A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, follows, and favorites. They really keep me going. Spring break is here and I've had time to flush out another chapter. I'm hoping school will slow down a little bit and I'll be able to push out chapters faster. Another nice McCoy/Amelia moment is coming your way.
STARDATE 2260.104
Beta Quadrant
Her muscles ached, her arms burning in protest as she shoved against another crate. With all the technology now available to her, physical labor hadn't really been necessary. But today had called for every ounce of determination she had.
The captain was diverting power on the Enterprise, the transporters prioritized for critical tasks. Which meant she had been lifting crates all morning and using dollies to get them to the shuttle bay. When she had started to become flushed, she shrugged off her jacket, dressing down to just her tank top and pants.
As she walked back out of the shuttle to retrieve another crate, she let her eyes roam across the shuttle bay, taking in the way everything seemed to operate like a well oiled machine. Scotty's team was occupied with loading their own shuttle, tools and equipment being carried inside as he gave order after order.
Every now and then she'd catch a glimpse of Kirk or Spock as they made rounds, ensuring that everyone would be prepped to go by their scheduled departure time.
To her left was another team, blue uniforms standing around a man with frazzled hair. Though she couldn't see him past the cluster of people, she knew it was McCoy. He must have finished giving them instructions because the small circle broke apart and everyone headed in different directions. Except for the good Doctor, whose intense hazel gaze caught her own.
She tried to keep from looking surprised when he started to walk her way.
It was hard reading McCoy. Most people were easy, their emotions clear on their faces. But then again most people were predictable. Th'eon always looked for the punchline or the next big news, so his expressions reflected that. Amusement, enjoyment, or conniving. Scotty liked to laugh and learn, wonder always plastered on his face.
McCoy generally shifted from suspicious to hesitant. From offensive to friendly. They had their share of miscommunication between them, though Amelia wasn't quite sure who to blame for that. After his last visit in the hydroponics bay she wondered if it was her who had started the back and forth they often found themselves in. Because he had seemed abnormally nice for once...
His pace slowed as he approached her and she was able to catch the subtle details that portrayed his own exhaustion. His face was flushed, his hair a mess, and his typically sharp gaze was dimmed. It didn't detract from that ruggedly handsome demeanor, though. Not the time, Amelia. She told herself.
He gave her a quick once over, something she attributed to his doctor mentality rather than his male one.
The silence stretched on as he looked down at her small pile of stacked crates and then into the shuttle where the rest were firmly seated. After a few more seconds, his face fell in a frown as he growled out, "You on your own?" Oddly, he looked upset by that, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he narrowed them.
She'd have expected that protective nature from Th'eon, maybe. Or even Scotty if the situation called for it. But the only time that McCoy had ever shown a protective streak was when he was performing his duties as a doctor.
The idea of her working alone wasn't worth the frustration that appeared on McCoy's face. Added to that was the fact that she didn't know if she should be offended or flattered by the concern.
"It's okay. I've got it." She reached for the next crate, as if to demonstrate that she had everything under control. But before she could grab the other handle, McCoy was waving her off and clenching it in his hand.
"I'll help." Even though she wanted to defend her capacity to do this job, she was grateful for the help. The protesting muscles in her arms weren't screaming near as bad as they had been the last few crates she had loaded up.
Still, as they carried it into the shuttle she couldn't help but ask, "Don't you have a crew to lead?"
"You ever hear the expression 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth'?" The corner of her mouth tilted upwards at McCoy's question and the snark behind it. This was the familiar version of McCoy. Grudgingly kind.
Despite the task being made easier with help, they both gave a huff as they slid the crate onto the others. Deep down she unsure if she really would have been able to manage it alone. As Amelia finished strapping it down, McCoy asked. "What was in there? Rocks?"
Amelia tapped the container and grinned, her voice carrying with it a note of amusement. "The Leonards."
His head cocked to the side as if he was trying to figure out what she meant. It was his name she had assigned to the starches in the crate. She could see the pieces coming together as he glanced down at the crate, the concentration on his face slowly shifting into clarity.
"Potatoes? You named the potatoes Leonard, didn't you?" She couldn't tell if he was offended or amused, his expression changing between the two. Not that he really had the right to be offended, since he'd practically named them himself.
"I think it's fitting. Don't you?"
She barely caught his quite mumble of, "You don't want to know what I think."
"Actually, I do." Amelia crossed her arms and leaned against the stacked crates. It wasn't in her nature to ignore odd behavior and McCoy's recent displays, though kind, definitely fell into her category of odd. It was just like when John had shown her his own protective streak.
She waved a hand between herself and the doctor. "Why are you doing this?"
His own arms crossed across his chest, defensive. "Doing what?"
"This." Amelia tapped the top crate. "This whole friendly helpful... thing. And when you were in the hydro-bay... what was that about?"
A sigh escaped him, his arms falling to his side as he started to pace the length of the shuttle. When he turned back to her, he tilted his head to the side and ran a hand across the back of his neck. It let her know that whatever he had to say, it was going to put him out of his comfort zone.
"Every day I have to hear about this woman that works in the hydroponics bay and how she's a ray of sunshine. Whether it's from Jim or Spock or the Chef or even that young kid that works in supply. I'm starting to feel like I'm the one person on this ship who has been cut off from seeing that side of her." The slow exhale that followed said just as much as his statement. It was exhausting for him to admit that.
Amelia's brow rose, her words just as honest as his. "You accused me of being a traitorous spy the first time we met and then you proceeded to insult my ability to perform my job. To tell you the truth, McCoy, you're gonna have to work to get that Amelia." Because changing my mind about you is not only going to take time, but it'll take effort too.
Effort he was now giving.
"I'm trying." The growl in his voice wasn't threatening, just that bordering annoyed tone she'd heard from him plenty of times. She hadn't meant to set him on edge. With all the interrogating he'd thrown her way, it was almost humorous the way he objected to being given a dose of his own medicine. Almost.
But she didn't bask in his discomfort. Amelia's crossed arms fell open, her hand going to rest on his arm. "I know you are. I just wanted to understand why."
His gaze drifted down to where her hand rested, then up to meet her own. As usual his voice was gruff and hesitant. "Are you satisfied with the answer?"
Nodding, she said, "Yes. And I think we could be friends instead of... whatever it is that we are."
"I'd like that." He gave her a relieved half-smile. From outside the shuttle someone called for McCoy, causing his smile to be short-lived. He huffed, as if aggravated by the disturbance and then shot her an apologetic glance. "I have to go back to my team, but I'll have Spock find someone to help you load."
"It's okay. The last two are lettuce. Guess you showed up right when I needed you." She pictured him standing over her in the med-bay after her bout of delirious fever. And then once more when he was tossing her onto the sand and forcing water from her lungs. "Again."
"Anytime." Amelia knew that he meant it.
Somehow, she managed to keep herself focused on the task at hand, rather than on Doctor McCoy. Maybe it was because she felt the building excitement at the prospect of seeing Captain O'Shea, a man she considered family. Because if Richard was like a brother, then he was like a father.
When the shuttle was prepared, she made her way back to her quarters. Captain Kirk had mentioned the possibility of her being able to remain on the Huron for a night or two, which meant that she needed to pack a bag.
She pulled her backpack from her wall locker. An extra uniform, underwear, first aid kit. Taking a quick glance at what few items she could call her own, her gaze landed on a small jar filled with sap. If the Huron planned to return to Earth, she wondered if O'Shea could deliver a gift to Richard.
Using the replicator, she created a smaller glass vial no longer than her palm. Then she filled it up and capped it, her eyes staring down at the small gift in her hand. Richard would like it, of that she was sure. He was sentimental like that, even if he'd never admit it. Her mouth curled up at the thought of him.
As departure time approached, she made her way back to the shuttle bay. After a sonic shower and donning a clean uniform, she felt prepared to make the trip to the USS Huron. Amelia adjusted the strap on her shoulder as she weaved past gathering crew members.
Her steps slowed as she approached her assigned shuttle, catching sight of a man in a yellow uniform as he leaned into the pilot's compartment. She had never seen him before, though she didn't think that was odd. There were plenty of crew members she had yet to meet.
"You gonna be flying this thing?" She hadn't meant to startle him, but when he jerked back out of the shuttle, she realized that she had. "Sorry. Amelia Wright." She stuck out her hand.
Like almost everyone else on board, he was young. If she had to guess, she would say he was Japanese or possibly Korean, but as soon as he spoke she knew he was American, his accent bearing no trace of his descent.
"Lieutenant Sulu." His introduction was accompanied with a quick handshake and a smile. "And yes. I'll be your pilot this evening." The fact that he wasn't enlisted or an ensign made her feel more comfortable, not that she had anything against the junior grades. With her track record, it was best to err on the side of caution.
"My last pilot got me stuck on a planet that tried to kill me." Amelia half-joked as she tossed her backpack in the co-pilot's chair. Together, they paced around the shuttle. "I'm gonna ask that you make this a better experience."
Sulu secured the rear hatch of the shuttle, casting her a grin. "I've handled far worse than a shuttle flight. No chance we're going to get stuck anywhere." Already she could see that he was easy-going, a trait she was likely to enjoy in their short ride to the Huron.
"I'll hold you to it." Amelia promised as she climbed into the shuttle, pushing her backpack to the floor and taking a seat in the co-pilot's chair. She made sure not to touch anything, blinking lights and dials scattered before her. "How does anyone understand all this?"
She hadn't expected an answer, but Sulu perked up beside her, seeming more than eager to explain. "Years of training. It's pretty much muscle memory now. But in case of an emergency the computer can always take over."
"Why fly it yourself then?"
"Because it's been a while since I've had a chance to." He pointed towards the control panels then proceeded to give her a quick education. "So, say we get into a situation where I'm dead-" Not the most favorable of scenarios. "-and you have to get back to the enterprise. Just remember that if it has a label, it's aimed at someone like you."
She gave him a mock offended glare. "Someone like me?"
"Inexperienced. Look right here." Sulu pointed at a long blue button resting between them both. "This button initiates the auto-pilot, which is why it has Auto-Pilot just above it. Engage the auto-pilot and wait for the button to turn green. Then you activate the return sequence-" Sure enough he pointed to another button labeled 'return'. "-here. The shuttle will head back to it's programmed return station which is the shuttle bay on the Enterprise."
"What about this button?" Amelia pointed a finger at a large gray spot directly in front of her.
"Self-destruct." As she shot him a wide eyed glance she couldn't ignore the serious expression on his face.
Her hands flew back to rest tightly against her chest. "Why is it right there!?"
When Sulu began to laughed, she fought the urge to hit him on the shoulder. "I'm kidding. That releases the air in the cargo section. Don't worry, it won't engage if there is a life signature. There is a self-destruct program though, but we'll save that demonstration for another flight." He had the nerve to give her an amused grin.
"You're too much, Lieutenant. Just get us there in once piece, will ya?" Soft whirs and beeps and dings rang through the shuttle as Sulu's hands danced across the control panel. Last time she had flown she hadn't been able to witness the process, but now she could see it all. And Sulu's muscle memory was mighty impressive.
"Shuttle H ready to launch."
"Shuttle E ready to launch." Scotty's voice was heard across the comms and Amelia realized that they were in contact with the other two shuttles.
"Shuttle M ready to launch."
And then she felt the lift. It was a smooth ride in space and, unlike her last fight, she glanced out at the stars. The black expanse was broken by the tiny white dots, some maintaining a steady glow while others seemed to blink. For once they were oddly soothing. Maybe you're just getting used to it. There were probably thousands of other ships out there, some just like the Enterprise. Some still unknown.
Looking across the emptiness it made sense why the Enterprise's mission was so important. Someone had to pave the way...
Sulu would send an occasional look towards her, smiling in a proud way. Finally, he said, "It's amazing, isn't it?"
"You have no idea. I wouldn't have dreamed of this as a child." Her whisper contained a confession, but it didn't appear to be incriminating because Sulu kept a straight face instead of a confused one. She turned her gaze from the side window to look out in front of them.
The USS Huron grew in size as they approached, anticipation building inside her. It wasn't as long as the Enterprise, from what she could tell, but it was more box-like. She imagined it was designed that way since it was a freight ship, needing larger rooms for storage.
Amelia could see the dome-like area on the top, tiny dots that were people coming more into focus. "Is that the bridge?"
"Sure is." Sulu answered. He pointed towards a narrow opening. "And that's where we're headed." She recalled seeing Star Wars once in the theater when she was a kid and for some reason the scene before her reminded her of the Millennium Falcon being pulled into the Death Star.
Except there would be Starfleet personnel instead of storm troopers. Despite the ominous size and the related imagery, she didn't feel nervous anxiety. Just bounding excitement.
Because it was exciting. She was flying from one ship to another, able to experience another new adventure. And there was something familiar waiting at the other end. Beside her, Sulu managed the communications, talking to the other shuttles as they entered the Huron's shuttle bay.
She tuned back into the communications when she heard Sulu sigh. "No, Doctor McCoy. The Huron isn't going to fall apart and you are not going to find yourself adrift in the vacuum of space."
"I take offense to that, McCoy." Amelia grinned as she recognized the deep baritone voice of Captain O'Shea.
"Take it how you want, Sir. Fear is fear." Somehow, she managed to keep from laughing as McCoy's quick response.
The communicators were soon turned off, the shuttle powering down and the pilot hatches sliding open. Before she even made it out of the co-pilot's chair, there was already a crew unloading the crates.
Casting a quick glance around her she noted that the interior of the Huron wasn't as pristine as that of the Enterprise. She had to remind herself that the Enterprise had been rebuilt and was probably in far better condition than the older ship.
She looked over to where another shuttle was unloading. The Engineer's shuttle was just as crowded, Scotty shouting orders and directing at least ten people in red shirts to where they needed to go.
McCoy's shuttle, however, was completely empty. Of course if anyone needed to act quickly, it was the medical team. She silently praised him for his efficiency.
As Amelia climbed out of the shuttle, a taller woman with long brown hair approached her. She was wearing a blue uniform, but her insignia didn't look like McCoy's. In fact, it looked like Spock's. You're getting the hang of this. Amelia mentally congratulated herself on realizing that the woman was a science officer.
While Sulu left to pursue his own tasks, Amelia was left alone. She turned to face the science officer, who was already opening her mouth to ask, "Are you Amelia Wright?"
"I am." They shook hands. "And you are...?"
"Lieutenant Patricia Donavon. I run the hydroponics lab." Hydroponics lab? That explained why a science officer was talking to her. Patricia gestured towards the crates being unloaded, causing Amelia to take another quick look at the fast moving crew. "I wanted to tell you how much we appreciate this."
Her cheeks flushed, "You guys need it. I just wish we could have brought more."
"The replicators should be back up late tomorrow, but we've practically been running on rations and lettuce for a week now. I've got nothing left down in the bay. At least tonight we'll have a real meal." Patricia broke off as she looked over Amelia's uniform. It wasn't the first time someone had reacted to her lack of insignia, but the science officer didn't comment on how Amelia didn't belong to Starfleet. Instead she surprised her with an invitation, "Any chance you want to come by the lab?"
"I would. I just need to-"
"Miss Wright." The familiar male voice behind her caused an instant smile to spread across Amelia's face. She turned to see Captain Svenquist O'Shea, his yellow uniform looking less pristine than the last time she had seen it. But with what the Huron had been dealing with, it wasn't unexpected that she'd find him out of sorts.
He still looked commanding, though, and just a touch intimidating, save for the soft brown gaze he pinned her with.
"Captain O'Shea. Just the man I wanted to see."
"Let me give you a tour." As the captain took her by the arm, Amelia shot an apologetic glance towards Patricia. O'Shea followed her gaze, his eyes landing on the Lieutenant. "Don't worry, Donavon, I'll send her your way when we're finished."
"Rain check?" Amelia called over her shoulder, only to have Donavon send her a puzzled sideways glance.
STARDATE 2260.104
Beta Quadrant
USS Huron
McCoy scowled at the sight of the Huron. He'd done his best at hiding his fear, but the old bucket of bolts looked ready to fall apart. So far he'd distracted himself by listening to the shuttle lesson that Sulu was giving Amelia. Like the woman needed to know how to pilot the damn thing.
Until they were preparing to enter the Huron's shuttle bay, at which point he made a snide comment about the status of the ship. Scotty's crew laughed and the Captain responded. At least he hadn't said anything worthy of reprimand.
His pilot, a boy ten years his junior, landed them safely in the ship. McCoy unsnapped his harness before the shuttle was even powered down, his mind already racing with tasks and procedures. The medical team was unloading the back while he started the long walk to the med-bay.
"Doctor McCoy!" A voice sounded from behind him and he turned, catching sight of his counterpart. The Chief Medical Officer assigned to the Huron, Doctor Vincent Kristoff, was jogging towards him. "I was hoping to catch you before you made it to sick bay. We've set up an emergency station in one of the cargo bays."
His spine went stiff at that. If they were using one of the cargo bays then the casualty list was higher than the original report. Of course those numbers could have risen as more injured crew-members were found. With power fluctuations and communication mishaps more might still pop up. "How many?"
"Twenty four." That they know of. "Four of those are in sick bay under watch. Did your team bring any subdermal regenerators?"
"Two mobile units." McCoy unsnapped his communicator, redirecting his team to the new location. If Doctor Kristoff kept him any longer then they'd made it to the cargo bay before he did. He must have noticed McCoy's impatience because started walking, leading them towards the interior of the ship. "What is the worst case?"
"Compound fractures. We have a punctured lung, but he's been stabilized." Compound fractures had their own list of potential complications. The tricorder at his hip was soon in his palm. As they made their way into the cargo bay he worked to program the device for fracture detection.
When McCoy looked around, he realized that he thrived in stressful situations. As a doctor he didn't enjoy to see people suffering so he tended to work hardest when they were. He conducted triage first, determining who needed him first and who would make do with the technicians.
A young woman with blond hair was his first patient, her blue gaze hazy as she looked up at him from a cot. Her words were slurred, but still understandable. "You're not my doctor." How she managed a grin, he'd never know.
"I am now." Which was a good thing because her previous doctor was apparently a moron. Her left leg, though wrapped and braced, was set incorrectly. He kept from frowning, not wanting her to get a sense of how bad off the leg was. He'd rather her be grinning than crying.
By the time he was finished, his gloves were bloody, the grin was long gone, and she was unconscious. And that was just his first set. The one that followed was no better. He had to schedule three surgeries and two crew members had to be moved from the cargo bay to sick-bay due to further complications.
Things went from bad to worse, his team taking the brunt of the work. Because, apparently, the Huron's crew just wasn't prepared for any kind of catastrophe while his had the right amount of experience.
His eyes landed on another patient who was cradling his right arm. Dislocated shoulder. Quick fix. With the way the man was forcing steady breaths he knew that he'd yet been given any kind of sedative. McCoy picked up one of the many hyposprays off his tray and started towards him.
"You have any other injuries besides the shoulder?" He asked as he pressed the hypospray against the man's neck.
"No."
"Alright. I'll set it on the count of-" Then an alarm sounded. McCoy paused briefly to listen to the rhythm, a gloved hand braced against e crewman's shoulder. Before Kristoff could give any directions, he met the startled gazes of his team, silently asking them to remain calm.
"Ensign Galloway, lock down the bay!" Though the crew was probably aware that the alarm meant there were intruders on board, he didn't mention it. They had eighteen injured people to attend to and no one was going anywhere. Or getting in for that matter.
STARDATE 2260.104
Beta Quadrant
USS Huron
O'Shea led her out of the shuttle bay and into one of the corridors, pointing out various rooms as they passed by. She could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke of the Huron, reminded her of Scotty and the Enterprise. Starfleet crew members became attached to their ships, the flying metal wonders their home away from home.
There would be a waiver in his voice when he showed her an area that was still under repair, an underlying disappointment present. It took her a moment to realize he wasn't disappointed in the Huron, but disappointed in himself for allowing her to be damaged.
It was like her greenhouse and she felt a connection with the ship flourish. Not the ship she currently paced, but the one she could see when they passed by a window.
Her steps slowed, her eyes focused on that hovering ship, stars lining the background. The Enterprise stood out, a testament to it's trials. It was a flagship, so she had been told, designed to not be intimidating, but receptive. On a mission of peace.
But when peace failed, the Enterprise was said to carry a big stick.
At her side, she heard O'Shea sigh. When she looked over at him, he was staring at the Enterprise. "You know, ever since Kirk responded to our distress call, I couldn't help but wonder how you were doing. The girl out of time..."
How was she doing? She coped. She survived. And she made friends, because a life of solitude would never be enough anymore. So, when she turned to O'Shea she said, "I'm good. I have a place there."
When she closed her eyes, she didn't see her greenhouse. She saw the large expanse of the hydroponics bay. Scotty stood in the background, helping construct the Vulcan environment. Mark leaned over the desk at the front and learned to plant tulips. Anthony carried in a data padd for her to sign.
"That's nice to hear. But... are you enjoying it?"
"Sometimes." Most of the time. When her life wasn't in danger. When she wasn't overwhelmed by the stars. When she didn't miss the somewhat hollow life she'd left behind.
"I'm not a big believer in fate, Amelia." This caused her to fully face O'Shea. She wasn't sure if she shared his sentiment, but she understood it. When chaos reigned around her she simply told herself to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving and eventually... the calm would come. She'd never considered that calm to be a promised fate.
He continued, still staring out the window, "I believe we make our own destiny, that we pave our own way. But you, your presence here, throws that belief out the window. Of all the places in the universe you could have landed, of all the times, you landed here. You landed on my son's installation. And he led you to me so I could put you on the Enterprise."
Turning to face her, he asked, "Amelia, do you know the history of the Enterprise?"
She'd gathered bits and pieces from Scotty, a few more from Th'eon. And then there was the general history log she'd found on her data padd. "A little. I know it was rebuilt because it took heavy weapons damage during a battle. And it was there for the destruction of Vulcan."
"The Enterprise had yet to make it's maiden voyage when Earth received a distress call from Vulcan. Because Starfleet had most of it's fleet handling another conflict in a different star system, the Enterprise's first set of crew members was cadets. Some of them were too young to even vote. Yet the Enterprise surpassed odds, that years ago, would have been deemed improbable. The Enterprise set the standard in a way. And then that crew decided to remain on the Enterprise to face Starfleet's next enemy. Khan." She knew that name, a shiver running down her spine. The man responsible for her original placement aboard the starship.
"The Augment?"
"Yes. Though the Enterprise did experience its share of loss, it still flew and, more importantly, it won. You see, Amelia... History will reflect the works of the crew of the USS Enterprise. And I have a feeling that you are somehow destined to be a part of it."
"Why?'' For a man who didn't believe in fate, he seemed to believe that hers was already written.
"Because of all the places, in all the times, you landed here. And I gotta say, it feels an awful lot like fate. Reconsider Richard's offer. Don't come back just yet."
"It's been one catastrophe after another, O'Shea. Amelia Wright just isn't ready for space."
"I'd say it's space that isn't ready for Amelia Wright." She wished she could believe him. That his plea for her to remain on board was actually convincing. But his mere presence reminded her of Richard, who reminded her of Earth, and, in turn, represented everything that she wanted for herself. A safe place to call home.
They remained in the empty corridor for a few minutes, his words resounding in her head. Until a new sound took their place.
A low sounding whoop filled the hallway, followed by two beeps and a whir. The sequence repeated, sending a chill through her. It was ominous and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
She shot a wide-eyed glance towards O'Shea. His previous smile was gone, anger and a small touch of fear showing on his face. "What's that?"
Starfleet personnel ran past them, filling the once empty space of the corridor. A few looked to O'Shea before continuing on their way, their expressions worried yet focused.. "Someone's triggered a general alarm. I have to report to the bridge." He caught the arm of the next person, pinning them with that commanding stare. "Ensign! Take Miss Wright to the med-bay and tell them to lock it down."
"Yes, Sir!"
"Wait!" She pulled against the ensign's hold, looking to O'Shea for answers. What's going on?"
And she knew his answer wouldn't be a good one when he sucked in a quick breath. "We've been boarded."