Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Viacom, Inc. and Paramount, Inc. I wrote this story purely for fun and have received no monetary benefit from it.

Author note: Thank you for the reviews! I was scared to death to post my first story, and the encouragement really helps. Suggestions for improvement are also very welcome.


Vulcan Medicine

By Amanda Larson

Chapter One

"Sorry to wake you, Doc. Urgent message from Starfleet."

"Whatizzit?"

"It's the starship Enterprise. Their chief medical officer is sick. Hep R. They just checked him in over here, and they need a replacement."

Clarinda Hollick rubbed her eyes and squinted at the clock. 2 a.m. "I don't have any authority over the hospital staff," she said to the intercom. "You need to get Dr. Koury to assign someone."

"They want you."

Claire stopped mid-yawn. "What?"

"They want someone with Starfleet experience. You're the only MD on the base who went through the Academy."

"That doesn't make any sense." Wide awake now, Claire flipped on the desk lamp and found her glasses. "I've got a research appointment; I hardly ever set foot in the hospital."

"I know, but Commander Ford said it would be a good idea. Keep Starfleet happy. You know." The young administrator sounded apologetic. "They want you to report first thing in the morning."

Claire thought of her lab, all the flasks lined up in the coolers like fine wines. A face passed through her mind, green-skinned and pointy-eared. "I'll be there," she said.

She hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail and exchanged her pajamas for an old pair of gray sweats. Her hands were shaking a bit. A starship! She hadn't been on one in 8 years. That was when she'd finally managed to convince Starfleet to station her in a permanent research facility. That first lab had been on Earth, where she had isolated the agents responsible for mitochondrial cancer. Now she was at a better facility on Starbase 6, and she thought a cure might be in her grasp, maybe in the next 10 years.

At least her team was top-notch. They could carry on without her for at least a couple of months. Of course, if the Enterprise's doctor had Rigelian hepatitis it could be longer than a couple of months. He probably wouldn't recover at all, and who knew how long it would take them to find a permanent replacement? She'd better wake Lara and Hal up. There was a lot to organize in the lab. She would need to take culture 2245 with her – she hadn't had time to teach them the replication technique yet. Claire grabbed her knapsack, took a last look around her cozy livingroom, and left for the lab.

Four hours later, stomach tight and new blue uniform itching, she was materializing in a brightly lit transporter room. A very handsome man in a gold shirt was smiling at her, and behind him stood….Dammit! Not a Vulcan! Claire took a deep breath and stepped down from the pad, extending her hand to the captain. Her eyes widened when he told her his name. She hadn't made the connection before. Often lost in her lab work on the isolated Starbase, she was sadly out of touch. Everyone knew who James T. Kirk was, but she had forgotten that the Enterprise was his ship. She realized now who was standing behind him. Kirk turned and introduced her to the lanky Vulcan, the one whose work she had read with great admiration.

Spock shook her hand firmly. "Doctor," was all he said. His face might have been cast in marble. Even the dark, coffee-colored eyes were hard.

Kirk put a hand on her elbow. "I'll take you to sickbay first, Doctor. You'll want to see if there's any equipment you need to beam aboard before we leave."

They walked down the crowded corridor. Claire felt her heart beat a little faster in time with the bustling crew. She had forgotten the feeling of a fully manned starship preparing to leave dock. It made the preternaturally calm presence walking behind them even more noticeable.

"I'm glad you were able to join us on such short notice," Kirk said.

"I was happy for the opportunity to serve on a starship, Captain. I haven't set foot on one since my training days." Claire paused. Impulsively, she touched his forearm, just for a moment. "Hepatitis R is a very grave disease, sir, but the medical facilities on Starbase 6 are unsurpassed. Dr. McCoy has the best chance for recovery there."

Kirk looked at her. "Thank you, Doctor….What was that, Spock?"

Mr. Spock cleared his throat. "Nothing, Captain."

They had arrived at Sickbay. Kirk left her there. "Christine will show you around," he said. "Have whatever you need beamed aboard before ten hundred and report for duty at thirteen hundred." Claire mentally converted the numbers to real time and nodded. She watched the two men walk away, one warm, radiating power and vitality, the other forming a tall, cool counterpoint. They fit together somehow.

She turned to the sickbay and glanced around with admiration. She had not met Dr. McCoy, but if a doctor could be judged by his hospital, then McCoy must be a very rational, organized man. Everything was laid out in perfect, logical order. The head nurse, Christine, finished stacking the surgical packs and turned to her with a smile. "Are you ready for the tour?" she said. Her voice had the barest hint of an old-fashioned scotch-and-cigarettes rasp to it. With her bouffant blonde hair and short-skirted blue uniform she could have been a cocktail waitress. Claire liked her already.

The tour was a little overwhelming. Over 400 crewmembers on board, and the facilities had to handle a large number of wounded. She would essentially be managing an entire hospital in addition to joining landing parties. "I'll need to examine all the crew medical files later today," she said.

"I've already got them loaded on the lab computer for you. It won't be hard. The crew's nearly all human. Just two Ferengis and three Andoreans and Spock of course."

"I'll have to brush up on my Vulcan physiology."

"Actually, Spock is half Vulcan, half human."

Claire started. The two didn't look anything alike. Mr. Spock was so much more Vulcan-looking. The boy, thankfully, was not. Well, that just went to show that one could never predict how a cross-bred organism would come out. "His file I'll need to memorize," Claire said.

"I highlighted the relevant details in his file," Christine said. "Mostly Vulcan, but a few anomalies you'll need to remember. Here's the lab." She stood proudly by the door and gestured to Claire to go inside.

The lab was lovely, every piece of equipment gleaming under the bright lights. It was small, as all things on board a ship were, but perfectly equipped. "The only thing I see missing is a Galveston spectrometer," she said. "I can have one beamed up from my lab."

"I thought you would say that. I cleared a spot on that counter for it."

Claire looked at her and laughed. "You're the brains behind this outfit, aren't you?"

Christine smiled smugly. "Just between you and me," she said, "Dr. McCoy's a great doctor but he'd lose his head if it wasn't screwed down."

"Perfect," Claire said. "Just pretend I'm him and we'll get along great."


Kirk and Spock were deep in a game of chess when Sulu entered.

"Excuse me, Captain. You said you wanted a report on the new recruits in my combat class."

"Ah, yes, the combat class. I thought you looked a little worn out."

"They gave me a good workout, sir. The cadets have all had training with Master Sandel at the academy, and they're performing well, except that he puts too much emphasis on the Flynn maneuver. I'll train them out of that soon enough."

"No doubt. How about our other new crewmember?"

"She's another story, sir. She trained at the academy as well, but it was ten years ago and she's pretty rusty. I suggest regular lessons if she's going to be joining any landing parties."

"Good idea. I'll tell her to start attending classes regularly. Spock, would you be willing to run her through some drills outside of class? She needs to get up to speed quickly."

"Certainly," Spock said as he moved his knight in for the kill.

Sulu left and Kirk muttered, "Damn," as he scanned the chess pieces. "Another game?" he asked.

Spock inclined his head. As they placed the synthetic marble and obsidian pieces on the boards, he said, "Captain, I remind you that I did warn you about taking on Dr. Hollick. The Vulcan doctor serving at Starbase 6 would have been a much more suitable choice."

"S'Gar? I looked at his file. No Starfleet experience whatsoever. Besides, you told me you admired Hollick's work."

"Dr. Hollick's work on mitochondrial cancer has been groundbreaking, but the skills required for lab work are not at all the same as those required for being chief medical officer on a starship. A level-headed and physically strong Vulcan would-"

"Yes, Spock! I know! Vulcans are infinitely superior to humans!"

"I did not say that, Captain. I merely pointed out-"

Kirk raised his hand. "You've made your point, Spock." He sighed and dropped his hand. "Forgive me, I'm not in the best mood. Anyway, what does it matter? It's a temporary assignment and we'll have McCoy back in no time." He moved a piece without looking at it.

Spock closed in for the kill again. It was clear the Captain's mind was not on the game. "Captain, I am constrained to point out that the chances of recovering from Rigelian hepatitis are 25.7%. It is illogical to expect Dr. McCoy to return."

Kirk stood abruptly. "I'll be on the bridge," he said. He pivoted on his heel and strode out of the room.

Spock looked at the closed door, eyebrow raised. Slowly, he began to put the chess pieces away.


Spock leaned back against the wall of the martial arts room, arms folded, watching Sulu teach six students the left hand block the lieutenant had invented during a dangerous encounter with a Faragon. It was the only block that worked with a three-meter tall organism that had both arms and multiple tentacles. Venomous tentacles, at that.

The students practiced the maneuver on each other, their arms a blur as they blocked each other's jabs. The doctor was slower than the others. Tendrils of her golden brown hair had escaped the knot at the back of her neck and her ridiculous eyeglasses kept slipping down her nose. She must be one of the 1.4% of humans who were allergic to Retinax V. Spock sighed. Why the Captain had chosen this short, clumsy woman over a male Vulcan was beyond him. She would be as useless as McCoy in a real battle. On the other hand, her blocks were aimed precisely. She seemed to anticipate where each of her opponent's hits would land, and she blocked at the point of maximal vulnerability. Spock watched her closely.

Sulu called a halt and said, "We'll close today with a lesson I don't want you ever to forget." He handed a dummy phaser to the doctor. "Claire, aim the phaser at me." She stood where she was, less than a meter from Sulu, and pointed the phaser at him. Spock winced. Sulu's hand shot out and knocked the phaser out of her hand and halfway across the room. Startled, she froze for a microsecond. Sulu swept her feet out from under her, rolled her onto her stomach, and pinned her arms behind her back. She bucked, but his full weight was on her backside. He pulled her arms up a few centimeters. A shriek of "Uncle!" emitted from the floor, muffled slightly by the padded mat.

Sulu released her, chuckling, and the other students laughed as Claire sat up, glasses askew and a sheepish grin on her face. Sulu said, "I haven't heard that form of surrender since I was a kid."

One of the other students gave Claire a hand up. She smoothed down her hair and straightened her glasses. Sulu asked the class, "What went wrong there?" They all chimed in together, "She was too close."

"Exactly," Sulu said. He turned toward Claire. "When you have a long-distance weapon, you have the advantage because you can disable someone without getting close to them. Don't give up that advantage by getting within arm's reach. Stay about two to three meters away. Close enough that they won't be tempted to run, but far enough that they can't reach you before you have time to fire."

Claire nodded and rubbed her wrist. "I won't forget," she said with a rueful smile.

As the students filed out of the room, Spock levered himself off the wall and walked toward the doctor. Her rate of respiration was still elevated and her face was flushed. "Would you prefer to conduct our sparring session at a later time, Doctor?" he asked.

"No. I'll be with you in a moment." Her smile had disappeared.

Spock turned to the cabinets and pulled out the protective gear. He doubted it would be necessary, as she was unlikely to land a hit on him and he would be careful not to hit her with any force, but it was logical to take precautions. He strapped the red pads over his chest and forearms, the color standing out starkly against his black fatigues, providing a useful target.

Sulu was adjusting the helmet on Claire's head. "I've got to get to the bridge now," he said.

"Thanks for the class," she said.

"No problem. Good luck with him." Sulu patted her shoulder as he left.

Claire put down her water bottle and walked toward Spock. She was in black fatigues as well, but had athletic shoes on; Spock was barefoot as he always was during training. He assumed the ready stance. Claire followed suit, jaw upturned, amber eyes locking with his. "We will start with punches, Doctor. Show me your best hit." She pulled her right arm back and drove her fist directly at his chest. He hastily raised his left arm, barely blocking the punch in time. The force behind her hit was an order of magnitude higher than he had been expecting.

"Weak," he said. "You will need to do better than that in real combat."

She set her jaw and drew back her arm again. This time he caught her fist on its way to his abdomen. He twisted it viciously, making her lose her balance and fall to the blue-matted floor. She popped back up, breathing hard. Her cheeks were flushed again. "Block," he said and immediately struck at her left shoulder. Her right arm was a blur as she knocked his fist aside before it made contact. He tried again on her chest and she blocked him so hard his wrist was stinging. He attempted to sweep her legs with his foot, as Sulu had done earlier, but she jumped lightly out of the way. Fascinating.

"Full sparring now," he said.

He watched her closely as they faced off. Her mouth suddenly dropped open as if she were about to speak. She snapped it shut again. Her eyes narrowed. She struck out in a slow-moving, clumsy jab that he blocked easily. He hit back and made contact with her shoulder. They continued on this way for several minutes, Spock easily outmaneuvering her. Finally, looking intently at her, Spock whirled around and kicked her in the thigh. Hard.

She fell to the mat, tears welling up in her eyes, holding up her hand in a signal to stop.

"Are you all right, Doctor?"

Her breathless voice responded, "Fine….Just give me a minute." She kneaded her thigh for several seconds and then stood shakily.

Spock handed her the water bottle. "I believe that is enough for today. May I give you my evaluation?"

She nodded as she gulped water, eyes closed.

"You fight in an emotional manner. You are weak and slow, even for a human. I will recommend to the Captain that you not serve on landing parties until you have shown significant improvement. Let us meet again tomorrow at the same time."


Claire slammed the door of her locker and stalked to the shower. That pointy-eared son of a bitch! How did he know? Well, the answer to that was easy. Because he was a Vulcan, that's how. Thank heavens she had realized at some point that she was revealing far too much. She couldn't afford for anyone to know, least of all him. Standing under the warm flow of water, she massaged the growing bruise on her thigh. It had been very difficult to ignore that last message he had sent, and she had paid for it. Hopefully it had thrown him off her trail.

It was really just her luck there had to be a Vulcan officer on board. In addition to the problems with their telepathic abilities, there was the fact that her skin crawled whenever she had to be around them. The last month, since S'Gar had been transferred to Starbase 6, had been torturous. There was simply no way to avoid him completely, and that time he had smirked and asked her how Marissa was doing it had taken every ounce of her self-control not to deck him. Of course, he was a special case, but they all had that same haughty arrogance about their lack of emotion. She was so glad Michael was being raised as a human.

Claire wrapped herself in a soft, white towel and put her head under a drier. She'd better get moving or she'd be late for lunch with Christine. That was guaranteed to improve her mood. Christine had the most wicked sense of humor. She referred to the Captain as Alfalfa, for his incorrigible cowlick and childish antics, and she did a devastating impersonation of his halting vocal patterns. Claire didn't know any of the officers well enough to joke about them, but she appreciated the head nurse's attempts to help her feel more comfortable on the intimidating starship. Sometimes they sat in the galley shaking with silent laughter as one of Christine's targets strode by. She especially liked to pick on the alpha males. She never picked on Spock, though.