Chapter Text
Captain’s Log, stardate seventeen-oh-four point two. We are en route to the planet Psi 2000 to bring crucial research equipment to the science vessel Antares. A detour around a black hole has delayed our arrival.
Dr. McCoy sat at his desk. He was rifling through the various, unhelpful notes associated with Mr. Spock’s sparse medical files when Captain Kirk came sauntering in. McCoy glanced up at him and then did a double take. Jim was sporting a split lip and bloody nose. Despite that he was grinning broadly.
“What happened to you?” McCoy asked, taking a handkerchief from his desk drawer. Jim took it gratefully and swiped at the blood under his nose.
“I took your advice,” he said.
McCoy raised one incredulous eyebrow. Laughter danced in the captain’s bright hazel eyes and he ducked into the other room before McCoy could open his mouth, clearly expecting the doctor to follow. He heaved a sigh and pushed himself out of his chair. The files on his padd would have to wait until later.
Jim was perched on the edge of a biobed in the other room lazily swinging his feet. There was an air of boyish charm about him. McCoy wondered just what exactly had him in such a good mood. He crossed his arms and leaned one hip against the biobed. Jim stopped pretending to study the softly pulsing diagnostics screen and glanced at him sideways through dark lashes.
“Well, Doc, think you might fix me up?” he asked.
“I dunno, Jim, think you might tell me what happened?”
“I caught the wrong end of Mr. Sulu’s elbow.”
McCoy shook his head. So, that was it. He pushed off of the biobed and crossed to the medical repository. Choosing one of the higher compartments he lightly pressed its smooth outer panel and felt the satisfying click and release of the inner catch.
“When I said you should spar with Sulu this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”
Dermal regenerator and antiseptic spray in hand, he returned to the captain.
“You were right though. It’s helping.” There was an earnest eagerness to Kirk’s words.
“You or him?” McCoy asked wryly.
“Why can’t it be both?”
McCoy harrumphed. “Does this mean you plan on getting your ass kicked on a regular basis? Because I’m going to need more supplies.”
Kirk laughed. “You can grouch all you like, but I know you. You’re secretly pleased it’s all working out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” McCoy said innocently.
Truthfully, he was more than a little glad that Sulu had agreed to spar with the captain. The helmsman had been simmering for days now, reluctant to take up sparring again since his friend’s death. His pain followed him like a dark cloud and being able to vent it with someone who knew how to roll with the punches was a healthier alternative to bottling it up and letting it fester.
“And even if I did,” McCoy continued. “I’d warn you not to get carried away. You’re the captain not a heavy weight champion. Despite that masochistic need of yours to prove you’ve still got it.”
Kirk flashed him a devilish grin. The doctor shook his head. He knew Jim was just trying to get a rise out of him. The captain would never do anything careless where his crew was concerned. He just wasn’t that kind of man. If he were, McCoy would’ve never suggested sparring with the grieving helmsman in the first place.
“What about you, Bones?”
“I don’t need to prove that I’ve still got it. I never had it to begin with,” McCoy retorted.
He finished with the captain’s face and went to put his instruments away. Kirk hopped down and followed him across the room.
“I meant how are you holding up.”
McCoy froze, half turned away from Jim. He subconsciously reached for the soft black fabric at the neck of his uniform and the sprig of Borgia that lay hidden there—pinned to his collar just that morning. His fingers brushed its outline and he could feel the flowers’ delicate petals as they pressed against the curve of his throat. Its fragrance was a painful reminder—both bitter and comforting—in its sharpness.
He felt Jim’s light touch on his arm. McCoy cleared his throat and dropped his hand. He was grateful when Jim didn’t press him further. There was a world of unspoken understanding in that warm hand on his sleeve. McCoy cleared his throat again. When he spoke his tone was gruffer than he’d intended.
“You’ll have to excuse me, Jim, I’m expecting a call from Dr. M’Benga.”
“And they’ll be expecting me on the bridge.” Jim squeezed McCoy’s arm gently and then let go. “Alright, Bones.”
As McCoy left the captain and walked into his office he could feel Jim’s gaze lingering on his back. Then the door slid shut and he sagged gratefully into his chair. Leaning his head back he stared at the glass doors on his cabinets and waited for Dr. Jabilo M’Benga to call.
The doctor had agreed to talk to McCoy about his time working in a Vulcan ward. M’Benga’s information might not be anything McCoy didn’t already know but simply having the other doctor to confirm or dismiss his theories—not to mention being able to pick M’Benga’s brain on best practices—would be extremely useful going into this upcoming examination.
It was the first officer’s quarterly physical and McCoy’s first real medical exam with a Vulcan. Sure, he’d had practice in theory back in med school, but theory and practice were about as far removed from each other as he was from Mr. Spock. The truth was, there just wasn’t a whole lot known about Vulcans in general or Mr. Spock in particular due in part to his unique heritage and in part to the fact that he was the first Vulcan to ever serve with Starfleet. But McCoy was going to do everything he could to assess the first officer’s medical needs in spite of Mr. Spock’s attempts to keep him at arm's length. Vulcans were ridiculously private and had many idiosyncrasies when it came to their care preferences especially when a non-Vulcan doctor was involved. Establishing a repertoire of trust with the patient was a vital first step in the process and McCoy was determined to do just that.
— —
The bosun whistle sounded announcing the captain’s presence on the bridge. Lt. Janice Rand resisted glancing up at him from her seat at the helm. She could sense him taking up his place just behind her right shoulder. He radiated a certain bold intensity. The crew always seemed to move a little faster, stand a little straighter, work a little harder in the captain’s magnetic presence. Or maybe that was just Janice.
“Approaching asteroid belt now, Captain. Schiller rating three-five,” First Officer Spock reported.
“Deflectors on. Let’s skirt the edge, Lieutenant. Stay well away from it,” Kirk told Rand.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
At the center of that asteroid belt was a black hole. It had been a massive, blue star up until just recently when it’d gone supernova and taken its entire solar system of dwarf planets with it. The Enterprise was skirting the remains of that system now.
“Captain, this would be a most uniquely gratifying cosmological phenomena to study further.”
“If we had the time, Mr. Spock, I’d let you study it to your heart’s content.”
“It is rather unfortunate that we must give up one scientific study in favor of another.”
“Why, Spock, is that a note of disappointment I hear?”
“Hardly, Captain. I’m merely observing the regrettable nature of our limited time in this vicinity.”
“You’ll just have to make do with what your sensors can pick up as we go.”
Janice exchanged an amused glance with Lt. Kevin Riley. A shift on bridge crew didn’t feel the same if there wasn’t at least a little banter between the captain and his first officer. And on the occasions that Dr. McCoy made an appearance then they really were in for a show. Sulu had a tally going. According to him the Vulcan was winning but Janice privately thought the doctor more than held his own against the first officer’s piercing intellect.
A flashing light on the instrument panel caught her attention.
“Sir, there’s a rapidly approaching spacecraft off the starboard bow,” she said quickly.
“Onscreen,” Kirk commanded.
“There she is, sir. Center screen,” Rand said, switching the channel feed.
A small cargo ship careened into view. It spiraled by in an unstable corkscrew.
Janice felt a spike of alarm. “She’s headed straight for the asteroid field.”
“If she hits one of them—” Kevin said. The expression in his glance mirrored Rand’s.
“Get our tractor beam on her now, Riley,” came the sharp command. “Communications?”
“I’m trying all frequencies, sir. There’s no answer,” Lt. Uhura told the captain.
“We get no registration beam from the ship,” Mr. Spock added.
Janice watched as the craft’s spasming trajectory stilled under the pull of the Enterprise’s tractor beam. The chaotic spiral became a slow spin but the vessel’s engines still strained against the power of the much larger starship.
“She’ll overload her engines,” Scotty exclaimed, distress plainly written on his face.
“Try to warn her, Uhura. She’s got to get out of there.”
“She’s had it unless we put our deflector screen around her,” Riley said.
Despite being tethered by the tractor beam, the small craft wobbled drunkenly at the outermost edge of the asteroid belt. There was a sharp intake of breath on the bridge as a larger chunk of rock clipped her wing and nearly sent her spinning again.
“Cover her, Lieutenant,” Kirk ordered.
“Captain, we’ll overload our own engines,” Mr. Scott protested. “We can’t extend our deflector screen and maintain the tractor beam with the way she’s straining against us.”
Kirk flashed his chief engineer a look. “And she’ll be crushed by an asteroid if we don’t. Extend our screen, Mr. Riley.”
“Yes, sir. We won’t be able to hold it long.”
“Uhura,” the captain said.
“Trying, sir. Still no response.”
“We’re overloading, Captain. Engine temperatures climbing.”
“Don’t lose her, Rand. Take us in as close as you can.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Our deflector screen’s weakening. We can’t protect her much longer,” Riley called out.
The Enterprise groaned under the strain, but she obeyed the helmswoman and let Janice guide her into the very edge of the asteroid field. The other craft was slowly reeled in like a fish struggling at the end of a line.
“Engine temperature is passing the danger line,” Scotty warned.
Overhead the lights flickered on the bridge.
“Steady,” Kirk instructed.
“Sir!” Scotty urged.
The Enterprise shuddered beneath Janice’s hands. Hang in there girl, she willed the starship desperately, you’re almost there.
The other vessel gave one final, desperate lurch. There was a flash of white light just aft of her starboard wing and then she went completely limp in the Enterprise’s grasp.
“Get that ship aboard, now,” the captain ordered. “As soon as we have her, get us out of here, Rand.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Uhura, I want Dr. McCoy in the shuttle bay. Mr. Scott, you too. Let’s see what the damage is.”
The engineer gave Kirk a rueful look. “Aye, sir.”
— —
Dr. McCoy looked down into the familiar face of the cargo ship’s pilot. She was a petite woman with curvy hips and what would have been a commanding stance if she hadn’t been swaying so much. The young woman clutched at her side. A slash of red at her hairline matted her bangs together with blood. When the small cargo ship was brought aboard the Enterprise this was the last person he’d been expecting to find.
She looked up at him with unfocused eyes. A spark of recognition kindled in them.
“Hiya, Doc, long time no see.”
Then the young woman, who not that long ago had tried to kill him—twice—collapsed at his feet. He caught her elbow as she went down and just managed to keep her from cracking her skull against the deck.
Scotty, who had dashed up the gangway to poke his head inside the craft, withdrew it and came to hover beside McCoy.
“There’s another one inside. She’s bleeding badly.”
McCoy nodded his acknowledgment and turned to shout for Nurse Chapel. She was at his elbow before he opened his mouth.
“Check for signs of concussion and I want scans for internal bleeding.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Lieutenant Tormolen, you’re with me,” he said, motioning to an officer in blue. McCoy surged to his feet but a voice stopped him halfway up the ship’s ramp.
“Bones.”
He hadn’t been aware of the captain’s approach. Kirk’s face was carefully neutral but his eyes held a storm of emotions. He stared down at the unconscious pilot.
“She’s not going anywhere,” McCoy told him. “And she needs medical attention.”
He met the captain’s gaze levelly. He needed Jim to understand that no matter what this woman had done, or would do, McCoy was still a doctor. His friend knew him well enough to recognize that look. Kirk gave a small nod and McCoy was able to relax slightly. That was one less thing he had to worry about. He left the captain issuing orders and strode into the darkened interior of the cargo ship.
McCoy found the other passenger in the cockpit. She was barely conscious and breathing raggedly. A safety harness lashed her to the passenger seat. McCoy squeezed in beside her as best he could, but the cockpit was barely big enough for two and the space was made even smaller by the jagged mess of metal and wires dangling from the starboard bulkhead. Despite that, he needed to move quickly. There was a deep gash in the woman’s abdomen that was bleeding profusely, but the more concerning wound was a jagged slash at her throat. He could see the twisted piece of metal that had caused it.
A shadow appeared in the doorway.
“Tormolen, help me,” McCoy ordered.
He scrambled into the cockpit and McCoy was grateful that the other man had a slim build. Scotty appeared just over Tormolen’s shoulder, watching anxiously and waiting to see if he could help.
“Put pressure on that wound,” McCoy instructed the lieutenant.
The young man didn’t hesitate despite the look of horror in his wide brown eyes. He pressed his hands firmly over the wound on the woman’s stomach. She groaned softly.
“Don’t ease up. Try to keep an even pressure,” McCoy warned Tormolen. He turned to the woman and spoke softly. “Hold still. You’ll be alright. I’m just going to take a look here.”
He peeled back the fabric of her collar as gently as he could. The fragment of metal was embedded firmly in the woman’s neck. Her breathing was becoming more rapid. She suddenly gripped his shoulder and her eyes flew open to stare sightlessly into his own. Her mouth opened and closed but the only sound was a sickly rasping at the back of her throat.
“None of that now, you mustn’t talk,” he told her firmly. “Scotty, I need something to cut—“
“Here.” The Scotsman passed him a sleek instrument slightly smaller than a pen. “It’s on the wee side for a laser cutter, but it’ll do the trick in a pinch.” When he noticed McCoy’s look of surprise he offered, “It comes in handy a whole lot more than you’d think. I never go without, but I’ll see if I can’t find something a mite bigger.” And with that, the engineer darted off.
McCoy adjusted his grip on the instrument so that he was holding it like a stylus. With his other hand he kept the woman's head gently in place. Working quickly, he began to slice through the metal shard. The laser bit into the metal easily, but the woman was attempting to speak again and it pulled at her wound. McCoy spoke soothingly but she refused to be placated.
“A…Ant…ares,” she managed to rasp. “Dan…ger.”
“It’s alright, we’ll help the Antares.” He was through the metal and moving on to the straps of the harness. “How we doing, Joe?”
Tormolen’s face was very pale. “Yes, sir. I mean, good, sir.”
“Ma— ma,” the woman rasped weakly. Her breath was coming in quick sharp gasps. “Roo.”
“I’ve got you,” McCoy assured her. Her grip on his shoulder slackened. “Stay with me. Stay with me.” Her eyes rolled back into her head. It lolled to one side as she lost consciousness and went limp as a rag doll against the harness. McCoy could’ve sworn under his breath if he’d had the time. “She’s going into hypovolemic shock. We need to get her out now.”
“Make way, Lieutenant,” Kirk ordered.
Then Tormolen was gone and the captain was taking his place at McCoy’s elbow. McCoy struggled with the harness for a moment. It fell away and Kirk was there, wrapping the woman in his strong arms and carrying her out of the ship and down the gangway. McCoy was right on his heels.
“Lay her there, Jim,” he ordered. They didn’t have time to fuss about, he needed to stop the bleeding. “Tormolen, pressure. Jim, hold her steady.”
McCoy set to work on his patient. Closing wounds in the middle of the shuttle bay surrounded by curious engineers wasn’t ideal but he’d handled worse situations. Mr. Scott returned from somewhere carrying a larger piece of laser-cutting equipment over his shoulder.
“Right you lot. Quit your gawking and get back to work,” Scotty ordered.
The captain, who had been studying the woman’s clothing, soaked in her blood as it was, suddenly spoke. “This is a Federation research vessel uniform.”
“She did say something about the Antares,” McCoy told him.
“Will she make it?” Kirk asked quietly.
“I dunno, Jim. I can’t know for sure until we can get some fluid back into her. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
McCoy finished with the dermal regenerator and sat back on his heels. The shard of metal would require a more delicate touch. He’d stabilized it as best he could so that it didn’t cause any more damage during transport, but he wanted it out as soon as they got her back to the medbay. Two officers were standing by with a gurney. McCoy motioned to them.
“Let’s get her to Sickbay.” He looked at the two men beside him. The front of Kirk’s uniform was soaked in blood and Joe’s hands were much the same. “You boys come too. Best we get you cleaned up.”
McCoy stretched as he stood. His back was beginning to ache but this day was far from over.
— —
They had extracted themselves from the asteroid belt and had been well on their way to Psi 2000 for the past 1.25 hours when Mr. Scott called for him on the intercom. Spock answered from the captain’s chair.
“Scott here. We’re having a bit of trouble. Nothing I can’t handle, mind, but our tussle with that cargo ship severely taxed the Enterprise’s engines. I’m running a systems check, but we really oughta drop her down to impulse power for the time being.”
“Very well, Mr. Scott, we shall make the necessary adjustments. Do you have an estimated time of completion?”
“I can’t rightly say just yet, sir. But I’ll give you a shout as soon as I do. Scotty out.”
Spock steepled his long fingers. Dropping to impulse power would significantly delay their arrival at Psi 2000 and the Antares. He swiveled slightly toward communications.
“Lieutenant Uhura, are there any updates?”
“I still haven’t been able to hail the Antares, sir. Something is interfering with the signal.”
“Something, Lieutenant?”
She straightened and faced him. “I should be able to raise them, but all I’m receiving is static.”
“Sir,” Lt. Brent interjected. The science officer currently occupied Spock’s usual post and was examining multiple readings of the immediate area. “There is residual evidence of an ionic storm. It’s possible that’s what’s interfering with Ms. Uhura’s comms.”
“Are you able to compensate?” Spock asked her.
“I’ll have the long and short of it within the hour, sir.” She noticed the way his eyebrow shot up and her mouth quirked in suppressed amusement. “I mean, yes, sir.”
The doors to the lift slid open and Mr. Sulu stepped onto the bridge. Lt. Rand glanced up at him with a light frown. Spock knew she wasn’t scheduled to be relieved for another 5.2 hours. Mr. Sulu’s presence on the bridge was unexpected but the purpose quickly became clear.
”Commander, the captain wants you to meet him in Sickbay.”
“Acknowledged, Mr. Sulu. You have the conn.”
On his way to the medbay Spock passed Officer Tormolen in the hall. Tormolen’s hair was damp and his hands and face were scrubbed pink. It appeared as though he had been heading somewhere and then stopped still. The distant look on the officer’s face spoke of a wandering mind. Spock paused beside him.
“Officer,” he spoke calmly.
Tormolen started. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you there.”
Spock considered him. “Do you require assistance?”
The other man ducked his head in what Spock had learned to interpret as human embarrassment. “No, sir. I was just thinking, sir.” Tormolen paused, as if torn between saying more or staying silent.
Spock waited him out. Humans found silence uncomfortable and he’d discovered that he often ended up with more information if he simply let the silence stretch on as opposed to filling it with questions.
“Those women. They would have died if we hadn’t been there. I keep wondering, what if something like that happened to us? Some terrible accident that left us crippled and alone, slowly dying in space and no one around to do anything about it. Are we even meant to be out here—?”
“Lieutenant,” Spock quietly interrupted the officer’s diatribe. “I think it would be beneficial if you were to take some time away from your duties until you have had the opportunity for adequate rest. Perhaps, if this line of thought still occupies your mind at the end of that interval, a conversation with Dr. McCoy would be in order.”
“Yes, sir.” The science officer’s brow knit together and his mouth formed a tight line. He turned to go, but halted when the first officer spoke again.
“Mr. Tormolen. The probability that an accident of the kind you described would occur is very low. 0.023 to be exact.”
His warm brown glance hesitantly met Spock’s dark one. “Thank you, sir.”
Spock inclined his head slightly and watched the young man walk away before he finally turned and entered the medbay. He was forced to pause as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Odd. Focusing on his breathing, he was able to settle the sudden spinning sensation. It was a strange occurrence that he would have to examine more thoroughly at a later date. For now, he turned his attention to Dr. McCoy who was bending over a patient. Spock stiffened almost imperceptibly when the doctor straightened and revealed who it was.
“Doctor, I do not think that is wise.”
“And what’s that, Mr. Spock?” The doctor turned tired blue eyes on him.
“Your proximity to a known assailant.”
McCoy looked down at the young woman who had been masquerading under a false identity the first time they’d encountered her. The doctor’s mouth quirked in a wry smile.
“Oh, she’s not going anywhere.”
Spock felt a flash of annoyance at Dr. McCoy’s apparent lack of concern. It brought with it the decidedly illogical impulse to put himself between the doctor and the woman, despite the fact that she was unconscious. Given the doctor’s almost non-existent inclination toward self-preservation, and the woman’s previous lethal designs on him, perhaps the impulse wasn’t so illogical after all.
“Regardless, I do not believe you are exercising an appropriate level of caution. Need I remind you—“
Dr. McCoy’s voice grew sharp. “I remember what she did, Mr. Spock, and I certainly know what she’s capable of, but this woman has a concussion and I am going to treat her just like anyone else. Or did you come in here to tell me how to do my job, too?” The doctor exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
Before Spock could argue the point further, Captain Kirk entered the room.
“I thought that was you, Spock,” Kirk greeted him.
Spock acknowledged him with a nod. “Captain.”
“Have you learned anything?”
“She wasn’t exactly coherent,” Dr. McCoy said. “I gave her a sedative to sleep it off.“
“Bones.” The captain’s tone was reproachful.
“We weren’t going to learn anything from her in that state of mind, Jim.”
Kirk didn’t look happy about it. “I thought it was dangerous to let a person with a concussion fall asleep.”
“Where’d you hear a fool thing like that?” McCoy snipped. The doctor, as if realizing he’d been too harsh, rocked on his heels and spoke more evenly. “Sorry, Jim.”
“No, no. You’re the doctor, I shouldn’t be telling you how to do your job.”
Spock didn’t miss the pointed glance Dr. McCoy threw his way. He ignored it. The soft sound of footsteps heralded Nurse Chapel’s approach.
“Doctor, she’s awake.”
“Speaking of doing my job,” McCoy said. “Thank you, Nurse.” He paused in the doorway to the surgery wing of Sickbay. “Jim, I know you’re eager to get some answers. I am too, but just gimme a minute to see where she’s at.”
Kirk accepted the doctor’s words with a small nod and Dr. McCoy continued on without them. Spock watched as the doctor sat at the edge of the woman’s biobed and spoke to her in low tones. She nodded and took the padd he offered her. He looked over to where they stood and inclined his head for them to join him. He remained seated on the edge of the bed as they approached and the captain took up a spot opposite him. Spock hung back slightly, unwilling to overcrowd the woman’s space.
The captain spoke to her. “I’m Captain James Kirk of the starship Enterprise. Can you tell us your name?”
She typed for a moment on the padd and then an artificial voice spoke for her. Commander Amy Percy of the science vessel Antares.
“Do you remember what happened?” Kirk asked.
Commander Percy typed on the padd, approximately 19 seconds longer this time.
Ion storm. We never saw it coming. Forced to abandon ship. I was attacked on the planet. A woman in a cargo ship helped me get away. She saved my life, is she alright?
“She’s recovering in the other room. She’ll be alright,” Dr. McCoy told her. “Do you know her name?” The commander shook her head. “I suppose that was too much to hope for,” the doctor muttered in an aside to Kirk.
“Psi 2000 is an uninhabited planet.” Spock broke in.
“Yes, so who or what attacked you?” Kirk asked.
Unclear. It was dark, but I counted four or five of them. They seemed to be humanoid. I wasn’t on the planet very long. She began typing again. Captain, my team is marooned on that planet.
“And we will do everything in our power to get them back as soon as we can. I give you my word, Commander.”
“For now, you just concentrate on getting better,” McCoy told her.
Thank you, Doctor. If there is any way I can help.
Dr. McCoy patted her knee. “We’ll be sure and let you know. But what you need right now is some rest.” He motioned with his head toward the door. “Jim.”
They left Commander Percy, who was asleep again almost before they were gone, and reconvened in Dr. McCoy’s office. Dr. McCoy leaned against his desk, slouching ever so slightly which Spock was beginning to recognize as a sign that he was especially tired.
“Is it possible we were wrong and the planet does have a native population?” Dr. McCoy asked Spock.
“The Antares’ observations over the past three years have not revealed evidence of intelligent life-forms, humanoid or otherwise, so while not altogether impossible, it is highly unlikely that they do exist.”
“So what attacked her?” Dr. McCoy asked.
“It is difficult to say for certain at this point due to our limited information,” Spock pointed out.
“Our pilot friend in the other room might have some ideas,” Kirk said dryly. “I want to know the minute she wakes up.”
“Captain, I believe a thorough search of the computer’s databanks on the subject may give us a more comprehensive picture of the planet in the meantime.”
“Good idea—“
Dr. McCoy stood swiftly. “Not before you and I get through with your physical, Mr. Spock.”
Spock hesitated. His physical exam was not high on his list of priorities but putting it off again—he had already put it off twice in the past week—here in front of the captain was out of the question. He briefly wondered if that had been Dr. McCoy’s intention.
“Very well, Doctor.”
— —
Janice Rand carried an undercurrent of energy with her all the way to Rec Room 3. After this most recent shift she was positively buzzing. Usually, all the interesting things happened to Lt. Sulu, but with his reduced hours she’d been getting more coverage. She could not believe she’d actually gotten to fly into an asteroid belt and save another vessel! What’s more, the captain had noticed and complimented her nimble maneuvering of the Enterprise. She was glowing.
She spotted her brother Eddie and his girlfriend Tina sitting at a booth nearby and slid into the vinyl enclosure to join them.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Eddie asked, sliding her the coffee he’d been saving.
Tina leaned forward eagerly. “Has the captain finally taken notice of you?”
Janice nearly choked on her first sip and waved at her to keep her voice down. She’d mentioned she found Kirk attractive once and now Tina wouldn’t let her live it down. Eddie patted her on the back. She coughed a few more times and finally managed to catch her breath. She gave Tina a fierce glare, but the Yeoman's impish expression brought forth another fit of coughing as Rand tried to cover the spark of laughter that ignited in her own chest. She was in too good a mood to pretend to be bothered.
“No, as a matter of fact. He complimented my flying.”
“Oo, so he did notice you.”
“That’s not the point,” Janice protested. She turned to her brother for support. “Eddie, tell her.”
“What’s not the point?”
The question came from Joe Tormolen who had approached the table unnoticed. He was Eddie’s best friend and had been since they were young. He’d also had something of a crush on Janice for as long as she’d known him, but he’d never done anything about it in all that time. Not that she minded. He was a sweet guy, but she’d never been interested in him in that way.
“Oh. I was just about to tell these two chuckleheads that we rescued a ship from an asteroid belt today and the captain was very impressed with my flying.”
“I’m sure that’s not the only thing he was impressed with,” Tina mumbled into her hand.
Janice turned and playfully swatted at her. “Tina, I swear, if you don’t drop it—“
“Oh, what. Are you going to report me—?” her friend shot back.
They were interrupted by a very earnest Joe. “Of course he was impressed, you’re an amazing pilot.”
The silence that followed stretched on as Janice tried to make her brain think of an appropriate response. Her first instinct consisted of playful ribbing and banter, but that seemed at odds with Joe’s heartfelt compliment.
“Thanks, Joey,” was all she could think to say. She suddenly felt awkward and rose to leave. “Well, I’m due back on the bridge.”
“What?” Tina protested. “But you just got here!”
“You picked up another shift?” Eddie asked, disapprovingly.
Janice shrugged. “What can I say? I like it up there.”
Tina rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
“I like the challenge, Tina. It’s interesting.”
“Keep telling yourself that, hun.”
“It’s more interesting than hanging around you lot and yakking my head off. Don’t you have something better to do?” she asked Eddie. “I’m surprised you’re not running around after Kirk.”
“Oh, so it’s Kirk now,” Tina commented just loud enough for her to hear. Janice pointedly ignored her.
“Contrary to popular belief he does give his personal Yeoman a break. And unlike some, I know how to kick my feet up during my downtime. It’s called a work life balance. You should look it up, you might learn a thing or two,” Eddie told her. He turned to his friend who had been sitting quietly. “Joe, back me up here. Tell my sister she should learn to relax.”
“I think Janice is perfectly capable of knowing what she wants,” Joe said, meeting her gaze.
“Thanks, Joe. It’s nice to know at least one of my friends will come to my defense. Well, I’m off,” she told them with a wave. Tina wiggled her fingers in response but her brother had cornered his friend.
“What gives? You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Janice shot Joe an apologetic look as she turned and left.
— —
McCoy released the medical cuff from its spot just above the first officer’s elbow and notated Spock’s blood pressure on his padd. The Vulcan sat stiffly on McCoy’s examination table dressed down to his black short sleeves. He was staring impassively at the opposite wall and had been from the moment he sat down.
Despite his attempts to make Spock as comfortable as possible—a warmer room, gloved hands, as little physical touch as he could manage—the Vulcan had retreated into himself with an air of icy resignation. McCoy knew that Spock could be reserved but he’d never seen the first officer this remote. Any attempts on his part to ease the process with small talk was met with stony silence. His patient only spoke if asked a question directly related to the examination and even then his answers were clipped and to the point.
He would’ve assumed that this frigid attitude was because of him if Christine hadn’t warned him. She’d been part of the Enterprise’s medical staff since the early days when Christopher Pike had been her captain, Dr. Jabilo M’Benga’s uncle had been CMO, and Spock had been a young lieutenant.
Christine had been able to partially fill McCoy in on what to expect. Really he would’ve liked to have had a conversation about his Vulcan patient with Jabilo’s uncle, Dr. Joseph M’Benga, since he’d actually been one of Spock’s previous doctors, but given the circumstances that was impossible. He’d been forced to make do with what he had. He’d been underprepared for the level of intense discomfort the Vulcan was radiating. His pleasantly affable bedside manner, usually so effective with humans, did nothing to ease the tension.
He finished calibrating the overhead ultrasound probe. Normally, he would have foregone such a complicated setup in favor of a good old-fashioned stethoscope—he trusted his own ears far more than a digital spectrogram of the audio—but in his efforts to go contactless, and therefore Vulcan friendly, he had opted for the OUP.
“Alright, Mr. Spock. Breathe in for me.”
The Vulcan complied. After a few moments of recording Spock’s breathing, McCoy studied the readout. The spectrogram’s pattern didn’t have any markers that raised a red flag. Mr. Spock was in possession of a perfectly healthy set of Vulcan lungs.
“Now we’re going to measure your heart rate.” He adjusted the OUP so that it was closer to Spock’s lower left side. “Lift your arm, please.”
Spock lifted his arm. McCoy’s mouth formed a thin line and he had to make a concerted effort not to frown. He hadn’t exactly been expecting resistance during this physical, but he also hadn’t been expecting Spock to be so unlike his usual, obstinate self. This coldly compliant side of the first officer was unsettling to say the least. He hadn’t realized just how expressive the non-expressive Vulcan had been up until this moment.
“It’s really too bad your internal arrangements aren’t a little more normal,” McCoy commented.
He winced internally when Spock’s stoic expression became even stonier—if that were possible—but it was too late to back out now. He had chosen his course and he would see it through. Call it intuition, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that a little light-hearted ribbing might be just the thing to thaw out that cold-spell the Vulcan seemed to be under. He finished fiddling with the OUP’s placement under Spock’s arm and hoped to God he was right.
“You might actually be able to convince folks you have a heart if it weren’t so blasted hard to find,” he continued.
If McCoy hadn’t been looking directly at him he might have missed the sudden, subtle quirk of Spock’s eyebrow. He retreated to look at the readouts and let Spock stew with that one for a minute. He felt sure his barb had hit its mark, but would it bear fruit or had he just gone one step too far?
He deliberately took longer to process this new spectrogram. When Spock still hadn’t said a word, he finally looked up, prepared to find an icily withdrawn Vulcan. Instead, he found Mr. Spock’s dark eyes on him.
They were interrupted by the chirp of the intercom. “Kirk here. What’s the verdict, Bones? Do I get my first officer back?”
“Good news, Jim. He really does have a heart.”
Kirk laughed. “I could have told you that.”
“Not that it’s anywhere you’d expect it to be, which explains a thing or two. Besides that, I can’t find a thing wrong with him. He’s all yours.”
“Have him meet me in the shuttle bay. Scotty thinks he’s found something on our mystery woman.”
“Acknowledged, Captain. I shall be there momentarily.” Spock looked at McCoy. “As for my anatomy being different from yours, I am delighted.”
His voice betrayed nothing, but his dark eyes were no longer guarded. Instead, they were curiously bright and the corner of his mouth quirked in an expression McCoy might have labeled as sass if he hadn’t been looking at a Vulcan. McCoy’s eyebrow rose.
“Of course you would be,” he muttered good-naturedly. “Now, get out of my exam room.”
— —
Bridge shift, take-two, hadn’t been nearly as exciting this time around, but Janice was fine with that. Flying at impulse power was always rather tedious, but she was fine with that too. The one thing that Janice hadn’t been fine with was the fact that she’d been put on helm-support, which meant she’d only gotten to be on helm during the moments Lt. Sulu was covering the conn for the captain. Granted, there had been quite a few of those. The captain kept running off to Sickbay or engineering.
One thing that had made everything better was the fact that her shift ended at the same time as the captain’s. She tried to remind herself to breathe normally as she stood next to him in the turbolift, but the radiating warmth that filled the space between them seeped into her thoughts. He offered her an amicable smile when she looked over at him. Her heart took it and ran.
Her brother and his friends were waiting for her on Deck 7. Tina’s eyes grew wide when she saw the captain in the turbolift with her. Janice shot her a look hoping that she would get the message and keep her mouth shut. If only she were so lucky.
“Captain Kirk! We’re getting drinks in the lounge. You should join us.”
Janice was mortified. “Tina!”
The captain laughed. “I’m flattered, Yeoman.”
“You can’t just ask the captain out for drinks,” Janice hissed.
Tina shrugged unapologetically. “I just did. And there aren’t any rules against the captain having a few drinks with his crew,” she said, turning to the captain.
“That’s right, but I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint,” Kirk replied.
“Oh, you could never, sir.” Tina simpered.
Janice wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. The venomous look she shot her friend was unabashedly returned with a smile.
“Eddie.” Janice protested to her brother.
He did his best to hide his grin but he began to shepard Tina away.
“Bye, Captain. You’re always welcome at our table.” Tina threw over her shoulder.
Her friends passed by Dr. McCoy in the hallway as he made his way to the lift. Janice knew if she was going to apologize it had to be now. She was sure her cheeks were bright red, but she forced herself to look the captain in the eye.
“I’m so sorry about that, sir.”
“That’s alright, Lieutenant. We can’t always be responsible for who our friends are.”
Janice would have been mortified all over again if, at the last moment, she hadn’t realized that the captain was directing this particular quip in Dr. McCoy’s direction. She drew in a deep breath and decided to scrape herself off the floor.
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Thank your friend for her kind offer.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure that would be a good idea, sir. She might get it into her head that she should keep inviting you.”
“Then I’ll just have to join you next time. Goodnight, Lieutenant.”
“Goodnight, sir,” She managed to stutter out before the doors closed.
Janice stood staring at the lift for a good few seconds after it departed. She was still moving through a gilded haze when someone called her name. The bubble burst the moment she saw Joe. Her friends were waiting for her and here she was with her head stuck in the stratosphere. She quickly got a hold of herself.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she told him.
He shrugged. “I wanted to.”
They walked quietly through the halls. She could sense an odd tension on Joe’s part. He spoke before she could think of something interesting to say.
“I’d like to ask you on a date.”
The words died on her tongue. She opened and closed her mouth trying to think what to say. “Joey, I’m flattered…” she trailed off.
After a moment he asked, “Is it the captain?”
She laughed but it came out hollow. “What gives you that idea?”
“I’m not as dense as you think.”
“Joe,” she said reproachfully. “I don’t think you’re dense.”
“No,” he agreed. “You just aren’t interested in me.” She opened her mouth to protest but he shrugged a shoulder. “It’s alright, Janice. You don’t have to make excuses.”
They were both quiet as they neared the lounge. Joe stopped at the threshold and Janice pivoted to look at him.
“Aren’t you coming?”
A shake of his head set his brown curls dancing. “Make my excuses to Eddie and Tina, would you?”
She nodded.
“Goodnight, Janice.”
“See you around, Joey.”
She watched him go, feeling an uncomfortable sort of feeling settle into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t like hurting people, or disappointing them for that matter. But this was Joe. He was the most sensitive, understanding person she knew. He’d get past it. Right?
— —
Dr. McCoy turned his sharp blue gaze onto Kirk the moment the turbolift doors slid shut. A single quirk of his eyebrow would’ve conveyed volumes to his old friend, but Kirk wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the captain was staring off into space.
“What was all that about?” McCoy asked with more than a little amusement.
“Oh, just some of the crew wanting to get drinks.”
“Was that Tina Lawton I saw? It’s good to see she’s feeling like herself again.” McCoy noticed Kirk’s look of puzzlement. “Her hormonal therapy was giving her a rough go of it for a while there,” he offered by way of explanation.
“Ah, yes.” Recollection lit Kirk’s eyes. He grinned. “She definitely seems to be feeling better now.”
They rode in silence both deep in thought.
“We’re in the briefing room.” McCoy looked at his friend. “That’s on deck three. So, what brought you from the bridge all the way down to deck seven?”
There was a flash of hazel as the captain looked at him and then away. “I thought I’d keep you company on the ride up.”
“How considerate,” McCoy said dryly. He paused for a moment. “That Lieutenant Rand is a very handsome woman. A woman like that would turn anybody’s head.”
“It’s nothing like that.” It was a flat statement rather than a protest.
McCoy might have believed him if he hadn’t known his friend so well. “No shame in it if it was. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating a little beauty. Unless, of course, it becomes a distraction.”
“Preaching to the choir, Bones.”
“I know, Jim, but it’s my job to know where your head’s at. Consider this a welfare check.”
The captain nodded and—smiling self-deprecatingly—made a hand motion that conveyed a similar sentiment. McCoy had long ago learned that these non-answers were more telling than any verbal response.
He pressed further. “Is there anything I should know about?”
Kirk laughed, more as an emotional release than from any actual amusement.
“No,” he said. “I mean, it’s flattering. Knowing that someone looks up to and admires you. But I’m the captain. Like you said, I can’t afford distractions. Not when I’m beholden to an entire ship and crew.”
There was a sense of deeper meaning in the captain’s response. He doubted that Jim recognized it himself. He considered his next words carefully.
“You’re also human,” he told his friend. “If you ever need to get something off your chest, there’s nothing wrong with letting an old friend help lighten your emotional load.”
Jim offered him a quiet smile. “And some day, I might take you up on it.”
McCoy opened his mouth and then hesitated. As much as he hated the vagueness of that statement, some day was better than never and he felt he’d reached the limit of how far he could push his friend. He shut his mouth.
Those hazel eyes turned on him. “The same goes for you, Bones. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open.”
McCoy laughed and patted himself under the chin with the back of one hand. “With this mug? I don’t think I’m in any danger of getting distracted. You don’t exactly have to beat them off me with a stick.”
That earned him a smile, but then Kirk grew serious. “We haven’t talked about M-113 outside of the facts listed in our report. I’m serious, Bones. If you ever need to talk about what happened.”
McCoy nodded soberly. He wanted to retreat into himself and curl around that raw hurt that ached in the pit of his chest. He didn’t want to be open or vulnerable or any of it. He just wanted to hide. But hadn’t he just gotten done telling Jim that there was nothing wrong with letting a friend take some of that emotional burden? And yet he still wasn’t ready to talk about it. Somewhere, there was a balance—if only he could find that fine thread of a line—between taking the time he needed and accepting a hand outstretched.
“I— Someday, Jim. When I’m ready.”
His friend nodded, knowing that was all McCoy was able to offer him in this moment.