001 » ACTION/TEXT

[logistical]

[action; closed to mccoy, kirk, and uhura]

[ He reaches the apartment barely out of breath. He's the picture of professionalism but anyone who knows him as well as they do will see the anxiety immediately. The Doctor'd been shouting, Jim had been coughing and Nyota -- he does not even want to consider what he might do if she's been harmed. ]

[ He knocks, the rapping hard and too loud in the empty corridor. The sharp shard in his heart is... dread. ]



[action; open]

[ The City is his to explore for the moment. He's out of uniform, dressed plainly in dark-coloured coat and pants (yes, in the heat, perks of growing up in a desert). He hasn't done anything about the ears quite yet, but a hat is with him, half-poking out of a pocket, just in case. ]

[ The meandering appears to be random, but to anyone watching closely (or long enough) a discernible pattern emerges: a simple grid layout with delays between returns to certain points. He's checking back, double checking, too. Mostly, he can be found with his tricorder, occasionally peering quizzically at it, or observing a few people at the central arrival square. (Maybe he's even observing you.) ]


[text]

[ Once he gets the hang of the network, he opts for a simple text post. No need to unnecessarily alarm anyone who is unfamiliar with aliens, and furthermore, no need to bring attention to his presence. Khan may have unexpected allies. ]

Greetings. I am a recent arrival.

What is the highest level of technology available here? Is it freely available to the populace? Where might I find parts?

Your assistance is appreciated.

Comments

after McCoy lets him inside and fills him in

[universaltranslator]

[Hearing his voice forces Uhura to push herself out of bed. Her vision goes black and she's pretty sure the floor shouldn't be doing...whatever it's doing, but she reminds herself that's just the fever talking and carefully walks towards the bedroom door, each step careful.]

Spock?

[logistical]

[He's nervous. Hearing and seeing her sick is very different from the concept of it. His own steps towards the door are purposeful, but no less careful.]

I am here.

[He looks at her curiously, studying her for any outward injuries. How are you doing? goes unsaid.]

[universaltranslator]

Kweli! [In her sickness, she often forgets to speak Federation standard and reverts to her native tongue.] You're really here...

[She yanks him in for a hug, not caring about professionalism or propriety or Vulcan manners. (Or getting him sick, which is less romantic but still true.)]

[logistical]

[He's familiar with enough words to know what she means, but it barely registers as the flood of relief, joy, and love hit him. He's always surprised, and grateful, and he hugs her back with equal affection. I am not going anywhere.]

You are unwell?

[The worry is almost panic.]

[universaltranslator]

I'll be fine. [He's here, after all. What else does she need? (McCoy would probably say To get back in bed, damn it.)]

[logistical]

[Spock, very occasionally, does agree with the good doctor.]

You should rest. I am told this illness is persistent.

[universaltranslator]

[She nods her head against him in agreement, but she doesn't otherwise move. Her addled mind isn't quite making the connection between "resting" and "returning to bed."]

[logistical]

[Which leads to him gently placing a hand on her hip, and nudging her in the direction of the room she'd come out of.]

Should I call Doctor McCoy?

[He speaks quietly, too conscious of the fact that Jim's also in the room.]

[universaltranslator]

[She shakes her head. She doesn't need the doctor; she just needs reassurance that Spock is here, which means she's not letting him go any time soon. She lets him nudge her back towards the bed.]

[logistical]

[Which he does, slowly and carefully, murmuring quietly in her ear, until they're at the door of the room before he pulls away and tilts his head towards it to indicate she should go and lie down.]

[universaltranslator]

[She murmurs faint protest when he pulls away.]

Don't leave.

[If he leaves, she's afraid he's not going to come back. Him being here is too good to be true.]

[logistical]

I am nearby.

[And that's all he needs to say, his careful grip on her arm says the rest: I am not going.]