Leonard McCoy was a man of many and varied talents. He was a more than decent doctor, an inspired researcher and a surgeon that never gave in while there was an infinitesimal chance to save a patient. Thanks to his grandma's efforts he was a more than passable cook. His ability to provide dinners that didn't come right from the replicator had gotten him a lot of dates before he married Jocelyn.
When he was in the right mood, after a good glass of bourbon, he'd pick up a guitar and sing with a deep and haunting voice. When he was a lot younger, he'd felt tempted to forget medicine and make a living on the stage. For some weird reason that he still didn't understand, kids and stray animals liked to follow him home and he had an encyclopaedic knowledge about the movies filmed in the twentieth century.
Chess, however, was not one of those talents. Not only was he not good at it, he found it unbearably boring. Despite that, just as he'd been every Wednesday since the Enterprise had started her five years mission, he was stretched out on the couch of James Kirk's cabin, watching his best friend and captain play yet another game of chess with his first officer. Why they wanted him there, when it was obvious that his presence wasn't necessary, was something that Leonard couldn't understand but there he was again, because by now it was pretty obvious that they weren't going to play if he wasn't there.
Since he knew that trying to figure out what was happening on the chessboard was only going to cause him a headache, he often used those moments to catch up on his paperwork or work on some new project. That night, however, his attempts to work were not being productive.
He made an effort to ignore the quiet conversation between Jim and Spock, shifted on the couch to make himself a little more comfortable and focussed his attention in the screen of his Padd. He read the code that he had carefully written during the previous hour one more time and pressed the preview button.
The image that appeared in the screen five seconds later forced him to admit that programming was another of the things he didn't excel. The proportions were not right. The blue in the sky was a little too bright. The sea was too green and the sand... He'd prefer not to think about the sand. He studied critically the screen for long minutes and finally sighed and closed the file. It was better to start again than trying to fix what was not fixable, he decided opening a blank document.
"Is everything right, Bones?" Jim asked with his eyes fixed on the chessboard.
"No. It's not all right." Suddenly, Leonard decided that he was too tired to keep working that night. He rose from the couch and dropped the Padd by his side. "If you want my opinion, this is a waste of time."
"What?" Jim turned in his chair to look at him and his eyes caught immediately on the program opened on the still active screen. "The holodeck project? I think is brilliant."
"Of course." Leonard muttered. "And everybody knows how well all your brilliant ideas work."
He wasn't being fair and he knew it. Most of the kid's ideas worked quite well, it didn't matter how crazy they'd seem. Besides, it hadn't been Jim's idea. He had just authorized Starfleet Medical to test its star project on the Enterprise and Leonard doubted they'd had given Jim the chance to say no. What was really pissing him off was that Leonard himself had believed it was a necessary project.
The holodeck technology had fascinated the scientists of the Fleet since they had run into it in the years of Archer and the first Enterprise. However, they hadn't been really interested in looking for a practical usefulness for it until a few decades before. The holodeck most evident use was recreational, so none of its ships had been designed with a place for them. If Jim was to be believed, the engineers of the Fleet had got different priorities, things to improve to make their travels safe and fast, before starting to work in something that was not strictly needed.
Leonard accepted that holodecks were not essential equipment for a ship, but he thought they'd be extremely useful for teaching. You just had to think in the Kobayashy Maru, for an example. It could be a lot more complex, be more realistic, and offer more varied situations than a simulated bridge and an enemy fleet. In the training of a surgeon, they'd be an invaluable resource.
But Starfleet liked things the old fashioned way, so holodecks had been put aside until Medical had approved their use for the treatment of a small group of veterans who had suffered serious traumas while serving in deep space. The results had been amazing. Allowing those men and women to relive their experiences in a realistic and fully controlled environment had improved the effects of the therapy so much that Starfleet had decided that investing money in them could be a good idea.
For the three years that Leonard had been on the Academy, the setting of therapeutic holodecks on the ships assigned to deep space exploration had been the star project of Starfleet Medical. Every medical student, even those not linked to the psychiatric track, had received basic instruction for programming them. Leonard had agreed that it was a fascinating project, but his interest hadn't gone further. He had only taken two related courses in his second year. The psychiatric students had spent hours and hours focused on the project.
"I would have thought that you especially, Leonard, would value how this project might be positive for the health of the crew."
Leonard didn't blink when Spock called him by his first name. He had needed several months of games of chess for the Vulcan to accept calling him something more than doctor but now it was usual. At least when they were alone, unless Leonard had done something to piss him off.
"Of course I do." Leonard was not stupid. He wasn't going to deny what was evident. "But this is not the right way to do it. I'm not the right person to do this. Anyone exposed to something that I'd program is probably going to come out more traumatized than he was in first place," he said shaking his head.
"Oh, come on. You cannot be that bad." Jim left his chair by the table and, before Leonard could stop him, grabbed the neglected Padd on the couch and started typing. "Or maybe you can," Jim feigned a shudder. "Can't you ask some other people to do this?"
"Don't you think that I've already thought about it?" Leonard reached to get his Padd back from Jim's hands and made a face to the image on the screen. Definitely, it wasn't one of his best attempts. "But I'm afraid that even in a tin can like this people are entitled to medical confidentiality."
"Maybe, but the person who programs the scene doesn't need to know all the details. You could describe to him what you need for the therapy and everybody stands to gain," Jim pointed trying to take the Padd again as Leonard stubbornly kept out of his reach.
"In case you haven't noticed it, Jim," Leonard replied harshly. "This ship is only a flying high school. Rumors spread at a terrifying speed and you cannot hide who goes on what mission. As soon as the tech would know what I need, he'd know who my patient is too. The risk of a leak is too big to allow it. Are you sure that we cannot request a psychiatrist, or at least a therapist from headquarters?"
"I'm sorry, Bones. I swear you that I've tried but you know how things are. Nobody is going to loan us their shrink."
Unfortunately, Leonard knew what Jim meant. The craziness of Nero and the Narada had more consequences than the loss of Vulcan and most of its population. Starfleet had replied to a call for help, so they had sent a rescue expedition. The ships had been crewed not only by cadets, but with a lot of the Starfleet Medical personnel posted on Earth. The loss of the auxiliary fleet had seen the death of doctors, nurses, psychiatrists, technicians and therapists by the dozens.
When things had started to recover something close to normal, the Fleet had discovered that there were a full lot of new enemies looking for a way to take advantage of the Federation's new weakness, and any ships that should confront them, had to do it with very limited medical personnel. Replacing casualties was almost impossible and Leonard was very conscious of it. He felt lucky that his team only lacked a psychiatrist.
But the Enterprise had been the ship chosen to test the holodeck project. The facilities had been finished when they had left for Vulcan and, amazingly, had survived Nero's attack intact. So, Starfleet had not found any reason to move the project to a ship with a specialist. Until further notice, Leonard was in charge. And it wasn't fun at all.
"That's fucking great." Leonard reached to take his glass and frowned when he found it empty.
"Truth be told, I don't get why this is so difficult for you. I've seen your Academy file." Jim ignored the frown and refilled the empty glass with two fingers of bourbon. "What? Did you doubt it? I'm the captain. I've read the files of all and every member of my crew. Did you believe that I wasn't going to check yours and Spock's? They were the first ones that I got."
Jim arched a brow and drank a long sip from his own glass. "The thing is, Bones, that you wouldn't believe how detailed those things are and I know that you're not the technical ignorant that you feign to be. You should be able to program that thing with your eyes closed."
"You don't understand," Leonard sighed.
"That's what I've said," Jim replied. "But I'd love to hear an explanation."
Leonard looked at him as if he were doubting between giving him an answer or tell him to fuck himself. Finally, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to explain himself.
"Programming this thing," he started speaking slowly, "is not only a matter of adding elements to a formula. There is no code for the sky of Cerberus II at dusk that I can choose and then add it to the simulation, you know? Maybe someday we'll have a data base for these kind of things, but we don't have it now. So I have to define an element called sky and specify the right hue of blue with the exact shade of turquoise. Then I have to draw those reddish things that seems like clouds but are not damned clouds. And I have to be precise. The patient who goes into the simulation has to feel it as something real. To do that, and do it well, you need... I don't know, maybe you need to have an artistic sense and I'm sure as hell that don't have it."
"Are you sure? Because you have dragged me to a whole lot of museums and art galleries." Jim leaned forward in his chair, ignoring the curious look of Spock. "I never thought you had problems to appreciate art."
"Don't be thick, Jim," Leonard snapped. "You can enjoy a Vermeer, but that doesn't mean that you can paint one. I can get how to make this thing work, but there is a significant difference between that and being able to make something useful with it."
And it wasn't that he hadn't tried. God only knew how many hours Leonard had spent working on that project, most of them in his free time, and his progress had been minimal. Starfleet had sent him the files of three crewmen who covered all the requirements to join the program and Leonard had studied them until he knew them at heart. He had attempted to program each of them once and again and remembering some of the worst results still caused him nightmares.
"Ah." Was Jim only answer.
Leonard nodded, worried. If things didn't improve drastically, and soon, the report he was going to have to send to Starfleet wasn't going to be easy to write. He did not like to admit a failure, but he liked even less not being able of giving his patients what they needed. Psychiatry might not be his strong point, but he was all that his crew had and he wasn't going to fail them.
"Is possible that the way you are approaching this problem is not the right one, Leonard?" Spock pointed after a long, uncomfortable silence.
"It isn't?" Leonard questioned. Even if he was not going to admit it out load, in the last few months he had learned that listening the Vulcan was a good thing. Sometimes it was only because his different and dispassionate point of view forced him to see new perspectives of problems, but it was always useful.
"If I understand correctly what I have heard, all your practices with the holodeck have been pointed to your patients' treatment. I find that attitude is professional and worthy of praise, but you might want to consider a different approach."
"What do you suggest, Spock?" Jim questioned before Leonard had the chance to say anything.
"Maybe," the Vulcan continued with his eyes fixed on Leonard, "you should forget momentarily the reason why you need to learn how to use the holodeck. Experience has taught me that humans learn more easily when they enjoy what they do. Even if this is not something that I would suggest to any other or in any other occasion, in this case I recommend that you forget your duty for a time and focus on the recreational functions of the facilities."
"Seriously?" Leonard couldn't believe what he was hearing. Reviewing the theory again, some more hours of practice was what he expected that Spock suggested. "Are you telling me that I should use the deck for fun when the rest of the crew cannot use it?"
"I only think that it is in the best interest of the crew that you learn to use it as quickly and accurately as possible.
"He's right, you know?" Jim said. "Work with something that you enjoy. Have fun. If what you say is true, the project is going right to hell so, what can we lose?"
"It wouldn't be better to admit that we're having problems? Maybe then they'd send us a specialist for this," Leonard insisted even when he already knew what the answer was going to be.
"Only if you want to spent the next few years justifying all your decisions and to give Johnson new ammunition to ask for a new change of CMO in the flagship."
Sure, over his dead body. Jim's had not been the only polemical commission in the Enterprise. Theory said that the captain had the right to choose his crew freely between the available officers of the Fleet. In practice, being CMO of the flagship was a highly regarded position. More than one officer with a lot of years of experience under his belt had wanted Leonard's office.
Also in theory, Leonard met all the medical criteria for his commission and nobody could deny that his battlefield promotion was valid, but a newly graduated cadet in a position like that was something that had never been seen before. Some people, with Admiral Johnson as his more vociferous spokesman thought that, in this specific case, the captain's decision should be overlooked.
They claimed that Kirk's lack of experience should be balanced with more veteran officers by his side. Leonard was sure that there were as many people in the headquarters waiting for him to screw it as there were praying for Jim to prove that he had only defeated Nero by a stroke of luck. He wasn't going to allow them the pleasure of watching him fail. Even if he had to follow Spock's absurd plan.
"I'll think about it," he said. Because of course he wasn't going to accept so easily. He downed his drink and stood up. "If you don't mind. It has been a long day. I think I need to sleep a few hours."
"Of course, Leonard."
"Right. Sleep on it Bones," Jim said taking again his place in front of the chessboard. "Breakfast tomorrow?"
"Yes. Sure." Leonard waved them good night and left the room without looking back. His cabin wasn't on the same deck than the other officers but near the sickbay, two floors and half a deck lower. It wasn't a long walk, but it gave him time enough to think again about Spock and his crazy idea. Damned if he had no reason.
As much as he hated it, he had to admit that his efforts were not going anywhere. He was at a dead point and, if he didn't do something to change it, and change it soon, the next few months where not going to be exactly fun for him. At this point, he had nothing to lose. He could try the Vulcan's method.
The problem now was to decide what he wanted to replicate. There were at least a dozen of scenarios that he'd enjoy. The cabin in the mountains where grandpa Horatio had taught him to fish, for example. The pub where he spent every weekend on his first year in the university, perhaps. The one with the redhead waitress that always flirted with him and served perfect pints. Or maybe that small beach where he and Jocelyn... but no. Even if it was a great memory, he wasn't going to work on anything that brought his ex into his life again. Not even a fake Jocelyn. In any case...
Yes, he decided just when the lift stopped on his deck. That could work. At least it was something that he should be able to replicate to the minimal detail he thought, and resumed his way to his cabin with reawaken enthusiasm. Suddenly, he could not wait to start working again.