The Assignment
Star Trek – Animorphs
"A second! Wait up, damn you."
Fit enough to keep up, damned if it didn't waste breath. His hands shook.
His quarry strode on like some great vulcan teddy-cat. A mere glance down Spock's overlarge nose lacked its usual photon charge.
"Indeed. Your second has passed."
"My, oh my," Bones seethed, "what great snark you have."
The vulcan remained silent. The doctor's round ears perked up.
"I've not had the time for a debrief on surface conditions yet. How's Jim?"
Spock should have learned his lesson years ago. You can't just ignore Leonard H. McCoy. He forged on. "Eaten any more intestinal leeches? Started another intergalactic war?"
Spock rounded on him.
A step to the side kept the girl's longhaired tail in sight, hanging over an elbow in red.
"Several of the crew unfortunately require your attention. None of whom are a member of this team."
It took a kind of insanity to serve in the middle of space. Death, disease and disaster wrapped in a nasty number of surprises that nevertheless kept surprising him.
A similar daring cupped his hand round that untouchable arm.
"Spock." Peered eyes caught the slight tremor down a pallid cheek. "Is the Captain okay?"
In all manner of challenges, Spock never let it get to him. Those glassy depths could reflect an emotional torpedo.
"Strong as the proverbial bull." Absolutely shark-eyed. "Is that satisfactory, Doctor?"
A particularly caustic shrug loosened his shoulders a bit.
"Y'know, I don't really care. If there's something going on between you two, I mean." McCoy sniffed. "But keeping Command staff alive and well is part of my job description, and by all that's good I'm gonna do it!"
Belly-fire good and bubbling set his grin to be fierce.
Spock huffed. Quietly. It was more a cool puff of air on Leonard's face than a real grunt.
He let a smooth tug from the arm in his grip carry the both of them down to Spock's stern lads.
Not one for Security, sheer vulcan strength nevertheless lent an air of reverence to their Science Officer. One came to know whom to trust aboard such a small community, and Security had relied on that long-limbed storm chaser enough times to know Spock's value in disaster-relief.
Spock smoothed down his sleeve. "A similar position to my own. Be appeased; there is nothing to tell."
Both brows raised to McCoy's hairline. "Bull hockey."
"Human colloquialisms," oh, do shudder for me, sir, "aside, the situation below has been rectified to the Captain's satisfaction. We may continue our mission once he is aboard."
Spock gestured to open the waiting turbolift's motion sensor perhaps more forcefully than was needed.
Its doors slid shut to contain three strapping lads, a malformed out-of-body young lady, his own thin frame and Spock's entire vocabulary. Righteously bristling arms nudged crossed elbows with an officer whose chin pointed over everyone's heads.
McCoy quirked his entire body, palm untucked. "And finally get to the problems up here. I'm nothappy, Spock."
"Indecisively concluded as always, Doctor." Was that a glint of teeth between hard-line lips? Hooked ears ducked a hair in the direction of someone Leonard really wasn't ready to see. "Do not worry about the girl."
"I don't worry."
Four sets of inexpressive eyes lost interest in ship alloys and lift functions as a concerted force. His palm curled back into crossed arms, back hunched against the wall.
"I don't."
Spock inclined his head. "The Galileo II will fly the Captain back within a local day cycle."
Ever merciful. McCoy strangled the cool relief trying to bank Spock's well-deserved rousing. A glance found the vulcan looking off into a visual display. Not watching for a sure hit.
If Spock hadn't just shanghaied Cindy away from medical help, Bones might have ventured to point out his illogical good mood. The doctor stared ahead, mulling it over. "Why not right now?" he said slowly. "I thought the situation was all 'rectified'."
The human officer by his side shifted to another foot. McCoy became aware of their brushing shoulders. He deliberately shrugged. Exposure therapy came highly valued in most medical circles.
Spock's nose flared. "Only upon my departure. We chose not to overextend in a return flight."
And let the poor soul enjoy another primitive culture's hospitality. Jim did seem to enjoy meeting foreign dignitaries, he supposed, and the Eirine had quirks enough to keep any anthropologist occupied for a few days.
"A most logical generosity," Bones allowed. "Pity the damn transporter's been struck from the records. I could use some dedicated time in the labs, away from this planet's little hiccups."
His feet moved to settle his stomach as the doors slid apart. The others left first. A slower shuffle held bitter judgement for anyone stupid enough to remark on a lingering sensitivity to ship movement.
Spock waited, straight as a bean pole. The brat engaged first.
"Time better spent in transit than subject to a damaged matter stream. The Captain's logic is sound."
Most curious. Sour grapes, Mr Spock? Leonard had to keep from rubbing his hands together as they walked. It couldn't be too serious if he brought it up to McCoy of all people. He didn't often get to play those two against each other.
A wondering smile blew away like a breeze. "Damaged, huh? No wonder."
Spock paused. That look was indiscernible. "The girl."
He hadn't looked. Maybe he couldn't.
No. He'd seen much worse. Fear of the unknown never stopped him before. That reluctance to set eyes on her face, understand how badly they'd lost control, it unsettled him. Didn't sit right.
That scene, Scotty, the stench of some sort of toxic gas filtered out as soon as the air conditioning system detected it… Cindy just lying there. It was her. He knew it was her.
She could be suffering. He couldn't leave the girl to be treated by some medical intern. And she was dangerous. He couldn't gainsay that.
Yes, keep the fires stoked. Yes, hit the iron where it made cherry-red targets.
McCoy trusted himself to not fly off the handle. Just not with Spock in the room, watching Leonard figure all this out.
A rasp dragged his dead tone back somewhere near human. "So you think so, too?"
Honeyed, sweetened for the backhand punch. "I think, Doctor, that recent inefficiency in your department is directly responsible for an overall drop of 5% across the entire ship."
It almost stopped Bones in his tracks. How dare -
"Now, you-!"
Spock struck like a bloodless rapier. "And what of the second? Her companion?"
The doctor sputtered. "The - Teddy is probably just another scared kid, out of his wits and hurt to boot! You'll not lay a finger on him," eyeing the open season of Spock's currently un-poked shirt chest, "until I get to talk first."
McCoy could only watch and wonder as lurid colour climbed up the soft skin of Spock's throat, ear tips dark in lovely juniper. Heaven above, that heavyset brow could only be called sullen. Their emotionless robot-in-chief, self-professed anti-emote in a sulk!
Spock's tack changed in a chunky of clumsy syllables. "Did you not – consider? The dangers of releasing the specimens? They could be anywhere." Spock pinched the air. Expanded it to hold an invisible ball. "Anything."
"Listen to yourself!" Leonard barked. "I expect better coherency from our Science Officer, half-human or half-klingon, 'specially regarding his very own personal logs." The grin spreading across his face felt greasy and unpleasant. "Changing your tune?"
Hate is a strong word. It didn't quite match how powerful Bones felt at Spock retreating to Academy parade rest. Remarkable, really. He achieved it while still walking.
"Chasing one truth in the face of contrary evidence is illogical," Spock said.
"You know what I think?"
"I believe I will imminently."
"You're losing your touch." McCoy tapped a noiseless rhythm on his leg. "Might need to check the planet samples for mind-altering substances. It's like a recurring space plague on this ship..."
Warning flashed all over that pointy head. "I am fine."
"Then I'm sure I'll see you at a check-up in two hours."
Eyes wide by perhaps a millimetre, that look bled betrayal. Creases in shirt sleeves shrank over tight arms, drawn back to hands surely bleached white.
They arrived to a short tangle of officers handling Cindy in past the door to Containment. Spock's face looked at once bursting with speech and furiously silent.
McCoy's skin prickled from standing by such obvious sorrow. He wrestled it down and leaned against the doorframe.
"Gotta give me something here, Spock." The moment of rest let him check the taller man up and down, first chance since Spock flew down at Jim's command. "I need a promise."
Spock shuffled. He watched after the parade of security men, clearly hoping to disengage and follow. "May we discuss this more privately?"
"Feeling shy? You know I don't run show-and-tell in a physical."
"Doctor."
McCoy considered it. Well, he'd get the time to run a deeper set of scans than usual, might even learn something new about vulcan biology if Spock felt grateful enough. The catch was the why. He intended to find out.
"Okay," he drawled out. "If I say yes, it's conditional."
Spock halted in the midst of a step away. He didn't look back but the line of his shoulders decreased with a tight sigh.
The doctor edged closer. He had the brief sense of coming in on wounded prey. A regular Romulan War Bird.
He spoke with a slight smile at the idea. "I'm sensing a little chink in that armour. You know, I... I've not always seen eye-to-eye with that vulcan shindig mind business, but any man of science can see it matters to you."
He could almost see the gears in that humanoid computer's neck grinding. Spock turned back with glacial speed. McCoy focused on the familiar arch of a raised eyebrow.
The monotone hid nothing. "Shindig, Doctor?"
Leonard waggled his fingers. "The mind joo-joo. If you believe it works, then fine. Let it work." He jabbed the air in front of Spock's nose. "Meditate before I see you again."
Spock studied him. Observed with that peculiar pinch between the eyes. "Fascinating."
"What?" McCoy didn't mean to sound defensive.
"To hear it from, as you say, 'the horse's mouth'." The dark gaze flickered. "Your choice of condition is acceptable."
"Two hours. That's an order, Mr. Spock."
"I will endeavour to achieve it," Spock intoned. "But if I may... my health was not a priority in your pursuit of the girl."
Years spent in a confined space together should make these conversations happen less often. Leonard loved kids, loved teaching and caring for them, could sit and listen to all manner of inane questions. That instinct usually didn't transfer to the grown-up versions who should know better.
'Course, Spock knew better. He just never let it sink in past skin level.
McCoy leered. "Was that supposed to be a question?"
A step closer loomed the skinny commander to block his view of the brig.
"Why are you here?"
The doctor slid his hands up his own arms. How to get this across? "Try accessing memories from two days past. Remember what you asked me then?"
Light behind his porcelain face washed the last tinge of green away. The light of knowledge. And in the small ways of his people, hints at a man Leonard was still coming to know.
A twitch of his brow. Interest. The hint of movement in his ears, a tic Jim swore Bones to secrecy on in the case of ear-wiggling being another precious modest secret. Curiosity, maybe. He didn't see that one enough to figure it.
Skin on shallow temples drawn down, down with the jaw, the lips. Sorrow.
And for a moment. Just a minute adrenal shot of how light scatter played havoc with reflective black eyes, the pupils fine and shrinking as if facing a penlight.
Leonard pulled back. He studied his own hands. Checked the nails, no chapping or splinters, the strap of his medkit.
"...Oh. Yes."
He couldn't help it. A peek up sank the stone in his belly with an acrid aftertaste.
Thin lips moved as if to speak. Mouthing something, words, a passcode, could be anything coming from Spock.
In his honest medical opinion, the vulcan looked terribly disturbed.
"Maybe you'd better get on with meditating, Spock," Bones ventured, head to the side. "Whatever happened down there's done your head in, and I want to hear all about it. Alright?"
Whispers - if that's what they were, not everyone had radar dishes on the sides of their heads - finished with a slow blink. The vulcan stroked his chin, gaze distant.
Leonard jostled Spock's supporting elbow to get in front of him. "Alright?"
It shouldn't shiver his bones to take that continental shift of fathomless eyes on his person. Spock stared at him as if seeing someone else. Something else. "...Yes, Doctor."
Alright. His toes clutched the floor through his boots. Standing upright took effort all of a sudden, his balance shot by a warm wave of relief.
It came out like that, all cute and sappy. "Call me McCoy, you..."
Half-blooded idiot. Horned moron. Point-eared… idiot.
He didn't say any of it. Didn't need to.
Spock took the wave-off with equanimity.
And it may have been the distraction of an officer coming up, grave-faced, clearly ready to report Cindy in her cell, or it could have been the short-lived rush of warmth playing havoc with his heart, but the doctor could have sworn to hear a barest hint of spring in their wintry Second Officer's voice.
"McCoy."
Bones made a toothy grin. The drawl pulled it to pieces, exaggeration heavy on his tongue.
"Spock."
A stiff nod released them both. Spock to glance inside the cell and pass on through to the outer hall, McCoy to rush past and kneel by her side.
Blocked by the forcefield, a savage bite at his lip went ignored as he worked on the flaps of his satchel. Pounding in his ears. A twitch of his fingers shook out, no need to check his own pulse, ready to see the damage and figure out how exactly to approach fixing it. Fixing her.
It didn't look good. Skin shouldn't gleam like that.
A bird-like jerk of his neck near shoved his nose through the energy barrier, sharp eyes on white flecks below deep pockmarks in the skin. Burnt hair, only one unpleasant stench among the cooked flesh and a hair-raising chemical taint grew stronger. She wasn't conscious.
He wrinkled his nose.
Less at the smell. Forget mere beauty marks, there could be nerve damage or worse.
Leonard needed in. As he stood waiting to be authenticated, precious good it did to rely on the bureaucratic nonsense insisted upon by Starfleet in a crisis, movement dragged his curt stare to the compartment main door.
The third officer in quiet conversation with Spock. As if sensing the doctor's line of sight, the vulcan hesitated, mouth half-open.
"Why aren't you gone already?" McCoy near snarled.
Curse whoever taught the pointy-eared half-breed that unfairly unemotional picture of sass.
Spock projected over an apologetic glance from the officer. "The Chief Medical Officer is not exempt from fraternization regulations, Doctor McCoy."
Fraternization? With – with Cindy?
McCoy couldn't help the jump in an eyebrow, nor in his voice. "Don't test me."
"Do not… believe… every spirit."
He turned properly, tricorder in his hands. Set to basic functions, needing recalibration for the funky business of their poor guest, it bleeped just loud enough for his own ears. Leonard didn't need the warning. It wrote all over Spock's drawn face.
Had he been so exhausted before going down to the planet? Surely the fool slept at some point, recharged his super-batteries by staring creepily at some unfortunate soul and their family.
Now the vulcan's hooded eyes dropped to the tricorder and he remembered Spock's incredible sense of hearing. Cheeks blew out over Spock's ruminating jaw. The brow drew close.
Concentrating. "But…"
Stopped. No shifts. No more micro-expressions, nothing at all. McCoy's heart skipped a beat.
As if Spock just… ended.
He let the tricorder come to hang by its strap.
He's no good at pretending not to react, never was, hated the thought. It kept him from psychology as a field of practice if he'd ever been keen on that sort of patient mollycoddling.
But a man can do almost anything for the right incentive.
Licked dry lips. "Test the spirits," Bones offered.
It came out in a rush. The colour, unnatural as it was, returned to those black eyes. "1 John 4:1." His tone, normally dry and sure to raise a man's blood pressure, cracked. It cracked.
McCoy played a filled hypospray through long fingers. He watched it glitter. "For being so adamantly anti-human, you do your research."
Spock straightened. The marble consistency of the science officer's shoulders crystallized into the impossibly sharp angle McCoy now witnessed but rarely. "Further examination is necessary. I will see you at mine. My quarters. Two hours."
Blue and black could have cut glass in the mechanical perfection of Spock's stride from Containment.
Leonard met a similar narrow look to his own from the man by the door.
"And what am I gonna find there, Mr. Spock?"
Those words – doubts and indecision – played on through the next hour of sitting, kneeling by her still body, mangled horsehead in his lap as he whispered and stroked her puppy ears.
When the fur melted away and she blinked away frightened tears, Leonard found himself smiling.
Cindy didn't smile much. Still, the cautious grip on his hand and questions, lots of questions, did away an old man's insecurities.
He had a patient. One, for the time being, was more than enough for him.
