Chapter Text
"Love is a poison. A sweet poison, yes, but a poison that kills."
George R. R. Martin
The Vulcan's graceful figure appeared as deeply calm in the Sickbay as if he were on the bridge, attending to his command duties.
"I imagine you don't think I intended to poison you."
"I know perfectly. Since I don't think our ongoing arguments were serious enough to murder me. It would have been enough if you had told me to shut up." He replied mockingly.
McCoy rolled his eyes. It hadn't been long since he had regained consciousness and he was still nauseous.
Lying on a biobed, Leonard was hooked up to multiple sensors and loaded with drugs. At that moment, he was feeling so fatigued that he hesitated between diagnosing himself as a patient fresh out of surgery or as an overworked and exhausted doctor. He decided to put aside his professionalism and define his condition as resembling that of someone who had been beaten to death by a drunken Klingon in a tavern brawl.
Jim was sitting next to his two friends. He had taken his place beside the doctor and was watching the monitors controlling Bones.
"Poison enough to finish off two Vulcans. But incapable of killing a human. It wasn't meant for me, Spock." Leonard added.
The doctor experienced more nausea, which he tried to cover up by coughing softly.
Kirk crossed his arms. He wasn't just worried. He was scared. Someone had decided to liquidate his first officer,and the collateral victim turned out to be Bones.
"That traditional Vulcan drink tasted like hell. But you had told me so many times about its medicinal goodness...."
"Indeed." Spock raised an eyebrow. "You took it out of my hand, without asking, and drank it in one gulp."
"Hey, I just wanted to fraternize with you!"
"You should have waited for me to offer you the drink. There is protocol and logical etiquette in any social gathering."
"Next time,I swear,I'll let you poison yourself!" McCoy growled,as he pointed an accusing finger at the Vulcan.
While his friends continued their usual bickering, Jim was immersed in his own thoughts,realizing what a serious security problem the ship had. What had seemed like a simple trip to take several diplomatic delegations to Babel had turned into an assassination attempt on a starship crowded with Terrans,Andorians,Tellarites and Vulcans. An elegant gala dinner had been arranged, followed by a more informal celebration in the recreation area. Traditional beverages from each planet had been served and a tasting of exquisite sweets and assorted desserts.
Christine Chapel went back to checking her boss's vitals. The doctor had already metabolized most of the poison. She had not yet recovered from the shock she had suffered, when a breathless Vulcan had carried Leonard McCoy to sickbay. Spock's quick reaction, carrying the OCM in his arms and running as if the devil was chasing him, was crucial to the swift search for the antidote. Four members of security were stationed at the Sickbay door. They had unspoken orders from the captain not to let anyone in. And to use their phasers without hesitation in case of any anomaly or problem.
During the meeting, after dinner, without anyone noticing, they had introduced the deadly poison in the Vulcan's glass. Instead of drinking the beverage quickly,he had held it in his hand for a while,while he chatted with Scotty. The Scotchman was trying to convince him, without success, of the goodness of the whisky from his native land. Spock listened politely, while a slight smile appeared on his stony face. McCoy approached the pair,stepping into the conversation and giving his (unsolicited) opinion on the qualities of bourbon served with a generous amount of ice. Scotty lunged his hand toward Spock's glass,but McCoy was quicker.
Chekov watched the scene with amusement. A grin, from ear to ear, lit up his face, as he savored the vodka he had poured himself. Everyone knew that whiskey and bourbon were invented by a little old lady from Moscow. His smile suddenly darkened as the doctor put his hand to his stomach, groaning in pain, while the glass of Spock's drink that Leonard had drunk in one quick gulp slipped through his hands and fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.