Line of Duty
EJ McFall
Aye, I've had to do plenty worse, that's for sure. Seems like there's always one berserk crew member or another that's affected by some strange space virus running around causing havoc. Riley shutting down the engines, Sulu chasing folks with a foil, Chekov –ach, that lad seems to be more susceptible than most to alien influence. And then there was that damnable time that me poor transporters split the captain in two…the laddie'll not be forgetting that one any time soon.
So, what I'm trying to say is that serving on the Enterprise -well, that requires a man to be adaptable. To be able to deal with hordes of tribbles, uppity computers, sword-wielding Klingons, and frozen superhumans without nary a complaint. And when the Mad Bastard on the bridge calls for a miracle –invent time travel, rig up a machine that will make a brainless Spock walk, figure out how to install a stolen cloaking device, beam me up without any coordinates before some maniac kills me, fix the damn engines without any supplies and in the next 15 minutes –well, it's all just in a day's work on this crazy ship. But I never expected to be sitting on the floor with Kirk, doing my best to drink him under the table while Spock lurked in the background waiting for the captain to lose consciousness.
It all started –as most of our crazier days do – with an away mission that went wrong. Seriously wrong. Usually when people are down on a planet, I'm dividing my attention between the bridge, the engines, and the transporter room. It's not unusual for the away team to need to be beamed back immediately or for some interloper to try to take over the ship while the captain is occupied elsewhere. So it really wasn't a big surprise when Spock ordered an emergency beam-up. What was surprising was the shrieking going on in the background when he commed me.
I thought at first that someone was seriously hurt and in major pain, but I realized the truth as soon as we completed the transport. The two security guards looked stricken, Chekov was fighting back tears, Spock was trying to drag Kirk off the platform and Jim –he was on his knees sobbing and cradling McCoy. You didn't need a medical degree to realize that M'Benga and Chapel didn't need to race from Medbay. Still, I'd contacted them before energizing so the two arrived shortly after the away team did. They did their best, but there wasn't much they could do. They said it would have been too late even if they'd been down on the planet. At least the doc died quick and probably didn't even know what hit him.
"Scotty." Kirk had been moved aside by the medical staff –with help from Spock –and had been deposited besides me at the transporter station. He'd been watching silently –well, except for the strangled noises he occasionally made as he tried to regain control. "His pattern is still in the transporter. You could—"
I shook my head quickly, before he could get his hopes up. "It would be his last pattern, from his final trip up here. It would do ya no good."
"Time travel then. We could go back and –"
"No, Jim." Spock interrupted calmly but firmly, his attention still on McCoy.
"I'm sorry, Jim." I forced myself to add to his misery. "It canna be done."
The captain got that wild look that he always gets when his back is against the wall, when he's about to do something crazy that will probably end up saving the ship and the crew. Only this time there was nothing to be done. McCoy is gone and whatever he was to Jim – friend, brother or lover (I don't listen to the rumors meself –I just do me job and keep our Silver Lady flying) – the damage couldn't be undone. Not this time.
I was about to dismiss Chekov and the security guards –seeing as Spock and the captain were otherwise occupied – when M'Benga and Chapel transferred McCoy onto a stretcher and covered him up. Spock tried to block Kirk, but the captain followed as they started for Medbay. I should have headed up to the bridge, but I didn't like the way Jim was acting. At best, he was in shock. At worst, he was still struggling to come up with a scheme to beat this no-win scenario like he had all the ones in the past. So, I sent the guards ahead to clear the hallways and gave Chekov a quick pat on the back and sent him up to the bridge. It was cowardly to expect the kid to spread the news, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that Jim shouldn't be left alone. Not that Spock wouldn't be by his side as long as he needed him, but there were just times when a human needed another human. Especially now that the human that Jim normally counted on when things got rough was currently growing cold under a sheet.
Our somber little procession trudged into the Medbay and McCoy's body was quietly taken to the …well to the storage area. I had no stomach to watch that so I headed for the doc's liquor cabinet. I tried to tune out M'Benga's comments about an autopsy, but apparently Jim was paying attention to every word. I was just pouring a shot when all hell broke out.
"Don't you dare touch him!" Jim shouted. "I'll stun the first person who goes anywhere near Bones!"
Spoke and M'Benga were trying to calm Jim down when I ran up, whiskey bottle still in my hand. The captain wasn't bluffing about stunning anyone who dared to touch his friend – we'd all been so shocked in the transporter room that no one had followed protocol and collected the phasers. This little incident will no doubt be used in the future to remind security about the importance of accounting for all weapons after an away mission. At the moment, it was just making a tense situation worse. Spock was trying to get close enough to do a neck pinch and M'Benga looked like he was trying to grab a hypo, but I didn't see either of those attempts going well. So, I…well, I improvised. I held out the bottle like a flag of truce and inched closer to Jim.
"Laddie, it's alright. No one's going to be touching McCoy –not while we're sitting here blocking their way." I shot what I hoped was a significant glance at the others before dropping to the floor with my back to the door of the temporary morgue. "Come join me in a toast to the good doctor."
Kirk just stared at me for a moment like he was trying to decide if I was friend or foe. Then he slowly slid down next to me, the phaser still aimed at his First Officer and new Chief Medical Officer.
"There now, if one of you folks would get me another glass and a couple more bottles of McCoy's good whiskey before you go, the two of us will be just fine." I thought I might get a lecture from Spock about overstepping my authority, but the Vulcan and M'Benga just stepped a few feet away while Chapel cautiously delivered our drinks. I could hear the three of them conferring with each other while I poured a shot for Jim, but they apparently decided to leave us alone. At least they all stepped into the adjacent room. I have no doubt that we were under surveillance the whole time.
So, I spent the next two hours sitting on the floor with Jim Kirk, toasting Bones and waiting for my commanding officer to pass out. He set the phaser down after three drinks, but no one seemed to be too interested in rushing in to sedate him. Spock looked in periodically, but seemed to be content to let the alcohol take its course. Anyone who knew McCoy knew that when he wasn't in sickbay he was hanging out on the bridge joking with Jim and annoying Spock. His absence was going to be keenly felt, especially by the captain. Maybe by Spock too –I never really understood how much of their bickering was real and how much was just to pass the time.
"I can't, Scotty." Jim mumbled after we finished off the first bottle. "Not without Bones. I can't."
"Aye, laddie. I know. It'll be hard." I glanced up to see Uhura and Sulu watching from the doorway. I wondered vaguely who was minding the bridge –poor wee Chekov maybe –but I didn't really care all that much. McCoy had been my friend too and I figured the least I could do for him was make sure Jim didn't do anything too stupid. "Bones wouldn't want you to do anything to hurt yourself or your career. You know that, right?"
Jim nodded. "Don't know what I'll do without him to tell me when I'm about to cross the line. He's always been my common sense, my moral compass."
I didn't mention that McCoy would have had something to say about his little stunt with the phaser. I just refilled his glass. He knocked it back and slumped against my shoulder with a muffled sob. "You're not alone, Jim. Spock, me, Sulu, Uhura, Chekov –we'll get you through this."
"Assuming Spock doesn't toss me in the brig for trying to shoot him." Jim gestured at the discarded phaser. "Thanks for keeping things from getting totally out of hand."
"You would have done the same for any of us." I was going to assure him that Spock wasn't going to make an issue of his grief when I felt him going limp. I couldn't see his face, but I was pretty sure he was out. My suspicion was verified a few minutes later when Spock quietly approached.
"I'll take him to his quarters, Mr. Scott." Spock carefully pulled the captain to his feet. "Thank you for your assistance."
"Aye, sir." I stood—just a bit wobbly- and pointed towards the door that Jim had been guarding. "What's going to happen with the doctor?"
"Dr. M'Benga will do what he must while the captain is sleeping."
I really didn't need to picture that, so I just nodded and headed for the exit. "I'll see to the bridge then."
"I'll be there as soon as the captain is settled for the night."
"There's no need to hurry." Spock looked a bit shocky himself. "I'd rather keep busy if you need some time to yourself."
"I may take a few minutes to meditate then. If you are sure you are capable –"
"Ach. I hardly drank much at all. Not enough to keep me from knowing how to deal with a Klingon ship if one pops out of warp in front of us." I'd been too concerned about Jim to indulge myself. That's something I intend to rectify as soon as I get to the privacy of my quarters.
I suspect a lot of alcohol will be consumed aboard the Enterprise tonight. For all the good it'll do any of us.
