Title: The Elder and the Young (7/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Spock!Prime
Summary: Final part of a trilogy; follows The Boy and the Sea Dragon and The Man and the Memory. Jim’s soul is caged, McCoy is dying without a cure, and Spock has hijacked the Enterprise in an attempt to save them both.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Part Seven

It turns out that Spock didn’t have a bad idea after all. McCoy is a charmer when he wants to be, the Southern gentleman in him generally looked kindly upon by most females in the galaxy. He waits until the guards come in to see why the off-worlders are hollering and making such loud noises that are unbecoming of guests—particularly unwanted, barely tolerated guests such as the men from space.

Isn’t it convenient that Sulu knocks McCoy flat on his back the moment that the grim-faced Fabrini enter the room?

The High Priestess is not far behind, which tells Leonard that either she stays in close quarters (which he finds unlikely) or the Oracle Room where she prays and receives her instructions for the people is nearby. He hopes that the latter is true; his plan works better with that assumption.

“What is the meaning of this… behavior?” Natira looks like she wants to ask why they are acting like wild men but cannot find a suitable word to describe the atrocity of their actions.

As McCoy tries to crawl away from the enraged Sulu, one of the security officers drags him to his feet by the collar of his shirt and shakes him like a dog. “Traitor!” cries the young man.

Leonard cringes and tries to explain, “But we’re in the wrong!”

The Fabrini watch with interest as Leonard is shoved backwards into the other security officer and Sulu steps in close to block McCoy’s escape from another direction. Just as Sulu is about to land a blow, fist raised, Natira tells her guards to “Stop this foolishness.”

The doctor and friend in McCoy winces as his comrades are easily subdued with the blunt ends of the staffs the guards carry. He is thankful that none of the three take their game too far and challenge the Fabrini, as the officers really would if they didn’t have a goal in mind.

McCoy says gratefully “Thank you” to the High Priestess. She steps up to him and touches the swelling along his jaw.

“Why do your men abuse you?” she asks, dropping her hand and looking at him intently.

“‘Cause they’re damn fools, that’s why!” he says harshly. “We shouldn’t have come down here…”

Sulu picks up his cue. “That isn’t your call, McCoy! Mr. Spock—”

“Well look at your captain now,” McCoy retorts, gesturing at the oblivious Vulcan. “See what happens when you mess where you shouldn’t—”

“Mr. Spock will have your head once he hears about this! Then it’ll be the end of your career in the ‘Fleet,” spits the pilot. Leonard didn’t know Sulu could look that cruelly pleased. He’ll have to remember to ask Hikaru if he’s ever considered ditching Starfleet to become an actor.

Natira says slowly, “There is ill will between you. You must be separated until your leader awakens; to spill blood on the world of Yonada is a grave offense. McCoy, a guard will escort you—”

“No!”

Her eyes narrow. “You wish to keep company with men who would kill you?”

“I’m a doctor,” Leonard tells her. “A healer. I cannot leave Spock with these idiots.” He glares at Sulu and the two men. “They don’t know the first thing about caring for the sick.”

The High Priestess considers the unconscious Vulcan for a moment. “It is said that your leader will not be pleased with you, yet you would stay to care for him.” There is something unreadable in Natira’s eyes. “You are a strange man, McCoy. You may remain as healer for this… Spock.” She gestures to her guards who nod in response and drag Sulu and the others from the room.

Score one for Team Enterprise, Leonard thinks.

He sighs and makes a show of wincing (damn, Sulu really does have a solid punch) as he settles onto a raised futon opposite of Spock.

A female Fabrini appears some minutes later and Natira takes a tray from her. The girl bows and leaves them alone. Leonard holds very still as she sits next to him and applies a strong smelling cloth to the side of his face. “This will ease your pain,” she explains.

He mutters his thanks, already wondering what sort of salve the cloth is soaked with—because, damn, if his pain isn’t gone! If this treatment is in the medical banks as well, Leonard is going feel like a young, excitable doctor again, presented with new techniques to explore and medical papers to write.

Then McCoy realizes that Natira’s heavily painted eyes are watching him. He thanks her and purposefully places his hand over hers with a smile. That startles her and the woman pulls her hand away. Leonard is forced to hold the poultice to his jaw.

She rises gracefully and turns her back to him. Nevertheless, her voice rings clear. “From your earlier words, I would not have thought you capable of understanding our laws. I see now that you were distressed by the state of your leader. This is forgivable.” Natira looks at him then. “It is also… pleasing to me.”

Leonard is racking up the points now and feels terribly bad about his deception.

“I won’t say that I agree with your Oracle’s punishments—but I do realize we are on your world, taking advantage of your good will for… well, for things that aren’t ours to have.”

“What things?” asks the High Priestess sharply.

“We want to know what your Oracle knows.”

She inclines her head. “Indeed, the Oracle’s wisdom is boundless, but only I am chosen by the Oracle to pass on its knowledge. It seeks to protect my people. You—” she says somewhat gently, “—are not one of us. Your request cannot be granted.”

“I’m afraid that my people aren’t as passive as yours, High Priestess.”

“Natira,” she interrupts.

He reaches out for her hand, a silent request. The woman allows his touch. Leonard drawls slowly, sweetly, “Natira,” and places a kiss on the back of her hand.

Then McCoy finishes his warning. “Spock will try to take the knowledge by force.” That is actually a fair bit of the truth. Leonard sighs internally.

Natira’s face is serious as she tells him, “Then it will be necessary to protect ourselves. Do you accept this?”

He asks plaintively, “Please don’t hurt them. Perhaps if I can persuade the others that the Oracle’s information is useless, we can be on our way without anyone coming to harm. Don’t you think that’s best?”

“Yes. In this matter, I agree, McCoy.”

“Leonard.”

She stares at him.

His grin is genuine. “If I can use your name, Natira, then you can use mine. I am Leonard McCoy. Call me Leonard. I’d like that.”

“Leonard.” Natira tests his name carefully. Then she seems to realize that her hand is still in his and reluctantly lets go of him.

Oh Lord. He’s going to the pits of intergalactic Hell for this charade. Think of the cure, McCoy, he tells himself. Think of the millions of people that can be saved by what you can accomplish here.

Think of Jim.

“Natira,” he says carefully, “I want to help. Won’t you let me?”

“What proof must you have… to convince your leader?”

“Let me ask a question of the Oracle.” At her look, he assures, “Just one question. I will record the Oracle’s answer with this device.” He holds up his tricorder.

She touches it lightly, in awe. “I have not seen an object such as this. You say that it… records? What does this mean?”

These people are so innocent—it’s almost ironic that they live inside such an intricate piece of technology.

“Everything that the Oracle says will be stored here—” He taps the hard metal shell of his tricorder. “—and Spock will be able to know the answer without going to the altar himself.”

“I understand.” She nods. “Very well. I will take you to the Oracle, Leonard.”

He drops the poultice to the side. “Wonderful.” Upon standing, he crooks his arm. “May I escort you, Natira?”

This time she does not hesitate. “Yes. We must hurry, for I fear that your leader’s condition shall not last much longer.”

Oh yeah. Spock’s going to be thrilled to find himself all alone and the other men trussed up by the Fabrini for misbehavior. Most of all, Spock will be a touch annoyed to learn that McCoy has concocted and implemented a Plan B.

Vulcans are very wary of Plan B’s.

So. This is the great Oracle Room. He watches as Natira falls to her knees on a center platform and bows her head. The room lightens as the ship’s sensors are activated by Natira’s actions.

The idea of worshiping the Creators is so farcical that Leonard has to bite his tongue. Old Spock explained the beliefs of the Fabrini and what their ancestors hoped to accomplish by controlling their descendents. It is idyllic—but it is also cruel.

A man weds a woman chosen by the Oracle; the only exception is the High Priestess, who may choose her mate. This rule’s ‘higher purpose’ equates to little more than genetic selection to keep the race thriving. Then factor in that they are kept mentally stagnant—their minds dulled by the threat of agony—to prevent questions that may, in time, jeopardize the mission of Yonada. Simply put, a long-dead council of beings labeled themselves gods and re-invented their race of people to believe that truth for generations upon generations—and with no guarantee that Yonada would ever reach its new world.

The repercussions of Yonada‘s failure seem horrific to a man like McCoy. What would happen to these people should they fall prey to an invasion by Klingons patrolling through space? Or worse, by a band of slave traders, who would pick and pull at Yonada‘s defenses like vultures until the ship splits apart and the Fabrini are forfeit?

McCoy grimaces and gets down on the floor behind the High Priestess, his kneecaps protesting the full impact of his weight. He keeps his head high, unwilling to supplicate further to a computer driven by a selfish ideal.

“Speak,” says the Oracle.

The High Priestess says, “It is I, Natira.”

“Yes, Natira?”

“I am not alone—I have with me one of the strangers. He wishes to ask a question of you.”

There is a silence. McCoy wonders how long it takes this massive thing to run its algorithms and determine a true or false to that request.

“Proceed.”

At least he is not going to be zapped right away. The man clears his throat. “I am McCoy. I mean no harm to Yonada.” It seems appropriate to state that beforehand. “My question is this…”

He takes a deep breath to steel himself. In his mind’s eye is a Vulcan with fiercely frowning eyebrows and a harsh reprimand ready for voicing.

Spock is seriously going to be pissed.

“Can I access your computer banks for a quick second?” He tacks on hurriedly, “I’m dying and in urgent need of a cure.”

Cue the roll of thunder of an angry computer god. The Oracle booms, “Your words are forbidden!”

McCoy is in the perfect position to lean over to Natira and say, as the Oracle calls for his immediate death, “Sorry about this, sweetheart. Up you go.” He pulls her from the platform, locking her arms so that she can’t claw his face—the woman looks like she is considering it—and hauls her bodily over to the main panel of the Oracle.

The Oracle seems confused, because Natira is a loyal subject and it can’t zap McCoy without zapping her too. McCoy prays to whatever real deity seems to like his plan and shouts, “I’m really need that cure, you stupid machine.”

The Oracle rages “Blasphemy!” and “You must be destroyed!” so McCoy simply slaps the large, furiously blinking light of the Oracle and it cuts off like the premature end to a recording.

The would-be Oracle, now a simple disabled mechanical covering, slides back to reveal the entry to the ship’s controls. Spock, bless his logic-loving heart, went for the ship’s manual, uncertain if this universe’s Yonada would be wired similarly to the Yonada of Old Spock’s universe. Leonard, on the other hand, believes in leaps of faith and his Grandmammy’s saying ‘time’s too short to fiddle about.’

He releases his hold on Natira. She cries, “What have you done!”

McCoy tells her, “I don’t have time to explain everything, but this—” The doctor indicates the opening. “—is where all the answers to the questions you’ve wanted to ask are hidden.”

She looks from him to the small doorway. “It cannot be.”

He sighs. “It is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”

The doors to the Oracle Room slide open without warning. Spock, with Sulu and the two security officers behind him, takes three steps inside the room, sees Leonard, and pauses. The phaser in his hand lowers at a snail’s pace, as if the Acting Captain doesn’t quite believe the lack of torture, danger, or dying.

“Doctor…”

McCoy lifts an eyebrow. “Hiya, Spock. I hope you brought that big brain you’re always bragging about. We’ve got a hell of a lot of data to collect.”

With those words, Leonard climbs into the main control room of the ship Yonada. He then turns around and waits rather triumphantly for Spock to follow.

The Vulcan does not disappoint. Spock stares at the bright, multi-colored lights of the ship’s computer before slowly facing Doctor McCoy.

Leonard speaks first. “Think carefully about your next words, Mr. Spock. They’d better be along the lines of ‘You are a brave, fearless, and exemplary Human, Leonard McCoy.'”

Spock pulls out his tricorder and says, as he calmly adjusts the device, “I suspect, were I to indulge your ego as you wish, Doctor, the result would be… ‘hard to live with.'”

He laughs. “Who taught you that phrase, Spock? Jim?”

“Negative.” Spock flicks a glance at McCoy. “It was my counterpart who explained the sentiment when I inquired after his use of the colloquialism.”

Leonard pretends not to notice the wide-eyed Natira peering through the gap in the Oracle Room. Her face is a mixture of wonder and horror. McCoy’s only consolation for destroying the world as she knew it is that she will no longer care for her people in ignorance.

Then Spock reclaims his attention with the announcement “The cure for xenopolycythemia is here.”

He closes his eyes in relief. “Thank you, God.”

“No,” corrects his friend solemnly. “The ‘thank you’ belongs solely to you, Doctor.”

Finally daring to take that first step through the opening, the High Priestess wants to know, “You say there is knowledge here. Is it… of the Creators?”

“Yes,” replies McCoy, opening his eyes. “It is the key to a truth that you, Natira, need to know.” He swallows because this is supposed to be Jim’s job. “If you promise to listen, I will tell you that truth.”

She considers him. Then, with a graveness that Leonard can respect, “I will listen, Leonard McCoy.”

He leaves Spock to the task of copying the medical banks of the Fabrini and gently takes Natira’s hand, squeezes it.

“A long, long time ago, there was a race called the Fabrini and they lived near a star…”

Next Part

Related Posts:

• The Elder and the Young (12/12) – from February 24, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (11/12) – from February 23, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (10/11) – from February 21, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (9/11) – from February 11, 2011
• The Elder and the Young (8/?) – from February 7, 2011