Hey Y'all,

So the changes in the last chapter domino-ed into making changes in this chapter. Things should go a little smoother after this, but I'm not completely, 100% happy with this. Will I ever be, though? Probably not.

~Coop

CHAPTER 7

Dr. M'Benga had been placed in charge of transporting the Starpox vaccines down to Halo V. They had reached the goal of three hundred thousand vaccines a few hours earlier, and McCoy had ordered an additional five thousand vaccines for any planet visitors that might be susceptible.

Already the first recipients of the vaccines were beginning to show signs of recovery: the glinting spots in the victim's irises—as though tiny stars had been trapped behind the corneas—had begun to fade to the patient's normal eye color. There were only two complications so far but each patient had had additional, unaccounted eye diseases and both had been easily treated with a slightly modified vaccine.

Kirk finished reading M'Benga's report and signed off on it. He longed to beam down to the planet and see the improvements the colony had made, but a prolonged, untreated Starpox infection from his youth had left him susceptible to the disease while resistant to the vaccine.

Another remnant of Tarsus, he thought and felt his mood darken. A simple vaccine that had been withheld from those deemed "unusable" by the ruling governor, Kodos. It had been early in the colony's growing season when the first signs of crop failure started popping up. People were just realizing that starvation was a probability when Starpox struck its first victims.

The blind are so much easier to kill, Kirk thought, remembering how he'd guided several children to the safety of the hidden caves. So many others had stumbled out in front of Kodos' squads where they were quickly executed.

Perhaps it was best they couldn't see in the end, Kirk wondered, like he had so many times before. Despite the infection in both eyes, his younger self had seen, and never forgotten, the small piles of bloody rags lying in the street. One in particular, where a tiny hand still clutched a plush duck, its soft yellow feathers burnt by blaster fire.

Kirk took a deep breath and mentally pushed the memories aside. There was no point in reliving the horrors of the past. He survived by focusing on the tasks at hand: the here, the now.

Captain James T. Kirk thrived in the moment.

And at that moment, he found himself curiously rereading his Chief Medical Officer's recent log entries. Usually they were dry as Vulcan's landscape, and Kirk signed off on them with barely a glance. Now, however, he found himself returning to them again and again.

Stardate 4387.5—The patient continues to improve rapidly in hand-eye motor coordination, but still suffers from occasional disorientation and muscle tremors. She has, of yet, no memory of her life prior to being placed in stasis and, as such, i have thought it best to avoid any mention of the cryo-unit or the duration of her stasis. Whether the patient regains her memory, either full or partial, only time will tell.

Stardate 4387.5, Supplemental—Despite the memory loss, the patient has retained an advanced knowledge in several of the sciences—botony, chemistry, biology. a recent interaction with our engineering chief about the theoretical possibility of transwarp beaming left Mr. Scott in an exciteable state. Apparently the equations our guest rattled off held some significence for him. As a medical man, I wouldn't know.

Kirk leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. Howcould a girl, with no personal memories, be able to recall the complex formulas for trans-warp beaming? Was it possible that she was another Zefram Cochrane, the genius behind the creation of the first human warp drive? Was she a prodigy nearly one hundred and twenty-five years ahead of her time? He mulled it over for a few minutes and decided that he had no answer. He'd seen too much in the galaxy to rule out anything, no matter how surprising or odd. Kirk continued reading.

Stardate 4388.1—Aggie's having difficulty sleeping. nightmares. Sleeping aids seem to exacerbate the problem. Whether it's a fear of the medicine itself, the idea of forced sleep, or some combination, I don't know. the best remedy that I've found, so far, is distration and companionship. Accordingly, I've spent most beta shifts in my office getting beat at poker and chess. Aggie's a quick study.

Stardate 4388.2—She likes coffee. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

stardate 4388.2—aggie can't recall feeling the sun on her skin. Or watching a sunset. No matter how long I'm in space, those sensations are something I could never forget. It's curious. . .

Kirk scanned the next entries. They were both poignant and heartfelt as McCoy continued to document Aggie's progress, her likes and dislikes, her struggles as well as her triumphs. It must be something special, he thought, to witness a becoming. And yet, it left him unsettled, too. He knew that McCoy had named the girl Aggie after the markings on her cryo-unit, but it reminded him of the identification numbers tattooed on Nazi prisoners in early Earth history. In all the galaxy, all this girl had was a string of letters and numbers to call her own.

Kirk's frowned. But was Aggie to be pitied?

Or feared?

Mudd was still sitting in the brig and sticking to his original story. Oddly enough, that's what bothered Kirk the most. Mudd's story was consistent every time he told it. His voice may have gotten whinier, and he may have gotten more belligerent, but there wasn't a single variation in the details from the time he was rescued by the mapping ship to the time he boarded the Gyrating Ginny with his stolen cargo.

Could Aggie be a weapon? Kirk wondered. He'd met many beautiful, and deadly, women over the years. A few faces flickered through his mind: Kelinda of the Kelvan Empire, Queen Deela of the Scalosians, Elaan of Troyius . . .

Despite their treachery, he still felt a twinge of longing.

Kirk huffed in sudden amusement as a new thought struck him. His concerns aside, his crew certainly held no such reservations. Aggie was a beautiful mystery and a more than welcome distraction from the routine. The steady flow of unexpected visitors to Sick Bay had gotten so bad that Nurse Chapel had started announcing that if it wasn't a medically necessary visit upon arrival, it would become so before they left.

Unanswerable questions continued to circle each other inside Kirk's brain until, finally, he hit the log off button on his computer and stood up. He may not have any answers, but he did believe in gut instinct, and his instinct was telling him that it was about time that Captain James T. Kirk was formally introduced to AGEE 1-17.

Thirty minutes later, he found them in the arboretum.

McCoy was pointing to a large, pink flower with a bright orange center. "This is Sulu's baby," McCoy was saying, moving his hand slowly near the plant. The flower, although eyeless, followed the motion. McCoy laughed softly and stroked one of the petals which caused the plant to shiver its leaves in apparent delight. "He named her Alice."

Aggie smiled and leaned forward let her hand hover near the flower. McCoy remained close by her side, almost protectively, one arm hovering inches from her waist. "Amazing," she murmured, then laughed as Alice nudged her petals against Aggie's open palm. "Yes, yes," Aggie cooed, giving the petals a quick stroke before straightening. She wavered slightly and McCoy steadied her. She flashed him an embarrassed smile before gesturing at the flower. "It's the strangest feeling. I can rememberwhat flowers are—could even tell you all the parts of a vascular plant—but I can't recall their beauty."

"Not surprising in this case," McCoy said reassuringly. "Alice is a one-of-a-kind. Which is to say, don't stress yourself about remembering flowers. Just enjoy the moment."

Aggie made a wry face. "Like the 'present' they are?"

They laughed at what was clearly an oft-repeated joke, and Kirk felt a flash of guilt at watching them. He felt like an intruder witnessing a private moment. But that was just his imagination, wasn't it? The arboretum was a public place, and McCoy was simply helping his patient.

They were just about to move on to a purple shrub when Kirk cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

McCoy's head snapped around, and when he saw Kirk, he smiled broadly. "Hey, Jim! I didn't hear the doors."

"Doctor." Kirk blurted the acknowledgement, taken aback by the transformation in his friend's appearance. McCoy looked nearly ten years younger; the lines beneath his eyes and around his mouth—lines McCoy often accused him of putting there—were gone. Even the constant slouch that went hand-in-hand with his grouchy demeanor had been replaced by straight shoulders and a confident yet relaxed stance. "Bones," Kirk acknowledged again, feeling both bewildered and cheered by his friend's obvious good humor. "I thought it was time I was properly introduced to our guest."

McCoy smiled down at the young woman standing next to him. "Aggie, this is James Kirk, Captain of the starship Enterprise." He gestured at Aggie. "And Captain, this is Aggie."

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Aggie," Kirk said in his most charming voice, giving her a little bow. "You're looking much better than the first time I saw you."

A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. "The clothes make all the difference, Captain," she joked softly, and Kirk was taken aback by the warm humor in her voice. She tugged on the blue robe that covered her medical gown. "As in having them at all, I mean."

Kirk blinked. "Yes, well. Er, I suppose so."

McCoy quickly covered his mouth but Kirk caught the flash of a toothy grin. It wasn't often that a woman could make him flounder.

"It's all right, Captain," Aggie said, taking pity on him. "I heard that I made quite the entrance, but I don't remember any of it."

Kirk found that he liked the young woman's manner and found himself quickly joking back. "There are worse ways to make an entrance, trust me. Why, if I recall correctly, Doctor McCoy once materialized in a vat of—"

"Not that one, Jim," McCoy interrupted with an exaggerated grimace.

"Yes," Kirk replied in a gleeful tone. "That one."

Two hours later and Jim Kirk felt more relaxed than after his last shore leave. After the arboretum, they'd retreated to the snack bar on deck eight, just outside the pool and gym area, claiming one of the bistro tables set up along a starboard viewport.

"Here we go—coffee, coffee, and another coffee," he said, setting three mugs down and tossing the tray on an empty chair.

"If the captaining business grows old for you, Jim, you'll be able to fall back on your bistro skills. You make an excellent waiter."

"Thank you, Bones," he said, taking a sip from his mug, relishing the taste of the strong liquid. "I'll expect a tip then."

McCoy raised an eyebrow at him. "That was your tip."

Kirk chuckled then snapped his fingers. "Ah, I forgot to tell you: I checked in on Scotty. His last log entry was complete gibberish. Which makes sense, he probably hasn't slept a wink since talking with Aggie about transwarp beaming. He's bleary-eyed and well overdue for a sonic shower." Kirk pulled a face. "Seriously, Bones, I think he may need a sedative. You know how he gets when he starts playing around with theoretical models."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me? And spoil the man's fun?" He took a drink from his mug but paused before swallowing. He made a thoughtful sound in his throat, nodded to himself, then swallowed. "You're probably right. I'll check on him."

Aggie glanced between the two men, clearly concerned. "Did I say something to upset Mr. Scott? I did make a few suggestions to his formula but, in all honesty, I couldn't understand much after that."

"His accent," McCoy clarified for Kirk before smiling at Aggie. "No, you didn't upset him. You just threw a juicy bone in front of a Scottish hound. You should hear him in the Jeffries tubes sometimes. I honestly don't know how the engineering crew knows what he's saying."

"I think the hand gestures help," Kirk quipped before shrugging. "Just another mystery in space."

"Sort of like me, I guess," Aggie said, her voice light but distracted. All her attention was suddenly focused on the mug in front of her. With exaggerated care, she lifted it with both hands and managed a small sip before the mug nearly dropped to the table with a startling clack. Aggie withdrew her hands, wide eyes transfixed by the sight of her fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Concerned, Kirk glanced at McCoy. He recalled reading the doctor's log entry about Aggie's periodic tremors, but he hadn't thought they'd be so debilitating.

It was, McCoy said in a deliberately unconcerned tone, a side-effect of long-term stasis that would soon pass. Then McCoy reached out to cover both Aggie's hands with his larger one, and as if following the old idiom out of sight, out of mind, tucked her hands beneath the table. Aggie blinked, the spell broken, and gave a an embarrassed shrug.

Sorry, she mouthed, but the men ignored it as if nothing had happened. McCoy quickly launched into an over-the-top description of how Scotty, bent on avoiding his annual physical, had volunteered to manually wax the internal shafts of the torpedo tubes. "Well, he got stuck," McCoy said, rolling his eyes. "So I figured it was the only way I was gonna get him to remain still enough to get proper scans."

Kirk laughed till tears came to his eyes at McCoy's description of using colonoscopy prep lube to finally free the chief. He couldn't remember the last time he spent such an enjoyable afternoon. It would have been perfect if only he could have ignored that little niggling something in the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn't quite reach. He was missing something, something important.

He grinned as McCoy gestured wildly with one hand, miming the chief's inelegant exit from the torpedo tube. His eyes flicked over McCoy and noticed that his other hand hadn't reappeared above the table. As a matter of fact, the doctor's body remained slightly turned in Aggie's direction.

McCoy's voice became a muffled background noise as pieces began clicking into place. He looks like a younger man. . . he seems genuinely happy. . .protective of Aggie. . . his hand still in hers. . . And then Kirk knew. He knew.

Bones had fallen in love with Aggie.

He stood so abruptly that he nearly knocked over his chair. McCoy broke off and looked up at him in concern. "What's the matter, Jim? You all right?"

"Ah, I—uh—forgot something Rand asked me to do," he said, scrambling for an excuse.

McCoy's face split into a grin. "Oooo-boy! I thought you would have learned your lesson the last time. What did those Perillion heels cost? Two weeks salary or three?"

"I don't recall—"

"Well, they were damn expensive, I recall that all right. Hey, don't forget to invite Spock to dinner tomorrow night; Uhura and Sulu are already coming." Aggie couldn't remember a favorite food, so McCoy had organized a buffet where each crewmember would synthesize their favorite dish. He turned to Aggie and said, "Spock's the Science Officer I told you about. He's about as exciting as the Plo'meek soup he'll probably bring—my advice is to skip it—but seriously, I can't wait to see you boggle him like you did Scotty."

Aggie smiled. "I doubt that. He's the Vulcan, correct? The one with the pointy ears and the attitude?"

"Well, he wouldn't admit to having an attitude," McCoy said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before grinning again. "The ears are a definite though." McCoy turned back to Kirk. "So don't forget."

"Umm. . . I won't," he replied automatically, having already forgotten what it was that McCoy wanted. He turned stiffly to Aggie and pasted a smile on his face. "It's been lovely visiting with you, Aggie. I'll see you both later."

Kirk's feet unconsciously took him down the long corridors that lead to the science laboratories where Spock usually spent his free time. His reason for escaping the arboretum had been, of course, a lie. He had learned his lesson about Rand—and he was still making payments on those damned shoes—but it was the only excuse for his behavior that McCoy would believe.

Apprehension made his skin prickle. He had zero concerns that McCoy would cross the line into unprofessional behavior. He was the most ethical man that Kirk had ever known. (Too ethical, Kirk had often chided him. The man wouldn't even visit a legitimate pleasure parlor). No, his concern was for McCoy.

Kirk had suspected early on that the doctor's entry into Star Fleet had had more to do with escaping heartbreak than a willingness to serve. Hidden beneath the pseudo-grouchy exterior, was a very breakable, very human, man. Kirk doubted that McCoy even had the ability to recognize his own feelings for Aggie.

But what if he did?

Hell. That's what would be in store for McCoy. His friend would never act on those feelings and be torn up on the inside because of it. Kirk turned and stepped onto the turbo-lift, hitting the science level deck with barely a glance.

But what if McCoy wasn't the only one with feelings? Kirk recalled the way Aggie's eyes had lingered on his friend whenever he was looking elsewhere. Kirk wasn't a country doctor—he'd been with his fair share of women (human and otherwise)—and he could tell when they were interested. He suddenly wondered why Aggie hadn't looked at him that way, then laughed outloud at his own vanity.

He exited the turbo-lift and walked into the Science Lab, passing rows of blinking, bleeping computers, to drop into an empty chair next to his first officer. If only his friend would take a chance on love—and life!—again. If only. . .

"Captain," Spock acknowledged without looking up from the viewer. Several moments passed before he seemed to realize that the captain hadn't returned the greeting. Spock looked up from the screen. "Has something transpired?"

Not yet, Kirk thought, feeling a wave of giddiness wash over him. But with a little help, just maybe . . .

"Jim?" Spock prodded, voice curious.

Kirk blinked himself back into the present and grinned at his first officer. "Just contemplating the mysteries of space, Mr. Spock. How second chances can arrive in the most unusual of ways."

"I fail to understand the meaning of the statement," Spock said in flat voice, arching an eyebrow. "I am left to assume that it is related to human nature."

"As usual, Spock, you are quite accurate."

Hey There,

Drop me a line and tell me what you think so far. Someone mentioned a concern with the age difference. . . I'm assuming Aggie is about 25 and our McCoy is about 45-ish. You got a problem with that?

~Cooper

Ps. I don't have a problem with the age difference, obviously— older man can be sexy as hell. I offer up Example A: Christopher Pike from the movies. Yum.