ST: Requiem (4/?)
Title: Requiem (chapter four)
Rating: PG-13/T for language, some violence
Genre: Angst, h/c, gen
Characters: The entire ST:XI crew plus some new OCs; strong focus on McCoy this chapter
Spoilers/warnings: Anything in the movie is up for grabs. Also trying to stick as close to canon as possible for the show, but I haven't watched many. Most of my knowledge is limited to what I've found on (numerous) Web sites, so if I'm off on something, feel free to let me know.
Length: This chapter: approx. 3700 words
Notes: Apologies for posting this so late (although it's still Friday here!), but real life got much busier than I planned today. *g* Thanks to stray for the encouragement and to eight for the amazing beta. Also, it'll be Jim's POV next chapter! :D
Summary: Caught off-guard by their captain's sudden death, the crew of the Enterprise searches for answers. The problem? Jim Kirk isn't dead.
“And that’s it,” Sulu finished, quiet voice filling the small conference room. He raised his eyes to look at the three faces staring back at him over the wooden table. Scott’s face was grim, while McCoy’s eyes were stormy as he scowled at no one in particular. Spock’s face was as neutral as usual, save for the thin green vein visible near his left temple--a sign that his emotional state was anything but neutral. Sulu stared at his hands again. “That’s what happened.”
“And there were no warning signs? He just keeled over?” McCoy asked.
“Yes. We only had a few seconds warning before he went down,” Sulu answered grimly, squaring his shoulders as he lifted his eyes once more.
“You neglected to mention the discovery of the warp core manufacturer in your report to the admiral,” Spock said, looking sharply at Sulu. “Why?”
“We never actually confirmed that was what it was, sir,” Sulu replied. “We just assumed that’s what it was. I didn’t think it would be wise to start pointing fingers based off an assumption.”
“From th’ sounds of it, I’d say y’ assumed right,” Scott told him, leaning forward in his chair. “From what I’ve seen of Pilarian technology--and if there’s any sense in th’ design of their manufacturers--there’s nothin’ on their planet that would require such a large machine t’ make.”
“And yet it is illogical for the Pilarians to have such a machine, as there is no apparent warp technology in their spacecraft,” Spock said.
McCoy folded his arms as he sat back in his chair. “What the hell does this all have to do with what happened to Jim?”
“Maybe there’s some kind of conspiracy within the Pilarian government,” Sulu suggested half-heartedly. “Something they didn’t want us to know about.”
Spock shook his head once. “Illogical. The Pilarians established initial contact with the Federation, so it is highly unlikely they would do so if there is something they are trying to hide.”
“Unless they were after the cap’n himself,” Scott pointed out.
“Why? Why would they be after him?” McCoy asked harshly. “Sulu saw the exact same thing Jim did at that factory--why didn’t they kill him, too? And when would they have had opportunity to do it? Can’t have been at the feast--from the sounds of it, if there was poison in anything at that feast, y’all should have died, too, since y’all ate the same thing. If anything, Scotty should’ve been the one to keel over.”
“The doctor makes an excellent point,” Spock agreed. “Mr. Scott is the only member of the away team to have consumed something the rest of the team did not also consume, and the captain was never alone during the duration of our stay. It seems improbable that there could have been foul play involved.”
“What about the person Captain Kirk saw in the factory?” Sulu wondered. “Could he have been involved somehow?”
“There is no sign that Jim’s…” Spock’s eyes darkened as he considered his next words. “That the captain’s… passing… was caused by anything other than natural causes,” he finished slowly.
“And… as much as I hate to say it… whoever--or whatever--Jim saw could’ve been a hallucination,” McCoy added grimly. “That may have been the only warning. Jim tends to…” The CMO grimaced as he corrected himself. “Jim used to hide things when he was sick or injured. He might not have let you see any other symptoms.”
“So… tha’s it, then?” Scott asked. “He just… keeled over?”
Before anyone could respond, the communicator embedded in the wall chimed. “Commander, the Pilarian ambassador has contacted us,” Uhura announced. “He wants to know what happened to the landing party.”
Spock moved to the communicator and pressed a button. “Understood, Lieutenant. Inform the ambassador I will speak with him momentarily.”
“Yes, sir.”
Spock turned to face the others. “I believe this debriefing is over.” His eyebrows furrowed as he added, “We shall have to wait until an autopsy is conducted to determine if further investigation into this incident is necessary.”
With that, the Vulcan strode from the room, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. “I still… I just can’t believe it,” Sulu said quietly, looking to the chair to the right of the one Spock had been sitting in--the chair Kirk typically sat in during meetings in this room.
McCoy suddenly growled and slammed a fist into the table before shooting up from his seat. “I’ll be in sickbay,” he growled as he moved to the door.
Scott reached out and grasped the CMO’s elbow, making him pause mid-step. “You did everything you could, Doc,” the engineer said quietly. “No one blames ya.”
McCoy’s shoulders slumped a little as he tugged his elbow out of Scott’s loose grip. “I do.”
*****
As soon as Spock stepped in front of the captain’s chair, Uhura brought up Ambassador Giten’s transmission onto the main viewscreen. “Ambassador,” Spock greeted, bowing slightly in respect. “I apologize for our abrupt departure, and for failing to notify you.”
“I am simply relieved to see you well, Commander,” Giten replied, a small smile on his thin lips. “When we discovered your party had disappeared, we searched the grounds to no avail. I trust you are all well? Where is your captain?”
Spock hesitated for a brief moment, eyes flickering over to Uhura. The lieutenant stared back, eyes filled with both grief and support as she looked at him. Spock straightened his shoulders as he looked back to the viewscreen. “It is my great regret to inform you that Captain Kirk passed away a few hours ago.”
A door slid open, but Spock kept his eyes on the viewscreen, watching the Pilarian’s reaction closely. Giten blinked rapidly, and his mouth turned down into a frown--all apparent signs that the ambassador was quite upset. But the blackness of his eyes made it difficult for Spock to see the true emotion reflected there.
“You have my deepest regrets,” the ambassador said gravely. “This is a most terrible loss, and quite a sudden turn of events.”
“Indeed,” Spock replied shortly.
Giten tilted his head slightly. “May I inquire as to what happened? Captain Kirk appeared to be in perfect health when I saw him last.”
“The captain collapsed on the way back to the quarters you had provided for our use,” Spock explained as Scott and Sulu walked onto the bridge. Sulu silently returned to his station, and Scott stood just behind Spock’s left shoulder. The Vulcan hesitated for a moment before adding, “Preliminary reports indicate his death was a result of natural causes.”
The ambassador’s forehead furrowed slightly. “An odd diagnosis for one so healthy and vital as the captain,” he said.
Spock’s hands clenched into fists behind his back. “It is atypical, but there are several possible explanations. A logical elucidation should be discovered during the autopsy back at Starfleet Medical,” he said firmly, voice filled with barely restrained emotion.
“I see,” Giten said softly. He blinked and asked, “And what of our negotiations, Commander?”
“I have assurances from Admiral Christopher Pike that Starfleet shall send another ship to serve as envoy within the month. While this… change in circumstances is most unfortunate, we shall not allow it to derail our efforts to form a relationship with your people.” Spock swallowed as he added, “Captain Kirk would not have wanted that.”
Giten nodded, a smile once more tugging at his lips. “I imagine he would not. Your captain was a good man.”
“Aye,” Scott declared softly as many crew members on the bridge nodded in agreement.
“I shall inform the Assembly of these events,” Giten said. He paused for a moment. “I would request you consider remaining here long enough for our people to hold a proper dau hollfa for the captain. It is our kind’s memorial for someone of great importance. Typically the ceremony requires a body, but we may be able to negotiate around that, as Pilar is not Captain Kirk’s native world.”
Spock’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What exactly would this ceremony--”
The Vulcan turned as the communicator built into the arm of the captain’s chair suddenly chirped. “Excuse me a moment, Ambassador,” he said, moving to the chair and pressing a button. “Spock here.”
“You need to get down to sickbay. Now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow at the tension in McCoy’s voice. “Is something the matter, Doctor?”
When there was no reply, Spock frowned and turned toward the helm. “Mr. Chekov?”
The young Russian was already entering some commands into his console. “Ze doctor appears to be alone in ze sickbay, sir,” he replied. “I can find no reason for a disturbance.”
The Vulcan looked back at the viewscreen. Giten was staring at him, head tilted slightly in confusion. “I am sorry, but I am afraid our conversation will have to be cut short, Ambassador,” Spock said.
“I understand,” Giten answered. “What about my request?”
Spock thought for a moment before replying, “I would request you send the information regarding dau hollfa to our ship. I shall have to consult with Starfleet before I make a decision, but I will gladly inform you on my choice as soon as it is made.”
Giten bowed low, face disappearing off screen for a moment before reappearing. “It shall be done,” he declared.
Spock nodded once, and the transmission ended. “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn,” the Vulcan ordered, heading for the turbo lift. “I shall be in sickbay.”
*****
McCoy walked forcefully to the turbo lift, keeping his eyes forward as he jabbed the button fiercely. He could feel several sets of eyes focused on him, but he continued staring at the lift doors. If he looked around at all he’d see the Pilarian on the viewscreen.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from launching a tirade against the ambassador of the planet where his best friend had died.
After a long moment, the doors finally slid open with a quiet hiss and McCoy entered, punching the button that would take him back to sickbay. The doors shut just as the Pilarian ambassador announced gravely, “You have my deepest regrets.”
McCoy snorted humorlessly as he slumped back against the walls of the lift. Like I need anymore regret, he thought bitterly, crossing his arms for the few moments it took for the lift to reach its destination.
The sickbay was practically empty, as it was the beginning of Gamma shift. McCoy nodded at Nurse Trachton, the only nurse on duty, as he stepped off the lift and passed by her desk. The young woman glanced up and nodded back, a small, sad smile curving her lips.
He’d planned on going back to the bottle of bourbon that was currently on the desk in his office--he'd already had several glasses before Spock had called him up for the debriefing, and he had every intention of finishing the bottle off.
Yet instead of his office, he found himself leaning against the partition he’d put into place to separate the bio-bed where Kirk’s body lay from the rest of sickbay. Someone--Chapel, more than likely--had smoothed the captain’s tousled hair and draped a sheet up to his chest, bare arms holding the fabric down. If McCoy didn’t know Kirk better, he could’ve pretended the younger man was simply asleep.
But McCoy did know better. There was no need for a blanket in sickbay, thanks to the bio-beds. And Jim had never been that still, not even in sleep.
Behind him, he heard Trachton slip off into the supply room for the nightly inventory. He had a feeling the nurse would be taking more time for the process than usual, which left McCoy alone in the sickbay with Kirk.
Or rather, the shell that used to be his best friend.
“I always thought the job would kill ya, Kid,” McCoy muttered, folding his arms as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sighed a little. “Just thought it’d be in a blaze of glory, not on some kiss-ass diplomatic mission.”
He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed when Jim didn’t respond with some smart-aleck remark; he was well aware Kirk couldn’t do anything like that anymore.
“I’m getting too old for this kinda thing,” the CMO griped, pushing off the partition and moving forward to stand next to the bio-bed.
It’d been awhile since he’d stared at a body. He’d never enjoyed being around bodies--he was a doctor, not a mortician, after all, and it was his job to keep people from becoming bodies. But since the odds were against him never losing a patient, especially on a starship, he’d developed a knack for detaching himself from the situation.
Except he couldn’t now. Not like this. Not with Jim.
McCoy sighed, reaching over to grab the chair someone had left behind and dragging it next to the bed. He sat down, perching on the edge of the seat as he looked at Kirk. He propped his elbows on his knees and cradled his chin in his hands.
“Damn it, Jim,” he murmured after a moment, and something inside him twisted sharply when he thought about the fact he’d never have to say those words again. He swallowed hard and rubbed his face with a hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
He sighed again as he shifted in his seat. This one-sided conversation was too similar to the one he’d had after his father had died. He never thought he’d experience another loss quite as deep and profound as the death of his father.
But then, he’d never thought he’d have a friend quite like Jim Kirk, either.
“God, I’m such a failure,” he breathed as he stared at Jim’s blue-tinged face. After a moment, he tipped his head forward to rest on the edge of the bed. “Couldn’t save my father… couldn’t save my marriage… guess it makes sense I couldn’t save you,” he finished, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “Seems like I can’t save the things that mean the most to me.”
He swallowed a few times, hand reaching up to grab Kirk’s limp wrist. He grimaced at the feel of too-cool skin beneath his and tightened his grip instinctively, willing warmth back into it. It was exactly like last time--a body cooling on the bed, leaving McCoy behind despite his best efforts to save the one person who meant the most to him; leaving him alone to pick up the shattered pieces of what had once been his life.
McCoy had barely made it through last time. Wouldn’t have made it, if he hadn’t met Kirk on that Starfleet shuttle five years ago.
“I can’t do this again, Jim,” he whispered brokenly, moisture stinging his eyes. “I can’t.”
Thump.
McCoy’s head shot up at the press of a pulse against his fingers. He blinked furiously, adjusting his grip on Jim’s wrist and holding his breath instinctively as he tried to find the rhythm back.
Please, he thought desperately. Please…
The seconds stretched on with no sign of any further movement within Jim’s veins, and McCoy’s shoulders slumped a little with each passing moment, bitterness shoving out the momentary hope he’d felt. “Damn it,” he hissed, loosening his grip slightly but reluctant to completely let go of his friend’s wrist. “I’m such a--”
Thump.
He paused mid-sentence, eyes widening as he glanced up at the chronometer perched above the bio-bed. His grip tightened as he watched the seconds tick by.
“This can’t be…” he murmured softly as the thirty-second mark went past without another heartbeat. “I must’ve imagined it again. There’s no way…” He trailed off, watching the seconds continue to scroll past.
Thump.
The third time he felt the pulse, it seemed stronger than it had before, and McCoy felt the beginnings of a disbelieving smile pulling at his face. Seventy-two seconds. Way too long to be a practical heart rate, and yet he’d felt it. Three times.
He stood to tug the sheet covering the captain’s chest down a bit and laid his ear over Jim’s heart, keeping his fingers wrapped around Kirk’s wrist. “C’mon, Jim,” he muttered, counting down silently.
Seventy-two seconds later, he heard the solid thud-thud of Kirk’s heart in time with the pulse moving beneath his fingers.
“Oh my god,” McCoy breathed, straightening and looking at Jim. Not at the body. At Jim.
Because Jim was alive.
McCoy reached up and turned on the bio-bed’s monitors, keeping them on silent so as to avoid the deafening screech that would result from the computer’s failure to detect a heartbeat. He released Kirk’s hand to move to a nearby comm. “McCoy to bridge.”
A moment later he heard Spock calmly announce, “Spock here.”
“You need to get down to sickbay. Now,” McCoy declared tersely before stepping away from the comm. He heard Spock ask something, but paid no attention as he moved back to Kirk’s side, grabbing the younger man’s wrist as he looked up at the monitor. He just had to wait a few more seconds…
As the seventy-two second mark passed, McCoy not only felt the thump of Jim’s pulse, but he also saw the lines for both Kirk’s heart rate and respiratory functions jump briefly before flat-lining again. “Damn it, Jim,” he declared with a grin, looking back down at the captain. His skin was still too blue, and there was no steady rise and fall of his chest, but the signs were there.
Jim was alive.
The CMO turned as he heard the hiss of the lift’s doors sliding open. Spock strode through the partition a moment later, eyebrows deeply furrowed as he caught sight of the doctor smiling as he gripped Kirk’s wrist. “What have you discovered, Doctor?” the Vulcan queried, eyes flicking from Kirk’s body to McCoy.
McCoy’s grin widened as he pointed at the bio-bed’s monitor. “Just watch.”
Spock quirked an eyebrow but obeyed, watching the flat line of the monitor for a long moment. “I do not understand--”
“Wait for it,” McCoy ordered, glancing at the chronometer. “Just a couple more seconds.”
Spock stiffened as the readings on the monitor jumped again. “What… what does this mean?” he asked softly, looking at the doctor with what McCoy could’ve sworn was hope forming in his eyes.
“He’s alive, Spock,” McCoy replied. “Jim’s alive.”
“How?”
McCoy chuckled a little as he shook his head in wonder, watching the readings spike once more as the skin beneath his fingers jumped. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “His heart’s only beating once every seventy-two seconds, and I think that’s how often he’s breathing, too.”
“It is impossible for a human to survive for long with such vital signs,” Spock replied. “And yet…”
“Jim’s always tried to do the impossible,” McCoy finished. “Makes sense he would be doing it now.”
Spock frowned a little in thought as he looked at the captain. “What is the likelihood that this is result of natural causes?”
“Slim to none,” McCoy replied. His hand tightened around Kirk’s wrist reflexively as he realized the implications of the answer. “Someone did poison him,” he growled.
Spock’s eyes darkened as he nodded once. “It appears so, Doctor,” he declared, voice hardened slightly by anger. “By all outward appearances, the would-be assassin must have used some kind of neurotoxin to create the appearance of death.”
McCoy glanced up as the readings on the bio-bed spiked again and nodded. “I can think of four compounds right now that could pass through the standard blood work undetected. Problem is, none of those are meant to last this long. With each one, the patient dies if there’s no antidote or some other kind of stimulant administered within an hour.”
“It is possible that we are facing an unknown pathogen, as we are currently conducting business with a relatively unknown species,” Spock pointed out. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Is it possible to maintain an acceptable level of brain functions when the vital signs are at this state?”
McCoy’s face darkened at the thought. “No. Jim’s heart’s not beating often enough to send blood moving through his veins, and his respiratory levels aren’t high enough to have a healthy amount of oxygen in his blood. And Chapel did a neural scan when we were trying to revive him. There was nothing.” He sighed, finally releasing Jim’s wrist as he reached up to rub his neck wearily. “Hell, maybe he’s just as far away from us as he was when we thought he was dead.”
Spock tilted his head thoughtfully as he glanced down at Kirk. “There is a way to find out,” he declared slowly, raising his eyes to stare firmly at McCoy.
The CMO stared back at the Vulcan for a long moment before his eyebrows suddenly shot up in realization. “No, Spock,” he declared firmly. “I won’t allow it.”
“Any other scans or tests you may attempt will yield inconclusive results due to whatever pathogen has put Jim in this state,” Spock protested. “A mind meld is the quickest way to determine if his mind has been unaffected by these events.”
“And what happens if it has?” McCoy shot back, folding his arms. “What happens if Jim’s mind is gone and you try and meld with him? What’s to stop that from rebounding on you?”
“I shall be able to detect such a problem before it occurs,” Spock replied calmly. Before McCoy could protest, he added, “I would prefer to have you remain conscious during this procedure, Doctor, but I am ready to proceed as I feel is necessary with or without your presence.”
McCoy scowled. “I don’t like it,” he growled.
“Your disapproval is duly noted, Doctor,” Spock answered wryly, moving to stand near Kirk’s head. He hesitated for a moment before gently pressing his fingers to Kirk’s head and murmuring, “Our minds, one and together.”
tbc...
Rating: PG-13/T for language, some violence
Genre: Angst, h/c, gen
Characters: The entire ST:XI crew plus some new OCs; strong focus on McCoy this chapter
Spoilers/warnings: Anything in the movie is up for grabs. Also trying to stick as close to canon as possible for the show, but I haven't watched many. Most of my knowledge is limited to what I've found on (numerous) Web sites, so if I'm off on something, feel free to let me know.
Length: This chapter: approx. 3700 words
Notes: Apologies for posting this so late (although it's still Friday here!), but real life got much busier than I planned today. *g* Thanks to stray for the encouragement and to eight for the amazing beta. Also, it'll be Jim's POV next chapter! :D
Summary: Caught off-guard by their captain's sudden death, the crew of the Enterprise searches for answers. The problem? Jim Kirk isn't dead.
“And that’s it,” Sulu finished, quiet voice filling the small conference room. He raised his eyes to look at the three faces staring back at him over the wooden table. Scott’s face was grim, while McCoy’s eyes were stormy as he scowled at no one in particular. Spock’s face was as neutral as usual, save for the thin green vein visible near his left temple--a sign that his emotional state was anything but neutral. Sulu stared at his hands again. “That’s what happened.”
“And there were no warning signs? He just keeled over?” McCoy asked.
“Yes. We only had a few seconds warning before he went down,” Sulu answered grimly, squaring his shoulders as he lifted his eyes once more.
“You neglected to mention the discovery of the warp core manufacturer in your report to the admiral,” Spock said, looking sharply at Sulu. “Why?”
“We never actually confirmed that was what it was, sir,” Sulu replied. “We just assumed that’s what it was. I didn’t think it would be wise to start pointing fingers based off an assumption.”
“From th’ sounds of it, I’d say y’ assumed right,” Scott told him, leaning forward in his chair. “From what I’ve seen of Pilarian technology--and if there’s any sense in th’ design of their manufacturers--there’s nothin’ on their planet that would require such a large machine t’ make.”
“And yet it is illogical for the Pilarians to have such a machine, as there is no apparent warp technology in their spacecraft,” Spock said.
McCoy folded his arms as he sat back in his chair. “What the hell does this all have to do with what happened to Jim?”
“Maybe there’s some kind of conspiracy within the Pilarian government,” Sulu suggested half-heartedly. “Something they didn’t want us to know about.”
Spock shook his head once. “Illogical. The Pilarians established initial contact with the Federation, so it is highly unlikely they would do so if there is something they are trying to hide.”
“Unless they were after the cap’n himself,” Scott pointed out.
“Why? Why would they be after him?” McCoy asked harshly. “Sulu saw the exact same thing Jim did at that factory--why didn’t they kill him, too? And when would they have had opportunity to do it? Can’t have been at the feast--from the sounds of it, if there was poison in anything at that feast, y’all should have died, too, since y’all ate the same thing. If anything, Scotty should’ve been the one to keel over.”
“The doctor makes an excellent point,” Spock agreed. “Mr. Scott is the only member of the away team to have consumed something the rest of the team did not also consume, and the captain was never alone during the duration of our stay. It seems improbable that there could have been foul play involved.”
“What about the person Captain Kirk saw in the factory?” Sulu wondered. “Could he have been involved somehow?”
“There is no sign that Jim’s…” Spock’s eyes darkened as he considered his next words. “That the captain’s… passing… was caused by anything other than natural causes,” he finished slowly.
“And… as much as I hate to say it… whoever--or whatever--Jim saw could’ve been a hallucination,” McCoy added grimly. “That may have been the only warning. Jim tends to…” The CMO grimaced as he corrected himself. “Jim used to hide things when he was sick or injured. He might not have let you see any other symptoms.”
“So… tha’s it, then?” Scott asked. “He just… keeled over?”
Before anyone could respond, the communicator embedded in the wall chimed. “Commander, the Pilarian ambassador has contacted us,” Uhura announced. “He wants to know what happened to the landing party.”
Spock moved to the communicator and pressed a button. “Understood, Lieutenant. Inform the ambassador I will speak with him momentarily.”
“Yes, sir.”
Spock turned to face the others. “I believe this debriefing is over.” His eyebrows furrowed as he added, “We shall have to wait until an autopsy is conducted to determine if further investigation into this incident is necessary.”
With that, the Vulcan strode from the room, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. “I still… I just can’t believe it,” Sulu said quietly, looking to the chair to the right of the one Spock had been sitting in--the chair Kirk typically sat in during meetings in this room.
McCoy suddenly growled and slammed a fist into the table before shooting up from his seat. “I’ll be in sickbay,” he growled as he moved to the door.
Scott reached out and grasped the CMO’s elbow, making him pause mid-step. “You did everything you could, Doc,” the engineer said quietly. “No one blames ya.”
McCoy’s shoulders slumped a little as he tugged his elbow out of Scott’s loose grip. “I do.”
*****
As soon as Spock stepped in front of the captain’s chair, Uhura brought up Ambassador Giten’s transmission onto the main viewscreen. “Ambassador,” Spock greeted, bowing slightly in respect. “I apologize for our abrupt departure, and for failing to notify you.”
“I am simply relieved to see you well, Commander,” Giten replied, a small smile on his thin lips. “When we discovered your party had disappeared, we searched the grounds to no avail. I trust you are all well? Where is your captain?”
Spock hesitated for a brief moment, eyes flickering over to Uhura. The lieutenant stared back, eyes filled with both grief and support as she looked at him. Spock straightened his shoulders as he looked back to the viewscreen. “It is my great regret to inform you that Captain Kirk passed away a few hours ago.”
A door slid open, but Spock kept his eyes on the viewscreen, watching the Pilarian’s reaction closely. Giten blinked rapidly, and his mouth turned down into a frown--all apparent signs that the ambassador was quite upset. But the blackness of his eyes made it difficult for Spock to see the true emotion reflected there.
“You have my deepest regrets,” the ambassador said gravely. “This is a most terrible loss, and quite a sudden turn of events.”
“Indeed,” Spock replied shortly.
Giten tilted his head slightly. “May I inquire as to what happened? Captain Kirk appeared to be in perfect health when I saw him last.”
“The captain collapsed on the way back to the quarters you had provided for our use,” Spock explained as Scott and Sulu walked onto the bridge. Sulu silently returned to his station, and Scott stood just behind Spock’s left shoulder. The Vulcan hesitated for a moment before adding, “Preliminary reports indicate his death was a result of natural causes.”
The ambassador’s forehead furrowed slightly. “An odd diagnosis for one so healthy and vital as the captain,” he said.
Spock’s hands clenched into fists behind his back. “It is atypical, but there are several possible explanations. A logical elucidation should be discovered during the autopsy back at Starfleet Medical,” he said firmly, voice filled with barely restrained emotion.
“I see,” Giten said softly. He blinked and asked, “And what of our negotiations, Commander?”
“I have assurances from Admiral Christopher Pike that Starfleet shall send another ship to serve as envoy within the month. While this… change in circumstances is most unfortunate, we shall not allow it to derail our efforts to form a relationship with your people.” Spock swallowed as he added, “Captain Kirk would not have wanted that.”
Giten nodded, a smile once more tugging at his lips. “I imagine he would not. Your captain was a good man.”
“Aye,” Scott declared softly as many crew members on the bridge nodded in agreement.
“I shall inform the Assembly of these events,” Giten said. He paused for a moment. “I would request you consider remaining here long enough for our people to hold a proper dau hollfa for the captain. It is our kind’s memorial for someone of great importance. Typically the ceremony requires a body, but we may be able to negotiate around that, as Pilar is not Captain Kirk’s native world.”
Spock’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “What exactly would this ceremony--”
The Vulcan turned as the communicator built into the arm of the captain’s chair suddenly chirped. “Excuse me a moment, Ambassador,” he said, moving to the chair and pressing a button. “Spock here.”
“You need to get down to sickbay. Now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow at the tension in McCoy’s voice. “Is something the matter, Doctor?”
When there was no reply, Spock frowned and turned toward the helm. “Mr. Chekov?”
The young Russian was already entering some commands into his console. “Ze doctor appears to be alone in ze sickbay, sir,” he replied. “I can find no reason for a disturbance.”
The Vulcan looked back at the viewscreen. Giten was staring at him, head tilted slightly in confusion. “I am sorry, but I am afraid our conversation will have to be cut short, Ambassador,” Spock said.
“I understand,” Giten answered. “What about my request?”
Spock thought for a moment before replying, “I would request you send the information regarding dau hollfa to our ship. I shall have to consult with Starfleet before I make a decision, but I will gladly inform you on my choice as soon as it is made.”
Giten bowed low, face disappearing off screen for a moment before reappearing. “It shall be done,” he declared.
Spock nodded once, and the transmission ended. “Mr. Sulu, you have the conn,” the Vulcan ordered, heading for the turbo lift. “I shall be in sickbay.”
*****
McCoy walked forcefully to the turbo lift, keeping his eyes forward as he jabbed the button fiercely. He could feel several sets of eyes focused on him, but he continued staring at the lift doors. If he looked around at all he’d see the Pilarian on the viewscreen.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from launching a tirade against the ambassador of the planet where his best friend had died.
After a long moment, the doors finally slid open with a quiet hiss and McCoy entered, punching the button that would take him back to sickbay. The doors shut just as the Pilarian ambassador announced gravely, “You have my deepest regrets.”
McCoy snorted humorlessly as he slumped back against the walls of the lift. Like I need anymore regret, he thought bitterly, crossing his arms for the few moments it took for the lift to reach its destination.
The sickbay was practically empty, as it was the beginning of Gamma shift. McCoy nodded at Nurse Trachton, the only nurse on duty, as he stepped off the lift and passed by her desk. The young woman glanced up and nodded back, a small, sad smile curving her lips.
He’d planned on going back to the bottle of bourbon that was currently on the desk in his office--he'd already had several glasses before Spock had called him up for the debriefing, and he had every intention of finishing the bottle off.
Yet instead of his office, he found himself leaning against the partition he’d put into place to separate the bio-bed where Kirk’s body lay from the rest of sickbay. Someone--Chapel, more than likely--had smoothed the captain’s tousled hair and draped a sheet up to his chest, bare arms holding the fabric down. If McCoy didn’t know Kirk better, he could’ve pretended the younger man was simply asleep.
But McCoy did know better. There was no need for a blanket in sickbay, thanks to the bio-beds. And Jim had never been that still, not even in sleep.
Behind him, he heard Trachton slip off into the supply room for the nightly inventory. He had a feeling the nurse would be taking more time for the process than usual, which left McCoy alone in the sickbay with Kirk.
Or rather, the shell that used to be his best friend.
“I always thought the job would kill ya, Kid,” McCoy muttered, folding his arms as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sighed a little. “Just thought it’d be in a blaze of glory, not on some kiss-ass diplomatic mission.”
He wasn’t sure why he was disappointed when Jim didn’t respond with some smart-aleck remark; he was well aware Kirk couldn’t do anything like that anymore.
“I’m getting too old for this kinda thing,” the CMO griped, pushing off the partition and moving forward to stand next to the bio-bed.
It’d been awhile since he’d stared at a body. He’d never enjoyed being around bodies--he was a doctor, not a mortician, after all, and it was his job to keep people from becoming bodies. But since the odds were against him never losing a patient, especially on a starship, he’d developed a knack for detaching himself from the situation.
Except he couldn’t now. Not like this. Not with Jim.
McCoy sighed, reaching over to grab the chair someone had left behind and dragging it next to the bed. He sat down, perching on the edge of the seat as he looked at Kirk. He propped his elbows on his knees and cradled his chin in his hands.
“Damn it, Jim,” he murmured after a moment, and something inside him twisted sharply when he thought about the fact he’d never have to say those words again. He swallowed hard and rubbed his face with a hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
He sighed again as he shifted in his seat. This one-sided conversation was too similar to the one he’d had after his father had died. He never thought he’d experience another loss quite as deep and profound as the death of his father.
But then, he’d never thought he’d have a friend quite like Jim Kirk, either.
“God, I’m such a failure,” he breathed as he stared at Jim’s blue-tinged face. After a moment, he tipped his head forward to rest on the edge of the bed. “Couldn’t save my father… couldn’t save my marriage… guess it makes sense I couldn’t save you,” he finished, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. “Seems like I can’t save the things that mean the most to me.”
He swallowed a few times, hand reaching up to grab Kirk’s limp wrist. He grimaced at the feel of too-cool skin beneath his and tightened his grip instinctively, willing warmth back into it. It was exactly like last time--a body cooling on the bed, leaving McCoy behind despite his best efforts to save the one person who meant the most to him; leaving him alone to pick up the shattered pieces of what had once been his life.
McCoy had barely made it through last time. Wouldn’t have made it, if he hadn’t met Kirk on that Starfleet shuttle five years ago.
“I can’t do this again, Jim,” he whispered brokenly, moisture stinging his eyes. “I can’t.”
Thump.
McCoy’s head shot up at the press of a pulse against his fingers. He blinked furiously, adjusting his grip on Jim’s wrist and holding his breath instinctively as he tried to find the rhythm back.
Please, he thought desperately. Please…
The seconds stretched on with no sign of any further movement within Jim’s veins, and McCoy’s shoulders slumped a little with each passing moment, bitterness shoving out the momentary hope he’d felt. “Damn it,” he hissed, loosening his grip slightly but reluctant to completely let go of his friend’s wrist. “I’m such a--”
Thump.
He paused mid-sentence, eyes widening as he glanced up at the chronometer perched above the bio-bed. His grip tightened as he watched the seconds tick by.
“This can’t be…” he murmured softly as the thirty-second mark went past without another heartbeat. “I must’ve imagined it again. There’s no way…” He trailed off, watching the seconds continue to scroll past.
Thump.
The third time he felt the pulse, it seemed stronger than it had before, and McCoy felt the beginnings of a disbelieving smile pulling at his face. Seventy-two seconds. Way too long to be a practical heart rate, and yet he’d felt it. Three times.
He stood to tug the sheet covering the captain’s chest down a bit and laid his ear over Jim’s heart, keeping his fingers wrapped around Kirk’s wrist. “C’mon, Jim,” he muttered, counting down silently.
Seventy-two seconds later, he heard the solid thud-thud of Kirk’s heart in time with the pulse moving beneath his fingers.
“Oh my god,” McCoy breathed, straightening and looking at Jim. Not at the body. At Jim.
Because Jim was alive.
McCoy reached up and turned on the bio-bed’s monitors, keeping them on silent so as to avoid the deafening screech that would result from the computer’s failure to detect a heartbeat. He released Kirk’s hand to move to a nearby comm. “McCoy to bridge.”
A moment later he heard Spock calmly announce, “Spock here.”
“You need to get down to sickbay. Now,” McCoy declared tersely before stepping away from the comm. He heard Spock ask something, but paid no attention as he moved back to Kirk’s side, grabbing the younger man’s wrist as he looked up at the monitor. He just had to wait a few more seconds…
As the seventy-two second mark passed, McCoy not only felt the thump of Jim’s pulse, but he also saw the lines for both Kirk’s heart rate and respiratory functions jump briefly before flat-lining again. “Damn it, Jim,” he declared with a grin, looking back down at the captain. His skin was still too blue, and there was no steady rise and fall of his chest, but the signs were there.
Jim was alive.
The CMO turned as he heard the hiss of the lift’s doors sliding open. Spock strode through the partition a moment later, eyebrows deeply furrowed as he caught sight of the doctor smiling as he gripped Kirk’s wrist. “What have you discovered, Doctor?” the Vulcan queried, eyes flicking from Kirk’s body to McCoy.
McCoy’s grin widened as he pointed at the bio-bed’s monitor. “Just watch.”
Spock quirked an eyebrow but obeyed, watching the flat line of the monitor for a long moment. “I do not understand--”
“Wait for it,” McCoy ordered, glancing at the chronometer. “Just a couple more seconds.”
Spock stiffened as the readings on the monitor jumped again. “What… what does this mean?” he asked softly, looking at the doctor with what McCoy could’ve sworn was hope forming in his eyes.
“He’s alive, Spock,” McCoy replied. “Jim’s alive.”
“How?”
McCoy chuckled a little as he shook his head in wonder, watching the readings spike once more as the skin beneath his fingers jumped. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “His heart’s only beating once every seventy-two seconds, and I think that’s how often he’s breathing, too.”
“It is impossible for a human to survive for long with such vital signs,” Spock replied. “And yet…”
“Jim’s always tried to do the impossible,” McCoy finished. “Makes sense he would be doing it now.”
Spock frowned a little in thought as he looked at the captain. “What is the likelihood that this is result of natural causes?”
“Slim to none,” McCoy replied. His hand tightened around Kirk’s wrist reflexively as he realized the implications of the answer. “Someone did poison him,” he growled.
Spock’s eyes darkened as he nodded once. “It appears so, Doctor,” he declared, voice hardened slightly by anger. “By all outward appearances, the would-be assassin must have used some kind of neurotoxin to create the appearance of death.”
McCoy glanced up as the readings on the bio-bed spiked again and nodded. “I can think of four compounds right now that could pass through the standard blood work undetected. Problem is, none of those are meant to last this long. With each one, the patient dies if there’s no antidote or some other kind of stimulant administered within an hour.”
“It is possible that we are facing an unknown pathogen, as we are currently conducting business with a relatively unknown species,” Spock pointed out. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Is it possible to maintain an acceptable level of brain functions when the vital signs are at this state?”
McCoy’s face darkened at the thought. “No. Jim’s heart’s not beating often enough to send blood moving through his veins, and his respiratory levels aren’t high enough to have a healthy amount of oxygen in his blood. And Chapel did a neural scan when we were trying to revive him. There was nothing.” He sighed, finally releasing Jim’s wrist as he reached up to rub his neck wearily. “Hell, maybe he’s just as far away from us as he was when we thought he was dead.”
Spock tilted his head thoughtfully as he glanced down at Kirk. “There is a way to find out,” he declared slowly, raising his eyes to stare firmly at McCoy.
The CMO stared back at the Vulcan for a long moment before his eyebrows suddenly shot up in realization. “No, Spock,” he declared firmly. “I won’t allow it.”
“Any other scans or tests you may attempt will yield inconclusive results due to whatever pathogen has put Jim in this state,” Spock protested. “A mind meld is the quickest way to determine if his mind has been unaffected by these events.”
“And what happens if it has?” McCoy shot back, folding his arms. “What happens if Jim’s mind is gone and you try and meld with him? What’s to stop that from rebounding on you?”
“I shall be able to detect such a problem before it occurs,” Spock replied calmly. Before McCoy could protest, he added, “I would prefer to have you remain conscious during this procedure, Doctor, but I am ready to proceed as I feel is necessary with or without your presence.”
McCoy scowled. “I don’t like it,” he growled.
“Your disapproval is duly noted, Doctor,” Spock answered wryly, moving to stand near Kirk’s head. He hesitated for a moment before gently pressing his fingers to Kirk’s head and murmuring, “Our minds, one and together.”
tbc...