Drink One For Me (4/6)

Date:

3

Title: Drink One For Me (4/6)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: In the past, Leonard has been more than willing to attend a Spring Fling or two as his captain’s wing man. But when Spock starts tagging along, Leonard realizes he may have been assuming some things he shouldn’t have.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
Or read at AO3


Part Three

The Enterprise’s CMO sinks down into his chair at the same time that the Chief Engineer’s mouth drops open.

Capt’n,” Mr. Scott says, aghast.

Kirk’s hands flex on his armrests.

Leonard takes pity on Jim. “Scotty, Spock took the choice out of our hands.”

But the other man begins to shake his head. “It’s not Mr. Spock’s decision that shocks me, Doctor. I’d even go so far as to say him I understand.”

Their captain’s eyebrows come down. “Mr. Scott…”

Unfazed by the warning, the engineer pins his superior with an incredulous stare. “Sir, with all due respect, what were you thinking?

Leonard straightens up again, his interest piqued.

Jim’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “If your concern is for the mission…”

“Aye!” cries Scotty, throwing his hands up. “Spying, Capt’n—and on the Romulans no less! I thought we had our fill of that nonsense last year!”

“My point exactly,” Leonard agrees.

“Bones,” his friend mutters.

Riled now, Mr. Scott clearly isn’t finished. “If Command had half a brain between them… Sorry, sir, but the way I see it exploration and espionage aren’t interchangeable, not even for the flagship. I think if any of us wanted that, we would have picked a career in Special Ops. “

Kirk’s expression softens somewhat. “I won’t disagree with you, Mr. Scott, but think of it this way: our five-year mission is to explore, yes, and to seek new life—but we must protect those lives in addition to our own. As captain, it is my duty to determine if the outcome is worth the risk involved. Therefore I can’t simply dismiss an intelligence operation when I know the greater good will be served by it.” He pauses. “By that same token, I would never ask you or any other officer on this ship to stand against your own principles.”

“Aye, I know that, sir. It’s why I’m still willing to serve under you.”

“Thank you, Scotty.”

“Can I interject here?”

Jim turns an amused look upon the doctor. “I didn’t expect otherwise, Bones.”

Leonard harrumphs. “First, stop channeling Spock. It’s making me uncomfortable. And, second, although I don’t like clandestine missions either, to Scotty’s point, I trust your judgment. But it needs to be pointed out, Captain, that a well-informed crew is a happy crew. At the very least, your senior officers should be in a position to advise you. When we’re left in the dark, you hamstring yourself as much as us.”

“And if the mission is above your security clearance?”

Leonard’s eyes sparkle. “I seem to recall a little thing like that hasn’t stopped you before, Jim.”

His friend finally smiles. “Too true. Some days I wonder if I shouldn’t reconsider my position on medical officers visiting the bridge.”

Leonard’s look plainly reads you wouldn’t dare.

Jim sighs through his nose, conceding, “I admit, this team works better without secrets.”

“Damn right!” McCoy and Scott say together.

Jim lifts a hand and rubs a temple. “Are you two finished with the lecture?”

“That depends on how well it takes,” is the doctor’s prim reply.

“We’ll see, Bones.”

“Yes, we shall.”

They trade smiles, a habit born from years of friendship.

“What’re we planning to do about the Romulans?” Scotty wants to know. “And will we have to fight that governor to get Mr. Spock back?”

The pleasantness in Kirk’s face dims as the grim reality of their predicament casts a pall over the conference room.

Leonard thinks of Spock as he had last seen him: calm, stalwart in the face of the unknown. The urge to return to the Aurelis Moon is a strong one. He doesn’t think he would even be slowed down by a transporter.

An idea strikes him in that instant which makes him bolt upright in his chair.

The captain eyes him with sharp speculation.

“They have control of the landing pad, right?” Leonard guesses.

“We could beam someone down without clearance,” answers the ship’s engineer, “but we’d run the risk of an interruption to our signal. That pad was heavily guarded the last time I had Chekov scan the area.”

Leonard shudders internally at the thought of someone ‘interrupting the signal’ that just happens to be his atoms transporting through space.

Jim questions, “What about the mansion itself? How could we get inside without anyone noticing?”

“You mean like how you got out? Not a chance, Capt’n. There’s a deflector shield over the building. It went up as soon as I pulled you and Dr. McCoy to the ship.”

“The Governor knows what she’s about,” Leonard mutters, torn between irritation and admiration.

“She would, Bones. Aurelis’ governing body and militia go hand-in-hand. The Governor leads both.”

Leonard studies his captain. “You find her formidable, don’t you?”

“Do you know why a course in Klingon history is required for the command track, Bones?”

He quotes the adage, “‘Know thy enemy.'”

But Jim shakes his head. “It’s more than that. Like the rest of us, the Klingon race started out on a single world. So, what united them into an empire instead of a federation? What has made them strong, and what prevents their system from collapsing into chaos?”

“In other words, they’re a case study of the success of tyranny,” Leonard summarizes.

“Perhaps, Bones. For now one might call their empire successful.”

Scotty makes a face. “Talking about the Klingons isn’t making me feel any easier.”

“Me either, Jim.”

“Gentlemen, my point is a simple one. The knowledge is invaluable in the field. The studies conducted on Aurelis—past and present—have indicated more than a few similarities between the evolution of their society and the Klingons’. The potential there is… frightening.”

Leonard draws in a quick breath. “So why are we pushing them to join the Federation?”

Jim drums his fingertips on an armrest. “Then should we overlook an opportunity to positively influence a people who might one day decide to start an empire of their own?”

“That’s dodgy territory, Jim. When does setting a good example become altering the natural course of a species?”

“I know.” Kirk sighs heavily through his nose. “And I don’t necessarily believe we should involve ourselves. Starfleet Command and the Federation Board feel differently.”

“Capt’n,” Scotty cuts in, “distressing as it sounds, I recommend we table that worry for another time, given that we don’t find ourselves in an interplanetary war before then.”

“I agree, Mr. Scott. The priority is to tackle the present threat.”

“The Romulans,” Leonard replies.

“Yes.” Jim visibly hesitates. “And as for Spock…”

Leonard cannot help himself. He reaches for Jim’s hand, just to cover it with his own, if briefly. “Spock can take care of himself. Besides, maybe he can be of some use to us from down there.”

Jim returns the gesture of comfort by capturing Leonard’s fingers and squeezing them. Then he lets Leonard go. “You looked like you had an idea a minute ago. What was it?”

“I was thinking we might take advantage of that passenger shuttle going back and forth to the Gala.”

A new light comes into Jim’s eyes, the kind that usually implies he has already leaped three or four thoughts ahead of the rest of them. “We can’t beam down to the moon, but masquerading as crewmen from another ship we might just have a chance of finding a way in.”

Scotty leans forward. “Aye, I like the sound of that. We’ve got more than a few Federation friends in orbit with us. Though, Capt’n, wouldn’t it be better to send someone the Governor and her security team wouldn’t recognize?”

Leonard purses his mouth, dismayed. He wanted to rescue Spock.

The brief flicker across Kirk’s face belies a similar kind of emotion but the man nods his approval. “I want a list of the other captains as soon as you can get it. I don’t care if they’re manning battle cruisers or two-passenger rowboats.”

“I’ll ask Uhura to work on it right away, sir.”

“Good. Bones.”

“Captain?”

“What would you say to joining me on the Observation Deck?”

Leonard is surprised Jim would bother to ask him that. “Where you go, I go, Jim.”

His captain stands up. “Meeting adjourned, then. Scotty, you know where we’ll be.”

“Aye.” The engineer comes to his feet as well and is the first to leave.

Jim catches Leonard’s eyes for a moment. Oddly enough, he doesn’t say anything before he turns away. Leonard joins him in the outer corridor a minute later and in silence they walk to the nearest turbolift.

Whatever is on Jim’s mind, Leonard realizes then, is not something he wishes to discuss in public. Leonard finds that he is anxious to know exactly what that ‘something’ is.

The Observation Deck should be occupied even into an early third shift (being one of the more popular rendezvous spots on the ship) but it’s as though word got out that the Captain and CMO were in need of privacy. Leonard’s companion strides for the viewing platform; if he notices the absence of others, he doesn’t mention it.

The men take a few seconds to make themselves comfortable against the railing: Jim with his gaze fixed upon the view of their orbit and Leonard half-turned towards him in anticipation and concern. The round, luminous glow of the Aurelis Moon below the Enterprise washes the deck in white. Nothing seems hidden, but the moonlight has created shadows in place where usually there are none.

Eventually Kirk breaks the silence between them. “You were right.”

Leonard swallows an automatic retort of Aren’t I always?

“We can use Spock. We need information only the Aurelians would know, and he’s in a position to obtain it.” The man leans his weight onto the railing, releasing a slow breath. “But should he be caught… you can imagine what that might cost. There wouldn’t be anything you or I could do to mitigate the repercussions.”

“Yes,” Leonard says patiently, “but why are you telling me all of this if you’ve already made up your mind?”

“Because I want the opinion of someone who cares about the person more than the outcome.”

Leonard frowns. “Jim, no one could care for Spock more than you.”

“For me to remain objective that cannot matter.” Jim turns his head to look at Leonard. “But, Bones, this time I need the other side to be argued. I need it.”

“From me,” the doctor finishes, unable to puzzle out the reason for the soft edge of desperation to Jim’s voice.

“Who better?” One of Jim’s hands lifts from the railing to run over his face. “You know I’m not good at expressing myself over… personal matters.” His hand drops away and he faces Leonard. “But I don’t have to, do I? Not when there’s you.”

Leonard huffs. “Are you trying to insult me or compliment me, Captain?”

Jim laughs, the sound light but all too brief. “It’s no insult that your strength complements my weakness.”

The doctor places a hand over his heart. “James T. Kirk admitting that he can be weak? Is the sky falling?”

“Joke all you want, Bones, but I’m no fool. I can recognize value when I see it.” His smile fades somewhat. “That said, are you still angry with me?”

He hesitates, telling himself that he owes Jim the same measure of honesty. “Anger was only a small part of it.”

“I hope you know that I didn’t intend to hurt you.”

“I know that, Jim. It’s my disappointment that I have to contend with. I can’t force you to perceive me the way I want to be perceived.”

Jim studies Leonard, gaze serious. “How do you want to be perceived?”

He has no hesitation this time. “As an equal.”

Jim’s small step forward brings them closer together. “You are equal in my eyes.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t going to ask me in which respect?”

“I don’t need to. What I said applies on all accounts, Bones.”

Leonard sighs. “Then how did we end up here?”

Jim’s hands curl around the doctor’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. Have I said that? Because I am.”

The play of light and shadow across Jim’s face gives him a strange allure. Leonard is struck by a sudden, irrational fantasy that he is being drawn close for a reason much more intimate than would accompany a friendly apology. His right hand tightens on the railing after the shock of that thought, and he uses his self-imposed tether to slowly pull himself back.

“You… ah,” he says somewhat nervously, “haven’t told me the specifics of your plan for Spock.”

Bones,” Jim says just once, some kind of soft plea, then reluctantly lets go of him. “I suppose this means you won’t argue with me?”

“It will be a good plan,” Leonard replies, his jittery feeling fading away. “Besides, Spock would get mad if you didn’t give him an important task to do.”

Amused resignation passes through Jim’s eyes. “Handing himself over to the enemy wasn’t enough?”

Leonard snorts. “Hardly. He’ll be bored by now.”

“Bones, you…” But Jim settles for shaking his head instead of finishing his statement. “Never mind.”

Leonard pushes away to step down from the platform. “I assume you want to get that pointy-eared computer on the horn.”

“‘On the horn?'” Jim follows him. “What century are you from?”

“I’m Southern. No sayin’ is outdated to us Southerners.”

When Jim is finally in step beside him, as if on cue, the nearest wall comm unit comes alive with “Bridge to Captain Kirk.

Jim makes a change in their course to bring them up to the unit. “Kirk here.”

Capt’n, we’ve got that list ye requested.

“Excellent, Mr. Scott. Dr. McCoy and I are headed your way. I think it’s time to make a house few calls.”

Aye, sir.

Kirk glances sidelong at the man next to him. “Something you want to add, Bones?”

Leonard smiles, locking his hands behind his back. “Not a thing, Jim. Not a thing.”

The captain appears take the doctor at his word, for in the next moment they abandon the Observation Deck to its strange shadows.

~~~

Kirk veers towards his Chief Communications Officer’s station before he descends from the upper level of the bridge.

To her, he says, “See if you can reach Mr. Spock.”

“Yes, Captain.” A moment later, Uhura reports, “Sensors indicate broadcast signals are functioning normally, sir. I have routed an open channel to your chair.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Jim punches a button with the side of his fist as he sits down. “Enterprise to Commander Spock.”

Spock here. Captain, it is a pleasure to hear your voice.

Jim leans forward as if by being closer to the speaker, he can become closer to his absent officer. “…Spock,” he starts and stops, seeming to mentally shake himself. “What is your status?”

Currently in seclusion, Captain, although my surroundings are by no means uncomfortable. When I informed the Governor I had no desire to rejoin the Gala with her, I was escorted here. My… company is still with me.

Leonard leans over the chair’s back. “Spock, I hope they’ve been civil to you.”

Quite, Doctor. It seems that while the Governor may dislike many species, Vulcans are worth her admiration.

“He’s perfectly fine, Jim.”

Kirk only nods. “Spock, the dialect, can you…?”

I have already done so. I must point out that an adjustment to the logarithms of the program seems necessary. The translation from Standard to Vulcan is appalling.

“Another time, Mr. Spock.” Jim’s hands flex on his knees. “Right now, we need your help. McCoy says you memorized the layout of the mansion. Do you know where the operations control room would be?”

Affirmative.

“See if you can access the records of Connors’ arrival on Aurelis—when he arrived, by what vessel, anything you think we can use.”

To what extent may I proceed?

“By any means necessary,” Jim answers grimly.

Leonard grips the back of the chair but doesn’t say anything against the order.

Understood.

“Spock, it’s safe to assume the Governor has her people working to decrypt our signal. We’re in the process of devising another way to contact you, but until then use your communicator sparingly.”

Leonard’s grip tightens as Spock replies, ever obedient, “Yes, Captain.

“That will be all, Mr. Spock.”

Leonard breaks in, unable to stop himself, “We are going to get you out of there.”

Spock answers in a language Leonard doesn’t understand.

“Enterprise out.” Jim signals Uhura to close the channel.

“What did he say?” Leonard asks a moment later.

Uhura turns away from her station. “He quoted a line from a famous Vulcan poem, Dr. McCoy.” She recites it in Vulcan then in Standard: ‘Faith is the bloom that does not waver in a strong wind.'”

Kirk closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he asks for the roster of vessels.

Scotty steps down to the lower level with a data padd in hand. “You’ll recognize some of the names.”

Leonard reads the list from over his captain’s shoulder. When Jim reaches the end, he scrolls back to the top and goes through it a second time.

“Anyone who’ll do in a pinch?” Leonard asks softly.

“Yes but…” The man stops scrolling halfway down and taps his finger against the padd screen. “This one. Does it look familiar to you?”

Leonard reads off the name of the craft. “Maid Marian?” He snorts. “The owner must think he is Robin Hood.”

“Not that, Bones. It’s civilian. Registered to Mr. Harold Fenton.”

Leonard watches Jim’s face for some sign of what he might be thinking. “Should I recognize that name?”

Kirk turns in his chair. “Uhura, open a hail to the Maid Marian.”

“Hailing, sir.” She frowns and adds after a minute of concentrating on her earpiece, “No response.”

Leonard wonders, “A hunch, Jim?”

Jim pats the back of his neck. “More like a red alert, here. Lieutenant, open the hail from this end.” He leans back in his chair. “This is Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise. I’m requesting to speak to the captain of the Maid Marian.”

“Sir,” Sulu interjects, “she’s breaking out of orbit.”

“Oh, that’s not suspicious at all,” Leonard remarks.

Jim’s eyes have narrowed. “Prepare to break orbit and follow her, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov, what’s the heading?”

“Projecting coordinate 4139.96, mark 1429, Keptin.”

“Plot a course to bring us ahead at warp factor two. Scotty, are the engines warmed up?”

“Aye, all toasty warm, sir.”

Leonard asks no one in particular, “Do I need to sit down for this?”

But Jim tells him, “You’re fine. A civilian charter can’t outrun a constitution-class starship.”

“Apparently nobody told them that.”

“The Maid Marian is nearing the second moon, Captain.”

“On my command, Mr. Sulu,” the captain reminds his pilot.

“Jim, about that debris field…”

“I know, Bones.” Jim taps his fingers against his chair arm. “It’s a smart move on their part, but one that won’t work. Sulu… now!”

It is a testament to the excellent condition of the Enterprise, thinks Leonard, that she can break orbit and go to warp within a parsec. In the blink of an eye, they have leaped the distance separating the twin moons and come to rest just in between the escaping ship and second moon’s debris field.

Kirk orders, “Activate tractor beam. Uhura, hail them.” He addresses the other ship. “I commend you for the attempt, however ineffectual. I have your ship in stasis. Will your captain come forward?”

No one answers.

“We’re not even offered common courtesy. What’s this galaxy coming to?” Leonard murmurs.

Jim’s mouth forms a thin line as he declares to the other vessel, “Prepare to be boarded.” Then he is out of his seat, saying, “Sulu, you have the conn,” and at the turbolift door in three long strides.

Leonard and Scotty exchange a glance and hurry after him.

~~~

Leonard turns the phaser over in his hand. “How about I take my medical tricorder instead?”

His neighbor—and captain—only says, “Phasers set to stun.”

Leonard and the two security officers on the transporter pad comply. From behind the console, manning the controls, Mr. Scott offers their team an encouraging nod.

They reform in a space much too cramped to comfortably house four people.

“Is this a passenger ship or a garbage scow?” Leonard says, eyeing a leaning stack of crates with trepidation.

Jim pushes ahead of their group, weaving his way past several containers and additional towers of crates. It’s almost frightening to discover that this junkyard is the bridge of the spacecraft. At the center of the deck, one being is verbally thrashing another being in a language that sounds like animal screeches.

Then the first being—a human—turns around, his look of distress changing in the next instant to a crow of surprise. “Captain! Why, I didn’t realize it was you!

Kirk smiles grimly. “I thought so. Harold Fenton—or should I say, Harcourt Fenton Mudd.”

“Oh lord,” mutters Leonard. “Not again.”

Harry Mudd’s ruddy face beams back at them. “You’re just as I remember you, Captain Kirk. Ever the dashing fellow!”

No one is buying the act of innocence, especially not Kirk. He demands, “How did you manage to get out of your sentence this time?”

Mudd pats the pockets of his patchwork coat as if the memory might be stowed in one of them. “Well… you see, there was this funny little Rigellan who had a cousin who knew a friend of a friend with a horrible—truly horrible!—head for Andorian ale and—”

Leonard rolls his eyes heavenward at the same time his captain insists, “Enough. I now realize I have no desire to hear the answer.”

“But it’s a good story… well, if you insist. What brings you to my humble abode, Captain? Oh!” Mudd turns to a crate and tugs at its lid, which comes off with a pop of air decompression. “Yes, this one, I think. Have you ever touched real Dinarian crystal?”

Jim steps forward. “We’re not here to buy your wares, Mudd.”

“Then that is a shame, my friends, truly.”

Leonard moves around Kirk to take a look in the open container. “Jim, there are wine glasses in here.”

The garrulous trader halts in his discourse about something that no one is even paying attention to in order to scrutinize McCoy. “Do you want to sample my crystal, sir?”

“Actually,” Leonard says, “I want to know if you supplied the glassware for the Gala.”

Mudd becomes even more animated. “Why, I did, I did! The Aurelians put that awful fruity champagne in them but who am I to tell a customer how to use his product? I just sell it… at a cheap discount might I add. Is this all that you wanted to know? Well then, Kirk, the fright you gave me was quite unwarranted! I thought I might have done something wrong.”

“I don’t doubt that you have,” is Kirk’s dry reply.

But the other man waves his hands about in adamant denial. “No, no, I have turned a new leaf since my unfortunate incarceration—brief though it was. I only operate through the most legitimate channels, with the most scrupulous sources! I assure you, Dinarian crystal is perfectly legal for trade. Again, at a discount. Everything’s discounted. My good man,” he says to one of the security officers, holding up a wine glass, “would you like to test the strength of this glass? I can guarantee that its fracture rate is only a quarter of the cheaper brands.”

“Jim,” Leonard says in a low tone, “he’s going to try to sell us everything on this ship if you don’t say something.”

Jim agrees rather loudly, “You’re right, Doctor.”

Mudd stops to draw a breath. “I beg your pardon? Did you say something, Captain?”

“I did. You’re under arrest.”

He gasps. “On what charge!”

“Registering this trade vessel under a false identify.”

The pilot, who had been hither-to watching the exchange with interest, starts to squawk rapidly in his native language.

“No, no, no, you’re mistaken!” Mudd pleads this to both Kirk’s group and his own staff. “I am Harold Fenton! I simply had to change my name on my business license for… for tax purposes! Death to taxes!

The cry for revolution is lost on the crowd.

Kirk tucks away his phaser. “The fines won’t be overly severe unless there are other—” He eyes the various containers on the bridge. “—anomalies discovered after we confiscate your inventory and turn it over to the United Trade Bureau.”

Mudd turns red in the face. “C-Confiscate…?”

Leonard shakes his head. “What a waste, Jim. And I thought this ship would be perfect to help us out.”

“Yes, I’m disappointed too, Bones.”

“Now, wait a minute, gentlemen,” insists the nervous man as Kirk signals his two security officers to advance on Mudd. “Surely we can reason through this. Where’s that logical Vulcan of yours?”

Kirk flips open his communicator. “This will be the third time you’ve been in my brig.”

“No! No, I-I would be honored to help Starfleet in its time of need!”

The security officers freeze when their captain lifts a stalling hand.

Jim steps forward. “Given our history, Mr. Mudd, why would help me?”

“But that’s why it’s history, Kirk. It’s in the past!” Harry sidles up to Jim, mopping at the sweat on his brow. “Now tell your dear friend Harry how he can be of service to you.”

Jim looks to Leonard. Leonard nods.

“To start,” his captain says, “we need you to convince the Aurelians to buy more crystal.”

The trader snaps his fingers and proclaims, “At a discount!”

Leonard suppresses a laugh. Won’t Spock hate that he missed this bit of fun?

The urge to laugh dies all of a sudden, and his chest tightens. His mouth shapes the Vulcan’s name, but Leonard can’t bring himself to say it when there is no one to answer him.

A hand touches the doctor’s shoulder.

“Bones,” Jim says, his expression controlled but his gaze equally pained as Leonard’s, “time to go.”

~~~

It seems that Mudd might actually be a decent (albeit crafty) salesman. After he is informed that his ship will be released from the traction on the condition that a team of security officers remain onboard the Maid Marian, Mudd returns his ship to its former position in orbit about the Aurelis Moon, and Kirk receives a report from his Chief of Security that the trader wasted no time in contacting the Gala’s event planner. Mudd offers the Aurelian ‘his very last case of rare Dinarian crystal wine glasses at a truly reasonable price’ (upon hearing Mudd’s definition of reasonable, Leonard gags), and then arranges a quick meeting on the moon for the Aurelian to see ‘other special products on sale’ which were not previously mentioned to be part of his cargo. Nobody dares to ask what items Mudd plans to pawn off on the Aurelians.

“I wouldn’t ditch a party for a character like him,” Leonard tells Jim when they finally file out of the transporter room.

“That’s because you don’t have the time or the money, Bones.”

“On a ship surgeon’s salary? You have that right!” Leonard stays in step with Jim all the way to the turbolift. “Have you decided who should go?”

“I should.”

“But you can’t,” Leonard points out, “unless you let me to come too.”

Jim slants a look at him that requires no explanation.

“So,” the doctor presses insistently while they wait for the lift to arrive, “who’s going?”

“Sulu, most likely.”

“Good choice.”

The lift arrives and its door slides open, but Leonard stays behind while his friend boards the turbolift.

“Bones?” Jim questions.

“I want to check in with Sickbay.”

The other man nods. “All right.” To the ship’s computer, Kirk orders, “Bridge.”

The door closes. Leonard waits until the lift is in motion before he rubs at his chin. Then he locates the nearest wall comm and places a call to his head nurse. “McCoy to Chapel.”

The woman who answers sounds groggy. “…Dr. McCoy?”

“Sorry to wake you, Christine, but this is an emergency.”

“Right. I’ll be in Sickbay in five minutes.”

“No, meet me in my quarters instead.”

“What?”

“And you can have ten minutes,” he decides. “McCoy out.”

~~~

The best defense is a good offense, many people would claim.

Leonard McCoy, chief surgeon and medical officer of the USS Enterprise, is one of them. He enters the transporter room with his shoulders back and his gait unusually arrogant. He says breezily to the staring technician, “Carry on, Lieutenant,” and steps right up to the platform like he belongs there.

But he doesn’t belong there. He really doesn’t.

The only other officer on the transporter pad must know this fact, but he’s too busy gaping at McCoy to point it out.

Leonard flips the edge of his upturned cape back into position and strokes his beard.

Chekov, being an impressionable young man, reaches over to tug on it.

Leonard slaps the hand away with “That hurts!”

“It iz real!” exclaims Chekov.

“Very real,” the doctor assures him, wincing at the pain. “And itchy.”

Inhibitors are easy enough in Leonard’s opinion; but growth stimulants, not so much. Especially when one is determined to grow a beard in less than thirty minutes.

Overall, though, he finds that he is extremely pleased with his disguise. Chapel had helped him raid Requisitions for a suitable outfit, one that any modern day trader would wear. She said he looks like a swashbuckling pirate.

“You look like a pirate,” Chekov tells him, still in awe. “Ze look iz good.”

Leonard beams. “I’ve heard that before. Thanks.”

At last, Chekov displays some hesitation. “But, Doctor, are you supposed to…?”

Leonard shoots a surreptitious glance at the transporter tech to see if she is listening and pointedly lowers his voice. “What about you?” he challenges. “Should you be here—or Sulu?”

Chekov’s eyes flash. “I am ze best for zis mission.”

Leonard nods upon hearing the expected answer. Chekov has a lot of loyalty to Spock, he knows, since Spock has taken the young man under his wing for special training in the Sciences. “Me too, Pavel. Spock needs us.”

That appears to satisfy Chekov as to his partner-in-crime’s qualifications. The ensign tells the technician in an eager tone, “Ve are ready. Engage ze transporter.”

A moment later the men reform inside Mudd’s ship, startling one pilot and few security officers.

Mudd, himself, only looks over the newcomers with aplomb and declares, “Yes, you’ll do.” He doesn’t mention the fact that their designated party of two has gained an extra member.

But the Chief of Security, Giotto, is not so dismissive. His hard stare unnerves the doctor.

Leonard grabs Mudd’s arm. “We should go. Where’s your shuttle bay?”

“On a ship this small?” Laughter booms across the bridge. “No, no, Dr. McCoy. I have no bay. Only an airlock. Last I checked, my shuttle was attached.”

The doctor’s stomach turns. “Oh. Will… we all fit?”

“Of course! If the boy here sits on your lap.”

Chekov starts forward. “Who iz he calling a boy?”

Giotto starts forward as well.

Leonard makes an executive decision and grabs Chekov with his other hand. Then he hauls both soon-to-be shuttle companions off the crowded bridge at a fast clip, declaring brightly, “Better be on our way ‘fore our customers get antsy!”

He has no doubt that Jim is going to learn in the next minute or so from Giotto that the Enterprise is now short one CMO, and he would rather be on a rickety shuttle with a sleazy salesman and an angry Russian plummeting towards a moon than face that particular danger.

Once settled in the shuttlecraft, he sighs and grumbles to himself, “Jim’s going to kill me.”

In the doctor’s lap, the sneering Chekov says ominously, “I have not forgotten ze androids. Vhen do ve take our revenge?”

Mudd is the one who answers, smiling. “Revenge comes in good time, my boy—in good time.”

Maybe, Leonard decides after all, facing his captain’s wrath would not have been this bad.

~~~

Chekov doesn’t complain when Leonard leaves him with the physical labor of moving the crates from the shuttle into the hangar at the edge of the grounds. Chekov mutters something about Mudd, cretins, and Russia, too preoccupied to need much convincing that one person would be less inconspicuous than two in hunting down Spock. Leonard is aware that Chekov’s ire has mostly to do with Mudd introducing them to the Aurelian guards as the slow-witted help.

Finding Spock proves much easier than Leonard anticipates. Other than a few strange looks cast in his direction, no one stops him from entering the main hall. And no one seems to care when he deviates from the ballroom to a different wing of the mansion.

When he arrives at the entry to a room that Spock must be in, he hesitates and concludes it would be safer to stick a toe in the doorway than his whole body. After all, who knows what goons and weapons lie in wait on the other side?

This is the point at which he realizes his fencing sword might be more for decoration than protection.

When the movement of the doctor’s foot sets off no major catastrophes, he decides to try the doorknob.

The door swings to an eerily empty control center—except for the presence of one person.

A smile breaks across Leonard’s face.

Spock doesn’t turn around.

Leonard’s smile wavers.

Spock still fails to turn around.

“Spock… Psst, Spock!” he hisses.

Why the heck doesn’t the Vulcan respond?

Nervous now, Leonard is about to bolt into the room to drag Spock away to a safe corner where he can examine him when the person in question finally shifts to face the doorway. The communicator in Spock’s hand emits a high-pitched noise that can only be Jim Kirk in the middle of a rage.

Spock blinks at Leonard for one long second before decisively closing the lid on his communicator.

“Dr. McCoy,” he says, “you are not in good favor with the Captain.”

Leonard breathes a sigh of relief and eases into the room. “I thought something bad had happened to you. Don’t scare me like that!”

“The Captain is quite upset.”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“It appears you did not have permission to accompany Mr. Chekov to the surface… and that Mr. Chekov was not given permission also. This is all that I could determine before his speech became completely insensate.”

Leonard moves a little closer to Spock, eyeing him dubiously. “Did anybody mention the part about this being a rescue mission?”

“I inferred that.” Spock clips his comm to his belt and folds his hands behind his back.

“Are you upset too?”

Spock only looks at him.

Leonard sighs. “Or do you have something to say to me, Mr. Spock? The desire, perhaps, to call me out for disobeying my captain.”

“Negative.”

Leonard is surprised. “What?”

“Negative.”

That can’t be. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Vulcan?”

Spock lifts an eyebrow. “Would a lecture assure you of my identity?”

“Never mind,” Leonard says, rocking back on his heels, “it’s definitely you.”

“Indeed.”

Finally at ease, Leonard sidles around Spock for a better look at the room. “I’m really shocked that the security is so lacking around here. How can they let just anybody walk in?”

“This room was well-guarded.”

Leonard purses his mouth. “Then what happened to the guards?”

Spock’s other eyebrow goes up. “I temporarily disabled them.” He indicates a series of blinking lights on a panel. “But this room does have additional security measures. Every ten minutes an alarm must be reset or this area will engage in lockdown and alert other stations to an unauthorized presence. I was able to decipher the code in time to prevent such an event from taking place; however, the code requires manual input.”

“In other words, now that you’re in here, you can’t get out?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Well, crap. The doctor crosses his arms. “Okay, show me how to work the thing.”

“I cannot until the allotted time.”

“Then we’ll wait.” He looks around for somewhere to sit. “Did Jim tell you whose shuttle we commandeered?”

“Affirmative.”

“The man’s still here. A little jumpy but cooperating. After you show me this code, I want you to take my place on the shuttle and get off this blasted moon.”

“Dr. McCoy…”

“That’s not an order,” Leonard goes on to say, “since clearly I’ve earned myself immediate discharge from active duty and a future hearing on misconduct. No, it’s a plea, Spock, from one friend to another. Jim needs you back on the ship.”

Spock watches him for some time, like he has encountered a joke but is not yet certain of the punch line.

Leonard has to look away.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you insist on taking my place, knowing that I voluntarily chose to be here?”

A sarcastic remark wells up but Leonard punches it down. “Spock, I think I gave that answer. You need to be with our captain.”

“Why?”

It’s becoming more difficult to quell his frustration. “Because you’re his First Officer!”

“And you are the ship’s Chief Medical Officer.”

“I know who I am, believe me,” Leonard retorts. “I know where I stand too.”

To Leonard’s surprise, Spock crosses the distance between them. “If you are implying that your value is not equal to mine, you have not been paying attention.”

He waves that remark away. “Yeah, yeah, all life is equal.”

“I said ‘value’, not life.”

Leonard’s hand stutters along with his brain, making him unable to think up a proper response.

Spock takes one more step forward. “Let me phrase the matter this way, Leonard: do not be heedless of your own worth. As someone who is aware of how valuable you are, you will offend me.”

His mouth opens, closes. “Did… did you just threaten me with yourself?”

“In theory.”

“How does that work?”

“I believe, once offended, I am required to defend your honor.”

Leonard slaps a hand over his mouth but not in time to prevent his laughter from escaping. It takes several tries of clearing his throat to regain his composure. “I’m going to say ‘thank you’ and let it go at that.”

“That would be most appreciated.”

Leonard becomes distracted from making a comeback by a warning beep from the control panel with the blinking lights.

Spock moves away. “The code must be entered in precisely twenty-eight seconds.”

Leonard observes the Vulcan carefully through the process of disengaging the security alarm. By the end, he says, “It looks simple enough.”

Then, after a pause, he adds, “But you aren’t going to the shuttle, are you?”

“Negative.”

Leonard mutters something uncomplimentary about stubbornness and Vulcans.

Spock’s communicator alerts them to an incoming transmission.

Leonard curses under his breath and pleads, “Pretend I’m not here!”

“I should not lie.”

“Then sidestep the inquisition. You’re good at that.”

“To what are you referring?”

“Oh, just answer the damn thing!”

The Vulcan does. “Spock here.”

Their captain minces no words. “Give the communicator to McCoy.

Leonard waves his hands frantically in a show of no, don’t give it to me!

“Captain, Dr. McCoy refuses to take the communicator.”

There’s no need to crank up the volume because Jim grows so loud that the speaker undercuts his words with static.

Dr. McCoy, you will return to the Enterprise immediately. In case that order is not clear to you, I want you on Mudd’s shuttle and en route to the ship before I count to ten!

Spock’s eyebrows rise to his hairline. “Jim, that is not possible.”

One!

The Vulcan stares at his communicator, no doubt perturbed that his supposedly genius captain appears to have lost his mind.

Two!

Leonard snatches the communicator. “All right, all right,” he grumps into it, “you’ve made your point.”

Silence. Then, “Bones, you drive me crazy.

“Clearly,” observes Spock.

Leonard rolls his eyes. “No use in crying over spilled milk, Jim. Why don’t you tell us what you want us to do from here?”

I knew what I had planned, Bones, then you went and threw me a curve ball.

“You’re tough. You can handle it.”

“Gentlemen,” Spock interrupts them, “I suggest we dispense with the superfluous comments.”

“Ever a party pooper, Spock.”

Spock, what have you found out about Connors?

“Something that I believe will be quite useful. I was able to access the local communications database and find the record of Connors’ arrival, which occurred three solar days prior to today. In total, he made four visits to Aurelis. The records indicate the purpose as business and list his arrival and departure vessels as the same D-class freighter. I have evidence that he did bring multiple shipments of wine, supposedly for this event, which leads me to conclude that it was imperative he maintained his ruse as a wine trader. This was likely to hide his true purpose from the Governor and her faction, but that is pure speculation and not fact.”

“At least the Romulans aren’t fools,” Leonard mutters.

What else?

“A fact of which you can make use, Captain. I ran the freighter’s registration marker against all known vessels in the area. It is still in orbit from the last rendezvous.”

Scotty,” Kirk barks, “retrieve that list! Spock, what was the registration number?

Spock recites it obediently.

Leonard brings the communicator closer to his chest, surreptitiously tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth. He isn’t disappointed, for soon after Kirk makes a noise of triumph.

Thank you, Mr. Spock. We’ll take it from here.

“Jim, be careful. Even if there’s another ship on its way here for the exchange, I’d bet a month’s salary somebody else on that freighter is either Romulan or knows about them.”

I’m counting on it, Bones.

“Just keep in mind I’m not around to give you pointy ears this time.”

I don’t intend to play a Romulan.” The communicator sound fizzles out for a moment, then returns. “…Spock?

“Yes, Jim?”

Do I need to tell you what your main priority is?

“Negative.”

Good. Bones, I feel like a broken record here but stay out of trouble.

“I’ll do my best, Captain.”

Sulu, alter our course to parallel that ship. Spock, McCoy…” The sound goes out again, causing Spock to reach for the communicator. “…Kirk out.

Leonard gladly hands the device back to Spock. “I’m guessing by ‘main priority’ he means he wants us both back on the ship safely.”

Spock busies himself with turning the frequency dial. “Your main priority would be your safety, Doctor.”

Leonard blinks. “Okay… and yours?”

“It is also.” The reply is much too vague for someone who is normally straightforward.

Leonard resists the urge to scratch his head (or his beard, since it still itches) and lets that go. “If we leave as soon as we enter the code, could we make it to the shuttlecraft in ten minutes?”

Spock apparently gives up on the communicator and reattaches it to his belt. “The most direct route would take us through the ballroom and require approximately eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds to reach the shuttle hangar.”

“Meaning, even if we don’t encounter delays along the way, the Aurelians will have time to react.”

“Unfortunately.”

Leonard squares his shoulders. “I say we do it anyway.”

“Based on what reasoning?”

He flaps his cape. “That I feel like a real pirate in this get-up.”

“Dr. McCoy, that is the most illogical remark you have made over the course of our acquaintance, and you have made many of them.”

“Oh, bah. You’re just jealous of my beard.”

“I do not see how one could experience jealousy over facial hair.”

“You take all the fun out of these conversations, hobgoblin.”

Spock ignores that in lieu of turning his attention to the control panel.

Leonard joins him. “You do agree that we should try get off this moon as soon as possible, don’t you?”

“Where is Mr. Chekov?”

“I told him to stay with Mudd. The last thing we need is that man double-crossing us for a few extra credits.” He pulls his tricorder around to his front by the strap. “I’m tracking Chekov’s bio-signature. This thing says he is still where I left him, thank god.”

“I presume the tracking program is how you found me.”

“Of course. I’m a doctor, not a psychic.”

“We have exactly three minutes before the reset.” Spock pauses. “In the event that our attempt to escape is foiled, you must not allow yourself to be captured.”

“Well I certainly don’t have a death wish. The three of us can hide together until Jim finds a way to retrieve us.”

A short silence ensues.

Then Spock says, almost tentatively, “Doctor, there is one question I would ask of you, for I find myself at a crossroads, unable to make a decision.”

“We have a little time left, so shoot.”

“You placed yourself in jeopardy knowing the negative effect it would have on the Captain. Why?”

In another time and place he might have retorted, I could ask the same thing of you, but there is no urge to do so now.

Leonard only wants to speak the truth. “No one wants to live in a glass house, Spock, not if we’ve chosen the business of risk. I know it hurts Jim to lose people. You and I both know it, have seen what it does to him, probably more thoroughly than anyone else. But having an emotional attachment will always be a double-edged sword. It means you can easily justify hurting the one you care about in order to protect him. Jim has been denying my offer to help from the beginning for this exact reason, just as you may recall I denied his need to protect me so I could stay here to protect him.

“An interesting philosophical quandary.”

“But does it make sense?”

“Regrettably so.”

Leonard sighs. “I don’t know, Spock. Maybe you Vulcans have it right. Caring too strongly makes a sane person lose his sense. Or in this case, his sense of self-preservation.”

“Vulcans are not immune to such fallacies.”

A slight smile touches the doctor’s face. “I know. You’ve proven that many times, enough to give me heart palpitations whenever you and Jim go off on a mission without me.”

“Would this be why you assign yourself to landing parties that do not require the presence of the CMO?”

“If you want someone to blame for that, you and Jim are the ones who have to approve the participation.”

“Then perhaps, given our close association with one another, we should require a third party approval to negate the conflict of interest.” The control panel beeps.

Leonard locks his hands behind his back, nearly to the point of bouncing on the balls of his feet. He teases, “Why, Spock, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you just admitted that you like me!”

“On the contrary, it is you who likes me, Doctor. You said so yourself.” Spock finishes inputting the code.

Leonard’s heels come down hard on the ground. “Didn’t I take that back?”

Spock inclines his head. “There are, I believe, no ‘takesies backsies’ when it comes to emotional confessions.”

At the tail end of that statement, the Vulcan drifts away to the door.

“Now hold on! What emotion?!” Leonard cries, catching up to him. “Damn it, you green-blooded nuisance, you can’t have the last word!”

To the officers’ utter surprise, the door opens before they reach it—and the Governor of Aurelis smiles at them from the other side.

“So,” she says, her tone pleasant despite the unsheathed saber in her hand, “this is where my honored guest has been hiding.”

Spock reaches back without looking to take hold of Leonard’s arm.

“At this time,” Leonard hears him murmur, “it is advisable to run.”

Next Part

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About KLMeri

Owner of SpaceTrio. Co-mod of McSpirk Holiday Fest. Fanfiction author of stories about Kirk, Spock, and McCoy.

3 Comments

  1. hora_tio

    Oh boy, LOL, Jim is going to have their heads for sure now….. I feel like with this chapter you have given such clarity as to what makes up the triumvirate, why it exists, why is works, and how for them to be the best people possible they need the others. KUDOS and eeks Jim is going to be spitting fire..LOL

    • writer_klmeri

      Thank you! Jim has definitely been on the edge this entire chapter (except when he was running after Mudd). Between Spock and McCoy, he doesn’t get a break! But I think that’s just. :) Most of the time it’s the other way around.

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