outer_divide | [Video, Monday Evening, Week 14] CMO's Log: Entry One

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[Video, Monday Evening, Week 14] CMO's Log: Entry One

[It's shortly after Nem's message goes out that a new face appears on the network. Bones had awoken from his pod a couple hours previously, but had spent the time finding his pants and prowling around with a suspicious glower, trying to get his bearings and trying to place just what the hell sort of alien storage facility he's found himself shunted to.]

I don't know where the hell I am, or who the hell you people are, but if you need shelter or you need medical help, then I'm inside some sort of stasis facility and the walls here look good and thick.

The name's McCoy. Dr. Leonard McCoy.

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[ It's pure chance that Jim happened to look at the network at all. Things have been kind of busy. So when the video comes on, he looks tired, but he's managing, like he always does. ]

Bones?

Oh! Spock. Oh no. He's far more serious than I am. [Clearly Wing has thought about this himself.]

You are right. My apologies. I could bring you something if you need?

I guess that depends on what all I should need. Any recommendations? Just how wild is this Wild West you've got going on here?

[Bones' gaze dips downwards, as he takes in the sum total of himself and his personal effects with a bare grimace.]

Wing.

[Bones repeats the name this time, squinting at Drift across the video pickup as he attempts to somewhat petulently get his bearings in a world that now includes giant sentient robots.]

The other giant robot. And you have a Ratchet, who apparently manages to practice medicine on the silicone set. Who are you? Monkey Wrench?

Flamethrowers? What is this, the twentieth century? If I'm going to be having to regenerate third degree burns...

Hrmph. Well, thank you for the primer. How often are people running afoul of them?

[The reference sails over his head. Of course.]

Well. We have had dinosaurs.

[It helps that Bones is holed up on the ship, waiting on the chemical-laced fog surrounding it to lift and growing steadily more bored with waiting as the hours pass. His response when the message comes through is immediate and exasperated and entirely unfair. Because he cares.]

Jim! What the hell have you gotten up to this time?

[Drift just brightens and laughs. Well, not the usual reaction, but this guy makes him a little homesick.]

Ahaha- Drift, actually. Just Drift.

I believe their primary purpose was the destruction of structures and fields, not of people, although I doubt they would hesitate to use them in such a fashion.

They have attacked this settlement twice in the past three months alone, and patrol their borders quite strictly. The exact location of those borders is...unfortunately malleable.

Of course it is.

So, aside from burning crops, what do these people want? Seems like if extermination's all they're going for, they could pull it off a lot tidier.

Dinosaurs.

Pull the other one, it's got bells on it.

[Have another bit of colloquialism to baffle you, Wing.]

Wing. Drift. Got it. The names mean anything, or is that the giant robot equivalent of John and George?

Well... kind of? I mean, they usually have something to do with our personalities or our alt-modes. Wing is a flier, so naturally. Ahah.

Me? I used to be kind of a drifter. [Homeless.] Annndddd I suppose had I really applied it, the body of a racer. So there's that.

Pull the other what?

[Blink.]

H-hey! Don't blame me for this. It's not like I just decided to let someone waltz on my ship and kidnap people. Anyway, most people can't do with without Scotty's equation, right? Last I knew, no one outside Starfleet had that info.

[ He sighs. ]

Look. I don't know how we got here, but this place is all kinds of messed up.

Leg.

As in 'you're pulling my leg'.

[Bones' tone is the patiently snarky one of a pedant explaining something.]

As in the notion of millions of years extinct animals roaming around is patently ridiculous. Unless you're talking about local creatures that just look like 'em.

The body. Of a racer.

How about we jump ahead to where you explain what that means.

You're telling me. A nice intelligent blue lady who I really hope you haven't offended yet explained a few things, and a pair of what are apparently giant intelligent robots explained a little more. Some sort of war zone between two planets, with godforsaken chemical fogs and a blue energy dome full of flamethrower-toting facists?

And then there's something up with Spock... You owe me a drink, Jim.

What?

OH! Sorry. My species have alternate modes. Vehicles, usually. Mine is a vehicle that is fit for speed and maneuverability.

That's completely bizarre.

[A pause.]

Good for you. So. What can you tell me about the people here? I'm betting they can use a doctor.

Ahahaa... ha. Yeah. I guess. We've always been that way.

Uh, probably yes. We don't really have much here, so pretty much anything you can do.

I haven't offended anyone, Bones, ladies love me and you know it.

...Spock? What are you even talking about? Did you hit your head?

[ He knows he missed something, being on the trip and all, but now he's second-guessing himself. Damnit, Bones. ]

He's wearing blue pyjamas and calling them a Starfleet uniform, Jim. [Bones' delivery is deadpan perfection.] If there's head trauma, it's not me.

[He isn't touching the question of the ladies' inexplicable love for James Tiberius Kirk.]

Although I thought of a couple other possibilities.

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[Video, Monday Evening, Week 14] CMO's Log: Entry One

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