The sound of the door sliding open brought Spock out of his contemplation. His eyes were greeted with the sight of Harriet standing just within the door to the ready room, still dressed in a modified version of her self-prescribed uniform. While the basics of the tan tunic and darker brown trousers had not changed, the addition of the heavy, dark leather beneath was an interesting choice. The trousers also seemed heavier, as if they were either made of a thicker material or covering another layer of cloth. Her customary boots also did not seem altered in any way, but they had always seemed to be closer on the combat side than the fashionable… if he understood Terran female fashions regarding footwear properly.
The medical pack she had slung across her shoulders was a sound choice given the current situation and state of the crew but the contents of the compartments on the utility belt she had secured her satchel to was a mystery, and thus a curious choice to his curious mind.
"You asked for me Spock?" she asked, interrupting his inspection.
"Yes." He gestured and she walked over to one of the seats in front of Captain Pike's desk. She took a seat and he could not help but notice the few cuts still marring her face, the slight disarray of her curls, pulled back into a utilitarian series of Vulcan braids, and the slight tiredness that still seemed to cling to her; proof she was not as recovered as he had accused her of being. Still, there were things that needed to be discussed. "Harriet, I can no longer delay our conversation."
Harriet raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
He determined that she had sufficient grounds for asking. There were many things they had yet to discuss and several of their non-academic topics also needed to be addressed 'sooner rather than later' as he believed the phrase went.
"I am currently in a position where I must ask the extent of your capabilities. I will not go so far as to request that you share any true secrets you believe knowledge of which would do irreparable harm. However, I do need to know what assets you can bring to our upcoming confrontation with Nero."
"And what shall you do with that information?" she asked in a neutral tone. He could not help but be grateful and hopeful they could at the very least have this conversation as professionals.
"That would depend on the nature of the skills and abilities you present," he offered. As he had told her previously, he was bound to a certain extent by his oath of office and his commitment to Starfleet.
"Not good enough," she decided. Her nose, for lack of a better word, then wiggled. He found it strangely appealing. "Is that coffee I smell?"
He chose to ignore her olfactory observation in favor of properly understanding the defect to the proposed exchange. In truth, he understood more and more of her position as each week of their association came and went. Still, he did not fully comprehend the extent of her concern, nor the fear he suspected sustained that concern.
"I do not understand the failing behind my response," he responded.
"I understand the merits of both the question and the situation Spock; your situation, our situation, the crew's situation. That does not mean I will freely give detailed information that will make its way into Starfleet hands and databases and thereby set myself up to be subjected to their whims and mercies at their leisure."
His lips turned down just slightly enough for him to notice the action. Leisure?
"While that is not my intention, I can see the logic behind your concern." He could, as clearly as he could see the failings of his staunch belief Starfleet would stand by the spirit of the Prime Directive when faced with Starfleet's actions toward Hari. "I assure you this shall not result in a repeat of the incident that occurred shortly after our initial meeting." He would not allow another such incident to occur.
"I take it you are prepared with a compromise?"
"Indeed, one that should suitably address both of our concerns." With definable limits, there was no reason for her to outright refuse his modified request. "You stated your – 'jumping' – ability was a skill derived from the study and cross application of several disciplines. I propose that we discuss the nature of the disciplines you believe to be relevant to our continued survival and success, or that you have already made use of to contribute to our continued survival and success."
He was more than intelligent enough to have made the connections between the marks etched into his station and the captain's chair and knew with certainty they were essential to understanding how both had remained relatively undamaged in spite of the damage the ship had taken overall.
Harriet's eyes drew into a 'squint.' "That does not properly address the issue of Starfleet." True.
In response, he quietly passed her the cup of coffee he had acquired for her ... and had been purposely keeping from her on a side table just out of her view.
"Blast you, but you're good," she mumbled, accepting the cup.
She settled more thoroughly into her chair and made a noise he associated with her enjoyment of her beverage of choice, her eyes fluttering shut. He could wait. He did not have unlimited time, but as Captain, he had a duty to ship and crew to properly take inventory of the resources he had at hand, particularly when they were currently limited. He could, and would, wait a reasonable time if it meant properly addressing the needs of the many.
Her eyes re-opened and narrowed in on his face.
"And if we were to have this discussion as one friend with another instead?"
His brow furrowed. He was not entirely certain of the ramifications of placing that additional parameter on their discussion. Would it limit his ability to act on the information that she provided him? No. Something was telling him…
"Can you affirm my presumption of your interest in the health and safety of the crew as a matter of fact?"
"Of course!" she said with some modicum of … irritation.
Was it time perhaps to produce the small container of powdered chocolate he had also procured?
Yes.
She eyed the container before releasing one hand from the cup and taking it up for closer inspection. Upon taking a slight sniff, she laughed – a light but full sound that a part of him noted as also being appealing.
"Thank you but no. It quite hits the spot black." Returning the container to the desk, she settled back into the chair, slightly more relaxed, going back to grasping the nondescript cup of coffee with both hands.
Success.
"Then, as a matter of academic interest discussed between friends, what are the fields of study unique to your culture that would be relevant to discuss?" The nature of their 'friendship' was a topic that still went unaddressed, understandable given how events were unfolding, but he could not deny it was the basis for their relationship as it stood at present.
"Well. Apparition and Potions certainly." She paused and he gave her time to think. "I also happen to be making use of my knowledge of Runes and Warding at the moment as well. I highly doubt transfiguration would be a useful topic to discuss as active use of that particular skill may actually endanger the crew…" She looked toward the ceiling, a sign she was deep in thought. "Well, if I go through the standard subjects…well, maybe… perhaps … no, definitely useless here. So those four primarily." And the danger to the crew?
"I can deduct a certain measure of the purpose behind three of the four you have suggested. However, I would not dismiss the opportunity for greater clarity."
She smiled at him. "Of course not. Ok. Well, apparition is a form of transportation that allows an individual to transport themselves from one location to another almost instantly. It requires complete concentration on the destination, determination, focus upon the desired location, deliberation, and certainty of reaching the goal. It's not instant, and you're still crossing the intervening space, just… faster."
Were there limits? Was she truly constrained by them? Was danger and success relative to the span crossed or was the primary variable the ability to focus with clarity of sight and function? Could the skill be learned or was it innate?
"Potions is a field similar to the study of chemistry; the study of individual ingredients and how they interact to create a, typically, liquid result designed for a specific purpose – such as the repair of bones or inducing calm."
Ah. The mixture she had given him then fell into this category. She was also likely using them in her teas. How was it 'similar' to chemistry without involving chemistry? Was this in line with her emphasis on the lack of a mathematical basis for time travel? Was there an opportunity to translate her remedies into formulas that would advance the medical field beyond its current boundaries?
"Runes are symbols representing various sound values, belonging to a runic alphabet. The runes themselves can be used both as an alphabet or as stand-in for whole words, as logograms. It is the basis for completing and understanding a number of other branches of advanced study, such as Warding. Warding is … the study of a particular form of protection."
"And how are you using them on board the vessel?" How was she combining these two fields to protect his station? His ship?
"As they are intended." Knowing her as he did, he knew he would get no more from her on the topic based on the set of her mouth. He could accept that, as he could extrapolate the fundamental principles of each field, their uses, their shortcomings, and their potential to be used both defensively and offensively. However –
"Under which discipline is time studied?"
"Time?" She frowned in thought. "I believe it depends on which aspect of time you wished to study really; there are several…"
Several?
He waited as she finished drinking her coffee.
"Actually, Arithmancy. I almost completely forgot about Arithmancy." She 'worried' her lip. "It is … the study of the properties of numbers, including the use of numbers and numerology to predict the future. It's actually not terribly inaccurate at predicting outcomes when parameters are appropriately and correctly chosen, then input…"
"Keptain," came Checkov's voice over the comm, "we're detecting unauthorized access to to one of the auxiliary cooling tank control boards."
He activated the screen on the desk.
"Security, seal the engineering deck. We have intruders in turbine section three. Set phasers to stun."
Bones, waiting on the bridge to report to Spock, was surprised when three security personnel entered, one leading and two following Jim of all people and a second crew member, phasers trained on both.
'What the hell?'
"Surprise," Jim said, his eyes meeting the gaze of the Vulcan leaving the ready room without flinching.
Spock, to McCoy's surprise, ignored Jim and eyed his companion instead. Both men were soaked, but, unlike Jim, the second man wasn't wearing standard issue as far as Bones could tell. Instead, he was dressed for cold weather, in a heavy brown winter jacket accompanied by thick gloves and a scarf.
'Someone assigned to Delta Vega then. How'd the hell'd they get on board the ship?'
"Who are you?"
Well Spock was in a mood then.
"I'm with him," the other man answered.
Bones began to mentally sigh. 'Now was not the time…'
"He's with me," Jim quickly seconded, confident.
'Jim,' he mentally growled, sigh completely forgotten.
He was happy to see him alive, sure, but he highly doubted now was the time for another public confrontation. Likewise, the tension on the bridge was due as much to the awkward relationship between acting captain and Jim as to the far greater danger that threatened them all. Clearly, the newcomer wasn't aware of that bit, if he was aware of the danger they were in to begin with…
"We're traveling at warp speed. How did you manage to beam aboard this ship?" Spock asked pointedly, looking directly at the newcomer.
"You're the genius, you figure it out," was Jim's baiting response.
'Damnit Jim!' Spock was NOT known for being a paragon of patience –
Yet, instead of snapping back, Spock just stared at Jim for an inscrutable second, then turned back to the other man beside him.
… what? Well, that wasn't quite right…
"As Acting Captain of this vessel, I order you to answer the question."
Jim stepped in front of the still unidentified man before he could answer. "He's not telling, Acting Captain. What, that doesn't frustrate you, does it? Our lack of cooperation? That doesn't make you angry?"
Spock, in spite of the mood Bones could tell he was clearly in, still managed to ignore Jim by maintaining eye contact with the other man. What was going on?
"Are you a member of Starfleet?" Spock continued; Jim's height not entirely sufficient to prevent him from maintaining eye contact with the interloper.
"I … um … yes. Can I get a towel, please?" came the uncertain reply.
Spock pressed.
"Under penalty of court martial, I order you to explain to me how you were able to beam aboard this ship while moving at warp."
"Well…"
"Don't answer him," Jim interjected firmly. Things were devolving quickly and, honestly, Bones was too caught between his exasperation with Jim and Spock's borderline odd behavior.
"You will answer me," Spock reiterated.
Spock was very clearly angry – recent events and months of having to tangentially deal with the Vulcan via Hari had given him some insight on how to recognize his … emotions such as they were. As such, he also knew perfectly well Vulcans weren't emotionless, yet Spock wasn't conveying any of the anger or distress that the other Vulcan refugees were displaying.
"I'd rather not take sides, if ya dinna mind."
"Then I will make the decision for you," Spock stated firmly. "Security."
Bones was suddenly hit with a realization that Spock was not only Vulcan but also a friend of Harriet, a woman who wouldn't let anyone she was looking after suffer more than could be helped. Was Spock now one of her patients? Had she dosed him?
"What is it with you, Spock? Hmm? Your planet was just destroyed and you're not even upset?" Jim said incredulously. Accusingly.
'DAMNIT JIM!' Not. The. Time! Especially, if Spock was only on a single dose of Calming Draught. Damn stuff was effective, subtlely so, and decently long lasting but that was no guarantee all the stress and trauma wouldn't still break through!
Spock locked eyes with Jim as Bones less than discretely edged his way over to the center of the conflict, ready to intervene.
"And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command," Jim continued. "Did you see his ship? Do you see what he did?"
"Yes, of course I did." Was that emotion in Spock's voice? Lord above… "What is your purpose?"
"So are you afraid or aren't you?" Jim continued belligerently.
Spock's reply was swift and sure, all trace of emotion gone from his voice: "My ability to command this ship is not impeded. Your ability to reason apparently is."
"My ability – You feel nothing! It must not even compute for you!" Jim nearly shouted as he got dangerously close to Spock's person.
"I am Vulcan. I feel deeply." Wait – he admitted to that?! "Currently I feel you are mentally impaired by your distress over the Captain's current position."
Bones, now thoroughly uncomfortable with the entire situation, couldn't find it in him to deny the truth behind Spock's words.
He also couldn't help the slight horror he felt rising in him: was he bristling on behalf of Jim… or Spock?
"I'll take responsibility of him Captain," he quickly interjected, distracting both himself and them by jerking Jim back near violently as he said it; he knew full well Spock's words would have struck Jim hard. Spock's sharp eyes met his and, in the same even tone he used when he discussed Harriet's health with the Vulcan, Bones continued. "If his mental health is the concern, medical is a better place for him."
He was starting to wonder after his mental health.
Jim opened his mouth to speak and McCoy pinched the radial nerve of the arm he was holding hard, then twisted. Jim closed his mouth and grit his teeth in pain.
Now was NOT the time for anymore of his antics. Calming Draught or no Calming Draught, this had gone on long enough.
After an intense few seconds that seemed to stretch much longer, Spock gave a very Harriet like nod before turning back to the yet unnamed … officer? The moment Spock's eyes were off of them, Bones was moving, leading Jim away with a tight grip.
"You have one more opportunity: how did you get aboard this ship?" Spock demanded firmly behind him.
Jim broke his grip, jaw working, just enough to indicate he planned on engaging Spock once more. Bones reacted quickly but Jim was faster and they both knew it. Yet, just before he could properly get out of reach, and with a swiftness and force he didn't recognize as his own, Jim was right back within his grasp and moving that much more compliantly for the shock of it.
Bones didn't have the luxury of contemplating it too deeply and focused on dragging an oddly silent Jim toward the turbo lift.
… where Harriet, arms crossed, stood with a very Spock like eyebrow raised at him, judging him with the full force of her very annoyed person. He ignored her (and her flared nose) and focused on his self-appointed task of getting Jim some place Spock would forget him.
… How much Draught was in Spock's system? When had Harriet given it to him? Did this mean their acting capitan was impaired or … under the influence while on duty?
…Why was he doing this to himself?
When they were further down the relatively undamaged corridor, McCoy relaxed his death grip on Jim's arm. "Don't make me regret this more than I already do. I mean it," he gruffed. "Now, what's going on Jim? What were you playing at in there?"
Instead of answering him, Jim took their conversation in an entirely different direction. "Bones, there's something off with her."
'What?'
At his look of confusion, Jim clarified. "The Special Envoy, Hari."
"Of course there is: it's Harriet," he said as if it explained everything. And really, it did. "Don't change the subject. What the hell are you up to? What possessed you to try sneaking on board a ship you were legally thrown off?"
"I want to know who she is," Jim insisted. "I want to know how she knew about the attack. What was she doing on the bridge?"
"Do me a favor: don't ask her. If you weren't so determined to pick a fight with him, I'd say ask Spock but clearly – "
"What do you mean ask Spock?" Jim interjected.
"They're friends." Under his breath, he added, "Lord knows how or why."
"Friends?" Both his tone and body language clearly conveyed his incredulity. "You can't be serious."
Given how well the two got on, it was no wonder Jim didn't believe him. Still, the truth was the truth.
"Unfortunately, I am. I'm also serious about not asking her. She already doesn't like you."
"What'd I do?"
"Amongst everything else? You cheated," he reminded Jim.
"That test was rigged – "
He stopped abruptly and turned to Jim almost violently, all but pushing him against a corridor wall by advancing particularly close to his face.
"That's the point Jim! It's not about winning, it's about how you act under pressure. Harriet's the type of Healer that works with terminal or near terminal patients. In her line of work, there aren't a lot of second chances, much less opportunities to rewrite whatever scenario ended in her having or losing a patient because she didn't like it." He took a calming breath, then screwed up his face. "And contrary to popular belief, Spock has a heart. Somewhere."
He backed off. And once more pondered how the heck he'd ended up defending Spock of all people…
"Like hell he does!" Jim argued.
"He's Vulcan, not dead," he hissed. "Every time Harriet's lost a patient, he's been there for her. He even meets her on short notice when she looks like she's about to cry and there's nothing I can do about it. He cares, and he's just as hurt as the rest of us about the loss of his planet Jim! He's just too damn Vulcan to show it properly. ALL of them are."
It wasn't his place to say anything just yet, he decided. If nothing else, as a Vulcan, he'd become Harriet's patient by default when she'd taken over care of the distressed Vulcans.
"Unless, you're going to apologize to her, stay away. I mean that Jim." And he did. He wasn't nearly as conflicted about defending Hari. He was perfectly aware the woman had both her secrets and her issues but that didn't mean he didn't trust her.
"Who is she Bones?" Jim asked searchingly after a moment.
"I don't know and I don't care," he said resolutely. "I know her well enough, and for long enough, to trust her – even with my health, and you know how I feel about that."
Jim looked at him somewhat speechless. "There's gotta be something you can tell me. Where is she from? What are her credentials? How'd she end up on the Enterprise? Captain Pike wouldn't just trust anyone on his ship, much less specifically ask we 'keep track' of someone who wasn't important."
Bones started walking toward medical again, debating how much he could or should share with his friend. The truth was… he didn't know too many actual facts about Harriet's background or her deal with Starfleet. Still, he knew her enough to know she was a good person with a strong attachment to the Hippocratic Oath – even if she refused to take it – and deserved just as much privacy as the next person.
Jim followed him without prompting.
"We took classes together at the Academy," he settled for saying. "She's a certified Healer; alternative medicine. I'm loathe to admit it, but her nonsense actually produces results. Positive results."
"So she's a Special Envoy of what? The medical community?" His tone was entirely disbelieving. And something else… What was Jim driving toward? What was this obsession with Hari?
"Look Jim," he said, some of his exhaustion bleeding through. "Harriet is Harriet. She's entitled to her privacy, just like everyone else." He wasn't going to touch the topic of how she tended to speak of humanity as if it didn't include her. Or how machines REALLY didn't like it when she started fiddling with them.
He was eventually going to get that bio scan out of her though.
"I saw what she did, Bones," Jim pushed intently. "She transported without the aid of a transporter. That shouldn't be possible. Then she made it sound like transporting through time wasn't as impossible as it should be. And back there, she was looking at me as if…"
"As if what?" he said with some annoyance.
Jim just shook his head and they finished their walk in relative silence.
"Look, I'll apologize," Jim stated as they entered Medical, "if you can get her to explain what's going on. Something's just not right here."
"It's Harriet: if she says she doesn't know, she doesn't know." She was generally very upfront with her lack of knowledge or expertise.
"Has anyone asked?"
… good question…
"I don't know, and I won't be the one to do it," he answered. "Now sit over there and be quiet for five minutes. I have more important things to do than prevent you getting court martialed."
"What he's doing isn't right Bones," Jim said with deep conviction, bringing the conversation back to Spock. "We need to get to earth. If only you'd – "
"We're already headed toward earth," he nearly barked out. What was Jim so fixated on?
"What? Since when?" His expression became serious and he stepped in. "Did Harriet have anything to do with that decision?"
…what?
Prompt: "Wok Bae McCoy" – what does that even mean!?; How useful are Hogwarts classes actually?
