Leonard McCoy is almost entirely sure that this is not where he's supposed to be after the commendation ceremony. (Almost, because he's never seen Captain James Tiberius be promoted before, but he's positive that Starfleet frowns upon the sort of celebration that would lead to waking up naked and covered in snot outside some sort of pod.) The floors are pulsating and the voice in his head is not reassuring in the least-- and did it just say he'd been recruited to fight a war? Serves him right for joining a miltary operation-- but he reluctantly follows the lights.

"I need a drink." he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. Today certainly can't make any less sense than it has already.