Fic: "Crossfire" (13/19)

[mijan]

Title: "Crossfire, Part 13"
Author: Mijan
Series: ST: XI
Character/Pairing(s): Kirk&McCoy, Pike, Scotty
Rating: PG-13

Author’s Notes: This story is part of the Academy-era story arc, which includes “Convergence” and “And All the King’s Men.” “Crossfire” is a direct sequel. Several things in this story will not make sense unless you’ve read AAtKM first.

Summary: Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy are on top of the world at the academy until it all comes crashing down around them. Trapped in their own mystery of politics, sabotage, and possible murder, it quickly becomes impossible to know who to trust. Worse, Jim might still be a target. With a dangerous criminal on the loose and Academy leadership not doing enough, Jim and Bones have to get their lives back together and find out what happened... before it happens again.

*********


CROSSFIRE, Part Thirteen

“Thanks for meeting me out here, Jim.”

Jim rubbed his face and yawned, glanced around the almost-empty hangar, then gave Leonard a look of pure exhaustion. “This is payback for me waking you up the night before that flight, isn’t it?” he groaned.

“Nah. I’ll get you back for that later.”

“Asshole.” He held out his hand. “Coffee.”

Leonard grinned lightly and placed his spare canteen in the outstretched fingers.

Jim snapped open the lid and took a deep swig before flinching and coughing, then opening his mouth wide and panting. “Ouch! Mother fucker...”

“It’s coffee, Jim. It’s supposed to be hot.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “It’s supposed to be caffeinated. And anything that keeps that caffeine from hitting my bloodstream faster is a problem. That includes scalding hot temperatures.” He took a smaller sip, only wincing slightly this time as he began walking towards the flight simulator facility at the end of the hangar.

“Well, I don’t prefer to administer stimulants without a solid medical reason, but hyposprays are quite effective for rapid delivery of -”

Jim stopped short and snapped back over his shoulder. “That will be quite enough, you trigger-happy sadist.” He continued walking.

Leonard sighed and fell into step next to him. “I’m kidding. Not sleeping well?”

“I’m busy, Bones! I’m still trying to catch up with classes.” He took another sip. “And it’s 0500. Humans aren’t meant to be awake at this hour.”

“That’s rich, coming from Cadet Sleep-is-Optional Kirk.”

“Bones, please drop it.”

Leonard would have loved to drop it, but the dark circles under Jim’s eyes were something he’d not seen on the kid in a long time, even while Jim had been in the hospital. He’d seen Jim function on three hours of sleep or less without showing major signs of fatigue... not like this. The kid was hyperkinetic and seemed to run on a perpetual power source. But still, pushing him right now wasn’t going to help.

Besides, as the door to the sim facility came into view as they rounded the corner, Leonard had other concerns push to the forefront of his mind. He tapped his ID against the reader, then pressed his thumb to the pad.

“Leonard McCoy, Cadet. Authorization confirmed. Flight simulator Four reserved from 0500 hours to 0630 hours.”

The door slid open, and Leonard walked through, but stopped short as he realized that there were no footsteps following him. He looked back over his shoulder. “Jim?”

Jim was frowning, looking at the ID reader. “It doesn’t require me to badge in at the checkpoint if I’m going with someone else. The door is opened, but I haven’t been ID’ed by the security system.”

Frustrated, and maybe a bit concerned, Leonard walked back to Jim and clapped a hand down heavily on his shoulder. “Jim, you badged into the main hangar, didn’t you? And the security guard saw you, right?” He blew out an heavy breath. “Come on, kid. You’re over-thinking it.”

Nodding warily, Jim followed him into the sim facility. To Leonard’s continuing frustration, he didn’t seem to relax much as they climbed into the simulator. Taking a sip of his own coffee, Leonard was just grateful that they didn’t ban beverages from the simulators. He sat down heavily in the pilot’s seat. “So... professor. Where do we begin?” He looked up.

Jim was making no move to sit down. In fact, he was glaring at the copilot’s seat.

Leonard furrowed his eyebrows questioningly. “Jim?”

As if snapped from a trance, Jim shook his head. “Sorry. Sorry, I was just... thinking.” With a deep breath, he flopped into his own seat with a patented Jim-Kirk-fake-grin. “So... first step, Bones. For your class, they’re only going to require a Level One pre-flight check, not a full system’s diagnostic. Start with the navigation computer.”

With Jim’s voice guiding him, Leonard began moving through the steps he’d been shown in his class. It was easier with a familiar voice guiding him. Still, the nerves hadn’t started yet because he was still on the ground, with the door open, and the full knowledge that this was just a simulator.

As he worked, he thought of old-fashioned simulators, where it was so obvious to the pilot that it was nothing more than a glorified computer screen with joystick controls in a pod that only vaguely resembled the actual aircraft. That might have been nice, but it wouldn’t do a damned thing to help him get ready for the psychological impact of the real thing.

Modern simulators, on the other hand, felt like the real deal. Looked like the real deal. And until inertial dampeners were engaged after takeoff, you could actually feel the shuttle shifting around you. You could feel the bumps of air turbulance, and the popping of your ears as the cabin pressurized. The image on the viewscreen looked as real as if you were peering out the viewport of a real shuttle. Only the rational knowledge that it was a simulator made any difference. But who said that phobias were rational?

“And finally,” Jim said, “cross-check the positioning system with the maneuvering thrusters.”

Leonard ran through the last calibration check, and finalized it with a nod. “Cross-check complete. “99.97% accuracy. We’re within tolerance limits.” He let out a nervous breath through pursed lips. “Okay, so that means it’s time to take ‘er up, huh?”

Jim nodded. “You’ve done it in class though, right?”

“It... uh... didn’t go so well.”

Jim’s mouth formed a small “o” as he nodded understandingly. “Well, if you need to panic a bit to get it out of your system, I won’t let that affect your grade.”

“Why thank you, sir,” Leonard drawled. “Your generosity is heartwarming.”

Jim looked at him for a moment with a curious smile on his face. “Do what you need to do, old man. You know, I wonder if there’s a geriatrics flight program.”

“What the hell? Geriatrics? You pompous infant.” Leonard checked his harness straps with renewed determination. “Just for that, kid, I’ll get you back double for waking me up in the middle of the night. And eating my lo mein again.”

“Tasty lo mein, Bones. And I think you owe me lunch, seeing as I’m going to miss breakfast.”

“You eat your way through the day anyway, kid.” He hit the controls to seal the outer doors and airlock.

“But at least it doesn’t go straight to my gut. You’re gonna get soft, Bones. Especially with all that chocolate cake. You don’t burn it off as easily when you get old.”

“We’re not all graced with the amazing metabolism of Jim Kirk,” he snapped back. Sure, he knew Jim well enough to know what the kid was doing, and he had to admit, he was grateful. It was a good distraction from the way his ears popped as the cabin pressurized.

Jim continued to intersperse instructions with banter, and before Leonard knew it, he’d engaged the anti-grav maneuvering system and his “shuttlecraft” was floating twenty meters off the ground.

“Twenty meters... thirty-nine thousand to go,” Jim teased.

Leonard growled and activated the atmospheric thrusters. Leonard’s eyes were glued to the screen and computer displays as he made adjustments for wind-sheer and entered course corrections. The fake viewscreen showed the surface of the earth dropping away beneath him, and the artificial image of San Francisco disappeared as they moved westward over the ocean - wide open blue skies and steel gray water. It was all fake, but it still damned realistic, and quite discomforting. Clouds and storms and shimmering water, and a shuttlecraft wouldn’t float if we fell into the ocean, would it? He shook off that line of thought as the shuttle climbed higher. He could feel the nerves creeping up on him, but he held them back. Jim was here with him, and that helped. The altimeter rattled off data, including atmospheric pressure. “Well, here’s the altitude where we suffocate to death,” he grumbled.

A split second later, he heard a tight squeak.

“Jim?” He risked a quick glance to the side.

Jim was pressing his back tightly against the seat, one hand gripping his harness, and the other clinging to the copilot’s computer panel. Face pale, breathing rapidly.

“Jim?” Leonard asked again, this time more firmly. “You okay, kid?”

Jim let out a tight, shuddering breath, swallowed, and seemingly forced himself to relax. “Sorry, Bones... bad memory, that’s all.” He choked out a broken laugh. “Funny, I can remember some stuff, but not the rest of it. Can I take a different selection from that menu?”

There had been plenty of times since Leonard had met Jim Kirk that he had found himself speechless, but this was something completely different. The simulator had Leonard feeling uneasy, but the knowledge that it was fake, and having Jim there with him... he’d been doing okay. But Jim was no pillar of strength right now. The attempted fake smile was critically broken, and he was still pale.

With his attention turned to Jim now, Leonard pushed his own self-centered fears aside. “Jim... have you been having problems with flying since the crash?”

“No!” Defensive now. “No, Bones. I haven’t even flown since then! How could I be having problems with flying?”

Leonard turned his eyes back to the viewscreen and made a minor course correction. “Have you used a simulator since then?”

There was a pause, just a heartbeat too long. “Six times.”

“Six?” Leonard couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “Jim, you said you came back here for the first time since the crash... last Monday. It’s Tuesday. You’ve been down here six times in eight days?”

“Twice last night.”

“Jesus, Jim!” Leonard turned to look at him with sharp disapproval and newfound understanding. “Is that why you didn’t get any sleep?”

“Couldn’t sleep anyway,” came the mumbled reply.

Leonard looked at him for a moment longer. “You never told me how the inquiry board went yesterday.” In fact, after Jim had rushed out of the cafeteria, their only communication had been a message from Jim late in the afternoon, asking when Leonard wanted to meet him for flight sim training. Leonard’s message asking about the investigation had been summarily ignored. “And is that why you couldn’t sleep anyway?”

“Yeah... hell, Bones, can we drop this?” He pointed towards the altimeter. “We’re about to break the ionosphere. You need to focus on establishing your orbit.”

Frowning, Leonard turned his attention back to the simulator. Jim had come to help him with this, after all, so it made sense to focus on flying for now. He’d ask Jim about the investigation board... and his odd panic in the shuttle... later.

However, Leonard did notice one thing. With his concern directed at Jim, his own flight-jitters had almost been forgotten.

*********

Jim yawned and poked absently at his scrambled eggs. He really didn’t have the energy to go to class today. Granted, his first class was only at 1000h on Thursdays, but if he tried to take a nap now, he’d never get back up in time for Battle Tactics. He’d managed to get a flight simulator slot at 0600h, and he needed all the re-familiarization he could get.

His flight yesterday had been atrocious.

No, his instructor hadn’t noticed. He’d been paired with Okoru, and she had been the primary pilot for the flight. Just a simple orbital maneuvers set. Nothing major. But by the time he’d set foot on solid ground again, his stomach had been roiling in waves of nausea and nerves.

I might throw up on you.

Yeah, that thought had crossed his mind a few times. It might have been funny... if it hadn’t been so painfully accurate. Bones had noticed his nervousness on Tuesday morning, but by the time they’d finished the simulation, he’d been able to refocus Bones’ attention on critiques of his actual piloting performance, technical details, and... of course... the hearing.

Oh yeah, that had been fun to talk about. Heh... and Bones wonders why I’m not getting any sleep. Not only do I have to deal with the bullshit itself, but then I had to hash through it all over again in front of a bunch of brass who seem to think I’m incompetent. Not for the first time, and he knew it would be far from the last, he wondered why the hell he couldn’t just dump all the bullshit in the reprocessor and walk away from it.

He hadn’t mentioned the conversation with Toland, however. Bones had never liked her anyway. Right now, he wasn’t particularly happy with her himself.

“Morning, Kirk. You gonna eat those eggs, or just stab them to death?”

Jim blinked back to his senses as he realized that Cadet Romano had just sat down across from him. He quickly remembered that there was someone he was possibly less happy with than Toland. He tried to force a neutral grin, which he was sure looked more like a grimace. “Hey Romano. Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” he asked around a mouthful of toast. “Hand-to-hand practice this afternoon?”

Jim snorted and stabbed his eggs again. “It’s a review of basic grappling and throws today. Doesn’t exactly warrant that much thought.”

Romano chugged about half of his orange juice in one go, and Jim found himself disgusted just by watching. And for that matter, why the hell had Romano joined him? They seldom socialized outside of hand-to-hand, or when they crossed paths in the shuttle hangar with their respective flight squads. Had Admiral Romano told his son something?

“I suppose not, Kirk,” Romano said as he put down his orange juice. “Classes, then?”

“Classes are fine, man,” Jim said, trying to suppress a groan. Why wouldn’t he just go away?

“Hmmm.” He stuffed a sausage in his mouth and swallowed almost without chewing. “How’d your first real flight back go?”

Instantly, Jim’s irritation boiled over. “Why do you care?” he snapped harshly. “I’m back in the air. It’s good. I’m going to apply to test for assistant instructor status once I pass the maneuvers unit. Maybe sooner. Anything else you need to interrogate me about?”

Romano looked stunned. His hand stopped halfway to his mouth, fork and all, and a piece of egg fell off his fork onto his plate. “I... good luck? I mean, I didn’t want to be intrusive. I was just... concerned.”

Jim sat up straighter in his seat and leaned over his plate, looking at Romano sharply. “Concerned? Really? But not concerned enough to mention that it’s your father leading the investigation into the crash, were you?”

Romano looked like he’d been slapped. Arrogant bastard - served him right. But the slapped appearance quickly turned into pallor. “What?”

“Your father interrogated me in my damned hospital room, Mario!” He didn’t want to use the guy’s last name, because right now, ‘Romano’ was the Admiral, and Mario was the bastard who shared Romano’s face with a few less wrinkles. Kirk growled in anger, partially at the cadet sitting across the table from him, but also at himself for not recognizing the familiarity sooner. “And then he grilled me two days ago with the investigations board. Come on, don’t act like you didn’t know.”

For several long seconds, Romano sat there, absolutely motionless except for the twitchy shaking motions his head was making. He went about two shades paler. “I... oh fuck... shit, Kirk... I didn’t... I had no idea.”

“Really?” Jim injected as much scorn as he could into the word.

“Yes, really. I... shit.” His jaw had gone slightly slack, and his eyes were unfocused, looking off somewhere over Jim’s shoulder.

And oddly, Jim believed him. He didn’t want to, and didn’t quite know what that meant, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Cadet Romano had no idea his father was leading the investigation. Which was just fucking weird. So was the fact that the concept seemed to make Cadet Romano extremely uncomfortable.

He was just about to ask Romano if he knew anything at all about the investigation when a persistent beeping interrupted him. Jim pulled out his comm unit and flipped it open. “Cadet Kirk.”

“Cadet Kirk, this is Commander Toland.”

Jim blinked in surprise. “Sir?”

“You are ordered to report to the Starfleet Medical Administrative Pavilion, room 1022, at 0830 hours this morning for a formal board of inquiry. Take the trans-bay shuttle.”

There was no familiarity in her voice - absolutely businesslike and distant. Jim swallowed tightly as he checked the chrono on the wall. It read 0802 hours. Twenty-eight minutes. Plenty of time. At least, more time than the last summons he’d received. He held back a sigh and replied neutrally, “Yes, sir.”

“Toland out.”

Jim flipped the comm unit shut and glowered at Romano. “Looks like your dad wants to pester me again. See you at the field house for hand-to-hand.” He took some satisfaction in the way Romano flinched.

As he gathered his tray and bag, Jim mused darkly about deja-vu and the administration loving to interrupt meals he wasn’t enjoying anyway. He dumped his tray in the reprocessor, hurried out the door, and ran to the transport pad where the next shuttle was already loading. He wondered why this inquiry was going to take place over at the medical campus, and he hoped they didn’t intend to question him about his memory and physical recovery. Or worse, to give him grief for his escape attempt from Starfleet Medical.

This just gets better and better, he thought as he strapped himself into the seat. He was so irritated and rushed that he almost didn’t realize that he was boarding a shuttle until the hatch sealed shut with a heavy clank. Instantaneously, he felt his heart begin thudding furiously in his chest.

Shit, no. It’s just a short transport, Kirk, he told himself. Get a grip. You’re not even going to be higher than a hundred meters. Three minutes to cross the bay. Three minutes.

Repeating the mantra to himself, over and over again, Jim managed not to outwardly panic until the shuttle landed on the medical campus shuttle pad. He hated the way his legs wobbled unsteadily as he stood. Cringed to note how his feet didn’t seem to want to find the floor solidly, and that he felt out of breath as he walked quickly towards the admin building. The building loomed in front of him, and he realized that the nerves he’d felt on the shuttle were nothing. At least he knew what to expect there. As he passed through the front doors of the building, he realized that he had no clue what they wanted with him today. That was terrifying.

He checked the building map in the front lobby, flashed his ID to the man at the security checkpoint, and was waved through a door to a long hallway. He wasn’t late. He still had almost ten minutes according to the chrono he passed on the wall. Would they make him wait outside? Make him sweat a bit? Tell him to come in right away so that he wouldn’t have time to think? Maybe he’d stop by the restroom. He had time. He’d just -

“Jim?”

Jim’s head snapped around so quickly that his neck twinged, making his eyes water. Blinking furiously, Jim let his mouth fall open in surprise. “Bones? What the hell are you doing here?”

Bones stood from the chair he’d been sitting in outside... room 1022, Jim realized... and frowned. “I was about to ask you the same question, kid. Hell, it’s a Thursday - I figured you’d be sleeping in.” The frown turned marginally scornful. “You could use the sleep.”

Jim quickly waved that off. No need to let Bones know he’d been awake since... fuck, he had no idea how early he’d woken up, to be honest. It didn’t matter. “I got summoned to another inquiry board. I figured they’re going to review my whole recovery process, have my memory called into question to discredit my testimony on Tuesday, or lecture me for my escape act.” He groaned lightly, closing his eyes. “So that means they’re going to have you testify, too, I’m guessing.”

Bones took a step in closer, looking around nervously. “They didn’t tell you why you were called? Or what they’re investigating today?”

“Well, no, but I just assumed -”

“Doctor McCoy, Cadet Kirk.” A sharp female voice accompanied by equally sharp heels clacking on the floor interrupted them, and Jim turned to see the woman dressed in a medical corps dress uniform walking towards them. “You’re both here, so let’s not waste any more time. This way.” She continued straight past them and proceeded to the door to 1022, which opened to reveal a formal board room.

Jim cast an inquisitive look sideways at Bones, hoping to get some sort of answer or explanation, but Bones only growled low in his throat and shook his head.

“It’s too late for that, kid. Just... come on.”

This room was arranged differently than the boardroom Jim had been in on Tuesday. It was actually smaller, just a bit, but seemed more crowded. Instead of one long table at the back wall, there were three shorter tables arranged in a broad U-shape, with a podium just inside the U. A smaller table with three chairs sat off to the side.

The officer who had led them into the room waved a hand at the smaller table, indicating for them to sit down. They’d just barely sat when the door opened again and a group of seven officers filed into the room... all wearing Medical Blues. Jim only recognized one of them - Doctor Livingston, who was now wearing his Captain’s rank. Not a single one of the officers wore faculty gray uniforms, or the colors of any other branch. And not a single one of them was Admiral Romano.

Frowning in confusion, Jim looked over at Bones again, meaning to ask him what was going on, but Bones was on his feet, standing at attention. Jim realized he should have done the same when the officers had entered the room, but he’d been too distracted looking for Romano. Quickly, he was also on his feet, hoping he hadn’t made things worse for himself already. He was so overtired, and this stupid boardroom with its muted colors was dragging his eyelids down heavily, making him feel stupid.

The officers had settled around the table, but the admiral at the center of the table that was the crosspiece of the U remained standing. He was slender with a mild demeanor and a pad of dark brown hair that was thinning slightly on top. He seemed like the anti-Romano, Jim thought wryly.

Clearing his throat, the admiral spoke. “Let’s get right down to business, shall we? Cadet Kirk, please step forward. Doctor McCoy, you may have a seat.” He pulled out his own chair and sat, looking at Jim and waiting.

Jim threw one nervous glance back at Bones as he walked to the podium, feeling extremely exposed. This was awkward. It didn’t feel anything like the interrogation from the week before. None of these officers - all doctors - were glaring or glowering at him. In fact, they seemed to be looking at him with a bizarre sort of sympathy, which was possibly more disconcerting.

Don’t let your guard down, Jim told himself as he came to attention in front of the podium and saluted. “Cadet James T. Kirk, reporting as ordered, sirs.”

He was met with a dry chuckle from one of the doctors off to the side, but the Admiral in the middle merely returned the salute. “Relax, Kirk. You’re not in trouble.”

If anything, that caused Jim to tense up even more, even though his stance went to at ease. “Aye, sir,” was all he said, waiting for more before he revealed anything.

The Admiral smiled at him. “I’m Admiral Swerdlow, head of Neurology at Starfleet Medical. We’d like to know how you’ve been feeling lately, Kirk.”

The simple earnestness on the Admiral’s face combined with the unexpected question and Jim couldn’t help himself. He burst out laughing. “Wait, I got summoned to a board of inquiry, and you want to know how I’m feeling?” he asked, almost choking on the incredulity.

“Yes, actually,” Swerdlow said kindly. “We need to know the quality of your recovery in order to evaluate the care you’ve received at Starfleet Medical.”

They want to know if I’m having memory problems... gaps that would cause them to dismiss my testimony. “I’ve been fine, Admiral. I’m caught up on almost all of my classes. My grades haven’t slipped. I’ve been back to hand-to-hand training for over a week without any unusual pain.”

“Hmmm,” the Admiral hummed to himself as he looked over a PADD. “Have you continued to have headaches since you were cleared for full duty?”

Am I under oath? Fuck it - I’m in Starfleet. I’m always under a damned oath. “I’ve had a few headaches, sir, but nothing serious. I’ve been under a bit of stress, catching up with everything.” And dealing with the investigation bullshit.

Swerdlow nodded thoughtfully, and glanced down at his PADD again. “Minor headaches are normal for a few months after a head injury, as long as the pain isn’t severe. Any difficulty concentrating?”

Jim didn’t like where this was going, but he’d expected it. “Only when the stress adds up too much. I’ll admit, I haven’t been getting as much sleep as I should.” He blinked as he realized he might have let something slip there. “I mean, I’ve just had so much catching up to do. Staying up late studying and all.”

Admiral Swerdlow’s thin lips finally tilted into a frown, and he tapped something into his PADD.

Shit, shit, shit.

“What about memory problems?” Swerdlow asked neutrally.

Jim plastered on a grin in an attempt to hide his increasing nervousness. “If I was having memory problems, I think my grades would be slipping.”

“According to the report I received, Kirk, you’ve been having difficulty recalling details of your shuttle mission. Is this true?”

Knowing he’d been caught in the lie, he squared his shoulders tried for a look of innocent apology. “I haven’t been able to recall that clearly since the day it happened. I remember most of the mission, sir. What I meant is that I haven’t had any continuing memory problems. I’m fine, really. The only stuff I can’t remember is from the day of the crash itself. And besides, who would want to remember something like that, right?”

The thin attempt at humor seemed lost on the Admiral, who only nodded and tapped at his PADD. “That’s actually not abnormal at all, Kirk. While any gap in memory is unfavorable, nothing about that particular memory gap is cause for medical concern. We just needed to confirm that those are your only memory gaps. So that’s good. Very good.” He looked up from the PADD again. “Have you had any emotional disturbances?”

“Emotional?” Jim blurted incredulously. “One of my good friends just died, sir, so I think I could be forgiven for being just a bit upset.”

“That’s actually not what I meant.” Swerdlow sighed gently. “While this is not the purpose of calling you here today, as a doctor, I would take this chance to make the suggestion that you should seek grief counseling, if you haven’t already.” He tipped his head forward, just slightly. “Grief after a friend’s death, however, is not considered an emotional disturbance... medically, that is. Just like your memory gap from the crash, it’s normal. What we would like to know is if you’ve had any emotional upsets or reactions to things that are atypical for you. Behavioral changes. It would be an indication of how well your brain is recovering from the severe trauma incurred during the crash.”

“No, sir, I...” Jim’s voice caught, just for a second. He’d never been scared to get on a shuttlecraft before. In fact, he’d always loved flying. It almost seemed hopeful - he could blame the fear on the injury, not his own psychological weakness. And maybe, as the last vestiges of the injury healed away, he’d go back to normal. “Well... I’ve got to admit, I feel a bit less than fond of shuttlecrafts right now.”

A small grumbling noise from behind him caused Jim to look back over his shoulder. Bones was sitting at the small table, looking extremely critical, arms folded over his chest. Quickly, Jim looked back to the officers at the table.

“Okay, so I seem to have developed a slight fear of flying,” he admitted reluctantly.

Admiral Swerdlow was nodding slowly, tapping something else into his PADD. “Not unexpected, considering. Not unexpected at all. You experienced a severe physical and emotional trauma aboard a shuttlecraft. Then I would also add a recommendation that you mention your issues with shuttlecraft flight to the counselor you see.”

“Am I being ordered to see a counselor, sir?” A sudden sense of fear started churning in Jim’s stomach, not about the shuttlecraft, but being ordered to see a counselor. What other issues might be brought up in a counseling session? What dirt from his past might end up in his psych profile? No fucking way - this was a can of worms that did not need to be opened. Not with all the other shit going on.

The Admiral’s mouth twisted pensively, but he shook his head. “I’m not here to order you to do anything, Cadet Kirk. I’m making a recommendation as a medical professional. We want you to take care of yourself. Treatment for traumatic brain injury has come a long way, but healing takes more than just physical treatment sometimes.” He leaned back in his seat, hands spread before him on the table. “But at the moment, we’re merely investigating the physical aspects of your treatment here at our facility. Kirk... while you were here, did you experience anything that you felt was detrimental to your treatment? Do you feel that the doctors and nurses here provided the best care possible?”

Jim stared at the Admiral, mouth slightly opened, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to think or say in response. What is this? A damned satisfaction survey? No, they were fishing for something, and Jim wasn’t sure what. “I was well cared-for, sir. I’ve never much liked doctors, that’s all, so I apologize if I wasn’t too keen on hanging around on a biobed for a week. I know I shouldn’t have left -”

Swerdlow waved him off. “Kirk, we understand what happened that day. A series of severe emotional upsets after a head injury often lead people to make irrational decisions -”

Suddenly feeling defensive, before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “So I wasn’t in my right mind?”

Admiral Swerdlow only looked at him sadly. “Medically speaking, no, you weren't. And through no fault of your own. If anything, it is the fault of the staff here for not watching out for your interests more closely.”

“You mean like how they weren’t watching out for my interests when they let Admiral Romano and Captain Weise start interrogating me right after waking up from surgery?” Instantly, he regretted pushing that far, wishing he could sink into the floor and disappear as the hot flush of embarrassment mixed with his defensive irritation. It was as if his brain-to-mouth filter had been switched off. He had to get that under control.

But instead of receiving a dressing down for his lack of decorum, Doctor Livingston merely stood from his seat and faced him. Despite the formality of his dress uniform, he looked uncomfortable and out of place. “Kirk, I’m horribly sorry that I let that happen to you. They insisted that they needed to ask a few questions vital to their investigation, and they were quite persistent. I suppose I didn’t see the harm at the time, but I should have. And I should have put my foot down on that one. I don’t often deal with the business end of Starfleet here. I’m just here to take care of my patients.”

He continued to stand, looking at Jim with such contrition that despite the man’s rank and seniority, Jim couldn’t help but think of a kicked puppy. Jim suddenly realized that Doctor Livingston had never meant to seem patronizing. The man really was just that gentle by nature. Jim wasn’t used to that sort of treatment from anyone. He should have been more appreciative.

I’ve got to say something. “Sir, I understand why you let them question me. I’ve met both Admiral Romano and Captain Weise. They can be... persistent is a good word. It’s fine. You were really good to me while I was recovering. So thank you for that.” He tried for a grateful smile.

Livingston gave a weak smile in return and a nod of thanks, then sat down. That let Jim turn his attention back to Admiral Swerdlow.

The Admiral was looking at his PADD, tapping it thoughtfully with his stylus. “So, Kirk, you’d say you feel that you’re recovering well?”

Diplomacy, Jim. “I’ve recovered quite well, thank you.”

Swerdlow looked up again. “Cadet Kirk... we know that you’re friends with Doctor McCoy, but you are also aware that he’s a staff physician here. Rare for a cadet to get such a posting, of course, but McCoy came to us with full medical license and a brilliant academic background. He’s been an excellent addition to our staff here, both as a functional trauma surgeon and as a researcher.”

Researcher - wait, they’re still investigating Bones for something, right...? “He’s my friend, yes,” Jim said firmly, making sure each word counted, “but even if he weren’t, I know he’s good. I wouldn’t believe there’s a better doctor out there to take care of me or anyone I cared about in a crisis. I know he was working in the ER the day they brought me in. And I know he kept me from bleeding out until more surgeons arrived.”

Jim turned halfway back to look at Bones properly, and gave him a grateful smile. “I know I’ve said thanks, but I mean it. I know you saved my life that day.”

Bones, however, was looking quite cranky, which Jim knew meant he was horribly upset about something. He even seemed to be sweating a bit. He made eye contact, just briefly, and spoke in a rough, dry voice, “Don’t thank me, Jim. Not yet.”

“What? Why?” Jim looked back and forth rapidly between the pale, damp face of his best friend, and the solemn faces of the doctors seated around the room, and reality hit him like a rogue torpedo. This isn’t about me.

“Kirk,” Swerdlow began again, sounding hesitant, “were you aware that the ER was short-staffed that morning?”

Jim could only shake his head, glancing back once more, almost compulsively, to look at Bones again.

“And were you aware that when you arrived, McCoy was the only qualified surgeon on the floor? The lead doctor on duty had been called to assist in another surgery and left the floor, and the other trauma surgeon had left to assist with a minor spinal injury at the Academy infirmary. McCoy and one young resident doctor were the only people available when you first arrived.” He shook his head angrily. “Never, in all my years at Starfleet Medical, have I seen such carelessness. Not on the parts of the people who remained on duty in the emergency room, but those who felt it was acceptable to leave the floor so poorly covered... as if something like this couldn’t possibly happen. Complacency. You deserved better.”

Jim’s mouth was painfully dry, and he really just wanted to sit down. “Maybe so,” he said carefully. “But I’m alive, and I’m fine. I crashed a shuttle onto an airless planet, and by all rights, I should be dead. And if Bo- McCoy managed to keep me alive until backup arrived, then that’s what matters.” He squared his shoulders. “McCoy is an excellent doctor.” He shook his head, desperately lost in all of this. What did his treatment on the day of the crash have to do with the medical malpractice case against Bones?

“We do give him credit for that feat, Kirk,” Admiral Swerdlow said solemnly. “We’ve also placed several reprimands in the records of the doctors who should have been on the floor, but weren’t.”

“So, then what this about?” Jim asked. Were they trying to build up a broader case against Bones for whatever else they were investigating? If so, they weren’t going to get anything from Jim that they could possibly use against his best friend. “Obviously, Doctor McCoy was responsible enough and capable enough to cover an emergency room during a major trauma incident. What could he possibly have done that would cause you to dig into my care that day because of some other thing you’re investigating? Because I’ll tell you right now, he gave me the best possible care. The fact that I’m alive and standing here right now is proof of that.”

There was the scrape of a chair against the floor, and Jim snapped around to see Bones on his feet, walking towards the podium. He came to a stop behind the podium, close enough to reach out and put a hand on Jim’s arm. “Admiral, I apologize for speaking out of turn, but he doesn’t know. I’ve got to be the one to say this to him.”

The Admiral waved him the go-ahead.

Jim turned towards his friend and spoke just under his breath, “Bones, what the hell is -”

“Jim,” he said in a low tone that bore no argument. “Be quiet and listen. I should have explained this sooner. You had enough things to worry about, and I kept telling myself that I’d tell you eventually. Looks like eventually is now.” He sighed heavily. “I told you I was under investigation on a malpractice charge. And you know they suspended my research project.”

“Just rip off the damned bandage.” The suspense was worse.

Bones sucked in a sharp breath, looking at Jim with a thousand apologies. “Your case was the malpractice charge. I used my experimental devices on you.” He blinked a few times, and was suddenly looking everywhere around the room except at Jim. “There weren’t enough surgeons, and you were bleeding too fast, and we couldn’t stabilize it. But the head injury was too bad, and I needed to start treating that, too. I couldn’t do both at once. So I used my neurovascular regen units.”

Jim blinked, trying not to let this revelation shock him, and failing. “You... that was... why didn’t you tell me?”

“You already had too much on your plate. I couldn’t load this onto you, too.”

“You should have told me anyway.”

“I know, Jim. But now... you need to understand what this is all about. I used unapproved, untested, experimental devices on a patient... on you. That’s malpractice. That’s why they launched an investigation.”

Slowly, Jim began to nod, trying to put the facts together despite the fact that his mind was still reeling with the shock of it all. “And that’s why they suspended your research... because it actually did involve your research. You were working on devices to treat head injuries in the field. Because of what happened last year. You told me about it.” A sudden grin crept across his face. “But that means they worked! Right? You used them in a real emergency and they worked! That’s great!”

But Bones wasn’t smiling. He shook his head. “They were still experimental. Not approved for use. Not for any reason.”

“No, that’s stupid,” Jim protested. “You had no other options, and you did what you had to. You took a chance, and it worked.”

Bones shook his head again. “No, Jim. You don’t get it. There’s a strict protocol about experimental treatments in the field of medicine. Hundreds of years ago, doctors experimented on patients without any sort of guidelines or restrictions. Patients were used. Human beings, used as lab rats. We don’t do that anymore, and the restrictions are in place to make sure that never happens again. We can’t violate those restrictions for any reason. But I did.”

“No. No.” Jim almost reached out to grab Bones by the shoulders to shake some sense into him, but held back. Still, he could feel his fingers twitching. “You didn’t... you didn’t experiment on me. You did what you had to do. And you saved my life.” He swallowed tightly. “And you got hung out to dry for doing it.”

Suddenly scowling, Jim stepped back and turned towards the podium. Bones had stuck his neck out to save his life; Jim was more than willing to stick his neck out to save Bones’ career. He leaned over the podium menacingly to face the doctors assembled around the room. “I’m sure that each and every one of you has faced a tough case under difficult conditions. Sometimes, you have to make do with what you’ve got. If those devices, experimental or not, were all McCoy had to work with, and I was going to die on the table, then he made the right call.”

“That’s why his medical license wasn’t suspended,” said a female doctor who’d been silent until now. Olive skin under a tuft of curly gray hair, she looked like a world of poise and ferocity under a grandmotherly demeanor. “But what if the outcome had been different, Kirk? What if the devices hadn’t worked?”

“Then I’d be just as dead as if he hadn’t used them at all, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?” Jim shot back, trying not to flinch at the meaning of his words, and hoping he wasn’t about to cause even more trouble for himself. Still, this was Bones. This was his best friend, and the guy who had saved his life. He couldn’t leave this alone. “He did the right thing,” Jim said with as much firmness as he could manage.

A male doctor with a dark complexion and a round bald head leaned forward on his folded arms. “Cadet Kirk, congratulations on your newly minted medical degree, but until I see the certification, you’ll need to defer to those of us who have been doing this for a few decades. There’s no denying that Doctor McCoy’s efforts and research are worthy of congratulations, but his application of untried and untested devices on a sentient being was absolutely reckless, regardless of the situation. Medicine doesn’t work that way. If we allowed it, unchecked, where does it stop?”

Jim felt himself bristling in defensiveness, grasping for words in the face of such a harsh statement. “I may not have a medical degree, sir, but Doctor McCoy certainly does, so he’s got the skills and experience to know where to stop. I’d hardly call his actions reckless if they saved my life.”

A hand touched his arm, and Jim looked back to see Bones giving him one of those looks. “You don’t need to defend me. This isn’t your fight.”

“I don’t need to, but I’m going to,” Jim replied in an undertone, for Bones’ ears only. “You already fought. You fought the day of the crash. And you won. Let me do this.”

“I made my decision, and I need to live with the consequences,” Bones growled back, just above a whisper.

Jim gritted his teeth. “I am living with the consequences, Bones, and I kinda like it over the alternative.” He turned back to the other doctors, raising his voice again for the room to hear. “He still made the right call.”

For a moment, there was silence in the room. Varying expressions hung from the faces of the assembled doctors - everything from sympathy and agreement to outright scorn. Jim looked around the room, making sure he met everyone’s gaze for at least a moment. He was severely outranked, but it was his case in question. He was the patient whose treatment they were debating. If he was still alive, and thought that his care had been good enough, then that had to count for something. He was notoriously good at public speaking and debate. He could do this.

“Didn’t any of you serve on starships? Long assignments, facing the unknown? New diseases that nobody has seen before? Medical emergencies under bad circumstances without the equipment you need?” A thick silence answered him, but the guilty affirmations were visible on several doctors’ faces. Jim nodded. “And sometimes, you’ve got to use what you have on hand, scrap things together, and think on your feet, right?”

A few heads nodded, some reluctantly.

Jim was starting to feel a foothold on this line of reasoning. “What more could you want from a Starfleet doctor than thinking outside the box, doing what needs to be done, and keeping his patients alive? That’s the kind of doctor I’d want on any starship I’d serve on.”

There was a murmur of consent amongst the assembled doctors - not unanimous, but growing - and Jim was starting to taste the first nibbles of victory when Swerdlow spoke again.

“We also have concerns that McCoy’s decision-making process was influenced by the fact that it was a close friend on the operating table.” His voice was firm, but not harsh.

“If that means he did everything he possibly could to keep me alive,” Jim said determinedly, “then I can’t see any reason to object. Don’t starship doctors get to know the crew? Make friends? Sometimes have to treat them?” He was not losing this debate!

“We caution our students at Starfleet Medical Academy against letting personal feelings influence their medical professionalism when working on starships,” said that female doctor.

“Well, I guess if I ever make Captain - presuming good doctors like McCoy keep me alive until then - I’ll have to work a bit harder to find a CMO who works as part of the crew, not separate from it.” Jim carefully, treading the line between good rhetoric and his own personal irritation. “But I’m sure one or two good Starfleet doctors will slip through the cracks. Besides, in terms of McCoy’s actual actions, while he was still working on me, did he actually do anything that indicated that his personal feelings caused him to violate his ‘medical professionalism’? Or make any decisions differently because we’re friends?”

The doctor looked like she’d just bitten into a lemon. “No,” she admitted, somewhat tersely.

Jim nodded slowly, looking from her to all the other senior medical staff in the room. “Then don’t punish him for saving a man’s life.”

There was silence around the room for a moment, then Admiral Swerdlow stood. “We’ll need a few moments to deliberate. Cadet Kirk, thank you for your time. You are dismissed. Doctor McCoy, please wait across the hall in room 1008. We’ll give you our decision shortly.”

Bones nodded, looking somewhat numb, and turned to walk out the door. Jim followed him, casting one last scathing glance back over his shoulder at the assembly before the door slid shut behind him. He turned his head back just in time to see Bones walk into the room across the hall, collapse into one of the small couches, and bury his face in his hands.

Jim hurried over and sat down gently next to him. From there, he could feel that Bones was actually shaking slightly. “Bones?”

“You didn’t need to argue for me.”

“Yeah, I did. You got in trouble for saving my life. How was I supposed to walk away from that?”

Bones didn’t respond to the question. “You don’t need to stay, Jim.” He didn’t look up.

With a sigh, Jim rested a hand on Bones’ shoulder. “Yeah, I do.” He frowned. “Bones... come on, look at me.”

Bones shook his head into his hands. It was fair that he wanted to retreat into himself - the guy had a lot riding on this, and was probably quite overwhelmed. But still...

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said roughly. “I used you.”

“Stop that, Bones! You didn’t use me! Have they been convincing you of that shit? Fuck, you’ve been in the hot seat for weeks now over this, all because you did everything you could to save my sorry ass, and I just want to know why you didn’t tell me.”

Bones finally looked up, his eyes desperate and his mouth tight. “I already said... how could I tell you, Jim? You’ve been busy and overwhelmed and you didn’t need anything else to deal with. I’ve been trying to keep you out of this. By every possible medical standard, I experimented on you.” He looked down again, leaning heavily on his knees.

“Yeah, maybe,” Jim said cautiously, “But only because you had no other choice. And your experiment worked, and it saved my life.” He nudged Bones’ shoulder with his own. “Bones, I’ve told you that I want you to be my CMO someday when I’ve got my own ship. What I haven’t told you is that it’s not just because we’re friends. It’s because I know what you’re like. You’re kind of guy who will throw the rulebook out the nearest airlock if that’s what it takes to save someone, and that’s what I want in a CMO. Because things go wrong out in the black. Sometimes really wrong. When one of the people under my command... or me... is injured, and you don’t have all the supplies you need, or you’re stuck on a planet without modern equipment, or whatever... I want the guy who’s gonna do whatever it takes. And I know you’re that guy.”

But Bones only snorted, shaking his head to himself. “After all this, the last place I want to go is into space.” He cast a sideways glance at Jim. “And judging by your reaction to the flight simulator the other day, it looks like you’re not quite as gung-ho as you used to be.”

Jim felt a jolt of nerves shoot up his spine, but he shook it off. “I’ll get over it. It’s temporary. Like the admiral said - the healing process and all, right? So when I go up into space, would you want me going up there without you?”

Bones sat up and gave an appraising look which slowly morphed into chagrined resignation. “Someone’s gotta look after your hide.”

“Exactly.” He reached out and squeezed Bones’ forearm. “I’m not angry. I’m grateful. Screw those doctors. They know you did the right thing. Let it go.”

“You don’t feel like I violated your rights, as a patient?”

It was all Jim could do not to laugh. “Where’d you get a line like that? Out of a ‘code of doctory things’ manual? No, Bones. I told you, I trust you. Besides, if we want to talk about violations, what about that nurse who cut my clothes off? What was his name? Gustavo?”

Bones’ face twisted into a look of pained amusement, something just on the edge of either crying or laughing. “Oh, goddammit, Jim.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Doctor McCoy.”

Jim hadn’t even noticed Admiral Swerdlow enter the room, and was on his feet only a heartbeat after Bones.

“Admiral,” Bones acknowledged sharply, with obvious nervousness pinching his voice like an over-tightened guitar string.

“At ease, McCoy. Relax.” He turned a curious eye to Jim. “I shouldn’t be surprised that you waited here.”

“I don’t leave friends hanging, sir. Especially ones who have saved my life.”

Swerdlow smiled gently. “Your loyalty is well-placed, Cadet Kirk.” He turned back to McCoy, suddenly formal again. “Your record is clean, Doctor. Cleared of all charges.”

With an instantaneous shift in demeanor, Bones let out a heavy breath and closed his eyes for a moment before swallowing and nodding. He looked more exhausted now than five minutes ago, but so relieved.

The Admiral continued. “The council decided that you did indeed act in good faith, using the resources available to you when you had no other options. You shouldn’t have had to make that decision at all.” His mild expression suddenly became darker. “We will be reviewing the policies regarding the staffing of the ER here. It’s been a couple of years since any sort of major accident on campus, and people have become complacent. That needs to change. The fact that you held it together with no real backup... McCoy, I couldn’t have done better myself. You’re going to make a damned fine ship’s doctor someday.”

Jim grinned and elbowed Bones lightly. Bones merely nodded and gave a watery, “Thank you, sir.”

“And now that the investigation is over, I can tell you directly - we reviewed the biobed sensor logs from the trauma room. There’s absolutely no doubt that if you hadn’t used your devices, Kirk wouldn’t have made it.”

The sense of encouragement Jim had felt for Bones a moment ago was suddenly pushed aside. He already knew that it had been close. Touch and go. Almost hadn’t made it. But knowing now that if it had been any other doctor alone on the ER floor that day... or if Bones hadn’t been working on those gadgets of his... that was too damned close for comfort. “Shit.”

Swerdlow looked at him knowingly. “An accurate assessment, Kirk.”

“So...” Bones cut in hesitantly. “If my record is clean, where do I stand?”

“You can resume shifts here at Starfleet Medical as soon as Doctor Xu returns to the Academy Infirmary from her family leave. We weren’t actually punishing you with that, McCoy. We were just trying to give you a break from Starfleet Medical. You needed it.”

“Yeah.” Then Bones frowned. “But what about my research? When can I start that again?”

Swerdlow suddenly looked apologetic. “That’s the bad news, I’m afraid to say.”

“You’re not going to stop the project!” Jim blurted out. “You can’t. The devices work. The fact that I’m here proves it.”

“He’s right, sir,” Bones chimed in. “This will revolutionize field medicine and first response treatment for head trauma. And now that we know that it works -”

“Now that we know it works, the research will be taken over by an advanced team from Neurology.” He tipped his head in apology. “I know it’s your baby, McCoy, but... you’re too close to the project. After this... if you were to continue working on it, there would be too many questions. Appearances and all.”

“Politics, you mean,” Bones growled.

The Admiral pressed his lips together and gave one sharp nod. “Essentially. You’ll still be listed as the primary designer for these devices. And you will still be able to co-author the research paper.”

“But sir... part of my academic program is that I need to complete a research project while I’m here. It’s part of...” He paused and cast a sideways look at Jim, then sighed. “It’s a requirement for those of us who want to get a posting on a starship immediately out of the Academy.”

Despite the frustration and sympathetic anger Jim was feeling on Bones’ behalf, a spark of something brighter pulled a grin across his face. “Bones?”

“We’ll talk about it later, kid,” he shot sideways. “So... sir... if I can’t run my own research project to completion, what am I supposed to do?”

Swerdlow could only shrug helplessly. “I wish I could tell you, McCoy. That’s up to you. But for now, congratulations. You’re still a staff member here at Starfleet Medical, and we’re proud to have you. And your friend is right - any starship would be lucky to have you on their medical staff.” He held out his hand, and Bones shook it automatically.

“Thank you, sir.”

“And... if I may say,” he said in a different tone, “Congratulations on creating your neurovascular regenerators. They’re quite brilliant. I can only wish that I’d thought of it myself. And if it had been up to me alone, I would have let you keep your project. I might have even asked if I could join your team.” With a cordial nod, he turned and walked away down the corridor.

For a moment, Bones stood there, not moving, just watching the Admiral’s retreating form. When the sound of footsteps had disappeared down the corridor, Bones finally let out a slow breath, looked at Jim sideways, and said, “That’s one hell of a compliment coming from him.”

“Oh?”

“He’s the guy who invented tri-ox compound. A bit of a legend in cellular metabolism research.”

“Uh… right.”

“Let’s just say it’s a big deal.” Bones shook his head in resignation. “He wasn’t here during the first investigation hearing I got called to. But if he likes my research, with the amount of pull he has... he probably helped me dodge a bit of phaser fire here.”

“Then I’m glad. But… Bones?” Jim didn’t even try to stop the grin from taking over his face. “A starship posting?”

Bones sighed, rolled his eyes, and finally nodded. “I’d been keeping it a secret, you know - that I’m trying for a starship posting. I was going to tell you when I passed my basic flight test. I thought we’d celebrate.”

“We can celebrate anyway,” Jim said, looking at him with a bit of awe, almost as if seeing him for the first time. Or maybe just for the first time in a while. Knowing what he’d gone through, what he’d been keeping to himself, and the burden it must have been… it was a sobering thought for Jim. “Bones... if it hadn’t been you... if it had been any other doctor in the ER that day... I would have -”

“You didn’t, Jim. Please, kid...” He ran a hand roughly over his face. “Believe me, I’ve run the scenario over in my head so many times in the past few weeks. Had more than a few nightmares about it.”

“Well... thank you anyway.”

“You’re more than welcome. Just promise me you’ll try to avoid putting me through that sort of hell when I become your CMO.”

“I’ll try.” Jim couldn’t stop the bright grin that had cracked through earlier from returning. “You’ll really do it?”

“I’ll try.”

Jim laughed and clapped him lightly on the arm. “That’s all I can ask.” Then he took a step around to face Bones straight on. “But Bones... you said that you don’t want me going up into the black without you. That goes both ways. Don’t go up without me, okay?”

Bones frowned, then raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Jim looked over his friend’s face, and in that moment, reaffirmed his own promise to himself that he would get his assistant flight instructor qualification as soon as he could. And then, he’d copilot with Bones for his test. He wouldn’t leave his friend alone to face something that scared him so much. Not a friend who had pulled him back from the brink of death. And if that meant he had to get over his own stupid qualms and get right back into the swing of things, then he would. “Just... don’t, okay?”

Slowly, Bones nodded. “Okay, Jim. Okay.” He took a slow breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “How bad is it that I want to skip my lab and clinic rotation today and start getting drunk before noon on a Thursday?”

“I’d say reasonable, given the circumstances. Besides, it’s 1700 somewhere on every class-M planet that has a rotation of at least seventeen hours.”

“That’s a fair point, I guess.”

“And you know... when I’ve got my own starship, I can have the chrono permanently set to 1700.”

Bones raised an eyebrow. “Jim.”

“We should have an open bar in one of the rec rooms.”

“Jim.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

*********

(To Part Fourteen...)