The Real McCoy
Most days Lieutenant Uhura, chief communications officer of the Starship Enterprise loved her job. Most days. But, not today. "Oh, brother. Here we go again," she thought.
"Mr. Spock, that man is hailing us again from the planet. This is the sixth time in the past two hours, sir." She worked at keeping the irritation out of her voice. "He still insists that he's Dr. Leonard McCoy and demands to be put through to the captain. Actually, he keeps referring to the captain as Jim. He has no ID, no orders, and refuses to undergo DNA identification. Perhaps if you spoke to him, sir?"
The Vulcan lifted his head from the report that he was reviewing. Spock was analyzing the status of emergency medical supplies currently being uploaded from the planet Rigel Four. He was a little surprised by the interruption, since Uhura generally handled this sort of thing on her own. Apparently, this fellow was unusually persistent.
"On screen, Lieutenant."
Lieutenant Uhura slid a switch and flipped a toggle. The view of Rigel Four faded. It was replaced with the image of a very dirty man wearing civilian clothing that hung loosely on his thin frame. More than the beginnings of a beard obscured the lower half of his face. Robin's egg blue eyes saved the man's face from seeming ordinary. They seemed to pierce the grime on his grizzled face as he glared at the comm screen. When he spoke a jarring combination of slow southern drawl and angry rant reverberated on the bridge.
"What kind of garbage is this? I demand to speak to Jim. You tell him that Leonard McCoy is here, and I need to talk to him. For the umpteenth time, I ...ah...well let's say I lost my orders, damnit... and my ID. How am I supposed to prove who I am, if you won't let me speak to the one person on that blasted ship who knows me?"
As he spoke the man's face seemed to turn a deep shade of purple under the dirt.
"If that young captain of yours is too full of himself to talk me, then you just remind him I'm supposed to become his new doctor, and I know how to give an exam that'll make him sorry he wouldn't take my hail. He won't be able to sit down in that command chair of his for a week. I didn't come half way across the galaxy to put up with some arbitrary military nonsense."
Spock swiveled to face the communications officer. His normally impassive face almost seemed to twitch with annoyance. This person could not possibly be a Starfleet doctor. Spock intended to waste no more time on this matter. The Enterprise and her crew were engaged in an emergency medical mission. Time was critical, and this man was an unwanted distraction.
"Lieutenant Uhura, it is highly unlikely that the new chief medical officer of the Enterprise would appear on Rigel Four five days early and eight light years away from our assigned pick-up. As you have indicated, this person has no identification, no orders, and he refuses to allow the transporter to perform a DNA recognition scan. And, I might add, he hardly seems the sort to be the sort of person whom the captain would choose to be Dr. Piper's replacement. I do not believe that it is necessary to continue to take his hails. Tell him 'no'."
"Just no, sir?"
Spock's right eyebrow crept up beneath his hairline. "You may also tell this so-called doctor that we are prepared to call Rigellian security if he continues this harassment. Is that clear, Lieutenant?"
"Aye, sir."
Uhura gave a very unprofessional, but very understandable sigh.
"Mr. Spock, he does sound a bit like the Captain's description of Dr. McCoy. Perhaps if I called the captain? He knows the doctor personally. It's pretty unlikely this man's our new CMO but, why would anyone want to impersonate a Starfleet doctor? He'd be found out the first time he set foot in Sickbay. Besides, he has the names right."
Spock's other eyebrow threatened to join its mate.
"Lieutenant, anyone who has access to comm channels would know that the Enterprise is about to acquire the services of a new physician, and Captain Kirk's first name is also no secret. Since the captain is currently resting in his cabin, I will not disturb him to ask about some nuisance who is in all likelihood merely looking for a tour of the Enterprise."
Uhura swiveled back to her board and the first officer heard her tell the man that the Enterprise would no longer take his hails. The other bridge officers did their best to keep their faces bent down to their tasks. It wasn't often that they witnessed a frustrated Vulcan.
Mr. Spock returned to his review of loading procedures, however, he did not completely dismiss Lieutenant Uhura's words. She was an excellent officer. Her insight into human behavior had often proved valuable to him and he gave her considerable latitude to express those insights. On further evaluation, Spock decided that he was acting correctly. While it was true that they were scheduled to pick up a Dr. McCoy, he could not imagine that any Starfleet officer would present himself to his new ship such an unprofessional manner. It was inconceivable that this annoying and unprofessional person could be 'the best surgeon and diagnostician in the 'fleet' as Captain Kirk had described him.
He was certainly unwilling to bother the captain with this matter. Spock suspected that Captain Kirk was still suffering from the after effects of their unfortunate difficulties on Delta Vega. Mr. Spock had not been informed as to all of the events on that deserted planet, but some facts were indisputable. The captain had returned to the Enterprise, injured, visibly distressed, and alone. He left Lieutenant Commander Mitchell on the planet.
Dead.
Captain Kirk had filed a sealed report to Starfleet, and declined to speak of it to his officers.
Dr. Piper had put the captain on light duty while he recovered from the injuries he suffered on Delta Vega. Even when he returned the bridge full time, it seemed to Spock that he had still not physically recovered. When his first officer questioned him about this, the captain had smiled thinly and said, "I guess sometimes humans take longer to heal than Vulcans. I'll be fine, Spock. Just give me some time." This seemed consistent with what Spock understood of human physical frailties. And, after their discussion, the captain seemed to rally. That was until today.
Captain Kirk had left the bridge early in his shift, saying that he thought that he was coming down with some sort of 'bug'. After the first officer insisted that the pest detection protocols precluded any insect infestation onboard the Enterprise, Captain Kirk had explained with a shrug that 'bug' was the vernacular for a slight illness. With yet another demonstration of his unfamiliarity with human behaviors still fresh in his memory, Spock was reluctant to intrude on his captain for what was surely a hoax of some kind.
Lieutenant Uhura's voice broke through Spock's thoughts.
"I hope I'm not speaking out of turn, Mr. Spock, but I do wish that the real Doctor McCoy was on board. Before she beamed down to Starbase Eleven, Nurse Chapel seemed awfully concerned about Captain Kirk. She said that the captain hadn't seemed right to her since Delta Vega. She told me that she was uncomfortable about leaving him on the ship without any medical staff. Dr. Piper had to order her to join the rest of the Enterprise medical crew on Starbase Eleven. Christine said if the base hadn't been in a Code Four Emergency, she would have protested his orders on medical grounds."
At this Mr. Spock seemed to straighten in his seat. Nurse Chapel's comment seemed to mirror his own observations. Perhaps he had misread his captain yet again. His relationship with Captain Kirk was still new enough that he had difficulty interpreting his commanding officer's behavior. It had seemed curious to Spock that the captain had refused to discuss the events on Delta Vega. Spock had wondered about this, particularly since Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Commander Mitchell had been old and close friends. He had previously been led to believe that all humans were quite public in their expressions of grief. After a good deal of consideration, the first officer had decided with approval that Captain Kirk's response to loss was almost Vulcan-like in its control. Now he wondered if the captain was concealing something rather than controlling.
Kirk had served on the Enterprise for only a few months and the crew was still getting used to his style. Spock found this new captain to be quite different from Captain Pike, his previous commanding officer. With Captain Kirk, Spock found that he was often forced to search for sub-text that wasn't always apparent. That search had led Spock to make some fascinating leaps in tactics, and in his command skills, but it had also led to a few spectacular missteps too.
The Vulcan recalled with some discomfort the blunder he had made when he informed his new commanding officer that no human could be a satisfactory sparring partner for a Vulcan. Captain Kirk had grinned, changed into his gi, and in a most unorthodox manner, proceeded to throw his first officer three out of five times. When Mr. Spock tried to apologize for his remarks, the captain said to him that he should never apologize for being confident of his abilities. He said that space killed those who doubted themselves. It was better to be wrong than to be uncertain. Captain Pike had never have said such a thing to him. Nor would Captain Pike have forgiven the insult so easily.
Spock considered their situation. Four ship's days ago, a catastrophic explosion had rocked Starbase Eleven, and over ninety cases of severe coolant poisoning had overtaxed the base resources. The Enterprise, being the nearest ship, had responded to the emergency. Captain Kirk ordered every member of the Enterprise's medical staff to assist at the hospital, while most of their engineers and support staff beamed down to help in the task of repairing the Starbase.
With its hospital supplies rapidly depleting, Starbase Eleven was soon desperately short of Sytnatic, the only medication that was completely effective against coolant poisoning. The Enterprise was the logical ship to make the brief trip to the manufacturing facilities on Rigel Four to pick up new supplies of the drug. Captain Kirk decided to leave the Enterprise crew on the damaged Starbase. Dr. Piper expressed concern about the lack of medical staff onboard the Enterprise, but the captain overruled Piper's objections. The Enterprise was presently in orbit around that planet loading the medicine and other supplies the Starbase would need to rebuild.
Mr. Spock reflected that it was ironic that they found themselves on a medical mission. The Enterprise's medical department had already been in transition before the emergency. Whatever had happened on Delta Vega seemed to have shaken Dr. Piper badly, and he chose to retire from Starfleet earlier than planned. Captain Kirk had not seemed very surprised at this decision. He and Piper seemed somewhat estranged after the events on Delta Vega. Captain Kirk agreed to Dr. Piper's early retirement and recommended a doctor that he had known on Terra as his replacement. This doctor had saved both Mitchell's and the captain's lives some years before and Captain Kirk thought highly of his abilities. Leonard H. McCoy had excellent professional credentials though he had never before served on a Starfleet ship. The captain brushed aside Spock's concerns about the new doctor's limited military experience.
"I trust McCoy, Spock," he had said. " He's got a healer's hands and heart. There's not a more talented doctor in all of Starfleet. More than that, he's not afraid to challenge authority, and he's got a genuine talent for pointing out a person's weaknesses. I need someone who's not afraid to challenge me when he thinks I'm wrong. I think he'll be good for the Enterprise." The captain's voice softened, "and for me." Kirk had turned his back to the Vulcan, who observed the tension in the bunching muscles of his back. There was silence for a moment as neither man was sure how to proceed. Then, inexplicably, Captain Kirk had chuckled. "You're going to have to be on your toes around McCoy, Spock. His tongue can be as sharp as his laser scalpel. In the end though, he's a good man and a fine doctor. I think you two could be friends."
At this, Spock lifted an eyebrow. He did not want to contradict his captain, but this Doctor McCoy sounded too undisciplined for his liking. However, he decided to reserve judgement until they had the opportunity to serve together.
Captain Kirk knew well that Dr. McCoy was not particularly eager to begin a career aboard a starship, but, with a combination of charm and forcefulness, the captain had persuaded him to accept the commission. Uhura presided over a blizzard of communications between Starfleet, McCoy, and the Enterprise with her customary efficiency, and Dr. McCoy's orders came through quickly. He would arrive on Arcturus by scheduled Starfleet transport, relieve Dr. Piper, and assume the duties of Chief Medical Officer.
This thought reminded Spock of the rather unpleasant threat made by the man on Rigel Four. There was simply no good reason why Dr. McCoy would show up eight light years away from his scheduled port, early, without orders or any form of identification. And, there was no explanation that Spock could think of why a Starfleet doctor would refuse to use the transporter to perform a DNA scan. This person on Rigel Four was clearly a fraud. The Enterprise had seen more than a few charlatans who had tried all sorts of devious methods to get aboard the ship. It was a point of pride with her crew that none had so far been successful. Spock put the imposter out of his mind and resumed his work. He hoped to finish loading supplies in six hours. With an eighteen-hour trip back to the Starbase at warp five, Spock calculated that ninety-eight point six percent of the burn victims should still be alive and able to benefit from the Syntactic.
Lieutenant Uhura signaled his attention again. "Mr. Spock. I am sorry, I know you said not to answer anymore of his hails, but that person who says he's the new doctor is now willing to do a transporter scan. But only onboard the Enterprise." She was getting very tired of having her own work constantly interrupted. Still, she couldn't completely shake the feeling that this just might be the man Captain Kirk had described as 'a bit eccentric and not very regulation.' "It wouldn't take very much time to do the scan, and then we would know for certain. Should I put him on screen?"
Spock put down his report with exaggerated care. He paused in thought then nodded once. He was certain that this was a hoax, however he was also aware that he sometimes made mistakes about the norms of human behavior. Uhura did seem to want to give the man the benefit of the doubt. It was unlikely that he was mistaken, but it cost little to give this person one last chance to make his case.
That amazing drawl filled the bridge. "You tell Jim if he insists, I'll do it. I'll use the damned transporter, but I want to use the one he does. If it's good enough for the blasted Captain of the Enterprise, then I guess I might try the cursed thing. I didn't go through hell getting here to cool my heels on this pathetic excuse for a planet. I suppose this is some damn silly military nonsense." There was a pause. When he resumed, the man's voice seemed even angrier, if that was possible. "On the other hand, if this is Jim's idea of a practical joke, I'll make him pay. I'll put him on a diet so bland that salt will seem spicy. His workout schedule will be so tough that his bruises will have bruises. He'll be in my Sickbay undergoing physical exams in orifices that haven't even been invented yet." Uhura looked uncomfortable. She didn't much care for threats, particularly against her captain.
Spock listened to this insubordinate tirade in disbelief. There was simply no way that a Starfleet doctor would speak this way. He clearly was a con man, trying to bluff his way onto the ship, one way or another. Spock no longer had any doubts. "Lieutenant, call planetary security and have them take this man into custody for impersonating a Starfleet officer." There. That should get rid of the problem.
Captain Kirk's description of the new CMO had been 'colorful', and for another instant Lieutenant Uhura wondered if they should take this strange man at his word, but she too found it impossible to believe that a senior officer could threaten Captain Kirk like that. They had run into their share of hustlers. This man was probably just one more. She did as she was ordered, and several minutes later she was able to inform Mr. Spock that the man had been taken into custody. The bridge officers returned to their work. They would all be glad to leave for Starbase Eleven. Uhura hoped that they would be in time to help the coolant victims, and she hoped that the real Doctor McCoy would arrive on Arcturus as scheduled.
******
Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, highly accomplished physician and surgeon, late of the Starfleet Hospital staff on Terra, currently assigned to take up duty as the Chief Medical Officer on board the Enterprise, found himself locked up in a Rigellian jail. It was the perfect ending to a perfectly awful week. McCoy supposed, if he wanted to be completely honest, that he was responsible for some of his own troubles. He had bypassed his authorized transportation and talked his way into an unsanctioned ride with a medical ship, the Salk. The Salk was commanded by an old classmate, and they had spent their time catching up. His ride had taken him as far as Rigel Four, where a trader had offered him a quick trip to Arcturus.
He should have smelled a rat. When would he learn not to be so trusting? Maybe waking up in an alley with no luggage, no money, no identification, and no orders would finally cure him of that particular quirk. Actually, he was probably lucky to have woken up at all.
Fortunately, the trader hadn't done any serious damage, other than to his pride and his wallet. Well, he had stolen that very old and very rare bottle of Saurian brandy that McCoy had planned to share with his new commanding officer. McCoy had introduced Kirk to that particular brand of poison the night they'd celebrated Kirk's discharge from the hospital. Probably just as well it was stolen. After Kirk's cold shoulder McCoy doubted whether he'd even want to share a drinkwith him. This certainly wasn't the reception that he had expected. ID, or no ID. Why wouldn't Jim even talk to him?
When he found himself without papers or money, the doctor had reported to the Federation consulate. McCoy had balked at an ID transporter scan, so they had been unwilling to do anything for him. The Salk had already left orbit and there was no one on Rigel to vouch for him. The doctor hadn't gotten much help from the local police either. He hitched a ride to the spaceport, hoping to trade his medical services for a lift to Arcturus, perhaps with a shipmaster who wasn't as scrupulous as Starfleet about identification. He had been sure that as soon as he talked to Jim Kirk on the Enterprise, all this ID nonsense would straighten itself out. At the spaceport, McCoy had been surprised and delighted to find that the Enterprise was actually in orbit around the planet. He even talked the portmaster into letting him use the comm. It had seemed that something was finally going right. That was until he couldn't get past that Vulcan.
First the communications woman, and then that iceberg of a first officer, Mr. Spock, insisted that without identification or Starfleet orders, McCoy would have to undergo a transporter DNA scan. That had an unpleasantly familiar ring. It seemed that everyone in the galaxy wanted to scramble his atoms. If he had to be really honest about it, McCoy might admit that maybe, just maybe, they weren't being completely unreasonable. The transporter scan really was the only proof of ID that could not be tampered with. Blood, saliva, retinal scans, all could be faked. When a person had to prove his or her identity without any doubt the only recourse was a transporter, which scanned a person down to his or her component molecules. That, as far as McCoy was concerned was the problem.
He knew that there were Starfleet regulations that insisted on such things. Starfleet had regulations for just about everything. McCoy had become adept at ignoring most of them. In actual fact, it wasn't really regulations that disturbed him. What bothered the doctor was the fact that he hated the transporter with every fiber of his being. As a scientist, and a physician, McCoy knew just how complex the human body was. He had a hard time believing that some damned machine could possibly break down every component of his being, and put it back together exactly right. McCoy couldn't shake the slightly unscientific fear that one time when he went through that damned transporter process, he would materialize inside out. Or, backwards. Or, as a pile of bones. The transporter was a big reason that he had been really reluctant to join Jim Kirk on the Enterprise. On Earth it had been pretty easy to finagle a ride on a shuttle when he had to go somewhere. It wouldn't be so simple on the Enterprise.
He supposed that he had gotten a little out of hand, threatening Jim like that. But, he'd been so damn mad. There was something about that cool Vulcan demeanor that made him want to rant like a madman. He'd taken one look at that Mr. Spock and his mouth had run away with his brain, as his Georgia grandmother used to say. Jim had told him about the Vulcan. Even said that he thought they could be friends. Friends! He'd have an easier time making friends with an Aldebran slime mold.
So, here he was, Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, Commander, MD, Ph.D. etc., etc., cooling his heels in jail. What a mess. Why on earth had he agreed to this assignment on the Enterprise in the first place? He wasn't even onboard the stupid ship and he already hated it. He certainly hadn't asked for this job. He had seriously considered turning it down. It was only because of Jim Kirk that he took the job. That boy could persuade the stars to stop blinking if he had a mind to.
McCoy had sensed something special about Jim Kirk from the moment they met. Well, maybe not from the first moment, since Kirk had opened his eyes, clutched convulsively at his abdomen and proceeded to throw up all over McCoy's shoes. That was a pretty common reaction after waking up from the regen tanks, but the lieutenant commander had been mortified. He had apologized profusely. Kirk even tried to help clean up the mess. Only when he had nearly collapsed, unable to support himself on his still wobbly legs, would Jim Kirk agree to return to his bed and let the medical staff straighten up. There was something about that boy. Green as a leaf, shaking, and sweating from the after effects of regen, he stubbornly insisted on thinking about everyone else before himself. McCoy had been touched by his courtesy, and amazed at his tenacity.
That was certainly a far cry from his reaction to Kirk's friend Gary Mitchell. McCoy had heard the story of how Mitchell had saved Jim Kirk's life, but that was probably the only unselfish act that man had ever performed. All of the medical staff complained about Mitchell. He was arrogant and self centered. He had a mean streak in him that made him seek out others' vulnerability and exploit it. As he did with McCoy's fear of the transporter.
McCoy had actually confided this fear to Mitchell. The doctor came to regret that particular blunder. They had been talking about the strange dreams that were a common side effect of regeneration. McCoy had let slip that he sometimes dreamed of being caught in a transporter accident. In this dream he rematerialized with his bones on the outside of his body. Mitchell had mocked him mercilessly, and started calling him 'Bones'. McCoy hated it, but he could not get Mitchell to stop without giving him even more ammunition to use against him. One day, he finally decided that enough was enough. He went to Mitchell's room to confront him. Mitchell just looked him up and down, and McCoy could not shake the eerie feeling that his patient knew exactly what he was thinking.
"What's the matter, Bones?" he'd asked. "Can't you take a little good-natured ribbing?" The unpleasant sound of Mitchell's laugh had chilled him. There had been nothing good-natured about it. McCoy decided to take the path of least resistance and put up with the damned nickname. After all, Mitchell would soon be discharged and on his way.
To his dismay, Jim Kirk started to call him 'Bones', too. When Kirk asked McCoy about the name, he muttered some drivel about doctors being called 'Sawbones' in the old days. The doctor certainly wasn't going to reveal his fears to anyone else. Also, it didn't bother him as much when Kirk adopted Mitchell's nickname. When Jim called him 'Bones' he used the name with affection. When Mitchell called him 'Bones' it was a reflection of his cruelty.
The one person who never saw that cruel side of Gary Mitchell was Jim Kirk. Mitchell was really careful about his behavior around his friend. He seemed to need Kirk's approval, so he never showed him the more unpleasant aspects of his personality. Jim Kirk had that effect on most people. McCoy was aware that, cynical curmudgeon though he was, he found himself wanting to please the young officer. The remarkable thing was that Kirk was genuinely unaware of how people reacted to him. He could have been a manipulative bastard, like his friend Mitchell. He wasn't. McCoy could not think of another human who had touched him like Kirk did. When Jim Kirk turned out to be the youngest captain in the history of Starfleet, McCoy had not been a bit surprised.
The doctor, who was very well connected to Starfleet gossip mills, had heard about Gary Mitchell's death on Delta Vega. Mitchell and Jim Kirk had been friends since their days at the Academy. They had served together on the Farragut, and Mitchell had taken the brunt of the disrupter burn that had put them both in McCoy's hospital. Kirk had confided to McCoy that he owed his life to his friend. McCoy knew that Kirk would feel Mitchell's loss deeply. So, when Kirk said he needed him to join the crew of the Enterprise, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea, McCoy had let himself be persuaded.
McCoy thought that the youngest captain in Starfleet was going to be in need of a friend. Some friend. He couldn't even get aboard the damned ship. Jim wouldn't even talk to him. McCoy wondered what the hell was going on, and he wondered exactly how he was going to get himself out of this mess he found himself in. Without ID he couldn't get onboard the Enterprise and he couldn't go home. Since he didn't want to be stuck on Rigel forever, he had finally agreed to use the police scan.
The wheels of bureaucracy ground slowly and nothing happened for several hours. He'd used that time to reflect on the stupidity of accepting Kirk's offer. It seemed that he might have misjudged young Jim Kirk. The lieutenant commander that McCoy had helped though rehab would never have refused to take his hail. McCoy decided that he'd do what he had to do to get aboard the Enterprise just so that he could quit in person. That'd show Kirk. McCoy fumed. He raged. He worked himself into a state of righteous wrath. He was so angry that he did not hear the sound of steps approaching.
"I hear you've agreed to a scan?"
It was the Rigellian policeman who had locked him up in this rat trap.
"What?" McCoy started. "You're damn right. Let's get this thing over with, so I can get that Vulcan to let me onboard the Enterprise. I'll show them. I'm going to have the shortest shipboard career in Starfleet history. I can't wait to see Jim's face when I resign. Hah."
The policeman slid his key card though the slide that held the locked door in place. He thought that this was one strange Starfleet officer. But, then he'd seen all sorts.
"This won't hurt a bit," the Rigellian said with an insincere smile on his face.
"Don't use that on me, boy," growled the doctor. "I happen to be a physician. I've been lying with those very words since before your mother had you in diapers."
The policeman, who apparently found the whole situation vastly amusing, indicated that the doctor should follow him. McCoy walked slowly behind him, rather like a convict who faced the ultimate penalty. He stopped in front of the transporter, took a deep breath, and slowly dragged himself up the step to the pad.
"Any last words?" the policeman asked.
"Don't be so damn funny. Just get it over with."
It took only a few seconds to stand on the transporter pad and complete the scan. The doctor rematerialized and slowly, almost reluctantly he proceeded to check that all his vital body parts remained intact. He mouthed a silent thanks to whatever deity presided over scrambled atoms.
"Dr. Leonard H. McCoy." The metallic voice of the ID scanner confirmed the doctor's identity.
"Hah! At last." McCoy was triumphant. "Let me out of here. I've got a score to settle with the captain and the first officer of that damn tin can in orbit."
His former jailer smiled. "You better not call it that in front of the crew of the Enterprise. They are a pretty loyal bunch from what I've been told. I hear they don't take kindly to insults to their ship or to their captain."
McCoy snorted. "I'm just sorry I won't be around for their next physicals. Now are you going to help me call Jim Kirk, or not? They better send a shuttle for me. One trip through the transporter is one too many."
The Rigellian thought to himself, "This one wouldn't last long on a starship. It's probably a good thing he's resigning." He gestured to the comm panel. "I'll request a hail to the Enterprise, but Doctor, I would advise you to lose the attitude. Captain's don't usually put up with that kind of subordination."
The doctor thought that. "Humph. I wonder if my old office at Starfleet Medical is still available?" He seriously considered walking out of the jail and trying to find a ride back to Earth but first, he wanted the satisfaction of telling Jim Kirk to his face just exactly what he could do with his job.
******
At precisely 1600 hours Mr. Spock turned command over to Beta shift, gave Mr. Sulu the conn, and left the bridge. It had been a somewhat frustrating shift. He hadn't accomplished as much as he had planned because of the many interruptions. He still had a rather large amount of paper work to finish. However, the loading of the medical supplies was going well, and they should be able to leave orbit in less than two hours. He debated going straight to his cabin to get to work, but he could not ignore the concern about Captain Kirk expressed by Lieutenant Uhura. He could use the update on their time of departure to check on him. Spock detoured to his captain's quarters. He signaled his presence. There was no response. He waited a moment and signaled again. Again, there was no response.
Curious. If the captain had left his quarters it was odd that he had not come to the bridge. Spock walked over to the comm terminal on the wall near the captain's rooms. "Computer, locate Captain Kirk." The metallic voice of the computer replied immediately. "Captain Kirk is in his quarters."
That was very odd. Spock returned to the captain's door and signaled a third time. There was still no response. Spock thought for a moment. His strong sense of privacy made him reluctant to override the captain's lock, but he had no other choice. He keyed in the emergency override and entered. The lights were dimmed and even the Vulcan had difficulty seeing, but as his eyes adjusted Spock saw his captain sprawled atop his bed, apparently asleep. He approached the bed and put his hand on Kirk's shoulder to shake him awake. He was dismayed to find that the captain's body temperature seemed to be abnormally hot for a human. Sweat drenched Kirk's uniform and Spock could feel the captain's muscles cramping beneath his hand. This was not a normal sleep. He gently shook the captain.
Through teeth that chattered, the captain responded groggily. "What is it, Spock? Is something wrong? Are we underway, yet?"
"We will be underway in less than two hours. We should arrive at Starbase Eleven in time to help most of the affected personnel."
Through chattering teeth the captain responded, "Dr. Piper must be just about out of Syntactic. It will be good to get to the Starbase."
Spock could hear the effort in his captain's words. "You are ill, sir."
Captain Kirk sat up and tried to control the tremors that shook him. " I'm all right. It's just the flu." He attempted to smile at his first officer, but it turned into a wince.
Spock went to the comm panel on the captain's desk. He needed help. In spite of the captain's assurance, he thought that the symptoms he observed seemed more severe than those of a simple flu. Spock signaled the bridge. Although there were no medical personnel onboard, there were several crewmen who were skilled in first aid. They could assist him in caring for the captain until the ship arrived at Starbase Eleven. Mr. Sulu answered promptly. The normally serene voice of the helmsman seemed overlaid with concern as he replied to Spock's request for assistance.
"I can send you some help immediately, Mr. Spock, but I was just about the call you. The Rigel Four police have hailed us. I know it's hard to believe, but that man on the planet is in fact, Dr. McCoy. It seems that he had a mishap on the way to Arcturus and his papers were stolen. He went through their scan and there is no doubt as to his identity. He requests that we send a shuttle for him."
Spock allowed himself a twinge of annoyance at the presumption of their new CMO. "This man is impossible. Surely the captain can not be serious about his posting to the Enterprise." However, he allowed none of his skepticism to show when he answered Sulu.
" Please convey to him the captain's difficulties. I trust the doctor will not be reluctant to beam up when he is apprised of Captain Kirk's condition."
"Aye, sir. I'll explain the situation."
"Be brief, Mr. Sulu. The captain needs help now."
*****
A few minutes later, the door chimed. Spock opened the captain's door and was greeted by a scowling man with piercing blue eyes. He had not changed or cleaned up during his incarceration, and Spock still found it hard to believe that this disreputable looking creature was the new doctor. However, he allowed McCoy to enter because the captain's condition had worsened in the short time since Spock had found him.
The first words out of the doctor's mouth did nothing to allay Spock's concerns. "You must be the jackass who wouldn't let me talk to Jim. Why didn't you just say he was sick? I thought he didn't want to talk to me. If I'd known he was in trouble, I'd have used the blasted transporter scan and saved us all a lot of headaches," the doctor growled.
Mr. Spock was taken aback by this attack. "I, sir, am the first officer of the Enterprise, and you will address me in the appropriate manner. Dr. Leonard McCoy, I presume?"
"Who in blazes do you think I am? The Klingon Emperor? Now get out of the way, you pointy-eared menace. Jim needs help." McCoy darted past Spock. "Hey, Jim. What did you do to yourself now?" Spock was astonished to hear the change in the man's tone of voice when he spoke to his patient. McCoy sounded gentle and concerned. Quiet a contrast from the insubordinate tone he had taken with the first officer.
Captain Kirk looked up with bleary eyes. "McCoy, is that you? What are you doing here?" He looked the doctor up and down. "You look terrible." He lifted his head up from the bed to greet the doctor. As he tried to sit up, the captain turned an alarming shade of green. His lips compressed, he grabbed his stomach, and he threw up all over the doctor's shoes.
McCoy smiled, though his eyes showed his concern. "You really are going to have to figure out some other way to say hello, Jim. This is getting pretty old. Oh, and by the way, you look like hell yourself. What have you been up to?" The doctor put a hand on the captain's chest as he struggled to get off his bed. He thought in amusement that even though he was now a captain, Kirk still felt it necessary to try to clean up after himself. "I'll look after this. Don't you go anywhere. You just lie down, now."
To the doctor's surprise, Spock turned and went into the captain's head. He came back with a small bucket and a cloth and proceeded to clean up the mess. McCoy gave the Vulcan a long look, as if reconsidering his initial opinion of the first officer.
"Mr. Spock, is there a medikit in Jim's quarters? I seem to have...misplaced mine."
Wordlessly, Mr. Spock went back to the captain's head. He returned with a small kit. The doctor opened it quickly and pulled out a portable scanner. He ran the whirring instrument up and down the captain's body. McCoy looked at the indicators, frowned, then looked at his patient. "Where the blazes is the medical staff on this boat, Jim? You've picked up a nasty bug. I'm not completely sure what it is from this thing. Why aren't you in Sickbay?"
"The captain assured me that he was suffering from a case of the flu and did not require assistance," Spock replied.
"And you believed him? He'd tell you he's fine with his guts hanging around his knees. Now where're the medics? We need to get him to Sickbay. Now."
Spock actually seemed chagrined as he admitted to Dr. McCoy that there were no medical personnel onboard ship. He briefly explained the emergency on Starbase Eleven. McCoy looked grim. He suspected that Captain Kirk was suffering from far more than the flu. McCoy did not voice his suspicions, not wanting to alarm his patient. The doctor merely said, "Call someone and tell them to get a gurney up here on the double."
"No gurney, Spock, I can walk." the captain rasped.
"The doctor and I will assist you, Captain." Spock and McCoy exchanged a look that suggested they both understood the captain's unwillingness to allow his crew to see him carried through the ship. The two men slipped their arms around the captain and assisted him to his feet. He swayed and then found his balance. Together the three of them made their way slowly to Sickbay.
****
McCoy took one look around the Sickbay, clucked with annoyance at its empty state and indicated a diagnostic bed. Together, he and Mr. Spock half carried the dazed and sweating captain to the bed. With an efficiency that Spock found hard to reconcile with his crusty image, the doctor quickly had the diagnostic scanners hooked up. He ran a medical tricorder over Captain Kirk, muttering to himself. He motioned Spock away from the diagnostic bed.
"Flu, my ass. I'll flu him. He better not practice medicine without a license. Spock, who's the science officer on this damned bucket?"
Spock seemed to go rigid. "I am the science officer on the Enterprise. Why do you ask?"
The doctor snapped out, "Because your captain has choriomeningitis. That's why. And it's a strain I've never seen before. We're going to need to grow us a cure. And we're going to need to do it in a hurry. This damn bug's lethal if we don't treat it twenty-four hours after onset of symptoms. How long's he been like this?"
The Vulcan thought. "He complained of symptoms this morning at the beginning of Alpha shift. That would be nearly nine hours ago."
"Knowing Jim, he probably came to the bridge sick. We've maybe got twelve hours to grow a culture, figure out how to assassinate these bugs and get the cure into him. And, I haven't worked alone in a lab in a long time. I'm going to need some help and you're elected, Science Officer Spock."
"Are you certain of your diagnosis, Doctor McCoy? Is not choriomeningitis an exceeding rare illness?"
McCoy snapped, "Let's make a deal, Spock. I won't tell you how to run this tub and you don't tell me how to treat my patients." He checked his medical tricorder and ran it over the captain a second time. He swiftly and efficiently took several blood and tissue samples. "I need to get to the lab and check out the exact form of this bug, but I'm sure of my diagnosis. You call someone to watch him, then get your tail into the lab and help me. We're running out of time." The doctor returned to the captain's side, patted his arm reassuringly, and left for the medical lab.
The first officer called the bridge. He explained the situation to Mr. Sulu and requested that he send some help to Sickbay. As soon as help arrived, Spock hastened to the lab. There he found Dr. McCoy already deeply engrossed in the procedures necessary to grow the cultures that would help the captain.
"How may I assist you, Doctor?"
"You can start by helping me to grow the cultures from Jim's blood samples," the doctor answered without taking his eyes off the glass dishes in front of him. "Do you know how?"
"Affirmative, Doctor," responded the science officer. He moved to the lab table and stood behind Dr. McCoy. "How long do you anticipate it will be before we show results?"
"I'm a doctor, not a fortune teller, dammit."
"I believe your medical credentials are not longer in doubt, Dr. McCoy," replied Spock. "As to the latter, there is little call for those talents aboard a starship."
McCoy shot the Vulcan a long look, but could discern no hint of any humor in his solemn face. "Damn," he thought. "This could be fun. Spock could turn out to be a worthy opponent."
"Stop blabbering, and get to work Spock. That boy out there doesn't have time to waste."
Disturbed by the thought that he might indeed have been wasting valuable time, Mr. Spock responded, "I was merely inquiring as to the possible outcome of our search for a cure given the circumstances and factoring in random elements."
"Well, I can't factor in random elements, Spock. Medicine is as much an art as a science. Sometimes, in spite of all the science available to us, we just have to hope for some luck."
Spock did not answer immediately. When he did, he spoke so softly that at first McCoy did not think he heard correctly. "Then, Doctor, I wish us luck for the captain's sake."
McCoy looked over at the Vulcan who had bent to his task with ferocious concentration. "There's something special about Jim if even a Vulcan can see it," he thought to himself.
"You care what happens to him, don't you, Spock? Don't bother to deny it. You can try to hide behind your Vulcan facade, but I can tell that you're worried. That's okay. It'll make you careful. Now, take this culture and diffuse it with these four media...."
Spock said nothing. He merely took the dishes from Dr. McCoy and set to his task. Together, the two men worked in silence. Both were aware of the stakes if they failed. Neither one would admit it, but a grudging admiration began to develop as each observed the same careful professionalism in the other man.
From time to time McCoy would leave the lab to check on Captain Kirk. When he returned, Spock would look at him. McCoy would shake his head and they would return to work. Several hours of intense concentration seemed to produce little results. They worked on. Once, McCoy's voice broke the silence. "You know, Spock, choriomeningitis is generally transmitted through dermal puncture or blood-to-blood transfer. It can have a longish dormant phase, but it rarely lasts more than twenty-eight days before becoming virulent. I checked his medical records and he hasn't had a transfusion. So, it must have been transmitted by a skin perforation. Was Jim injured in the last month?"
Spock answered without looking up from his task. "On Delta Vega, Doctor. He was badly beaten."
McCoy remembered that name. "Delta Vega. That's where Mitchell died, isn't it. Damn that man. I always thought he was nothing but trouble. Who beat Jim up? Was there someone else down there with them?" Spock said nothing, and for once the doctor didn't press. He had a feeling that this was a story he'd have to hear from Jim.
"Well, since I've never seen a strain quite like this one, I'm going to name it Vegan choriomeningitis. Maybe, I'll even get a paper out of this."
Spock lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Was the doctor seriously proposing to write a paper about a disease that could be killing Captain Kirk? He did not believe that he would ever understand this human. McCoy was even stranger than Spock's other human shipmates. He bent to his work.
The lab was silent save for the clinking sound of metal on glass as the two scientist struggled to find the correct combinations that would kill the disease that was killing Captain Kirk. Another hour passed and Spock was beginning to fear that they would run out of time. The Vulcan's musings were interrupted by the triumphant exclamation of Dr. McCoy.
"Damn, I'm good! Got it! Spock, we got lucky. This'll kill the buggers."
"Dr. McCoy, are you certain that you've found the cure to a strain of a disease that is completely new to you in six hours and thirty-two minutes? The odds of that occurring are three hundred forty-seven thousand and seventy-eight to one."
"Don't quote odds to me. You're wasting time. Help me test this thing again." The doctor handed Spock a beaker and a culture dish. "It worked three out of three times for me. You try it, Spock."
To the Vulcan's surprise, the beaker did in fact seem to hold the cure to the captain's disease. With a few adjustments for dosage, they loaded a hypospray and took it to where Captain Kirk lay, feverish and drifting in and out of consciousness. Lieutenant Uhura and Mr. DeSalle stood next to the diagnostic bed with worried looks on their faces. They had cared for the captain while the doctor and Mr. Spock worked in the lab. McCoy saw the question in their eyes and nodded. Quickly and efficiently he administered the hypospray.
"We should see a decrease in the infection in just a few moments, if this thing works," the doctor whispered. He seemed reluctant to speak out loud, as if he might disturb the cure.
"I have no doubt about your remedy, Doctor. Nor should you."
"Why, Mr. Spock. That's the first nice thing you've ever said to me. I hope it doesn't get to be a habit."
"Do I infer from your comment, Dr. McCoy that you prefer to work in a hostile environment? That could explain much about your manners."
"MY manners. You could freeze fire with yours, you Vulcan iceberg."
"Since you consider yourself a scientist, doctor, I find it odd that it is necessary to point out that there are no icebergs on Vulcan."
"Why you...let me tell you about some fellows back in Georgia. Name of Hatfield. They never did learn not to argue with a McCoy. Not too many of those Hatfields left in Georgia"
"Doctor McCoy, I hardly see what...."
A weak voice from the diagnostic bed interrupted the argument. "Gentlemen, is this any way to behave in Sickbay?
"Jim!"
"Captain."
"We were just..."
"How are you feeling, Jim?"
The captain smiled and struggled up on his elbows. "Never mind, Spock, Doctor. Thanks, both of you. I feel much better already. Now, how soon can I get out of here? I've got a ship to run." The effort to sit up exhausted him, and the captain slid back down on the bed. "How far out are we from Starbase Eleven? Poor Piper needs that medication." He looked up at McCoy. "He's going to be really surprised to see you, Doctor."
Dr. McCoy ran the medical tricorder over the captain and looked back at him.
"He'll get over it, Captain. You just stay put. You're not going anywhere until I say so. You're going to be just fine Jim, but you have to give it a little time. You gave us a scare, but thanks to your pet Vulcan here and the finest diagnostician in Starfleet, we licked this thing."
He put his hand on Kirk's wrist, partly to feel the captain's pulse and partly because he knew the healing power of touch.
"Oh, just one thing, Jim. This bug...I'm calling it Vegan Choriomeningitis, by the way, well, it's not gone. These little beasts bond to your red blood cells and I can't completely screen them out. Not without killing you. So, you're going to be a permanent carrier. You could infect someone if they were injected with your blood. Shouldn't be any real problem though. Unless someone on this ship is a vampire." The doctor looked pointedly at Spock and grinned a wicked grin.
What started as a chuckle from the captain quickly became a full fledged laugh." Well, Spock," he said, looking with affection at the doctor, "it looks like you've met the real McCoy."
Spock started to respond, then apparently thought better of it.
Captain Kirk looked up at his new CMO. " This is quite an introduction to the Enterprise. Welcome aboard, Bones. Sorry...Leonard."
"It's okay, Jim. You can call me Bones. I kind of like it coming from you."
The captain was silent for a moment and his face seemed to drop. "Gary finally told me about that name. I'm truly sorry. I'd never have used it if I knew what it really meant."
"I don't mind, Jim. I really don't. You always used it kindly. And, I think it might help us remember Gary. He wasn't perfect, but I know he was your friend."
"Thanks, Bones. From both of us."
The doctor squeezed the captain's arm and together they remembered Gary Mitchell.
Kirk lay on the bed with his eyes closed, and for a moment McCoy thought he had fallen asleep. Then a soft smile crossed his face and he opened his eyes. He lifted his head to look at McCoy's feet. " Doctor, I'm really sorry about your shoes. Can I persuade you to trade them in for a pair of regulation Starfleet boots?"
McCoy's thoughts of resignation faded as he looked affectionately at the man on the diagnostic bed. He remembered exactly why he had agreed to serve with him in the first place. That did not mean, however that he didn't want to get a few things straight.
"Now, Jim. There are some things we need to talk about, if I'm going to stay on this bucket." The doctor saw his opportunity and pressed it. "If this pointy eared first officer of yours had just let me speak to you in the first place, you wouldn't have gotten so sick. I'd have been on board hours ago. I want access, Jim. I need to go where I want, when I want. Otherwise, you might just have to get yourself another doctor."
Captain Kirk smiled to himself. This was the Leonard McCoy he remembered. He sure wasn't afraid to speak his mind. Kirk thought that was just what he needed. "You win, Bones. Besides, it would be really inconvenient to find someone else. Especially since you and Spock seem to be getting along so well." He grinned at that. "If it's access you want, then access you'll get. You can even be on the bridge. That's someplace no CMO usually gets to be. Happy?"
"Well," the doctor drawled, "happy may be too much to ask for. But, I suppose I could eventually learn to put up with this place."
"Welcome aboard, Dr. McCoy," responded the captain. "I think this may be the beginning of an interesting time for the three of us.
Mr. Spock had his doubts, but he wisely chose to keep them to himself.
Dr. McCoy silently echoed the first officer's thoughts, but he too, kept uncharacteristically silent. And, for perhaps the last time in a career would span many decades together, Captain James T. Kirk got the last word.
The End.