[fic] The Choices You Can't Take Back, Part 1
Title: The Choices You Can't Take Back (Gonna Give All My Secrets Away)
Rating: R
Warnings: violence, angst, gore, characters death, implications to incest
Part 1
The patient twitched and convulsed. Dr. McCoy locked eyes with the suffering Ambassador Hetherman and he could tell that the dying man hated him. McCoy stared back calmly, unmoved as he counted the ambassador’s dying gasps. Weakly, Hetherman reached up towards his killer, hand shaking as he tried to grab McCoy by the shirt. The toxin worked quickly through the ambassador's system, and his arm couldn’t hold steady. McCoy paid no attention as the hand slapped against his chest, flailing from lack of muscular control, and grabbed his blue medical shirt.
Finally the ambassador's cardiovascular system could take no more. The man’s eyes rolled back, his spine arched, and he hung suspended off the medical bed for one long moment. Then he collapsed, limp. His hand let go of McCoy's shirt and fell to the side of the bed.
Calmly, McCoy pressed his fingers to the ambassador’s wrist, and checked for a pulse. He counted out sixty seconds, and confirmed that there was no beat.
Assured the ambassador was dead, McCoy turned on the medical bed. Immediately, the sensors began whaling in alarm.
He looked over his shoulder, passed the privacy screens, and yelled, "Chapel! Chapel, he's gone under! I need help!"
"So you lost Ambassador Hetherman?" Jim asked.
Bones nodded. He was stretched out across the sofa, his feet dangled over the armrest and his head in Jim's lap. "Yeah.” He heaved a sigh. “But I don't really wanna talk about it." He would give his explanations on paper. The less he talked, the less likely he would say something incriminating. He would much rather just enjoy this private moment between just the two of them in Jim’s quarters.
"No problem," Jim sympathetically ran his fingers through Bones’ hair. Jim knew nothing of the murder, and Bones would keep it that way. Jim’s hands felt good on Bones’ scalp, and he gradually traced his fingers down to McCoy’s naked collar bone. Bones opened his eyes just enough to meet Jim’s playful gaze. "What if I distract you from your bad day?" Jim teased.
Bones breathed out and just the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his grouchy mouth. "I wouldn't mind that."
Jim grinned and trailed his fingers down farther, over the flat panes of Bones' chest, feeling the rise and fall of the doctor’s breath. Jim smoothed his hand over the hard, flat muscles. McCoy reached up and grasped Jim’s hand, and then sat up for a kiss.
In the morning, McCoy received an encrypted message that said, "The egg has been delivered." It simply confirmed that payment for the job had been received.
He felt a bit guilty as he watched Jim take a call from the Admiralty about the ambassador’s death. A very important person had died in the Enterprise’s care, and Jim would be under scrutiny. He didn’t enjoy putting Jim up for the blame that was about to be thrown about.
And he would protect Jim from it. His report on the Ambassador’s death would show cardiovascular failure due to ill health and susceptibility to disease. Jim would not be held accountable for this.
Bones felt sorry for the trouble this caused, but he wasn't sorry for the assassination. Hetherman could take his Romulan gold to the grave with him.
A second message arrived in the morning: a new mission offer. It simply said, "Assassination: Kheje Blumkrest. 10,000 CR."
Strange, that wasn’t much money.
Kheje Blumkrest was a wealthy merchant on Deep Space Three, and was suspected to have made his way into the pocket of the station's commander. Blumkrest was known to be an unkind man and a loan shark. Perhaps whoever had placed the hit thought 10,000 credits was better than 50,000 credits of debt.
In several days the Enterprise would reach DS3, the newest and farthest most space station maintained by the Federation. It had a mostly Human and Andorian population, though there were many minorities there. The Enterprise had supplies to deliver, and up until last night, an ambassador to deliver too. Ambassador Hetherman’s new assignment would have been on DS3. Instead they would be leaving his body there.
Strange that there was so much activity going on around DS3 right now. Two assassinations within weeks, much less days, of each other were not usual. The cautious part of McCoy’s mind warned him that he might want to distance himself. The just and fair dealing part of him couldn’t help but wonder and worry why someone had only been able to afford a 10,000 CR mark. Few assassins would bother taking a job worth so little. The offer would probably sit for months, maybe years.
And the bored part of him, the part that longed to hold a large, heavy assault weapon again, the part that hadn't felt a real adrenaline rush in far too long, that part of him thought this might be fun.
Death of a high profile passenger was depressing, but not the cause for Scotty’s reluctance to start the day. He had inventory to finalize and important reports that couldn’t be filed without it. He would really much rather be working with the moving parts of the Enterprise, but unfortunately junk paperwork came with the job.
Inventory was less boring when physically counting it. But that was two days prior and this was the part where he had to sit down and compare the numbers side by side, then put his official seal of approval on the documents. If he enjoyed that type of thing, he would have gone into Science track. But Scotty was at the top of his department now, and he couldn’t avoid the bureaucracy any longer.
And frustratingly enough, there was a discrepancy. His inventory of metal eater was low.
Hmm. Well, someone, somewhere had counted wrong. Or maybe Keenser ate it. He'd yell at the bugger later for it. Crazy bugger and his crazy alkaline stomach.
Checking the physical stock only proved the discrepancy was there. Scotty would prefer to just let the issue lie. But there's not much a Chief Officer can do to get around bureaucracy. Scotty would have to fill out the forms. He hated filling out forms.
Jim hated filling out forms. But it was better than just an hour earlier when he had stood in his dress uniform and given a summary of the ambassador’s death to the big brass. Now they were waiting for the written account. Bones' medical records gave most of the information, but as Captain, Jim still had to type up his own account of what happened, even though he had been nowhere near the ambassador when the man’s health took a turn for the worse.
It was still relatively early in the day, before 1300 hours. He was encrypting the reports when Bones knocked.
“Everything going well?” Bones asked, honestly concerned to hear about any trouble Jim had talking to the admirals.
Jim sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It went well enough. They want to find some way to blame me, but thankfully I really had no way of preventing Ambassador Heatherman's health. Back when I was a kid, I thought I was real good at getting out of the trouble I caused. But nothing could compare to the trouble I’m always on the edge of nowadays. I misbehaved as a kid, and always got away with it, and now as an adult, people want to hold me responsible for things I haven't done at all.” He shook his head ruefully.
Bones’ eyebrows rose to the middle of his forehead, in a sad and sorry expression. “Are you really in trouble?”
“No, no, but there’s a bastard or two implying I could have prevented it in some way. Your medical report will save me Bones, don't worry.”
Bones walked around the executive desk and sat on the edge, close enough that he could reach out and touch Jim’s arm. “I’m glad to hear that. I won’t let anyone ever get to you.”
“I'm not letting it get to me. I just keep my head above the water, and pretend there are no sharks nipping at my heels. Cheer me up Bones. You came to talk?”
Bones folded his soft doctor’s hands over one knee. “I’d like to stay the night on Deep Space Three, and take two or three days as personal leave.”
A grin pulled at Jim’s mouth. He licked his lips. “Are you actually in the mood for some fun Dr. McCoy?”
“Maybe I am, kid. You up for that?”
“Hell yeah. Here, let me request a room, right now.”
“Two rooms.”
Jim’s enthusiasm waned, just a bit.
“Oh come, don’t give me that face Jim. It’s just for the books. Make it look like we slept apart.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
Jim spread his arms, “What the hell does it matter what it looks like? Everyone out there on that Bridge,” he pointed his finger to the closed door of his office, “knows we’re sleeping together. Everyone in Medbay knows, everyone in the barracks, all the enlisted. It’s not a goddamn secret, Leonard.”
Bones eyebrows went up, the whites of his eyes showing silent offense. “Well excuse me for wanting to be discrete, James. Maybe the Admiralty wouldn’t look down their noses at you if you kept up appearances a little.”
The door opened and poor Scotty had the unfortunate luck of walking in at that moment.
"Captain, I've got the quarterly reports for you. Nothin’ too exciting, but I should mention something in our inventory is- ah, um…” Scotty stopped and stared at the captain, then at the doctor, and assessed how close they looked to strangling each other. “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt..."
Jim smiled, the corners of his mouth tight. “Not a problem at all Scotty. What do you have?”
“Yes, Scotty. Sit. Stay. Enjoy the goddamn show.” McCoy’s voice was clipped and terser by the word.
“Well, uh, it's nothin’ too urgent.” Scotty laid a padd on Jim’s desk, giving the doctor a wide birth because the man looked ready to snap at something or someone. “These are just the quarterly reports from Engineering. It’s about ah hundred pages of junk and one page of real information.” Scotty swallowed as McCoy continued to glare at him like an intruder.
Jim quickly scanned through the report. He resisted the urge to push Bones off the desk. It would be funny to see Leonard flail his arms and fall on his bad-tempered ass. “Anything in particular I should pay attention to?”
“Um," The engineer's eyes darted again to the scowling and impatient doctor, "No Captain.”
“Then I’ll just read through the summary. I’ve got four more department reviews coming in, and Spock always thinks I need to be aware of every single detail. I appreciate you keeping it brief Scotty. You’re the easiest to work with out of all my department heads.”
McCoy turned away from Scotty to glare at Jim instead. “Oh really?”
Jim’s falsely polite smile turned a bit dour, but he didn’t even turn to look at his CMO.
Scotty eagerly took the dismissal. “I’m happy to work with ye Captain. Now unless there’s something you have for me, I think I’ll leave before your doctor hits his boiling point.” With a nod, Scotty quickly backed out of the room.
A few moments later McCoy left, still feeling a bit sour. He’d gotten his own room on the space station, and he’d also gotten a night in his own quarters this evening.
But he needed that single room on the space station, so that he could sneak away during the middle of the night, unnoticed. He didn’t want Jim’s curiosity or scrutiny.
Though he damn well wasn’t happy to be sleeping alone. He’d rather have Jim’s warm, restless body in his arms, kicking and snoring and touchable. They could have gone the whole trip without leaving each other’s side. But work came first, pleasure second.
He took a detour on his way back to Medbay, and watched from hiding as Scotty put away files on a haphazard and cluttered desk. Now that quarterly reports were done, the engineer could go back to taking care of the Enterprise. Missing inventory was on file, McCoy was sure of it, but it had not reached the Captain’s ears. He could hack into the records, and change the reports, and the issue would fade with time.
Like a ghost, McCoy slipped away.
Uhura ate her food slowly and quietly. If there was more company, she might be laughing and chatting happily. But the only other person in the mess room right now was Chekov, and he was strangely quiet.
"Is anything wrong?" She asked.
Chekov started. "Oh? No no! Nothing is wrong! I am just...tired. Not enough sleep."
Through the main communication lines, she had seen him exchange messages with his mother back in Russia. She had seen almost twenty messages back and forth between the two of them in the last week, and had seen his mood sink with each communication. "Is everything okay at home?"
"Oh yes, yes. My mother and father are fine," he nodded, smiling to reassure her. "You are from large family, yes? What are your sisters like?" She allowed him to steer the conversation away from himself.
McCoy spent the rest of the day with patients, and finishing up his own department reports. It had been silent without any comms or messages from Jim, who usually had something to say, friendly or playful, throughout the day. There hadn’t even been any kind of response from Jim when medical’s quarterly report was sent in, and McCoy felt irritated. He was tempted to go and start another fight. But he restrained himself, and made no visits to the Bridge.
He ate dinner alone, and almost went to his room to spend the evening by himself, with some bourbon and a decent book. Instead he got a comm from Christine Chapel.
Come to the rec room with me. Pretend your masculine pride hasn’t been bruised.
He sighed. He considered it. At least showing up like usual would look better than sulking in his room for the rest of the night.
So he went and he took his bourbon with him.
"Leonard, I’m glad you showed." Chapel smiled at him, from her usual spot. He nodded his head to her in a friendly, but unenthusiastic greeting. He sat down in the chair next to her, casting a glance towards the Captain and Mr. Spock with their chess game. He and Chapel had a good view of the game from a couple meters away, and they could talk and watch as the Captain and the Commander battled.
"I thought about just staying in my room tonight,” he admitted.
“It would have looked like you were hiding,” she warned.
He snorted, and took a sip of his drink. “I would have been hiding. What the hell do I care how I look to any of these nosy bastards?” He raised his voice, and some of the other people in the rec room made a point of not looking his way.
Chapel was polite and cultured enough to mute her amusement. “Of course you don’t care what the crew thinks. But you wouldn’t want to admit weakness in front of the Captain, would you?”
Jim moved a rook, and kept his eyes on the board. Jimmy boy thought he could ignore his good doctor? McCoy smiled unpleasantly and lifted his glass in cheers to their game. Jim’s expression turned just a bit sourer, even though he still pointed was not looking in Bones’ direction.
If Jim couldn’t let go of something as petty as the room arrangements, it wasn’t Leonard McCoy’s fault.
Except maybe it was. Maybe the tenseness in Jim’s shoulders right now, the unhappy line in his flat mouth, the sigh of displeasure when Jim would normally being enjoying the game: that was Bones’ fault.
Bones was tempted to go over there and say something, an apology, or just, “Hey, I love you. I do.” But Jim would ask him again about sharing a room, because the kid had some crazy notion in his head that spending time with Bones was a pleasure, and he was going to push the issue until Bones gave in. But McCoy wasn’t going to agree to share a room, not on this trip, and the fight would just escalate until they really weren’t talking at all. So it was better if he stayed away from Jim for now. Even if he just wanted to go over there and say, “I’m sorry.”
McCoy turned his unpleasant smile towards Chapel. “So what's the good word Christine?"
Christine Chapel’s mood didn’t dampen a bit, and he would bet good money that she found the tart moods around her humorous. "Well, I've heard that Giotto from Security is sweet on Lieutenant Hanity from the Bridge."
"The tall, bulky man that Jim calls Cupcake? Heh, I wouldn't have pegged him for the interspecies type."
Chapel leaned in to tell him secretly, "Rumor is she might be a bit interested back."
McCoy snorted and shook his head. "I look forward to seeing how they get passed that anatomy problem."
Chapel swatted him on the shoulder for being so pessimistic, and McCoy grinned just a bit. He tried to hide it with a sip of whiskey.
"You given any thought to those classes?" He inquired.
Christine shrugged, and shook her head. For the first time her mood dampened.
"You'd make a good doctor," he encouraged.
She shrugged again. "Maybe. I'm...considering it." He didn't push the issue any further, for now. But he would bring it up again at the next opportunity. With his track record, he’d probably drive her off too. But it was true, Chapel would make a good doctor.
Spock moved a bishop, and both Jim and Chapel sat up straighter. McCoy looked more closely at the game, squinting his eyes in thought and seeing that Jim was offering his rook as a lure. McCoy lost interest at that point. "I don't know why any of you like that game."
Chapel glanced between the board and him. "It's good for thought."
"It was good for thought when it had just one board. I don't see the damn point of having three."
She ignored his complaining, and silence fell over their corner. Three of them paid attention to the game, the fourth sipped on alcohol and paying more attention to Jim than the board. Around them, the rec room quietly buzzed with evening activity.
Jim was sticking his bottom jaw out just a bit, and McCoy knew the kid was only half focused on the game. He would probably lose tonight. It wasn't Bones' fault. Maybe it was. He couldn't settle between obstinate or regret.
Chapel had let her hair down this night, and pulled it to the side in a loose ponytail. She was watching all the moves Spock made closely, considering what she would do if it was her. Until she realized that McCoy's attention was on her, and not Kirk.
"Doctor?" She asked, confused by the attention. His gaze was unfocused, staring at her, but seeing beyond. He blinked twice, and then came back to the present.
"Sorry Christine. It's nothing."
She reached up to her head. His eyes followed her hand, lingered on her hair, and then he looked away, back to Jim.
Chapel felt uncomfortable, but the attention didn't seem inappropriate, sexual, or anything but just a tired mind unwinding.
"Is there something in my hair?"
He shook his head, watching Jim's hand move a knight. "No, it just reminds me of someone from long ago."
That night, Leonard McCoy dreamed of Samantha Grimm.
"John, let's stay here for a day,” she had asked, slumped against a pallet of brightly labeled kid's toys. The boxes read, "Battle Soldier, the Hero of the Galaxy!" Her hair was a tangled mess, the pale blond strands pulled to the side in a loose ponytail.
John Grimm had been looking out a filthy window, scanning the crowded streets for anyone suspicious. He believed they had lost the bounty hunters. For now.
"We should keep going, Sam.” He didn’t have much patience. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins. “We've lost them, and it's a good chance to make ground. We need to find a boat that will take us south." And they needed money to bribe that boat.
She had laughed, giggled like there was something funny about the situation. John had looked at her in aggravation.
"It's not funny Sam."
"Sure it is," she answered. She chuckled harder, and her shoulders shook.
"How?"
"It just is!" She took a few calming breaths, and leaned her head back, her neck long, slender and pale. John looked away.
"Crazy." He muttered.
"Yeah." Her voice was small now, like it had lost its smile. "Seriously John, can we stay here for a day? We've got until Monday before anyone notices we're in this warehouse. All weekend to rest." She sounded so tired, and John knew she had trouble keeping up.
He hooked his pistol in his hip harness, still wishing he had something bigger that wouldn't get them arrested on the spot, and sat down next to her. She leaned onto his shoulder. Neither of them had showered in days, and they were both covered in sweat and grime. He didn't mind, he had lived in jungle for months on end. But Sam was wearing down, and she wasn't regaining strength. She could walk, but her legs weren’t fully healed. They might never be. He wrapped his arm around her and she leaned into his warmth.
John wondered how they would get the money they needed. Sam hadn't eaten in twelve hours, John hadn't in two days. Maybe he could mug someone without the police noticing.
His sister breathed slowly in the crook of his arm. Her breathing was heavy and thick, like she had fluid in her lungs.
"Go to sleep Sam."
"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbled, eyes sliding shut. He felt just a hint of a tremble in her body.
Leonard McCoy woke up alone.
He reached to the side of his bed, where it was cold and empty, untouched. Shivering, though the air wasn’t cold, he sat up, and pulled on a robe.
Down the hall, and to the left, he punched his personal code into the captain’s quarters, and was relieved to see he hadn’t been locked out.
He crawled into the captain’s bed, and pulled Jim’s sleeping body into his arms. The kid cuddled complacently, mumbling, then falling asleep again.
“I love you,” Bones whispered to him in the safety of darkness.
He tucked Jim's head under his chin, and held on tight. He lay awake with Jim in his arms for the rest of the night, just like he had those many, many years ago with Sam.
Long ago, while he and Sam had been on the run from UAC, John Grimm had gotten the money they needed not by mugging anyone, but by mixing the plastic color dyes and the ammonia cleaning solutions at the warehouse to create crystallized explosives. It was the first item he ever sold on the black market. It also had been a wicked surprise for the UAC agents who were following them.
Jim trembled in his arms, and Bones ran a hand down his back, checking the strong, healthy muscles of Jim's body, feeling his healthy heartbeat, and easy breath. Jim was fine, just a little cold air, so Bones pulled the blanket up tightly around them.
They didn’t speak to each other in the morning, but Jim hadn’t fought when Bones pulled him in for an early morning kiss, slow and faltering.
They had gotten dressed together, silently, but that was usual. Just as they were ready to start the day, Jim had given him a peck on the lips and a teasing squeeze to the family jewels, before slipping out the door. It was a squeeze Bones had no way of reciprocating until that evening. Come the end of the day, the kid sure as hell was going to get what he asked for.
Confident all had been forgiven and forgotten, Bones headed out with a satisfied twitch on his lips. Today Medical would begin inoculations of all Enterprise crew, to prepare for docking at DS3. It was going to be busy.
In two days they would reach DS3, and Jim Kirk spent a lot of his time reviewing the political and social situations of the space station and its neighbors.
But unfortunately, the trek couldn’t go without incident. Discipline was another part of the Captain’s job.
Jim looked disapprovingly upon the young enlisted woman Security brought before him. She was angry, rebellious, and probably shouldn’t have signed up for this job. She reminded him of himself, before the Academy, before his resolutions. But he doubted she had any thoughts of bettering herself yet. She was only a few years younger than him.
“Charges of stealing from your cabin mates. A gold necklace, really? Can’t exactly wear that in engineering. Anything to say?” The Captain asked.
“Fuck you.” She spat.
“O-kay. Not here, and not now, and probably not ever. This is the third incident on your record. Three strikes and you’re out. Unless you have some way of explaining yourself, then you’ll be dishonorably discharged.” He waited a moment to see if she would have anything to say.
“I wanted it. She owed me!”
Jim watched in disappointment as Security escorted her away. Spock comforted him, in his own way. “Well handled Captain.”
“I know,” the Captain snapped irritably. And then he put the issue behind him.
But later that night, when he was sweaty and sore and glowing in bliss, he thought of that enlisted girl, and told Bones about the incident. “Do you think I did the right thing? I could have just given her a slap on the wrist, and let it go.”
Bones rolled closer, his naked front to Jim’s side, and spoke directly into Jim’s ear, “Do you think it would have changed her?”
Jim swallowed, thought back to the long angry ten years of his life, from twelve to twenty two, and his eternal frustration that permeated those years. “No. She wasn’t ready to quit fighting yet. But who’s going to be there to give her a chance when she is ready?” Jim thought of Pike.
Bones hummed in neutral response, not a yes, just an acknowledgement to the problem. The vibration sent shivers through Jim’s skull. “It doesn’t have to be you, darlin’.”
Jim sighed. “There aren’t many people out there willing to give second chances.”
“It doesn’t have to be you, Jim. And besides, she got caught. That’s her fault, not yours.”
The Enterprise made good time, and soon it was approaching dock at Deep Space Three.
Chekov announced arrival plans to the crew, his voice unruffled even though he had had a bad week. Silent but in a good mood, Sulu aligned and set up dock. Uhura was in contact with the control staff for the space station, busy relaying messages and directing docking data to both the control tower and the pilot.
Behind Kirk, leaning against the back of the captain's chair, McCoy shifted restlessly.
"You’re about to get your chance to set your feet on firm ground again," Jim commented absently.
"Firm? Heh, that place is just a spinning contraption ready to tear apart under its own force.” McCoy snarked.
“So are planets,” Jim retorted.
“Have you seen the sickness rate on the space stations? They are a petri dish of inter-species disease, an enclosed pandemic just waiting to happen, far away from any help." McCoy was full of agitated energy, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Spock glanced at him in quiet irritation.
“And here I thought you were looking forward to this.” Kirk wasn't perturbed. "Enjoy your pot of disease. I've got a dead body to deliver."
McCoy scowled. "Don't remind me."
"Why don't you go back to Medical and see if anyone's gotten sick yet?"
McCoy huffed. "Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?"
"You're agitating the green one." Jim pointed a thumb at Spock.
"Let him be agitated for all I care! I can stand where I damn well want to!"
"Bones," Jim rolled his neck back, to look upside down at McCoy standing behind him. "Go. Shoo. Pester someone else." He made the little shooing gesture.
Jim looked cute and playful, so McCoy smiled and pecked him on the lips, in an upside-down kiss. "Hush you," the doctor groused. Then he leaned in and lightly kissed Jim's neck. Jim laughed softly. Spock raised an eyebrow at the inappropriateness of the gesture, but McCoy raised a mocking eyebrow in return. Jim gave Bones a smile, and then turned back to his notes on the space station, as the doctor left the Bridge.
McCoy went to Medical, which was blessedly calm.
One of the supplies they were delivering was the vaccine to Brogan fasciitis. There had been three cases of it on neighboring worlds, and the station had been labeled at high risk. In the bay was a case of the vaccine for delivery, and Leonard had stocked his own bag with several doses. He double checked his medkit, and confirmed it was ready with the necessities and more.
He made sure that everything was right with the supply cabinets, and double checked the computer inventory. Everything was as he wanted it to be. Lastly, he checked the status on that fool Kevin Riley, who was recovering well, but…
“Chapel, is he regenerating blood appropriately?”
“No, still too slowly. I’ve adjusted the growth enhancers, but I’m reluctant to raise it higher than .6%.”
“I understand. I doubt his body would have the energy to handle more. Just keep an eye on him, alright?”
“I already am, doctor.”
“Of course, of course you are." He smiled. "Thank you Christine. Oh, and remember: I plan to stay tonight on the space station.”
“Alone?” She taunted.
McCoy chortled, “O-hoho, is that any business of yours?”
“I was just wondering if you were staying in the presidential suite or the dog house.”
“Ha! If you’re nosing around for dog shit, then I’ll make sure you find it, missy.”
Chapel laughed and swatted him on the arm. “Go enjoy yourself. But don’t get into any more trouble.”
“That’s Jim’s job.”
“And try not to work too hard on your leave. But do get back on time so that I can have my own vacation in a few days.”
“I will, my dear.”
With an amused smile to Chapel, he left the Medbay and went to his own quarters. Most of his time was spent in Jim’s rooms, but despite Jim’s willingness Bones had never fully moved in. He needed space for himself.
He showered with scentless soap, scrubbed his skin till it was pink and fresh, with little possibility of skin flakes that could be left behind. Then he dressed in tight, lightly armored black clothes. Over the blacks, he wore his regular blue uniform and slacks. He had a fresh pair of boots, as generic and common as a sturdy pair could be. He would put them on right before he disappeared off the grid, and discard them when he was done. For now he wore his regular shoes.
He would bring no weapons, because they could be scanned for. He longed to hold an assault weapon again. But no. For this mission, he would use his hands.
He had a hidden padd, electronically guarded from the Enterprise network. It was the one he received mission messages on. Most of the time it was left completely off, without a volt of electricity in it that could catch the eyes of a scanner. He regularly wiped the memory off it.
Currently, it had complete maps of Deep Space Three, showing the hallways, the sewer pipes, the Jeffery tubes, ventilation, and electronic systems. He had memorized them, but didn’t hesitate to review them one more time. Finally, with just twenty minutes until the senior crew boarded DS3, he erased the maps, depowered the padd, and hid it again.
Sulu leaned back in his chair as docking was completed, all connections made. Science was busy gradually stabilizing the Enterprise’s gravity with the station’s, and he kept a casual eye on the all mechanical and system links. After docking, most of his job was passive.
He turned to the kid sitting next to him. “Hey Chekov, you want to go grab something to eat on the space station?”
Chekov shook his head. “Ah, no. Money is little right now. Besides, I vill be spending most of my time vith my family.”
That surprised Sulu. “You have family on the space station?”
“Oh yes yes! My mother, her sister lives here! And she has zree children: Svetlana, her oldest. Zen Osip, he is twelve. And last, маленький Pasha. He was named after me.”
“Heh, I had no idea. Are you all close?”
“I played with zem when zey still lived on Earth. Zen I went to school, and my aunt moved away. Zis will be the first time I see zem in many years. Is exciting.” Chekov did look excited, but there was a hint of the weariness that had been weighing at him for weeks now.
“Well, I got three days approved on the space station. You can have two of my days, if you’d like.” Sulu tried to cheer him up.
Pavel was startled but thrilled. “Yes, I vould! Zat would give me five days. Zank you! You are at all times so charitable to others. I wish I be more like you.”
Sulu shrugged the compliments off. “You need to spend as much time with your family while you have the chance, right? Don’t worry about it.”
Chekov smiled at him, and a little of the weight seemed lifted from his skinny shoulders.
Shortly, the Enterprise crew was approved for boarding. The first ones to embark would be Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. Lesser officers and enlisted crew would follow later.
Jim stood in between Spock and McCoy on the transporter, like he was separating two kids. That didn’t stop McCoy from raising an antagonist eyebrow at Spock.
Spock ignored him, and Jim jabbed an elbow in McCoy’s side, but Bones could see the hint of a smile on Jim’s lips. He wanted to grab Jim by the wrist, or run a hand down the man's back, but he ignored the playful urge, firmly behaving himself.
They beamed onto the space station. For a station so new, it was disappointingly dirty. The welcome area had been swept and cleaned, but that didn’t hide the grime in the corners.
The greeting crew were mostly Andorians, and before pleasantries could begin, protocol called for a security check. Even commanding officers did not get around regulation or security. A small group from another ship was before them, and were being examined in a rush, trying to make ready for the commanding officers of the Enterprise. Spock, Kirk, and McCoy stood and waited politely- until an alarm sounded and one of the men in front of them broke away.
Security pulled a curved bone knife off of the man, but not before the human could scramble away. Bones saw the man dart to the left, in a direct course towards him, as Jim yelled, "Bones, grab him!" Instinct almost had him reach out and grapple the man, but in a split moment, aware of the eyes on him, his still. With intentionally wide eyes, he let the the runaway collide into him.
"What?! Gah!" McCoy fell against the wall and slid down, holding his arms over his head. The attacker unceremoniously kicked the doctor out of the way and ran. Jim jumped for the man, and wrestled him to the ground. Spock finished the fight, grabbing the man, and pinching his neck. The man slumped over immediately.
Security pulled a second long, curved knife off the man as they lead him away. Jim reached out an arm to pull Bones up, sarcastically saying. "Thank you so much for helping with that."
"Well, I didn't expect to need a goddamn phaser on a goddamn space station!" McCoy spat back.
"You shouldn't need one. I thank you for helping, Captain Kirk," a tall Andorian stepped up and greeted them. "It isn't often that we have trouble on Deep Space Three, but sometimes, someone will try to smuggle a weapon onboard with them."
Jim offered his hand to shake in human style, and the Andorian took it, shaking McCoy's hand too, and bowing in greeting to Spock. "I am Captain Shralev tha'Jarka, the governor of Deep Space Three. I am pleased to meet you all."
There were many pleasantries and apologizes involved, and before long, cargo was loaded from the Enterprise to DS3, the deceased included. Shralev stared dispassionately at the body of Ambassador Hetherman. "It is a very sad and unfortunate shame that it should end like this."
McCoy watched the Andorian out of the corner of his eye. Shralev’s face was blank to him, but Bones had his suspicions.
"Did you know the Ambassador well, Captain Shralev?" Spock asked.
"We had spoken before." The Andorian said nothing more.
"I will leave the ambassador to you, Shralev." Jim stepped in before the silence could become awkward. "We'll be traveling to sector 6921 after our stay here, so can I trust you to make sure this man is transported back to Earth safely?"
“Would a space release not be more sensible?”
Jim shrugged. “Starfleet and the Ambassador’s family would like to see the body returned to Earth.”
Shralev sniffed. “I thought humans were more practical than that.”
It was Spock who argued, raising an incriminating eyebrow. “I thought an Andorian would understand the sensitivities surrounding this sort of this.”
“I thought a Vulcan would consider the movement of an already dead body pointless and wasteful.” Shralev’s expression was less than nice.
Spock stiffly answered, “You would be wrong.”
“Shralev,” Jim stepped in, “I have no personal interest in the ambassador’s body. If you think it would be more practical to send it out into space, then talk to Starfleet Headquarters about it.” Jim turned just a bit and caught the eyes of Spock and Bones. “I think the crew can handle unloading the rest of the cargo. Why don’t we all go explore the space station?”
"Please do," Shralev added, even though Jim wasn’t looking at him anymore.
Jim smiled nicely at the governor, then ushered Spock away from the Andorian. The Vulcan shook off Jim’s attempt to lead him by the arm.
McCoy followed behind silently. He had said nothing during the exchange, but he had a hunch on who placed the bounty on Ambassador Hetherman's head. Shralev couldn’t know what evidence was on the body, but he still wanted to keep it from being reexamined. McCoy was happy with that.
He didn’t notice that Jim was watching him, with just a bit of confusion.
Part 2
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