Yeah, my first star trek fanfic!!! And of course, given my obsession with McCoy, it's about him :) Seeing as I'm also trying to finish another one of my stories, this will probably be updated slowly, but i put it up here as a trial run to see how ya'll like it. Enjoy!

A year after Nero's demise, McCoy is certain he has found a home on the Enterprise. But when Starfleet Command arranges for him to be transferred to a research station on an out-of-the-way planet, he is not pleased. Disgruntled, he finds himself in a place where appearance is everything, and corruption is common. As he becomes entangled in the station's affairs, he realizes there is more to the place than meets the eye- and with a stunning female sidekick, he's ready to discover what it means to meddle with the code of human lives, and to save his very world from complete and utter destruction.



"You paranoid, insensitive, unfeeling, conceited bastard!"

His wife's screams were probably heard throughout the community. Though McCoy had to agree with her choice of words, 'conceited' went too far- unless she thought he was showing off by his explanations of what diseases could do to you. Which he wasn't; it was only to warn her about what happened when it went wrong- and it always went wrong. Take now, for instance; he had only been a little late coming back from the store, and she exploded in his face, causing him to drop the eggs and milk carton, which had made her even angrier and his apparent lack of self-concern had been the cherry on top of a really shitty sundae.

She stormed out of the house, and he swore he saw steam rising from her head. That wasn't a good sign. Overheating was usually a symptom of the Untonium Fever; first, you were extremely warm, and then began to sweat profusely, and on top of that your body begins to swell until you expand outward like a grotesque balloon, and of course at some point you had to pop to relieve the pressure, and that was never a pretty sight…

Shaking his head, Leonard McCoy attempted to clean up the cracked eggs, muttering about "Needy females" and "overdevelop hormones" the whole time. He hadn't broken many- only two or three out of the two-dozen- so he didn't see the point to her eruption. He guessed this was what happened when an aspiring medical student was smitten for a resident nurse while on internship. They had only dated for two whole months before tying the knot; two years later, it was blowing up in his face like a phaser bomb.

She returned that night, somewhat subdued again. He was reading the newspaper in the living room, the TV on just to provide background noise. Engrossed in a story of a couple who had survived a deadly blood disease, he didn't recognize her presence even when she stood in front of the flashing screen.

"Leonard…" She began, but when he didn't respond she let out an impatient sigh and placed her hand on the paper in front of his eyes. He blinked, and then looked sourly up at her. "What's wrong this time, Trisha?" He asked.

He was immediately put on guard when she sat beside him and attempted to take his hand. "Listen, I don't think this marriage is working out for us. Sure, the first year was great… not to mention the sex… but this wasn't meant to be." She paused, and if she had been expecting him to wail, cry, and insist that she stop talking nonsense, she was sadly mistaken. He simply snorted, said "No shit," And went back to reading.

Her anger was rising, but she held it admirably in check. "I want to get a divorce, Leonard. I've already got the papers finalized; all you have to do is sign."

Blowing out a sigh of relief, McCoy said, "I daresay that's the best news I've heard all day. Where's the pen, woman?"

Trisha was visibly startled, and then her face turned a deep red. "You don't even care that I'm leaving you?"

"Hell no," He replied bluntly. "You're gone most of the time anyway."

This ignited yet another torrent of screams, curses, and yells as he calmly stood, grabbed a pen, and signed the papers without a second's hesitation.

Of course, now that he thought about it, he should have looked at the paper beforehand.

She had gotten everything. The house, money, property, you name it. Not only that, but she had gone and destroyed his reputation in every society within a two-hundred mile radius. Honestly, he didn't know how she did it, but now he had nowhere to go.

Which was why he had ended up in Starfleet, of all places.

Though they had accepted him graciously enough, they didn't have many hopes for him. He was already nearing his thirties, and most of the people his age were already graduated. He was to be, at best, on Assistant Medical Staff- not the type of job he wanted, nor was he used to.

He would be damned if they thought an old dog couldn't learn new tricks.

Within a year of joining, he was already enrolled in advanced medical courses, rolling ahead like a barely contained tornado. His peers both feared and admired him- this was a type of man that could do anything he put his mind to. Though his paranoia frightened many, they quickly got used to it and largely ignored his rants.

This mainly stemmed from dealing with his wife; suddenly, he was in an environment that he knew, he respected; no one was demanding things that he couldn't achieve, and so long as he did his work, no one complained. Yet, without the disruption, his life seemed too… steady. He needed some way of asserting himself, and this came in form of bawling out commands and sarcastic comments. He was all bark and no bite, and this proved to be more successful than anyone ever imagined.

As the top of his class, no one imagined he could become friends with the most troublesome cadet in the school.

Even McCoy himself couldn't explain it. Perhaps it was because, on the fateful day they had met, Jim had been so assure of himself, something that McCoy never could accomplish completely. He was quick-witted, and easy to relax around. Though Jim hid behind a playful, carefree exterior, McCoy could sense a strong, fully capable leader lurking under the surface. Maybe it was the doctor within him that wanted to make Jim become that leader, or a strange paternal sense wanted to push the young man further, but whatever the reason, a strong bond was created. Jim was someone McCoy could lean on in moments when his past was too hard to handle; somehow, he was smiling within a few moments. Though Jim was many things, he was not coldhearted.

So, when he was placed on academic suspension, his heart naturally ruled out. Dragging his unsuspecting friend to the temporary medical center, he did the one thing he could do best- be a doctor.

Injecting Jim with the virus, he led the struggling cadet to the space shuttle, his fear of flying only a slight buzz in the back of his brain as he beheld Starbase 1 for the very first time. Awed, he could hardly breathe; and then Jim let out a shuddering gasp, bent over, and puked into the bag McCoy had thoughtfully brought along with him.

After that, everything went from bad to worse.

All too soon, he watched his best friend- and himself, admittedly- grow up before his eyes. Responsibility he had never dealt with before was placed in his trembling hands; hiding his fear behind a harsh and sarcastic exterior, he dominated the sickbay without mercy, working endless hours to save the wounded, and ease the pain of the dying. Images he had only seen in simulations and had read about in textbooks were nothing compared to the real thing. Part of him wondered why he had even become a doctor if he detested death so much; the other half was joyous that he could finally prove himself, show to someone that he was worthwhile. Unlike the belittling Trisha, Starfleet valued him for who he was.

This only goes to prove that fate had funny ways of shoving you right into the mud after you had just picked yourself up and dusted off your clothes.

"Bones, I'm sorry. Even I can't contradict Starfleet Command orders." Kirk said desperately, looking at his friend in sadness. "It's only for a year; we'll be back to pick you up before you know it."

McCoy slammed a fist into the table. "Damn them!" He hissed. "I want to serve on the Enterprise, not at some out-of-the-way station!"

"Bones, I…"

"It's not your fault, Jim." He sighed. "I'll go, but they aren't going to send me away again. You better pick me up exactly one year from now, or I swear I'll sabotage every medical supply you got, one way or another!"

Kirk gave a slight smile. "I wouldn't put it past you. You'd best pack; we'll arrive soon."

A heavy scowl on his face, McCoy followed his Captain and friend to his quarters, his feet growing heavier by the minute. Most of the staff was unaware of his sudden and inexplicable reassignment; they just assumed the duo had gotten into another spat again. Kirk would soon tell them, of course, after McCoy left; he didn't want to deal with emotional and long farewells.

"You know," Kirk said as the tossed the clothes haphazardly into a bag, "Maybe for once in your life you'll get to escape my incessant chatter."

"I'll appreciate the silence." McCoy replied. "But you know that it'll be too boring down there for my taste."

His captain hesitated, a worried expression in his eyes, then he blinked and it was gone. "Oh, you're sure to have some sort of action. You seem to attract trouble."

"If I recall," he said dryly, "I only get into trouble whenever you're around."

Kirk nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, who knows? I may rub off on you. Here, this bag's full. For a doctor, you have hardly anything on hand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kirk only chuckled, packing the next bag.

They were done within ten minutes. As the last bag was zipped up, Scotty's voice came over the intercom. "We're reachin' our destination, sir. The transporter room is ready."

"We'll be right down, Scotty." Kirk said. "You ready, Bones?"

"No, but we'd best get this over with." Bones sighed, dragging his bags down the hallway.

In the transporter room, Scotty gave him a friendly hug. "Take care of yerself down there, mate. I want to see ye upon our arrival next year!"

Spock nodded. "It is a great shame to see someone of your skills depart. As the Starship's first officer, I tell you good luck. As your friend, I say I hope that we will meet again soon."

"As do I," Nyota said. "I'll keep my frequencies open should you call."

Touched that everyone he cared about most was here to see him off, McCoy almost cried- almost, but didn't. He blamed the Vulcan. "Keep yourselves healthy. I don't want to take care of you first thing when I return from whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to do down there."

Kirk laughed. "We'll miss you, Bones."

He stepped onto the transporter pad, his stern expression still in place; then he relaxed, and smiled. "Well, I'll see you all in a year. Farewell."

Scotty activated the pad, and as he energized, he swore he saw tears in the engineer's eyes. But that could have been due to the effect of the beam on his body.

He landed on the planet seconds later, standing in front of a clean, meticulous scientific building. His bags, already beamed down ahead of him, were lying on the ground next to him. Tugging on his blue shirt, he marched smartly up and knocked on the door.

It opened immediately. "Doctor Leonard McCoy here," he said, nodding at the man who had answered the door.

He nodded. "Of course. Right this way, sir." Signaling to two nearby staff, he gestured at the bags. "Bring Doctor McCoy's items to his room."

The intern led him through the sterile hallways, and McCoy had to marvel at the advanced technology that was equipped. He had several of the items on hand on the Enterprise, but some he had never seen, much less used. His scientific mind in full gear, he tried to puzzle out what each machine was used for.

His guide halted in front of a polished mahogany door, out of place in this white and grey building. Interested, McCoy watched as the intern knocked, and upon hearing a muffled "Come in," entered.

Behind an ornate wooden desk sat a man far too fat for his own good. He was bald, with flakey skin on the crown of his skin and sausage-like fingers that punched everything it touched to ascertain that he made contact. His clothes, mostly made from a light, stretchy material that did nothing to flatter his figure in any way, were stained with food and drink.

"Ah, McCoy. Captain Kirk must have sent you, yes?" he asked. "I'm Commander Gordo, in charge of this here medical research station on Planet Theta Six. I am eager to see your skills in this area."

"Thanks for your hospitality, sir." Bones replied stiffly, not liking the man at all. Unlike Kirk, this man cared nothing for his subordinates. How someone like him ever progressed to Commander he would never know.

"Thatcher, take McCoy to his room. Assign an intern to explain his duties while you organize his team, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Thatcher turned, leading McCoy outside and to a separate building. "You will be staying here, in building A-6. Your room is the first on the right." Without another word, he left.

Annoyed, McCoy went into his room, eyeing the boring white walls and small bed critically. Besides a small nightstand, trunk, sink, and mirror, there were no other furnishings- a small toilet was tucked into the corner. Apparently, it wasn't for comfort- this already showed he would be spending most of his time working.

His bags were placed neatly at the foot of his bed, and as he unpacked he wondered just what Starfleet wanted him to do here.

A soft knock on his door alerted him to a visitor. Going to the door, he opened it to see a woman, who looked somewhat nervous to see him.

She was in her early twenties, with strait dirty-blonde hair and green eyes. She was rather petite, with a slime frame and a delicate bearing. Still, he could see that she was spirited- and in an instant he was hooked by her innocent charm.

"My name's Lillian Thompson, sir. I was sent here to show you around."

He nodded, interested in what she had to show him. And, he had to admit to himself, Lillian as well- he had stumbled into a real interesting woman, and he wasn't about to let it fall away.

From the tour, McCoy was able to see that it was just like any other research station. Bland, sterile, and uneventful. He was to work in Bioinformatics and Bioengineering; basically, messing with the human DNA to cure genetic diseases. This he did not like at all- no one knew what could happen by messing with the coding of human life. Sure, they could cure a certain cancer, but they could also create something far more devastating! Meddling with human lives was a big no-no in his book. He worked to save, not destroy!

Still, he had to admit the temptation of creating a cure for any type of disease was too great for him to resist.

"This is your division leader's office; if you have any questions, visit him here." Lillian was saying. "All orders for you to follow come from him, and the orders from your team come from you. As team leader, you get to choose if you work or not; though you are required to be in the lab during your shift, it is your choice to either work with your team or not. However, you must file a report of progress at the end of every week."

"For an intern, you sure do know your stuff," He said.

She shrugged. "I've been here long enough to get used to the system. If I recall, I was placed on your team; I can help you on any other aspects of your job."

In a very Kirk-like moment, one that equally appalled and shocked him, McCoy asked, "What are the policies of pursuing…romantic ideas between staff members?"

Lillian looked confused, but answered, "I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps you can ask your Division leader?"

Though unsatisfied, McCoy nodded. Still, this arrangement didn't seem as bad as he had originally thought.


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