Title: The First Officer
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: The Enterprise gains a new crewmember without realizing it.

The general reaction seems to be confusion after reading this, and so I apologize. It’s easy to forget the readers cannot interpret my vision unless I’m clear in what I write. Once again, I apologize! This is my mistake.

The answer became simple: he would find a way to live the life that is rightfully his. Suffice to say, how he achieves this is vague at best, but he becomes the First Officer. Hence the unease of Kirk and McCoy in the beginning. Yet we see by the end it doesn’t matter how Spock came to be there. He is truly where he is meant to be.

With an unreadable expression, a figure stands by the wall apart from the traffic of the ship’s corridor. Opposite him is a door which closed only moments prior after admitting an individual easily recognizable as the starship’s First Officer to the room beyond. One would expect the First Officer should have felt the intensity of the gaze upon his back as he stood just outside that door awaiting permission to enter but the truth is he did not.

He could not have, for the man in the standard-issue uniform keeping watch is not physically there. He is but a shade of a should-have-been; he is a reminder that despite the infinite possibilities of the universe, some things never come true.

This is where our story begins, with the man who should have been. He has no name. His likes and dislikes, his talents and faults are unknown. Even the color of his eyes is shadowed. We only know that he watches this particular door, the entrance to the private quarters of the captain, and when people pass by the place he stands, they feel deeply troubled. Those who tested with psy-ability, if only a sense of perception, will sometimes shudder.

But they always move along. They forget. What the ghost-man is they are not meant to remember. There is nothing significant about a person who does not exist.

Yet though we do not know him, this doesn’t mean this man does not know himself… or that he has every intention of remaining unseen.

“Jim!”

James Kirk stops at the door to the transporter room and turns at the sound of his name. He gives a long look to the man approaching him, the doctor who so easily makes use of his first name. “Dr. McCoy—Bones,” he corrects, perhaps feeling justified in the nickname, “what is it?”

The man pulls up short at Jim’s even tone, his blue eyes sharp with both concern and wariness. “Something the matter, Jim?”

Jim glances quickly around the room but his gaze does not land on any one man—until he focuses again upon McCoy. “No.” His reiteration of “What is it?” is almost idle.

“I—” the doctor begins, only to trail off. His shoulders draw in unconsciously. “Nothing, Captain. It can wait.”

Jim gives a not-unkind nod of understanding and makes a swift exit from the room.

Tension is still visibly riding McCoy. The man nearly jumps when a voice says at his shoulder, “Doctor.”

“Mr. Spock,” the CMO returns in greeting. “That was… some mission.”

The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. For a few seconds, McCoy seems oddly enchanted by Spock’s expression until Spock questions, almost drolly, “Do you intend to clarify that statement, Dr. McCoy?”

“No,” McCoy answers, mouth falling into a frown. “I gotta—I’ll be in Sickbay. See you around, Spock.”

Then he leaves as quickly as the captain had.

“It’s damned odd,” Leonard mutters at his computer screen. “Christine!”

Nurse Christine Chapel, currently in conversation with another member of the medical staff, gains a faintly amused look on her face. After apologizing for the interruption to her companion, she turns in the direction of the head of the department. “Yes, Doctor?”

“I just realized our medical database is sorely lacking in information about Mr. Spock’s species. Being so badly equipped, how in tarnation did this ship get cleared to leave the docking bay at Earth if we’ve got a Vulcan First Officer!”

“I don’t know, sir.”

He twists in his chair to look at the nurse. “Well, I might be newer than most around here but I’ve never seen somethin’ so ridiculous.”

“I can draft a list of specialized xenobiologists in the ‘Fleet,” Christine offers.

He hmphs but seems mollified. “Good luck with that. I’ve been meddling in xenobiology for a decade. A degree isn’t worth beans without experience.”

“Then we’ll find someone who has had clinical practice with Vulcans.”

“We’d better,” he mutters darkly, returning to glare at his computer. “There’s something frightening about this ship.”

“Doctor?” Chapel questions, not understanding him.

“Never mind,” the man tells her. “It’s just a feeling. Let’s see how fast we can get a specialist on board if we push a few buttons.”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse replies and resumes her duties.

Leonard pulls up a new screen and begins to write his request to the captain.

Days later, upon entering the captain’s quarters, Leonard stops short and stares.

“Bones,” Kirk says genially, waving a hand at a vacant chair, “have a seat.”

But McCoy is too busy watching the other officer already seated at the table.

Mr. Spock returns his stare evenly. “Good evening, Doctor.”

It would be rude to ask what Spock is doing there, particularly when the Vulcan is so polite. Leonard joins the two men, settling somewhat gingerly into his chair.

“Mr. Spock offered to play a game of chess with me,” Jim tells McCoy.

Leonard doesn’t see a chessboard on the table. “Oh,” he responds. To Spock, “Do you like the game, Commander?”

“When I can find a suitable opponent.”

Kirk grins as though he has already been labeled ‘suitable’ by Spock without a victory in chess under his belt. McCoy doesn’t know what bothers him about that, so he dismisses his unease. Slumping a little in his seat, Leonard remarks, “If I’m interruptin’, y’all can just boot me out again. I won’t be offended.”

Spock looks from Jim to Leonard. “If there is a matter which requires the Captain’s attention, then I am the interruption, Doctor. I will take my leave.” He stands, his hands falling naturally into a clasped hold behind his back.

“Spock…” Jim begins, standing as well.

“Captain,” Spock says, and Leonard has the impression the Vulcan is smiling though his mouth is not, “I will schedule a match during a time which suits both our schedules.”

Kirk’s shoulders relax. “All right.” Once Spock has left, the captain wanders over towards one of the three bookshelves lining a wall. “Drink, Bones?”

“No, thanks. Maybe another time,” Leonard replies, trying to catch a hold of some elusive feeling.

“What’s on your mind?” Choosing a long-necked blue decanter, Kirk then places an empty glass on the counter and uncorks the bottle.

“It’s about Spock, actually.” Leonard pauses for a breath. “How long has he been on the Enterprise?”

Jim’s hand falters momentarily as he pours his drink but he recovers swiftly enough to say, “It’s in his records.”

“I know that.” Leonard allows for a pause. “But sometimes,” he continues slowly, “seeing and believing are two different things.”

Jim turns, an arrested look in his eyes. “What are you saying, Bones?”

“I’m not really sure myself, Jim. It’s just… I can’t shake this strange feeling I have.”

Kirk rotates the glass in his hand as he considers something. “A feeling that something has changed.”

Leonard sits up. He tries not to sound too hopeful as he exclaims, “Yes!” but it’s nice to know if he has lost his mind, he isn’t the only one on the ship who has. “You came back…” he starts, only to stop and tug at his bottom lip. “You beamed down with the First Officer for the delegation talk, and then you came back with Spock.”

Jim gives him an indecipherable look. “Spock is the First Officer, Bones. He was promoted after—” Jim’s mouth thins with a strong emotion as he inhales. “—Delta Vega,” he finishes.

“Delta Vega,” Leonard murmurs. It may be that report is the reason he frets about this ship. What are the odds of such a terrible thing occurring? Does the Enterprise have bad luck?

“You weren’t on board yet.” Jim lifts the drink to his mouth but grimaces as if he has lost a taste for it. He sets the glass aside untouched then folds his arms and gives Leonard his full attention.

Leonard agrees absently that he wasn’t around then, but he has been on board this tin can for a couple of months now and that’s reason enough to wonder at the strangeness going on. If only he could pinpoint what the real issue is! It frustrates him that he cannot. At length, as Jim wordlessly drops a comforting hand to his shoulder, Leonard gives up and pushes out of his chair.

“Well, enough of this,” he says to no one in particular. “I’ve got more important things to do than chasing stray worries. My apologies, Jim. I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed a while.”

Even if Jim hadn’t spoken so quietly, Leonard would have interpreted the plea in his friend’s eyes. And he understands, he does. “I guess Sickbay won’t fall apart without me for another hour. So what else do you have besides that foul brandy?”

With gratefulness in his eyes, Jim turns toward his makeshift liquor cabinet. “What’s so foul about brandy, Bones? It’s Saurian.”

“Exactly,” McCoy retorts. “We ought not to trust a race as shifty-eyed as the Saurians!”

“They’re reptilian. I think the shifty eyes is a trait they can’t help.”

“Ha,” Leonard grumps. “Thank god we haven’t met any more like ’em, that’s all I’ve got to say. Anybody who produces a drink that potent is bound to be trouble.”

Jim laughs, probably because Saurians are ironically sedate in manner. On the other hand, Leonard believes not all lizard-like races have the same temperament. Where there is peace, an antipathy always seems to exist, as if the universe likes to balance itself out, ying and yang. He bets he would be proven right if they ever encounter another people similar in appearance to the Saurians.

Then again, that might not be the best possible thing to want to happen.

Leonard lets Jim’s humor soothe any lingering tension between them. Then he reaches for a red decanter which he knows is a distilled version of whatever hooch Scotty concocts in the depths of the ship and sets about making himself at home. Towards the end of the hour, the light conversation between Jim and Leonard has carried their minds far away from any reservations about the ship’s First Officer.

A year later, Leonard has come to the conclusion that he can actually appreciate Mr. Spock—under certain circumstances, of course. Otherwise, the iron-willed Vulcan is the most annoying being to have ever graced the Enterprise. Seriously, how can a person be so block-headed and irritating one minute only to make perfect sense the next?

Also, Spock is a great co-conspirator against Captain Kirk. Leonard supposes that is one of the main reasons he ignores (mostly) some of Spock’s more prominent faults, like that cold-blooded logic.

All-in-all, they haven’t murdered each other yet, and Jim seems to be afraid of them both when they put their heads together to solve a problem that directly involves the captain and not his ship as a whole. Which makes Leonard rather proud on occasion because he feels he ought to be feared. With the kind of authority he has, he is a scary man, no matter what the medical staff claims. There’s nothing cuddly (or endearing!) about Leonard; it’s all pricklies. He snickers to himself at this thought, because nothing is more prickly than a Vulcan who can’t explain his own logic.

Leonard leans across his desk, ignoring the messages that need answering in his inbox, to bother Spock on this very subject. “So tell me again why a man so in control of himself needs a tribble?”

Spock’s eyebrows do that wiggly thing which means he is trying very hard to block out the sound of McCoy’s voice.

Leonard thumps his stylus against the desktop. “Well, I can’t approve this darned thing as a pet unless you give me a good reason!” Resting on a stack of padds, a ball of bright pink fur purrs. Unable to resist the lure of its cooing, Leonard lifts a hand to stroke it.

Spock immediately removes the tribble from McCoy’s reach. “It is not a pet, Dr. McCoy.”

The tribble purrs louder as evidence to the contrary.

“So you’re going to study it?”

In Leonard’s opinion, Spock’s short silence still counts as hesitation despite the Vulcan’s remark of “Understanding the biology of tribbles would be a worthy endeavor of the Enterprise’s Science labs. Tribble reproductive systems are unique.”

“Unique enough to give the Captain a conniption fit if he sees you’ve picked up one.” Jim has no love for tribbles, nor for the thought of them taking over his ship again.

“I…” Spock looks consternated and disappointed all at once.

Leonard takes pity on him. “Fine, fine.” He puts his signature on a form with flourish. “But know this, Mr. Spock… you owe me.”

Spock is completely composed again. Happy tribble tucked in the crook of his arm, he takes the form from McCoy. “Thank you, Doctor.”

After Spock has left the office, Leonard purses his mouth and considers what he could ask of the Vulcan as repayment for the debt (and the trouble McCoy is likely to get into when Jim finds out about the approval of the request). The possibilities make him grin and keeping him grinning for days. Spock does his best to ignore that grinning, too.

In McCoy’s experience, trouble gives no warning before it strikes. The Enterprise is commissioned with the transport of a politically important (and protected) soothsayer to her home colony. The instant she exits her shuttlecraft and takes Kirk’s hand in greeting, the pale, wraith-like woman closes her eyes and announces, “You have a ghost aboard this ship.”

“Oh lord,” Leonard mutters under his breath, pulling at the tight collar of his dress uniform. As if they don’t have enough day-to-day drama. He’s very close to cracking a joke (a ghost? what nonsense!) when he notices the posture of the Vulcan next to him is frightfully still. So instead Leonard nudges Spock with his elbow gently, saying, “Loosen up, or you’ll scare the poor woman straight back to the starbase.”

Spock spares him a perturbed glare before Kirk is standing in front of them both, introducing the soothsayer.

Leonard gives his best diplomatic hello, which happens to include a heap full of Southern charm. “Ma’am,” he drawls, bending over their clasped hands in a gentlemanly bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She doesn’t let go of his hand right away. “Doctor McCoy, I am also pleased to meet you… though perhaps you may come to think otherwise. Yes, I see that you might.”

Well, if that’s not ominous, Leonard is an electrical engineer instead of a doctor.

Kirk intervenes and steers the lady away, undoubtedly no more impressed with (or easy about) her mysterious hints than Leonard is. Leonard thinks she glances back at him, only to realize later it was Spock her eyes had settled on.

But the business of the ship goes on, and he dismisses all thoughts of her when they aren’t in the same room or attending a formal dinner together. It surprises him somewhat when, three days before her departure, he encounters the woman in the corridor outside of Kirk’s quarters.

At first, Leonard thinks she is waiting to go inside.

“Oh, no,” the woman assures him, tilting her head so he can see the intricate knots within her coiffed hair. “I am merely observing.”

Leonard looks at the door she had been staring at with a distant expression on her face. “Would you like me to get the Captain for you?” Maybe she feels it’s taboo to enter a male’s quarters alone. He didn’t exactly brush up on the customs of her people as he should have.

“He stood here. He was alone. And he saw what he could not be a part of—that hurt him most of all,” the soothsayer tells Leonard.

“He? Who is that, ma’am?”

She turns to study Leonard’s expression. “Why, the ghost, of course.”

“…Right.” He coughs politely. “I’m not much of a believer in specters, personally.”

“You should be. He likes you very much.”

Leonard rocks back on his heels, not certain if he is more disturbed by the words, the change of tense, or the conviction with which she speaks. “Excuse me?”

“Your friend, the Vulcan. He likes your company.”

This poor woman needs an examination. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but last time I checked,” and recently too, he doesn’t add, “the First Officer was very healthy and very alive.”

“Yes,” she agrees, finally stepping away from the wall. “Yes, he is. Perhaps I will ask him about that sometime.”

Leonard is left wondering exactly how fine the line is between supernaturally perceptive and insane.

“Want to hear something funny, Spock?”

“I am certain you will enlighten me whether I wish it so or not, Doctor.”

Leonard lifts his cup of coffee to hide a smile. “That fortuner-teller thinks you’re a ghost.”

Spock stacks a red food cube on top of a green cube. “I see.”

“Don’t you think that’s funny?”

Without looking up, the Vulcan lifts an eyebrow. An orange cube is shuffled next to the red-green cube tower. Spock continues his task of rearranging his food wordlessly.

Leonard plunks his mug onto the cafeteria table in a flash of agitation. “Well, damn it, you green-blooded hobgoblin! You could at least pretend to take the bait.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Kirk climbs into a seat next to Spock.

“Dr. McCoy is bored,” the Vulcan replies at the same time Leonard complains, “He’s as cold-hearted as ever! I thought we’d fixed that by now, Jim.”

“Alas,” Jim says, trying hard not to grin, “Man’s nature cannot be changed on a whim.”

“He’s not human,” Leonard mutters under his breath.

“Why, thank you, Dr. McCoy,” Spock replies in that grave, dry tone Leonard recognizes well.

Leonard glares. Of course Spock would only acknowledge a joke if it’s at his expense. Why in the world did he ever become friends with the likes of this one?

Then he realizes Jim is snickering behind a large piece of chocolate cake and decides he made two bad choices for friends, not just one. Salvaging what dignity he can, Leonard gets up from the table and makes a pointed threat about mutiny. Off to the side, with perfect timing, an ensign trips and clatters his tray onto a table. As a distracted Jim looks round at the disturbance, Leonard steals the plate of cake and scuttles away.

Since those two are so chummy, let Spock share his food cubes with the Captain. That’ll teach ’em both!

He fiddles with the replicator diet cards from a personal padd on the way back to his office so there will be no more sweets to be had for several days (not for Kirk or Spock, since Jim thinks he is sneaky sometimes by ordering meals through Spock’s unrestricted access) and celebrates his revenge in his office with a perfectly made mint julep.

To the side of the procession, Spock is listening intently to the star of the hour—the soothsayer. For several minutes now, she has had the Vulcan’s attention. Jim has paced up and down the line of officers twice, antsy to have the woman off his ship, diplomatic convoy or not. He had told Leonard the day previous in an undertone at the end of a senior officers’ meeting, “Maybe she can see the future, Bones, or some version of it. I don’t know. I do know, however, the longer that kind of power is on my ship, the less I like it.”

It’s an understandable sentiment from where McCoy is standing. Even he feels bothered by the way Spock’s ear is bent in her direction. He excuses himself from his position in line next to Scotty, resisting the urge to scratch just beneath his collar (stupid dress uniforms!), and meanders toward the corner occupied by the two people holding up the final ceremony to send the woman planet-side.

“Have you considered telling them?” a feminine voice can be heard.

“Negative.”

Spock’s back is to Leonard but the woman looks directly over the Vulcan’s shoulder at McCoy as she replies, “I believe your friend would understand.”

“No one can understand.” And that seems to be the end of the conversation for Spock.

Leonard is quick to look occupied when the First Officer steps back and turns around. He jerks at his collar.

“Doctor,” and is that a new note in Spock’s tone of voice? Leonard doesn’t know what to make of it. “Is something troubling you?” Spock asks.

“Just this infernal thing.” He lets his hands drop laxly to his sides with a sheepish look. “So y’all ready to get this show on the road?”

“That is a euphemism—” begins the Vulcan’s explanation to the soothsayer.

“To remind us not to waste time.” She smiles at Leonard. “I have my answers. I am ready now. Thank you for asking, Dr. McCoy.”

The encounter leaves Leonard confused.

“Spock,” Leonard wants to know later, “what kind of secret would you keep from a friend?” The question is not as idle as it seems. He figures Spock knows that.

“There is no joy in secrets.” Spock’s head turns slowly as he tracks Kirk’s path across the Bridge toward a security console.

Leonard props an elbow on the lowest rung of railing and cranes his neck to look up at Spock from his vantage point on the level just below the Science station. “Spock,” he prompts again, aware that he already lost the Vulcan’s attention.

“Yes, Doctor?” The Vulcan’s voice has a faint echo to it.

“About secrets…”

That unfathomable gaze drops to Leonard’s. Out-of-the-blue, the doctor is struck by the heavy sensation that Spock is sad. Alone, like the soothsayer said. And sad. He swallows any thought of prying.

But Spock is still waiting for him to speak.

“Never mind,” Leonard says decisively. “I know about secrets—and god help the person who has to carry one.”

“Secrets are not always burdens.”

“If it can’t be told, then it’s a burden, Spock.”

Spock says nothing to that. Leonard would reach out and pat his friend’s arm if Spock was in range and wasn’t picky about how and when he was touched. So McCoy keeps his hands tucked close to his body, unobtrusive and unthreatening, and gives Spock a small, sympathetic smile. “I think I want to call in that favor now.”

“What is it that you would ask of me?”

He shifts to look at Jim, who has an acutely developed sense of when he is being watched (that is, to Leonard, a heightened sense of paranoia), and gives them a quick wink before returning to his conversation with Chekov.

It’s a simple favor, really. “Don’t forget. When you start thinking your secrets are too terrible to share, don’t forget we know the real you, even if you’ve forgotten him.”

“What if you have never seen my true nature?”

Leonard catches Spock’s gaze. “Have I imagined all of the things you’ve done on this ship in three years’ time?”

“Negative.”

“Then I think I know you pretty well, Spock, and what I know, I like.”

A hint of the familiar, and a lightness, returns to Spock’s voice. “…I suppose I must consider your approval of my character to be a compliment.”

“Most people would.”

“Hm,” Spock says, and nothing more.

Which is plenty descriptive to Leonard. He pushes away from the railing to level an accusatory finger at the Vulcan. “Why you… Here I am, going out of my way to be nice—”

“Bones.”

A hand falls onto his shoulder. “Jim,” Leonard says hotly, “I’ve just been insulted!”

Kirk’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “So, basically, Spock thanked you. What for?” Jim looks curiously from Leonard to Spock. The Vulcan has put his back to them.

Leonard folds his arms.

“Spock? Bones?”

The doctor hmphs. “Well then. You’re welcome!” His voice is pitched to carry. Spock doesn’t twitch, the bastard.

Leonard pushes past Jim with a grumble and heads for the turbolift, reserving a smile for when he is alone.

-Fini

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