Christine's Interesting Shuttle Trip
by J. Juls
"Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the Starfleet shuttlecraft Kepler, to any Federation vessel. We have a medical emergency onboard and are in need of assistance." From the passenger compartment, Christine heard Commander Spock's recorded message repeat itself for the umpteenth time. She doubted that any ship would respond, though; here in the remote space between Planet Artesia and the Federation, not many ships had reason to travel. They could only make best speed to Sector Beta Three, where the Enterprise would detect their call. In the meantime, while Spock fine-tuned the engines to squeeze another millicochrane out of them, Christine struggled with her patient.
Captain Kirk lay before her on the passenger couch, diaphoretic and semiconscious, struggling against his restraints as if possessed by alien beings. He had been ill for over a standard day now, his state having begun to deteriorate rapidly a few days out from Artesia. She now labored with all her skill to keep him stable. And to think that this situation had all happened for no reason! She became lost in thought as she remembered working in Sickbay that fateful day, as usual ...
Commander Spock walked into Sickbay.
"I require vaccines for a journey to Planet Artesia, Doctor. I'm bound there for a cybernetics conference."
"Artesia? Why in stars do you want to go to that dump? There must be cybernetics conferences on more interesting planets. If you insist on wasting your R & R that way."
"I assure you, Doctor, I do wish to attend this *particular* conference. And I will spend my R & R any way I please, with no help from illogical humans."
McCoy grumbled but gave Spock the hypos anyway, and everything got back to normal around Sickbay. Except Christine herself.
Just the thought of Mr. Spock, all alone in a shuttlecraft, sent her head and body spinning almost out of control! The day seemed to stretch out forever as she worked, formulating her plan at the same time. After work, she ran back to her quarters to look up Artesia on a space map. It turned out to be a five-day journey. Imagine, five days in a shuttle, alone with Mr. Spock! The thought was almost too enticing for her to bear. Consulting her terminal, she found a conference on microbiology that was going on at the same time, so she signed up for it. Then she had to visit Dr. McCoy's quarters and ask him for leave.
Doctor McCoy paced back and forth through the room in annoyance. Finally he stopped to stare at her in incredulity. "Christine, why in stars do you want to go to that conference? You know that the Artesians are more interested in making *beer* than doing any serious medical research." He paused then, bouncing on his toes, that knowing look slowly coming over his face. "It's Spock, isn't it? You want to be alone with him in the shuttle." He shook his head, chuckled. "Can't say I'm surprised." After a few minutes, he shooed her out of his quarters with an "Okay, you can go. But don't do anything I wouldn't do now, y'hear?"
She had still needed permission from the Captain, however. And, Christine thought now, it hadn't really been a surprise when he decided he was going to go along, too. She studied his flushed, delirious face and saw him again as he had been that day in the transporter room, not too long ago:
"If you think for one moment, you shameless hussy, that you are going to get your talons into my precious Spocky, you have another think a-comin'!" he'd bitched, danger in his eyes. "I'm going *with* Spookykins, and I'm going to see to it that no harlot like you *ever* even gets *near* my Greenums!"
Okay, Christine remembered now, he hadn't actually said any of that. But she could tell that's what he'd been thinking. In the false smile which didn't quite reach his eyes, in the overly-jolly way he'd uttered, "Ensign," all had been made clear.
But what about now? What was this strange malady that had put her captain in such a state? And how could she possibly help him?
"No ... no ... Spock," he murmured as she scanned him once again. Nothing. She tried another frequency. "Spock, how could I have, how could I have? Glue. I need ... to find ... the glue." No, this frequency wasn't showing any results either ... but wait. What was this?
"Commander! I think I have something on the scan, but I'm not sure what it is!"
Commander Spock hastened toward the passenger compartment. "Report, Ensign."
"Sir, I was scanning the captain with Dilurian rays when I saw this disturbance in the lower abdomen." She examined the results further as she turned it to show Spock and was hit by a realization. "It almost looks ... Tholian." They had encountered the Tholians only weeks before, and the Captain had been captured by their web for an extended time. Thorough scans afterward had been negative, but what if ... ?
"Yes, Ensign. You may be correct. Little is known about the Tholian reproductive method; perhaps the model we have is incomplete."
"Do you mean that the Tholian egg case is actually even smaller than it was thought to be?"
"Yes. As you can see, the scan detects hundreds of lifeforms. I believe these to be Tholian larvae."
"I've broken it, Spock. Your Christmas ornament. I don't know what to do! I'm oh-so-sorry." The captain sobbed.
"That was my thought as well, Commander. And they are growing in this area," she indicated a point on the tricorder screen which showed a mass now grown to over three centimeters in diameter.
"Yes, deep inside the rectum. Should we attempt removal now or wait?"
"One moment, Sir." Christine scanned the captain again. There was no Dr. McCoy this time. She'd have to use her own medical knowledge in this case, and actually she felt an odd sense of power to know that her captain's life relied only on her.
"I have to ... kill myself! That's what I'll do! Where is my phaser? No, I'm too afraid. I'll ask McCoy for a hypospray, and ... "
It didn't look good. His temp and BP had been dropping for hours, pulse ox was getting worse, he continued to dehydrate and she didn't have infinite water hypos on board. Also, she had already given him more than the maximum recommended dose of metacordrazine. Nervous system scans showed that some larvae, until now too small to be detected, were migrating toward the captain's brain, and some may have already reached it. These larvae were the probable cause of his current state. If the egg sac were removed now, it might be possible to reverse his condition with regular hypos of Trocodrazil. If not ...
"Spock. Thank you ... for all our ... Christmases together ... "
"We need to remove it now, Sir."
"Understood. Do you require assistance?"
Christine thought about it. If the captain went into neural shock from the procedure, there would be little that one more person could do ... yet she realized that it might be important to Spock to stay by the captain's side. Oh, he'd deny it until his dying day, of course, the illogic of it ... but it was true nevertheless. She turned to him. "I'm not sure; I may need some help. Can you get him into position while I get the surgikit?"
Christine went aft to the stowage area, confident that Spock could easily restrain the delirious captain with his Vulcan strength. She heard movement; the captain moaned. "I'll make it up to you, Spock. Don't leave me." She retrieved the surgikit and went back to the captain. Spock had him prone on the couch and was refastening the straps as Kirk stuggled against them. "No, I can't stay here, in this time," he mumbled. "I have to save those people."
"It's all right, Jim. We're going to help you. Just be still."
Christine opened the surgikit.
And found only a few scraps of metal and plastic where the instruments should be.
Spock finished closing the last restraint. "Yes, Ensign?"
"The anal probe ... it's gone! In fact, almost all the instruments are gone from the kit!"
Spock paused, slowly raising one eyebrow in puzzlement. Then the other eyebrow joined it in realization. He allowed himself an almost-human sigh. "I should have known. Logic has failed me here; that much is obvious. I need to remember that when dealing with Humanity, one often needs to use more ... circuitous logic."
Christine wanted in on the secret. "What are you talking about, Sir?"
"Last week, Mr. Scott used this shuttle to travel to an engineering conference on Rattis III."
"Yes, I remember giving him his vaccinations."
"While he was en route, however, a bomb threat was called in to the conference site. The conference was moved to Temperance VII."
Christine was shocked! "Temperance VII?! But on Temperance VII ... if Mr. Scott went there, and they don't ... "
"Undoubtedly, Ensign. Undoubtedly. Mr. Scott used the surgikit to construct a primitive still."
Christine thought. Well, at least the kit still contained ultraplast gloves and L-Z jelly. "I'll try to retrieve it manually, Sir." She took a hypo of general anaesthesia and prepared to administer it.
"Be still, Jim," Spock cooed. "It will all be over in a moment." Christine pressed the hypo to Kirk's neck.
Spock parted the captain's hospital gown and positioned his legs so Christine would have access. She slid one finger in as far as she could, probing. She couldn't locate the mass, though. Spock scanned again with the tricorder. "I don't think success is possible this way, Nurse. You are short by 18.2 centimeters. Another method will have to be tried."
Confused and disappointed, Christine retrieved her finger and peeled her gloves off. "Another method? What do you mean, Commander?"
"I'll be using the only logical method in this situation." With that, he unsealed his trousers and pushed the front of his underwear down. "I'm sorry you have to see this, Nurse, but I may require your assistance in reaching the mass."
Christine, in those first shocked moments, couldn't help but stare at Mr. Spock's large, green organ as he pumped it to ready it for entry. Of course, she had seen Spock unclothed in Sickbay, and she had studied Vulcan anatomy in nursing school, but she had never actually seen the Vulcan penis-tentacle at full extension before. She finally was able to look away but couldn't help watching out of the corner of her eye as Mr. Spock continued to stimulate himself, and his penis grew longer, firmer, the tentacle at the end writhing, searching with blind instinct for the female Vulcan's ovary, to latch onto and pull free its jealously-guarded egg.
"I shall endeavor to remove the organisms now," Mr. Spock declared as he purposefully slid his penis into the captain's jelly-covered anus. He worked his way inward, rocking gently, thrusting ever-so-slowly, trying to reach the invading mass. But, even with his impressive length, Christine saw, it would be a difficult maneuver. Spock grunted, having difficulties.
"I can feel ... the mass, but I cannot ... grasp it," he managed between thrusts. "As you know, Nurse, the Vulcan penis tentacle needs to be stimulated at its base in order for the prehensile reflex to be activated. You will need to get behind me and push."
"I ... what? Oh, yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir." Christine hurried over behind Mr. Spock and, grabbing the captain by the hips, pulled him back while simultaneously pushing Spock forward with her own hips, in time with his rhythm. They tried this method for several minutes, during which Christine had to forcefully remind herself not to get horny. It was difficult, however, being so close to Spock, and in this situation -- the captain began to moan.
"I'm afraid I had only the one hypo of general anaesthetic, Sir."
"Oh, Spock, Spock, harder, harder," the captain murmured as he began to wake.
"Nurse ... I'm afraid ... my technique ... will not be ... successful," Spock finally admitted. He stopped so both of them could catch their breath.
"To boldly go, to boldly go. I *like* the sound of that. I *like* the sound."
Christine pried her fingers from the captain's hips. "Mr. Spock, I ... um ... don't think my arms are strong enough to pull the captain back toward you. That might be the problem."
"Maybe if I went to the other end and pushed with my ... legs?"
Christine removed her shoes and went to the other end of the couch, by the captain's head. Bracing her back against the bulkhead, she placed one foot on each of his shoulders. "I'm ready, Mr. Spock."
"Resuming." He started pushing again, and Christine applied an opposing force in steady rhythm. Unfortunately, her rear end kept sliding down the couch until it was right in the captain's face, and there wasn't anything she could do about it without disrupting Mr. Spock's efforts. "Almost there, almost there," he whispered.
The captain picked that moment to come fully out of the anaesthesia, back to his delirium. "Almost there," he moaned. He turned his head; sightless eyes took in Christine's bodily position, and they almost focused for a moment. "Miramanee! Oh, Miramanee!" He plunged forward and rooted in Christine's crotch, pushing aside her thong panties with his nose.
"I'll absolutely *kill* that Mr. Scott the next time I see him," she muttered to herself. Then she began to change her mind, however, because she found out what a lucky gal Miramanee had been! She almost didn't have the heart to push the captain away anymore, so delightful was his oral action. Then Spock broke into her thoughts.
"Ensign, your plan is working! The captain is approaching the angle of attack that I need. Just brace your arms against the wall and press into the couch, lowering your genitals 3.8 centimeters. This should draw his thorax down and allow for access."
"I ... what? My plan? Oh! Yes, sir!" Christine did as commanded, although she wasn't exactly sure about the 3.8 centimeters as the captain worked his ladies' man magic on her.
"Almost ... almost ... Got it!" Spock exclaimed, before letting go a strangled sound from deep in his throat and collapsing forward onto the captain's back. "Jim ... "
The Captain shuddered, shaking the couch; his mouth went slack on her clit. "Spock." Christine groaned in frustration; not even happy, for the moment, that Spock had removed the mass. Spock straightened and withdrew, the glistening Tholian egg sac, now almost a decimeter across, clutched in his dripping penile tentacle. He went to get a specimen jar for the egg sac.
But as Christine rested, drained, the captain perked up. "Oh, Helen, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to ... of course I'll take care of your needs." And he started to suck her again!
Mr. Spock merely looked askance and grabbed a tricorder to scan the specimen.
Christine didn't need to push with her feet now, so she just leaned back to enjoy the show, and what a show it was! She saw sparks fly as the captain sucked her one way and the other, licked her, ate her out and did it again. Finally, "Oh my stars, *Jim*!" she came.
"Areel," Jim murmured.
Slowly Christine rose and adjusted her panties to their normal position. Then -- oh, what was she thinking? -- she grabbed the hypo of Trocodrazil and injected it into the captain's neck.
Quickly she retied his hospital gown, overlapping it securely in the back; then she moved him over to clean the stickiness from beneath him. She looked at Mr. Spock, who had finished his scan and was heading back to the pilot's seat. "Sir?"
He glanced back toward her. "Yes, Ensign?"
"Do we ever have to tell anyone, um, I mean, I wouldn't ... want Mr. Scott to get in trouble."
Spock turned and placed his hands behind his back, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Yes. I find your statement highly ... logical. We do not need to tell anyone exactly what has happened."
"Happened? What happened? Why am I like this?" the captain asked groggily. Christine hastened to remove the restraints. Spock came over and helped the captain to lie on his back.
"Jim. I'm ... gratified that you are again with us."
The captain, still appearing dazed, managed one of his sly looks at Christine. "And you, Nurse?"
She felt flustered, but managed to reply. "It's a day I'll never forget, Sir."