciously, but he's not really thinking he needs to start bringing a phaser with him or wondering what the hell is going on here.]

What can I do for you?

I spoke to you briefly the other day. Preexisting condition.

[ John seems alert, but far from hostile; he doesn't ever really relax, but having decided the T-X probably isn't hiding in here dressed like a nurse, he's less immediately on edge. ]

Right. Well, pleased to meet you in person, Mister...? [Because you were all mysterious and such with your lack of introduction, John.]

John Connor. [ What the hell, he's gonna go right to Sarah after this, might as well. He even extends a hand - see, he's not gonna shoot you, McCoy. ] I take it you don't have the Resistance where you're from.

[ Which must be the name of his military outfit, given that his insignia and badges don't match up with any particular Earth country. ]

There's probably one somewhere, but probably not the one you're referrin' to. [And he is accepting that handshake. Thank you for not being a crazy person here to shoot up the infirmary, John.]

So, what brings you down here?

[ Someday, he'll ask someone if their world was ever obliterated by a nuclear holocaust. Not now. ]

Chest trauma. I had a heart transplant a little over a month ago and was still undergoing recovery treatment when I got recruited to come here.

[ ... yep. ]

[There is no better way to get him freaked out.]

What the hell are you doing out of bed? Sit down, right now, I'm gettin' a scanner. [And he's pointing at a bed before heading off to do just that.]

[ Fortunately, being married to a military doctor means John knows better than to argue. When McCoy returns, John has set his weapons aside (safety on all of 'em), removed his jacket, and seated himself quietly. Up close, it's easier to tell that the lacerations on his face haven't fully healed yet, either. ]

[That is the kind of reaction McCoy likes, because it's easier than just hypo-ing you in the neck and dragging you onto the bed. He frowns at the wounds on his face and immediately gets the tricorder going.]

What kinda treatment were you workin' with?

Steroids and stem cell transplants, mostly. [ He hands over a small tube that's been taped off with a green tag - sterile - that is apparently said stem cell cocktail. ] That came with me. If you have anything more advanced or equivocal, I'd prefer it, so I can send my supplies back home.

Edited 2011-10-08 05:56 (UTC)

[He takes the tube and looks it over, before running the tricorder over that, too. Not that he doesn't trust John's word on it, but simply because he wouldn't be a good doctor if he didn't double check.] Running low back there?

[ John's never seen any of these types of scanners before, but it's easy enough to infer what they do. Neat. ]

Mm. [ he nods, confirming. ] My base is on front lines in a fallout zone.

[ And it would be a strain on resources for him to recover there, so... advanced tech, he is all for it. ] What's your outfit?

Starfleet. We're an exploratory and defense service maintained by the United Federation of Planets. You pre-First Contact? [The scans are coming up as human, which could mean either he's from around World War Three - which was probably unlikely - or he was from some alternate Earth.]

Space travel? [ He sounds mildly interested in that; for all Skynet's done, John will always be invested in science and the ways it can further life and good works without being dehumanizing. ]

Assuming that happens where I'm from, yeah. Never heard of it.

Yeah. Space travel. [Considering that's what Starfleet is all about, feel free to ask away. c:]

I'm gonna use a dermal regenerator on your face, it'll heal up the lacerations pretty quick. The skin will be a little tender for a while, but it'll be fine. The internal stuff's gonna need time to heal on its own. I can boost it a little, but you really need time to recover.

What's that like? [ BESIDES BEING FULL OF DISEASE AND DANGER? ]

I figured. Did you - [ er - slightly hesitation, he apparently is not wholly ignorant to the lunacy of his injuries ] want to see the whole thing?

[You're asking the wrong person if you want the not disease and danger version. :C] ... Complicated. We've been to a lotta places, and not all of 'em are nice, but I'd be lying if I said I hated my job.

That'd be helpful.

Edited 2011-10-16 03:51 (UTC)

Nowhere's really that nice. [ He doesn't sound too fussed about it, though. People are people. ] Something to be said for scenery change.

[ Carefully but deliberately, John gets his shirt off - he's bandaged pretty securely but it's still ... you know, a through and through wound that got him through his ribcage into his heart and out his chest. He stands up and turns around. ]

That'd be the entry wound. [ Which is also very tidily bandaged. ]

Keeps things interesting.

[Casual conversation is being interrupted to look that all over. The scanner told him what he needed to know, but it's still another thing to actually see it.] Dermal regenerators can take care of the external stuff. It'll be more tender than the wounds on your face, so don't poke it too much. How bad's the pain level?

So you just explore?

[ It's not as gruesome as it was; his wife is a stellar surgeon. ] ... It sucks.

Explore, help out people who need it, check in on people who're doing research, drop off supplies, sometimes we get dragged into political confrontations... We do a lot.

[He can imagine. How the hell you've been coping without decent meds is kind of beyond him. So he's wandering off a few paces to grab some painkillers.] Got any allergies?

That's... pretty incredible. [ Even before Judgment Day, the idea of supporting a system like that - just on ONE PLANET - was utterly unthinkable for humanity. ]

No. [ Hallelujah. ] Are those narcotic?

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TWO | VOICE

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