He snorts in absolute disbelief at that. Always listens, his ass. One of these days, he's going to stop offering advice (or just plain objecting to whatever half-assed plan Jim has come up with) and then they'll see where they all end up. He turns his attention to the console, though he really doesn't have much to do here besides watch Jim pilot.
"Well," and it's drawn out a bit, like he's giving an answer he's not too certain of, "I can tell you what it looks like, strictly from a pathologist's point of view." He taps the console, leans forward to give the readings he's looked over a million times one more perusal, and shrugs. "This is an energy disturbance in space, not living organism. But... if it were, I'd say it reacted almost like..." He waves his hand, a vague gesture that's likely supposed to mean something. "Like we're a... a virus in an otherwise healthy organism." Which is, admittedly, a pretty unlikely scenario and also pretty pessimistic, since the end goal of natural antibodies is to wipe out the intruding virus.
Another shrug. "But that doesn't explain why it followed us instead of the other shuttle. I still haven't found anything that would differentiate us from them." Again, though, doctor, not... whatever he needs to be to figure this out.
The thing with crazy space escapades is, sometimes it does actually take a pathologist's eye to notice a key detail. Whatever expectations Jim had of starship exploration being pure astrophysics were ground to dust within the first few months out here-- asteroids and gravity wells and wormholes, yes, but also gigantic silicone floating hearts with eyeballs, space whales, sentient viruses, and so on and so forth. Space is batshit crazy and he no longer finds it weird to be asking a medical doctor for his professional opinion about an energy anomaly.
Still,
"I think I like my puppy idea better than being targeted by a stray galactic white blood cell."
McCoy could have told him space is batshit insane from the get-go -- in fact, he's pretty sure he did, multiple times over -- but he does honestly appreciate that Jim does ask for his opinion, even if whatever they're looking at is so far out of his field he's squinting sideways at it.
Or has him squinting sideways at Jim, which is perilously close to happening right now. "I didn't say it was preferable."
"I don't know," Jim says slowly, piloting them away from the little outpost and back out into space, "sometimes when you're right about the worst-case scenario, you seem kind of smug."
Jim's definitely just giving him shit, but also-- well. Every time Bones has been right about something that Jim insisted was absolutely unquestionably Not A Big Deal, he's heard about it for weeks. Months. Years, even! There was that thing, with the rehabilitation planet and the mind control, which in Jim's opinion should have hit its expiration date ages ago.
Smug? No, it's not smug, Jim; it's pointing out that he is occasionally right when it comes to his pessimistic outlook and one should never simply dismiss it out of hand. Reminders are necessary, especially in this business.
... And, really, mind control is never something to take lightly.
"There is nothing wrong with being right." You want smug? That's a smug statement, conjuring up with all the arrogance he can summon.
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"Well," and it's drawn out a bit, like he's giving an answer he's not too certain of, "I can tell you what it looks like, strictly from a pathologist's point of view." He taps the console, leans forward to give the readings he's looked over a million times one more perusal, and shrugs. "This is an energy disturbance in space, not living organism. But... if it were, I'd say it reacted almost like..." He waves his hand, a vague gesture that's likely supposed to mean something. "Like we're a... a virus in an otherwise healthy organism." Which is, admittedly, a pretty unlikely scenario and also pretty pessimistic, since the end goal of natural antibodies is to wipe out the intruding virus.
Another shrug. "But that doesn't explain why it followed us instead of the other shuttle. I still haven't found anything that would differentiate us from them." Again, though, doctor, not... whatever he needs to be to figure this out.
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Still,
"I think I like my puppy idea better than being targeted by a stray galactic white blood cell."
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Or has him squinting sideways at Jim, which is perilously close to happening right now. "I didn't say it was preferable."
i'm alive
Jim's definitely just giving him shit, but also-- well. Every time Bones has been right about something that Jim insisted was absolutely unquestionably Not A Big Deal, he's heard about it for weeks. Months. Years, even! There was that thing, with the rehabilitation planet and the mind control, which in Jim's opinion should have hit its expiration date ages ago.
alive is good. i'm glad.
... And, really, mind control is never something to take lightly.
"There is nothing wrong with being right." You want smug? That's a smug statement, conjuring up with all the arrogance he can summon.