FIC: Divergence 18/?
Helaspont Nebula: USS Enterprise, year 2246
‘Emergency Medical Override, authorization McCoy nine-seven-seven-zeta-lima.’
The computer chirped as it processed his voice and code, before the door opened with a hiss.
Leonard McCoy braced himself for anything as he entered the dark quarters holding his breath, trying not to disturb the cloistered sense of quiet inside the dark room. Standing there by the open door, his eyes scoured the room. Nothing moved. Taking out the medical tricorder he’d picked up from one of the Emergency First Aid units along the way, he switched it on and scanned the room, squinting at the display before his eyes flicked around the room once more. Two human bio-signs; McCoy almost sighed in relief - so Jimmy was here, he was just doing a very good job of hiding. The tricorder beeped softly in light musical tones.
‘Jim…?’ McCoy said then mentally shook himself; this wasn’t Jim. He lowered his voice, not wanting to spook the kid. ‘Jimmy, it’s me, Doctor Leonard McCoy, remember me?’
There was no response. Damn. He could force the issue but the kid might just take off again, and - well, Jim did drive a car off a cliff when he was about ten years old. At thirteen…
‘Look I know you’re in here. You can’t hide from a tricorder.’
McCoy switched the tricorder off and put it down on a nearby alcove. He had a feeling that he could scream his lungs out and Jimmy wouldn’t come out unless he wanted to. If he was any kind of decent friend, he knew that he should be able to get the kid to come out of hiding; after all, this was a younger version of Jim, and he’d been analyzing the crazy bastard for the last five years. There were differences - for one thing, Jimmy freely expressed his emotions, something which the young captain would have a hard time doing. Despite Jim’s smiling, teasing, scowling and brooding, McCoy suspected that more than half of that was just bullshit.
Well, there’s an understatement… he’s your regular Mr. Act Naturally…
But there were some things that were universal: Jim didn’t talk about his problems, never had, and McCoy had a sneaking suspicion that the boy didn’t like talking about his problems either. He stepped forward and let the door close behind him, and manually turned the lights on. The room was washed in warm mellow orange lighting. It was a rather unusual and vintage shade, but McCoy supposed that Jim had gotten used to old-fashioned lighting back home in Iowa and felt most comfortable in it. He hoped that this brought some kind of comfort to Jimmy too.
‘There were a lot of people looking for you, you know, you had me worried…. Now I don’t blame you for running… some of the things you’ve seen, hell I’d be likely to run off myself. But it’s been four hours and it’s high time you come out now.’
No one ducked out from the shadows. He wondered if a different tactic was in order. Jim was stubborn as a mule sometimes, but he always had one major weakness - people and that damn mile-wide compassionate streak of his. McCoy knew that this was almost underhanded but dammit, the kid needed to go back to Sickbay for a proper check up.
‘Now I know you’re probably thinking that you can’t trust us, but it’s okay Jimmy, I promise you - we’re a Federation vessel and we won’t do anything to hurt you or your friend, Spock, okay?’
There was a terse silence and McCoy wondered if he had gotten it wrong when a nearby ventilation grille clicked from its placement and clattered to the floor. Jimmy gave him a wide-eyed look, his body unfolding swiftly as he staggered out, worry clear on his face. Mention Spock and then suddenly he’s all ears… McCoy barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. At least some things never changed - Jimmy was loyal to a fault and exploitable on that point.
McCoy blinked at the sight of Jimmy in proper lighting, his face clean of grime from Chapel’s attentions and showing off bruises and discoloration in startling clarity. What had seemed like just a nasty black-eye with a bit of swelling had been cleaned to show layers of abuse and half-healed tender flesh, lines of dotted maroon where the skin had broken. All his feelings from when he’d first found young Spock and Jimmy returned with a vengeance, making him almost sick.
‘Good God!’ He gasped, because despite what his initial tricorder scan had revealed, he hadn’t really prepared himself for the sight.
‘Spock!’ Jimmy stammered loudly in a shout, blue eyes flashing with worry. ‘Is he okay? You were in surgery with him! Is he-?’
‘Woah! Hey kid, calm down - let me have a look at you okay!’ McCoy frowned and held his hands up to placate the boy, determined to get Jimmy back to Sickbay - now! When he reached out to touch Jimmy, the boy shrugged his arm off with a wild shout and spun away sharply to avoid him.
‘Tell me about Spock! Is he okay?’
He eyed the pensive expression of the boy’s face, noting the tenseness of the knees and thighs, and the hunch of his narrow shoulders. Posed like a terrified rabbit ready to bolt…
‘If I tell you, will you come back to Sickbay?’
Breathing hard, Jimmy Kirk glared at him. ‘What happened to Spock?’
Doctor Leonard McCoy took a deep breath and held back his automatic demand that the kid listen to his elders for his own goddamn good and come back to Sickbay now, sensing that the harder he pulled, the harder Jimmy would resist.
‘You’d know if you hadn’t run off,’ he said quietly, ‘but he’s going to be just fine… you know it would be good if someone could go sit with him.’
‘You telling the truth?’
‘Yes,’ McCoy grumbled, feeling a burst of soft affection at the no-bullshit expression on the boy’s face. ‘He’s just fine, that Vulcan metabolism just doesn’t know when to quit - now will you come down to Sickbay?’
Jimmy stared at him for a long moment, his eyes strangely hard for a kid and he could almost see the cogs spinning behind those familiar yet alien blue eyes. ‘He got it wrong.’
‘What?’
‘Nero,’ Jimmy growled, in a tone darker than what the doctor was used to coming out of a thirteen year old kid’s mouth. ‘He said that I’d have an exemplary service record on the Farragut, before being transferred to the Enterprise as the Captain. He said that Spock and I would be best friends, but Spock marooned me on a planet for attempted mutiny!’
A quick glance to the left showed that someone had touched Jim’s computer terminal, the screen skewed at an odd angle. ‘Have you been reading the Ship’s Log?’ He asked sharply.
There was a defiant tilt to Jimmy’s chin, ‘It’s not hacking if it recognized my voice.’
A surge of relief went through McCoy at the familiar sass in that voice. Oh it was a higher pitch but the intonation and snippy edge was Jim Kirk all the way and drove him absolute peanuts. Eying the boy’s defensive pose, he approached carefully and gave the kid a wry smile. ‘Then you know that Starfleet sent us. We’re good guys, Jimmy, we’re here to take care of you and Spock, get you boys home safely. I know you’re confused but you can trust us, right?’
From the way that the kid stared at him with steel in his eyes, the verdict was still out on that one. ‘My dad… that man… that was me wasn’t it?’
McCoy nodded reluctantly. There wasn’t any point in keeping Jimmy from the truth. Dammit the kid had already accessed the Ship’s Logs, who knew what other classified information Jimmy had perused. A sensible part of him, somehow able to stand back from this entire goddamn mess and see with objectivity, joked about the slings their asses would be in for this monumental cock-up.
‘This ship is the USS Enterprise NCC-1701, commissioned in 2258 as the flagship of the 9th Fleet.’ Jimmy Kirk said in a small tight voice, ‘These are my quarters. The cabins next door belong to a Commander Spock and a Lieutenant Commander Scott. You are Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer.’
‘Sounds like you got me figured out.’
Swallowing thickly and visibly reigning in whatever reaction he might have had, the boy glanced away. ‘Why are you even here?’
There was restrained emotion in the boy’s voice and McCoy felt a deep pang of the same helplessness as when he’d stood on that porch in Iowa and was told that Jimmy Kirk was dead. Like a switch had been flicked inside him, Jimmy Kirk changed before McCoy’s eyes; he wasn’t a patient or even the objective of a mission, he was a boy. Jimmy was alive but he had had been taken from his home, mistreated, starved and terrorized, all because of what he could one day become. That was a whole other level of hatred. ‘You were never meant to go through this. We’re here to preserve the timeline, and that means getting you back home, son.’
Jimmy’s hands were fisted by his sides and his face was completely blank, even though his eyes were burning brightly with a fierce swirl of emotions. ‘You guys came back from the future to stop the Romulans, didn’t you? Why didn’t you go back further? Why didn’t you!’
McCoy shook his head, because God did Jimmy think that he hadn’t thought about this himself? It was practically the first thing he thought about when being issued with this damn mission! They could stop the Kelvin from losing most of its 800 crew and give Jim a childhood with his dad…. Yeah, they could stop the Narada from destroying the Kelvin, but why stop there? They could do better - they could stop Tarsus IV from ever happening. But that way led to craziness, hubris…
‘Dammit Jimmy, we couldn’t. Our mission wasn’t-’
‘But you just said!’ The boy cried, ‘You’re here to preserve the timeline! Why didn’t you stop everything he did! Make things the way they were supposed to be!’
Air rushed out of the doctor’s lungs, as his mind suddenly went back to the conversation a week ago, when the year was still 2260. Jim had tracked him down after a confidential meeting with Spock over their latest mission, demanding a drink and McCoy had broken out that bottle of Saurian brandy he’d been saving up for an occasion. Going back in time wasn’t the occasion he had been hoping to drink to but Jim had needed it…. And what Jim had said… Bones, we could stop everything Nero did… make things the way they’re supposed to be.
The conversation came back to him in full detail. Yeah, they could stop the Kelvin’s destruction. Hell, they could stop the events of Tarsus IV, save the lives of four-thousand innocent colonists. But then important legislation regarding the colonization process made by the Federation Council in response to Tarsus IV might never happen, and maybe further down the line more than four thousand people would have to die before the same safety measures were put in place.
The way things were meant to be?
FUCK, the Enterprise might not have even been built tough enough to go against Klingon warships head-to-head, if it weren’t for all the advances that had been made due to the Kelvin disaster, advances in emergency protocol and defense technology that had saved countless Starfleet officers through the years - and if they saved the Kelvin, who knew what would happen? What gave them the damn right?
‘Because!’ McCoy snapped, ‘We can’t, kid! You know the damn rules! We stop that one thing and then what do we do? Run around the whole damn Federation to stop events from happening? What gives us the right to decide what should and shouldn’t happen? Who the hell do you think we are?’
A flash of surprise went across the child’s face, furious and heartbroken and just as quickly hid itself behind the trembling clumsy mask that he had seen before on another face, perfected with anger and coldness. A quick flash of reproach went through McCoy for the harshness of his tone, because this wasn’t Jim, this was a fucking kid, who was lost and hurt and angry.
‘If you’ve come back to stop Nero, then why not my dad? Why not him?’ Stepping forward, Jimmy Kirk glared at him flashing between desolation and anger, hands clumsily fisting into McCoy’s Starfleet jersey. ‘He never should have died! He’s supposed to be alive, but the Romulans killed him - you could have stopped that! Just him! Don’t I-’ the boy choked, ‘-don’t I deserve - don’t I…!’
Leonard McCoy swallowed as the fierce look on the boy’s face melted into an imploring look, bordering on absolute desperation. He tightened his hold on Jimmy’s shoulder, urging the boy to look at him. ‘Of course you do but- of course we wanted to but- but it doesn’t work like that, son… I’m sorry.’
Wrapping his arms around Jimmy, he gave the boy a fierce hug and felt more than heard the boy screaming his frustrations against his ribs, bony body stiff against his larger frame. There was a choked sob and then the boy’s face was buried in his side, trying to hide as he hiccupped and gasped for air. Vaguely he wondered why kids always insisted on rubbing snot and tears all over his shirt. The peace lasted for a short few minutes and then Jimmy was struggling against him.
‘Shh…’ He said gruffly and held the kid tight, almost smothering the kid against his uniform. Brushing the hair from Jimmy’s forehead, he laid a heavy palm over the kid’s skull. ‘Shhh…. It’s okay, kid, you’re good, Spock’s good-’
‘And my mom…?’ Jimmy croaked against his chest.
He paused, his lips pursed.
‘She’s crazier than ever.’ There was a choked laugh against him, and the doctor peered down at the crown of dark blonde hair, relieved that it had been the right thing to say. ‘She’s waiting for you at home, you know.’
Abruptly, Jimmy sagged against him, hangs digging into his flesh almost painfully as his knees just seemed to give out as he gasped and choked for air, his sobs turning ragged. McCoy swallowed at the abrupt change from disgruntled distress to this anguish. It felt strangely natural to hoist the kid up into a bear hug but almost immediately he felt Jimmy stiffen and begin to squirm. Worry gave him the strength to carry Jimmy to the bed and settle him down. The boy curled instinctually into a tight ball, clutching at the blankets and hiding. McCoy reached out and stroked the kid’s hair like he would for Joanna when she was ill and wondered at the sight of someone he knew so well, so young and so raw, yet still attempting to push people away.
‘Jimmy,’ he said softly, hand hovering over the hem of the boy’s tunic, ‘I’m going to lift up your shirt, and have a look at you, okay?’
The boy twisted away from him and burrowed further into the blankets, shoulders shaking in dry silent sobs. McCoy slowly drew up the tunic, revealing pronounced rib bones and reddish dark bruises deepening at places. The sight made him wince. Despite Jim’s insistence that Jimmy wasn’t him, in many ways Jimmy was exactly the same.
---
Planet-side: Earth, Starfleet Academy, year 2246
Commander Christopher Pike stalked through Starfleet Academy towards the shuttle hangar, a PADD in his hand and a deep frown stretched across his face. He’d received the orders this morning, and like a domino effect, all his classes were rescheduled to another teacher, that survival training exercise he’d been planning to Australia was cancelled - just thinking about the planning gone to waste pissed him off - and no one would tell him anything except that these were official orders. Pike hoped so because if this was somehow an elaborate joke, someone was going to get an earful.
He saw her as soon as he entered, surrounded by a hive of activity as yeoman, petty officers and engineers rallied for her attention, commodore’s pin at her collar and her hair pinned high on top of her head. Striding towards her, he glared at the yeoman who cast him a curious glance and didn’t stop until he was directly next to her.
‘This had better not be a joke.’
Winona Kirk didn’t turn from her perusal of the PADD that a nervous yeoman held out to her, his eyes flicking to Pike and then back before arriving upon the PADD and staying there, obviously deciding that whatever was going on between the two senior officers, he did not want to get involved.
‘Chris, how lovely to see you again -’ Winona said distractedly, tapping at something on the PADD screen, ‘There’s an error with item no. 25, I asked for 500 units, not 50 - get it fixed.’
There was a hurried “Yes, sir” before the yeoman was gone, hurrying away towards the Starfleet Requisitions Office. A young engineer took his place with a glance of curiosity at him, bearing a PADD which she held out to Winona for inspection.
‘Winona, what the hell is going on?’ He said tersely in a low voice, not wanting to attract attention with all of the yeoman and engineers swarming around the place. ‘These orders are ridiculous. I did not ask for this.’
Winona rolled her eyes and taking the stylus from the young woman, signed off on the Engineering request and spinning on her heel, heading swiftly for the other end of the hangar deck. ‘You wanted to get involved, Chris, well here’s your chance - you’re officially involved.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Pike followed the woman with an exasperated expression.
When he had caught Winona Kirk yesterday at the Academy’s main café he had hinted not to subtly that he would be open to information about their two guests’ whereabouts and fate. Winona had artfully dodged his questions with innuendo and teasing, and when he had pressed her, she had told him that if he really wanted more information, then he should wait until tomorrow. It was tomorrow now, and he’d woken up to find himself under orders to report to Commodore Kirk for immediate mission’s dispatch. To say that it was brief and uninformative was an understatement.
‘Chris, I doubt even you know what you meant,’ Winona said with an unladylike snort, ‘but you wanted to know. This is the only way that was going to happen. I’m shipping out in an hour, taking the Douglas, the Saltash and the Narvik this time, and heading out to the Beta Quadrant.’
‘And I’m going with you?’
‘Of course, come on we need to do one last check-up.’ Winona flashed a grin back at him before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the medical facilities attached to the shuttle hangar. There was a doctor waiting for her, who immediately called for assistance from a nurse.
‘Take off your uniform, Commander.’
Pike gave a huff of annoyance but did what the doctor requested. A hypospray was decompressed against the side of his neck with a hiss and a pinch of pain before he even realized what was happening. The Commander grimaced and rubbed at his neck - damn he hated those things.
Seated on a biobed with her jacket undone awaiting her own shots, Winona Kirk gave him a bemused grin. ‘You haven’t changed your mind have you?’
‘No,’ Pike grunted as another hypo was emptied into his upper arm without any warning. He’d been dragged into this mess by helping Jim and McCoy escape. He was involved already, from the moment he picked those men up from Riverside and thrown their ass into detention. Besides, arguing with Winona Kirk was the kind of stupid that even Pike didn’t have.
‘Good,’ she gave him a small nod of approval before flashing him a wicked grin followed by a wince as the last of her shots were administered, ‘it wouldn’t do you any good - once I get you, I keep you.’
Winona re-did her jacket and hopped off the biobed before leaving the medical facility at the same pace she entered, with a short “come on”. Pike followed with a nod at the doctors. According to the public records, there were three ships due to ship out today and several departments were in full frenzy trying to ready the vessels for departure. Pike wondered what the rush was and tensed as a stray thought came to him - the attack on Tau Ceti was only two days before, and the assailant had been an unidentified vessel, perhaps even the same unidentified vessel that Jim had spoken of.
‘What exactly is this mission?’
For the first time since he had arrived, she turned and faced him to speak. ‘Full debriefing in an hour, all senior officers to meet in Briefing Room 3 aboard the Douglas - congratulations, Commander,’ Winona gave him a sly wink, ‘You’re to assume command of the USS Saltash for the duration of this mission. See you on the bridge, now if you’ll excuse me…’
Spinning on her heel, the woman walked away and almost immediately, was hailed by a passing crewman waving a PADD along with two petty officers from the Science department, clamoring for her signature and her attention regarding one issue or another. Christopher Pike took a deep brief breath and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into now, before going to the nearest computer terminal and looking up his ship.
----
Helaspont Nebula: USS Enterprise, year 2246
The corridors of the Enterprise were dark, lit with emergency lights in the floors and running along the side of the walls. McCoy kept his arm steady around Jimmy’s narrow shoulders and herded the boy through the corridors. Chapel had given them a look when they arrived back in Sickbay but wisely decided not to speak, especially when the kid had all but run over to the ward where they were keeping young Spock.
‘Doctor,’ Chapel said sotto voce, sliding up next to him.
‘Nurse,’ he replied in the same low-tone.
‘Is he going to be okay?’ She asked, frowning at the boys.
McCoy folded his arms and exhaled with satisfaction at the sight of Jimmy, standing by young Spock’s bedside and reaching out to gently touch the Vulcan on the arm, a wary expression on his face. ‘He’ll be just fine, as fine as anyone can be under the circumstances.’
He doubted somehow that Jimmy knew any other way to be except to keep walking and smiling. It was something about Jim that he had long admired, and somewhat pitied. McCoy hated to admit this but watching the kid interact with his unconscious friend was almost soothing, compared to the chaos of the last few days. A young Spock and a young Jim together in these surroundings, the familiar trappings of Sickbay, was almost… well, to tell the truth he had no idea what this was, other than strange.
‘Give him another ten minutes.’ McCoy said, uncomfortably watching as Jimmy started rearranging young Spock’s floppy fringe, his Vulcan hair-cut having grown out in the months they had been aboard the ship. It was strangely intimate, and - he took a sharp breath - a little too surreal for his taste.
The ship’s intercom chose at that moment to whistle loudly, signaling that the Bridge was calling - from the Captain’s chair no less. “Bridge to Sickbay, come in.”
McCoy shared a look with Chapel at the terseness of Uhura’s voice. ‘McCoy here, what is it Lieutenant?’
“Sir we’ve just picked up the Hendrik Lorentz on long-range scanners. They’re entering the nebula expanse and will be docking in fifteen minutes - they’ve requested that Sickbay be prepared to receive them.”
McCoy frowned at that and already his mind careened ahead, to what possibly could have happened when those crazy fools had run off to play cowboys. Dammit, he mentally swore - couldn’t Jim have given him more warning than fifteen minutes? That was just enough time to get a team together and head down to the hangar. ‘Do you have any details, Lieutenant? Anything that could give us an idea of what we should expect?’
“No, I’m sorry, doctor - there was too much interference, we were only able to get a brief burst before losing the transmission.”
McCoy nodded though the woman couldn’t see him and mentally braced himself to clean up after whatever stunt Jim had pulled now. ‘Okay, thanks for the heads-up, Lieutenant. McCoy out.’
Turning to face Chapel, he met the woman’s terse look with a weary nod, ‘I want you to prep for surgery, ICU, everything you hear? Get M’Benga back in here, and do what you have to do if the patients are human or Vulcan - get me Essex and Nar… get out a gurney.’
He didn’t bother to explain the rest. There was work to do.
---------
Orbit above Benzar - USS Bendigo, year 2246
‘Return to Starbase 10? We just got here!’
Captain Robert April jumped up from his chair and stalked around the bridge till he was by the communication terminals, a deep frown on his face. His primary communications officer didn’t answer, his eyes riveted upon the screen as he decrypted their latest dispatch from Command, coming in hot and fast.
‘Sir I’ve checked and double checked - the first part of the message is clear: we are ordered to return to the Command Chief of Sector 6, pending further orders.’ His chief communications officer said tersely, not looking up from the screen as he continued to read through the details of their dispatch.
‘Well did they give a reason?’ At the shake of the head, he turned to look over the other communication officers, ‘can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?’
Being a captain well into middle-age and overdue for a desk appointment, April took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, he’s gone through this type of thing before. It wasn’t often that Starfleet Command gave orders that were completely insane, but there was always a damn good reason - they didn’t travel an entire two days to Benzar just to turn around and head back to Starbase 10!
‘I’m getting Starfleet comm. Captain.’ Marquardt reported from the secondary station into the quiet of the bridge, a terse frown upon her narrow face. No one breathed.
‘New information, Lieutenant?’
The young Nigerian gave her console a perplexed look, and began to dial through frequencies. ‘Yes sir. All nonessential travel’s been suspended, and ships are being recalled to Starbases all over.’
Commander Diamond spun around and shook his head, hand covering his ear piece. ‘I can confirmed the Lieutenant’s report; the USS Spiegelman, USS Niger, USS Capella and the USS Deneva are all returning to report in at their designated Sector Command. They’re building up the fleet, sir.’
The news cast a chill through the bridge.
For months there had been rumors about Romulan vessels disregarding the Neutral Zone and crossing freely into Federation space. Then there had been sightings and random attacks by an unknown vessel which had hit Starfleet Altair shipyards as well as the one in the Vulcan system. Intelligence and Tactical both leaned towards the Romulans; sneaking hits on ship yards and civilian vessels didn’t seem to be a Klingon thing do. Then two days ago, a brutal and senseless attack had occurred in the orbit over Tau Ceti, believed to be the work of the same unknown vessel.
‘Is there going to be war?’
Robert April spun around, surprised by the new voice. Sarah gave him a sharp look, her lips a thin line which either meant she was angry or she was afraid. He had been so caught up with what was happening he had missed her entrance onto the bridge. He wondered how she’d known and when she had left Sickbay, before remembering that she was the Chief Medical Officer and that naturally, as Second Officer she would have been informed.
‘We hope not.’ But it looks like it, he thought with another frown. ‘Helm, set a course for Starbase 10, all deliberate speed.’
----------
Helaspont Nebula: USS Enterprise, year 2246
‘How’s Spock?’
Taking a deep breath in the immediate aftermath of the usual Sickbay chaos, Leonard McCoy ignored the question and gave the young Ensign he’d been treating for minor disruptor burns a slight smile, before leaving her to the care of the one of the nurses.
‘You’re a menace, you know that,’ He mumbled as he sidestepped the young captain and went on to the next patient, a Lieutenant Tamura. ‘So you've finally decided that your magical powers of pacing would be of greater use here annoying me then in front of the operating room doors.’
Jim gave him a dirty look, ‘How’s Spock?’
He didn’t know if he was relieved that Jim had come back from this impromptu “retrieval operation” with no major contusions in possession all his fingers and toes, or if he was annoyed that the man was making a nuisance of himself due to the lack of pain. ‘Which one? If we’re talking about the younger one, he’s asleep and going to be on bed rest for the next week, but nothing you need to worry about - and as for you, the other you has handholding duty.’
McCoy ignored Jim’s confused mutter on “what the hell is handholding duty” and went to a nearby cabinet for some new hypospray capsules. ‘On the other hand if you’re wondering about our Spock, the one who gives me headaches, he’ll be out of surgery in two hours - and no Jim, I should not be operating on him. I was just in an operation and my concentration is shot; M’Benga trained at the VSA so you can’t do better than him and in answer to your next question: yes Jim, you may have visitor rights, as long as you keep it to five minutes.’
Jim closed his open mouth with a click, shooting the older man a look of annoyance. ‘Okay, then I’ll just go back to my quarters and-’
‘The hell you are.’ Grabbing the man by the arm, McCoy dragged Jim to Ward 2 where he was keeping young Spock, wanting a little privacy. He didn’t believe for a second that Jim would actually return to his quarters and sleep - high on adrenalin and mission-focused, Jim would keep going until he burnt himself out. ‘Come on then, you need to get yourself looked over.’
‘Bones, I don’t have the time-’
Shoving Jim back onto a biobed in the corner, he ignored the man’s protests and picked up his medical tricorder and set it for Jim’s own personal baseline settlings; the captain’s health was one of the CMO’s priorities, and McCoy took that seriously. ‘You can make time, Jim; the debriefing can wait; we’re not in any immediate danger; Spock’s not out for another two hours, and the rest of the away team are being taken care of,’ he held up a hand when Jim opened his mouth to complain, ‘- and yes, they’ll be good enough for discharge in two hours.’
‘And Spock? When will he be cleared?’ Jim asked, shoving his hand out of the way when McCoy tried to hold the sensor closer for more detailed readings.
‘He’ll be back to harassing you within a week or so.’ He said gruffly, before switching to a regenerator and peeling off the temporary bandage that O’Connell had applied to a long thin cut on the man’s forehead. He tried to tilt Jim’s head to the left but was met with a flinty glare instead.
McCoy met the look and sighed quietly, his tone solemn despite the mocking words. ‘Jim, if Spock wasn’t fine, I’d kill myself within a week of dealing with your brand of crazy. Now shut up and hold still while I take care of this.’
Jim’s eyes searched his before the young captain took a deep breath and relaxed. McCoy squeezed Jim’s shoulder and felt a grudging respect. In times like this, he saw the best part of Jim, who would take ownership of a problem and throw himself at it until he had it conquered. Now all I’ve got to do is stop the fool from focusing on where he’s failed… He firmly turned Jim’s head to the left, running the regenerator’s soothing rays over the cut. Before his eyes, the skin began to heal and knit.
‘I hope you had fun, running off guns-blazing to rescue Spock.’
The younger man cast his eyes downward for the briefest second that would almost seem like an inconsequential gesture if McCoy had not known him for five long years. He read the look as amused, pensive, conflicted and maybe a little uncertain, but there was a small pleased smile on Jim’s lips hinting that his thoughts had shifted from the usual self-condemning if-only and could-have scenarios.
‘Of course,’ Jim shot him a familiar grin, ‘I read Spock the riot act.’
‘Uh-huh,’ McCoy drawled, pleased to see Jim’s mood pick up a little, ‘and let me guess - he reminded you that logic alone dictates his actions?’
‘Captain, I would not remind you that which you know so well.’ Jim quoted, in a passable Spock-voice, and they shared quiet chuckle before Jim’s eyes abruptly went to something over McCoy’s shoulder, a look of surprise flashing across his face quickly before bewilderment settled over his features, as if he’d seen something both fascinating and disconcerting. ‘Ah… Bones, is he supposed to be doing that?’
For a moment, he was going to ask Jim who he was referring to but then he turned. It was Jimmy, who had somehow gone from practicing hair-arrangement on young Spock to actually being on the biobed itself. The kid had crawled in and squeezed himself into the small space between the Vulcan’s body and the bed rails. Only a hand on his elbow stopped McCoy from storming over and telling the kid to get out of that bed right now.
‘Let it go, Bones.’
‘Should’ve known; I give him a hand, he takes a bed - you Kirks and your goddamn inability to follow rules!’ He muttered quietly with a glare in the young captain’s direction. Deciding that his talents could be better utilized than trading barbs with Jim, McCoy picked up a hypospray from a nearby cart and quickly loaded it. Jim eyed it suspiciously, ‘err Bones I’m not allergic to anything.’
‘Bullshit, you were on an alien ship - I am not going to be suffering a week from now because you caught some obscure strain of space flu. Now, hold still.’ Working from experience, he didn’t give Jim a chance to say no before stabbing the man in the thigh. There was a pained yelp and a hiss of displeasure. ‘I wish I didn’t know you.’
‘Well I’ve had the pleasure of knowing two of you so you ain’t getting any sympathy from me - now get some rest, Jim, I don’t waste my good drugs for nothing.’ McCoy snapped the privacy curtain close and hurried to the bed that Jimmy Kirk had commandeered, rolling his eyes. Checking through the monitors and confirming that Jimmy wasn’t disturbing the young Vulcan, he grudgingly admitted that the kid wasn’t doing any harm; besides a hand on Spock’s shoulder, Jimmy slept in a pose that kept firmly away from his friend’s form, to prevent jostling or pressure being put on any body part.
‘Well, I’ll be damned…’ McCoy muttered under his breath. Spock’s vitals were actually better with Jimmy’s presence and improving steadily - at this rate, the young Vulcan would be awake in just three or four days. Satisfied for the moment, he wandered back to his waiting patients in Ward 3.
part nineteen
Link to other parts
‘Emergency Medical Override, authorization McCoy nine-seven-seven-zeta-lima.’
The computer chirped as it processed his voice and code, before the door opened with a hiss.
Leonard McCoy braced himself for anything as he entered the dark quarters holding his breath, trying not to disturb the cloistered sense of quiet inside the dark room. Standing there by the open door, his eyes scoured the room. Nothing moved. Taking out the medical tricorder he’d picked up from one of the Emergency First Aid units along the way, he switched it on and scanned the room, squinting at the display before his eyes flicked around the room once more. Two human bio-signs; McCoy almost sighed in relief - so Jimmy was here, he was just doing a very good job of hiding. The tricorder beeped softly in light musical tones.
‘Jim…?’ McCoy said then mentally shook himself; this wasn’t Jim. He lowered his voice, not wanting to spook the kid. ‘Jimmy, it’s me, Doctor Leonard McCoy, remember me?’
There was no response. Damn. He could force the issue but the kid might just take off again, and - well, Jim did drive a car off a cliff when he was about ten years old. At thirteen…
‘Look I know you’re in here. You can’t hide from a tricorder.’
McCoy switched the tricorder off and put it down on a nearby alcove. He had a feeling that he could scream his lungs out and Jimmy wouldn’t come out unless he wanted to. If he was any kind of decent friend, he knew that he should be able to get the kid to come out of hiding; after all, this was a younger version of Jim, and he’d been analyzing the crazy bastard for the last five years. There were differences - for one thing, Jimmy freely expressed his emotions, something which the young captain would have a hard time doing. Despite Jim’s smiling, teasing, scowling and brooding, McCoy suspected that more than half of that was just bullshit.
Well, there’s an understatement… he’s your regular Mr. Act Naturally…
But there were some things that were universal: Jim didn’t talk about his problems, never had, and McCoy had a sneaking suspicion that the boy didn’t like talking about his problems either. He stepped forward and let the door close behind him, and manually turned the lights on. The room was washed in warm mellow orange lighting. It was a rather unusual and vintage shade, but McCoy supposed that Jim had gotten used to old-fashioned lighting back home in Iowa and felt most comfortable in it. He hoped that this brought some kind of comfort to Jimmy too.
‘There were a lot of people looking for you, you know, you had me worried…. Now I don’t blame you for running… some of the things you’ve seen, hell I’d be likely to run off myself. But it’s been four hours and it’s high time you come out now.’
No one ducked out from the shadows. He wondered if a different tactic was in order. Jim was stubborn as a mule sometimes, but he always had one major weakness - people and that damn mile-wide compassionate streak of his. McCoy knew that this was almost underhanded but dammit, the kid needed to go back to Sickbay for a proper check up.
‘Now I know you’re probably thinking that you can’t trust us, but it’s okay Jimmy, I promise you - we’re a Federation vessel and we won’t do anything to hurt you or your friend, Spock, okay?’
There was a terse silence and McCoy wondered if he had gotten it wrong when a nearby ventilation grille clicked from its placement and clattered to the floor. Jimmy gave him a wide-eyed look, his body unfolding swiftly as he staggered out, worry clear on his face. Mention Spock and then suddenly he’s all ears… McCoy barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. At least some things never changed - Jimmy was loyal to a fault and exploitable on that point.
McCoy blinked at the sight of Jimmy in proper lighting, his face clean of grime from Chapel’s attentions and showing off bruises and discoloration in startling clarity. What had seemed like just a nasty black-eye with a bit of swelling had been cleaned to show layers of abuse and half-healed tender flesh, lines of dotted maroon where the skin had broken. All his feelings from when he’d first found young Spock and Jimmy returned with a vengeance, making him almost sick.
‘Good God!’ He gasped, because despite what his initial tricorder scan had revealed, he hadn’t really prepared himself for the sight.
‘Spock!’ Jimmy stammered loudly in a shout, blue eyes flashing with worry. ‘Is he okay? You were in surgery with him! Is he-?’
‘Woah! Hey kid, calm down - let me have a look at you okay!’ McCoy frowned and held his hands up to placate the boy, determined to get Jimmy back to Sickbay - now! When he reached out to touch Jimmy, the boy shrugged his arm off with a wild shout and spun away sharply to avoid him.
‘Tell me about Spock! Is he okay?’
He eyed the pensive expression of the boy’s face, noting the tenseness of the knees and thighs, and the hunch of his narrow shoulders. Posed like a terrified rabbit ready to bolt…
‘If I tell you, will you come back to Sickbay?’
Breathing hard, Jimmy Kirk glared at him. ‘What happened to Spock?’
Doctor Leonard McCoy took a deep breath and held back his automatic demand that the kid listen to his elders for his own goddamn good and come back to Sickbay now, sensing that the harder he pulled, the harder Jimmy would resist.
‘You’d know if you hadn’t run off,’ he said quietly, ‘but he’s going to be just fine… you know it would be good if someone could go sit with him.’
‘You telling the truth?’
‘Yes,’ McCoy grumbled, feeling a burst of soft affection at the no-bullshit expression on the boy’s face. ‘He’s just fine, that Vulcan metabolism just doesn’t know when to quit - now will you come down to Sickbay?’
Jimmy stared at him for a long moment, his eyes strangely hard for a kid and he could almost see the cogs spinning behind those familiar yet alien blue eyes. ‘He got it wrong.’
‘What?’
‘Nero,’ Jimmy growled, in a tone darker than what the doctor was used to coming out of a thirteen year old kid’s mouth. ‘He said that I’d have an exemplary service record on the Farragut, before being transferred to the Enterprise as the Captain. He said that Spock and I would be best friends, but Spock marooned me on a planet for attempted mutiny!’
A quick glance to the left showed that someone had touched Jim’s computer terminal, the screen skewed at an odd angle. ‘Have you been reading the Ship’s Log?’ He asked sharply.
There was a defiant tilt to Jimmy’s chin, ‘It’s not hacking if it recognized my voice.’
A surge of relief went through McCoy at the familiar sass in that voice. Oh it was a higher pitch but the intonation and snippy edge was Jim Kirk all the way and drove him absolute peanuts. Eying the boy’s defensive pose, he approached carefully and gave the kid a wry smile. ‘Then you know that Starfleet sent us. We’re good guys, Jimmy, we’re here to take care of you and Spock, get you boys home safely. I know you’re confused but you can trust us, right?’
From the way that the kid stared at him with steel in his eyes, the verdict was still out on that one. ‘My dad… that man… that was me wasn’t it?’
McCoy nodded reluctantly. There wasn’t any point in keeping Jimmy from the truth. Dammit the kid had already accessed the Ship’s Logs, who knew what other classified information Jimmy had perused. A sensible part of him, somehow able to stand back from this entire goddamn mess and see with objectivity, joked about the slings their asses would be in for this monumental cock-up.
‘This ship is the USS Enterprise NCC-1701, commissioned in 2258 as the flagship of the 9th Fleet.’ Jimmy Kirk said in a small tight voice, ‘These are my quarters. The cabins next door belong to a Commander Spock and a Lieutenant Commander Scott. You are Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief Medical Officer.’
‘Sounds like you got me figured out.’
Swallowing thickly and visibly reigning in whatever reaction he might have had, the boy glanced away. ‘Why are you even here?’
There was restrained emotion in the boy’s voice and McCoy felt a deep pang of the same helplessness as when he’d stood on that porch in Iowa and was told that Jimmy Kirk was dead. Like a switch had been flicked inside him, Jimmy Kirk changed before McCoy’s eyes; he wasn’t a patient or even the objective of a mission, he was a boy. Jimmy was alive but he had had been taken from his home, mistreated, starved and terrorized, all because of what he could one day become. That was a whole other level of hatred. ‘You were never meant to go through this. We’re here to preserve the timeline, and that means getting you back home, son.’
Jimmy’s hands were fisted by his sides and his face was completely blank, even though his eyes were burning brightly with a fierce swirl of emotions. ‘You guys came back from the future to stop the Romulans, didn’t you? Why didn’t you go back further? Why didn’t you!’
McCoy shook his head, because God did Jimmy think that he hadn’t thought about this himself? It was practically the first thing he thought about when being issued with this damn mission! They could stop the Kelvin from losing most of its 800 crew and give Jim a childhood with his dad…. Yeah, they could stop the Narada from destroying the Kelvin, but why stop there? They could do better - they could stop Tarsus IV from ever happening. But that way led to craziness, hubris…
‘Dammit Jimmy, we couldn’t. Our mission wasn’t-’
‘But you just said!’ The boy cried, ‘You’re here to preserve the timeline! Why didn’t you stop everything he did! Make things the way they were supposed to be!’
Air rushed out of the doctor’s lungs, as his mind suddenly went back to the conversation a week ago, when the year was still 2260. Jim had tracked him down after a confidential meeting with Spock over their latest mission, demanding a drink and McCoy had broken out that bottle of Saurian brandy he’d been saving up for an occasion. Going back in time wasn’t the occasion he had been hoping to drink to but Jim had needed it…. And what Jim had said… Bones, we could stop everything Nero did… make things the way they’re supposed to be.
The conversation came back to him in full detail. Yeah, they could stop the Kelvin’s destruction. Hell, they could stop the events of Tarsus IV, save the lives of four-thousand innocent colonists. But then important legislation regarding the colonization process made by the Federation Council in response to Tarsus IV might never happen, and maybe further down the line more than four thousand people would have to die before the same safety measures were put in place.
The way things were meant to be?
FUCK, the Enterprise might not have even been built tough enough to go against Klingon warships head-to-head, if it weren’t for all the advances that had been made due to the Kelvin disaster, advances in emergency protocol and defense technology that had saved countless Starfleet officers through the years - and if they saved the Kelvin, who knew what would happen? What gave them the damn right?
‘Because!’ McCoy snapped, ‘We can’t, kid! You know the damn rules! We stop that one thing and then what do we do? Run around the whole damn Federation to stop events from happening? What gives us the right to decide what should and shouldn’t happen? Who the hell do you think we are?’
A flash of surprise went across the child’s face, furious and heartbroken and just as quickly hid itself behind the trembling clumsy mask that he had seen before on another face, perfected with anger and coldness. A quick flash of reproach went through McCoy for the harshness of his tone, because this wasn’t Jim, this was a fucking kid, who was lost and hurt and angry.
‘If you’ve come back to stop Nero, then why not my dad? Why not him?’ Stepping forward, Jimmy Kirk glared at him flashing between desolation and anger, hands clumsily fisting into McCoy’s Starfleet jersey. ‘He never should have died! He’s supposed to be alive, but the Romulans killed him - you could have stopped that! Just him! Don’t I-’ the boy choked, ‘-don’t I deserve - don’t I…!’
Leonard McCoy swallowed as the fierce look on the boy’s face melted into an imploring look, bordering on absolute desperation. He tightened his hold on Jimmy’s shoulder, urging the boy to look at him. ‘Of course you do but- of course we wanted to but- but it doesn’t work like that, son… I’m sorry.’
Wrapping his arms around Jimmy, he gave the boy a fierce hug and felt more than heard the boy screaming his frustrations against his ribs, bony body stiff against his larger frame. There was a choked sob and then the boy’s face was buried in his side, trying to hide as he hiccupped and gasped for air. Vaguely he wondered why kids always insisted on rubbing snot and tears all over his shirt. The peace lasted for a short few minutes and then Jimmy was struggling against him.
‘Shh…’ He said gruffly and held the kid tight, almost smothering the kid against his uniform. Brushing the hair from Jimmy’s forehead, he laid a heavy palm over the kid’s skull. ‘Shhh…. It’s okay, kid, you’re good, Spock’s good-’
‘And my mom…?’ Jimmy croaked against his chest.
He paused, his lips pursed.
‘She’s crazier than ever.’ There was a choked laugh against him, and the doctor peered down at the crown of dark blonde hair, relieved that it had been the right thing to say. ‘She’s waiting for you at home, you know.’
Abruptly, Jimmy sagged against him, hangs digging into his flesh almost painfully as his knees just seemed to give out as he gasped and choked for air, his sobs turning ragged. McCoy swallowed at the abrupt change from disgruntled distress to this anguish. It felt strangely natural to hoist the kid up into a bear hug but almost immediately he felt Jimmy stiffen and begin to squirm. Worry gave him the strength to carry Jimmy to the bed and settle him down. The boy curled instinctually into a tight ball, clutching at the blankets and hiding. McCoy reached out and stroked the kid’s hair like he would for Joanna when she was ill and wondered at the sight of someone he knew so well, so young and so raw, yet still attempting to push people away.
‘Jimmy,’ he said softly, hand hovering over the hem of the boy’s tunic, ‘I’m going to lift up your shirt, and have a look at you, okay?’
The boy twisted away from him and burrowed further into the blankets, shoulders shaking in dry silent sobs. McCoy slowly drew up the tunic, revealing pronounced rib bones and reddish dark bruises deepening at places. The sight made him wince. Despite Jim’s insistence that Jimmy wasn’t him, in many ways Jimmy was exactly the same.
---
Planet-side: Earth, Starfleet Academy, year 2246
Commander Christopher Pike stalked through Starfleet Academy towards the shuttle hangar, a PADD in his hand and a deep frown stretched across his face. He’d received the orders this morning, and like a domino effect, all his classes were rescheduled to another teacher, that survival training exercise he’d been planning to Australia was cancelled - just thinking about the planning gone to waste pissed him off - and no one would tell him anything except that these were official orders. Pike hoped so because if this was somehow an elaborate joke, someone was going to get an earful.
He saw her as soon as he entered, surrounded by a hive of activity as yeoman, petty officers and engineers rallied for her attention, commodore’s pin at her collar and her hair pinned high on top of her head. Striding towards her, he glared at the yeoman who cast him a curious glance and didn’t stop until he was directly next to her.
‘This had better not be a joke.’
Winona Kirk didn’t turn from her perusal of the PADD that a nervous yeoman held out to her, his eyes flicking to Pike and then back before arriving upon the PADD and staying there, obviously deciding that whatever was going on between the two senior officers, he did not want to get involved.
‘Chris, how lovely to see you again -’ Winona said distractedly, tapping at something on the PADD screen, ‘There’s an error with item no. 25, I asked for 500 units, not 50 - get it fixed.’
There was a hurried “Yes, sir” before the yeoman was gone, hurrying away towards the Starfleet Requisitions Office. A young engineer took his place with a glance of curiosity at him, bearing a PADD which she held out to Winona for inspection.
‘Winona, what the hell is going on?’ He said tersely in a low voice, not wanting to attract attention with all of the yeoman and engineers swarming around the place. ‘These orders are ridiculous. I did not ask for this.’
Winona rolled her eyes and taking the stylus from the young woman, signed off on the Engineering request and spinning on her heel, heading swiftly for the other end of the hangar deck. ‘You wanted to get involved, Chris, well here’s your chance - you’re officially involved.’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Pike followed the woman with an exasperated expression.
When he had caught Winona Kirk yesterday at the Academy’s main café he had hinted not to subtly that he would be open to information about their two guests’ whereabouts and fate. Winona had artfully dodged his questions with innuendo and teasing, and when he had pressed her, she had told him that if he really wanted more information, then he should wait until tomorrow. It was tomorrow now, and he’d woken up to find himself under orders to report to Commodore Kirk for immediate mission’s dispatch. To say that it was brief and uninformative was an understatement.
‘Chris, I doubt even you know what you meant,’ Winona said with an unladylike snort, ‘but you wanted to know. This is the only way that was going to happen. I’m shipping out in an hour, taking the Douglas, the Saltash and the Narvik this time, and heading out to the Beta Quadrant.’
‘And I’m going with you?’
‘Of course, come on we need to do one last check-up.’ Winona flashed a grin back at him before grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the medical facilities attached to the shuttle hangar. There was a doctor waiting for her, who immediately called for assistance from a nurse.
‘Take off your uniform, Commander.’
Pike gave a huff of annoyance but did what the doctor requested. A hypospray was decompressed against the side of his neck with a hiss and a pinch of pain before he even realized what was happening. The Commander grimaced and rubbed at his neck - damn he hated those things.
Seated on a biobed with her jacket undone awaiting her own shots, Winona Kirk gave him a bemused grin. ‘You haven’t changed your mind have you?’
‘No,’ Pike grunted as another hypo was emptied into his upper arm without any warning. He’d been dragged into this mess by helping Jim and McCoy escape. He was involved already, from the moment he picked those men up from Riverside and thrown their ass into detention. Besides, arguing with Winona Kirk was the kind of stupid that even Pike didn’t have.
‘Good,’ she gave him a small nod of approval before flashing him a wicked grin followed by a wince as the last of her shots were administered, ‘it wouldn’t do you any good - once I get you, I keep you.’
Winona re-did her jacket and hopped off the biobed before leaving the medical facility at the same pace she entered, with a short “come on”. Pike followed with a nod at the doctors. According to the public records, there were three ships due to ship out today and several departments were in full frenzy trying to ready the vessels for departure. Pike wondered what the rush was and tensed as a stray thought came to him - the attack on Tau Ceti was only two days before, and the assailant had been an unidentified vessel, perhaps even the same unidentified vessel that Jim had spoken of.
‘What exactly is this mission?’
For the first time since he had arrived, she turned and faced him to speak. ‘Full debriefing in an hour, all senior officers to meet in Briefing Room 3 aboard the Douglas - congratulations, Commander,’ Winona gave him a sly wink, ‘You’re to assume command of the USS Saltash for the duration of this mission. See you on the bridge, now if you’ll excuse me…’
Spinning on her heel, the woman walked away and almost immediately, was hailed by a passing crewman waving a PADD along with two petty officers from the Science department, clamoring for her signature and her attention regarding one issue or another. Christopher Pike took a deep brief breath and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into now, before going to the nearest computer terminal and looking up his ship.
----
Helaspont Nebula: USS Enterprise, year 2246
The corridors of the Enterprise were dark, lit with emergency lights in the floors and running along the side of the walls. McCoy kept his arm steady around Jimmy’s narrow shoulders and herded the boy through the corridors. Chapel had given them a look when they arrived back in Sickbay but wisely decided not to speak, especially when the kid had all but run over to the ward where they were keeping young Spock.
‘Doctor,’ Chapel said sotto voce, sliding up next to him.
‘Nurse,’ he replied in the same low-tone.
‘Is he going to be okay?’ She asked, frowning at the boys.
McCoy folded his arms and exhaled with satisfaction at the sight of Jimmy, standing by young Spock’s bedside and reaching out to gently touch the Vulcan on the arm, a wary expression on his face. ‘He’ll be just fine, as fine as anyone can be under the circumstances.’
He doubted somehow that Jimmy knew any other way to be except to keep walking and smiling. It was something about Jim that he had long admired, and somewhat pitied. McCoy hated to admit this but watching the kid interact with his unconscious friend was almost soothing, compared to the chaos of the last few days. A young Spock and a young Jim together in these surroundings, the familiar trappings of Sickbay, was almost… well, to tell the truth he had no idea what this was, other than strange.
‘Give him another ten minutes.’ McCoy said, uncomfortably watching as Jimmy started rearranging young Spock’s floppy fringe, his Vulcan hair-cut having grown out in the months they had been aboard the ship. It was strangely intimate, and - he took a sharp breath - a little too surreal for his taste.
The ship’s intercom chose at that moment to whistle loudly, signaling that the Bridge was calling - from the Captain’s chair no less. “Bridge to Sickbay, come in.”
McCoy shared a look with Chapel at the terseness of Uhura’s voice. ‘McCoy here, what is it Lieutenant?’
“Sir we’ve just picked up the Hendrik Lorentz on long-range scanners. They’re entering the nebula expanse and will be docking in fifteen minutes - they’ve requested that Sickbay be prepared to receive them.”
McCoy frowned at that and already his mind careened ahead, to what possibly could have happened when those crazy fools had run off to play cowboys. Dammit, he mentally swore - couldn’t Jim have given him more warning than fifteen minutes? That was just enough time to get a team together and head down to the hangar. ‘Do you have any details, Lieutenant? Anything that could give us an idea of what we should expect?’
“No, I’m sorry, doctor - there was too much interference, we were only able to get a brief burst before losing the transmission.”
McCoy nodded though the woman couldn’t see him and mentally braced himself to clean up after whatever stunt Jim had pulled now. ‘Okay, thanks for the heads-up, Lieutenant. McCoy out.’
Turning to face Chapel, he met the woman’s terse look with a weary nod, ‘I want you to prep for surgery, ICU, everything you hear? Get M’Benga back in here, and do what you have to do if the patients are human or Vulcan - get me Essex and Nar… get out a gurney.’
He didn’t bother to explain the rest. There was work to do.
---------
Orbit above Benzar - USS Bendigo, year 2246
‘Return to Starbase 10? We just got here!’
Captain Robert April jumped up from his chair and stalked around the bridge till he was by the communication terminals, a deep frown on his face. His primary communications officer didn’t answer, his eyes riveted upon the screen as he decrypted their latest dispatch from Command, coming in hot and fast.
‘Sir I’ve checked and double checked - the first part of the message is clear: we are ordered to return to the Command Chief of Sector 6, pending further orders.’ His chief communications officer said tersely, not looking up from the screen as he continued to read through the details of their dispatch.
‘Well did they give a reason?’ At the shake of the head, he turned to look over the other communication officers, ‘can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?’
Being a captain well into middle-age and overdue for a desk appointment, April took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, he’s gone through this type of thing before. It wasn’t often that Starfleet Command gave orders that were completely insane, but there was always a damn good reason - they didn’t travel an entire two days to Benzar just to turn around and head back to Starbase 10!
‘I’m getting Starfleet comm. Captain.’ Marquardt reported from the secondary station into the quiet of the bridge, a terse frown upon her narrow face. No one breathed.
‘New information, Lieutenant?’
The young Nigerian gave her console a perplexed look, and began to dial through frequencies. ‘Yes sir. All nonessential travel’s been suspended, and ships are being recalled to Starbases all over.’
Commander Diamond spun around and shook his head, hand covering his ear piece. ‘I can confirmed the Lieutenant’s report; the USS Spiegelman, USS Niger, USS Capella and the USS Deneva are all returning to report in at their designated Sector Command. They’re building up the fleet, sir.’
The news cast a chill through the bridge.
For months there had been rumors about Romulan vessels disregarding the Neutral Zone and crossing freely into Federation space. Then there had been sightings and random attacks by an unknown vessel which had hit Starfleet Altair shipyards as well as the one in the Vulcan system. Intelligence and Tactical both leaned towards the Romulans; sneaking hits on ship yards and civilian vessels didn’t seem to be a Klingon thing do. Then two days ago, a brutal and senseless attack had occurred in the orbit over Tau Ceti, believed to be the work of the same unknown vessel.
‘Is there going to be war?’
Robert April spun around, surprised by the new voice. Sarah gave him a sharp look, her lips a thin line which either meant she was angry or she was afraid. He had been so caught up with what was happening he had missed her entrance onto the bridge. He wondered how she’d known and when she had left Sickbay, before remembering that she was the Chief Medical Officer and that naturally, as Second Officer she would have been informed.
‘We hope not.’ But it looks like it, he thought with another frown. ‘Helm, set a course for Starbase 10, all deliberate speed.’
----------
Helaspont Nebula: USS Enterprise, year 2246
‘How’s Spock?’
Taking a deep breath in the immediate aftermath of the usual Sickbay chaos, Leonard McCoy ignored the question and gave the young Ensign he’d been treating for minor disruptor burns a slight smile, before leaving her to the care of the one of the nurses.
‘You’re a menace, you know that,’ He mumbled as he sidestepped the young captain and went on to the next patient, a Lieutenant Tamura. ‘So you've finally decided that your magical powers of pacing would be of greater use here annoying me then in front of the operating room doors.’
Jim gave him a dirty look, ‘How’s Spock?’
He didn’t know if he was relieved that Jim had come back from this impromptu “retrieval operation” with no major contusions in possession all his fingers and toes, or if he was annoyed that the man was making a nuisance of himself due to the lack of pain. ‘Which one? If we’re talking about the younger one, he’s asleep and going to be on bed rest for the next week, but nothing you need to worry about - and as for you, the other you has handholding duty.’
McCoy ignored Jim’s confused mutter on “what the hell is handholding duty” and went to a nearby cabinet for some new hypospray capsules. ‘On the other hand if you’re wondering about our Spock, the one who gives me headaches, he’ll be out of surgery in two hours - and no Jim, I should not be operating on him. I was just in an operation and my concentration is shot; M’Benga trained at the VSA so you can’t do better than him and in answer to your next question: yes Jim, you may have visitor rights, as long as you keep it to five minutes.’
Jim closed his open mouth with a click, shooting the older man a look of annoyance. ‘Okay, then I’ll just go back to my quarters and-’
‘The hell you are.’ Grabbing the man by the arm, McCoy dragged Jim to Ward 2 where he was keeping young Spock, wanting a little privacy. He didn’t believe for a second that Jim would actually return to his quarters and sleep - high on adrenalin and mission-focused, Jim would keep going until he burnt himself out. ‘Come on then, you need to get yourself looked over.’
‘Bones, I don’t have the time-’
Shoving Jim back onto a biobed in the corner, he ignored the man’s protests and picked up his medical tricorder and set it for Jim’s own personal baseline settlings; the captain’s health was one of the CMO’s priorities, and McCoy took that seriously. ‘You can make time, Jim; the debriefing can wait; we’re not in any immediate danger; Spock’s not out for another two hours, and the rest of the away team are being taken care of,’ he held up a hand when Jim opened his mouth to complain, ‘- and yes, they’ll be good enough for discharge in two hours.’
‘And Spock? When will he be cleared?’ Jim asked, shoving his hand out of the way when McCoy tried to hold the sensor closer for more detailed readings.
‘He’ll be back to harassing you within a week or so.’ He said gruffly, before switching to a regenerator and peeling off the temporary bandage that O’Connell had applied to a long thin cut on the man’s forehead. He tried to tilt Jim’s head to the left but was met with a flinty glare instead.
McCoy met the look and sighed quietly, his tone solemn despite the mocking words. ‘Jim, if Spock wasn’t fine, I’d kill myself within a week of dealing with your brand of crazy. Now shut up and hold still while I take care of this.’
Jim’s eyes searched his before the young captain took a deep breath and relaxed. McCoy squeezed Jim’s shoulder and felt a grudging respect. In times like this, he saw the best part of Jim, who would take ownership of a problem and throw himself at it until he had it conquered. Now all I’ve got to do is stop the fool from focusing on where he’s failed… He firmly turned Jim’s head to the left, running the regenerator’s soothing rays over the cut. Before his eyes, the skin began to heal and knit.
‘I hope you had fun, running off guns-blazing to rescue Spock.’
The younger man cast his eyes downward for the briefest second that would almost seem like an inconsequential gesture if McCoy had not known him for five long years. He read the look as amused, pensive, conflicted and maybe a little uncertain, but there was a small pleased smile on Jim’s lips hinting that his thoughts had shifted from the usual self-condemning if-only and could-have scenarios.
‘Of course,’ Jim shot him a familiar grin, ‘I read Spock the riot act.’
‘Uh-huh,’ McCoy drawled, pleased to see Jim’s mood pick up a little, ‘and let me guess - he reminded you that logic alone dictates his actions?’
‘Captain, I would not remind you that which you know so well.’ Jim quoted, in a passable Spock-voice, and they shared quiet chuckle before Jim’s eyes abruptly went to something over McCoy’s shoulder, a look of surprise flashing across his face quickly before bewilderment settled over his features, as if he’d seen something both fascinating and disconcerting. ‘Ah… Bones, is he supposed to be doing that?’
For a moment, he was going to ask Jim who he was referring to but then he turned. It was Jimmy, who had somehow gone from practicing hair-arrangement on young Spock to actually being on the biobed itself. The kid had crawled in and squeezed himself into the small space between the Vulcan’s body and the bed rails. Only a hand on his elbow stopped McCoy from storming over and telling the kid to get out of that bed right now.
‘Let it go, Bones.’
‘Should’ve known; I give him a hand, he takes a bed - you Kirks and your goddamn inability to follow rules!’ He muttered quietly with a glare in the young captain’s direction. Deciding that his talents could be better utilized than trading barbs with Jim, McCoy picked up a hypospray from a nearby cart and quickly loaded it. Jim eyed it suspiciously, ‘err Bones I’m not allergic to anything.’
‘Bullshit, you were on an alien ship - I am not going to be suffering a week from now because you caught some obscure strain of space flu. Now, hold still.’ Working from experience, he didn’t give Jim a chance to say no before stabbing the man in the thigh. There was a pained yelp and a hiss of displeasure. ‘I wish I didn’t know you.’
‘Well I’ve had the pleasure of knowing two of you so you ain’t getting any sympathy from me - now get some rest, Jim, I don’t waste my good drugs for nothing.’ McCoy snapped the privacy curtain close and hurried to the bed that Jimmy Kirk had commandeered, rolling his eyes. Checking through the monitors and confirming that Jimmy wasn’t disturbing the young Vulcan, he grudgingly admitted that the kid wasn’t doing any harm; besides a hand on Spock’s shoulder, Jimmy slept in a pose that kept firmly away from his friend’s form, to prevent jostling or pressure being put on any body part.
‘Well, I’ll be damned…’ McCoy muttered under his breath. Spock’s vitals were actually better with Jimmy’s presence and improving steadily - at this rate, the young Vulcan would be awake in just three or four days. Satisfied for the moment, he wandered back to his waiting patients in Ward 3.
part nineteen
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