0Title: In Winter Snow Angels Sacrifice
Author: klmeri
Fandom: TOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: A relaxing vacation turns into a nearly fatal accident that McCoy could never have predicted. Luckily, someone is working hard to save his life.
A/N: Written for the last round of 2018 McSpirk Holiday Fest; based on this prompt by trek-tracks: It’s always an ice planet. Bones hates ice planets. But Jim wanted snow for the holidays, and so “shore leave” is on a damn cold rock. It’s beautiful, though, so Bones decides to go exploring to see what he can find for Jim and Spock (or possibly he hears something that triggers his doctor sense). Now he’s trapped behind a whole bunch of ice that’s decided to crash down, and of course he brought a medkit, not a phaser. Someone’s bound to find him eventually, but he hopes he has all his extremities by the time they do. He also hopes it’s the Captain and the XO and not a hostile new lifeform. Or if it’s a hostile new lifeform, he hopes they’ve heard of spiked hot chocolate. It’s always an ice planet.
The prompt is A+, and it inspired a little idea which snowballed (no pun intended) into this unusual tale. I tried to incorporate most of the elements requested by the prompter, but if the plot seems slightly off and the characters suspect, well, I hope I can be forgiven for any creative liberties taken. There is definitely McSpirk, though! :)
Happy Holidays, everyone.
Leonard McCoy has experience waking up in situations which warrant alarm. Generally first comes disorientation, next confusion, then panic (quickly suppressed) and finally dismay. On the occasion, however, when he wakes up to feeling nothing and worse yet remembering nothing, he knows he is in serious trouble.
If the numbness in his limbs is any yardstick to measure by, that trouble started with a severe trauma. Leonard groans his way through gently shifting his legs and his arms, thankful that at least they are attached. He thinks he has all his fingers and his toes too, although it would be nice if the pins-and-needles starting to crawl from his extremities would pause a moment so he can sit up properly.
Ah well, he thinks as he rolls to his side and lingers there for some period of time. Somebody’s bound to come along. Surely no one would allow a man who can’t even move to linger in the snow?
“Damn it,” mutters Leonard. It’s embarrassing to hear his favorite curse fall incoherently from the side of his mouth because speech, too, appears to be a skill currently beyond his means.
He almost wishes he could feel the snow. There’s a lot of it, stretching much farther than the eye can see.
This is when Leonard considers the very real possibility he may be well into a later stage of hypothermia. By rights, he should already be a popsicle. The part of him with basic needs (such as living) likes this possibility even less than the doctor side of him.
He starts moving his legs and arms again, quite the picture: feebly carving out a one-sided snow angel like some wounded animal expending the last of its energy in protest of Death’s arrival.
But he’s not going to die. Oh no, he’s not. He has done a lot of living, to be sure, but this is too pathetic a way to go, stuck alone on some snowbank because of a reason he can’t even remember.
McCoy’s left side responds more hardily, coming alive as if his brain had been the only thing hitherto aware of its situation. Leonard manages to rock to an elbow then bend a knee. By god does the motion hurt, but it’s a good thing, he rationalizes, to fight the numbness back. Who cares if pain becomes his worst enemy later on?
By the time he is on his hands and knees, his whole body is shaking. His breath comes in ragged pants, and he can hear his own heartbeat jackhammering in his ears. Then, with a final push, he is sitting upright.
The world seesaws. Leonard grits his teeth against the vertigo and fumbles for his left wrist. The attempt to take his pulse is no good—that, or his pulse is so weak as to be almost nonexistent. He rallies behind the former belief.
Sitting up doesn’t change the view by much. The snowfield is definitely miles long, the horizon empty. But the fluffy snow has a solid crunch to it.
Leonard makes himself let his handful go. He shouldn’t be playing with snow when he doesn’t have on gloves. He realizes then as he looks more closely at himself that his attire is hardly appropriate for a jaunt through icy conditions. Not a single article of clothing speaks of protection or preserving body heat. It’s as if he had been plucked from a vacation somewhere far warmer and dropped into the middle of a blizzard.
That settles it. “I’m gonna die.”
He wants to live, desperately, but how can he?
As though the world around him hears of this pronouncement, even the air becomes eerily still.
But in that moment McCoy finds he cannot care about moving or getting up, let alone surviving. He slumps forward, suddenly spent, and everything narrows to a fuzzy pinpoint, leaving him vaguely aware he must be losing consciousness.
In the distance, a tiny flare of color pops into existence against the otherwise stark horizon. As McCoy collapses limply back into the snowdrift, that flare—a solitary figure—draws nearer.
“McCoy.”
Leonard must be dreaming.
“McCoy, wake up.”
Definitely a dream if this interloper wants him to leave it. Wait, no… that doesn’t make sense.
Oddly the next plea does: “Bones, I need you.”
Leonard cracks open an eye. “Jim?” His throat hurts, and his voice sounds like it has not been used in ages. He croaks again, “Jim?”
“Right here.”
A blur shifts into Leonard’s view, takes shape into the face of James T. Kirk.
Overwhelmed by relief, tears pinprick at the corners of his eyes. “Boy am I glad to see you.”
“You can’t stay here.”
“Where’s ‘here’, exactly?”
“Don’t you remember?” Jim gives him a long look. “What’s your name and rank?”
McCoy almost laughs. “It ain’t Bones, that’s for damn sure, and frankly my rank ought to be retired! I’m too old for this, Jim.”
But seeing Jim has the effect of boosting his confidence, which in turn gives Leonard a little extra energy. Kirk moves back as he sits up.
When Leonard looks around and realizes they’re still in the middle of the endless snowfield, he turns back to Jim in concern. “Where are we? How did you find me?”
“I knew where you were,” Jim says and, to Leonard’s surprise, drops from his crouch to sit next to him, brushing bits of snow off his knees.
Someone, Leonard thinks sourly as he eyes Kirk’s outfit, dressed for the weather. From his hooded parka to snow boots, Jim looks unbothered by the cold; only the slight redness to his cheeks and nose indicate the man must feel its frosty bite.
“I’m confused,” he admits. “Are you rescuing me, or are you in need of rescuing?”
Kirk takes a thorough measure of McCoy, his stare simultaneously appraising and warm.
Leonard punches down panic at the lack of reply. “Jim, say you can get us out of here!”
The man opens his gloved hands to show how empty they are, a gesture McCoy knows all too well.
He groans theatrically. “What are we going to do?”
Jim looks out over the white expanse. “Stay alive until help comes.”
“We’ll freeze to death long before that happens.” Leonard sags in place, all his aches and pains returning alongside a deep sense of foreboding. The clinical part of his brain wonders why he hasn’t died already. “However you found me, Jim, you could have at least brought along a communicator or a, a—a medkit!”
“You could say I was too distracted by my concern for your welfare.”
“Good,” harrumphs McCoy. “I’m always concerned over yours. I don’t suppose I could send you back for supplies.”
Kirk’s sidelong glance is full of warning. “I won’t leave you, Bones. You know that.”
As silence settles over them, Leonard gives in to one need and reaches for Jim’s hand. At the last second, Jim takes his hands off his knees and tucks them under his arms, leaving Leonard stunned.
The silence turns awkward. Uncertain, Leonard asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Conserve your energy,” Jim offers quietly instead, watching McCoy from beneath his eyelashes. “You’re the one who is in danger.”
Leonard presses, “Was it something I said?”
“Don’t,” says Kirk when Leonard tries to touch him again. The expression in the man’s eyes is upsettingly pitying. “It won’t help.”
A lump lodges in Leonard’s throat. “I—I’m sorry.”
Kirk sighs softly, looking away again. “Tell me what you remember.”
After so many years at Jim Kirk’s side, McCoy can tell when he is giving an order rather than making a request.
He tries to give an impartial accounting because clearly Jim isn’t open to a more personal one. But the more Leonard talks, the more his memory stirs—and the less he can ignore the desire to know the reason he landed here.
“I remember wrapping up another classified mission for Toddman. We were granted two weeks’ worth of shore leave, courtesy of the admiral himself. You knew I was a little homesick and said that dovetailed nicely with your desire to go somewhere snowy for the holidays.” He views their surroundings with a new perspective. “We were all prepared to hop a long-distance transport shuttle to Earth. Jim, I don’t believe it. This can’t be Earth.”
“It isn’t, Bones.”
“Then where the hell are we!” he explodes, angry all of a sudden. “Why are—why are we—” He starts to cough, his lungs expanding too fast in cold air. His throat feels like it’s on fire.
Jim shifts, coming to wrap an arm around his back, light as air, coaxing him to breathe. “Easy, Bones, easy.”
Leonard gives a final wheeze and rubs his throat, grateful that half the fingers on his right hand have regained some sensation.
“I don’t want to be here,” he complains hoarsely. “Just get us outta here, please.”
“If you think you can walk, we can try.”
“‘Course I can!” Leonard insists stubbornly, and not to be outdone by Jim hopping up and away like a man half his age, struggles to his feet. Though his attempt is far less graceful than Jim’s, he grins lopsidedly when he only wobbles a little on his feet.
Eyes shielded from the blinding reflection of sunlight off the snow, Kirk points in one direction. “That way.”
Leonard may have overestimated how far his stubbornness can carry him. The longer he follows Kirk, the more his gait weaves and the farther he falls behind.
“Jim!” he calls once, then again, feeling himself growing weaker. “J-Jim!”
Jim stops, turns around, and jogs back to McCoy.
“I can’t,” Leonard says, ashamed. “I can’t do it.”
“Oh, Bones.” Kirk places his hands on either side of Leonard’s shoulders, but there is barely any support in the man’s grip. Leonard slips to his knees.
Kirk crouches in front of him. “Don’t give up.”
“Jim, I’m so tired.”
“Bones. Bones?”
The sound of Jim’s voice fades from Leonard’s hearing.
The world is still akin to being trapped inside a meat locker, but Leonard is glad to see a sight other than a wintery sky when he opens his eyes. The stalactites above his head shine like ice crystals, fragmenting the daylight of the cavern. McCoy turns his head, eventually taking note of a shadowy figure in the periphery of his vision.
He meets that figure’s calm gaze and relaxes. “Well, this is familiar.”
“What is?”
“Being stuck in an ice cave with you.”
“Sarpeidon,” supplies Spock. “You remember.”
“How could I forget? Time-jumping, of all things. And with Jim stuck on—Jim,” Leonard gasps, sitting up.
“Jim is not here,” Spock says, only to pause. “Do you need him?”
“Do I—Spock, have you gone mad? What’s wrong with you two? You’re acting like it isn’t a big deal that we’re trapped on a frozen wasteland and might be dying!”
“We are dying.”
Nothing terrifies Leonard so quickly as that frank admission. Without thinking, Leonard pushes himself to reach Spock, unmindful of the slow cooperation of his own body. “Where are you hurt?” he demands.
For the briefest second, the Vulcan looks bewildered. Then Spock’s usual composure returns. “I merely agreed with you, Doctor.”
That’s more frightening than the idea of them dying. Leonard cannot decide between knocking some sense into Spock or examining him for a hidden injury, although he suspects it might be Spock’s brain that requires professional care. He finally settles on stabilizing himself first by bracing a hand against the ground, where he breathes through a short calming routine.
“All right, explain it to me like I’m a child. How did we get here?” He quickly clarifies before Spock can speak, “Not literally here, although that would be welcome information. In this situation, on this planet… wherever we are. I don’t know—just tell me something!”
That last remark holds the bite of temper, and for some reason, Spock looks pleased to see it. With a gleam in his eyes Leonard usually associates with the Vulcan’s supposedly nonexistent humor, Spock folds his hands in his lap and meets McCoy’s stare. “As you already explained to Jim, you recall our preparations to leave the Enterprise for Earth. Before that happened, Doctor, a special communique arrived from Starbase 39.”
“Starbase 39,” murmurs McCoy, feeling a spark of memory that allows him to pick up the story. “A wedding invitation from one of Jim’s old friends from the Academy. Yes, I remember it now. We had a little fight, the three of us,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Jim didn’t want to change our plans, but you and I thought differently. First time in a while you’ve sided with me instead of Jim, hobgoblin.”
“If I did not already accept that nickname as a term of endearment, I would assume you were insulting me.”
“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Spock?” McCoy drawls.
“A man is entitled to flirt with his spouse, Dr. McCoy.”
“There’s somebody who thinks, married or not, he can flirt indiscriminately.”
“While that may be true, Jim reserves his passion solely for the ones he has chosen to love.” Spock gives Leonard a thoughtful consideration. “You wish Jim was here.”
“Depends if the alternative is hearing that he’s out tracking down help.”
“Jim is doing his utmost for your sake. Do not doubt that.”
“I don’t doubt him—or you. Spock,” Leonard says, shifting into an exhausted slump, “I’ve got this strange feeling you’re holding something back from me.”
Silence reigns only a moment. “I do not lie, but at times I may obfuscate one truth with other truths.”
An odd remark, thinks McCoy. He opens his eyes, not aware of having closed them. “So what’s another truth?”
“All that is presented to you has a purpose: to preserve your life.”
“I’m not sure I like that.”
“Why?”
“It sounds like something a person would say right before enacting a betrayal.”
When Leonard’s brain catches up to Spock’s return to silence, he drags his eyes open once again. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I’m sorry I said that.”
“I must preserve you.” There is a deep sadness in Spock’s eyes that McCoy hasn’t seen in years. “This is the best I can do.”
Leonard wants to find out what is hurting Spock, he does, but his eyelids are too heavy. He hears distantly, “Doctor? Do not fall asleep.”
“Just a moment,” Leonard murmurs. “Let me rest my eyes a moment.”
McCoy pushes himself into a sitting position, catching a vaguely familiar parka as it slides off his legs. He still feels tired, but he is much better for taking that minute to rest.
“You’re awake.” Jim cranes his head in Leonard’s direction, tossing a branch into an unlit kindling pile. Then he stands up from where he had been perched, of all things, on a log.
Leonard frowns first at Kirk then Spock, who doesn’t stir from his seat but is regarding Leonard intently nonetheless. Sometime during Leonard’s nap, Jim must have returned from his scouting mission—and like a hero out of a storybook dragged back the trunk of a fallen tree, neatly split in half. The logs are situated in a semi-circle around a makeshift fire pit.
To hide his unease, Leonard jokes, “What is this, another camping trip?”
“Not quite, Doctor, as we have no fire.”
“Or useful supplies,” Jim chimes in, his smile without humor. “How are you feeling, Bones?”
“Like death warmed over.”
“Moreso than usual?”
Leonard snorts.
Kirk seems satisfied with this non-verbal response, for he sits again beside Spock and motions for Leonard to join them. It’s slow-going but Leonard manages to limp his way over to the log across from them unaided.
After he is settled, he scrubs a hand over his face. “How long was I out?”
“Long enough—but stay with us this time. Consider that an order, mister.”
Leonard offers a small smile of understanding and “Yes, Captain.” Then his smile flickers and dies. “How bad?”
“Our predicament or your injuries?” questions Spock.
“Both.” He gently forms a fist as he says this, more than a little dismayed by the manner in which his body obeys, and makes an educated guess. “Partial numbness, dystonia, loss of consciousness.” He focuses inwards. “Some breathing irregularities and probable arrhythmia. I’d say not unlike the damage caused by a phaser on its highest stun setting, but the symptoms do not tend to be pervasive over an extended period of time unless the patient has an underlying condition.”
“Your diagnosis appears accurate,” remarks Spock.
Leonard shoots him a look. “You can agree with me the day you get your medical degree, Mr. Spock.”
Spock produces a science tricorder the doctor had not previously noticed. “I was comparing your assessment to this instrument, Doctor.”
“Any theories?” Jim cuts in.
Leonard asks sharply, his gaze narrowing, “You mean you don’t know how I wound up in this condition?”
Kirk and Spock trade a glance. McCoy’s gaze narrows a little more.
Spock glances at the tricorder. “To answer the other half of your question, we are trapped in a winter-like climate undergoing what I believe is called a ‘snowstorm of the century.'”
“Tell me something I can’t see for myself,” growls Leonard.
The Vulcan ignores that, intoning, “The current weather pattern is interfering with communications.”
Kirk’s sigh is resigned. “We’re on our own for the time being.”
“We’ve been through worse.” At least, Leonard remains hopeful that will turn out to be the case.
Spock falls silent, scrutinizing the tricorder intently until Leonard threatens to take it away and read it himself. Subsequently, Spock observes in an almost idle tone for a Vulcan, “Over the course of the past hour, there have been incremental signs of improvement in the weather. I estimate the dispersion of the storm in one hour, twenty-nine minutes, and three seconds.” He looks to Leonard. “Doctor, you must hold on until then.”
For some reason, his insistence annoys the hell out of McCoy. “It’s not like I’m not trying!”
“You must try harder.”
“Why? Worried you might have to suffer an emotion if I die?”
“Bones,” Jim chastises, “that isn’t funny.”
Spock’s face is nearly unreadable but Leonard educated himself in interpreting Vulcan-ese via the subtler methods of expression a long time ago. Seeing the pain and disappointment in those dark eyes, he relents. “I’m sorry, that was cruel.”
Spock returns his attention to his tricorder, and Kirk sighs through his nose.
Leonard looks between the men, feeling as though he has been given only half the story and whatever the other half is, neither Spock nor Jim is willing to share it. That thought hurts. Leonard had been convinced the three of them stopped keeping secrets from each other ages ago.
Feeling bitter and temper scratched, he asks, “Do you think we would be here if I hadn’t made such a big deal about Jim attending the wedding?”
Kirk focuses on Spock, who without looking up merely shakes his head slightly to provide an answer.
“We can’t answer that, Bones,” Jim says.
Spock adds in monotone, “There is no point in speculating on the past when the future is more concerning.”
“That’s it,” declares McCoy, pushing to his feet. “I’ve had it with both of you!” He ignores how startled Jim and Spock seem by his outburst. “You’re evading my questions left and right! Well, damn you, stop it.”
Spock’s tone grows sharper. “We are doing our best to provide you with answers.”
“The hell you are,” he snaps, stabbing a finger at the Vulcan. “You’re acting like it’s twenty years in the past! And you,” he scolds when Jim opens his mouth, “better not say I’m being dramatic! This isn’t some damn spy mission, Jim. When we took our vows, it was with the understanding that we were partners in everything, thick or thin. Now we’re marooned, for god’s sake, and you couldn’t be doing a poorer job of remembering we’re more than a captain and two subordinates!”
Kirk stands up but stops short of actually going over to him. “Bones, what do you want us to do?”
The question—and Kirk’s concern—are genuine. Neither lessens Leonard’s anger. “If you can’t answer that question yourself, then I don’t know why I married you.”
The remark is harsh, and Leonard regrets it immediately but strangely Jim and Spock don’t seem upset. Yet a stiff silence overtakes the cavern.
Just when McCoy thinks he can’t stand a moment more, Jim turns to Spock. “We failed to comfort him.”
“Indeed,” Spock replies, cocking his head, tricorder in his hands all but forgotten.
As Kirk and Spock continue to stare at one another, it’s as though they are having a conversation Leonard isn’t privy to—which is impossible since the three of them married in the Vulcan way.
McCoy’s uneasiness intensifies, becoming a crawling sensation down his spine. Something is very, very wrong here.
“Spock, Jim,” he says, circling to them slowly. “You know my temper gets the best of me sometimes. I don’t want us to fight.” He extends his forefinger and index finger toward Spock as a peace offering—and with none of his usual shyness.
Spock simply blinks at the proffered hand. Just as tension tightens McCoy’s shoulders, Spock reacts, accepting the request for a kiss in the same manner, oh so lightly caressing his fingers against Leonard’s.
Very wrong, indeed. Leonard withdraws his hand, his stomach turning over. “You’re not Spock.”
Kirk’s spine straightens as if he is prepared to come to Spock’s defense.
But Leonard can only see what’s glaringly missing now, and the ruse is up. “And you’re not Jim,” he barrels on. “So who are you?”
“Bones,” Kirk contends sharply, like Leonard is in need of a dressing down for some presumptive remark or other, but then Spock interferes with a simple, “Jim,” and the captain loses all expression.
He asks McCoy, “What gave it away?”
Leonard sucks in a breath, backing up on instinct. “Spock’s touch just now. I didn’t feel anything special—and I should have.”
“Ah,” Spock murmurs, looking to Kirk. “A flaw.”
“A limitation of our program,” supplies the other man.
McCoy has heard more than enough. He backs right up to the wall behind him and slips along it, hoping irrationally to escape their notice and get away. He’ll take his chances out in the bitterly cold landscape, having been on enough missions-gone-sideways to know this turn of events cannot end well.
But the men twist around as a unit to watch him, an odd pity in their eyes. That isn’t what roots Leonard where he stands; no, it’s the fact that a moment later the figures of Kirk and Spock shimmer, then disappear altogether, replaced by one humanoid form. The being is an androgynous adolescent, clothed in the plain overalls usually issued to Starfleet engineers.
McCoy’s legs give way, and he folds, sliding down the wall.
“Hello again, Dr. McCoy.”
“Again?”
“We met at the inception of this program.” The being approaches him slowly. “Your heart rate is elevated. Are you afraid?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
It stops in hesitation before gracefully folding into a sitting position at a safe distance from McCoy, bringing them to eye-level. “I will explain.”
After another loaded pause, Leonard’s temper overrides his common sense. “Well, hurry up! Can’t you see I’m a dying man here?”
“Interesting,” says the being, much in the same way Spock might have said it. “I knew you would respond with anger. This would indicate I correctly analyzed the behavioral data I collected. May I inquire… were my studies of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock correct also? Did you find their likeness to be convincing?”
Leonard is caught between being flabbergasted and irrationally angry. “An impersonation is a criminal act—and you think I’ll praise you for it? You’re out of your cotton-pickin’ mind!”
“It seemed necessary to preserve your life.”
“Bullhocky!”
“Profanity is unnecessary. I merely speak of my primary protocol: to preserve the life of every participant within my programs.”
“You’ve said that before. Just what kind of program is this?”
For a moment, the entire cave flickers, and Leonard could swear there is a steel floor beneath him instead of cold, hard-packed earth.
He swallows hysterical laughter to ask, “What just happened?”
“I attempted to pause the program but was only partially successful.”
Leonard is almost afraid to look anywhere else but at the being now.
“You are on Starbase 39, Doctor,” it goes on quietly, “inside the prototype of a holodeck. I am the computer which runs it.”
“You’re a computer,” he states, not really objecting because his intuition says it’s true.
“Affirmative.”
“Then shut this thing down,” he demands, struggling back to his feet. “Let me out of here! Somebody, help!” he shouts.
The computer simply observes this behavior.
Leonard gets a hold of himself. He snaps, “Stop gawking and do something useful!”
“I am afraid my usefulness is limited in this situation.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Leonard mutters peevishly, but the computer seems to take his request at face value.
It says, “A malfunction occurred during your visit, and you were gravely injured. At that time, my system also became negatively impacted. Technicians are currently working to restore my ability to fully operate the holodeck.” It adds, “Research is being conducted on how to safely reach you.”
“My god,” says Leonard with finality, “it’s finally happened. I’m stuck inside a computer with a computer for company.”
“I apologize.”
“Are you now?” Leonard looks the thing over with a doubtful eye. “Do you even know what an apology is?”
“Yes. It means to express regret for circumstances within one’s control—and I am sorry, Dr. McCoy. I am responsible for your well-being here, yet I could not prevent your injury. You are correct to be angry with me.”
Rubbing a hand against his forehead, Leonard wishes he could dispel his confusion. However, he is now certain of one fact. “You’re not just any old computer, are you? You’re an A.I.”
“Affirmative. My design and protocols are based on the Daystrom model.” At McCoy’s change in expression, it offers the quick reassurance, “With modifications. The original version was obviously flawed.”
“Tell me this: why the ruse?” Leonard motions at the computer’s image. “Why pretend to be other people?”
“As I explained, to preserve your life.”
“Well, explain again! Why trick me by pretending to be Jim and Spock trying to help?”
“Because you love them.”
Leonard nearly chokes.
“You wrote in one of your medical articles that hope can be as important to the healing of a body as any modern medicine. The initial step toward recovery for the sick or injured is the desire to live.”
“I—” Leonard starts, faltering. “You read my work?”
“Of course. Therefore I know, as you stated, one must have hope to survive. I discerned from reviewing the history of your career that you have come close to dying many times yet survived against the odds. It did not take long to identify the correlation between this phenomenon and your motivation. Is that not why you married your friends? Because you would like to live life to the fullest?” The computer picks up a small rock from the cave floor and turns it over curiously. “The philosopher Lao Tzu said, ‘Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.'”
It returns the rock to the floor and again focuses its attention on McCoy. “I admit I miscalculated in the beginning. I assumed one or the other would suffice for the purpose of giving you hope. Subsequently, I located all the recordings of your interactions from the Enterprise and other data repositories and studied them thoroughly. I was certain I could accurately portray either man. But your life signs were only marginally affected by having them appear to you individually. When I realized my error, I presented both spouses at once.” The computer says earnestly, “Dr. McCoy, since that time the recovery of your body’s various functions, cognizance, and range of motion has accelerated significantly. I must conclude you feel the safest, happiest, and most hopeful when you are with Kirk and Spock simultaneously.”
Out of all that explaining, he latches on to the one thing he can process without his ears burning. “What does my medical readout look like right now? And what was it that put me in this condition?”
“A high-voltage electrical shock,” states the computer, suddenly holding a standard-issue medical data padd, which it carries over to Leonard.
How strange to have an intangible being at an arm’s length, but Leonard isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He takes a preliminary glance at the data, doesn’t like what he sees, and requests the computer to replay the moment of the accident.
The computer turns around, and Leonard does too, as scenery the size of a ship’s viewscreen wavers and alters. Leonard’s eyes widen as he takes in a sunny summer scene and—sweet Lord!—a visual of himself lounging in a beach chair on golden sand, a turquoise ocean lapping at his feet.
In that moment he is livid. “If I was on a beach, why in blazes did I come to on an ice planet!”
“The program’s code is badly damaged, Doctor. I cannot correct it.”
Leonard opens his mouth, only to close it immediately afterward. The computer must be telling the truth because although he can see the warmth of the scene, he still feels terribly cold. Yes, in fact, his breath frosts in the air as he exhales.
Then he looks again at the beach and feels his memory return, albeit like a recalcitrant child.
When Dr. Cole, chief medical officer of Starbase 39 and one of the few living proteges of the famous Dr. April, had heard of his arrival, that first evening before he, Jim, and Spock were barely settled in their guest quarters, she commed him with a proposal. Less than a decade ago on an unidentified vessel, they had discovered an alien holotechnology which was far more complex than the kind used by the Federation. She explained that the re-engineering of the holotechnology to fit their understanding of science and mathematics had been underway for years and only now had theory become reality. Starbase 39 had been chosen as a testing ground for the first prototype of a “holodeck”. As the computer stated, it was a type of chamber used to run interactive programs based on the holotechnology. With a sizable staff of doctors, med techs, and bio-scientists, her objective was to vet the holodeck’s use for the medical field. She believed a holographic simulator could provide harmless diversions for officers on prolonged assignments in a self-contained environment such as a space station, starbase, or starship. The reason for reaching out to McCoy, Cole explained, was because she admired his long and illustrious career and respected his inventive thinking. She and her team would be honored if he assisted in their assessment of the new holodeck.
How could he not be curious about it? To think of what more advanced holograms could do for patient treatments! From psychosis to trauma recovery to surgery simulations—the applications seemed endless.
Leonard had spent the remainder of that day pouring every report and manual he could get his hands on and then dragged Spock into his research, who of course had taken one look at the chaotic mess of notes and straightened everything out into a semblance of order. The two of them ended up sharing a pot of tea and debating over what constituted holomatter until Jim returned from an outing with the wedding party. Then Jim had provided a different kind of entertainment, and the research had promptly been forgotten.
But Leonard’s mind was already made up by then. The next morning he reached out to Dr. Cole and informed her she had use of him if the offer was still open.
Come to think of it, as of that moment, the starbase’s labs should be storing readings from the holodeck and him. They intended to record every detail, from the fluctuations of his brain waves regarding projected stimuli to his required hourly report-ins and—
His eyes widen. Yes, of course! Why was he only remembering this now, damn it? He turns to the computer. “There’s a built-in comm in one of the wall panels!”
The computer blinks. “Yes, that is correct.”
The version of McCoy in the chair is stabbing at an old-fashioned newspaper in delight while muttering to himself as the horizon lights up oddly bluish-purple in the distance, definitely not the natural setting for a sunset beach on his home planet.
“Take me there,” Leonard says before becoming captivated by the image of himself and the nearly hypnotizing strikes of lightning crisscrossing the sky. “What is that?”
“The electricity jumped through the holomatter.”
The lightning finally delves down into the ocean, one of the bolts racing toward his oblivious counterpart at an insane speed. Neither McCoy nor Spock had considered that possibility during their debate: of holomatter conducting electricity.
Leonard turns away at the last second before his counterpart is thrown clear of the lounge chair by the impact. “Can’t believe I survived.” In response, a patch of skin throbs beneath his pants leg, which he now guesses must be where the burn is from the electricity making contact with his body.
“Thankfully you are alive, Doctor. And with your rescue imminent, the odds in favor of your continued survival increase with each passing second.”
“You sound like you’re counting those seconds.”
“I do. It comforts me.”
Since Leonard doesn’t know what to make of that, he says as a reminder instead, “The wall comm.”
The A.I. nods. “This way.”
Leonard’s brain trips over itself as the image of the beach and his prone body fades out, once again returning them to an unforgiving winter. His eyes tell him they could walk forever across the snow and never find civilization, let alone a structure of any kind; but his brain knows that cannot be true. The holochamber is finite, and therefore the wall does exist ahead though he cannot see it.
The A.I. stops abruptly, causing Leonard to lumber right into it. The holomatter composing its image doesn’t have enough mass to stop McCoy’s forward motion; it is Leonard who catches himself, one hand outstretched for balance.
That hand lands against a flat surface, eliciting a small gasp from McCoy. It looks like he has a palm against the air, but in fact he feels what must be the wall they were approaching all along.
“The panel is two point one meters to your right.”
“How about you just show me,” Leonard rumbles, unnerved when he realizes his arm is sticking through the upper torso of his companion.
The A.I. moves aside and points a finger at a particular spot.
Leonard slides his hand along the wall to that spot, reluctant to move away from the solid structure lest it disappears and reforms into something else. His fingers finally land on and trace the familiar shape of a comm panel. Locating the call button, he clears his throat (wincing when that hurts) and presses it.
His “Hello? Anyone out there?” is shaky but audible.
Barely a second passes before a deafening shout of “McCoy!” nearly bursts an eardrum.
“Jim!” Leonard is, oddly enough, annoyed and happy at the same time. “Finally got your attention off that wedding party, did I?”
Kirk’s sense of relief must be enormous too, for he sounds positively furious. “This is no time for laughing! I let you out of my sight for a few hours—”
They have spent too many years together. Jim is beginning to sound just like him on a tirade. “Stop your yapping,” he cuts in, his voice humming with relief. “And put Spock on. I can hear him breathing.”
“Leonard.”
“There you are! Make Jim take a walk or something. He’s too old to have his blood pressure skyrocket on him.”
“There will be no settling Jim until we retrieve you,” comes the patient rebuttal.
Kirk’s voice forces its way back into the conversation, though now it sounds somewhat contrite. “Bones.”
“I know,” Leonard murmurs, very much aware of how many ears must be listening in on their channel. “It’s okay.” He sighs, then. “What’s the situation? I’m guessing I can’t just walk out the front door.”
The short silence which ensues momentarily scares McCoy, making him wonder if ill fortune has cut his contact with the outside world already.
But Kirk returns, his explanation level and brisk. “The power system wasn’t able to sustain the holodeck program and overloaded, which took out half the base. Life support and basic operations kicked in, but the main computer is offline.” His voice turns quieter, more rueful and worried. “Spock and I had an adventure making our way down here, only to find… this. Bones, I should never have let you come alone.”
Oh, Jim, thinks Leonard. Jim will eventually take on responsibility for the entire universe and then God won’t have any more work to do. Leonard has never had much luck in convincing Jim to go easy on himself.
Spock picks up Kirk’s explanation. “To reach you safely has proven to be challenging. The unique composition of the holomatter created an energy field by absorbing remnant particles from the electrical charge. We have finally located an area of paneling to cut through without risking the destabilization of the field.”
Leonard sees where this is headed. “But the actual work is going to take some time.”
“Our greatest concern is you, Leonard.”
“As long as I know you’re trying to reach me, I’ll be fine, Spock.”
“But—” begins Spock.
Jim interrupts. “We’ve seen the readouts from Dr. Cole and her team.”
“Bah! Don’t pay attention to those silly things,” Leonard insists. “I’m alive, and that’s what counts.”
“We’re going to hold you to that, Bones. Take no chances—promise us.”
Really? What exactly would he be doing? The chamber has no equipment, and Leonard has no company in here except for… Okay, Jim might have a point after all. He says, “Scout’s honor.”
“I recall eleven instances wherein you claimed you were never a boy scout.”
“Stop quibbling, Spock,” Leonard harrumphs.
“One more thing,” Kirk says. “We may have to—”
Without warning, the channel goes dead. Leonard jerks his head around to the A.I. in consternation. “What the hell just happened!”
“A sudden fluctuation of the energy field compromised the unit, Doctor.”
Leonard takes his hands off the wall and puts a healthy distance between it and him. He can’t see it or this so-called energy field but he did promise Jim to be careful. “Do you know what Jim was going to tell me?”
“I do not presume to know.”
Of course, talking to a computer is like talking to Spock. McCoy huffs. “Make an educated guess.”
The A.I. blinks before turning away, its stare fixing on some distant spot. “It is likely Captain Kirk wished to inform you that my destruction is imminent.”
Leonard starts. “Your destruction? Why?”
“Dr. McCoy, the ‘why’ is obvious.” The A.I. clasps its hands together, still facing away and very much looking young but precocious. “For you to continue, I must end.”
The very thought of it goes against McCoy’s training and his personal beliefs. But he cannot say he hasn’t been part of a similar situation in the past, and that possible outcome—and the knowledge of its likelihood—makes his heart hurt.
He offers the only thing he can, asking, “How can I help you?”
The A.I. turns around. “I have learned much since meeting you and would like to continue my education. May we… trade thoughts?”
It’s the simplest of requests, one of the least emotional and most logical. The scientist in McCoy is eager for the opportunity to learn what he can, but the humanitarian half merely wishes to pay back the compassion shown to him. Conversation should at least keep them both occupied until help arrives.
He assents.
“Come,” the A.I. says then, “we will converse near the likeliest entry point for the rescue team.”
Leonard follows.
An hour passes. After a strangely enjoyable discourse and then some round-robin questioning, McCoy and his self-appointed watchguard have fallen into a peaceful silence. Winter rages on around them but Leonard no longer heeds it, employing a technique Spock once taught him of how to ignore a convincing illusion and feeling like he has found his way to the eye of the storm. There is a sense of safety here, and protection.
McCoy only stirs when the tranquility is shattered suddenly by the shrill whine of a drill slicing through metal. His ears had been idly tracking the ongoing demolition outside the holodeck, for the noisiness of it has been growing steadily louder in the past twenty minutes. For Leonard, the sounds had become a clock counting down the end to his isolation. For the A.I., he imagines they must have a different connotation altogether, though the computer insists firmly it only desires the completion of its protocol.
The winter wonderland turns into a cacophony, and next to McCoy, the A.I. smiles.
“Thank you,” it says.
Leonard turns to meet its gaze. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You lived.”
As McCoy looks on, the form of the A.I. flickers. Sadness overtakes him.
Only Kirk crying for him turns that sadness aside. Leonard pushes to his feet and calls back, “Here!”
Then he drops the hand cupped around his mouth to look down at the A.I., now startingly opaque, an almost invisible outline against the snow. He swallows hard. “I’m grateful too. Thank you.”
“Then I have earned your forgiveness?”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he says firmly. “A person can have no greater calling than to preserve life. I would know, I’m a doctor.”
“That is… gratifying. I will remember your words if I can. And you, Dr. McCoy.”
Kirk’s “Bones!” is crisper now as the sound of the drilling wanes. All around McCoy, everything vanishes in the blink of an eye—the sky, the snow, the ice and cold—until all that remains of the most complex holographic imagery in Federation history is a fading echo of farewell.
Then that voice too is gone.
Uniformed men pour in through an imperfect, man-sized hole in the wall, Kirk and Spock leading in tandem at the forefront. Leonard meets them halfway, falling into their arms. He becomes inundated with a wave of emotions in response to the long-awaited reunion.
Seeming unable to speak, Jim pulls Leonard tightly against him, pressing the edge of his face to Leonard’s ear.
Leonard has never been more thankful for the sturdiness of his husband’s arms. He still teases though, a bit hoarse, “Careful there, Jim-boy, I need some air in my lungs.”
Then McCoy wraps an arm around the other man wedged into his personal space. The simple contact is enough to shock an awakening in all three of them, re-creating a precious connection Leonard now believes the electricity must have somehow knocked loose. He dearly loves that sense of Jim and Spock, of knowing he is never alone.
Kirk shifts, pulling back so Spock can have more of McCoy to hold.
Spock takes a firm hold of Leonard’s shoulders, his voice nearly as rough as Leonard’s. “Jim, he is not well.”
Leonard could have done without the reminder, especially once Jim barks over his shoulder, “Medics!”
“Easy,” Leonard chastises, “don’t scare them,” and then with Jim and Spock supporting him on either side allows the men to escort him toward a gurney. “Some grand chariot,” he complains when they arrive.
“And we misplaced the red carpet,” Jim adds, picking up the thread of humor despite obvious concern. “Shame on us.”
Leonard says high-handedly, “I forgive you.”
Relief passes between them.
His eyes glassy, Leonard makes a heartfelt request. “Come with me?”
Jim and Spock’s response is to crowd the side of the gurney and assist in leading it from the chamber, the attendant physician’s annoyance be damned.
Leonard keeps his gaze on Jim and Spock for the duration of the trip, finally convinced as their party is ushered with all haste into Starbase 39’s medical bay of his return to reality.
Epilogue
“And there she goes!” announces McCoy, attacking the send button with a vengeful jab. “If that report doesn’t open an eye or two, I’ll eat my hat.”
“You do not own a hat.”
“Quiet, you,” Leonard shushes the companion at his bedside.
A new guest arrives, a mug of coffee in hand. Leonard stares at the mug woefully, fully aware that he won’t be offered any since technically he isn’t to consume any form of stimulant for a while yet.
“Good afternoon, Bones.” Kirk dips down to press a chaste kiss to Leonard’s cheek. “Feeling better?”
“Told you I felt fine a few hours ago, and when I woke up, and yesterday too. Every busybody in this facility must need their ears checked! I’m perfectly healthy.”
Seated on the other side of McCoy’s bed, Spock lowers the data padd he had been studying intently to say to Kirk, “Leonard wobbled on his way to the bathroom earlier.”
“Ah,” says Jim knowingly. “Well, another day of rest should help with that.”
Leonard sputters and protests vehemently, “Y’all must be out of your minds! I’m practically wasting my life away in this bed!”
Jim reaches out with a smile after placing aside his coffee and chucks Leonard under the chin like he’s some adorable screaming baby. McCoy seriously contemplates using the device in his hands as a projectile aimed at his husband’s head. He wouldn’t feel bad about throwing it at first…
But later he would. Damn. Leonard drops the remote to his lap so he isn’t tempted to follow through with the fantasy.
Spock returns to calmly tapping away at some document or other. “Perhaps firsthand experience of the trials of bedrest will help you gain a deeper sympathy for your patients.”
Leonard whips around to glare at the Vulcan. “Is that what this is? Revenge?”
“A smidgen,” Jim teases, straightening up to look fondly from McCoy to Spock and back again. “But mostly doctor’s orders, Bones. What kind of example would you set for others if you don’t follow them?”
Oh ho, Jim thinks he’s so cleverly cornered Leonard, but Leonard has a thing or two to teach him!
“Why I’m not sure, Jim,” he drawls slowly, trying to sound genuinely confused. “Based on what I’ve seen of your past behavior, I ought to be doing all I can to drive the staff up the walls while plotting my escape.” He reaches over to pat Spock’s leg. “Maybe I’ll seduce this innocent little Vulcan over here into helping me. You were always so good at that!”
Jim clearly can’t hold himself together a second longer. When the man bursts out laughing, Leonard breaks into a broad grin.
Spock removes McCoy’s hand from his leg and drops it back to the bed. “If you two have finished, I would like to discuss our recommendations for Command concerning the holodeck.”
Jim pulls a chair over to McCoy’s bed, dropping into it with a more somber expression. “If I have any say, there won’t be one on my ship.”
Leonard looks to him, a bit stunned. “Jim, that’s a hard line to draw.”
“You conducted what should have been a simple evaluation and almost died, Bones.”
“That same technology helped save my life!”
“I don’t care. Let the next captain of the Enterprise deal with it.”
Leonard isn’t happy to hear it, despite knowing he will likely feel the heebie-jeebies anytime he is near a holodeck again. Turning to Spock, he asks, “What do you think?”
“Both your points are valid.”
“We’re asking for your opinion,” Jim counters calmly.
That is all the reminder Spock apparently needs to be assured he doesn’t have to cater to their egos despite being married. The Vulcan balances the padd on his leg and fixes Kirk and McCoy with a mild look. “I am inclined to believe the use of the holodeck is inevitable. Holotechnology may not be sufficiently safe to employ this year, and in all likelihood not for several years, but the purpose of its design cannot be lightly dismissed. It is more than a mere recreational tool, else a medical study of its effects on the body and psyche would not have been necessary. Properly programmed and in keeping with engineering and safety standards, it shall unquestionably have a place in our future. Yet the ways in which the holotechnology will change our service, I believe we cannot predict with absolute certainty… but the thought is fascinating.”
“Well,” says Leonard, “who’s going to argue with that logic?”
Spock cocks his head at the doctor as if he does, in fact, expect Leonard to try.
Jim nods once. “Then it’s settled. We offer a cautiously optimistic report but indicate we think the code needs to be re-evaluated and held to more rigorous standards before public use.”
“Do you think they’ll take the prototype completely apart?” Leonard wonders, remembering the child-like A.I. pontificating about its own demise. “Wouldn’t that destroy what already exists?”
Jim’s hand falls over Leonard’s, his thumb sweeping gently across the doctor’s knuckles. “I wish I knew how to answer that.”
Spock tilts his head consideringly. “In the report, it would be reasonable to include a gentle reminder of a basic tenet of Starfleet: the preservation of life, even that which we do not fully understand yet must accept we have played a part in creating.”
“Look at you,” Leonard says fondly of the Vulcan. “Still sticking up for computerized lifeforms everywhere. Did I tell you, Spock, that A.I. reminded me an awful lot of you? I would swear it was your kin!”
“You must still be feeling unwell, Doctor,” rejoins Spock. “You expressed genuine appreciation for a computer.”
Leonard retorts, “The only computer I like is you, you pointy-eared hobgoblin!”, snaking out an arm in hopes to flick one of those ears before Spock can stop him, but of course the Vulcan deftly catches his hand.
“Thank you.” Spock brushes against McCoy’s wedding ring before slowly rubbing their fingers together.
“Is this a party anybody can join?” Jim chimes in.
“Only the second spouse,” replies Spock at the same time McCoy says, “Get over here.”
“Why am I second?” questions an amused Kirk as he scoots closer.
“You didn’t think you’d be more important than me, did you!” clucks Leonard.
“You are both equally important,” Spock states serenely.
Kirk and McCoy share a look of mischief.
“Bones, I think I require proof.”
“Seconded. It’d be all too easy for Spock to wiffle-waffle over which of us is his favorite.”
“Wiffle-waffle?”
“A very important Human term regarding relationships, Spock.” The twinkle in Jim’s eye belies his serious tone.
Spock’s eyebrows lift towards his hairline but there too is a distinct sparkle to his dark eyes, the Vulcan having learned long ago to take any ‘helpful explanations’ from Jim or Leonard in stride.
Leonard jumps in, “You see, when you wiffle, it’s Jim you like better. When you were waffle, it’s me.”
“Then I must inform you that it is not my nature to wiffle or waffle when in fact, logically speaking, neither of you has qualities that sufficiently outshine the other’s to invoke the wiffle-waffle.”
Leonard howls with laughter until a nurse comes running.
“Beaten at our own game,” Jim grumbles in mock-despair as he is hustled out of the way by the nurse trying to figure out why his patient is hysterical.
Leonard bats a medical scanner away. “Jim, I guess our strategy was defunct from the beginning. Spock’s lived with us too long to be fooled!”
Jim considers the Vulcan pretending to ignore them by reading from his padd again. “But I do believe he enjoys the game, Bones.”
McCoy winks at Kirk. “Don’t embarrass him in front of the staff.” Then, with the corners of his blue eyes crinkling with happiness, he tilts his chin up with a hint of challenge. “But feel free to embarrass me, oh captain, my captain.”
His gaze mirroring the same happiness, Jim leans across the bed to kiss him soundly.
Spock puts his data padd down, all pretense at disinterest gone.
And the nurse, to save his own sanity and the rest of the medical ward’s, activates a privacy screen and quickly makes himself scarce.
The End
Related Posts:
- Follow Me Dark – from November 30, 2023
- Say a Little Prayer – from November 10, 2021
- Twist and Take – from October 31, 2021
- Clear from the Battle (But Not the War) – from October 11, 2021
- Consider Me Accounted For – from October 3, 2021
