Title: What We Feel (7/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: Spock asks Jim and Leonard to consider their future together.
Previous Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
Or read at AO3

Sorry. My brain refused to focus on this story for a few days.

Part Seven

Leonard has had better ideas. Three mean-looking beings with two-fingered hands, a weirdly natural armor, and curled horns (reminiscent of devils, he muses, minus the hooves) are clearly arguing. One of them gestures at McCoy and makes a chopping motion. Yes, the Senior Medical Officer has concocted smarter plans than this. Then again, if by locking himself in with these bastards prevents slaughter, McCoy is certain that he made the right decision.

It starts with Leonard being tossed out of his office chair without warning. It is early into gamma shift, and he hasn’t been able to sleep. So the doctor is slowly wading through a stack of paperwork at the time of the attack, a rather obvious ploy to keep his mind distracted from musing on Vulcan stubbornness.

Nothing spices up a miserable atmosphere like a space battle.

The small medical staff splits into teams—one to stay in the med bay and handle cases which trickle in; the other are response teams to answer medical emergencies in other areas of the ship. McCoy and a nurse on duty head out to the transporter room. While they can’t be faulted for doing their jobs, McCoy takes that one step inside that room, hairs on the back of his neck rising at the eerie silence, and thinks damn it, we aren’t prepared for this.

Of course, a second and third step reveal a strange creature pointing a phaser at them and its two companions lying in wait on either side of the entrance. Leonard spies the arms of prone Starfleet officer behind the console, snaps out of his shock, and blocks out the danger. The nurse follows him. The man is unconscious from a phaser stun, and he has a bad burn on one arm which needs to be treated.

The nearest unknown being prods the nurse, who holds her strip of gauze in front of her defensively, to gain their attention. It announces somewhat stiltedly, “You have Captain. Take us to Captain.”

Now, McCoy generally leaves the fighting to Security (and Jim) and opts to negotiate himself out of a sticky situation. Failing that, he resorts to profane name-calling. Leonard is on the name-calling bit by the time the three buffoons realize the very angry human has no intentions of escorting them to the mysterious captain of the ship.

A steady hand levels the stolen phaser on McCoy for a heartbeat before shifting to stun the nurse. She crumples and Leonard, a curse on his lips, cradles her head. He has to make a hard choice then. It is either to do what they ask or outsmart them and somehow warn Jim and Spock that the Enterprise has been breached.

Leonard, as the First Officer would verify readily, is foolhardy most of the time, leading with his heart and not his head. His eyes linger on the communication unit built into the transporter console and an idea takes root. Yet, how can he find an opportunity to sound an alarm? Without doubt the doctor will be killed instantly if he attempts that, especially if he succeeds. These invaders want to surprise Jim on the Bridge and forcibly overtake the ship—Leonard would bet his eyeteeth on that. On the other hand, were Leonard to alert Security and the beings escape into the ship, the Enterprise is large that it would take too long to find them. The amount of damage that could be done in that time…

A voice too reminiscent of his grandmother from years ago chides Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, Leonard.

Right now there is little chance he can do anything at all—

The ship rocks, like a Godsend, and Leonard’s brain stops thinking as his body reacts on instinct. The three invaders yell, two of them pitched across the floor. McCoy throws himself past the other one, knocking it off-balance in passing as he strives to reach the communication panel. In an instant decision, the man barks into the speaker, “Sickbay, McCoy here. Evacuate immediately!”

Someone responds, shocked, “Sir…”

“Evacuate!“

The Enterprise has quieted, and a strong hand grabs the back of his tunic, hauling Leonard away from the console. The doctor is delivered such a forceful blow to the face that he hears the bone crack in his nose.

“What is Sickbay?” demands the leader as he shakes McCoy like a child’s rattle.

He gasps out, “My department—told ’em not to follow us down here. I can’t—” he half-lies wildly, “—let you hurt them too.”

Narrow eyes regard him. Then, “No more tricks. Lead us to Captain.”

Leonard fights to ignore the slide of blood down his throat. “A’right. I’ll take you to the Captain.”

The other two have recovered, and Leonard is forced to walk in the middle. He doesn’t bother to keep a hand to his nose, knowing that the nosebleed cannot be stemmed unless he has the proper tools or it clots on its own.

Because McCoy is a man who hates to be pushed around (and because he is a doctor sworn to do no harm, including the prevention of harm), he pretends to take the three bastards to the Bridge. To his advantage, they don’t have a damn clue which way is up or down. Imagine their surprise when Leonard pauses outside a set of doors, hesitating dramatically enough that they rush past him into Sickbay, prepared to fight a room of Starfleet officers and beat down a captain.

Well, McCoy’s plan differs drastically.

He uses the opportunity of their confusion to command Sickbay to initiate a bio-hazard quarantine. To say they are surprised to discover they can’t get out is a mild description. Unfortunately for McCoy, there is no one besides him to take the brunt of their anger. It’s a damn good thing, he decides, that there is nearby equipment to patch his body back together.

An overhead Sickbay speaker shrieks (on the heels of a violent blow to Leonard’s side) “Captain to Sickbay! Sickbay, report!” in Jim’s voice. McCoy doesn’t have the breath to answer. All Leonard can do is close his eyes. A fleeting pang of regret reminds the man that he may never see Jim or Spock again. Then it is gone, lost in the sharp sensation of pain.

~~~
before…

“Well either choke me or cut my throat. Make up your mind.”

Leonard rarely feels this calm, this in control—especially when one of his own scalpels is pressed against his skin and an incredibly strong hand squeezes his throat.

Newly awoken patients must be handled with care; Leonard always talks to them with gentleness, trying to quiet their nerves. He has had his share of hostile patients too, but there is something in this man’s eyes that tells McCoy fear is not what drives the patient to threaten him. And it won’t be fear that drives a killing blow.

He is asked a question, the typical question of any person who discovers he is not where he last remembered. When Leonard begins to answer, a hint of authority rising in his voice, that hand around his throat tightens in warning.

So he says more softly but with no less steel, “You’re in bed holding a knife to your doctor’s throat.” Leonard is warned a second time but he ignores it. “It would be most effective if you cut the carotid artery just under the left ear.”

Leonard knows that men like this one only respect a certain kind of response, and that knowledge—and the challenge he issues—pays off. The doctor is released.

The man’s name is Khan. McCoy, having experienced firsthand that Khan is dangerous, watches with growing trepidation as the formal dinner progresses. There are hard men in this room, not just Khan but Jim too. Khan calls Kirk out early on.

“You are an excellent tactician, Captain. You let your second-in-command attack while you sit and watch for weakness.”

Leonard has never seen Jim so taut. He wonders if it is the captain’s instinctive response to a man like Khan which brings out the coldness in Jim’s measured stare. Then Jim jumps into the conversation head-first and Leonard is surprised by the strong conviction in his friend’s voice. Jim’s questions drive Khan to reveal himself almost instantly. Everyone at the dinner table is given a preview of the man’s temper.

“…we offered the world order!”

If the blood in Leonard’s veins could run cold, it would now.

Khan looks at Captain Kirk and murmurs appreciatively, “Excellent, excellent.”

His commendation of Jim’s strategy tells McCoy all he needs to know. Khan needs a worthy enemy to fight, and he has found such in Kirk.

“If any of you joins me—anyone—I will let him live.”

It takes all of Leonard’s willpower to keep silent. He is not only a doctor but a personal friend of the Captain’s. He doesn’t want Jim to die.

He also doesn’t want to betray Jim’s wishes, and Leonard McCoy is aware of what those wishes would be. Jim would fight to his last breath against a dictator like Khan—and so must Jim’s crew.

No one moves, no one says a word.

Their captor is infuriated. “It’s so useless!”

Not useless, McCoy thinks. The defiance of the Enterprise crew is their last hope and would be Jim’s dying wish. He pushes past pain to say a short prayer for Jim Kirk. Instead of a prayer, as he had intended, it comes out as a silent Damn it, Jim, I won’t let you down—and you had better not die and let me down either.

~~~

What have you done, Bones?

Jim knows fear, knows it well. He is strong enough, however, to keep that fear out of his voice when Security circles behind him outside the Sickbay doors.

Kirk calls to the Bridge. “Status, Mr. Spock.”

“Two persons found stunned in the transporter room, Captain. Dr. McCoy called in an evacuation of the medical bay before bio-hazard protocol was engaged. The medical staff and patients have relocated to the zero-nine sector of the ship. Dr. M’Benga is now in charge and reports that all personnel accounted for, excluding the Chief Medical Officer.”

“Have we identified who is locked in Sickbay with McCoy?”

“Negative. The computer is unable to match the bio-signatures with any known species in its database. There are, however, several possibilities of identity that Starfleet records would not contain due to a dearth of knowledge about the races only recently contacted.”

“I need to know which of those possibilities are likely to attack this ship, Mr. Spock. Keep me updated.”

“Understood.”

His voice stutters only once. “I-If Doctor McCoy’s condition changes, I must know.” If Bones goes from alive to dead he cannot say so bluntly.

The First Officer comprehends his request well enough. “Yes, Captain.”

They cut communication.

He doesn’t ask about reversing the quarantine; can’t ask because it is pointless when he already knows the answer. As Captain of the Enterprise, Jim has the authority to override the quarantine. Why he doesn’t do so immediately is simple: he cannot risk endangering the ship. Walking into that medical bay, even with trained security officers at his back, without some idea of the situation he faces is reckless. Were this a planet, the surface of colony—anywhere but the Enterprise—Jim would say the code of command be damned. Here, however, the rules are less flexible. Four hundred people on this ship and nowhere for them to run except to escape pods which are, in essence, a last resort for a vessel this size.

This is his ship.

In there, in danger, is his Bones.

Jim walks up to the double doors, places a loose fist against it and leans in, feeling a brief moment of weakness. Then he straightens, reaches beside the door and hits the button to open the line of communication between him and Sickbay.

“This Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise,” he says. Without further preamble, he cuts to the heart of the matter. “Whoever you are, you do not have authorized visitation on this ship. We are prepared to use force against you.”

Kirk pauses, waiting for a response. To his surprise, the speaker crackles and a rough voice answers. “Jim.”

“Bones! Bones, are you—“

“Never mind that, Captain. They—“ Bones breaks off to say, voice harsh and directed to someone else, “—damn you, get that thing outta my ribs! You aren’t giving me a chance—“ The sharp cry of McCoy’s is cut too abrupt.

If Jim had the power to reach through the walls, he would surely commit murder with his bare hands. “Bones!”

When Leonard’s voice comes back through the speaker, it is subdued. Jim’s gut twists.

“Captain,” McCoy says, then pants once as if it pains the man to speak, “they demand you come in here. Alone.”

No time to question who “they” might be. He thinks I’ll get you out, Bones but McCoy interrupts before Jim can agree.

“Don’t do it, Jim,” pleads the doctor softly. “You can’t.”

He can. He can and he will—

Another voice overlays McCoy’s, something foreign and grating, Standard clearly not a well-known language. “Surrender. Captain only.”

“Jim, for Christ’s sake, you’re the captain, you can’t—!” McCoy’s voice fades into the background as if he has been shoved away.

“Five Earth minutes,” says that unknown voice. “After, we kill this one and you hear.”

Jim turns away, ignoring the look of his men as he paces.

One or the many. He wants to fight, wants to save Bones, but McCoy is right. For a moment, Jim had lost his sense of the greater picture. To turn himself over to the enemy is tantamount to handing over the Enterprise.

Unless…

He uses another communication unit, one farther along the corridor where he can speak to Spock without being overheard.

Spock answers his call immediately. “Captain?”

“Ready room.”

There is a short silence before Spock patches back in. “I am in the Ready Room.” Following a pause of breath, Spock calls his name.

“Spock,” he says heavily. “If— I want you to protect the ship at any cost. You can do that, Spock, because I know you can. I trust you.”

“Jim” is Spock’s only reply. In that word, Captain Kirk hears what Spock wants to say but does not, hears an inflection of fear that even a half-Vulcan cannot suppress.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t change your mind.” Jim has no choice but to say that because there may be no other opportunity and he can’t let things end as they are, not without speaking for both Bones and himself just once. More steady than before, the Captain informs the First Officer, “I relinquish command of the Enterprise to you, Mr. Spock. Kirk out.”

It is rather easy, then, to nod to his security officers, use the last vestiges of his authority to tell the ship’s computer to release the lock on the front entrance to Sickbay, and step into a danger zone. The moment Kirk is inside he says aloud, not bothering to address the three ugly aliens staring at him, “Computer, voice recognition, James Tiberius Kirk. Re-engage quarantine. Note in Captain’s log that command of the Enterprise now belongs to First Officer Spock.”

Somewhere, the ship’s computer is whirring with data bits and bleeps, recording everything that Jim needs it to.

James Kirk looks at the enemy, who steps forward to meet him. “I’m here at your demand but as you just heard, gentlemen, I am no longer Captain of this vessel.”

A familiar voice echoes in the too empty bay area. “Always changing the rules, aren’t you, Jim-boy?”

He strides straight past the creature with a phaser without hesitation. The doctor is slumped on a stool, head bent, and hands busy inserting a cartridge into a hypospray. Jim kneels down before McCoy and lifts his chin.

The blood on Leonard’s face doesn’t surprise him, but it makes him hot with rage. Jim works to push that rage aside in order to ask, “How can I help?”

Leonard quirks an eyebrow, then grimaces painfully. “Right shelf in the cooler closet. I need a bottle of thorizaphiren. Think you can find it for me?”

Jim lingers only long enough to run a thumb across the doctor’s cheekbone, smearing a trace of blood as he does so. Without another word, he walks to the supply closet. Before Jim can slide back the door, a hand grips his shoulder in warning.

Meeting a pair of red eyes, he snaps, “You’ll let me help him or we won’t cooperate. Without our cooperation, you won’t make it alive off this ship.”

Chances are these three intruders won’t get two feet into the corridor before they are surrounded and thrown into the brig. In the back of Jim’s mind is the nagging worry of the battle cruiser, probably tracking the Enterprise through these creatures. He turns again to the closet, opens it, and searches for what McCoy needs. No one stops him.

Bones’ hands never shake when he holds someone’s life in them. Jim has to take the hypospray from those suddenly unsteady hands, fumbling to fill its cartridge for McCoy while trying to recall his long ago training in basic medical care (as is required for all cadets entering the Academy). Instead, he finds himself thanking the Powers That Be that Doctor McCoy is able to give Jim direction on what to do. Between them, they manage to ease the pain of Leonard’s broken ribs and disinfect a sluggishly bleeding wound on his thigh where Leonard says his flesh had caught the edge of a table as he fell, not needing to say that he was pushed (Jim had, at first, thought for a terrified second that Bones had been stabbed). Jim is unable to convince those watching their every move that a dermal re-generator is not a weapon, so they have to settle for bandaging the wound instead.

“I can’t believe you were idiot enough to come in here,” McCoy says at last. “No, wait.” The man laughs too shortly. “I can believe it.”

Jim tries for lightness. “You could at least say you are happy to see me, Bones.”

The man snorts. “Right… ‘Cause that’s what you say when you meet somebody you love in Hell. ‘Hey, glad you’re here!’ and ‘Isn’t the pitch hot?’”

He has the sudden urge to kiss McCoy. The shift of someone to their right reminds Jim that now is not the time to indulge—not until they are certain they are going to die. Then Jim won’t care who sees them or hears his heart-felt emotion.

As if reading Jim’s mind or the intensity in his face, the doctor’s mouth turns up at the corners in a smile, blue eyes softening. Bones tells him, “You’re a good man, Jim. And yeah, I guess I am glad to see you, no matter how crazy that makes me.”

Sentimentality is not a universal trait. A booted foot kicks at Jim’s leg and a brusque voice orders, “Stand.” The phaser gestures at the doctor. “You. Stand.”

Jim rises but places a hand on McCoy’s shoulder to keep the other man in place. “He’s injured; he stays seated,” Kirk snaps in cold voice.

Bones grumbles at his back. “Don’t pick a fight, Jim. They’ve got the strength of enraged bulls on steroids.”

Why does the Federation’s enemies always have super-strength? Sometimes it is like Jim’s space adventures are cliché plots written by a god in a toddler-phase. Smalls favors, Jim guesses, since these beings seem to lack the usual super-intelligence that compliments super-strength.

“Why are you on my ship?” he demands.

One of them stares at him as though the answer is obvious. “Federation ship.”

“Yes,” he agrees. Then, to make a point, “You aren’t part of the Federation.”

They laugh and the sound of that laughter can rattle a human’s bones. Jim winces, resisting the need to clamp his hands over his ears.

The light of Sickbay glints off of the curve of the tallest one’s horns as it lowers its head to look at Jim. He doesn’t step back, but he does brace his body in case it charges like a bull, as McCoy so aptly described these creatures.

“We want,” it says, showing brittle-looking teeth, “ship. Your Federation ship.”

“Join the Federation” is Kirk’s mild answer, “and you will be welcome to work on one of our starships. Otherwise, you are a fool if you think we would simply give you our technology.”

It seems to contemplate his words for a minute, perhaps to translate them. “We do not ask. We take. It is the way.”

Yes, Kirk already knew that—had known it since the attacker first fired at his ship and refused to allow communication between their vessels.

“Then I must warn you, you aren’t the first race to try to take the Enterprise by force—but like the others, you won’t succeed.” Something scrapes behind Kirk, and his back tenses in the brief seconds before Bones’ hand drops onto his shoulder. The slight press of that hand tells Jim that McCoy is trying not to use Kirk as a prop but that the condition of Leonard’s leg is not stable enough to keep McCoy upright for too long. Jim turns his head to look at the doctor’s profile.

Bones at his side—as he wants it to be.

Jim refocuses his attention on the problem staring at them both. “You have one choice. Turn yourselves in and I promise you fair treatment until terms can be negotiated with your people. Or continue to antagonize us, kill us even, and expect swift retribution from the Federation.”

The leader swivels its head to the side, barks a command, and then looks back at Jim. Its two companions use their bulky bodies to block any effective escape route. Leonard’s hand tightens on his shoulder, and Jim says lowly, “It’s alright, Bones.”

“Jim, I—“

“We do not negotiate,” they are told flatly.

He is calm. “Then you have made your choice, gentlemen.”

Watching the leader take a menacing step forward, Kirk’s body shifts to shield McCoy from phaser blast, to shield the man for as long as Jim can hold out (and he’ll try hard to give Leonard every precious second possible).

“Jim!” That hand on his shoulder tugs at him, demanding his attention.

“Bones, stay behind me.”

“Jim, the vents!”

His nose catches a hint of odor before his eyes identify white plumes of gas spilling out of the air vents. He chokes, hears McCoy choking too, and sways with realization (and the quick effect of the gas).

Spock, that brilliant Vulcan, has released anaesthetic gas into Sickbay. He watches as the enemy roars collectively (strangled sounds) and two of them drop like felled trees. The last one unsteadily waves the phaser in its hand, shoots a wall.

Beside Kirk, McCoy’s body folds. Jim has barely enough strength to turn and catch Bones, to ease them both to the floor. A weak “Jim” breaks into the fog of his brain, which is failing against the need to shut down.

Kirk falls half atop Leonard, slides one hand into the man’s hair, and murmurs against the mouth beneath his, “Bones.” Leonard goes slack under him, and Jim gives in too. Kirk’s head falls into the crook of McCoy’s neck and shoulder.

That is how the Captain and the CMO are found, sprawled together, but it is the Vulcan Spock who kneels beside the pair and gently breaks the link of their hands to ease them apart. It is Spock who, ignoring everyone else, touches first Kirk and then McCoy and announces “Alive.”

To each officer in the room it is the only word that matters.

~~~
before…

“Why, you wouldn’t know what to do without either of us, Spock!” crows Leonard McCoy.

Jim swallows his chuckle along with a large mouthful of the fruity beverage from a pear-shaped glass. The bar is in full swing, and it had taken a miracle (“…like cajoling a cat into a bathtub—damn near impossible!” Leonard had said) to get Spock to leave the sanctuary of the Enterprise. Yet here the three of them are, kicking off the beginning of a much-needed shore leave. Jim spies a swaggering blur of a figure across the room; an inebriated burr of “Uhura, lass, did I ever tell ye what lovely—“ confirms that it is the Chief Engineer already deep into his cups. Jim is only slightly surprised that Scotty did not opt to hole up with his technical journals. Then again, perhaps Scotty is in the same situation as Spock; perhaps someone had persuaded the Scotsman to leave Jefferies tubes for an evening.

Jim is drawn back to the conversation (the verbal battle of wills, that is) between Spock and McCoy.

“I do determine a connection between my ability to function and your presence, Doctor,” replies the cool-faced Vulcan. “I suspect, were you less inclined to interrupt my schedule, I might improve my work output by 0.0015%.”

Bones’ drink sloshes on the table as the man sets it down with a hearty thunk. “Y-You ungrateful, computerized…” sputters the doctor. “I’ll have you know that I visit you out of the kindness of my heart!”

“Indeed.”

“Jim! He’s just insulted our offers of friendship!”

A brightly clad female catches his attention as she passes by their table. Jim’s eyes follow her until she disappears into the crowd. “He insulted your offer, Bones, not mine” is his distracted response. Then he clears his throat, remembering where he is (who he is with) and turns back to the two officers at the table.

McCoy, however, is staring in the direction that Kirk’s eyes had traveled. Bones finally, slowly, fixes a narrow-eyed look on Jim, saying nothing. Jim begins to sweat for no explainable reason.

Spock, sensing a new tension among their small group, asks a question in the same tone he uses when he makes an unexpected conclusion to a lab experiment. “Is it not acceptable behavior among Terrans for a male to appreciate the form of a potential mate?”

That shocks both humans into gaping at the Vulcan. Apparently Spock understands more about human behavior than Jim realized.

Bones’ shoulders relax as he leans back in his chair. “Sure it’s natural, Spock. Unless that male already has a mate.”

“I’m not seeing anyone, Bones!” Jim has to lower his voice in mid-denial when someone pauses behind the doctor, glancing at the three officers, before sitting at the other table.

“Didn’t say you were,” replies McCoy as he sips slowly at his drink.

The mildness in Bones’ voice irritates Jim. “Then what’s your problem, McCoy?”

Leonard meets his challenge, leaning forward to say, “I don’t have a problem, Captain. You’ve got the problem!”

“Doctor.”

“Me?” Though he isn’t sure why they are arguing, Jim gives in to the need to thump his fist on the table. Out of nowhere comes “You’re the one who thinks you are my keeper just because you are my doctor!”

McCoy draws away sharply, sliding his chair back and standing as he does so.

Spock cuts in with “Jim” as a clear rebuke.

“No, Spock, don’t worry about it,” McCoy answers the Vulcan without taking his eyes off Kirk. “You made your point. If you’ll excuse me, this Senior Medical Officer has work to get back to.” The doctor adds, “Just so we don’t have a misunderstanding, Captain, it’s designated work.” The man offers a tight smile to a staring waitress, who had approached to take their orders. “Thanks but no more for me, darlin’.” Then he walks away.

Jim pushes his drink to the side and contemplates banging his head repeatedly on the table. The man settles for jamming a hand through his hair instead and feeling miserable. After some minutes of silence, he admits, “I don’t know why I said that to Bones.”

“Such is often the result of failing to consider words before they are given voice.”

He winces and sighs. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Jim,” Spock tells him implacably, “I am here at the request of both Doctor McCoy and Captain Kirk. I accepted the invitation on those conditions.” There is a pause from the Vulcan before Kirk is further advised, “I estimate that Leonard will reach the transportation pad in less than five point two minutes and not engage in transport for approximately another four minutes thereafter.”

He catches on and leaps to his feet. “Thanks, Spock!” calls Kirk on his hasty maneuvering through the crowd to the bar’s exit.

Had Kirk turned to look back at the Vulcan, he would have seen Spock raise an eyebrow, then easily catch the attention of a waitress to place an order, no doubt explaining that the next round of drinks were for the return of two highly illogical humans.

The waitress (not human herself) would reply with a knowing grin, “We all have friends like that, sugar. They make life entertaining, yeah?”

Spock would, if one considers his wisdom, agree.

Footnotes:
1. Second scene is a fictional extension of the episode Space Seed. Quotes are italicized.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• What We Feel (12/12) – from April 2, 2011
• What We Feel (11/12) – from April 2, 2011
• What We Feel (10/12) – from March 28, 2011
• What We Feel (9/?) – from March 26, 2011
• What We Feel (8/?) – from March 23, 2011