Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday Ride Again

Previously

"Is my assumption wrong?" McCoy asked.

"No." My voice was so quiet he could scarcely hear it.

"Does anyone else know?"

My head shake was almost imperceptible. "I … I can't go through that again. Please."

He sighed. "Who?"

"I don't want to say …"

"It's the price of my silence. The name."

ooooo

Now alone in his office, McCoy twines a stylus through his fingers. "Computer, dim lights." The darker atmosphere suits his grim mood.

For he cannot get the words and pain filled voice out of his head … yes, I mean no, your assumption is not wrong … I … I can't do this again … telling strangers what happened and … having them … look at me in that accusing way … calling me horrid names … the deliberate shaming …

Tears had flowed at this point.

… and them not … believing me …

The sobs had then increased.

… and being blamed for instigating … what happened …

Lost in thought, the physician did not notice Spock's arrival. When the Vulcan clears his throat, McCoy raises his head.

"Doctor, there are rumors of an accident in the zero-g gym. I believe an injury resulted. Have you treated such a patient?" As is typical, Spock is multitasking while conducting this inquiry.

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about, released him to duty a couple of hours ago."

The Vulcan does not look up from the tablet he is reading as he speaks. "I am ordering the facility closed until further notice, until a root cause is determined."

"Not necessary. A repeat is unlikely," McCoy assures then adds in his head, unless the bastard is more of a moron than he appears to be.

"Am I to believe our doctor is an engineer?"

This pulls McCoy back from his thoughts. "Clever, I'll give you the win on that one."

"I have been saving it for some time," Spock, expressionless, replies in a dry tone.

Is this his normal countenance and cadence or an attempt at ironic humor? Who can tell? McCoy wonders.

Without invitation, Spock settles on the sofa. "I sense, as humans say, there is more to this story."

"Not so much. Not really. No. A problem occurred. In my capacity as chief medic I fixed it. The end."

The first officer lays his tablet to the side and focuses his full attention on the CMO. "Doctor, brevity is your style only when seeking to avoid."

"Since when did you, of all beings, act on your gut?"

Crossing his legs and steepling his fingers, Spock scrutinizes the man across the desk. "Deflection is another evasion tool in your kit."

"Just trying to save everyone a lot of time and trouble for nothing. But if you're concerned, have Engineering run a level five diagnostic and tear the gym apart." McCoy shrugs. "No skin off my nose."

"And like an oft repeated and, I add, trite cliché, we move to baiting and defensiveness," Spock observes.

"Trite and cliché are redundant, surely a Vulcan, a man of your learning, knows better."

Expectation confirmed, Spock nods. "And now up to bat is misdirection."

"What the hell is up with you today?"

"Practicing my human metaphors," Spock answers as if this should have been obvious. "And trite means of little freshness or import, while cliché represents overuse and lack of originality. Thus, there is limited overlap between the two words."

"Is this little ol' tête-à-tête Wednesday Vocabulary with Spock?"

"Given the pupil, such a remedial session requires more time than my duties permit. Perhaps on our next leave," is the answer, again in that dry tone.

McCoy isn't sure whether to chuckle at the joke or tease the Vulcan for attempting it. Characteristically he harrumphs. "I seem to be getting the worst end of things today. My wit must be slowing. Which I am certain is the fault of all y'all's shenanigans and … transporters."

"Indeed."

Spock then prompts, "Now that the obligatory chit-chat has been dispensed with, I believe the appropriate expression is, out with it."

"I can't. I gave my word," McCoy says is a serious and quiet tone of voice. "That means something to me, is important to me, as is the person I gave it to. And I can personally vouch there are no dangers in the zero-g gym, other than the normal ones that is."

"I am not convinced this is an adequate explanation." Spock pauses. "My discretion is absolute."

"Yes, that was and is never in doubt."

"Please take me into your confidence."

McCoy remains silent.

"Very well, as I am responsible for the safety of this crew, you leave me no choice. I will escalate the matter to the Captain."

Before Spock has risen from the sofa, McCoy is on his feet. His arm waves. "No. Don't. Please."

"I am listening, Doctor."

McCoy sinks back into his chair. "Are you familiar with the Osharan colonies? Human settlements established before the Federation was formed?"

Spock tilts his head, as if roaming his mind palace and poking through file cabinets.

No, McCoy thought, activating his processor, and searching his memory chip.

"I am. Their society is closer to twentieth and twenty-first century Earth mores than modern culture," Spock replies.

"You see," McCoy shifts uncomfortably and pauses. "On Oshara, if someone of any gender is harassed, if unwanted advances are pushed onto them, if … they are forced … attackers are rarely punished … the victim is blamed."

"I fear this is heading in a heartbreaking direction," Spock says very softly. "Your lover is from Oshara, is she not?"

"Yes. All of that happened to her there. No one protected her. She fought back. Wouldn't relent until the case went to court. It didn't work out well." McCoy shook his head communicating disbelief and sadness. "They savaged her during the trial."

Spock leans forward. "And if I extrapolate?"

"You wouldn't be wrong," McCoy confirms then quickly adds, "But not the worst-case scenario, not yet. But I fear the possibility."

"I find it hard to comprehend a member of Starfleet, a colleague in this crew would …"

"Believe it," McCoy huffed. "He admitted as much to me."

A raised eyebrow. "Under duress?" Spock queries.

"I neither confirm nor deny."

"This must be reported at once."

"Spock, the situation is delicate, and she is feeling fragile. Asking her to do this again …"

"Under our laws she is safeguarded," is the counter argument.

"Yes. But knowing this truth is one thing, trusting it … is gonna take some time. I can get her there, but I can't, I won't push her." The final words are delivered in a firm and clear 'I'm not budging' tone echoing the depths of the physician's legendary stubbornness.

Spock's finger taps the desk. A reaction McCoy has not seen before. "Doctor, do you know the penalty my father's people impose on those who harass or assault?"

McCoy shakes his head.

"These offenses are considered capital crimes, equivalent to murder and punished accordingly." Spock reverts to silence, and it hangs in the air like thick smoke. Angry smoke. Choking smoke. The growing crease in the Vulcan's forehead worries the doctor. The first officer then says, "I shall see to this matter, privately, ensuring no further incidents occur while creating and granting our lieutenant the time and space she needs to come forward."

McCoy studies Spock, but the Vulcan remains resolutely calm, almost eerily so, except for that tapping finger. "What are you going to do?"

"It is preferable, and better, for you not to be in possession of that information," Spock replies in his usual monotone.

"Oh no," McCoy wags his finger in the air. "If you're about to go all ancient west stoic sheriff on me, all Doc Holliday, I'm tagging along. Somebody needs to keep an eye on you."

"I am not the inveterate gambler, Doctor. Which I believe, in the romanticized paddock scenario you are envisioning, makes you John Henry Holliday."

McCoy scoffs. "I'm the brains of the outfit." Both Spock's eyebrows raise, accompanying an incredulous look. Ignoring the commentary, the physician continues, "Which makes me Wyatt Earp."

"Given the mercurial personalities and questionable morals of both men, would not your metaphor be better served otherwise? Myself as Bass Reeves and you as salon keeper and at times Dodge City lawman, Charles E. Bassett?"

"I always did fancy running a bar in my retirement. An event coming sooner rather than later given the number of gray hairs you and Jim trigger. But like a certain first officer I know, I digress down an irrelevant tangent." McCoy takes a moment, recalling history class. "Nope. Won't work. Reeves and Bassett weren't a team. Ergo,"

"Ergo?" Spock echoes with an interruption.

"Yes, medical school. Lots of Latin," McCoy reminds then repeats, "Ergo," and points to himself, "Earp." He gestures at Spock. "Holliday."

Spock's eyes flutter upward, ever so slightly. Having learned the Vulcan's subtle gestures, McCoy knew this to be the equivalent of a human's eyeroll. Spock declares, "Brains: I as Earp. Inebriated sidekick: you as Holliday."

McCoy brushes off the correction. "We'll sort it out in the turbolift." As they stride side by side through the corridor, the argument continues.

ooooo

"Ah, Captain?" Enterprise's security chief says over the intercom. "Sorry for the late-night call, but would you come to my office?"

ooooo

When McCoy entered the ready room, he found Spock standing at attention, hands clasped behind his back and Jim frowning. A deep, wrinkle causing glower. "Doctor, at last, was beginning to think I needed to send out a rescue party," Kirk says. "No stay standing," he orders as McCoy seeks out a chair near the desk.

The CMO moves next to Spock. The two men stand shoulder to shoulder. Kirk paces in front of them.

"Is there a point to this or are you practicing troop inspections?" McCoy asks. "Cause I need my beauty sleep."

Kirk pauses mid-stride. "I really think, right now, given the circumstances, you'd want zip that sarcasm."

"Okey Dokey." The doctor glances at Spock who offers the tiniest shoulder shrug.

"Tonight I experienced a first. And I've spent a few nights here and there drying out in jails," the Captain says as he circuits back and forth with periodic stops while emphasizing a point. "A crewman came forward. Admitted to abhorrent behavior. Pled guilty to a crime without charge, detainment, nor prompting. Profusely apologized. Asked I be sure you two were aware of his contrition. Locked himself in the brig."

"Interesting …" he adds.

"I can explain," McCoy begins.

"Sir, this … incident is my doing," Spock interjects.

"Not to worry, there is plenty of fault to be shared. In fact, I believe a micro-cleaning of the transporter pads is in your future," Jim replies in a too patient tone. "Or peeling potatoes in the galley." He waves his arms in the air. "Mountains of them."

"As I was saying before your ill-timed and poorly conceived interruptions, I was tucking in for a peaceful night. Security rang. You know the rest of the story. Anything you wish to say in your defense?" Kirk asks.

"He had it coming?" McCoy offers.

Kirk's eyes narrow

The doctor continues, "I am … was Wyatt Earp."

"He was not," Spock corrects.

The doctor frowns then, points at the Vulcan. "He was Doc Holliday."

"I was not," Spock corrects. His expression never varies. "Those roles were reversed."

Kirk pauses and rubs his chin. "Is that truly relevant in this moment?"

"Yes," Spock concludes. "Because I am the brains of the outfit, as the good Doctor called our team."

"We were seeing to a problem on the range," McCoy explains, "I mean among the crew. Quietly." In response to the Captain's eye roll he adds, "Discretely."

"You scared the hell out of him," Kirk points out.

"Given his actions, I don't have a problem with that. And for the record, I scared the hell out of him twice," McCoy replies.

"Nor do I," Spock says. "Though I only 'scared the hell out of him,' as you say, once. Perhaps Vulcans are more adept at executing such a shakedown."

Kirk suppresses a chuckle.

McCoy turns to the first officer. "In a pig's eye."

"I fail to understand what a domesticated swine's ocular organ has to do …" Spock begins his retort.

"Stop it. Both of you." Kirk pinches the bridge of his nose. "I imagine your constant bickering led as much to this confession as anything else. I know there are days I want to separate the two of you. Whatever actions you undertook …"

Spock inhales, readying to recite a list.

"I do not want to know the details," Kirk continues without pause. "I do; however, have one question for you. And it is around this the crux of the matter, and my displeasure with you, revolves." He pauses. Paces one more circuit back and forth.

Then asks, "Why in hell did Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday ride again and not invite me along on the mission?"