PART THIRTEEN [CLOSED]
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As a new guideline: for the time being, I'd like to put a damper on the re-requesting going on. Please only re-request something if it has been more than a month since you asked for it and it still hasn't been filled. I'd like to remind everyone that old parts still have many ( Read more... )
By which time, McCoy thought bitterly, half the population will have been exposed to the virus. His sense of defeat was overwhelming. He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“I have discussed a proposal with the captain and Mr. Scott that will allow you an intervention.”
McCoy abruptly stood, his heart racing. “What intervention?”
“Through the detonation of biological warheads high in the atmosphere under cover of an electric storm, we will disperse the antidote to the virus. By aiming them at the areas of densest population, the greatest number of inhabitants will be immunized. Mr. Scott and his team are currently working to produce five devices.”
McCoy beamed at Spock, squelching any sarcastic comments about Vulcans maybe having hearts after all. His earlier lethargy gone, he left his office, quickly heading in the direction of the path labs. “We’ll need an antidote that works via the pulmonary system through inhalation. How much of it do we need to manufacture?” he asked over his shoulder, as the Vulcan followed in his wake.
-=-=-
Stardate 2259.42, CMO’s personal log, Leonard McCoy recording. Thanks to some great planning on StarFleet’s behalf, we’re in the middle of bumfuck nowhere on the first anniversary of the Battle of Vulcan. Every other ship has managed to make port somewhere, but not us. We’ve been here for a week studying the Swan Nebula and its thirty five host stars. It truly is an awesome sight, but really, I think pretty much everyone wanted to be someplace else for this date. Uhura worked with Jim to come up with a suitable way to commemorate this day and it went off well. With the exception of the few seasoned hands who came from other ships or ground placements, everyone lost friends and fellow students. It was the day I lost my CMO, Dr. Puri, and found myself with a battlefield promotion that was never rescinded. At the event, Jim showed a maturity and a real command presence as he solemnly spoke, that took my breath away and I could tell that Spock, who was standing beside me, was impressed. Jim’s come so damn far from the beaten-up youth I met that fateful day on a StarFleet shuttle, though I guess he could say the same of me. The ceremony was followed by a reception, after which everyone went their separate ways to spend time with their own thoughts and memories. I’ve come back to my cabin, but I’m feeling too restless to stay here.
McCoy approached Spock standing silently at the great observation window, the colors of the nebula that fell through the transparent tritanium reflecting off his face. “It’s been quite a year, hasn’t it?”
Spock didn’t turn. “Indeed.”
A year ago he couldn’t have imagined wanting to be alone in the same place as Spock. In that time, they’d grown more comfortable with each other and had learned to respect one another and the skills they brought to their respective roles.
McCoy walked to stand next to Spock. “I’m sorry about your mother.” He was sorry for the whole goddamn planet, but he couldn’t get his head around those kind of numbers. It was easier to bring it down to the individual. Kirk had described to him the look on Spock’s face as he’d materialized on the transporter, his arm held out trying to hold onto her.
Spock nodded at the words but remained silent.
McCoy looked out at the stark beauty of the nebula and wondered how he’d ever feared space when it held such sights as this. “I killed my father,” he said quietly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock’s head snap round. “Doctor?”
“Leonard. I’m not telling you this as a StarFleet officer.”
“Leonard,” Spock repeated, the first time he’d ever used the name.
“He had an untreatable disease and was wracked with pain. I worked night and day to find a cure. He begged me to allow him to die, to give him the means to take his own life. I couldn’t help his pain - any treatment left him like a vegetable so he refused it. In the end, I gave him what he wanted.”
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