Title: Drink One For Me (6/7)
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 | 4 | 5
Or read at AO3

I went down the rabbit hole this week and before I knew it I was unable to get out again. I fully blame it on this story and its characters, who refused to do as I asked, causing me to write and re-write and re-write again every single scene. You are welcome to come after me with the pitch fork for not delivering on my promise to be timely but afterwards please settle down and enjoy these two chapters. It would have been nice to have given you 15k words solely of McSpirk cuddling but sometimes we have to settle for the occasional hug instead. :)

Thank you to everyone who has patiently followed along, who has supported me through the agony of writing, and especially to those who have taken the time to acknowledge my efforts through comments or reviews or simply kudos. I appreciate all of you!

Part Five

Why do I even bother? thinks the man sprawled across the hangar floor with a boot painfully pressed into his gut and a bleeding cut on his cheek.

“I’m not lying,” he tells his assailant. “Apparently you’re next in line to serve the higher purpose.”

Jorval sneers down at him. “You humans and your deceitful tongues. It would be a service to relieve you of yours.”

Leonard supposes the Governor was right about her nephew inheriting the family temper. It’s uncanny how much Jorval resembles his aunt right now. He says with a sigh, “Get your foot off my stomach. I need to check on my friends.”

The Aurelian offers him a cruel smile. “You needn’t worry they will go anywhere.”

Leonard pushes the foot off of him and sits up. “You’re a bastard.”

He limps his way over to Chekov, the one closest to him, and kneels down, turning the young man over onto his back. He knows Pavel has only been stunned (and with his own phaser, how ironic) but the doctor part of Leonard will always need the reassurance of an examination. He takes Chekov’s pulse and checks his pupils, wishing he had his tricorder but knowing it would be futile to demand it back.

“Sorry, Pavel,” he apologizes to the unnaturally peaceful face. “You deserve a commendation. Tell Jim I said he has to give you one.”

He goes to Spock next and, even more gently, rolls the Vulcan over, straightening out the crooked limbs into some semblance of dignity. He is careful to avoid Spock’s hands while he searches for a pulse from the wrist, but afterwards he finds himself violating his own code of professionalism by affectionately brushing back the Vulcan’s short bangs.

For a second, the doctor’s throat works with emotion. “You’re an idiot but thank you. For everything.”

There is more he should probably say but the right words seem to desert him. He tucks Spock’s arms at Spock’s sides and rises slowly to his feet. Without turning around, he says, “Let’s get this over with.”

At least he doesn’t have to die while his shipmates are watching.

But to Leonard’s surprise, Jorval doesn’t oblige him. Instead the Aurelian wants to know, “The first and second deaths… Who were they?”

Leonard turns around. “The first, that would be the Romulan.”

Jorval’s gaze hardens. “What Romulan?”

“You called him Doctor, but I knew him by the name of Mark Connors.”

Jorval doesn’t seem surprised, but he neither denies nor admits knowing Connors operated under a false identity.

Leonard indicates Spock. “The second death was him, or at least the Governor and her husband think so. Since you plan to make his death real, you will be doing them a favor.”

“As I should,” Jorval replies.

“Then you must be eager to die yourself.” To emphasize how little he cares, Leonard makes a nonchalant gesture at the Aurelian. “Whatever. I don’t think I want to help you anyway.”

Jorval takes a step forward. “How would you help me?”

Ah, got you.

The doctor locks his hands at his back and rocks slightly on his feet. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“You’ve insinuated that my own family has betrayed me.”

“Seems to be the way of things ’round here.”

“Silence, human. I must think on this.” Jorval sheathes his sword. A flick of his wrist sends the circle of guards retreating to the opposite side of the hangar. “Tala would destroy me quite readily, given an opportunity. This is the only reason I am willing to entertain your tale as truth. I should be the heir-apparent.” One of his hands clenches into a fist. “But now that my aunt has married, by law any child she bears shall become her successor. He said it would not be. He said he bore no affection for her. That there would be no child from their union.”

“A man in love will lie through his teeth,” Leonard interjects. “And believe me, the Consort looked about as excited as could be to have won his wife’s approval. ‘Course there’s the little matter of sacrificing somebody to finish up whatever their ‘joining’ is. After that, my guess is that heir will come along in no time.”

“How dare they!” hisses Jorval, pacing about with abbreviated, angry movements. “I would rather offer my head for treason than die to bless the sanctity of an Heir!”

“Yes, it’s just awful,” Leonard murmurs.

Jorval whirls about to glare at the human. “I must show I am not to be trifled with. You will help me. Your ship—take me to it.”

Leonard shakes his head. “That’s not possible.”

The Aurelian puts a hand to the pommel of his sword. “I am not asking.”

“And I’m saying it’s not possible,” Leonard shoots back. He doesn’t mention that just on principle alone he wouldn’t let Jorval step foot on the Enterprise. “I don’t have a way to contact my people.”

Jorval falls silent.

“And even if we could reach them, there’s no way to transport us off the moon.”

Jorval still says nothing.

Leonard shrugs. “Now you see why it’s hopeless—and why you might as well kill me now. If you don’t, it’s only a matter of time before your aunt and uncle catch me and get rid of me too. Either way I know my chances of survival are slim.”

“There… could be a way for you to live,” Jorval reveals slowly. “The building’s deflection system can be overridden from the central control tower. Once disabled, we could attempt contact with your starship.”

“But the window of opportunity would be brief,” Leonard guesses.

“Very brief.” Jorval straightens, a strange composure settling over him. “If we try and fail, I swear to end your life as you wish. You will then become the third and final death.”

That plan is far less appealing than Jorval makes it sound. Leonard rubs his forehead. “So what’s stopping you from killing me now?”

The Aurelian turns away without answering.

Leonard doesn’t need the answer because he understands all too well. Jorval has been marked for death; it’s only a matter of time before his aunt and uncle find a way to succeed in destroying him.

Suppressing the urge to shudder, the doctor makes an executive decision. “We’re out of options. Let’s try it. Which way to the guard tower?”

Jorval’s slash of a glance contains a hint of his normally annoyed demeanor. “Control tower, Doctor.”

“That’s what I said.” Leonard returns to Spock’s side. “Help me get these two up. No, don’t look at me like that. I’m not leaving them behind.”

Jorval corrects his sneer. “If you insist.” A moment later, he tosses Leonard’s tricorder to him. “Wake them up.”

“It’s a tricorder, not an alarm clock.”

Luckily, he has a technique that just might work. Bending over Spock, Leonard raises his hand. The first slap creates a resounding thunderclap across the hangar.

“I know you’re not in a trance, Spock,” Leonard mutters to the unconscious Vulcan, “but I need you to come back now.” He slaps Spock’s cheek again. “C’mon, hobgoblin… This is our last chance.”

Seconds tick by. The Vulcan’s head twitches on its own.

Leonard lowers his stinging palm and places it on Spock’s chest. “Spock? Can you hear me? Wake up. Please.”

Spock’s eyes open, narrowly slit, not entirely aware. “…Leonard?”

Leonard breaks into a grin. “Yes, it’s Leonard, you sleeping beauty. You’re still alive.” He sits back on his heels. “With some luck you can make it back to the Enterprise before someone attempts to kill you again.”

Spock grates out, finally returning to full awareness, “…Luck is for the emotional, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard helps him into a sitting position. “Then consider me ever-so-grateful to be emotional,” he replies, wrapping an arm around Spock’s shoulders as if intending to pull him in for a hug.

“Not in front of the Aurelian,” murmurs Spock.

“I don’t care if it’s the Aurelians, the Romulans, and the Klingons watching,” counters the doctor.

He gives Spock a brief, one-armed hug and when he pulls away, Spock is watching him with peculiar interest. Leonard doesn’t know what to think when the Vulcan swipes a thumb across the cut on his cheek. It is unusual for Spock to have no reserve in touching someone, unless that person is Jim.

But before Leonard can ponder these oddities further, Jorval interrupts the moment by nudging the still-unconscious Chekov with the toe of his boot. “Wake this one, or leave him. My patience wears thin, Doctor.”

With a sigh, Leonard meets Spock’s eyes. “What’re the odds one of us can bring Pavel ’round?”

“Without the benefit of being able to telepathically recognize and respond to another’s distress, I would say the odds are very poor.”

“Then we’ll carry him.”

“Agreed.” Spock stands without the doctor’s aid. To Jorval, he inquires politely, “Why have you kept us alive?”

Appearing to be none-too-pleased with them and himself, Jorval replies, “Your human is convincing after all.”

“Yes,” Spock agrees, the deep timbre of his voice startlingly smooth, “he is like no other.”

It’s easier for Leonard to pretend he didn’t hear that remark because it confuses him more than the look of interest and the touch. Spock is going to need a good psychological evaluation when they return to the ship, he decides. Some of the Vulcan’s wiring must have gotten crossed during their adventures.

He stifles another sigh, hoping they make it that far. He would be glad to be occupied with something simpler and safer as worrying about Spock’s brain.

Then Spock is at his side helping him lift Chekov from the ground and there is no more time for hope, only action.

~~~

“Put him down gently,” Leonard issues the order to the guard in charge of carrying Chekov.

The Aurelian cuts him a look that isn’t friendly in the least, but he doesn’t simply dump poor Pavel on the floor of the control room. Because the young navigator has been out a little longer than Leonard expected, Leonard scans him over with his tricorder for the umpteenth time, looking for some sign of improvement among the readings.

Jorval pauses by Leonard’s shoulder to stare curiously at his tricorder. “I suppose the human is not dead.”

“You turned the setting too high,” Leonard accuses him. “Even on stun, there’s a range to the charge you can use. A high setting on stun can cause serious disruption to the nervous system.”

“Are you expecting an apology?”

Leonard firms his mouth and concentrates on Chekov’s readings. He knows Jorval is mocking him.

Arriving on the other side of Leonard, Spock diverts Jorval’s attention by asking, “Do you have any knowledge of how to operate this system?”

Jorval’s gaze narrows, as though Spock had insulted him.

Leonard touches a hand to Spock’s arm in concern. “Is it that much different than the system in the operations room? Is it impossible to disable the shield?”

Spock looks to him. “Not impossible but time-consuming without guidance.”

Leonard turns to Jorval. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“Was it not sufficient to commit treason by bringing you here?”

“What’s a little more treason, then?” Leonard argues.

Jorval says nothing for a moment, then motions for the guard he chose to accompany them (and to carry Chekov) to remove himself to the hallway. He walks to the long computerized console that forms a half-circle around part of the room and takes a seat in front of the middle section.

“Huh,” Leonard says to Spock after they have been watching the Aurelian for a few minutes, “he looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

When Jorval turns around in his chair, he informs them, “The program will activate on my command and override the operation of the shield. The breach in security, once detected, will trigger the protocol to lock us out.”

Spock approaches the console. “How long do you estimate we have before the breach is detected?”

“Three minutes. No more than five if the security station is unmanned.”

“Very well. Explain what I must do.”

Leonard takes a step back, feeling that he might hinder Jorval and Spock if he tries to keep a close eye on what they are doing. He kneels next to Chekov and talks to the unconscious man. “Cross your fingers, Pavel. It’s come down to the Enterprise or the chopping block.”

There is some movement behind Pavel’s eyelids.

As Leonard quickly scans him, a sense of relief washes over him. He starts to get up. “Spock, Chekov’s coming around.”

“Remain where you are, Doctor.”

Leonard squats back down. Chekov groans, grabbing his attention. He leans down to hear the word the ensign mutters but is hampered by a lack of knowing Russian.

He lightly smacks Pavel’s cheek. “No time for grumbling, kid. Time to wake up. Time to go home!”

“On my mark,” Leonard hears Jorval say. “…Now.”

He turns to watch Spock’s fingers fly across the console as the Vulcan begins the arduous task of pinpointing the right frequency to reach their starship. Spock starts a repetitious monotone of “Spock to Enterprise—come in, Enterprise,” and Leonard becomes too nervous to keep watching. Gripping his medical tricorder, he prays.

The prayer strikes a memory, and suddenly Leonard is thinking of another experience years ago. Back then, he had also sent out a prayer, hoping against the odds that the Enterprise would hear the desperate transmission from afar, would save them. But the Enterprise had never answered, couldn’t have under the circumstances, and the small shuttle crew he had been a part of had nearly burned up in the atmosphere of a planetoid inhabited by unfriendly primitives. It was Spock who had made a last ditch effort to grab the Enterprise’s attention by ejecting the shuttle’s fuel. The act had shocked every human on board. That was the first time Leonard had realized Spock was not as entrenched in his Vulcan discipline as he seemed, that Spock could be analytical and human at the same time. Of course, the doctor had still needled at his superior out of habit as the shuttle descended into the atmosphere, but to himself Leonard had made a promise that, should he survive, he would try harder to understand Spock and maybe—just maybe—support him in being so stubbornly Vulcan. The human side, Leonard had secretly felt, would inevitably follow.

Comparing the Spock from then and the Spock of now causes Leonard to smile. He supposes he did too good of a job. His Vulcan is as logical as ever but also surprisingly friendly. And, to think, that Leonard has actually come to like him in return…

“Mr. Spock!—Mr. Spock!“

Leonard’s head jerks around as Uhura’s voice, quickly overlaid by another, fills the static of the computer speak.

“Mr. Scott,” Spock replies, jumping right into his orders, “time is of the essence. We have four to beam aboard. Tie the locator interface into the long-range sensors and direct your search to the surface based on these coordinates.” He rattles off where they are.

“I knew something fishy was going on when your shuttle took off for the twin moon! Uhura, call the lads in the Transporter Room. Working on re-routing that interface now, Mr. Spock.“

“You have one minute and forty-one seconds.”

“Aye, aye. No pressure at all… Sensor input coming through.“

Leonard notices how tightly Spock’s hands are gripping the edge of the console. He starts to get up again but Spock’s head jerks around and the way the Vulcan’s dark eyes pin him tells Leonard that he is going to suffer severe repercussions if he moves a single centimeter from where he is.

“Sir, I have something. Reading life signs, humanoid, but the locator signal is weak. Cannot identify a match to our database… Mr. Spock…“

“It is as I expected, Mr. Scott. You will not follow protocol. Lock onto the strongest signal mass and proceed with transportation immediately. That is an order. You have one minute and three seconds.”

Leonard has a horrible thought and jumps to his feet. “Spock—Spock, he’s not going to be able to get all of us in time!”

Spock whirls around, nearly shouting, “Do not break position, Dr. McCoy!”

Leonard jerks back but only for a moment as he comes to realize what is really going to happen. “You green-blooded bastard!”

Jorval, at first simply watching them, abandons his chair in haste, having parsed too late why Leonard is yelling at Spock and Spock looks so fierce. The Aurelian leaps forward toward Leonard and Chekov at the same time that Leonard leaps towards Spock—and in the next instant, Pavel blinks open his eyes, shimmers and disappears. Jorval stumbles across the empty spot on the floor a second later.

Leonard grabs Spock and Spock grabs him back. They say together, “You…”

“…crazy…” accuses Leonard.

“…foolish…” determines Spock.

“…Vulcan.”

“…human.”

They stare at each other, incensed, until Jorval forces them to divert their attention by throwing a fit.

“NO!” the Aurelian yells. “No, I must get to your ship! Try again! Try it again!”

“There is no point,” Spock says. “The period for escape has passed.”

The Aurelian fumbles for his sword and draws it. “I said try again—or I’ll kill you!”

Leonard looks to Spock. “Can’t you just knock him unconscious?”

“Where is the phaser?”

“The guard has it, I think.”

“Do you believe I am joking?” Jorval rages. “I will kill you both!“

Spock and Leonard hustle aside as their unstable companion lunges wildly at them and strikes the console instead.

“I will take your heads to the Governor!”

“He’s lost it,” Leonard summarizes. With his foot, he pushes a chair into Jorval’s path and the Aurelian trips over it.

Spock agrees. “I saw no reason to mention that his plan would not succeed as envisioned. I only regret that you were too quick in uncovering my intentions.”

“That’s me,” jokes Leonard. “Smarter than your average human.”

Spock’s reply borders mournful. “A fact which frequently causes me much grievance.”

They move to the opposite side of the console as Jorval takes another futile swipe at them.

“Enough of this,” Leonard decides. “Let’s get ‘im.”

Their counterattack is foiled by the opening of the control room door. Even Jorval is startled by the interruption, so much so that the Aurelian lowers his sword and stares vacantly at the figure in the doorway.

It isn’t anyone Leonard wants to see. “Crap,” he says.

“A succinct summation of the turn of events, Doctor.”

Leonard swallows an exasperated sigh. “We’re done for, Spock, and all you can say is ‘good job’?”

“This is a rather intriguing spectacle,” remarks the third party, entering the room with a row of uniformed officers. “Jorval, have I not told you it is not advisable to play with sharp objects if you cannot master them properly.” He turns to Leonard and Spock. “The dead has returned to life. Astonishing. How did you manage that, Commander Spock?”

“By not dying, your Lordship,” deadpans the Vulcan.

The Consort studies Leonard before inclining his head politely in greeting. “You must be Dr. McCoy. How are you?”

“Hi and not well, thank you,” Leonard returns without enthusiasm.

Jorval, frozen in place, doesn’t appear to register the movements of the other Aurelians until he is surrounded by them and relieved of his weapon. One of the officers hands the saber to the Consort with a bow. The Consort says something to him, and the officer goes to the computer console and takes a seat.

How foolish of you to help the Federation,” the Consort says as he approaches his nephew at a leisurely pace, “and brand yourself a traitor of the People—not that it would matter in the scheme of things.”

Jorval stiffens, the lack of sanity he had displayed before fading away to leave behind an undisguised loathing. “So it seems, Uncle. As the words of the Federation are the only words to be trusted, then I have gladly become a fool.” When he laughs, the sound is bitter. “I knew you needed a pawn. I even knew you would someday wish to be rid of me, but you have shown your hand too soon. Much too soon!” With that, he lunges from the grip of the guards and steals one of their sabers.

The Governor’s husband just stands there, not reacting, and soon Leonard realizes why. In his right hand is their phaser. The low whine of it indicates it is set to kill.

“Look out!” Leonard cries, throwing himself forward to grab the back of Jorval’s uniform.

They lurch sideways in an awkward tangle of limbs just as the whine of the phaser hits a crescendo and the Consort fires. A blinding blast of energy shoots past the pair, catching three guards unawares. The Aurelians dissipate in an instant, not even able to protest their demise.

“Remarkable!” exclaims the Consort, staring at where his guards had been. He redirects his aim at Leonard and Jorval.

Spock brushes up against Leonard’s back, having moved too quickly for Leonard to even realize he had been taken in hand by the Vulcan. Leonard tries only once to shake Spock off before deciding it would be futile.

Eyes wide, Jorval gapes at his uncle. “You almost killed me!”

“That was the intention, Jorval.” The Consort lifts the phaser slightly. “I must admit, I had no idea this weapon was so powerful. Quicker and deadlier than a blade by far. I see now why you have been so keen for the militia to have foreign weapons. Men will simply disappear.”

“That’s not a magic trick you just performed,” Leonard breaks in, abhorred by the Aurelian’s delight. “You vaporized three innocent people!”

“I would not use the term ‘innocent’,” murmurs Spock before directing his next remark to the Consort. “Powerful weapons create significant casualties, as you have just observed. Unless you wish to sacrifice the rest of your officers, I suggest you lower the phaser.”

The guards standing nearest to Leonard’s group shift nervously on their feet.

At length, the Consort tucks the phaser into his sword belt. “Vulcans always speak wisely.” He orders his guards to regain custody of his nephew. “Escort him to a holding cell for trial.”

Leonard swallows hard and has to look away from Jorval’s sudden frantic expression.

Even as the Aurelian is dragged out of the room, he cries for mercy from his uncle.

The Consort gives no sign of being affected by the display. He approaches Leonard and Spock. “You made a valiant effort to escape, but you must know that you have only come this far because my wife has allowed it. Did you think we could not track you?” He gestures at the console. “Especially when you attempt something like this. The sword may be our weapon of choice but we are far from technologically inept. I was alerted the moment you opened a subspace channel.”

The officer at the console announces, “Your Lordship, the defense program has been restored.”

“Excellent. Is there anything of concern in the records?”

“There is record of a molecular transmission from this room… and the docking pad also received an uninterrupted transmission, Your Lordship.”

The Consort goes to the window of the control tower. Following a moment of silence, he turns from the vantage point to say, “Alert the sentry. We have intruders.”

Leonard glances sideways at Spock and wonders if they have finally achieved an end to their bad luck.

The Consort lays a hand along the sill of the window. “You look hopeful, Dr. McCoy, but in truth you have failed more miserably than you can imagine.” His mouth quirks at one corner. “The Romulans are here.”

Leonard releases the breath he has been holding with a curse.

Their bad luck just got worse.

~~~

Leonard has always muttered to himself when he feels particularly helpless. Granted, by doing this he has annoyed people a time or two (or maybe twenty) and sometimes the result of that ended unpleasantly for him, but the verbalization of his anxiety keeps him from freezing during a frightening situation. His head nurse likes to call it his hedgehog response. His caustic wit serves as his prickly spines and is meant to safeguard his softer spots.

Thus he has been rambling since the Consort mentioned the Romulans, poking at no one in particular with his complaints. At the moment his subject matter is focused on their surroundings: “…This is fantastic. The only place I haven’t been on this damn moon is the bathroom. Why don’t you let me see that before I die, or is courtesy to prisoners a foreign concept to you?”

The Aurelian officer keeping in step with Leonard seems to think he is the recipient of the discourse. He glances frequently at Leonard, and at one point opens his mouth as if to reply. Leonard glares at him, effectively shutting the fool up.

He doesn’t want to be interrupted.

“Here we are, being marched to our deaths while people in the ballroom are still drinking and dancing. I can’t believe no one has noticed you goons running around. This place has tighter security than the Presidential Complex on election day.”

“Leonard.”

“Not now, Spock, I’m pontificating on our dire situation.”

“I do not think our companions find your conversation amusing.”

“So what? I should just accept my death quietly?” Leonard sniffs. “You called me by my first name again.”

“I may have no other opportunity to do so.”

Leonard purses his mouth, chews on silence for a second, and finally grumps, “…Hobgoblin.”

“Strange,” remarks the Vulcan. “I have grown fond of that nickname.”

If they hold hands, who cares? They’re about to die. But Leonard has to admonish himself; he’s too shy to try it. He settles for brushing his knuckles against the back of Spock’s hand and then pretending it happened by accident.

Weird. Spock’s hand brushes up against his too.

He sneaks a glance at his companion. “Remind me to thank you in the afterlife, Spock. You’ve made my commission interesting.”

“Our time together has been worthwhile.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He has to look away to hide a glimmer of tears. Damn it, he’s going to miss the Vulcan. And who will take care of Jim?

The remainder of their march is silent and somber. As the hangar where Mudd abandoned them comes into view, Leonard’s shoulders slump in defeat. He doesn’t even have the heart to pick up his diatribe.

The Consort halts their group just inside the entrance. “We wait here.” To Leonard and Spock, he says, “I assume you have encountered the Romulans before and know better than I how they treat prisoners of war. It is my intention to turn you over to them.”

Leonard’s stomach sinks. “Why give us to them?”

Spock is the one to provide the answer. “To engineer the final deception. The Romulans will learn that the Federation has interfered and subsequently blame the failure of their negotiations on Captain Kirk. We will become the consolation prize. Then I suspect the Governor will contact the Enterprise and inform them we have been captured by the Romulans.”

Leonard grimaces. “Leading both parties into battle while the Aurelians escape the conflict unscathed.”

Spock agrees, “That is correct, Doctor. In order to prevent an escalation of war, the Federation and the Romulan Empire will be forced to declare this sector of space as a neutral zone, thereby prohibiting the influence of either party upon Aurelis.”

The Consort looks approving. “You are very perceptive, Commander Spock. I see why my wife appreciates you. Now I regret that we had to meet under these conditions; otherwise you and I might have had some stimulating conversations.”

Spock raises one eyebrow. “I doubt they would be more stimulating than they are now.”

Leonard shuffles closer to Spock. “He prefers peace talks to war games.”

“You are very protective of your Vulcan commander,” the Consort observes of McCoy. “It seems he is equally protective of you. I am curious… How does this affect your loyalty to your captain?”

Spock adopts one of his comfortingly annoyed expressions. “Your question is not relevant.”

No one in their group is expecting another voice to echo across the hangar in reply: “…But I’ll gladly answer it for you.”

Spock freezes, and Leonard has a moment in which to question his sanity. But when the doctor turns around, he finds that he isn’t crazy after all.

Jim Kirk is physically there, crossing the hangar in the forefront of a large party of people.

Spock’s body turns taut as a bow string, and a moment later Leonard realizes why: flanking Jim on either side are Romulan officers, one of which bears the insignia of a command rank—and none of them have bothered to disguise themselves.

Leonard’s heart slams in his chest. Why did he think things couldn’t get worse? Why, oh why, did he ever think that?

When Spock starts in Kirk’s direction, Leonard automatically tries to follow. It isn’t until two Aurelians block their path with swords that they remember their own precarious situation.

“Your Lordship,” Kirk calls in formal greeting, stopping far enough away that they can hear and see him clearly but not close enough to be within reach. “While we appreciate your welcoming party, it was quite unnecessary.” His gaze takes in Spock and Leonard without lingering on them. “You’ve caught my wayward subordinates. I appreciate that too.”

“Now this is amusing,” remarks the Consort, moving to the front of his group. “Captain Kirk, I am surprised. You located the Romulans and brought them directly to us—but for what purpose?”

Kirk takes on a calculating look that Leonard has seen numerous times yet never once felt easy about.

The Romulan commander steps past Kirk. “On behalf of the Empire, I am here to conclude our negotiations. Captain Kirk has agreed to be our witness.”

“…A witness?”

Finally someone has disconcerted the Consort, but Leonard is so disconcerted himself that he can barely think. He echoes a similar disbelief. “What? Jim…”

Kirk doesn’t look at him.

Leonard blurts out, “My god, Jim, are you out of your mind!”

Jim offers the Consort a thin smile. “The Romulans want Aurelis. As far as I’m concerned, they can have it—in exchange for my officers.”

Feeling sick to his stomach, Leonard grabs Spock’s sleeve. “Something’s wrong with him.”

“This entire scenario is… wrong, Doctor,” Spock agrees at length. “Captain, permission to speak freely.”

Jim nods, gaze still fixed elsewhere. “Granted.”

“The Romulans would not agree to help you solely to preserve the lives of two petty officers. What else have you offered them?”

Jim turns his head to them. There is something strange, a sick desperation, in his eyes. Then it’s gone.

“I’ll give them the Enterprise.”

Leonard feels like he is being strangled by an invisible hand.

Spock becomes eerily silent.

Leonard lets go of the Vulcan and steps toward his friend. “Captain, we need to talk.”

“I know what you would say, Dr. McCoy.” Jim refuses to meet his eyes again. “But in case you’ve forgotten, you resigned from your post. You have no authority over me.”

“You’re emotionally compromised.”

Kirk’s head whips around and the look he gives Leonard can flay skin from bone. “Is that what you think?”

“Yes, Jim,” Leonard squeezes past the lump in his throat. “Spock, you know the protocol.”

“I will not take his captaincy.”

Shocked, Leonard turns to the Vulcan. “…What?”

“I will not take Jim’s captaincy,” Spock repeats, staring at the man in question. “You once asserted that my loyalty lies with Captain Kirk. You were correct, Dr. McCoy.”

The Romulans look at one another.

Leonard, feeling betrayed, has no one to turn to.

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Kirk says, a pleased smile turning up the corners of his mouth. His tone turns brusque when he addresses the group of Aurelians. “My First Officer will oversee the proceedings of the exchange. In the meantime, I would appreciate a moment of privacy to deal with my Chief Medical Officer.”

The Consort says, “You implied he was no longer a member of your crew.”

“He isn’t,” Kirk assures him, “but he did serve well in his position for several years and deserves the respect of his title, if little else. I may let you take care of him for me since there’s no point in keeping him now—or I might do it myself. You’ll know soon enough.”

Leonard doesn’t know what to say when Jim closes the distance between them and takes a hard grip on his upper arm. He is fairly certain if he did find his voice, he would make a fool of himself.

Kirk drags him closer.

Leonard digs in his heels.

“Don’t fight me,” the man warns him, adding after a pause, “…Bones.”

In the end Leonard has no fight left in him. Jim called him Bones.

~~~

The hangar office is cramped and cluttered and smells of machinery oil.

As soon as the door closes and their isolation is achieved, Leonard says to Jim, “You had me fooled.”

Jim shifts his grip on Leonard and pulls Leonard into his arms. Kirk doesn’t say anything, just buries his face into the crook of the doctor’s neck.

“Jim…?” Leonard questions after a while. “Don’t tell me you’re crying.”

“Of course not,” comes the muffled reply and a pause. “Give me a moment.”

Leonard relaxes and secures an arm around his friend’s back. “It’s all right. Cry all you want. I was close to tears myself, thinking you’d sold yourself to the Romulans.”

The two men remain like that for some time, silent and comfortingly close.

When Jim pulls back, he regards Leonard with red-rimmed but dry eyes. “I blame you,” he tells McCoy.

“You can’t. I didn’t send you over to the enemy camp.”

“Ah, the things I do,” Jim mutters, letting him go. “We can’t stay here much longer without drawing suspicion. So, hit me with it. What’s your plan, Bones?”

Leonard gapes at him. “My plan?”

“Well I don’t have one,” Jim replies, his voice grim.

“You engineered a way to get in here without figuring out how to get yourself out again? Oh, I should have known!”

“Believe it or not, Bones, sometimes I do crazy things.” Jim steps away to pace but curses when he realizes the size of the office won’t accommodate his need to move. He turns back to Leonard. “Do you have any ideas or not?”

“God, no. We’ll have to play it by ear and hope for the best.”

“What happened to Mudd’s shuttle?”

“Took off without us, after he handed us over to the Aurelians.”

Jim calls Mudd several names, none of which Leonard would dare repeat in polite company.

Kirk runs a hand over his face. “Spock? Chekov?”

“Chekov made it back to the Enterprise. Spock—you know he’s tough to knock down but I’m dubious about that Aurelians have a miracle cure for stab wounds. We need to exercise caution until I can look him over properly in a real med bay.”

“If we can exercise caution,” Jim amends.

“Yeah, if we can,” Leonard agrees. “I don’t think you’ve been in contact with Scotty, so here’s what you need to know.” Leonard fills him in about the Governor’s scheme to fool the Federation and the Romulans.

Jim stays silent while he listens, hands on his hips, gaze focused on a far wall. When Leonard finishes his report, the man only says, “Makes sense.”

“Well, glad to know something makes sense to somebody. Frankly I think the Aurelians are off their collective rocker.”

“I wish I had the time to explain it to you, Bones.”

Leonard waves a dismissive hand. “No need. You lead, I follow, remember?”

Jim turns to him, then, with a mixed expression. “Is that how it works?”

“Uh-oh,” Leonard guesses, “is this the part where you ‘deal’ with me?”

“I don’t have time for that either, unfortunately.” Kirk vows, “But we will have words, Lieutenant-Commander.”

Leonard is planning to bring along brandy for that conversation. Jim’s temper always softens in the presence of a good bottle of brandy.

Kirk rubs his forehead, looking resigned to the fact that he has just forfeited his chance to deliver an effective reprimand as he adds, “Just don’t do it again.”

Leonard can’t make that promise and they both know it, so he reaches out to pat the man’s shoulder in lieu of agreeing. “At this point we ought to worry more about how to handle the group outside. There’s plenty of time to hash out personal conflict later.”

“Bring the expensive brandy.”

Leonard gives Jim’s shoulder a final pat. “You got it. Now for the difficult question: how do we explain things to Command? Or do we even try?”

“I’m not sure what’s necessary yet,” Jim admits, “except that I have an obligation to report something.”

“Let Spock figure it out. He’s good at circumvention.”

Jim looks sideways at the doctor. “Vulcans are known for being straightforward.”

Leonard raises his eyebrows. “Have you ever met a straightforward Vulcan?”

“Touché.” Jim turns for the door. “Speaking of Vulcans, let’s find out how ours is faring.” However, before Kirk goes too far, he pauses, glances back, studying Leonard critically from head to toe and concluding, “The beard has to go.”

Leonard brushes the side of his bristly jaw with his knuckles. “Why?”

Kirk lays a hand against his neck and says in a funny voice, “Beard rash,” before swiftly exiting the room.

“And I’m accused of being the illogical one,” Leonard mutters, shaking his head.

He follows Kirk back into the fray.

~~~

Shuffling behind his captain, head down, Leonard sneaks the occasional glance at the congregation of Aurelians and Romulans as he crosses the hangar. Off to the side of the main group, Spock stands with his arms folded, observing as instructed. Kirk and McCoy join him.

Jim mirrors the Vulcan’s stance. “Report, Mr. Spock.”

“There is little to report, Captain. The Romulans and Aurelians have reached a stalemate in negotiations.”

Leonard lifts his head. “Really? Why?”

Both Jim and Spock look at him. Leonard puts his head back down like a properly chastened subordinate. He mutters, “I’m a doctor, not an actor.”

“The Romulans have become suspicious since they learned their main ally, Lord Jorval, is unavailable to meet with them. They refuse to release the armaments and weaponry to the Consort. Apparently they have never dealt with him directly before now.”

“There’s the flaw in firing your cover story. Somebody should show them a picture of Jorval with a noose around his neck. Won’t that be entertaining?”

“Bones,” Jim warns him in a low tone.

Leonard sees no reason to apologize.

Spock turns to Kirk. “How much do the Romulans know, Jim?”

“As little as I could get away with saying once I transported to the freighter and handed myself over to their captain. They contacted the mothership, so to speak, shortly thereafter and I made a convincing case to the Romulan in charge that I had a vendetta against the Governor. He doesn’t believe me for the most part, but he is too tempted by the chance to secure the Enterprise to leave me in his brig.”

“…I see. And what was the nature of your vendetta?”

From the corner of his eye, Leonard notices Jim smile slightly.

“She stole my lovers, and Starfleet refused to help me get them back.”

The doctor chokes on his own spit.

“An interesting combination of truth and exaggeration. The Romulans may be willing to believe you now that they have seen us together. I recommend you use the opportunity to enlighten them further.”

“I intend to do that.” Kirk uncrosses his arms and strides forward, calling out the Romulan commander by name.

Spock goes with him, and for a second Leonard is left on his own, given the choice of whether or not to follow them. Staying here might be safer but staying behind means he would miss the action. Decided, he hurries to catch Spock, remembering at the last second to adopt a hang-dog expression as he also slinks up behind Jim.

The Romulan commander turns partly away from the Consort to watch their approach. He comments, “Your companion appears duly chastened. Have you decided to execute him, Captain Kirk?”

Leonard pictures punching the commander in the nose. It’s a very satisfying image.

“I will let him live,” Kirk replies. “After all, I’m turning over command of a flagship for his sake. I think I need to be repaid for that, don’t you?” He adopts a sly expression. “There is a second condition to my terms which I believe I failed to mention earlier.”

The Romulan only asks, “What is the condition?”

“How would a human fare in a Romulan fleet?”

“You wish to command one of our vessels?”

“I would hate to give up the lifestyle entirely.”

The Romulan looks uncannily like Spock for a moment when the Vulcan is considering all the nuances of a situation. “Captain Kirk,” he says, “you are very brave or you are very presumptuous. Either way, that makes you a fool. “

Kirk only continues to look at the commander slyly. “Somehow I doubt you have the authority to tell me no. Why don’t we discuss our options later?”

“Very well.”

Kirk nods in satisfaction and turns to the Governor’s husband. “I see no reason to cover for you anymore. Once the Romulans have control of my ship, they will want to know about the other Romulan onboard.”

The Romulan commander stiffens. “There is a Romulan on the Enterprise? Kirk, explain.”

Jim shrugs one shoulder. “He was your spy, Commander, but sadly he’s dead. The Aurelians killed him.”

That is the spark which lights the fire: the Romulans draw their weapons at the same time that the Aurelians unsheathe their swords.

Maybe, Leonard decides, he doesn’t want to be this close to the action after all.

The Consort croons to Kirk, “Well played, Captain.”

But Jim raises his hands and speaks quickly. “Gentlemen, before you declare war I have a suggestion to make. Why don’t we meet with the Governor to settle the matter?”

The Consort, having chosen the phaser instead of his saber, aims the weapon at Jim.

Spock steps forward to cover Jim, as does Leonard.

If looks could kill, he thinks, Jim-boy would already be dead.

Kirk is one to thrive in threatening situations and, even with his hands raised in placation, is obviously in complete control. “It’s the Governor who owns these men, Commander. It has always been the Governor, which is why a plot to overthrow her was doomed to fail from the beginning. But I know something of her kind, and I think the Empire might find her more amendable to a chat than originally assumed… if you approach her diplomatically.”

The Consort’s expression shutters.

Leonard thinks, Careful, Jim, careful.

Jim lifts his chin. “What is your opinion, Your Lordship? Can the Governor accommodate the Romulans?”

“If the incentive is sufficient.”

“Then I shall speak to your Governor,” the Romulan commander declares. “But heed this warning, all of you: more than one thousand arms are on my ship, along with men to deploy them at my command. If I cannot secure Aurelis for the Empire, I will destroy it.” He shifts his gaze to the humans in the group. “That includes anyone who stands in my way.”

“Understood,” notes Kirk.

The Consort orders his officers to lower their swords. He himself acts more slowly, tucking away his stolen phaser into the front of his belt.

Jim lowers his hands and watches the Aurelians and Romulans organize themselves.

Leonard leans toward him, wanting to know, “Is this a good idea?”

“What choice do we have but to beat them at their own game?” Jim replies.

Spock says, “I would tend to agree.”

The doctor points at the armed Aurelian guards headed their way and says, “Then let’s hope they are taking us back to the party.”

~~~

Leonard turns in a full circle, observing his new and yet terribly familiar surroundings with unease. “So, back where we started. I guess there’s some irony to be found in that.”

At the balcony’s open door, Kirk stands unnaturally still, his back to the room and the occupants in it. He hasn’t offered a comment since he, Spock, and McCoy were locked inside the study.

Leonard hates that he can’t discern what Jim is thinking, and so he tries again. “What do you think is happening right now?”

Turning away from his commune with Kirk’s back, Spock comments, “I doubt we will be required to wait indefinitely to find out, Doctor. We are, you might say, a loose end.”

“That’s not comforting, Spock.”

“The truth is rarely comforting.”

Before Leonard can think of some witty comeback to that, Jim breaks in, “I can see the stars.”

Spock and Leonard turn as one towards their captain.

Jim points to the sky. “The Dome doesn’t block out the stars. It used to.” He turns around. “This waiting is the part I could do without.”

Jim never has enjoyed waiting but that isn’t why he looks so somber, thinks Leonard. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what, Bones?”

“What’s bothering you.”

Kirk is only silent for a second. “Did I do the right thing?”

“You did what was logical,” Spock answers.

Leonard nods. “What he said.”

Kirk observes much too seriously, “If the two of you are in agreement, then I have something to worry about.”

Spock unlocks his hands from behind his back. “Captain, if your purpose in asking our opinions is to determine the extent to which we condemn you for your actions, you will find no such judgment from Dr. McCoy or myself. You have prevented the Aurelians from starting a war. You have potentially saved hundreds of lives.”

“At what cost, Spock? The Romulans? Their lives?”

“That sin would fall on the Aurelians, not you,” Leonard points out. “Look, Jim, sometimes the best we can do under the circumstances seems like a poor substitute for what we consider to be right, but there is some justice at work here. Like Spock said, you’ve forced the Aurelians to deal with their problems directly. The Governor will likely still betray the Romulans, but at least you gave the Romulans a chance to see the knife being directed at them. That’s more than they might have done for us.”

Jim looks away. “I’ve always thought that the responsibility for the safety of four hundred lives is worth the price of being a starship captain. This… this is too much. I don’t want this.”

“Then don’t try to carry the galaxy on your shoulders,” Leonard tells him. “Nobody has asked you to.”

“If I don’t, who will?”

Leonard has been aware of this fear of Kirk’s for a long, long time. He suspects it stems from the trauma of Tarsus IV, but knowing why is a far cry from a cure and even now he isn’t certain how to challenge Jim and give him a clearer perspective. He can only try to temper Kirk’s burden by offering his help.

And that’s what he does now by moving to the man and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re not alone, Jim.”

Jim nods. “As long as I’m not alone…”

But, as usual, Jim never finishes that statement. One day Leonard will ask Jim what he thinks would happen if they are not with him.

Deciding now is the time to confess, probably the only chance he has left, he draws a quick breath.

“Jim, there’s something I want to tell you but it’s going to sound awful.”

The distance fades from Jim’s eyes. “You can tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything about overhearing Jorval and Connors at the party.”

Kirk shifts under his hand, not pulling away, but turning to face him more fully with a questioning look. Leonard’s admission has startled him.

Leonard lets his hand slide off his captain’s shoulder. “At first I was, but I had changed my mind. It was only when Jorval came after me that I realized it was risky to keep it to myself.” He hates to put it like that because it makes him sound like a coward but the truth, as Spock had said, can be uncomfortable.

In this case, it’s downright unpleasant. He thinks about how bad the sabotage could have been if he had said nothing, pretended to know nothing. At the end of the evening, they would have lost everything to the Aurelians and never known why. He feels ashamed.

He isn’t aware of Spock having circled around him until the Vulcan is standing side by side with Kirk.

Spock asks him the simplest question of all: “Why?”

Why, indeed. In that moment the reason becomes clear to Leonard, and it is with deep regret that he confesses to jealousy.

The confession brings a tilt to Spock’s head and prompts a command of “Explain” from Kirk.

There are too many aspects to consider, too many unspoken feelings, too many caveats that could affect their future. Leonard cannot simply say, You don’t care for me the way you care for each other and that hurts because I care about you. If he did something that foolish, he might as well resign his commission a second time.

So he settles for pointing out what they might not know about each other.

“Spock is your most trusted officer.”

Jim’s gaze sharpens, scans Leonard’s face for other clues.

A hint of a drawl comes into the doctor’s voice as he turns to the Vulcan. “And, Spock… Did you know that when you were in the Governor’s hands, Jim practically begged me to yell at him for considering a command decision that would put you at further risk? Begged.”

“Bones.“

Leonard touches his bottom lip. “So I guess you could say I’m a little jealous of how close you two are to each other. It’s not… an unnatural response, since we’re all friends. But I shouldn’t have let my jealousy take precedence over my duty as a Starfleet officer.”

“I fail to understand why you are concerned with a possibility which in the end was avoided anyway.”

It’s the type of response phrased just perfectly to scrape at Leonard’s temper. His blue eyes flash at Spock. “I’m trying to apologize, you pointy-eared computer.”

“As usual, Doctor, you concern yourself with what is irrelevant and ignore the practicalities.”

“Sorry not all of us can condense our emotions to decimals!”

“Enough,” Jim interrupts. “Spock, there is validity to McCoy’s concern—but I know you, Bones, and I trust that you would have come to me.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I can,” Kirk says solemnly, “because Spock isn’t my only most trusted officer.”

“Quite so,” murmurs Spock.

Leonard looks from one to the other and realizes they aren’t simply trying to make him feel better. “You knuckleheads,” he says fondly.

“There is no need to be insulting, Doctor.”

“Hobgoblin.”

“More acceptable.”

With warmth in his eyes, Kirk takes hold of Spock and McCoy’s respective shoulders and gives them a brief squeeze.

Spock ends the moment by asking for Leonard’s medical tricorder.

“What for?” Leonard questions, handing it to the Vulcan.

Spock wanders to the glossy-topped desk positioned in front of the window overlooking the balcony. “It is possible to use the tricorder as a communication device. I did not suggest it earlier because the re-programming of the function-based algorithms would take time we did not have.” He begins to peel the back off the tricorder and places it on the desk.

Leonard makes a face. “If you break it, what am I supposed to scan you with?”

“I assumed you would be content to utilize the archaic methods of examination which other medical professionals discarded centuries ago.”

Leonard turns to Jim. “Now he’s just being rude.”

Jim leans a hip against the desk. “How long will it take you, Spock?”

“One hour at most, if Dr. McCoy does not distract me.”

“Bones, don’t distract Spock.”

“My god, I was better off in the company of the Aurelians. At least they baited me less.”

“Who baits whom is a matter of opinion, Doctor.”

Leonard takes a seat at the desk, ignoring that remark.

Several minutes pass in silence. Then Spock asks, “Have you and the Captain resolved your differences?”

The question almost seems idle, except that Spock is not one to make idle conversation while he’s focused on another task.

Leonard shares a look with Jim over Spock’s shoulder.

Jim mouthes, No idea, but then a hint of mischief comes into his eyes. “Not quite. I’m undecided about reinstating McCoy’s commission.”

The Vulcan drops the tricorder.

Leonard holds his breath for half a second before he bursts into laughter. Kirk smiles.

Spock stares at the tricorder on the floor like he cannot figure out how it ended up down there.

“That was a joke, Spock,” Leonard says, trying to talk, breathe, and quell his laughter all at the same time.

“I really was joking,” Jim admits.

Spock stares at the tricorder for a moment longer before stooping down to pick it up. “Gentlemen,” he says once he straightens up, “there is no humor to be found in such a remark.”

“Apparently not,” soothes Leonard, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his thighs. “I guess it upsets you that I might leave. I’m touched, Spock.”

“Naturally you are reading more into a sequence of events than is logical, Dr. McCoy. The tricorder merely… slipped.”

“Do you want another hug?”

“Negative,” the Vulcan replies, moving back to put a significant distance between them. “Captain, if you would assist me by removing the telecom built into the desk, I estimate we can shorten the conversion time by forty-three point six-four percent if we sync the computer hardware.”

While Spock tries to restore his Vulcan dignity, Leonard wraps his hands around his knee and thinks on how much he enjoys seeing Spock so ruffled, just as he enjoys the idea that Spock is affected by the thought of losing him as the CMO.

Heart warmed, he waits until Jim and Spock are occupied with piecing together the two technologies before he rises from his chair and approaches them in the sitting area of the study. There, he leans forward as though interested in observing their work from over their shoulders.

Jim turns his head to Leonard and, still smiling faintly, asks, “Want to help?”

“Just tell me what to do,” Leonard replies, returning the smile.

Spock sighs the tiniest bit through his nose. “Take a seat, Doctor.”

~~~

“Is it working?”

“Not since you last inquired forty seconds ago.” Spock’s tone is clipped in a way that means his patience with Leonard has nearly run out.

Twenty minutes into the hour, Jim had given up on trying to mediate between them and sprawled in a wing-backed chair to take a nap. Leonard has considered taking tiny pieces of his tricorder left over from Spock’s science project and pinging them off Kirk’s head to see how far they bounce, but at one point when he started to try it, the blasted Vulcan plucked the plastic clip from his fingers and set it out of his reach.

Leonard still isn’t sure how Spock knew what he was up to.

Bored again, he asks, “Is it working yet?”

Spock ceases what he is doing to give Leonard the brunt of a Vulcan glare.

“The answer must be no.” He reminds the Vulcan, “If it doesn’t work, you’ve destroyed a perfectly functional medical tricorder.”

Jim opens his eyes. “Bones.”

“What?”

“If Spock knocks you out, I’m not carrying your unconscious body back to the Enterprise.”

“Spock wouldn’t dare touch me.”

But the odd glitter in the Vulcan’s eyes insinuates that Leonard could be wrong. Just to be safe, Leonard scoots back towards Jim’s chair.

Jim sighs and closes his eyes again.

Leonard watches Spock slowly sift through a pile of mechanical parts and wires scavenged from various electronic devices around the study and decides he can let Spock work in peace for a few minutes.

Minutes turn into another half-hour. Leonard starts to doze, startles himself awake when he realizes he hasn’t actually slept in nearly twenty-four hours, then dozes off again.

He wakes to a hand on his shoulder, Jim’s, urging him to get up. He sees why.

The Governor and her Consort have arrived. The latter releases the arm of his wife and moves toward them.

Leonard glances guiltily at Spock’s work table but finds it cleared of any evidence of their tinkering.

“We apologize for keeping you waiting,” the Aurelian says. “We had to attend to our other guests.”

“And how did those guests fare?” Jim questions politely, his face impassive.

The Governor walks around the desk and takes a seat. “Do you like games, Captain?”

“That depends on the nature of the game and my opponent.”

The Governor leans back in her chair, crosses her legs, and steeples her fingers. “What did you seek to win tonight?”

Jim places his hand on top of the chair he had been resting in earlier. “A fair chance.”

“Hm.” The Governor transfers her gaze to Leonard, then dismisses him altogether to study Spock. “May I see what you have been working on?”

No one in the room moves.

“No?” inquires the Governor. “Very well, then. Husband, show Captain Kirk how we respond to a lack of cooperation.”

Leonard swallows hard as the Consort takes the phaser from his belt and flicks it on.

“That’s enough,” he protests. “We get it.”

“No, you do not understand the stakes of this game, Dr. McCoy. I would prefer that you did. The Vulcan, Husband.”

Instantly Jim and Leonard shift to form a shield in front of Spock.

The Governor’s eyes glitter. “If not the Vulcan, then the human healer.”

Jim grabs Leonard’s arm and forces Leonard to stand in between him and Spock.

Delighted, she laughs. “There now,” the Aurelian says, uncoiling from her chair and coming to her feet in one fluid motion, “you do have some understanding.” She lowers her husband’s phaser arm. “The device,” she commands.

Spock removes one hand from behind his back and silently offers up their communicator.

But the Governor doesn’t take it. “What does it do?” she inquires.

“At the moment, nothing. It is not functional.”

“What was its intended purpose?”

“To contact the Enterprise.”

“Ah. I was hoping you had been foolish enough to build a weapon I might use against you. No matter. If it’s your ship that you so desperately wish to contact, then I am not opposed to granting this small favor.”

“In exchange for what?” Kirk demands.

“There is no exchange, Captain. I am in a position to be generous because you have been generous to me.” She smiles. “Your officers gave me Jorval, and you offered me a fine Romulan commander. A trio of deaths has been achieved. I am pleased.”

Jim inhales the tiniest bit, and Leonard feels the news like a punch to his gut.

He never wants to see these people again, but he’s terribly afraid they will be haunting him for a long time.

“Then what is your purpose in keeping us confined here?” It is Spock who gives voice to the next logical thought regardless of the emotional impact, who refuses to let them linger on what might overwhelm them.

The Governor places her hand on the Consort’s shoulder. “There will be a celebration soon. You should be honored for your part.”

“Honored?” Jim repeats, the word forced. “Honor implies an act of worthiness by a willing participant. There is no honor in being manipulated by you.”

“If I cannot honor you, then I must forsake you.”

“Not unless we forsake you first.”

Jim seems to have said something she wanted to hear because the Governor nods her head. “So it shall be, Kirk.” She removes a small device from a pouch attached to her sword belt and tosses it to the floor at their feet. “Call your ship,” she challenges them. “Tell them we will open the transportation channel within the hour and they must retrieve you or you will never be seen again.”

“You’re letting us go? Why?”

“Why not, Doctor? The party is ending. My guests wish to go home.” She tilts her head. “And what could possibly have transpired here that you could accuse me of and be believed?”

With that final remark, the Governor turns on her heel and exits the study. Her husband offers them a formal bow before he silently follows in her wake.

Leonard retrieves the communicator from the floor because Jim makes no move to pick up. Wordlessly he hands it to Spock. Then he looks in the direction that the Governor had gone, and something uncontrollable takes hold of him.

He’s running for the door before he thinks twice about it.

Behind Leonard, Jim calls his name, voice sharp.

Swinging into the corridor, Leonard cries after the Aurelians, “What kind of monsters are you?!”

The pair pauses at the end of the hall. The Governor turns back to look at him.

A hand grabs Leonard’s arm, hard enough to bruise. “Bones.”

“I’ve had enough,” he tells Kirk angrily, trying to pry open the man’s grip.

“Let it go, McCoy.”

“With all due respect, Captain, I resigned. I don’t have to follow your orders.”

Finally succeeding in freeing himself, Leonard stalks towards the Aurelians, thinking that even if it’s the last thing he does, he is going to give them a piece of his mind.

Next Part

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• Drink One For Me (4/6) – from April 23, 2015
• Drink One For Me (3/5) – from April 10, 2015
• Drink One For Me (2/4) – from April 6, 2015

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