“Now that can’t be right...” Leonard growled to himself, looking at the
readout on his board.
His eyes drifted to the man currently being treated in his sickbay, a nurse
dutifully and carefully removing the man’s beard at present as he was
stable, letting the machines work on cleaning and sanitizing him an inch at
a time with as much dignity as was possible. He couldn’t see well from the
angle, but was it... no, couldn’t possibly be. Still he looked down at the
board again, and there was no mistaking it. A near perfect match for one
James Tiberius Kirk.
But his captain was standing on the other side of the medical glass of the
isolation room, and even if this person had some DNA similarities it would
only be on a familial level. Not a 99% DNA match. Impossible. Not even
shapeshifters could manage that. Frowning, he walked back closer to the
man, peering down - gasping as he looked down at the freckled, sleeping
face of his captain.
“It’s him, isn’t it? But...” the nurse looked at Bones, biting her lip.
“Have you noticed anything else?” He asked briskly, tapping the input for
the machine to do another blood draw.
“Tattoos,” the nurse said, pulling back a sheet to display a series of
numbers on the inside of the man’s forearm, and a much larger, more
familiar set running down his left rib cage. NCC-1704. The Enterprise’s
call number. It even had the Star Fleet symbol in its center. A quick
reference showed the numbers on his forearm were the universal coordinates
for Earth.
Bones rubbed his face. “Damn it, Jim, what have you brought me this time?”
He muttered before addressed the nurse. “Continue with your tasks and once
the machines have finished theirs let him sleep. God knows the man needs
it. We can look more into this when he’s properly awake and not delirious.”
Leaving the nurse to her tasks, he turned and marched out of the ward - and
right over to Jim. His board beeped as he did, and he felt like the
embodiment of the adage about insanity, resisting the urge to run the test
again.
“We’ve got a name on our mystery man,” Leonard declared, shoving the board
at Jim, glowing with a particular Star Fleet records.
NAME: KIRK, JAMES TIBERIUS
“Really, Jim, this is a long way to go to avoid a physical.”
Not that he believed that, not from the crease of his brow and the concern
on his face. Because what the hell were they going to do?
no subject
“Now that can’t be right...” Leonard growled to himself, looking at the readout on his board.
His eyes drifted to the man currently being treated in his sickbay, a nurse dutifully and carefully removing the man’s beard at present as he was stable, letting the machines work on cleaning and sanitizing him an inch at a time with as much dignity as was possible. He couldn’t see well from the angle, but was it... no, couldn’t possibly be. Still he looked down at the board again, and there was no mistaking it. A near perfect match for one James Tiberius Kirk.
But his captain was standing on the other side of the medical glass of the isolation room, and even if this person had some DNA similarities it would only be on a familial level. Not a 99% DNA match. Impossible. Not even shapeshifters could manage that. Frowning, he walked back closer to the man, peering down - gasping as he looked down at the freckled, sleeping face of his captain.
“It’s him, isn’t it? But...” the nurse looked at Bones, biting her lip.
“Have you noticed anything else?” He asked briskly, tapping the input for the machine to do another blood draw.
“Tattoos,” the nurse said, pulling back a sheet to display a series of numbers on the inside of the man’s forearm, and a much larger, more familiar set running down his left rib cage. NCC-1704. The Enterprise’s call number. It even had the Star Fleet symbol in its center. A quick reference showed the numbers on his forearm were the universal coordinates for Earth.
Bones rubbed his face. “Damn it, Jim, what have you brought me this time?” He muttered before addressed the nurse. “Continue with your tasks and once the machines have finished theirs let him sleep. God knows the man needs it. We can look more into this when he’s properly awake and not delirious.”
Leaving the nurse to her tasks, he turned and marched out of the ward - and right over to Jim. His board beeped as he did, and he felt like the embodiment of the adage about insanity, resisting the urge to run the test again.
“We’ve got a name on our mystery man,” Leonard declared, shoving the board at Jim, glowing with a particular Star Fleet records.
NAME: KIRK, JAMES TIBERIUS
“Really, Jim, this is a long way to go to avoid a physical.”
Not that he believed that, not from the crease of his brow and the concern on his face. Because what the hell were they going to do?