| ...Chekov’s face glistened with sweat, his eyes were glassy in the grey tinged face. Spock reached for a large towel someone had left draped over a pommel horse, which he wrapped it around Chekov’s shoulders, being careful not to jar his arm which the Ensign held tightly across his chest with his other arm. Probably broken, the Vulcan’s logical mind surmised, as Sulu returned to them, slightly out of breath.
“Med team’s on its way. They said not to move you until they get here.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” said Chekov, through teeth gritted against the pain and waves of nausea which crashed over him. “Oh God, I’m gonna be.....” At that, he vomited straight down the front of the Enterprise’s First Officer.
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