Fic: "Engines of War" (2/?)
Title: "Engines of War"
Betas: taverl
Canon: ST:XI, STID
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Spock, Ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,838 for chapter 2
Warnings: Foul language, political situations.
Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry is God, Paramount Pictures is Pope, and this is the blasphemy of a wayward faithful. My geeky spirit is rich, but my purse is empty.
Summary: Admiral Marcus’s push for weaponization didn’t appear out of nowhere. Across the Federation and at home on Earth, a terrified population is calling for increased defenses and a stronger front through Starfleet. It will take a year to rebuild the Enterprise, but when the job is done, what will the ship and her mission come to? After he lost so much, after he learned the high price of warfare and militarization, Jim Kirk isn’t about to let them destroy everything he believes in, no matter what it costs him.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Chapter 2
“Welcome aboard, admiral.” Spock inclined his head at the admiral who was stepping down from the shuttle inside the badly damaged shuttlebay. “I had not anticipated your personal attention to the final debarcation procedures.”
Admiral Yee waved him down lightly as they fell into step as they walked away from the shuttle. Despite his modest stature and significantly grayed appearance, his stride was lively. “This is our flagship, Commander. More to the point, after everything that’s happened, it was about time someone paid a bit more attention to the details around here.”
“A logical course of action,” Spock replied neutrally. “Shutdown procedures are running within the expected timeline. In addition to critical damage to primary systems and the hull, there was significant internal damage from objects that were dislodged during the disruptions to the ship’s gravitational systems.”
“In other words, the ship got banged up from the inside when your artificial gravity went haywire.”
“Affirmative.”
Yee gave him a curious smile. “They warned me about you.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I believe one of our Doctor McCoy’s favorite phrases is applicable here: ‘I don’t want to know.’”
To his credit, Yee chuckled lightly. “Perhaps not. Also, rumor has it that every uninjured member of your crew down below has volunteered to assist in the recovery efforts across the damaged section of the city.”
Spock inclined his head, and recognized how proud the captain would be if he knew what his crew was doing. And, if pressed, Spock would admit that he was proud, too. “I have heard these rumors, and am unsurprised. The crew of the Enterprise may have its noted atypical behavioral patterns, but they are dedicated and selfless.”
“That they are,” Yee said with a smile. Then his expression sobered as they passed through the doors of the shuttle bay and into the corridor. “Is the captain awake yet?”
“Regrettably, no.” Spock meant that part. “The damage from the radiation exposure was extensive. His tissues will require significantly more cellular regeneration before Doctor McCoy is willing to awaken him.”
A turbolift opened in front of them, and they slipped inside. Before Spock could say anything, however, Yee said, “Sickbay.”
Spock kept his demeanor impassive. He wasn’t surprised. The likelihood that Yee would select that destination first had been 81.7%. Still, he needed to keep Yee focused. “Lieutenant Commander Scott is almost ready to provide an inspection tour of Engineering. Two-point-one hours ago, he provided an estimate of three hours until completion.”
“I certainly intend to tour the engineering facilities.”
A curious statement, considering that a tour of the engineering facilities had been the primary stated purpose for this visit. “Pardon me, admiral, but I must ask if there is an aspect of this visit that I have not anticipated.”
Admiral Yee gave him a sideways look. “Nothing so sinister, commander. The senior leadership simply wishes to get a more direct report on Captain Kirk’s medical condition.”
Spock tilted his head. “Was Doctor McCoy’s report insufficient?”
“No, it was quite thorough... but there is some curiosity regarding how he managed to survive such a severe radiation exposure.” Yee’s tone was light, but the words were damning.
“It appears to be what humans would call a miracle.”
“Vulcans talking about miracles? Now I’ve heard everything.” The turbolift stopped, but instead of getting out, the admiral said, “Computer, hold turbolift. Commander Spock, please be direct with me. Your report stated that Captain Kirk entered the warp core chamber and performed a manual realignment of the core housing. His actions saved the ship from crashing, but exposed him to a significant amount of radiation. Based on every model our people can come up with, your captain should be dead. Additionally, one of the cryo units appears to be missing. So, before we step into the medical facility, do you care to explain your miracle, commander?”
Some of his colleagues’ more colorful descriptive language crossed Spock’s mind. Of course, someone would have noticed the missing pod eventually. The confusion and chaos during the initial debarcation had bought them enough time to actually go through with their plan to revive the captain, but now they’d have to start explaining. “Perhaps it would be best to allow Doctor McCoy to explain.”
Yee gave him a cutting look. “Now why am I not surprised?” The door of the turbolift opened in front of him, and he strode out of the ‘lift and directly across the corridor into sickbay.
The medical facility was fairly quiet. Doctor Carlson was working on Ensign Rothe’s foot. Spock had already received the report of the storage container falling on his extremity. It was not a severe injury. Carlson looked up, but before she could say anything, Spock waved her down. “Do not interrupt your patient’s care, Doctor Carlson.”
“Aye, commander,” Carlson said curiously, then, “Admiral,” in acknowledgement.
“Doctor,” Admiral Yee replied, barely looking at her. “Where is Doctor McCoy?”
“In isolation room one right now,” she answered. “Keep going towards the back of sickbay. It’s the door on the left. You’ll have to wait for him to come out, though.”
Yee didn’t bother to thank her as he continued his path towards the back of the facility. They rounded the corner, and Yee stopped so suddenly that it appeared he had collided with an invisible barrier. Of course, had Spock not already seen this view, he might have wavered in his momentum as well.
The viewing window on isolation room one was depolarized, giving a full view of Doctor McCoy, dressed in complete isolation scrubs, gently changing the dermagel bandages on the captain’s face. Jim’s skin had begun sloughing off, and although the healthy cells were replacing the dead ones at an incredible rate, his physical appearance was currently quite shocking.
“Dear God,” Yee whispered, staring wide-eyed through the window.
“I admit to our use of the cryo unit,” Spock said evenly, realizing that such an admission was inevitable. “It halted cellular destruction long enough to give Doctor McCoy time to prepare a therapy that he would be better at explaining than I would. Still... the statistical likelihood of the captain’s recovery was low enough that it would not be wholly unreasonable to call this a miracle. He should indeed be dead. He may yet not survive.”
“Why didn’t you report the severity of the situation?” His voice was breathy with disbelief, and he was looking at Kirk, not at Spock.
Spock was observing the Admiral. “I believe Doctor McCoy’s report was an accurate representation of the captain’s injuries.”
“Nobody mentioned that he was probably dying.”
“As Captain Kirk is still alive, it would have been premature to declare that he was dying. Additionally, it could have created significant morale problems to admit such a thing at that juncture.”
Yee gave a dry chuckle. “A Vulcan worried about morale? You have been hanging out with humans for quite a while, haven’t you?”
Spock allowed himself to interpret the question as rhetorical - something he’d learned from the captain. “Morale is critical to the successful functioning of a starship crew. It is logical to foster good crew morale, especially when morale would be at its lowest. Additionally, I believe that McCoy’s report indicated quite clearly that Captain Kirk was severely injured, subjected to significant radiation exposure, and was being kept unconscious because he would be in severe pain if he was awakened.”
“Out cold.”
“Admiral?”
A sad smile ghosted across the admiral’s face, and he finally glanced up at Spock. “McCoy didn’t say that Kirk was unconscious. He said that he was ‘out cold.’ Kirk was in cryo at the time, wasn’t he?”
“He was.” It seemed sensible to offer just enough truth to make the story more enticing. Admiral Yee was looking for dirt. Now he had his ‘secret’ to bring back to Starfleet Command, and the captain was still alive.
Better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Jim had told him that once. Maybe, despite Spock’s misgivings at the time, that was true.
“He nearly sacrificed himself for the ship.” This time, Yee’s voice was oddly reverent. “He had to have known the risks going in there.”
“I am quite certain that he knew the risks, admiral,” Spock confirmed. “He spoke to me for a short time before he lost consciousness... while we waited for the decontamination cycle to run.”
“That must have been difficult. Waiting.”
Spock’s chest was suddenly feeling tight, and his eyes felt warm. He buried the sensation and squared his shoulders. “It was quite difficult.”
“That’s practically an admission of being frantic, coming from a Vulcan.” Then his tone changed. “Where’s the Augment from the missing cryo pod?”
There was no avoiding this admission. “He did not survive the reanimation process. I have read the doctor’s report. They attempted to stabilize him, but it would have been impossible. There was excessive tissue degradation prior to the reanimation process, and we suspect that the cryo pod did not maintain steady temperatures during long periods of cryostasis.”
Yee considered that for a moment. “In other words, he wouldn’t have survived no matter what conditions he was revived under.”
“Affirmative.”
“Then it’s not really your fault he’s dead. He was dead before you tried to revive him.” Yee sighed. “I’ll instruct the medical personnel overseeing the other pods to survey them for stability and see of the same thing happened to any of the other Augments. Either way... I can’t say that I blame you guys for any of this. Considering everything your crew has endured... I think we might be able to smooth this one out.”
“Sir?” Spock was about to elaborate on his query when Doctor McCoy stepped back from Kirk’s bedside and saw that he was being observed.
Behind the sterile mask, McCoy’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then, with a shake of his head, he set aside the debriding tool he was holding, moved into the isolation room’s airlock, activated the exit cycle, and stepped into the main part of sickbay.
“Admiral,” McCoy said with nod as he pulled back his mask, then his gloves. “Had to see for yourself, did ya?”
“I needed to check,” Yee answered simply. “This crew does have a short but colorful history of making up their own rules, and it seemed peculiar that nobody was allowed to see Kirk at all. Especially with the missing cryo unit.” His tone was casual, but the bait was dangling.
McCoy seemed to freeze for a moment, but then nodded slowly as he folded his arms across his chest. “Peculiar, sure... but... what can I say? We’re a bit protective of Captain Kirk. He... well, he protected us, and I wasn’t going to give up on him. It was a long shot, and we didn’t know if it would work, but it was the best chance we had. We only had him in cryo long enough to let us set up treatment, and then, we kept his core temperature at 15 Celsius until the stem cell therapy took hold. And then, even if it worked, I knew that the recovery process would be... well... you can see for yourself. He’s a mess. So with all that going on, we couldn’t just put him on display to a bunch of brass when we don’t even know if he’ll pull through.”
“Will he?” Admiral Yee’s question was pointed.
McCoy sucked in a rapid breath, then blew it out while shaking his head. He shrugged. “We got him into cryo before there was too much cellular breakdown, and we managed to initiate a modified Sanger Protocol while he was still low-temperature. He had a bit of a reaction to the treatment, but it’s holding. He’ll be on total parenteral nutrition until his digestive tract rebuilds itself, and his immune system is almost nonexistent, but... for what he was exposed to... he has a better chance than he should have. And if anyone can beat the odds, it’s Kirk.”
“He does seem to have that track record.” Yee looked through the viewing window for a moment, then back at McCoy. “How long until you feel that it would be safe to move him?”
“Honestly?” McCoy scrubbed the palm of his hand over his jaw. His stubble was slightly longer than regulation allowed. “It would be best to keep him for another week without shuffling him around, but if that’s not possible, I want his skin healed over and his white blood cell count to be at least 50% of normal before we move him.”
“Presuming he survives at all,” Yee said, his tone questioning.
“Around here, admiral, we always presume a patient will survive,” McCoy replied sharply.
Yee gave Spock a curious look.
“Based on Doctor McCoy’s track record, such a presumption is not only warranted, but essential.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I’ll be damned. Is that a compliment, Spock?”
“A mere statement of fact, doctor.”
Before McCoy could respond, the admiral chimed in.
“Actually, McCoy, your reputation does precede you. The work you did on Admiral Pike didn’t go unnoticed. They said anyone else would have lost him, or left him a quadriplegic. If anyone could pull Kirk through this, I’d guess it would be you.”
Despite the glowing compliment, a look of dark anger quickly overtook McCoy’s expression. “With all due respect, admiral, now isn’t the time to talk about Admiral Pike.”
Yee frowned. “I only meant that your skills were well-respected. I didn’t realize you and Pike were close.”
McCoy hunched his shoulders in a manner that Spock knew indicated defensiveness in the man, but before the doctor could say anything else, Spock turned to face the admiral. “Doctor McCoy has been under severe emotional distress over the past several days, and I am aware that he has not partaken in adequate rest cycles.”
“I can see that,” Yee said dryly. “But it’s to be expected, under the circumstances.”
McCoy snorted softly. “Yeah. I think we could all use a bit fewer circumstances around here.”
Suspecting that McCoy might be too emotionally unstable and physically exhausted to know when to back down, Spock cut in again before either the doctor or the admiral could continue the discussion. “Admiral, you have seen the captain for yourself, and I assume you have accurately deduced why we wish to minimize his exposure to viewing by third parties at this time.”
To Spock’s relief, Admiral Yee merely nodded. “He deserves that much respect.” Then, his posture shifted, just slightly. “Your captain risked everything for the ship. And while you should have reported your use of the cryo unit... I see why you did it, and I can’t personally fault you for it. There will still be an inquiry, but considering everything that’s happened, I think we can keep there from being too harsh of a punishment. I think all of you have been through enough.” He glanced back at Kirk through the window of the isolation room, cringing slightly. “I don’t know how he’s alive, but sometimes, it’s good enough that a person is.”
“That’s just James T. Kirk for you,” McCoy grumbled.
Spock thought he detected an unusual undertone in McCoy’s voice, but if he did, the admiral didn’t seem aware of it. “Indeed, Doctor.” Then, he turned to Yee. “Admiral, if I may, I would be pleased to escort you through the remainder of your inspection.”
The admiral complied easily enough, and they both turned to leave sickbay. At the door, however, Spock glanced back over his shoulder to observe Doctor McCoy.
The doctor was staring at him with a look of desolation that was all too familiar, and for a man whose presence typically filled his domain of the medical facility with unyielding energy, he looked small and lost.
Spock decided to keep that observation to himself, and hurried to keep stride with the admiral as the doors to sickbay slid shut behind them.
*********
Leonard watched them go.
With a sigh, he pulled his mask back on, then his gloves. Jim’s bandages were only half-changed, and with the rate at which his tissues were simultaneously dying and regenerating, Leonard couldn’t let the task go undone.
He was about to step back through the airlock when he heard footsteps approaching.
“You know you can let someone else do some of that,” M’Benga said softly.
“Can I?” Leonard replied. “Geoff... it might not be sensible or rational, but none of this makes sense right now. I only know that I’ve got to see this through myself.”
“That way, if something goes wrong, all of the blame will land squarely on your shoulders.” M’Benga’s voice held a note of accusation, but it wasn’t unkind.
“I’m responsible for him.” As soon as he said it, he realized just how many layers of meaning he’d surrendered in four words.
M’Benga, however, just nodded slowly. “I understand. But when was the last time you slept?”
The question alone brought the raw exhaustion he’d been feeling to the forefront of Leonard’s awareness. He sighed heavily, feeling the puff of air bounce back against his cheeks inside his mask. “I slept last night.”
“How long?”
“As long as I could.”
M’Benga sighed. “I can come in there with you. Sorry I wasn’t there when you started this round of debridement, but I was working on someone.”
But Leonard shook his head. “I’ve got it. Really... just let me do this. When he’s out of the woods, I’ll be able to rest. But... this isn’t the first time he was at death’s door on my table.”
“He was beyond death’s door, Leonard.”
Leonard swallowed back a surge of nausea. “Yeah. That. Anyway, I can’t let this go. Please... just accept that.”
“I can accept it,” M’Benga said sympathetically. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I... thanks, Geoff... but this time, I do.”
“I understand.” He nodded back over his shoulder. “Just got a report of another sprain from the cleanup crew. I’ll go take care of that. You take care of Kirk... and yourself.”
“Will do.” He meant it. He really did.
With a reluctant nod, M’Benga walked away, and Leonard let himself into the airlock. The sterilization cycle powered up, and Leonard grit his teeth as the sonics vibrated across his skin. He should be used to this by now, considering how many times he’d gone in and out of the isolation room since yesterday, but it set his teeth on edge every time. Still, he wasn’t going to take any risks with Jim.
The cycle completed itself, and Leonard walked into the room. It was dead quiet except for the rush of air from the respirator and the hum of the antigrav bed. Normally, force field respiratory support was enough for patients, but with the amount of tissue damage, Jim actually needed an endotracheal tube to keep his airway open. It was a damned good thing he was unconscious - the kid would freak the fuck out if he woke up like that.
Of course, it would probably be at least another week before they’d let Jim out of the drug-induced coma anyway.
Leonard took a moment to look Jim over. Sure, he’d just been in there a few minutes ago, but every time he walked into the room, he needed to reassure himself with his own eyes that Jim was alive. And then, he needed to force himself to visually assess how bad the damage really was, like a form of self-punishment and a reality-check in one.
Khan’s miracle serum was damned potent and powerful, but it wasn’t magic.
Once they’d reestablished basic vital signs, Leonard had initiated a basic stem cell therapy that was commonly used in radiation poisoning patients. The healthy cells would adhere to the damaged tissues, dividing and replacing the damaged ones. It was probably redundant, considering the effects of the serum, but Leonard wasn’t taking any chances. Plus, he needed a legitimate medical therapy to document that might possibly explain Jim’s survival.
Even with the most optimistic projections, he’d known it would be messy, and it was. There was widespread cell destruction in addition to the regeneration. A simple injury or basic illness probably would have healed easily with Khan’s proteins. Severe radiation exposure was completely different. So many cells were damaged beyond repair, and they were dying almost as fast as they were regenerating. GI tract, lungs, and even blood vessels were inflamed and on the edge of falling apart. Maybe with Khan’s stronger overall physiology, the process would have been much more smooth, but Jim only had a select set of proteins to fight against the tide of death.
As awful as they were, at least Leonard had anticipated all those problems. However, because it was Jim, he should have expected the unexpected.
As soon as Jim’s immune system had started rebuilding itself, what had at first seemed like a minor reaction had turned into a full-on immunological rejection of the transfusion. Leave it to Jim Kirk to be allergic to the only thing in the universe that could save his sorry ass. So, on top of everything else, the kid was on a hefty cocktail of immunosuppressants. Between that and the fact that his skin was sloughing off, he was as susceptible to infection as if he had no immune system anyway. Maybe those fancy proteins in Khan’s serum would have some effect on bacteria and viruses, but there was no guarantee. In fact, nothing was guaranteed right now.
Between the immune reaction and the widespread cell destruction, Jim’s whole body was swollen. He looked like a burn victim. His lymphatic system was overloaded, even with the constant dialysis to remove the wastes. But... Jim was alive. Beyond all odds and medical knowledge. And hell, if they could just keep the rejection reaction under control long enough to let the proteins do their stuff and manage the general complications of the healing process, Jim could be completely healed in just a couple of weeks.
Leonard just hoped he wouldn’t have to explain that little miracle to the medical community.
He couldn’t worry about that for now. He had bandages to change.
“Computer, polarize the viewing window.” He didn’t need any more nosey officers intruding on Jim’s privacy when the kid was this vulnerable.
Gently, he pulled back the sheets covering Jim’s body. It was horrible - raw, red, peeling. “Dammit, Jim,” Leonard said softly.
He set back to work, debriding areas that were sloughing off, covering the exposed tissues with dermagel. It was messy work, and he could have had a tech do it, but this was a labor of love. He wasn’t going to abandon Jim now.
He was grateful that he’d insisted on the installation of an antigrav bed when the ship had been refitted after the Nero incident. Having Jim resting directly on such damaged skin would have been awful. However, the visual effect of seeing Jim floating just a few inches above the biobed, tethered to a dozen different pieces of equipment, was thoroughly unnerving. Sure, Leonard was a doctor, and he’d seen this sort of treatment for a patient plenty of times. It was just different seeing it with Jim.
“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, kid,” Leonard said aloud as he applied a long strip of dermagel to the lateral aspect of Jim’s thigh. “You’ve pulled some pretty spectacular stunts, but this? This took the cake, the icing, and even the goddamned candle on top.”
He reached for his sonic debrider and set to work on another section of skin. Jim didn’t even twitch as he worked the tool across the kid’s torso - still as death itself, except for the mechanical rhythm of the respirator breathing for him.
“I know why you did it. But... I... Jesus, Jim.” He shook his head to himself. He was getting distracted.
He worked in silence for about a half hour, keeping his mind blank and his hands busy until every patch of Jim’s body was covered with fresh, glistening dermagel. He’d have to do this again within twelve hours, but for now, the work was done.
Really, Leonard knew he should go write up his report and get some rest, but that wasn’t going to happen.
With the thin privacy afforded by the polarized window, he finally sat down and lightly touched Jim’s hand. He didn’t dare apply any more pressure for fear of disrupting the healing tissues, but he needed to connect with his best friend in a way that wasn’t purely medical.
Hell, he hadn’t actually stopped long enough to simply sit by Jim’s bedside yet. He’d been living in a constant whirlwind of applying one therapy, setting up another therapy, working in the lab, changing bandages, and reassessing vitals. And really, almost every time he’d been in the isolation room, another doctor, a nurse, or a medical assistant was in there with him. Thinking back to what M’Benga had said, he was starting to suspect it was intentional.
They really didn’t understand.
“Hey kid,” he tried to say softly, but to his dismay, his voice was already threatening to crack. He cleared his throat. “We need to stop meeting like this. The shuttle crash was bad enough. At least you were alive when I got you that time.”
Jim’s silence was deafening, but it was good that the kid was heavily sedated. If he’d been awake for any of it, even the best painkillers wouldn’t have been enough to spare him.
“I know why you did it. We all know. Hell, Jim... if the admiralty understood a goddamned thing about you, they wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest, but they’re a bunch of idiots who can’t see past your cocky facade. But I know you, kid. I watched you walk out into the middle of a battle two years ago on Araxis. I’ve watched you launch yourself into the black more than once with nothing but some wires and fancy cloth for protection because you needed to help people. And yeah, you were scared, but you never let it stop you, and you never let it show to anyone else. I never should’ve doubted you.”
Leonard cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re a good captain, Jim. It’s like you were made for this. You let yourself drown in these doubts of yours when you start thinking too much, but when the shit starts to fly, you’re a damned genius in that chair. Pike... told me what he said to you... and he was wrong. You did respect chair. You just didn’t believe that you were really good enough for it.” He opened his eyes and looked down at Jim’s swollen face. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when I... when I challenged you... when you took the captain’s chair on this ship for the first time.” He swallowed tightly. “I never told you how sorry I am for that. You just surprised me. You always surprise me.”
He gently brushed his fingers over the dermagel on the back of Jim’s hand. “Maybe, someday, you’ll stop surprising me. But until then... I guess I’m along for the ride.”
A beeping monitor caught Leonard’s attention, and he jumped up to check the readouts. Blood sugar and insulin levels were off, and it was no wonder. They’d been supplementing Jim’s insulin levels while his pancreas repaired itself, and his body was using a massive amount of sugar along with proteins and fats as it reconstructed damaged tissues. Quickly, Leonard increased the amount of glucose being infused and recalibrated the insulin levels to account for the fact that the kid’s pancreas was producing more insulin than it had been just an hour ago.
Unbelievable.
“Even when you’re out cold, you eat like a pig,” Leonard mumbled as he sat down heavily next to Jim’s bedside again.
As before, Jim was silent and still.
Leonard gently covered Jim’s hand with his own again, marveling at the warmth there... slightly feverish, actually, and so very different from the horrible coldness of the cryo unit.
An unwelcome image overlaid itself with the current view of Jim. Dead, in a body bag. Frozen in a cryo tube. So many levels of wrongness, but now, that just made the image of Jim alive seem like something wrong and perverse, like a mockery of life.
Leonard’s throat tightened a bit. “I always knew there’d come a day when I wouldn’t be able to pull you back from the brink, but... I don’t even know how to wrap my head around this shit. God damn... fuck... did I do the right thing, kid?” He tried to take a deep breath and failed. “Should humans be able to do something like this at all? I mean, sure, some people thought it was a crime against the natural order when they discovered artificial resuscitation a few hundred years ago. Some people even thought CPR and defibrillators were witchcraft. But this? This is something else altogether.”
He swallowed tightly. “What would you have wanted me to do, Jim? If it had been me on the table, and you were the doctor... what would you have done? I know you shattered the Prime Directive to save Spock, and I know you would have done the same for me... but would you violate the laws of nature?” He reached under Jim’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the kid’s pulse. “Or would you just tell me that even those rules are only guidelines?”
Even if Jim could have responded, Leonard wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He sighed. “Even when you wake up... I don’t know if I can tell you what I did. I don’t know if you could forgive me.”
The only response was the soft hiss of the respirator.
*********
The door to the observation deck slid open, and Spock followed Admiral Yee inside. After their departure from sickbay, the tour of the ship had been uneventful.
Although the observation deck had taken some damage, it was mostly superficial, and would provide an adequate location for continued discussion. Spock anticipated that the admiral would lay out a basic set of expectations, a timeline for complete evacuation of the crew, and a protocol for the official handover of the ship for long-term repairs.
“Have a seat, commander,” Yee said as he sat down at the head of the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Spock wanted to point out that he was already quite comfortable, but he’d learned that such instructions were rhetorical. He sat down and folded his hands across the scratched surface of the conference table. “I presume that you wish to lay out our final orders for decommissioning the Enterprise for repairs.”
To Spock’s surprise, Yee waved a hand dismissively. “You already know what to do. The final orders will arrive on your PADD within the next hour. However, I’ve got something a bit more pressing to discuss right now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Admiral?”
Yee sighed, then leaned heavily on the table. “You’re about to walk into a political nightmare, Spock. You and this whole crew.”
“Pardon me, but I do not understand why our crew would become entangled in a political situation.”
“Don’t play innocent, commander, even if you really have no idea what I’m talking about. You can’t afford to play innocent right now. I would have brought this to Kirk if I could have, not just because he’s the captain, but because if there’s one thing Kirk is good at, it’s maneuvering through bullshit. And you’re about to land in a pile of it.”
“To what sort of bovine excrement are you referring?”
At that, Yee cracked a burst of laughter. “And they said Vulcans don’t have a sense of humor.” Then he composed himself. “You know that Starfleet has had a few political hot-button issues since the Narada. We’ve been able to keep most of it away from our missions and our exploratory vessels, but after this, we might not.”
Spock frowned slightly. “I do not believe I understand your focal point for this discussion.”
“Then I’ll be blunt. Militarization, commander.” A deep frown furrowed Yee’s face. “Although we suspect that Marcus’s research and development program went beyond the scope for which it was intended, and that there was very limited awareness of its existence outside of the program itself, it did have approval at the highest levels.”
“It had approval? If I might ask, from whom?”
“You can ask, but I really can’t tell you. Use your best guess, Mr. Spock.” The admiral’s shoulders slumped just a little bit. “A program like that can’t exist without being sanctioned, even if people on the outside don’t actually know what’s happening on the inside. We knew there was research... but... I might as well tell you this much: we didn’t know he already had a functional ship. As I said, it was only supposed to be a research and development program.”
“That is a significant amount of development.”
“Well, yes, you could see it that way. He had a lot of resources at his disposal - materials and people. He was able to get what he wanted without much resistance. Starfleet gave him a carte blanche for his pet project because they thought it was for the best. Our populations are uneasy, and want reassurance that we can protect them. We weren’t ready for the Narada, and that set a bad precedent.”
Spock considered this carefully, but replied quickly. “As you speak of precedent, it must be observed that encountering a foe from the distant future, armed with advanced and unknown technologies, was unprecedented. It would have been impossible to predict that event, and as such, our forces could not be expected to be ready for such an onslaught.”
“See, that would be the rational way to look at it,” Yee said sadly. “But that’s not how humans think. What people saw with the Narada was a threat that almost wiped them out after successfully destroying our ally’s home planet, and it was little more than sheer dumb luck that allowed us to stop them. If a threat like that could happen once, it could happen again.”
The admiral leaned back in his chair, and for the first time since he’d come onboard, he looked old. “We spent the last year playing damage control with the media. We’ve fielded hundreds of demands from Federation members, colony worlds, and outposts, all wanting additional protection. We tried to reassure them that something like that wouldn’t happen again.”
“But it did not happen again,” Spock interjected. “And it would be unlikely to do so. This indicates that your reassurances were correct.”
“And there you go, being logical again.” Yee shook his head. “Commander, we just had a ship crash into a major city, barely missing the heart of Starfleet Headquarters, destroying part of the Academy grounds, and killing thousands of people in the city itself.”
“And this ship was first commanded by a corrupt Starfleet admiral,” Spock replied, “and then by a sentient weapon of our own making. This was not an external threat.”
Yee looked at him imploringly. “Do you really think we can tell people that?”
“It would be the truth.”
“And the truth would be a hundred times more damning than the fiction that people are already spreading around the media rumor mill.” Yee’s eyes bored into him. “If we tell them that we can’t even keep our population safe from our own people... if we tell them that one of our most senior officers attacked our own flagship and tried to execute Captain Kirk and his crew... if we tell them that secret Starfleet research facilities were playing with living relics from the Eugenics wars... what do you think would happen?”
Spock rapidly let all the possible scenarios play out in his mind, and to his dismay, they never ended well.
Admiral Yee nodded slowly. “You see? We can’t give them the truth.”
“What rumor do they believe now? And what will Starfleet’s official statement be?”
“Currently, the top rumor is that John Harrison, an ex-Starfleet officer with a chip on his shoulder, went rogue after the Narada. He was in research and development in engineering. He hid on Kronos, stole Klingon technology, and came back to Earth for a fight - a grudge-match against our senior leadership. When we sent our flagship to investigate, the Enterprise encountered a warship of mixed Klingon and Federation technology. The rest... you can probably guess.”
Spock considered this, then tilted his head in query. “Would this not create even greater concern regarding the possibility of imminent Klingon attack? And display the possibility of a more severe security breach?”
Yee shrugged helplessly. “Who knows, commander? It might, but our best and brightest in the think tank seem to think that this is the best story that the public would be willing to swallow.”
“Starfleet Command sees fit to propagate this rumor?”
Yee’s expression was noncommittal. “For now, we aren’t dispelling it. Our primary concern is that we do not allow the public to believe that Starfleet itself was compromised from within. That is essential.”
“And you want our crew cooperate in this ploy,” Spock filled in. He found the idea utterly distasteful. Logically, he could not foresee the results of this rumor being significantly better than revealing the truth.
“That’s an order, commander. For now, you don’t have to say anything unless you want to, but you will allow the public to believe that exact rumor. Only bridge officers are authorized to speak to the media, and they are to ensure that nothing they say will suggest that the compromise to Starfleet security went beyond one man named John Harrison.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “In that case, I will relay those orders to all crew members.” Then he furrowed his eyebrows. “But admiral, if I may ask... you said that the issue at hand is militarization. Can you please explain this further?”
Admiral Yee looked at him for a moment, then slowly closed and opened his eyes. “Marcus wasn’t the only one who wanted to militarize Starfleet. Sure, he had only been authorized to work on research and development, but that push didn’t come from nowhere. There has been an undercurrent throughout the Federation, but particularly on Earth and human colonies, of wanting to make exploration a secondary mission for Starfleet, and making military maneuvers - not just defense - into our primary mission.”
Spock openly frowned. “That would undermine Starfleet’s charter and mission, and the entire structure of our organization.”
“It would. But... at the same time... can you blame them?”
“The issue is not one of blame, admiral. I simply fail to see why militarization would appeal so strongly to a species that almost destroyed itself due to war in the past. This is why Vulcans will not turn back to the ways of war and aggression.”
“And, while you might not forgive me for this, commander, some very outspoken mouthpieces on Earth are saying that’s part of why Vulcan is gone.”
A flash of hot anger threatened Spock’s composure, but he held it back. If such things were being said, it was better that he be aware of them, and anger would not serve him. “No forgiveness is needed; you simply informed me of the fact that some individuals are making this insinuation.”
Yee grimaced, but nodded. “Most folks wouldn’t say so, but I respect that you can see it that way right now.”
Then, the admiral turned his chair and gazed out the observation deck’s broad viewport. Through it, they could see the broad structure of the space station where they were docked. There were EV crews already working on the secondary hull. The ship would be rebuilt, and for now, they were safe. Then Yee spoke again.
“You can educate a society, eliminate poverty and scarcity, and create a world of peaceful, industrious citizens... but you can’t erase human nature. Our people watched the destruction of their neighbors’ planet last year, and this year, they watched a strange ship crash into one of our major cities. They saw buildings go down in a pile of flames and rubble. They watched thousands of people being crushed to death. There’s no logic in that, Commander Spock, and there will be no logic in the reaction to it. People want somewhere to focus their anger. They want to take action, even if they’re striking out blindly. They want someone to blame, and they want a fight. This has all happened before, and history is known for repeating itself.”
Yee finally looked turned away from the viewport and looked back at Spock, and his expression was grim. “The engines of war, commander. Do you smell the smoke?”
*********
Betas: taverl
Canon: ST:XI, STID
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Spock, Ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 6,838 for chapter 2
Warnings: Foul language, political situations.
Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry is God, Paramount Pictures is Pope, and this is the blasphemy of a wayward faithful. My geeky spirit is rich, but my purse is empty.
Summary: Admiral Marcus’s push for weaponization didn’t appear out of nowhere. Across the Federation and at home on Earth, a terrified population is calling for increased defenses and a stronger front through Starfleet. It will take a year to rebuild the Enterprise, but when the job is done, what will the ship and her mission come to? After he lost so much, after he learned the high price of warfare and militarization, Jim Kirk isn’t about to let them destroy everything he believes in, no matter what it costs him.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One
Chapter 2
“Welcome aboard, admiral.” Spock inclined his head at the admiral who was stepping down from the shuttle inside the badly damaged shuttlebay. “I had not anticipated your personal attention to the final debarcation procedures.”
Admiral Yee waved him down lightly as they fell into step as they walked away from the shuttle. Despite his modest stature and significantly grayed appearance, his stride was lively. “This is our flagship, Commander. More to the point, after everything that’s happened, it was about time someone paid a bit more attention to the details around here.”
“A logical course of action,” Spock replied neutrally. “Shutdown procedures are running within the expected timeline. In addition to critical damage to primary systems and the hull, there was significant internal damage from objects that were dislodged during the disruptions to the ship’s gravitational systems.”
“In other words, the ship got banged up from the inside when your artificial gravity went haywire.”
“Affirmative.”
Yee gave him a curious smile. “They warned me about you.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I believe one of our Doctor McCoy’s favorite phrases is applicable here: ‘I don’t want to know.’”
To his credit, Yee chuckled lightly. “Perhaps not. Also, rumor has it that every uninjured member of your crew down below has volunteered to assist in the recovery efforts across the damaged section of the city.”
Spock inclined his head, and recognized how proud the captain would be if he knew what his crew was doing. And, if pressed, Spock would admit that he was proud, too. “I have heard these rumors, and am unsurprised. The crew of the Enterprise may have its noted atypical behavioral patterns, but they are dedicated and selfless.”
“That they are,” Yee said with a smile. Then his expression sobered as they passed through the doors of the shuttle bay and into the corridor. “Is the captain awake yet?”
“Regrettably, no.” Spock meant that part. “The damage from the radiation exposure was extensive. His tissues will require significantly more cellular regeneration before Doctor McCoy is willing to awaken him.”
A turbolift opened in front of them, and they slipped inside. Before Spock could say anything, however, Yee said, “Sickbay.”
Spock kept his demeanor impassive. He wasn’t surprised. The likelihood that Yee would select that destination first had been 81.7%. Still, he needed to keep Yee focused. “Lieutenant Commander Scott is almost ready to provide an inspection tour of Engineering. Two-point-one hours ago, he provided an estimate of three hours until completion.”
“I certainly intend to tour the engineering facilities.”
A curious statement, considering that a tour of the engineering facilities had been the primary stated purpose for this visit. “Pardon me, admiral, but I must ask if there is an aspect of this visit that I have not anticipated.”
Admiral Yee gave him a sideways look. “Nothing so sinister, commander. The senior leadership simply wishes to get a more direct report on Captain Kirk’s medical condition.”
Spock tilted his head. “Was Doctor McCoy’s report insufficient?”
“No, it was quite thorough... but there is some curiosity regarding how he managed to survive such a severe radiation exposure.” Yee’s tone was light, but the words were damning.
“It appears to be what humans would call a miracle.”
“Vulcans talking about miracles? Now I’ve heard everything.” The turbolift stopped, but instead of getting out, the admiral said, “Computer, hold turbolift. Commander Spock, please be direct with me. Your report stated that Captain Kirk entered the warp core chamber and performed a manual realignment of the core housing. His actions saved the ship from crashing, but exposed him to a significant amount of radiation. Based on every model our people can come up with, your captain should be dead. Additionally, one of the cryo units appears to be missing. So, before we step into the medical facility, do you care to explain your miracle, commander?”
Some of his colleagues’ more colorful descriptive language crossed Spock’s mind. Of course, someone would have noticed the missing pod eventually. The confusion and chaos during the initial debarcation had bought them enough time to actually go through with their plan to revive the captain, but now they’d have to start explaining. “Perhaps it would be best to allow Doctor McCoy to explain.”
Yee gave him a cutting look. “Now why am I not surprised?” The door of the turbolift opened in front of him, and he strode out of the ‘lift and directly across the corridor into sickbay.
The medical facility was fairly quiet. Doctor Carlson was working on Ensign Rothe’s foot. Spock had already received the report of the storage container falling on his extremity. It was not a severe injury. Carlson looked up, but before she could say anything, Spock waved her down. “Do not interrupt your patient’s care, Doctor Carlson.”
“Aye, commander,” Carlson said curiously, then, “Admiral,” in acknowledgement.
“Doctor,” Admiral Yee replied, barely looking at her. “Where is Doctor McCoy?”
“In isolation room one right now,” she answered. “Keep going towards the back of sickbay. It’s the door on the left. You’ll have to wait for him to come out, though.”
Yee didn’t bother to thank her as he continued his path towards the back of the facility. They rounded the corner, and Yee stopped so suddenly that it appeared he had collided with an invisible barrier. Of course, had Spock not already seen this view, he might have wavered in his momentum as well.
The viewing window on isolation room one was depolarized, giving a full view of Doctor McCoy, dressed in complete isolation scrubs, gently changing the dermagel bandages on the captain’s face. Jim’s skin had begun sloughing off, and although the healthy cells were replacing the dead ones at an incredible rate, his physical appearance was currently quite shocking.
“Dear God,” Yee whispered, staring wide-eyed through the window.
“I admit to our use of the cryo unit,” Spock said evenly, realizing that such an admission was inevitable. “It halted cellular destruction long enough to give Doctor McCoy time to prepare a therapy that he would be better at explaining than I would. Still... the statistical likelihood of the captain’s recovery was low enough that it would not be wholly unreasonable to call this a miracle. He should indeed be dead. He may yet not survive.”
“Why didn’t you report the severity of the situation?” His voice was breathy with disbelief, and he was looking at Kirk, not at Spock.
Spock was observing the Admiral. “I believe Doctor McCoy’s report was an accurate representation of the captain’s injuries.”
“Nobody mentioned that he was probably dying.”
“As Captain Kirk is still alive, it would have been premature to declare that he was dying. Additionally, it could have created significant morale problems to admit such a thing at that juncture.”
Yee gave a dry chuckle. “A Vulcan worried about morale? You have been hanging out with humans for quite a while, haven’t you?”
Spock allowed himself to interpret the question as rhetorical - something he’d learned from the captain. “Morale is critical to the successful functioning of a starship crew. It is logical to foster good crew morale, especially when morale would be at its lowest. Additionally, I believe that McCoy’s report indicated quite clearly that Captain Kirk was severely injured, subjected to significant radiation exposure, and was being kept unconscious because he would be in severe pain if he was awakened.”
“Out cold.”
“Admiral?”
A sad smile ghosted across the admiral’s face, and he finally glanced up at Spock. “McCoy didn’t say that Kirk was unconscious. He said that he was ‘out cold.’ Kirk was in cryo at the time, wasn’t he?”
“He was.” It seemed sensible to offer just enough truth to make the story more enticing. Admiral Yee was looking for dirt. Now he had his ‘secret’ to bring back to Starfleet Command, and the captain was still alive.
Better to ask forgiveness than permission.
Jim had told him that once. Maybe, despite Spock’s misgivings at the time, that was true.
“He nearly sacrificed himself for the ship.” This time, Yee’s voice was oddly reverent. “He had to have known the risks going in there.”
“I am quite certain that he knew the risks, admiral,” Spock confirmed. “He spoke to me for a short time before he lost consciousness... while we waited for the decontamination cycle to run.”
“That must have been difficult. Waiting.”
Spock’s chest was suddenly feeling tight, and his eyes felt warm. He buried the sensation and squared his shoulders. “It was quite difficult.”
“That’s practically an admission of being frantic, coming from a Vulcan.” Then his tone changed. “Where’s the Augment from the missing cryo pod?”
There was no avoiding this admission. “He did not survive the reanimation process. I have read the doctor’s report. They attempted to stabilize him, but it would have been impossible. There was excessive tissue degradation prior to the reanimation process, and we suspect that the cryo pod did not maintain steady temperatures during long periods of cryostasis.”
Yee considered that for a moment. “In other words, he wouldn’t have survived no matter what conditions he was revived under.”
“Affirmative.”
“Then it’s not really your fault he’s dead. He was dead before you tried to revive him.” Yee sighed. “I’ll instruct the medical personnel overseeing the other pods to survey them for stability and see of the same thing happened to any of the other Augments. Either way... I can’t say that I blame you guys for any of this. Considering everything your crew has endured... I think we might be able to smooth this one out.”
“Sir?” Spock was about to elaborate on his query when Doctor McCoy stepped back from Kirk’s bedside and saw that he was being observed.
Behind the sterile mask, McCoy’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then, with a shake of his head, he set aside the debriding tool he was holding, moved into the isolation room’s airlock, activated the exit cycle, and stepped into the main part of sickbay.
“Admiral,” McCoy said with nod as he pulled back his mask, then his gloves. “Had to see for yourself, did ya?”
“I needed to check,” Yee answered simply. “This crew does have a short but colorful history of making up their own rules, and it seemed peculiar that nobody was allowed to see Kirk at all. Especially with the missing cryo unit.” His tone was casual, but the bait was dangling.
McCoy seemed to freeze for a moment, but then nodded slowly as he folded his arms across his chest. “Peculiar, sure... but... what can I say? We’re a bit protective of Captain Kirk. He... well, he protected us, and I wasn’t going to give up on him. It was a long shot, and we didn’t know if it would work, but it was the best chance we had. We only had him in cryo long enough to let us set up treatment, and then, we kept his core temperature at 15 Celsius until the stem cell therapy took hold. And then, even if it worked, I knew that the recovery process would be... well... you can see for yourself. He’s a mess. So with all that going on, we couldn’t just put him on display to a bunch of brass when we don’t even know if he’ll pull through.”
“Will he?” Admiral Yee’s question was pointed.
McCoy sucked in a rapid breath, then blew it out while shaking his head. He shrugged. “We got him into cryo before there was too much cellular breakdown, and we managed to initiate a modified Sanger Protocol while he was still low-temperature. He had a bit of a reaction to the treatment, but it’s holding. He’ll be on total parenteral nutrition until his digestive tract rebuilds itself, and his immune system is almost nonexistent, but... for what he was exposed to... he has a better chance than he should have. And if anyone can beat the odds, it’s Kirk.”
“He does seem to have that track record.” Yee looked through the viewing window for a moment, then back at McCoy. “How long until you feel that it would be safe to move him?”
“Honestly?” McCoy scrubbed the palm of his hand over his jaw. His stubble was slightly longer than regulation allowed. “It would be best to keep him for another week without shuffling him around, but if that’s not possible, I want his skin healed over and his white blood cell count to be at least 50% of normal before we move him.”
“Presuming he survives at all,” Yee said, his tone questioning.
“Around here, admiral, we always presume a patient will survive,” McCoy replied sharply.
Yee gave Spock a curious look.
“Based on Doctor McCoy’s track record, such a presumption is not only warranted, but essential.”
McCoy raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I’ll be damned. Is that a compliment, Spock?”
“A mere statement of fact, doctor.”
Before McCoy could respond, the admiral chimed in.
“Actually, McCoy, your reputation does precede you. The work you did on Admiral Pike didn’t go unnoticed. They said anyone else would have lost him, or left him a quadriplegic. If anyone could pull Kirk through this, I’d guess it would be you.”
Despite the glowing compliment, a look of dark anger quickly overtook McCoy’s expression. “With all due respect, admiral, now isn’t the time to talk about Admiral Pike.”
Yee frowned. “I only meant that your skills were well-respected. I didn’t realize you and Pike were close.”
McCoy hunched his shoulders in a manner that Spock knew indicated defensiveness in the man, but before the doctor could say anything else, Spock turned to face the admiral. “Doctor McCoy has been under severe emotional distress over the past several days, and I am aware that he has not partaken in adequate rest cycles.”
“I can see that,” Yee said dryly. “But it’s to be expected, under the circumstances.”
McCoy snorted softly. “Yeah. I think we could all use a bit fewer circumstances around here.”
Suspecting that McCoy might be too emotionally unstable and physically exhausted to know when to back down, Spock cut in again before either the doctor or the admiral could continue the discussion. “Admiral, you have seen the captain for yourself, and I assume you have accurately deduced why we wish to minimize his exposure to viewing by third parties at this time.”
To Spock’s relief, Admiral Yee merely nodded. “He deserves that much respect.” Then, his posture shifted, just slightly. “Your captain risked everything for the ship. And while you should have reported your use of the cryo unit... I see why you did it, and I can’t personally fault you for it. There will still be an inquiry, but considering everything that’s happened, I think we can keep there from being too harsh of a punishment. I think all of you have been through enough.” He glanced back at Kirk through the window of the isolation room, cringing slightly. “I don’t know how he’s alive, but sometimes, it’s good enough that a person is.”
“That’s just James T. Kirk for you,” McCoy grumbled.
Spock thought he detected an unusual undertone in McCoy’s voice, but if he did, the admiral didn’t seem aware of it. “Indeed, Doctor.” Then, he turned to Yee. “Admiral, if I may, I would be pleased to escort you through the remainder of your inspection.”
The admiral complied easily enough, and they both turned to leave sickbay. At the door, however, Spock glanced back over his shoulder to observe Doctor McCoy.
The doctor was staring at him with a look of desolation that was all too familiar, and for a man whose presence typically filled his domain of the medical facility with unyielding energy, he looked small and lost.
Spock decided to keep that observation to himself, and hurried to keep stride with the admiral as the doors to sickbay slid shut behind them.
*********
Leonard watched them go.
With a sigh, he pulled his mask back on, then his gloves. Jim’s bandages were only half-changed, and with the rate at which his tissues were simultaneously dying and regenerating, Leonard couldn’t let the task go undone.
He was about to step back through the airlock when he heard footsteps approaching.
“You know you can let someone else do some of that,” M’Benga said softly.
“Can I?” Leonard replied. “Geoff... it might not be sensible or rational, but none of this makes sense right now. I only know that I’ve got to see this through myself.”
“That way, if something goes wrong, all of the blame will land squarely on your shoulders.” M’Benga’s voice held a note of accusation, but it wasn’t unkind.
“I’m responsible for him.” As soon as he said it, he realized just how many layers of meaning he’d surrendered in four words.
M’Benga, however, just nodded slowly. “I understand. But when was the last time you slept?”
The question alone brought the raw exhaustion he’d been feeling to the forefront of Leonard’s awareness. He sighed heavily, feeling the puff of air bounce back against his cheeks inside his mask. “I slept last night.”
“How long?”
“As long as I could.”
M’Benga sighed. “I can come in there with you. Sorry I wasn’t there when you started this round of debridement, but I was working on someone.”
But Leonard shook his head. “I’ve got it. Really... just let me do this. When he’s out of the woods, I’ll be able to rest. But... this isn’t the first time he was at death’s door on my table.”
“He was beyond death’s door, Leonard.”
Leonard swallowed back a surge of nausea. “Yeah. That. Anyway, I can’t let this go. Please... just accept that.”
“I can accept it,” M’Benga said sympathetically. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I... thanks, Geoff... but this time, I do.”
“I understand.” He nodded back over his shoulder. “Just got a report of another sprain from the cleanup crew. I’ll go take care of that. You take care of Kirk... and yourself.”
“Will do.” He meant it. He really did.
With a reluctant nod, M’Benga walked away, and Leonard let himself into the airlock. The sterilization cycle powered up, and Leonard grit his teeth as the sonics vibrated across his skin. He should be used to this by now, considering how many times he’d gone in and out of the isolation room since yesterday, but it set his teeth on edge every time. Still, he wasn’t going to take any risks with Jim.
The cycle completed itself, and Leonard walked into the room. It was dead quiet except for the rush of air from the respirator and the hum of the antigrav bed. Normally, force field respiratory support was enough for patients, but with the amount of tissue damage, Jim actually needed an endotracheal tube to keep his airway open. It was a damned good thing he was unconscious - the kid would freak the fuck out if he woke up like that.
Of course, it would probably be at least another week before they’d let Jim out of the drug-induced coma anyway.
Leonard took a moment to look Jim over. Sure, he’d just been in there a few minutes ago, but every time he walked into the room, he needed to reassure himself with his own eyes that Jim was alive. And then, he needed to force himself to visually assess how bad the damage really was, like a form of self-punishment and a reality-check in one.
Khan’s miracle serum was damned potent and powerful, but it wasn’t magic.
Once they’d reestablished basic vital signs, Leonard had initiated a basic stem cell therapy that was commonly used in radiation poisoning patients. The healthy cells would adhere to the damaged tissues, dividing and replacing the damaged ones. It was probably redundant, considering the effects of the serum, but Leonard wasn’t taking any chances. Plus, he needed a legitimate medical therapy to document that might possibly explain Jim’s survival.
Even with the most optimistic projections, he’d known it would be messy, and it was. There was widespread cell destruction in addition to the regeneration. A simple injury or basic illness probably would have healed easily with Khan’s proteins. Severe radiation exposure was completely different. So many cells were damaged beyond repair, and they were dying almost as fast as they were regenerating. GI tract, lungs, and even blood vessels were inflamed and on the edge of falling apart. Maybe with Khan’s stronger overall physiology, the process would have been much more smooth, but Jim only had a select set of proteins to fight against the tide of death.
As awful as they were, at least Leonard had anticipated all those problems. However, because it was Jim, he should have expected the unexpected.
As soon as Jim’s immune system had started rebuilding itself, what had at first seemed like a minor reaction had turned into a full-on immunological rejection of the transfusion. Leave it to Jim Kirk to be allergic to the only thing in the universe that could save his sorry ass. So, on top of everything else, the kid was on a hefty cocktail of immunosuppressants. Between that and the fact that his skin was sloughing off, he was as susceptible to infection as if he had no immune system anyway. Maybe those fancy proteins in Khan’s serum would have some effect on bacteria and viruses, but there was no guarantee. In fact, nothing was guaranteed right now.
Between the immune reaction and the widespread cell destruction, Jim’s whole body was swollen. He looked like a burn victim. His lymphatic system was overloaded, even with the constant dialysis to remove the wastes. But... Jim was alive. Beyond all odds and medical knowledge. And hell, if they could just keep the rejection reaction under control long enough to let the proteins do their stuff and manage the general complications of the healing process, Jim could be completely healed in just a couple of weeks.
Leonard just hoped he wouldn’t have to explain that little miracle to the medical community.
He couldn’t worry about that for now. He had bandages to change.
“Computer, polarize the viewing window.” He didn’t need any more nosey officers intruding on Jim’s privacy when the kid was this vulnerable.
Gently, he pulled back the sheets covering Jim’s body. It was horrible - raw, red, peeling. “Dammit, Jim,” Leonard said softly.
He set back to work, debriding areas that were sloughing off, covering the exposed tissues with dermagel. It was messy work, and he could have had a tech do it, but this was a labor of love. He wasn’t going to abandon Jim now.
He was grateful that he’d insisted on the installation of an antigrav bed when the ship had been refitted after the Nero incident. Having Jim resting directly on such damaged skin would have been awful. However, the visual effect of seeing Jim floating just a few inches above the biobed, tethered to a dozen different pieces of equipment, was thoroughly unnerving. Sure, Leonard was a doctor, and he’d seen this sort of treatment for a patient plenty of times. It was just different seeing it with Jim.
“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, kid,” Leonard said aloud as he applied a long strip of dermagel to the lateral aspect of Jim’s thigh. “You’ve pulled some pretty spectacular stunts, but this? This took the cake, the icing, and even the goddamned candle on top.”
He reached for his sonic debrider and set to work on another section of skin. Jim didn’t even twitch as he worked the tool across the kid’s torso - still as death itself, except for the mechanical rhythm of the respirator breathing for him.
“I know why you did it. But... I... Jesus, Jim.” He shook his head to himself. He was getting distracted.
He worked in silence for about a half hour, keeping his mind blank and his hands busy until every patch of Jim’s body was covered with fresh, glistening dermagel. He’d have to do this again within twelve hours, but for now, the work was done.
Really, Leonard knew he should go write up his report and get some rest, but that wasn’t going to happen.
With the thin privacy afforded by the polarized window, he finally sat down and lightly touched Jim’s hand. He didn’t dare apply any more pressure for fear of disrupting the healing tissues, but he needed to connect with his best friend in a way that wasn’t purely medical.
Hell, he hadn’t actually stopped long enough to simply sit by Jim’s bedside yet. He’d been living in a constant whirlwind of applying one therapy, setting up another therapy, working in the lab, changing bandages, and reassessing vitals. And really, almost every time he’d been in the isolation room, another doctor, a nurse, or a medical assistant was in there with him. Thinking back to what M’Benga had said, he was starting to suspect it was intentional.
They really didn’t understand.
“Hey kid,” he tried to say softly, but to his dismay, his voice was already threatening to crack. He cleared his throat. “We need to stop meeting like this. The shuttle crash was bad enough. At least you were alive when I got you that time.”
Jim’s silence was deafening, but it was good that the kid was heavily sedated. If he’d been awake for any of it, even the best painkillers wouldn’t have been enough to spare him.
“I know why you did it. We all know. Hell, Jim... if the admiralty understood a goddamned thing about you, they wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest, but they’re a bunch of idiots who can’t see past your cocky facade. But I know you, kid. I watched you walk out into the middle of a battle two years ago on Araxis. I’ve watched you launch yourself into the black more than once with nothing but some wires and fancy cloth for protection because you needed to help people. And yeah, you were scared, but you never let it stop you, and you never let it show to anyone else. I never should’ve doubted you.”
Leonard cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re a good captain, Jim. It’s like you were made for this. You let yourself drown in these doubts of yours when you start thinking too much, but when the shit starts to fly, you’re a damned genius in that chair. Pike... told me what he said to you... and he was wrong. You did respect chair. You just didn’t believe that you were really good enough for it.” He opened his eyes and looked down at Jim’s swollen face. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when I... when I challenged you... when you took the captain’s chair on this ship for the first time.” He swallowed tightly. “I never told you how sorry I am for that. You just surprised me. You always surprise me.”
He gently brushed his fingers over the dermagel on the back of Jim’s hand. “Maybe, someday, you’ll stop surprising me. But until then... I guess I’m along for the ride.”
A beeping monitor caught Leonard’s attention, and he jumped up to check the readouts. Blood sugar and insulin levels were off, and it was no wonder. They’d been supplementing Jim’s insulin levels while his pancreas repaired itself, and his body was using a massive amount of sugar along with proteins and fats as it reconstructed damaged tissues. Quickly, Leonard increased the amount of glucose being infused and recalibrated the insulin levels to account for the fact that the kid’s pancreas was producing more insulin than it had been just an hour ago.
Unbelievable.
“Even when you’re out cold, you eat like a pig,” Leonard mumbled as he sat down heavily next to Jim’s bedside again.
As before, Jim was silent and still.
Leonard gently covered Jim’s hand with his own again, marveling at the warmth there... slightly feverish, actually, and so very different from the horrible coldness of the cryo unit.
An unwelcome image overlaid itself with the current view of Jim. Dead, in a body bag. Frozen in a cryo tube. So many levels of wrongness, but now, that just made the image of Jim alive seem like something wrong and perverse, like a mockery of life.
Leonard’s throat tightened a bit. “I always knew there’d come a day when I wouldn’t be able to pull you back from the brink, but... I don’t even know how to wrap my head around this shit. God damn... fuck... did I do the right thing, kid?” He tried to take a deep breath and failed. “Should humans be able to do something like this at all? I mean, sure, some people thought it was a crime against the natural order when they discovered artificial resuscitation a few hundred years ago. Some people even thought CPR and defibrillators were witchcraft. But this? This is something else altogether.”
He swallowed tightly. “What would you have wanted me to do, Jim? If it had been me on the table, and you were the doctor... what would you have done? I know you shattered the Prime Directive to save Spock, and I know you would have done the same for me... but would you violate the laws of nature?” He reached under Jim’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the kid’s pulse. “Or would you just tell me that even those rules are only guidelines?”
Even if Jim could have responded, Leonard wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He sighed. “Even when you wake up... I don’t know if I can tell you what I did. I don’t know if you could forgive me.”
The only response was the soft hiss of the respirator.
*********
The door to the observation deck slid open, and Spock followed Admiral Yee inside. After their departure from sickbay, the tour of the ship had been uneventful.
Although the observation deck had taken some damage, it was mostly superficial, and would provide an adequate location for continued discussion. Spock anticipated that the admiral would lay out a basic set of expectations, a timeline for complete evacuation of the crew, and a protocol for the official handover of the ship for long-term repairs.
“Have a seat, commander,” Yee said as he sat down at the head of the table. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Spock wanted to point out that he was already quite comfortable, but he’d learned that such instructions were rhetorical. He sat down and folded his hands across the scratched surface of the conference table. “I presume that you wish to lay out our final orders for decommissioning the Enterprise for repairs.”
To Spock’s surprise, Yee waved a hand dismissively. “You already know what to do. The final orders will arrive on your PADD within the next hour. However, I’ve got something a bit more pressing to discuss right now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Admiral?”
Yee sighed, then leaned heavily on the table. “You’re about to walk into a political nightmare, Spock. You and this whole crew.”
“Pardon me, but I do not understand why our crew would become entangled in a political situation.”
“Don’t play innocent, commander, even if you really have no idea what I’m talking about. You can’t afford to play innocent right now. I would have brought this to Kirk if I could have, not just because he’s the captain, but because if there’s one thing Kirk is good at, it’s maneuvering through bullshit. And you’re about to land in a pile of it.”
“To what sort of bovine excrement are you referring?”
At that, Yee cracked a burst of laughter. “And they said Vulcans don’t have a sense of humor.” Then he composed himself. “You know that Starfleet has had a few political hot-button issues since the Narada. We’ve been able to keep most of it away from our missions and our exploratory vessels, but after this, we might not.”
Spock frowned slightly. “I do not believe I understand your focal point for this discussion.”
“Then I’ll be blunt. Militarization, commander.” A deep frown furrowed Yee’s face. “Although we suspect that Marcus’s research and development program went beyond the scope for which it was intended, and that there was very limited awareness of its existence outside of the program itself, it did have approval at the highest levels.”
“It had approval? If I might ask, from whom?”
“You can ask, but I really can’t tell you. Use your best guess, Mr. Spock.” The admiral’s shoulders slumped just a little bit. “A program like that can’t exist without being sanctioned, even if people on the outside don’t actually know what’s happening on the inside. We knew there was research... but... I might as well tell you this much: we didn’t know he already had a functional ship. As I said, it was only supposed to be a research and development program.”
“That is a significant amount of development.”
“Well, yes, you could see it that way. He had a lot of resources at his disposal - materials and people. He was able to get what he wanted without much resistance. Starfleet gave him a carte blanche for his pet project because they thought it was for the best. Our populations are uneasy, and want reassurance that we can protect them. We weren’t ready for the Narada, and that set a bad precedent.”
Spock considered this carefully, but replied quickly. “As you speak of precedent, it must be observed that encountering a foe from the distant future, armed with advanced and unknown technologies, was unprecedented. It would have been impossible to predict that event, and as such, our forces could not be expected to be ready for such an onslaught.”
“See, that would be the rational way to look at it,” Yee said sadly. “But that’s not how humans think. What people saw with the Narada was a threat that almost wiped them out after successfully destroying our ally’s home planet, and it was little more than sheer dumb luck that allowed us to stop them. If a threat like that could happen once, it could happen again.”
The admiral leaned back in his chair, and for the first time since he’d come onboard, he looked old. “We spent the last year playing damage control with the media. We’ve fielded hundreds of demands from Federation members, colony worlds, and outposts, all wanting additional protection. We tried to reassure them that something like that wouldn’t happen again.”
“But it did not happen again,” Spock interjected. “And it would be unlikely to do so. This indicates that your reassurances were correct.”
“And there you go, being logical again.” Yee shook his head. “Commander, we just had a ship crash into a major city, barely missing the heart of Starfleet Headquarters, destroying part of the Academy grounds, and killing thousands of people in the city itself.”
“And this ship was first commanded by a corrupt Starfleet admiral,” Spock replied, “and then by a sentient weapon of our own making. This was not an external threat.”
Yee looked at him imploringly. “Do you really think we can tell people that?”
“It would be the truth.”
“And the truth would be a hundred times more damning than the fiction that people are already spreading around the media rumor mill.” Yee’s eyes bored into him. “If we tell them that we can’t even keep our population safe from our own people... if we tell them that one of our most senior officers attacked our own flagship and tried to execute Captain Kirk and his crew... if we tell them that secret Starfleet research facilities were playing with living relics from the Eugenics wars... what do you think would happen?”
Spock rapidly let all the possible scenarios play out in his mind, and to his dismay, they never ended well.
Admiral Yee nodded slowly. “You see? We can’t give them the truth.”
“What rumor do they believe now? And what will Starfleet’s official statement be?”
“Currently, the top rumor is that John Harrison, an ex-Starfleet officer with a chip on his shoulder, went rogue after the Narada. He was in research and development in engineering. He hid on Kronos, stole Klingon technology, and came back to Earth for a fight - a grudge-match against our senior leadership. When we sent our flagship to investigate, the Enterprise encountered a warship of mixed Klingon and Federation technology. The rest... you can probably guess.”
Spock considered this, then tilted his head in query. “Would this not create even greater concern regarding the possibility of imminent Klingon attack? And display the possibility of a more severe security breach?”
Yee shrugged helplessly. “Who knows, commander? It might, but our best and brightest in the think tank seem to think that this is the best story that the public would be willing to swallow.”
“Starfleet Command sees fit to propagate this rumor?”
Yee’s expression was noncommittal. “For now, we aren’t dispelling it. Our primary concern is that we do not allow the public to believe that Starfleet itself was compromised from within. That is essential.”
“And you want our crew cooperate in this ploy,” Spock filled in. He found the idea utterly distasteful. Logically, he could not foresee the results of this rumor being significantly better than revealing the truth.
“That’s an order, commander. For now, you don’t have to say anything unless you want to, but you will allow the public to believe that exact rumor. Only bridge officers are authorized to speak to the media, and they are to ensure that nothing they say will suggest that the compromise to Starfleet security went beyond one man named John Harrison.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “In that case, I will relay those orders to all crew members.” Then he furrowed his eyebrows. “But admiral, if I may ask... you said that the issue at hand is militarization. Can you please explain this further?”
Admiral Yee looked at him for a moment, then slowly closed and opened his eyes. “Marcus wasn’t the only one who wanted to militarize Starfleet. Sure, he had only been authorized to work on research and development, but that push didn’t come from nowhere. There has been an undercurrent throughout the Federation, but particularly on Earth and human colonies, of wanting to make exploration a secondary mission for Starfleet, and making military maneuvers - not just defense - into our primary mission.”
Spock openly frowned. “That would undermine Starfleet’s charter and mission, and the entire structure of our organization.”
“It would. But... at the same time... can you blame them?”
“The issue is not one of blame, admiral. I simply fail to see why militarization would appeal so strongly to a species that almost destroyed itself due to war in the past. This is why Vulcans will not turn back to the ways of war and aggression.”
“And, while you might not forgive me for this, commander, some very outspoken mouthpieces on Earth are saying that’s part of why Vulcan is gone.”
A flash of hot anger threatened Spock’s composure, but he held it back. If such things were being said, it was better that he be aware of them, and anger would not serve him. “No forgiveness is needed; you simply informed me of the fact that some individuals are making this insinuation.”
Yee grimaced, but nodded. “Most folks wouldn’t say so, but I respect that you can see it that way right now.”
Then, the admiral turned his chair and gazed out the observation deck’s broad viewport. Through it, they could see the broad structure of the space station where they were docked. There were EV crews already working on the secondary hull. The ship would be rebuilt, and for now, they were safe. Then Yee spoke again.
“You can educate a society, eliminate poverty and scarcity, and create a world of peaceful, industrious citizens... but you can’t erase human nature. Our people watched the destruction of their neighbors’ planet last year, and this year, they watched a strange ship crash into one of our major cities. They saw buildings go down in a pile of flames and rubble. They watched thousands of people being crushed to death. There’s no logic in that, Commander Spock, and there will be no logic in the reaction to it. People want somewhere to focus their anger. They want to take action, even if they’re striking out blindly. They want someone to blame, and they want a fight. This has all happened before, and history is known for repeating itself.”
Yee finally looked turned away from the viewport and looked back at Spock, and his expression was grim. “The engines of war, commander. Do you smell the smoke?”
*********