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[notabricklayer]

McCoy has fallen into a rhythm in the bar - waking up late (for him), coming down eventually to see if anything particularly interesting is going on, pick up something for lunch, trade in a stack of videos for a brand new stack of videos, and go back upstairs.

This morning, he is downstairs much earlier.

He is in uniform for the first time in a week.

And he doesn't detour at the Bar, striding straight to the door, no pauses, no stops, just a quick trip to the front door, which hisses open obligingly, dragging him back aboard his shipboard life.

If he were to stop, he'd never make it through that door.

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[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She flies to follow him, careening from surface to surface, just another glint of light in the too bright world of this starship.

The power source here is jittering, a wild thing, setting up a resonance around her that makes her skin crawl. It's touched a man, singed both flesh and nerves.

It takes her but a fraction of a heartbeat to slip out, grasp the thing by the throat, and drag it back into the Gloom with her. It writhes in her grasp, a wounded animal.

She ignores it, watching him and the people around him, waiting for them to disconnect the beast at the source.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He sees her - the dying boy, convulsing helplessly, he sees the impossible and knows that he is going to die here, in this ship, millions of miles from home. After all, one doesn't see ghosts and live.

McCoy doesn't see her, only knows that someone managed to get the access panel disconnected from the rest of the ship, and they're hauling the young electrocuted engineer across the hallway, flat on his back, doping him to his eyeballs with sedatives and anti-arrhythmic drugs and McCoy is praying fervently to whatever god cares to listen to ship's medics that he won't have to take the boy's hand in the end. Sure, there have been great strides in prothetics, but it won't be the same, and the boy's career, just begun, would be effectively over. The corridor reeks of burnt flesh and burnt plastics, and it becomes obvious who is in the medical department and who isn't, even without the colored tunics - everyone has cloth or hands up in front of their faces except McCoy and his crew. They've smelt worse, sometimes while grabbing a quick bite during emergencies.

Just then, they actually do shut down the panel, and someone reports as much to McCoy.

McCoy starts wondering if Spock didn't have a point about the crew needing more disaster drills.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The thing dies in her hand and she discards its hollow carcass without a second glance. The boy saw her, she knows that much.

But at least he will live.

She follows them back to the medical bay, alternately impressed with the cohesion of his team, and confused at their alien culture. She stays close to him, the only taste of home she can sense in all the fathoms around them.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

Olga is right, and the boy is wrong - he isn't about to die.

McCoy is right too, much to his disgust. His attempts to save the mangled, blackened hand end in a mid-humeral amputation, the damage below that too extensive to undo. After a terse conversation with the Captain (Kirk deeply, deeply hates losing any of his crew, something McCoy can sympathize with), McCoy settles into a chair in the recovery bay, waiting for the boy (Alston, the boy's name is Alston. Mark Alston, Engineer second class) to wake up.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

He does this every time. She thinks she's seen it so much, she'd be inured to it by now, but she isn't.

His heart is too big. (And hers, apparently, not that she'd ever admit it.)

There's a tiny little puff of air, somewhere over his left shoulder, and a tiny brown feathered body wings passed his shoulder, landing on the console.

Okay, flailing a bit, because it's slick, but she gets her balance in a moment.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

It's the sharp sound of talons on the usually unmarked plastics that gets his attention - he's already shooed all of the day staff out for the day, and the night crew tends to stay out of his way on nights like this. No one particularly wants to rile an already grumpy Doctor McCoy.







For the record, this might be the first owl sighting on board a Federation vessel.

He both knows and discredits the correct answer to this riddle in the span of heartbeats - it can't be Olya, Olya is back in the bar at the end of the universe, hopefully not getting too impatient with how long he's stayed here already.

How many other owls does he know, though?

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Well, to be fair, this owl form is considerably smaller than her usual owl form. One fifth the size, to be accurate.

The owlet cocks its head at him, and blinks.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

It can't be, so he should be diving for the shipboard comm, raising the alarm, getting help - the unexplained on board ship, this deep into space, can mean horrible things.

But first...

First, he raises a hand, stretching it out to the delicate bird.

Olya?

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Again, wide dark eyes blink at him, and a tiny taloned foot reaches out and grasps his finger.

There's a rush of warmth in his head at the contact.

He'll live.

She can give him that much, she thinks.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"He'll be discharged and sent home on the next Earth-bound ship." He replies, pulling the little owl close, casting a wary glance at the open archway to the rest of sickbay. "I'm not sure he'll make the distinction between that and death very easily." Sure, he knows it is stupid, life does not end just because a curveball got thrown...

But the kid is young. And the young are stupid, by default. He is going to take this rough.

"I know some good psychiatrists, back on Earth. They owe me some favors." Very long-standing favors, actually, tracing all the way back to a bar just outside of the campus boundaries at Mississippi State. Sometimes it pays to keep in touch with old classmates.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The bird sniffs, coughs really. The air in here is stale and smells of plastics. Her wings flutter a bit as she rearranges them, and there's a feather out of place on her breast just there.

Okay, now we're good.

Soldiers all, we go where our masters tell us. And we do not look back.

Such a lie.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

His lips thin, because he has a certain opinion about mindless military destruction of young talented lives.

They're only a few months into a five year tour, and already the captain has been treated to this particular rant several times. It comes up often, when McCoy believes Kirk is driving the crew too hard.

"Well, the only place he's going is Earth, for the near future."

He must like her. He isn't yelling yet.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The owl sighs, a remarkably pointed sound for such a small creature.

She looks him up and down, tilting her head at an odd angle.

Who was that woman?

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He blanks, not entirely sure who she is talking about - there are quite a few women on board ship, and a fair number in his department who have been around today.

"... Nurse Chapel?" He finally hazards, sounding a bit stunned, because he never thought of her as 'that woman'.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The bird straightens, and shakes its head.

No.

The word echoes in his head and dredges up a smiling face framed with dark hair.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"Oh." The word is emphatic, and tired. He shifts in his chair to settle in more comfortably, making sure with a quick glance that his patient is still doing well. The read-out is comforting.

"Doctor Helen Noel. She is one of the staff psychiatrists."

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

He shifts and she has to balance, her talons gripping his fingers with a strength far beyond what one might imagine for such a small creature. Luckily she doesn't pierce his flesh, but it's a close thing.

Once he's settled, she sniffs again, this time preening her pin feathers on one wing back into the proper configuration.

She thinks she can crook her finger and the men will trail along behind her.

Olga does not approve.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He gently pets the tiny feathers over her head, an almost absent-minded gesture.

"Not all the men." He sighs, a portion of his attention always on the steady beat of the heart monitor. "Just the one. She'll come to her senses sooner or later."

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The bird ducks a little, and glares at the fingertip.

Petting? No one pets Olga. Not without risking a fingertip.

No, not even him. (Okay, so he still has his fingertip. That's concession enough.)

The captain, you mean.

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

He isn't clear on the detail that he almost lost a finger, but he gets the point of the glare. The petting stops (even if he likes the feel of those tiny little feathers).

"Jim. She's taken a liking." His tone is terse, angry at something he cannot ever hope to define. He's been warning Kirk about this for months. He shouldn't be angry at the poor girl for falling for Jim's charm.

But he is.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The owl sniffs, fluffs up a bit.

She'll learn.

One way or another.

Lyonya? Is there some place warmer on board?

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

"The officer's lounge is usually pretty warm, and you can change the thermostat in my quarters, if you like. Or you could go hang out with Spock." He jibes, wry grin in place. "Though I'm not sure he can deal with the intrusion."

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She smiles at him, which is impossible because owls can't smile. No, it's merely the impression of a smile.

And then the impression of a warm body, unclothed, perhaps fresh from the bath? Pressing up against him.

Where are your quarters, hmm? It is too cold here.

(Strange, coming from a Russian, the phrase 'too cold'.)

[notabricklayer.livejournal.com]

At least part of him is very interested in this notion of hers. He sucks in a shaky breath, shifting again.

"I can't let the boy wake up alone, Olya." He mutters at her, with a warning glance.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

She blinks at him. And sighs.

And then glances around the room. She shifts on his hand and launches herself into the air, heading for the highest spot. Thus ensconced, she preens a bit more and then settles down, tucking her head under her wing.