A/N: Self-indulgent H/C and Angst, all summary disclaimers still apply.
The people of Mnas III were advanced. By any standards, their progress was remarkable. Technological advances on the planet were such that the population desired nothing- not even to expand into space. Disease was nonexistent. Poverty, it seemed, wiped out. To an outsider, certainly, it was impressive.
But the Mnasons' reasons for opening talks were unknown. So far, nothing they said had indicated they wanted anything, much less something the Federation could offer. It was as big a mystery as ever when the Enterprise achieved orbit around the strange planet. The USS Lexington would've carried out the mission, had she not been undergoing repairs.
Jim Kirk had apologized profusely to Captain Wesley, but the Lexington's CO wouldn't hear of it.
"You take this one, Jim." Bob Wesley said. "You can try and take the fall any way you like, but I'm convinced it's no one's fault but Daystrom's. And the Admiralty's." Wesley grinned. "Besides, I've had enough of the Mnasons' interrogations. You're new meat, and they'll waste no time getting personal, Jim."
This was said half in jest and half as a warning. Apparently, the inhabitants of Mnas III did want for one thing: information.
"Will do, Bob. And you can deflect all you want but I am sorry about your ship. I hope repairs go smoothly and you can come take over the boring stuff so I can go back on patrol."
Wesley chuckled at that. It seemed odd, but the Enterprise ran into more nonsense than any other ship in the fleet, perhaps in the whole Federation. Of course, it meant there was never a dull moment.
"Got it Jim. But, I've got half a mind to take it easy and let you handle the whole thing."
It was Kirk's turn to laugh. "And they say Captain Wesley has no sense of humor!" The comm unit whistled and Kirk checked the chronometer. "That's my cue. Hate to cut and run, but I've got your mess to sort out."
"The requirements of the service, my friend. See you when I see you. Wesley out."
Kirk made his goodbyes and ended the transmission. That was the signal for their arrival. He was needed on the Bridge.
/*\\
"Now, Jim, I don't see the reason behind it."
"The reason, Bones?" Kirk checked the PADD one last time before passing it back to the young lieutenant. Kyle was ready and waiting behind the transporter console.
"Yes, Jim. The reason why they always want the senior officers to beam down." McCoy tapped his foot at the base of the transporter pad, decidedly not on the device itself. "It doesn't matter that Spock and I are hardly diplomats and all you've got in your favor is the grace of God and enough dumb luck to-"
"Alright, Bones." He sighed. It was like they did this every time. There was always something. Bones would take a set against the planet, the transporter, the mission- something- and then spend the rest of the prep time complaining about it.
Kirk strode over to the pad and dropped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "What's eating you? Really?"
For his part, McCoy managed to keep a scowl on his face. "You got your gut feelings, Jim, and I've got mine. If this is so blasted important to these people, why not wait for the Lexington, for some folks they knew? They want trustworthy negotiators or so they say, but settle for strangers. It was like they jumped at the chance to get us."
Kirk gave his friend a look. There was only so much paranoia he could stand on this ship and Bones was about to cross that threshold. "Are you saying they were desperate to get someone other than Wesley and his people?"
"No." McCoy huffed. "But don't you think it's a little too odd that the moment they dock for repairs, the Mnasons are clamoring for talks?"
"It wasn't broadcast to the whole galaxy, Bones." Kirk put his hands on his hips. Sometimes, it was a bit too much. "The timing was bad, sure, but what makes you think it was anything more than a coincidence? It's not like the Mnasons have an invisible ship following us around."
McCoy jabbed a finger in Kirk's direction. "No, but the Romulans do. A people as technologically advanced as the Mnasons could've pulled something off."
This was getting old. They'd have to beam down as soon as Spock arrived. The First Officer was stowing some volatile chemicals in the lab and could not be rushed for man nor beast nor supernova.
"I think you play the devil's advocate too much for someone with an aversion to pointed ears."
"And I think you're too reckless by half and one of these days, you're gonna-"
"Captain. Doctor McCoy."
Spock chose this moment to enter. He had not a hair out of place- despite having moments ago been incased in protective gear- and seemed unfazed by the tension in the room. Some of that did ease upon his arrival. Kirk got out of his stance to address his First Officer.
"Spock. Everything went smoothly in the labs I hope?"
Spock inclined his head. "Indeed Captain. The samples of Hannacium II are contained. The experimentation process is set to run according to schedule."
"Excellent news, Spock." Kirk clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Alright, gentlemen, I'm ready to stretch my legs. Mister Kyle, are we all set?"
Kyle beamed. "Set and ready, sir. As soon as you like, I have the coordinates for transport."
"Wonderful. Let's get this show on the road."
/*\\
"And your combat skills, Captain? Do you find them more or less valuable than your wits? Do they account equally in your estimation?"
Wesley was right. The Mnasons were not only inquisitive, but borderline intrusive. Kirk had given Bones strict orders not to get riled, and to Spock he simply nodded. Spock understood.
Thackeros was the head of the province and had come to meet the Enterprise's envoy as the planetary leader had fallen ill. Governor Thackeros- Kirk was instructed to use this title as the Mnason term didn't translate smoothly- was also in charge of Kirk's interrogation.
There was a proper noun for it on Mnas III. It came down to something like 'the Knowing' and it was standard protocol when encountering new people. This must be what Wesley was talking about Kirk mused as he walked the gardens with the Governor. No wonder he was excited to dump this off on me.
Kirk took a breath. "I'd say these are incompatible areas of comparison. Of course, when speaking in terms of combat, they're more comparable, but each can lead in to the other. For example-" He recalled the encounter with the Gorn and readied himself to recount. "I've been in a life-or-death situation before with an enemy I neither understood nor could reason with. I had to think of a way to defeat an enemy stronger than myself. It took what I knew of combat- strategy- and my understanding of chemistry to eventually come to a solution."
Thackeros seemed almost impressed. He blinked his solid black eyes, momentarily flashing two pairs of pearly eyelids.
"And did you defeat this enemy?" The Governor's tone much clarified the meaning of 'defeat'.
"He was unable to continue fighting, and I let him live." Kirk wouldn't go too much into detail if he could. It wasn't exactly a pleasant memory.
Thackeros didn't push the subject. "I see. This is admirable, Captain, to show mercy thus. Is this the way of your people?"
Kirk managed half a grin. "I'd like to say most of them feel the same way as I do. Though, it would be arrogant to presume I speak for all humanity- let alone all the peoples of the Federation- I do believe that in most places I know, mercy is favored."
Thackeros nodded. Kirk supposed it was a look of contemplation, but the long, egg-like face made it harder to tell. The Mnasons looked almost like old Earth's idea of aliens, with their large black eyes and reptilian skin. But the people of Mnas III ran more… pastel in coloring, and their heads were not so large as the balloons found in ancient films.
"Now, I've had about enough of that!"
Kirk groaned internally. He could hear McCoy from across the courtyard. It seemed he was in the middle of a disagreement with his own guide.
"Doctor McCoy, I see no reason for offense."
"No reason-!"
Kirk found the pair on the adjacent sidewalk. It looked like McCoy was hard-pressed to rein in his temper.
"I reckon things may be different here," McCoy managed in an even tone, "but where I come from, questioning a man's oath is an insult."
Oh boy.
"I only wished for clarification, Doctor."
"After I answered variations thereupon at least half a dozen times?"
The Mnason blinked. Kirk exchanged a look with Thackeros and decided to jump in.
"Doctor. Councilwoman. I trust everything's going well."
McCoy's shoulders slumped a bit. Not a question, then, more like a command. He glanced over at his Captain before turning back to Councilwoman Nikoyla.
"I apologize for my outburst, ma'am."
The Councilwoman seemed to deflate a bit as well, but not so much as the Doctor. "I believe I understand that it is within reason." She said with little conviction. "It was perhaps what you humans call 'pushing it'."
Kirk stepped in to do some diplomacy of his own. "I'm sure the Doctor meant no offense either." He shot a brief look at Bones. "On Earth, physicians hold their oaths in the highest regard. It's not only a matter of honor but of principle."
Thackeros warmed up faster than Nikoyla was going to. "I see. Forgive us these questions, Captain, Doctor, but you are new and we wish to know you well. You may also ask us anything you wish. We have few secrets here on Mnas III."
They did not appear to. Spock and his guide appeared through one of the archways, engrossed in some sort of discussion on data optimization. Once the pair realized they were not so alone, Spock straightened and the Mnason bowed to her superiors.
"Captain. Governor. Councilwoman." Spock inclined his head. "We have been discussing the use of an aluminum alloy in data chips. Madam Floro has explained the Mnason process to me. It is quite fascinating."
Kirk grinned. Leave it to Spock to find another scientist. He and McCoy were stuck with bureaucrats, the both of them.
"I'm glad for it, Spock. There's much to be learned on both sides, I think. We can certainly know each other better if we're willing to share."
McCoy didn't cross his arms, but he felt like that was directed at him. Blast it all, he had been sharing. He'd been the model officer, answering question after question about his methods, his motivations, his oath. Nikoyla kept pressing him. She wanted to know if he'd do the same for an enemy officer. Would he help an enemy officer who had previously been convicted of a crime? Or an enemy who had killed one of his colleagues? McCoy'd gotten sick of it.
But maybe things would start looking up. Jim and Spock were back. They'd be enough of a buffer between him and this uppity councilwoman that they might just make it through without interplanetary incident.
"Who'd've guessed it, Spock, you finding a conversation about computers?"
"As it is my area of expertise, Doctor I-"
Spock recoiled, shocked, green spurting from a hole in his uniform. Another. Another.
McCoy's eyes bugged. Before he could so much as shout, Spock was collapsing. He heard his Captain's cry and managed a half turn. The gold uniform was already switching red.
He lunged, only to find himself dragged back by two sets of hands. Thackeros and Nikoyla had moved to either side of him and now they had their claws in him. McCoy could feel his pulse pounding against the pressure on his arms, the dirt under his heels giving way as he was pulled back. Jim and Spock were on the grass. Twitching, writhing. It was then he screamed. All the panic swirling in his gut made itself heard. He couldn't hear it over the blood in his ears, but his lungs were bursting.
McCoy watched from ten yards as the bodies stilled. A switch was flipped, and there all the numbers were. Statistics flashed across his mind, human and Vulcan survival rates, percentage blood loss over time, length before transfusion was possible. Arterial damage. Organ damage. Loss of oxygen… collapse…
He surged forward again and it took another set of arms to keep him. They pulled him further and further back until he couldn't see them anymore. It hit like a freight train. His legs buckled, but he was hardly grateful for the hands holding him up. All the air was gone. There was just the hot weight of… He couldn't bring his racing mind or his hammering heart to a slow. Not until the fog crept in and the rest of him gave way.
Jim and Spock were gone. It was too late.
/*\\
"Shock."
"It is their word for it?"
"Yes." Thackeros checked the data once again to be sure. The Lexington's language banks had been offered freely. "It has affected him deeply. I did not realize humans could even do this, with their history of wars and death. Could they not rid themselves of this mechanism? How does it work with their soldiers?"
Nikoyla stared at the unconscious human. He was irritable and irritating in equal parts. She couldn't see how one so combative had managed to work his way through the ranks, or managed to land a position on the flagship. Especially since his coping mechanism was unconsciousness. Were humans really so pathetic, or just his one?
"Perhaps he is of weak constitution. Perhaps he always faints at the sight of death."
Thackeros paused to consider. Many men of the Lexington had died in battle so they were told, had seen their crewmates die and they had not answered to these symptoms. Nikoyla could have a point. This would assuredly require further study. So much about humans- and about their Federation- was unknown to them. They'd heard talk of peace and of aid, mutual benefits and cooperation, but what evidence was there? And how could they know that these humans would not take a set against them? How could they know they had made real allies?
"He is waking."
They watched the human doctor in silence. It was clear he was still deeply shocked. They watched as he explored the confines of his prison with his eyes. The rest of his body did not move, except for a minute tremor in his chest. Sooner than they expected the doctor surged to his feet. He swore at the ceiling, pouring out phrases Thackeros could not match in the language banks.
Anger. There it was. Thackeros had been expecting it. Humans often reacted with hostility to things that upset them. Certainly this human was not calm. He was not asking answerable questions or acting rationally. Perhaps, he thought, we should have spared the Vulcan instead.
But even sooner did the doctor tire again. The flame of anger that had burned so brightly now fizzled out. It was replaced with something else. Thackeros consulted the Lexington's poets. Misery. Grief. Woe. The doctor poured out such a volume of emotion that Thackeros had to look away. He observed Nikoyla, the hard lines on her face unmoved by the doctor's display.
If anyone had taken a set against anyone else, it was Nikoyla. She had activated her transponder very shortly after being assigned the Doctor's case. Thackeros had not even had time to weigh Kirk's character for the Trying. Yet she had chosen so quickly.
He considered that Nikoyla and the Doctor may not have been a good match. Floro was infinitely more patient and accomplished in dealing with difficult cases. Perhaps Nikoyla, her eyes hard as she watched the human grieve, had hardly begun the Knowing at all.
"It must be their ritual." She observed shortly.
Thackeros was not as sure.
/*\\
Floro would bring the news. They were stationed under the city hospital for safety as much as convenience. If the human doctor experienced complications, they could have him seen to in moments. But a dual purpose was served here. Floro prepared herself.
She had seen some of the doctor's grief. She had seen the like few times in her lifespan. Old as she was, Floro was not so frail. If the need arose, she could carry the human to his appointed destination. The Trying must be completed, though she did not wholly agree with such a grievous test. Diplomatic deals had always been decided on less, amongst their people. Nikoyla thought the test must be harder for strangers.
She opened the door slowly. He was there, curled up on the cot like a wounded animal. Only, he had his back to the door. She supposed he might be asleep, for why else would he turn away from what in his mind must mean danger? Was he so absorbed that he did not recognize danger anymore?
But the doctor's head came up after a few moments of silence. No, he was aware. Floro could see his eyes, moist and red as if they had been attacked. There was slack in his posture, as if he was being held up by a string. She was momentarily taken aback. In his eyes, she saw a thousand mothers deprived of their children, families mourning, inconsolable after their loved ones had passed. Floro knew despair. Nikoyla might be very wrong indeed.
"Doctor McCoy. I am allowed to come only because there is an emergency. One of the council has taken deadly ill. There is an operation scheduled but we-"
Her voice died when those eyes locked with hers. There was some spark of recognition, some awareness of what he was being asked. He looked at her, and she knew he was willing. Floro felt in this moment lower than the dirt. Guilt welled up in her chest. She knew Thackeros and Nikoyla and the others were watching, but she could not stop. She had been a nurse once, long before medicine had become simple. In all these years, how had they forgotten? Did only the bleeding need care? Did only the horrible accidents deserve attention anymore?
Floro crossed the room in an instant. Her long legs were not the reason for her haste. She registered surprise that the doctor had not so much as moved. He did not care what she did to him. That was resignation.
"Please come." Floro said softly. She reached out and touched his arm. There was an accident in need of attention.
For a moment, it looked like the doctor might lean into her touch, accept her help. Floro was not very surprised when he did not. He stood, slowly, on his own power. She led him to the door.
Thackeros was right. This was all a huge mistake. As soon as Floro saw him again, she would tell him. She'd tell Nikoyla too. They needed to stop this.
/*\\
McCoy stared at the wall of his cell. Gray. Blank. He was locked in an alien cell without hope of escape, or hope of any kind at all. Jim and Spock were gone. The Enterprise could rescue him but what then? It was too late. It was hours too late.
He'd wrapped his arms around his chest and turned his back on the door. It didn't matter who came in. It didn't matter what they did with him. The worst was already over. What else could they possibly do?
His legs were folded up nearly touching his elbows. McCoy had adopted the position without much thought. What was there to think about? His mind had already conjured up the figures. He knew the ghosts like he knew the cell. They were both empty, both beyond doing anything about. McCoy was trapped.
They might as well have sentenced him to die with his friends. It seemed they saw value in a physician. Too bad those first injuries hadn't been a test. The Mnasons didn't have much use for deadweight.
McCoy stayed still. Not much point in moving around. If they wanted him, they could get him. That Nikoyla was wrong about his oath. He was as good as his word, for however long he had left in the world.
There were hurried footsteps in the hall, perhaps another emergency. McCoy sighed, but he wouldn't move until he was collected. He could barely muster up the strength to draw breath. Why bother until they had him leave?
The door opened. Silent hinges, but the clink of the lock disengaging, the whoosh of air as the cell and the hall were connected. There was no voice. No summons. Was he that pitiful, that they couldn't so much as check if he was alive?
McCoy lifted his head, craning his neck to see which of them had come for him now.
His heart stuttered. It wasn't supposed to happen so early. So vividly. He wasn't prepared for the apparition that stood in the doorway, devoid of the uniform top McCoy knew to be soaked with blood. Instead, it was a black clad figure that stood opposite him. Maybe it was fitting that the grim reaper would appear as one of his dearest friends.
"Just as cold as the real thing, though. You here for my soul?"
"Negative, Doctor. I am here…"
Spock stopped, having taken only one step through the doorway. He looked cold, chilled in his t-shirt but not so much like death. McCoy's heart wavered again. His voice was warm, like life, like his friend. It was then he noticed the little holes in the shirt. He wouldn't be able to see green for the black.
"I was… told you were inconsolable."
McCoy crumbled. Any relevant doubts were shoved aside. So what if Spock wasn't really there- he couldn't be- but it was so like Spock, showing up when no one else could. The blasted hobgoblin always came through when there was no one left. McCoy managed to get to his feet, stumbling. Spock's ghost met him halfway, and McCoy extended an arm to prove to himself he was losing it. It was always better to know than to wonder.
His hand hit solid flesh. McCoy frowned, a firm believer in the brain's ability to trick the body, but when he looked up at that face, that blasted eyebrow questioning the logic of prodding someone in the collarbone…
He wasn't aware he was crying until he inhaled his tears. McCoy fought for oxygen so he could get his mind straight. So he could puzzle through the fact that Spock was alive in front of him. Of course, Vulcan sensibilities being as they were, Spock remained frozen. He didn't know what to do with a sobbing human.
McCoy did the only thing he could. He threw his arms around Spock and buried his face in the Vulcan's shoulder. It was a disgusting display of emotion and he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't stop the hitching breaths or the shaking or any of it. Spock had been dead, and now he was standing here. It was a mystery too great for McCoy's mind to process. Right now, all he could do was hug his friend and cry.
Spock wasn't an expert. He knew this for himself, and he was sure the Doctor was aware. There wasn't any logic in this grief, but Spock could not say he didn't understand. Something awful broiled in his stomach, a rage that swelled up his throat and could not be extinguished. He wrapped his arms around McCoy for support and it only seemed to incite more emotion. The Doctor's physical responses could not be controlled, Spock knew. No logic would help him. Only time.
He guided McCoy to the cot lest the Doctor collapse. Spock knew too well what it was like to witness the death of a friend. He could only imagine what it was like, what the feeling of Jim and McCoy being ripped from him would be. It was only logical that the Doctor would feel… distressed…
It could have been hours, but Spock knew it was only minutes before McCoy started to quiet. The tidal wave of emotion had swept the Doctor's energy away.
"How, Spock?" McCoy rasped. "And Jim!" He bolted upright, nearly catching Spock's chin with his head. "Tell me Jim's alive too! I… I have to know."
With infinite care, Spock pulled McCoy's hands away from where they'd been bunched in his shirt. He held them for a moment, before letting McCoy have them back.
"He is." Spock said, a tinge of relief evident in his tone. "May I show you?" Hesitantly, he held up one hand.
Recognition clicked in McCoy's expression. His concern far outweighed any doubts he had about melding. And this was Spock. Spock would only do the right thing.
"Please, Spock. Show me Jim's alive too."
The event was unpleasant from every angle. They were one, and Spock could see as he had seen, and as McCoy had seen. They had both watched Jim 'die', while only Spock was aware of the truth. He could feel the barb in his skin. It jolted with electricity, as did the others on his chest and back. Green dye had burst from the projectile on contact, staining Spock's shirt. He couldn't move as he fell. Spock was helpless as the spasms completed the illusion.
McCoy couldn't know, and was led to the scene than unfolded next. Mnasons had come for them, carrying them to a different set of rooms. Their stained uniforms were taken away and they saw through Spock's eyes the remainder of the paralysis. Thackeros had come to him, pleading. Jim was all fury and disbelief- loud and large and living. He demanded to speak to the parties responsible for the stunt. Spock added in a gentle assurance, as he had on Theta Kiokis II*, to convince McCoy of this reality.
The meld ended. McCoy inhaled sharply. He feared the waterworks would start again, but they didn't. Spock had done the job. Jim was alive. Spock was alive. This was all some kind of stunt but he didn't care anymore. He couldn't care.
"Get me outta here, Spock." His voice was low and thick with emotion. "I'm done. Take me to Jim."
Spock nodded. He stood, taking a good deal of the Doctor's weight with him. They left the cell together, McCoy on his own two feet.
/*\\
Jim was finished with them. All of them. They could live out the rest of their lives doing whatever it was they pleased.
They wanted to test the Federation's mercy. He didn't know the depth of friendship between the officers of the Enterprise. He hadn't known how it would affect Doctor McCoy.
Once he could move again, Jim had exploded. He could tell the Mnasons had never seen anything like the unchecked fury of James T Kirk. They were educated in the error of their ways and shamed into never repeating such an experiment. Trust was not built on lab tests, but on friendship. People responded to kindness, not cruelty.
"If you knew anything of mercy-" He glowered as he let the administration have it, "- you would have let him see. Don't you understand? This could kill him!"
Spock had been allowed to tend to McCoy. Jim supposed it was better this way. He got a chance to let the Mnasons have it.
And boy did he tell them. He singled Nikoyla- McCoy's guide- out for most of his tirade after seeing her detached expression and the cool way she spoke of tests. Jim hammered the point home about McCoy's oath and his mission to help those in need regardless of the circumstances.
"Perhaps we ought to test your mercy." He spat. "Since all I've seen here is the great lack of it. You would kill a man's family- because on the Enterprise we are family- in front of him and lock him up without a word? You would do that to test… his… mercy."
Thoroughly shamed, the Mnasons offered apologies and what recompense they could. They had abolished disease amongst their kind and promised to treat McCoy as well as possible for the strain. Jim was afraid it would mean years off his friend's life if something weren't done. Bones was strong, but could he take a shock like that in stride?
He was storming out of the meeting hall when he was nearly knocked off his feet. Something warm and awfully clingy was wrapping itself around him. The frustration melted right off as he pulled his friend close. Bones was safe.
"I take it Spock found you then?"
Bones mumbled something into his shirt before pulling back. "Jim, I thought y'all were dead."
He squashed the flare of anger and smiled instead. "You're always telling me I'm too stubborn to die. What happened to that?"
McCoy's chuckle was weak, but he tried. "This time I reckon it wasn't your fault. I can give you that much." Bones looked weary. It must've been… Jim couldn't quantify it.
"We're taking you back to the ship, checking ourselves into Sickbay, and sleeping through the rest of the mission. Captain's orders." Jim grinned. "How does that sound?"
A real laugh this time, but no comment on how willing Jim was to go to Sickbay. Kirk was afraid for Bones, after watching that. Just because his friend walked and talked didn't mean he was OK. Far from it, in his experience. And as a doctor, knowing death as intimately as any soldier… A good night's sleep might be nigh on impossible.
Spock caught on. "It is a logical plan, Captain. I am sure rest will be beneficial." There was something in his eyes, something that conveyed confidence. Success. Spock believed it would work out, the two of them being there. As long as they were by his side, a constant reassurance that this was all a bad dream; that was enough.
McCoy slept through Scotty's debriefing, the Bridge crew's response, and the Captain's full authorization of any swearing Scotty wanted to direct at the planet on his behalf.
The ship's night was peaceful as can be. And boy, did Montgomery Scott swear.
A/N: *Being the mind-meld in Spectre of the Gun
Edit: Guess who's an idiot? It's the airhead who put 'Spectre of the Gun' before 'The Ultimate Computer' for the sole purpose of Extra Angst. I can't even believe... You know what? Forget it. Star Trek AU where 'Spectre of the Gun' is in season 2. I'm so mad.