McCoy stood outside Spock's quarters. He knew he was in for a lecture, he knew he should care.
But he couldn't.
"Come in, doctor," the First Officer said through the intercom.
McCoy entered and stood stiffly, waiting.
"I was hoping we could talk," Spock said, standing up and moving to the front of his desk. "Your reports have been substandard, your participation in meetings has been lackluster, and you seem distracted. That is not usual for you; you are usually a stellar officer."
"I'm sorry. I'll improve," McCoy replied flatly.
Spock knew something was wrong; McCoy would never have let pass the rare compliment from the Vulcan, nor, for that matter, would he stand there wordlessly regardless of what was said. While at other times Spock would be grateful for the silence, now it was disconcerting.
Finally, tiring of staring at the recalcitrant human, Spock lifted his eyebrow, asking for more of a reaction.
"Do you need something else, Mr. Spock?" McCoy sighed.
"No," Spock said haltingly, not knowing how to draw out what was troubling McCoy. This was not his strong point.
McCoy absently turned to the door.
"Though doctor…Leonard…if you have something bothering you…I suggest you talk to me or to Jim."
McCoy nodded as he exited the room.
The senior staff meeting started smoothly, but had now come to what had recently proved to be its most contentious part.
"OK, let's move on. Starfleet Command has sent an update on the Altarans. They're still working on getting the holdouts but aren't having much luck. We're to continue patrolling this and the surrounding sectors, as they're believed to be somewhere in the general vicinity. Luckily the Romulans are nowhere near this sector, so they're safe from them at least for now," Kirk said, hoping those present would simply accept their orders.
"Way out here?"
"'The general vicinity?'"
"You know how big is this 'general vicinity'?"
"All these sectors? Captain, why are we wasting our time on them?"
"I know, I know, we've been over this before. Starfleet has decided this is a priority," Kirk replied. So much for his dreams of a compliant staff.
"They have no home and they aren't after us. Can't we just leave them alone?" Scotty inquired.
"Look, part of this is for their own protection, others won't be as kind to them if they get them first. The Romulans sure as hell want to shut them up so we need to take the opportunity now to get them." Kirk wasn't real thrilled about having to adopt the party line on this one, but there was some truth to his protection spiel.
"But Altara was a peaceful Federation member. We left them to get annihilated by the Romulans, and now we're going to leave them again because Romulus is concerned about revenge from the survivors?"
"The concern about Altaran revenge is a concern of the Federation as well, and therefore our concern, I'll remind you," Kirk sighed, wondering why they had to have the same conversation each and every meeting. "We cannot risk being dragged into a larger war with the Romulans."
Silence, but at least some nods of acquiescence.
"Alright, and again, the primary reason for our patrolling this area is to stay in this room. Only the scientific explorations can be discussed. Dismissed."
Spock considered his next steps. The captain had received notification from the Federation that they had reason to believe the ability of the Altarans to evade capture was due to leaks from Starfleet personnel. The Enterprise had been one of a handful of ships routinely sent to locate the rebels, and Kirk came to Spock for help going through technical records that may reveal the source of any leaks from the crew. The user statistics from communications did not reveal any anomalies, but it was unlikely that they would. If there was a leaker, it was improbable that he or she would be foolish enough to spend hours transmitting banned messages. He had already covered summaries on unusual log on times, unusual destinations, and unusual frequencies, none of which showed promise.
Absentmindedly, he picked up the communication details report, his gaze falling on an innocuous message originating from the ship's medical facility and sent to a research station. He could see the receiver had forwarded it to another location. Opening the message, he saw it was from McCoy to a medical colleague. It detailed his latest hypotheses in the field of astrobiology and asked the colleague's opinion. The last line read "Michael, please send this to Kristen Sayre, destination at end of message, as her system for some reason deletes anything from my address."
Spock had never heard of an astrobiology facility on the colony planet noted in the doctor's message, and it was not a message non-scientists read for fun. He called up the rest of McCoy's messages, finding two others with forward requests to the same Ms. Sayre, each to go to different planets not known for research or much of anything. The last message was sent to an almost uninhabited nearby planet less than a day ago. He knew the next step would be to start analyzing those messages for hidden files or signals. He also knew that would probably mean bringing in specialized staff for help, thereby informing them, and ultimately the captain, of his suspicions.
It was time for answers from McCoy.
"Come into your office please Doctor," Spock said, entering sickbay at the end of McCoy's shift.
McCoy gave him a quizzical look but walked over and sat down at his desk.
"I have reason to be concerned for you, and you will not talk. I want to know why," Spock said softly, locking the door and pulling up a chair next to him.
McCoy sat still, silent, eyes cast down. Spock looked at him, waiting for a response, receiving none.
He was growing tired of having conversations with himself.
"Help me, Doctor. Make this easier for both of us. You have put me in an untenable situation. It appears you are doing something contrary to federation orders. I can inform the captain, and then he will have the burden of deciding what to do with you. I can ignore it, and run the risk that you are doing something that will cause great harm to a great many. I do not wish to do either, and you will not tell me what your activities have been, and this requires a response now. I will have the information I require; you will determine how it is provided." The statement was pleading, not threatening, despite its obvious implications.
McCoy visibly stiffened and swallowed hard but remained unforthcoming. The heavy silence continued, his apprehension growing as he knew Spock would not leave without answers this time.
"Doctor, I do not have time for this."
Spock moved towards him and McCoy jumped up, backing away from the approaching Vulcan.
"Don't do this to me!" For the first time in a while, McCoy showed signs of animation, his distress clear.
Wordlessly, Spock pushed him back down to a sitting position, leaning in, arm outstretched.
McCoy jerked as Spock found the meld points. Reaching out his other hand to McCoy's shoulder, holding him steady, he entered the doctor's mind. With little effort he sifted through McCoy's thoughts. He had no wish to intrude more than was necessary and knew he would have no need to do so, as what was required would undoubtedly be at the forefront of the doctor's mind.
Quickly he found what he had been seeking. McCoy's concern for his younger sister. A choice she made; a decision to risk herself for the Altarans and the others helping them. She was with them. McCoy did not know how she got involved, just that she had. Her communication with him. Hours, days, he spent, learning how to code the messages, to avoid detection, to send her warnings. To keep her away from his colleagues. Fear that he could not keep close enough tabs to keep others—Romulans, Klingons, random thugs—away.
Spock felt a new feeling washing over McCoy. Guilt. Guilt that he was a creature incapable of hiding his concern well enough to keep this from happening. To keep his sister and her friends safe from discovery and what would now inevitably happen to them. Guilt for leaving Georgia and all he had known. For not being there on Earth for his daughter while she was growing up. This, his chance to help someone he had left behind, and he had failed. He had failed his family.
Releasing McCoy, Spock watched the human shrink away. He could not completely control the emotions that had flowed into him, nor could he suppress his own reaction to his friend's suffering and the implications of his new certainty. Treason was not taken lightly by the Federation. Shaking, he got up to his feet, tugged at the bottom of his shirt, and tried to contain his shock.
"Spock, please. Forget those Vulcan ethics. Forget Federation duty. Let me help Brenda. Just let me get her out of there. Do what you have to with me; I accept that. But please just don't let those bastards get her," McCoy implored.
It struck Spock as he gazed at the begging human before him that Brenda must be of a similar temperament as her brother-sympathetic, brave, impulsive-to go out as she did. She had been in medical school, following her brother's path, and she abandoned all of that for an uncertain life, one that could now end in a prison colony if she was fortunate or worse if she wasn't.
"Doctor, the Romulans are not in the area. Do not worry for her safety," Spock said, trying to think of something that would provide comfort.
"But the Federation itself. Spock, she is a citizen of Earth, a Federation member, she'll be punished. You know it," McCoy said.
Spock could not talk about this now; he had to reflect on this, his duty to Starfleet, his duty to prevent war, his duty to his friend. He walked towards McCoy, taking him by the arm and leading him out of sick bay.
"What are you doing?" McCoy asked, looking over his shoulder as the Vulcan marched him towards the lift.
"I am confining you to quarters for the rest of the evening. I will return later with food." Arriving at McCoy's room, Spock nudged the doctor inside, let the doors close, and implemented a command lock.
"Spock, you're first officer, not a doctor," Kirk joked, trying to bring levity to the conversation. The staff updates with Spock were generally blissfully boring. This one was different. That Spock had felt the need to discuss this outside of the regular weekly meeting was cause for concern in and of itself.
"I can recognize dysfunction in humans, Captain."
Kirk hated to face it, but he knew Spock was right. The symptoms Spock had listed-the lethargy, the apathy, definitely the flat affect—all very un-McCoy, and Spock of all creatures had become particularly sensitive to this human's numerous peculiarities. Kirk had noticed the mood himself, but leading often distracted him from reflecting on less-than-immediate concerns. Spock and McCoy were the ones who most contemplated and informed him of problems with personnel; now one of them was the problem.
"I know, Spock. Hopefully he'll snap out of this," Kirk said as he retrieved his dinner from the generator.
"Captain, I would like to monitor his activities more closely. You are busy with the Altarans, and as I already have plans to investigate the nebula in this sector for the next week, I propose taking the doctor with me. I hope this will both provide him a diversion from his regular duties and an opportunity to discuss any problems he may be having," Spock said.
"You sure you won't kill each other?" Kirk quipped.
Spock remained unresponsive to the joke and stood waiting approval.
Despite the amusing image of his first officer and the good doctor trapped in a shuttlecraft together, reducing the odds of either living long or prospering, Kirk knew that of all the crewmembers besides himself Spock was the one McCoy was most likely to open up to.
"OK Spock, I know how stubborn you can be and as I'd like to finish dinner, you may take the doctor at your own risk. By the way, since when do you like pork ribs and sweet tea?"
"The doctor is not feeling well, so I am bringing him his dinner. Good evening, captain," Spock replied, turning to exit.
Kirk watched his retreating first officer. McCoy had been right; Spock did have a good bedside manner when it really mattered.