A/N: Okay! So, this has been bouncing around annoyingly in my brain for the past few weeks, so I'm finally writing it. Three Heroes is still going, don't anybody worry, but I'm also doing this little story on the side. It's going to be mostly a backstory, but that won't really start going until like, chapter 3. That being said, I hope you enjoy this fic in the meantime! Thanks, guys!

Nature versus nurture has been the ongoing debate in many scientific fields. Ranging from Biology to Psychology, it seemed that no one could quite agree where nature or nurture were responsible for what. Were habits and little idiosyncrasies encoded into someone's DNA, or were they a result of several experiences?

For Jim Kirk, all this meant little to him. He could easily explain his own life and choices- he first recognized his innate command ability when he was young, but learned to balance caution with risk while on Tarsus IV- and that was all that mattered. To him, simply accepting the outcome was enough- one didn't need to always know its source.

Spock and McCoy saw differently. This was not unusual. While they (indirectly) agreed that nurture built on nature, they started deviating with the specifics.

"I wouldn't say Vulcan logic is inherent, Spock, you yourself have stated on several occasions that you train to be this unemotional."

"Nevertheless, Doctor, the penchant for logic has always been there," Spock countered.

"And the penchant for emotion has been there, too," McCoy replied. "Vulcans were highly emotional back in the day. Something about pre-Surakian times? Isn't it illogical to suppress part of your own being?"

Kirk slowed in the hall, aware that the conversation was starting to take a more personal turn.

"Sentience endows the option of choice; and experience may lead us to reject certain innate traits. For example, a monk or Catholic priest would need to reject the urge to mate."

Kirk chuckled quietly as McCoy's faced scrunched up in mild disgust. "I wish you wouldn't call it that, Spock. That sounds nastier than it should be."

"It is a simple term, Doctor, and quite true-"

"Alright, gentlemen," Kirk cut in as the three entered the transporter room. "Let's save it for when we get back to the ship, alright?"

McCoy shrugged. "Whatever you say, Jim."

"Acknowledged, Captain."

Kirk sighed. "You locked on to that ship, Scotty?"

"Aye, sair," the engineer replied. "However old she is, her hull's still intact and you have a breathable atmosphair. Air might be a bit stale, tho, so don't stay too long."

"Understood." They'd come across an old cargo vessel that had gone missing almost thirty years ago. No life signs registered, and so it was, unfortunately, more of a retrieval mission than a rescue.

Kirk sighed. It was a grim job, but he didn't want anyone else to have to do it. McCoy was there, of course, to determine cause of death for the crew, and Spock had volunteered to join them.

"Well, let's hop to it."

McCoy cringed and rubbed his hands together anxiously. "I hate these things," he muttered, finally stepping onto the transporter after Kirk and Spock.

"Lighten up, Bones, it's not that bad," Kirk cajoled.

"Don't worry, Doc," Scotty called cheerfully. "I'll make sure you get thair an' back in one piece."

McCoy lifted his eyes to the ceiling as they started to shimmer. "Let's hope everything's just in the right order…"

They shimmered and vanished.

The ship was cluttered and musty. There was no form of breeze, and Kirk found the complete lack rather uncomfortable. He turned to Bones, who had out his tricorder.

"Anything?" he asked.

McCoy glanced up and looked at him. "Hm? Oh, for the bodies? Jim, they're dead and/or gone, and if they're dead here then they've been dead for decades. No life signs, and no temperature clues. It'll be a manual search… I was just making sure the air was okay."

Kirk nodded. "Very well then. You take that way. I'll go straight. Spock…?"

The Vulcan also had his tricorder out. "Captain, I should like to venture to the bridge and ascertain what the problem with the ship was. It may provide answers as to how these people met their… untimely… end."

"Alright, Spock." He gestured. "Good luck."

"Thank you," he bowed with his head and moved off down the ship.

Kirk wandered down a hall until he came across what appeared to be the crew's quarters. There weren't many- it was a small ship- but they were cluttered and wrecked. The wreckage was mainly from disuse, Kirk noticed, sifting through the piles. Objects got knocked over and were never put back in place. A grim smile ghosted over his face as he beheld an old reading light. While thirty years old wasn't archaic, it did remind one of the incredible advances technology had made since that time.

His communicator crackled. "Kirk here," he answered.

"Captain, I believe I know what caused the ship this tragedy," came Spock's voice.

"Yes?"

"Their main console has shorted out. Navigation was barely affected, but it was enough to send them off course. Also, their communications board was completely 'shot' as you would say, by the malfunction."

Kirk pursed his lips grimly. One thing starships tended to have man forget was that space was huge. Navigation had to be absolutely precise; the smallest degree in alteration could send a ship millions of light years in the wrong direction. And with their communications out, there was no way to call for help.

"Acknowledged, Spock. See if you can help McCoy locate the bodies." Almost as if on cue, the communicator beeped with a message from McCoy.

"Jim, I've located three crewmembers. Decay was slower than normal because of the sterilized ship, but they show signs of starvation. However, that wasn't what killed them."

Kirk paused. "Then what did, Doctor?"

There was silence on the other end. Then McCoy's weary voice drifted through. "Well, there's severe trauma to their skulls, and one's holding an old phaser- back before they could vaporize, you know? I think we're looking at suicide."

Kirk closed his eyes briefly. "Acknowledged. If you find anymore, let me know. Kirk out." He closed the channel and took a moment to collect himself. A simple malfunction. And now a dead ship and crew.

Squaring his shoulders, he resumed investigating the rooms. He let his mind drift as he cleared away the junk, marveling over the old items.

He was in the last room and more control of himself when he knocked over someone's collection of spoons. It had been one of the few items still on a shelf, and from what he could tell the person had collected a spoon from various cultures and planets. They clattered on the floor and, feeling guilty, he bent and rapidly started picking them up, adjusting them on their stand.

He got on his hands and knees to reach any that slid under the bed when he felt an odd material. Frowning, he pulled it out and realized it was an old flash-print. Instant hard copies were made from early PADDS whenever there was important news, or warnings, or updates.

Kirk sat back on his knees, marveling the thin paper. He turned it over and noticed it had been a missing person(s) newsflash. They still got those sometimes over digital channels.

It looked to be three people. Kirk folded it and was about to set it on the bed when he noticed something. Looking closer, he examined the people.

He didn't know the first two, but the third one caught his eye. The boy's face was familiar, and as Kirk skimmed over the file he froze on the name of the third person.

Leonard H. McCoy

Spock and Bones were waiting at the beaming point for him. Kirk muttered a hasty apology and quickly stood between them. The missing person profile was stashed in his shirt.

"We found no others, Captain," Spock reported. "Yet it is logical for a ship this small to only be run by three people."

"We tagged the bodies, Jim, so we can beam them aboard anytime you like. An autopsy wouldn't tell me anymore than I already know, but I would like some DNA samples so we can start alerting families."

"Yes, of course," he nodded, only half-listening. "Enterprise, beam us up."

McCoy shuddered next to him as the familiar tingle started. A moment later and they were back on board.

"Begin transporting the bodies up," Kirk ordered crisply, before anyone else could say anything. He was vibrating with pent-up excitement and anxiety, waiting to ask McCoy some questions. "Then have a team roll them to Sickbay."

McCoy frowned slightly and opened his mouth but Kirk shushed him as they walked outside. Spock continued on to the bridge, and Kirk grabbed McCoy's elbow and drew him near the bulkhead.

"What's this about, Jim?" McCoy asked, a bit confused by the behavior.

"Bones," Kirk began quietly. He began to say something else, but changed his mind. Gingerly, he withdrew the missing person bulletin from under his shirt, and carefully unfolded it.

"I came across this while investigating their rooms," Kirk explained. He watched as McCoy gently touched the flash-print to read it better. "Anything you need to tell me?"

McCoy's shoulders stiffened slightly and his hand froze on the paper. Eyes still glued to the flash-print, his mouth unconsciously parted as he half-whispered something to himself. Kirk watched as McCoy seemed transfixed by the bulletin.

"Bones?" he prodded after a moment.

McCoy sighed and his shoulders slumped, relaxing. "It's nothing, Jim," he said tiredly. "That happened long ago and I've moved on. No sense bringing it up again."

"Is everything okay?" Kirk asked, concerned.

McCoy nodded. "Yes, it is. Nothing you need to worry about- I'm still able to perform my job, Captain… it was just a little shocking to see her-them- again."

Kirk nodded slowly, gently withdrawing the hand with the flash-print. "I understand," he said quietly.

McCoy smiled softly. "Thanks, Jim." He stretched his back. "Well, I've got to get to Sickbay and prep for DNA samples."

"Of course," Kirk also straightened. "Check in when you're done, Doctor. I'd like to notify the families myself."

"Will do," McCoy said, striding towards the turbolift.

Kirk looked over the bulletin one last time. The other two people were a boy and a girl of about the same age as Bones. Well, Bones back then. Some thirty years ago. He looked out across the corridor and sighed. Then he folded up the bulletin and pocketed it. Bones was right: the past was the past.

He would have forgotten about it completely, after that. But then Starfleet had to get involved…