NEW TOS OPERATION: Spock’s Brain [G] 1/1 (S & Mc, K, C, Sc)

Title: OPERATION: Spock’s Brain

Author: Artemis (ArtemisOK@aol.com)

Series: TOS

Codes: S & Mc, K, C, Sc

Rating: [G]

Parts: 1/1

Summary:  How they got Spock to walk and why they put him in a jumpsuit.

Disclaimer: CBS-Paramount owns Star Trek. No infringement intended, no money being made.

Feedback: Will write for feedback

Beta:  No beta I ran out of time. All mistakes are my own.

Author's Note: Written for Spiced Peaches XXXVI.  Part I is taken from the TOS script.

Archiving: Artemys Aquiver, Spiced Peaches and The Spock/McCoyote’s Den

OPERATION: Spock’s Brain

The Enterprise Sickbay was thick with tension. Nurse Christine Chapel stood on the left of a bio-bed while Doctor Leonard McCoy stood on the right.

In between them, Commander Spock was  lying still as death on that particular bio-bed, with a glimmering gold bandage around his head and life-support equipment covering his torso. Beyond the shell, his legs protruded draped in a surgical green sheet.

Doctor McCoy monitored the instruments over Spock’s head. “Now.” he said.

Nurse Chapel flipped a switch on the life support unit. “Functioning.” she reported.

“Thank God.”  the doctor said fervently.

Captain Kirk and Commander Scott entered and took in the scene.

“Spock. What happened?”  Kirk demanded.

Chapel started to explain; “I found him on the table.”

“Like this?” Kirk asked.

“No, not like this.” McCoy answered.

“What happened?”

McCoy replied.  “I don't know.”

“You've got him on complete life support. Was he dead?” Jim prompted.

“He was worse than dead.”

“What do you mean?” Jim thought “as in a fate worse than death?”

“Jim.”  McCoy tried to find the words.

 “Come on, Bones. What's the mystery?”  Kirk was losing patience.

“His brain is gone.”  McCoy managed to get out.

“His what?”  Kirk was stunned.

Doctor McCoy explained.  “It's been removed surgically.”

“How could he survive?”  Good question, Jim.

“It's the greatest technical job I've ever seen. Every nerve ending in the brain must've been neatly sealed. Nothing ripped, nothing torn, no bleeding. It's a medical miracle.” McCoy smiled in spite of himself.

“If his brain is missing, then Spock is dying.” Kirk is a star ship captain, not a doctor.

“No. That incredible Vulcan physique hung on until the life-support cycle took over. His body lives. The autonomic functions continue. But there is no mind.” Inwardly, Len shuddered.

Kirk exclaimed. “That girl.” 

“Aye.” Mr. Scott agreed.

“What girl?”  McCoy wondered.

“From that ship.” Kirk explained. “She took it. I don't know why, or where, but she must have taken it. Bones, how long can you keep him functioning?”

McCoy wrung his hands in worry.  “I can't give you any guarantee.”

“That's not good enough, Doctor.” Kirk snapped.

“If it happened to any of us, I'd say indefinitely. But Vulcan physiology limits what I can do. Spock's body is more dependent on that tremendous brain for life support.”

“Then we'll take him with us.” Jim stated, like that was obvious.

“Take him? Take him where?” McCoy thought, Spock’s brain is gone and Jim’s outta his mind.

“In search of his brain, Doctor. From what you say, the moment we find it we must restore it to his body, or we lose him.”

“Jim, where are you going to look? In this whole galaxy, where are you going to look for Spock's brain? How are you going to find it?”

“I'll find it.” Quiet determination hummed in the very fiber of Kirk’s being.

“Even if you do, I can't restore it. I don't have the medical technique.”

“It was taken out. It can be put back in.”

“But I don't know how.” McCoy was emphatic.

“The thief that took it has the knowledge. I'll force it out of her.”

“If you don't find it in twenty four hours, you'd better forget the whole thing, Jim.” Len warned.

“You and Scotty have Spock ready.” The captain left, sure in the knowledge that his men could pull off this miracle.

“What the hell?!” Nurse Chapel exclaimed.

“That Chris, was a desperate man. James T. Kirk hates to loose. Up on the bridge, that bonnie lassie in the wee dress not only knocked the entire crew unconscious but took out Mr. Spock’s brain and carted him up here fer ye to find.” Scotty shook his head in disgust. “She made us look like fools.”

“It more than that Scotty.” McCoy said. “Spock is Jim’s best friend.  That femme fatale not only put out all our lights, but she  ….” Bones couldn’t finish. He just swept his hand at Spock’s supine form.  Running a hand through his hair, he wondered; “How in the hell do I get his brain back in that noggin?”

“One step at a time, Doctor. We’re working on a dead line. Jimmy expects Mr. Spock’s body mobile by the time we catch up with that lassie.”

Nurse Chapel quietly fixed a screen around them. Crew members who were injured when they were knocked unconscious began limping in. Med Tech First Class Mendoza began triage and Nurse Chapel called additional Sick Bay personnel, including Doctor Geoffrey M’Benga to Sickbay.  Chris briefed Geoff as soon as he came in. 

Behind the screen the Chief Engineer and Chief Medical Officer put their heads together, oblivious to the ebb and flow of Enterprise personnel just outside.

“Mobile? That’s a tall order, Scott. Our first order of business is to figure out how to make the overhead readouts and bio-bed portable.” McCoy concentrated on the overhead.
“I reckon I could rig a medical tri-corder could read his vitals, then we might be able to move him onto a hover-stretcher with the life support array sharing power with the stretcher.”

“Aye, that’s a good start, but a stretcher is nay vera agile, Doctor. Surely, a hover chair or wheel chair would be more compact?”

“And just how do we get all this on a  ‘chair?” Bones gestured at the mechanism spanning the bed.

“Do we really need ‘all’ of this?  If ye can take readings with yer tri-corder, then maybe the control panel can be moved into a hand-held device with it’s own power supply.”

“A remote-controlled Vulcan?” Bones chuckled briefly. “Then the actual life support could be reduced to something the size of a belt or helmet if it still shares power with the ‘chair.”

A gleam of inspiration lit Scotty’s eyes. He pulled out a stylus and started drawing on the sheet draped across Spock’s legs.  “Och, this is nay gud! I need ma Padd!”

“Here you go, sir.” A slim blond man with a sparse mustache in an Engineer’s uniform stepped through the screen.

“Thank you, Roberts.” Scott did a double take. “Mr. Roberts, what are ye doin’ here?”

“Waiting to give you, and Doctor McCoy, your Padds. And to let you know that everyone who isn’t devoted to finding the mystery lady,  is awaiting your commands.”

“Anticipating, more like.” Bones quipped.

  Chris came in bearing a tray of coffee and sandwiches. “That’s what a good scrub nurse does, Doctor. Would you like to eat these here, or would you be more comfortable in your office?”

“In my office, where my computer is? Where my desk is? And where the chairs are? What’d think Scotty, How’s about we sit down and get settled in?

Chris waved a cup of coffee under Scotty’s nose. He took a big sniff. “I reckon pur Mr. Spock is na’ going anywhere. Lead on, lassie, and I’ll follow.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to stay here and keep an eye on Mr. Spock. I think our good doctor can find the way to his own office.”

The good doctor snatched the tray from Chris and muttered a few choice words under his breath.

Two hours later, the office was strewn with cast off parts from the spare life support mechanism, a hover-chair, and two of Mr. Chekhov's’ remote-control star ships.  The back wall was covered in schematics. Their proto-type was ready. Doctor McCoy called Captain Kirk.

Kirk raced down to Sick bay to be greeted by the sight of Mendoza advancing towards him  strapped into the ‘chair with a six-inch wide bio-belt around his waist attached to a coronet of wires and blinking lights across his glossy black hair.  As Kirk advanced deeper into Sick Bay, the ‘chair retreated back to McCoy’s office.  McCoy looked up from his remote and grinned.

Kirk’s face was dark with rage. “What the hell is that!?  Spock’s life is in danger and you spent the last three hours playing R2-D2?” Kirk turned on the med tech.  “Crewman Mendoza, drop the act and stop zipping that ‘chair around.” Mendoza shrugged. “Crewman Mendoza! Come to attention when you are address by a superior officer!”

“For God’s sake, Jim. Med Tech Mendoza isn’t driving the ‘chair. I am.” Snapped Bones. “You wanted Spock to be mobile.  Well, here it the answer.” He thrust the controls into Kirk’s hands. “These buttons move the ‘chair. These buttons control the miniaturized life support system on the belt.” He pointed to the buttons as he spoke. “We made leading edge advances with trailing edge technology; anywhere else ol’ Scotty and me would be receiving Noble prizes, but all you do hand us is a load of crap.”

Jim took a breath. “Okay not bad for a couple of hours work, I guess.” he conceded. “Still why is your Med Tech sitting there instead of Spock?”

“Mendoza is Spock’s stand-in. We didn’t want to risk Spock on a proto-type. Mendoza is about the same weight and height, so we know the chair is stable with 195 pounds of Star Fleet’s finest ‘zipping’ around in it.” McCoy explained.  “The bio-belt and crown are crude, but they actually work.  Scott and Tyler working miniature miracles in minutes.”

A short brunette man in a Science uniform said: “Excuse me, Doctor. Mendoza wants out of the chair.”  Mendoza was struggling to extract himself from the bindings.

“I’m on it.” Chapel said.

For the first time, Kirk really saw Lt. Tyler. “Why are you here? You’re Science. I left Bones and Scotty in charge.”

Tyler swallowed nervously, but met his captain’s eye. “Mr. Spock is my boss -- Head of the Science Department. As it happens that scientists, physicists in particular, are good at solving this kind of problem, sir.“ He added.  “The whole crew would do anything for Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Jim smiled at Lt. Tyler. “Thank you. Carry on.”

Kirk yawned and scrubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “Now, Bones….”

McCoy put his hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “Jim, I’m gonna have a power nap. I recommend you do the same.”

“How can  you sleep at a time like this?”

“Because we’ve both been up for about 20 hours. I’m just an ol’  country doctor and I’m as tired as the proverbial ox. Tired people make mistakes, Jim.”

“I, I can’t just go to my quarters and sack out while Spock is…..” Jim shook his head.

McCoy gave a tired smile, “Then lay down here. We’ve set up a bunk room. It’s dark and quiet. A 20 minute power nap followed by a shower and a real meal - Just what the doctor ordered.”

30 minutes later, Jim and Bones eating to their steak and eggs when they heard a holler and a crash from Spock’s room.

They raced in to find Mendoza strapped into an exoskeleton comprised of carbon fiber struts with joints scavenged from a scutter. The bio-belt and coronet were woven into this bizarre body suit.

Tyler pressed a button on the key pad and poor Mendoza slammed into the wall, again.

“Watch where I’m going, idioto!” Menny exclaimed.

Tyler didn’t look up. “I’ll get it right this time.” he said and stabbed a button on the pad.

Mendoza did an abrupt about face. Too abrupt, his left leg didn’t keep up with the right and Menny collapsed, cursing to the deck. He fought the skeleton, sat up and rolled up his pant leg so he could remove his prosthetic left leg. 

The med tech looked up at McCoy. “Boss, can’t you pick on someone else for a while. please? I don’t think the bio-mechanical inputs work on an artificial limb.” He shrugged embarrassed.

McCoy ran his tricorder over Mendoza. “Son, y’all had been better off with out your prosthesis. The skeleton coulda took up the weight and let ya walk. Greg, get him outta that contraption and make sure he’s okay. Tyler, you’ll be the next volunteer.”

“But…” ’Tiny’ Tyler began.

“But nothing.” Kirk finished. “Scotty and Bones can make the adjustments and you can be the crash test dummy.” He turned to Mr. Scott. “We do have more parts?”

“Aye, sir. We can scuttle the scutters.”

“Very good, Mr. Scott.” Jim hated the scutters; sneaky little service robots scuttling around his ship, up to who knows what. “Scott, how did you create that skeleton in 30 minutes?”

“Ah, weel, sair.  The exoskeleton was plan A, ya ken. The ‘chair was plan B, being easier to patch together and having it own power pack. We knew ye’d be wanting pur Mr. Spock at be up and walking aboot….”

“Like a zombie.” Bones growled. “I hate zombies.”

“So we went ahead with both plans as they didna interfere w’ each other.” He smiled smugly.

“Very good, carry on.”  Jim left sick bay with the feeling that the impossible had been downgraded to the improbable.

Scotty sagged as the door closed. “And noo the hard part, micro circuitry for fine motor skills.”

Doctor McCoy put his hand on the engineer’s shoulder. “We’ve got that. M’Benga and I will get that done while Roberts and Tyler refine the exoskeleton. It’s got to look as natural as possible.” Scotty started to object. “Go on, rest and refuel. Greg is our Vulcan expert. Neither you nor I know how to wire this jimmy-rigged system to Spock better than he can.”

“All right.” Scotty yawned. “Wake me if ye need me.”

Now, as it happened Dr. McCoy held a patent or two in that area of  medical technology to connecting bio-mechanics to the human nervous system. Dr. M’Benga provided the Vulcan expertise. Quietly, intently, the medical team plowed ahead setting up the transceivers and receivers while the Engineering/Science team refined the exoskeleton down to what was essentially a body suit. The coronet of wires compressed into an open sided helmet.  They were ready to connect their masterpiece to their Executive Officer.

Nurse Chapel just finished setting up the last camera as they rolled Mr. Spock into the operating bay.  As Doctor McCoy had said earlier not only was this an historic moment for medicine, engineering and the Enterprise, but when, when they got ol’ Spock’s brain back where it belonged, they would have to remove all the hardware and would need the video for reference. 

Doctor McCoy started with subcutaneous processors that would allow Spock (or his operator) to use his hands.  Jim had not asked for this, but it was implied.  Then Scotty and Bones slipped the body into its body suit and carefully placed the helmet. One-by-one life support functions were transferred from the console to the helmet.  There was an anxious moment went the heart rate was too slow, but a quick adjustment from “Mendoza” normal to “Spock” normal set that straight.

“One last connection,” Bones rasped.

With a click that wasn’t so much heard as felt, Spock’s full life support and functions were now transferred on the devices his friends began only 16 hours ago.  They held their collective breaths as they watched  him breath. Their eyes flickered from his prostrate form to the tell-tales. 

“Alive, alive!” Wild-eyed and bordering on the hysterical Leonard clasped his hands. “He Is Alive!” The good doctor snatched up the control pad. “Rise, rise my friend.” The brainless body rose to a sitting position on operating table. “Now, walk” A quick manipulation of the buttons and the vacant Vulcan took a few steps. Everyone cheered.

“One last test.” Bones whispered, almost a prayer. Tap, tap, tap - Spock’s arm rose and he/it grasped a beaker and held it out to Mr. Scott.

Scott took the beaker from his/its hand.  He sniffed the contents and smiled. “To your health.” He toasted Mr. Spock and knocked back a wee dram.

Later, Leonard sat alone with Spock’s empty shell, waiting to arrive at their goal. He spoke aloud to Spock.

“Here goes nothing.” Len laid his hand against Spock’s cheek. “Spock, I know you’re a touch telepath. I hope that even though your mind and body are light years apart, you know what we’re doing and that we’re coming for you.” Shyly, Len shifted his fingers to the Vulcan’s psy points. “Is there anything you want?”

//Dignity//  McCoy wasn’t sure if he heard or imagined the answer. “Okay, so no Chicken Dance.”  He grinned at the thought, though. He looked down the prostrate form on the bed clad only in the ‘suit and helmet. “Ol’ buddy, you’re sure not dressed to impress. Let’s see what we can do, huh?”

Bones crossed to the repli-mat station and requisitioned off duty wear in Spock’s size.  //Boots and a jump suit, humph. Well that outta ‘bout cover the situation.//

Dressing the body was not as simple as Len thought it would be. He got it to stand and step in to boxers with only a wobble while lifting his feet. Socks were a snap, but the turtle-neck shirt stymied him. He was cussing and fussing when Nurse Chapel walked in.

“Need some help?” she asked.

“Bah, How do I get this shirt over that helmet?”  He held up the shirt.

Chris smothered a smile. “Why do you want to put Spock in a turtle neck?”

Bones gestured to the back of his own neck. “To hide the, the…”

“I get it.” She nodded. After a moment’s thought. “I’ll cut the shirt open enough to get it over his head and then sew him in it.”

“Spock won’t like that.”

“He can tell me himself.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’ll be right back.” Christine returned with a sewing kit from the depths of her locker.  In a few minutes, she had it wide enough to get safely on over the artificial brain.  Together doctor and nurse carefully put in on the shell of their crew mate.

‘Whew, and now the jumpsuit.”  McCoy picked it up and turned it around. “Now, how in tarnation….?”  Chris raised an eyebrow. “Spock couldn’t beam down in his jammys, and he’s not on duty, so I asked for civvies in his size.  This is what I got. It seemed alright in theory.”

“They will cover the exo-suit. The captain will be happy. Can he stand?”

“Yeah,” McCoy gestured to the boxers. “I didn’t diaper’em.”  With Chris’ help it wasn’t too hard to get Spock to step into the jump suit and then they pulled it up.  The boots should have been easy, but there was no button for “point your toes” One person manipulated the foot while the other shoved the boot on. 

“All done and now we dance!” Chris said with a cheery smile, spreading her arms wide.

“There’s no button for that.”  Bones rumbled.

“Sure there is - hold down red while pressing blue, blue. And vìola, the Chicken Dance!”

“Nurse Chapel, really!” the good doctor was aghast. //I promised no Chicken Dance.//

“No, sir, nor really. That combination enables him to climb stairs.  Hold blue, red, red to descend - but he’ll need someone to steady him.” 

“Good thinking.” Len smiled and gave Chris a brief hug.  “We did it.  Let’s get back to bed and hooked up to the nutrition supplements.  Iffen I knows Jim Kirk, Robo-Spock is gonna need all the extra energy he can get.”

FIN