0Title: Holding Fast (4/5)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: A diplomatic mission goes wrong. With Kirk’s life hanging in the balance, McCoy and Spock are forced to hold the Enterprise—and each other—together long enough to save him.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
The summons reaches them not through official fanfare but by Sulu entering the bridge with a look so intent it stills the light gossip between Uhura and Scotty. Scotty fully extracts himself from the guts of the communications console to stand at attention beside her. Chekov spins around from the helm. Sulu goes straight to Spock in the captain’s chair, just where Leonard happens to be as well. Everyone is keen to hear what Sulu has to say.
“Ascendant has begun the evacuation protocol,” he informs them, and for one reckless second Leonard’s heart kicks with relief. “And in the first nine minutes of execution, a Kairon saboteur disabled their primary transport buffer and took half their internal sensors with it.”
Scotty thumps the side of the console with the repair tool in his hand. Uhura’s disturbed expression matches the silence on the bridge.
Briefly, McCoy and Spock’s eyes meet, a mutual acknowledgement of what Sulu has not said but is irrefutable. The tribunal’s denial has simply put on a different uniform and returned to mock them. Optics over lives; procedure over blood.
Sulu’s sigh breaks the silence. “I called one of my sources when our courier contact pulled out. You should also know that starbase traffic control has clamped down on all civilian departures toward the sector. Even if I could get us a ship, we’d lose too much time transferring equipment.”
“How extensive is the damage aboard the Ascendant?” Spock asks.
“Bad enough that Command has frozen the surface withdrawal until they can verify there isn’t additional sabotage in the evac chain.”
“They’ll retreat,” Leonard surmises, “and defer to the protocol for containment and reassessment.” He presses his mouth flat in dismay. “In other words, while they stall, people are waiting for a rescue that may never come.” Hearing the bitterness in his own voice, he wishes for a moment that everyone’s attention was not on him. He’s never been good at hiding negative emotions.
He looks to Spock, then, expecting some of that old caution, that measured insistence on sequence and authorizations. Instead, he finds the Vulcan sitting unnaturally still, hands gripping the arms of the captain’s chair. This isn’t the deep well of anger from when they first saw the evidence of Kirk’s predicament on the viewscreen. It is the posture of someone holding themselves back by force while coming to a conclusion which lacks decent alternatives.
Rejection by Command seems to have burned away the last, fragile layer of restraint between them—not in conflict, but in purpose. Leonard sees now he no longer needs to argue, to push, to drag the truth into the open. Within Spock’s gaze, the truth is already there.
“Optics,” Leonard says quietly, “are going to get people killed.” It’s most likely a death sentence for Jim.
“Yes,” Spock replies, without a lecture or deflection. “Which is why the present circumstances materially alter our obligations.”
Scotty hurries over so fast that McCoy thinks the man might have pulled a muscle. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Spock steps down from the center of the bridge to its front, turning to face all of them. Whatever strain has marked him these past days has condensed into something honed and dangerous. “It means that the Enterprise will continue preparations for the medical evacuation that Command interrupted. We are capable of preventing a mass-casualty event. While there are nearer vessels to Sular V, likely they have not been made aware of the situation. Whether or not our superiors find the fact convenient, the Enterprise is best suited to act.”
The room does not erupt. There are no cheers, no reckless declarations, only the subtle collective shift of officers who already made their choice days ago and are relieved at last to stop pretending otherwise.
“Skeleton crew only,” Spock continues. “We will not advertise this departure. Mr. Scott, prioritize engines, shields, and transporter reliability for medical retrieval. Lieutenant Uhura, maintain external silence except on private frequencies and direct command channels. Lieutenant Sulu, flight operations. Mr. Chekov, tactical support and internal security. Doctor McCoy, ensure Sickbay can absorb both convoy casualties and emergency overflow.”
The trust in Spock’s voice rings clear. No more hints of be useful somewhere I can keep an eye on you. Simply, everyone must be where they are needed most, McCoy included.
Leonard drawls, “You keep them breathing long enough to get them aboard, and I’ll take it from there.”
Dark eyes meet his. “That,” Spock says, “was always my intention.”
Even so, Spock does not say they are disobeying Command’s mandate to stand down. He does not need to.
“We will obey our orders, Captain,” Leonard continues on in his best formal tone. At the helm, Chekov takes on a grin while Sulu’s face twitches as if hiding one. “The Enterprise will render medical aid, preserve lives, and avoid any unnecessary escalation.”
Nobody points out that Jim Kirk is now included in Leonard’s definition of lives worth preserving, or in what Spock will categorize as necessary escalation. Among the Enterprise’s officers, the understanding passes almost visibly from face to face: they are going to Sular, they are going to save the convoy, and if Captain James T. Kirk happens to be rescued in the process, then the universe itself can answer for the coincidence.
~~~
Leonard considers himself skilled at his work (even occasionally a miracle worker), but it is not recommended for one man alone to run a triage center. The medical staff he calls in are professional enough not to complain about the abrupt end to their shore leave and comfortable enough in his presence to say he looks like death warmed over. He ignores that opinion and provides an abridged summary of what exactly the Enterprise will be flying into.
By the time the ship slips free of dock under a maintenance pretext no one will bother to examine too closely, Leonard is pretending his hands are steadier than they are. Sweat gathers uncomfortably at the base of his neck despite the bay’s cool, regulated temperature. He tells himself it is the pace of preparation, the sprint from one biobed to the next, the constant reviewing of triage priorities and surgical readiness. That explanation fools absolutely no one.
His head nurse says nothing for the first half hour, which is how Leonard knows she has noticed. M’Benga notices too, though he confines himself to quietly increasing the speed at which emergency packs are stacked and sealed. Even the most junior tech among them has picked up on the chief medical officer’s tension. It moves through Sickbay like static, making everyone quicker, sharper, and more silent.
Leonard hates that they can read him so easily. He hates even more that they are right to. The Enterprise is headed toward a crisis that keeps changing shape, and somewhere inside that crisis is Jim—injured and hopefully still stubbornly alive, and almost certainly planning to make everything worse the first chance he gets.
Leonard primes the surgery area, reviews trauma protocols, then reviews them again because his mind will not stay still long enough to trust the first pass.
“You’ll wear a trench into the deck,” M’Benga remarks at last, not unkindly.
“Then be grateful I’m pacing here instead of the bridge,” he snaps back.
That earns him the ghost of a smile. “Go, then. We’ve got this for the time being.”
On principle, he should protest, except the truth is McCoy has already been thinking about the bridge. There is a plan within the plan, one Spock relayed to him only after they were underway: Sulu and Chekov will take a shuttle on approach. The duo’s mission is to scout the convoy’s last known corridor for survivors and determine whether there is a viable path into the Kairon encampment. If the opening exists, they are to mark it and hold position.
Spock ultimately bears the responsibility for sending out security reinforcements to that position. Leonard knows Spock won’t hesitate to do it. The excuse will be the humanitarian campaign they have thrown so much weight behind. Rescuing Jim is a precision extraction tucked inside it like a blade in a boot.
It will likely cost Spock his career. Leonard has decided to resign in solidarity—not that it’s any business of that stubborn Vulcan of his. In this scenario, Leonard is no fool; better to ask forgiveness later than to ask permission.
With a quick thanks to M’Benga, McCoy wipes his damp palms on the sides of his uniform and heads for the turbolift.
~~~
The bridge is quieter than usual, even for a skeleton crew; it’s like a breath being held, waiting for release.
At first glance, the scene feels eerily like that first terrible viewing of the Kairon’s message: Spock at the center and Scotty standing to one side, hiding the depth of his nerves, the stars stretched cold and indifferent across the viewscreen. But the resemblance ends there.
This time, when Leonard steps up beside the captain’s chair, Spock flicks off the screen of the padd balanced on the chair arm and welcomes him with “Doctor. Sickbay is prepared?”
“As prepared as I can make it without having my patients delivered by divine intervention.” McCoy folds his arms, then unfolds them again when he realizes how defensive the pose may look. “Is the scouting party gone?”
“Three minutes ago. They are maintaining comm silence unless contact becomes necessary.” A beat passes. Then, Spock says more quietly: “Your pulse is elevated.”
Leonard turns a glare on him. Even from a quick glimpse during his approach, that chart on the padd had seemed familiar to him. So, now he has confirmation of exactly what Spock was looking at. The audacity!
“Last I checked,” he growls, “monitoring crewmen health readouts is my job. Unless you’re itching to be CMO on top of everything else, Mr. Spock?”
“I did not intend criticism.” Spock fully faces him then, and the severity Leonard has come to expect is absent. “An observation only. You need not pretend composure on my account.”
It is such a simple thing to say that Leonard almost misses its significance: Spock caring about his well-being, offering support.
The knot that has been in Leonard’s chest all day loosens. “That’s good, because I’m about one bad report away from sweating through this uniform.”
Something shifts in Spock’s expression, not quite amusement but close enough to be taken for warmth. Then the Vulcan lifts one hand and places it lightly against Leonard’s forearm.
There is no violent surge of shared emotion this time, no crack in either man’s control. The contact is perfectly steady—and devastating in its familiarity.
Leonard looks down at Spock’s hand, feeling his heart rate increase for a reason far removed from anxiety. Him, a grown man, having butterflies in his stomach over a simple touch! It rocks him while still seeming inevitable.
Very softly, Spock promises, “We will bring him home.”
Leonard manages a rough “You’d better” before it catches in his throat.
He swears he will never admit to anyone even on pain of death that it’s freeing to let Spock prop him up for once. What a fool he was before, fighting with Spock all this time instead of trusting him.
Spock’s eyes are glinting with amusement when he releases Leonard’s arm. A smile curves McCoy’s lips.
And behind the pair, Uhura’s console chirps, stealing the rest of the moment. Every officer on the bridge turns toward it.
“Incoming burst transmission,” she relays. “Encrypted with our field key. It’s Sulu.”
“On screen,” Spock orders.
The viewscreen resolves not into Sulu or Chekov’s image but into a jerky forward shuttle visual of a strip of sandy ground lined by a rocky outcrop. Two figures break from the cover of the boulders at a dead run.
McCoy takes half a step forward before his mind catches up with what he is seeing. Off to the side, Scotty lets out a little cry of surprise.
One of those figures is unmistakable even in torn gold and dried blood. Jim is waving both arms over his head like a man hailing a caravan instead of escaping a hostage camp. With his free hand, he appears to be manhandling a furious Kairon commander along by the back of his armor.
Sulu’s voice arrives half a second later, strained between disbelief and laughter. “Bridge, we’ve found the Captain. Correction—the Captain has apparently found us. Request immediate pickup for two, one cooperative and one very much not.”
“Jim!”
Leonard’s cry echoes around the bridge.
Spock rises to his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. “Bring the Captain and our guest aboard, Mr. Sulu.”
Wordlessly and in tandem, Spock and McCoy exit the bridge and head for the shuttle bay. At long last, the waiting is over.
~~~
What is it with people treating the flagship’s medical bay like a thoroughfare?
Leonard steps into the private recovery room and barely checks his own stride at the sound of laughter. Its source is the only two occupants, who lean in close together as if sharing a secret.
“Chekov!” he barks. “Who let you in here? Are you interrogating my patient?”
“No, no!” insists Chekov, stepping back from said patient.
Leonard says dryly, “And here I thought you were running auditions for another parental figure.”
With a squeak of embarrassment followed by a goodbye that is mostly gibberish, Chekov hightails it out of Sickbay, leaving Jim Kirk bemused in his wake.
“What did you do to him, Bones?” Kirk wants to know.
“When the crew starts sassing back at me, they get what they deserve.” He casts a practiced eye over the stats on the biobed’s monitor. “You’re barely eking out of the dehydration. Headache?”
Jim makes a non-committal noise, which is confirmation enough for McCoy. He makes a minor adjustment to an already minimal dosage of painkillers (since Kirk generally refuses medication on principle but always fails to out-stubborn McCoy on the matter) and picks up Kirk’s wrist to check his pulse out of habit rather than necessity.
Jim doesn’t seem to mind the touch, and for that, Leonard is grateful. It grounds him to feel blood flowing through Jim’s veins. He never takes it for granted anymore.
“Bones.”
“Hm?”
“Spock recommended you take a break. Says you’ve been awake longer than anyone on board.”
Oh, that sneaky bastard. “Spock must be excluding himself from that observation.”
“So you both take a nap.” Jim looks pleased with himself all of a sudden. “I could make it an order.”
“Don’t threaten me in my own Sickbay, Captain.”
“With that level of grumpiness, I really should.”
“We’re grown adults who can damn well decide when we need sleep, Jim!”
Jim nods knowingly—and starts to swing his legs off the biobed. “I’m a grown adult too, wow, so I guess discharging myself is no pro—”
Leonard is on him in a heartbeat, pressing Kirk back into the bed with nearly the full weight of his body. Their faces are close enough that their noses almost touch. Jim’s eyes have blown wide.
Leonard only clocks how inappropriate their position is when a voice chimes from behind him, “Am I interrupting?”
Oh no. Damn, damn, damn! Could this day get any more off script?
McCoy straightens up and shoots a glare over his shoulder at Spock. “You’re incredibly light-footed, Mr. Spock. Vulcans must have descended from cats.”
“Why, thank you, Doctor. Felines, in general, are remarkable creatures.”
Leonard bites back a retort because Spock will be more useful on his side. Switching subjects, he says, “Our captain here was able to take himself up to the bridge without his physician’s leave.”
“I see.” Spock tilts his head slightly as he studies Kirk, still sprawled on the bed in a daze. “Is delusion a possible side effect of his current treatment, Doctor?”
“For Jim, it’s a constant state of mind,” Leonard smirks, folding his arms to peer down at the man in question. “We’ll have to extend the period of observation, I’m afraid.”
Kirk closes his eyes and groans. “I don’t think escaping an enemy base should be easier than a medical bay on my own ship.”
Spock seems to take pity on him. “Your physical presence is not required on the bridge at this time. Nonetheless, you are still captain of this ship.”
Spock had waited to return command to Jim until the moment Leonard’s evaluation cleared Jim of any serious injuries or lasting harm. They both knew that was the key to accelerating Kirk’s recovery rate, by returning to Jim his sense of duty, however informal it is from a functional perspective. Spock is still clocking the hours of an acting captain. Maybe the Vulcan does need a nap, thinks Leonard.
Spock’s “I have an update if you wish to hear it” is clearly the tease it’s meant to be.
Jim sits up quickly, alert and waiting. “Report.”
Since neither man tells McCoy to leave, he settles on the edge of Kirk’s bed.
“A new Chancellor for the Kairon has been appointed. The Chancellor promptly and publicly denounced the actions of the faction that attacked and harmed members of the delegation party. Our prisoner has been informed that he has been officially remanded into our custody and will be transported to stand trial at the nearest starbase for his crimes, along with those under his command, against the Federation.”
“Thrown under the bus,” mutters Leonard, “how surprising.”
“He will serve his time,” Jim says grimly.
Since Jim is one of the key witnesses to the brutality enacted upon their people, Leonard does not doubt the outcome. Command may be working hard to keep certain proceedings hushed, but they will never accept less than a sentencing that balances out the injustice.
Thinking of Command, however, has the effect of giving Leonard his own headache. Jim looks at the doctor in concern when McCoy massages his temples.
Might as well face the truth sooner rather than later, he decides. “So,” he starts, aiming for casual, although his tone still sounds forced, “what’s the verdict for us?”
Spock’s composed stare meets his. “I am not privy to that outcome.”
Leonard nods and looks away. If he isn’t chucked into a penal colony himself, he thinks his family might accept him home despite being jobless and freshly stripped of his good standing and reputation.
Kirk thumping his fist against the pillow of his bed breaks through McCoy’s morose thoughts. “Stop worrying, both of you. They’ll have to go through me. I was very clear on that point.”
Leonard frowns. “When’d you have time to comm with the Powers That Be?”
Suddenly, Jim rearranges himself against his abused pillow, looking like he hadn’t just flashed his temper. “Oh, it wasn’t me, Bones! The President herself called me personally to check on my recovery. Our chat was… enlightening and, by the end, I would say we were well-aligned.”
The butterflies in Leonard’s stomach generally show up when Jim has started some trouble. Like right now.
“Keeping quiet is the best course forward for everyone involved. Otherwise, could you imagine the PR nightmare if something leaked?”
For situations like this, Leonard always has a quick remedy in his pocket. As Kirk pauses for a breath, Leonard unearths the hypospray and, swift like a viper, jabs it into his idiot patient’s neck.
Jim jerks back and yowls, covering the side of his neck with both hands. “What the hell, Bones! Was that necessary?!”
“Hopin’ I can cure stupidity.” Leonard strokes his hypospray with mock sadness. “But even modern medicine can’t remedy your case.”
“Quite astute of you, Doctor.” Spock watches Kirk, who makes a show of grumbling and pouting while generally trying but failing to hold a glare against either of them.
The intercom near the corner of the wall beeps. Uhura’s voice follows. “Mr. Spock, report to the bridge.” Then, a heartbeat later, “That is, if you three are done playing around.”
Spock raises an eyebrow.
Leonard says knowingly, “Knew it, eyes and ears everywhere. Lord help us.”
Jim sighs with exaggeration, his happiness undisguised, and says, “It’s good to be home.”
Related Posts:
- Holding Fast (5/5) – from June 18, 2026
- Holding Fast (3/5) – from June 18, 2026
- Holding Fast (2/5) – from June 18, 2026
- Holding Fast (1/5) – from June 18, 2026
