The Endangered Species Act, Part 1

"Oh hell," McCoy muttered under his breath as he waited for Spock to arrive in Sickbay. He checked the chronometer on the wall for what he felt must have been the hundredth time. Spock's appointment was in three minutes, and McCoy knew that he would be exactly on time. Not early like some or late like most. Oh no, that damn pointy-eared bastard would walk through the door at precisely 1730 hours, which gave McCoy three more minutes to sweat this one out. He hated being the bearer of bad news. How in the hell was he going to explain this to Spock?

Should he try to lighten the mood and deliver the information with an attempt at levity? No: humor would be lost on Spock, and this was going to be a punch in the gut anyway. There was no need to deliver it with a punch line. Should he just be blunt and blurt it out? That wouldn't work either. This was a delicate subject and as much as Spock sometimes got under his skin, he deserved at least some dignity in this. Not that there was much to be had under these circumstances, but still… Maybe he should just hand Spock the PADD as soon as he walked in and let him read the order for himself. Spock would want to see it anyway, and he could take himself completely out of the loop. McCoy shook his head. No, Spock needed to actually hear the news from someone, not just read those cold, precise words: "After careful consideration, we have decided that the logical course of action is to-" He snorted to banish the words from his mind. "Logical my ass," he muttered under his breath.

McCoy glanced at the chronometer again: 1729 hours. Almost time. He opened his desk drawer one last time and made sure that the PADD was still there. He hadn't touched it since he'd put it there hours ago when he'd come on duty, but there was a comfort in double-checking, even if was at least the tenth time that he'd done it. With a grumble, he shut the drawer and walked out of his office into Sickbay.

There were several crewmembers already seated on biobeds, each waiting in turn for examinations and subsequent injections. At the far end of Sickbay, Chapel was finishing up with an ensign. McCoy watched as she placed her tricorder on the bed next to her patient and picked up a hypo from the nearby tray. "This may sting a bit," she said as she pressed the hypo to the side of his neck.

"Ow!" the ensign yelped as the hypo discharged. McCoy gave the man the best sympathetic smile he could muster under the circumstances. The ensign frowned and rubbed the injection site as he slid off the biobed and made his way towards the doors. Chapel moved to the next bed where a young woman from the Sciences Department was patiently waiting her turn when McCoy heard the doors slide open. He turned to face the doors and suppressed a sigh as Spock walked through them. 'Time to get this over with,' McCoy thought.

"Hello there, Commander Spock," McCoy said with a too-wide smile and forced cheer as the Vulcan entered the room, neatly avoiding the exiting crewman. "We could set the chronometers around here by you, I swear. Say, I need to speak with you for a moment. Would you mind coming with me please?"

Spock stopped his advance towards the empty biobed in the corner, one eyebrow on the rise, and looked at him. "Doctor McCoy, may I inquire as to why-"

"Why sure you can," McCoy interrupted, not willing to go into anything in front of other people. He would spare Spock that much. "Inquire all you want- in my office." Without waiting to see if Spock was following, he turned towards his office and walked inside.

As McCoy made his way behind his desk, Spock entered. McCoy took his seat and motioned for Spock to take the one on the other side of the desk as the door swished shut behind him. When he remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back, McCoy knew that this wasn't going to go smoothly.

"Doctor," Spock said, "Since it would be illogical for you to invite me into your office merely to administer my quarterly contraceptive injection, there must be another reason you have asked me to join you here. I would like to know that reason."

"Got someplace to be, Spock? What's the rush? Got a hot date tonight or something?"

He expected some kind of verbal reply from Spock, but when he said nothing, simply continued standing quietly on the other side of the desk, McCoy realized that he'd hit the nail on the head and Spock did indeed have a date tonight. Cringing inwardly for his lack of tact, McCoy leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"Okay, well, let's get this over with then. You're right, I called you in here to talk about that shot of yours. And you need to sit down, 'cause this is gonna take a little time. The sooner we get started, the sooner you can be on your way."

Spock's brows rose ever so slightly at McCoy's words. The doctor watched as Spock quietly sat down, a very slight and subtle air of impatience about him. 'Yeah, you definitely don't want to keep her waiting, do you Spock?' McCoy thought. Hell, who could blame him?

"Spock…" McCoy began, and paused, still uncertain how best to proceed. Across the desk, Spock regarded him with curiosity. 'Oh hell,' McCoy thought as he looked away, unable to meet the Vulcan's eyes. He turned back to find Spock still looking at him.

"Look…" he tried again, noting that Spock's eyebrow was on the rise again. "I don't know how to tell you this…"

"It would be best if you came to the point, Doctor. Time is of the essence, as you have pointed out." Spock sounded just a trifle irritated to McCoy's ears. McCoy frowned slightly and decided that he was right.

"Fine then. I'm afraid that I can't give you a contraceptive injection. I have orders from Starfleet that say otherwise."

"Indeed," Spock said. "To what purpose would Starfleet Command issue such an order? Is this an order affecting all members of the crew, or does this order pertain only to me?" McCoy couldn't help but feel sympathy for him.

"It's just you. It seems that Starfleet has received a request from what is left of the Vulcan High Council not to give them to you. Apparently, they have decided that they need your help rebuilding the species. In light of what has happened, Starfleet has chosen to honor their request."

Spock stared levelly at him from the other side of the desk. "What precisely do you mean, Doctor?" he said slowly. "What kind of assistance do they require?"

"They want you to provide them with... ah... biological help," McCoy replied, the words coming out in a rush after that. "I can't give you your shot because they need you to be fertile so that you can assist in the reproduction of the Vulcan species."

Silence hung between them for several seconds. McCoy watched as Spock frowned slightly and looked away, apparently gazing at some point over McCoy's left shoulder. When he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers together in front of his chest, McCoy knew that he was deep in thought.

"That order was issued to all Vulcans of childbearing age six point three seven months ago," Spock said at last, his words coming out slightly slower than normal, which McCoy had learned meant that he was suppressing his emotions. "I was not included as it was felt that my assistance would put them at a… disadvantage."

Something about the way Spock hesitated as he said that last word didn't sit well with McCoy. It seemed to carry some kind of extra weight, like it somehow addressed more than just the present situation. Spock had left Vulcan at a fairly young age: could there have been more to it than a desire to join Starfleet? Vulcans weren't exactly the most tolerant of the Federation's species, and growing up as a hybrid among them couldn't have been easy. Perhaps a little gentle probing could clue him in.

"Well, they don't feel that way any more, Spock," McCoy drawled. "Of the approximately twenty-two thousand Vulcans left, only sixty-three percent of those individuals are fertile, mostly due to age. "

"Sixty-two point seven four," Spock corrected him automatically, still not meeting his gaze. Red alert alarms were beginning to go off in McCoy's head. This wasn't good.

"Alright, sixty-two point seven four percent then. Whatever. Either way, that's an awfully small genetic pool from which to draw, especially if you're looking at rebuilding an entire species. I guess they've broadened their scope a bit and are now willing to accept help from those whom they may have rejected before."

McCoy watched Spock carefully as he silently sat across from him, staring off into space as he processed the information. He thought he could see just the tiniest tightening around the corners of Spock's eyes. There was no doubt that he was taken aback by this turn of events. But there was also something deeper there, some underlying pain as well, if McCoy was any judge. He wondered how many times Spock had been subjected to the proverbial slap in the face because of his mixed heritage, something that he had no control over.

Now here was another one. At first, they didn't want him because he wasn't entirely Vulcan and his pedigree wasn't up to snuff. They had issued the mandate to everyone else and had left him out. Now, after careful consideration, they were going to be so gracious as to allow- no, order- him to breed with them. Lovely. McCoy wondered if it had been done by design, if that's what the Vulcans had intended all along, to make Spock play nice, leave Starfleet like he had originally intended after the loss of his homeworld, and come back to the fold.

"I see," Spock said after a moment. "How to they intend to accomplish this?"

"It'll take six weeks for the effects of the contraceptives to wear off completely," McCoy replied. "At that time, you come back, we extract the material, and ship it off to the colony. It's a pretty simple procedure, really. Over and done with in five minutes. Once that's done, you can have your shots back."

"And what if I refuse?" Spock said calmly and quietly as he turned to stare pointedly at McCoy. Shocked, McCoy could only stare back at Spock. His expression was carefully controlled, but his gaze was hard and steely. McCoy felt pinned.

"What?" McCoy yelped. "Refuse? Spock, Starfleet orders aren't optional! You obey them or you get your ass court-martialed! Simple as that! You know that!"

"I do indeed," Spock replied coolly. "But I have reasons for asking about the consequences I should face if I decline to comply with this order from Starfleet."

"What, personal reasons or something?" McCoy asked, incredulous.

Spock merely raised one brow in reply, making McCoy shake his head and snort in derision. Without taking his gaze off of Spock, he reached down, opened the drawer, and withdrew the PADD with a muttered curse.

"Well, it doesn't go into explicit detail about what you'd be up against, but since it is a court-martial offense to disobey a direct order, I'd say that at the very least you'd get a reduction in rank or an administrative job," he said. He placed the PADD on the desk in front of Spock and continued. "At worst, they'd ship you off to program computers on some penal colony at the hind end of space."

He watched as Spock reached for the PADD and picked it up, quickly scanning the message. McCoy had read it enough times that he knew most of it by heart.

He gave Spock a moment to glance over the signed order from Admiral Komack. But when he saw the Vulcan scrolling down the PADD, obviously intending to read the attached request from the Vulcan Council and the protests from Admiral Pike right there, McCoy got up and leaned back against the bulkhead. He cleared his throat to get Spock's attention. When the Vulcan looked up at him, McCoy pointed to the PADD.

"Put that down for a minute, Spock, you can read the rest later. I've got a few things that I need to say to you." Quietly Spock laid the PADD down on the desk.

"This whole situation is really screwed up," McCoy said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Personally, and off the record, I don't agree with these orders, not one damn bit. It's your body and what's left of your planetary government should have no say over your reproductive freedom. But in this case my hands are tied. As much as I'd like to, I can't give you your contraceptive shot."

McCoy noticed that the tightness around Spock's eyes had relaxed a bit. Good. Maybe now he could say the next part without getting his head torn off.

"That said, I can understand where the Vulcan Council is coming from. I don't like what they're doing, but I don't see as they have a whole lot of choice, either. They're looking at the possible extinction of the Vulcan species and they are doing everything that they can to prevent it. This is all about survival, living to see the next day, or the next generation. Right now, they can't afford the luxury of morality, or allowing sentient beings to choose to procreate, or not, as they wish. 'Personal reasons' don't enter into this equation, not for you, not for anybody. They need new members of the species to replace the ones that they've lost, and they need them now. The Vulcan Council is making the hard call and living with the consequences. At this time, this is the right thing for them to do. That doesn't have to mean that anyone has to like it."

Spock gave him a thoughtful look. After a moment, he said, "You are correct on all counts, Dr. McCoy. It has been said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. As distasteful as it may be, this is… the logical course of action."

"Indeed it is," McCoy said as he pushed away from the bulkhead and approached Spock. "You know, as bad as you think you've got it, you don't have it as bad as some others. You should thank your lucky stars that you're not female. You'd probably be pregnant right now."

Spock's eyes widened at that comment. Clearly, he hadn't considered what the female members of his species were being forced to endure. All Spock had to do was provide a test tube of semen and he was done. 'He has it easy', McCoy thought.

"Spock," McCoy said gently, "this thing stinks to high heaven. But it is what it is and there ain't a damn thing that anyone can do about it. Why don't you take the PADD with you, read it over, and sit down and think about it for awhile. You've still got six weeks before you're due back here, so you've got some time. Talk to Lieutenant Uhura about this. I'm sure she'll have some insight."

"I fully intend to speak with the lieutenant about this matter," Spock said as he stood up and tucked the PADD under his arm, clearly ready to leave.

"You know, she's due for her contraceptive shot next month. It's great that you're both doing your part and being responsible and mature adults, but there's no need for the two of you to double up on something like this. One shot covers both of you in this case."

Spock stopped and turned around to look at him, the ghost of some expression fleeting across his features. "Thank you, Doctor. I shall take it under advisement." The door swished open as Spock turned away and McCoy followed him out into Sickbay.

As Spock exited Sickbay, McCoy noticed that Ensign Chekov sat on the nearest biobed. He waved Chapel off and took the hypo from her as he walked over to the youngest member of the crew.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" McCoy said as he leaned into Chekov's youthful face. "You're only seventeen! Have you even got a girlfriend yet?"

"I vill be eighteen next month," Chekov beamed. "And vhile I do not have a girlfriend yet, someday some young lady vill be lucky enough to catch me."

"Don't you mean someday you'll get lucky?" McCoy grumbled good-naturedly.

"Vell, yes," Chekov answered, not at all deterred. "It vill be a lucky day for us both."

"Well, c'mon Lucky, time to get your shot," McCoy said. "At least when some young lady does finally manage to catch you, we won't have babies having babies. Now this won't hurt a bit..."