Series: Moments in Time
Characters: Spock, McCoy
Rating: K+
Warnings/Spoilers: Errand of Mercy. I prefer to over-warn, so I suppose this could be triggering for mentions of power-of-attorney type decisions, mental health, etc. as threatened in that episode. I personally believe as I think most people probably do, that life ceases to function when there is no brain activity; however, if you believe otherwise, you may not want to read this one as it deals with the term 'vegetative state' and your sense of right and wrong may depend on where you land in that debate.
Summary: Doctor McCoy hears about the events on the Organian planet and has a rather disturbing conversation with the Enterprise's First Officer.
A/N: Like the show itself, these bits and pieces will sometimes be heavier matters, before returning to regularly scheduled fluff.
Pushing through the crowded terminal with a ruthlessness that would horrify his polite Southern momma, the U.S.S. Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer took another look at his communicator screen and roundly cursed the day he entered Starfleet before breaking into a dead sprint for the Starfleet-secured private shuttle bays. Apparently a medical shuttle from the Appomattox was approaching Starbase Delta Phi at emergency warp with a severe trauma surgery and would require the departure of the Galileo precisely on schedule, with or without the passenger she was supposed to be picking up from his xenopsychology conference.
His communicator had been going off with alerts to that effect for the last ten minutes, which really wasn't helping since he was moving as fast as he could through a starbase crowded beyond belief at this time of the shipping cycles.
Scotty better not have saddled him with Matthews as his pilot for the return journey, that's all he had to say – the boy could talk the hind leg off a mule, and he whistled while computing course corrections, a nervous habit that had almost had him prescribing a little something for the young navigator before the captain had finally had enough and just transferred him off the Bridge and down to Engineering, where he'd apparently found his niche. He'd end up strangling the kid before they'd gone a hundred parsecs.
Finally, he sighted the familiar lines and paint job of their shuttlecraft, and stumbled aboard, carry-on bag clipping the doorframe just seconds before the magnetic hatch sealed shut behind him.
"Welcome aboard, Doctor," a dry voice greeted him from the pilot's seat, and he only had a moment to blink in surprise that the captain had apparently spared their First Officer to fetch him before Spock was on the comms with the 'Base towers, having been notified that the Appomattox's shuttle was already in orbit to take their place in the shuttle dock.
"Please fasten your safety harness, Doctor, as the passing asteroids have caused severe gravimetric disturbances in the upper atmosphere. Base control, this is shuttle NCC-1701/15, requesting permission to depart."
"Tower to shuttle 1701/15 - Galileo, you are cleared for immediate departure, heading one four seven alpha four by seventy-eight degrees. Safe travels, Commander, and watch out for that ion storm just off of Delta Canaris."
"Acknowledged." Spock's quick fingers danced over the controls, and within seconds the starbase was receding from sight.
McCoy watched the blinking lights of the bay doors recede in the distance and hoped that whoever the poor devil was on the Appomattox's shuttle, they were getting the medical attention needed ASAP. Traveling in through the kind of turbulence they were now traveling out of would have been hell on a surgical team; he wondered what the emergency could have been, to require diversion to a base instead of taking care of the patient aboard ship. Possibly a lack of matching blood type, or an allergy to the usual surgical anesthetic? Maybe mental trauma that the Appomattox wasn't equipped to properly treat, on top of the physical? He didn't recall hearing about any notable non-humanoid crewmen being posted on such a lower-ranking starship, but that didn't mean they hadn't gotten one; Garcia was a good captain, and would have treated any crewman with as much consideration as a ranking officer if they needed medical attention.
Their flight path evened out as they exited the atmosphere into open space, passed through the cluster of drifting asteroids, and he realized he should probably stop being such a busybody and figure out why out of all the hundreds of people who knew how to fly one of these tin cans, Spock had been the one chosen to come fetch him from his unusual five days of working vacation on Starbase Delta Phi.
"So…to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Spock?" he inquired with genuine curiosity, peering around the side of the pilot's seat.
Spock fiddled with another switch, pressed a button, and the shuttle's engines changed from a heavy straining beat to the steadier thrum of the auto-pilot. The doctor unbuckled his harness with a sigh of relief and stretched, well aware he was going to regret that sprint across the starbase terminal later.
"Well?" he pressed, when Spock didn't answer right away. "Don't tell me you had a fight with Jim and wanted some space? No pun intended."
Spock shot him a look that clearly said he was an idiot, and he grinned; that was more like it. And yet…there was something odd in Spock's eyes, that by now McCoy recognized.
There was a tiny grain of truth in what he'd just said – maybe they hadn't had a fight, but Jim was the problem at least. Well, that explained why Spock wanted someone to vent to at least; there wasn't anybody else aboard he could do that to, he cared too much about the captain's reputation to do that.
"So why don't you tell me what he did, then?" He began to fiddle with the replicator on the wall in an effort to produce something resembling a hot caffeinated beverage, tossing the words over one shoulder in time to see Spock's slight frown.
"…I fail to follow the train of reasoning for your statements, Doctor."
Finally the replicator pinged and disgorged a cup of something black and steaming, which he hoped was slightly more like coffee than the swill they'd served at that conference. "I notice you didn't deny that train of reasoning, though," he observed, settling back in his seat.
Spock's eyebrow inched upward, and he exhaled slowly. "I…there was a…I found a post-mission discussion to be…disturbing, Doctor." McCoy lowered his untasted coffee in blank shock, because he literally had never heard Spock stumble over words before. "And as the Chief Medical Officer, as well as the Captain's friend, you are the most qualified to weigh in on said discussion."
"Uh, Spock…if it was a private discussion between the two of you, I don't think the captain is going to appreciate you asking me –"
"I must have a second opinion, Doctor."
O-kaaay, he'd also never heard Spock interrupt someone either. He tossed the cup into the recycling canister and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "So you thought this was the place to have this discussion, why?" he asked carefully. "Because you wanted it done off the record and completely out of earshot, I take it?"
"Correct, Doctor. I could take no chance that we might be overheard by the wrong person, medical or otherwise."
"You're startin' to scare me a little, Spock. What happened on this mission, exactly?"
Spock looked away for a moment – a clear red flag – before returning his gaze. "I can produce a full report should you require it, Doctor; it is a lengthy mission report, of which only a small portion is relevant to this conversation."
"So tell me that portion, Commander," he prodded gently.
"During the course of our apprehension by the Klingon occupational army –"
"The WHAT?"
"Doctor, please," and Spock literally looked pained at his outburst, another warning alert, "control your emotions. As I said, we were detained by the Klingon commander and his personal garrison. During the course of our detention, I was…interrogated as to our intentions on the planet."
"Interrogated how?" He received the answer he was afraid of when Spock looked away again. "Should I have brought a Vulcan healer back with me?"
Spock glanced back at him, looking slightly surprised. "Negative, Doctor, though the gesture is appreciated."
"What did they use?"
"The device is apparently called a mind-sifter, by the…Doctor, what is it?"
He'd felt the blood drain from his face, because anyone in medical circles knew the dark rumors surrounding the barbaric torture devices supposedly in use on other planets – and the Klingon mind-sifter was one that was talked about in the xenopsychological community enough for him to know its general purpose at least.
"I'm aware of what it is, Mr. Spock," he managed after a moment's regulating the sick feeling in his stomach entirely unrelated to the turbulence they'd just come out of. "Are you telling me that you were subjected to one of those?"
Spock looked wary at this point, as if he hadn't meant to reveal that much and certainly wouldn't have if he'd known McCoy was aware of what the instrument was. "Correct, Doctor, though I was of course able to withstand the device due to my mental shields."
He cocked an eyebrow at the Vulcan. "That's some very impressive mental barrier-work, Mr. Spock."
He was completely ignored, but decided to let it drop for now if that's how Spock wanted to play this. "At any rate, Doctor – at first, the captain did not appear to realize the possible severity of such a device."
"He probably wouldn't, if you were as functional as you say. And I assume you had no intention of disillusioning him."
Spock nodded. "There was no reason to do so."
"We'll agree to disagree on that, but continue."
"After a short time, we were released from detention, but were later betrayed by the Organians and our true identities revealed to the Klingons."
"Not good."
"An understatement. The Klingon commander then made certain that the captain realized the full potential of the mind-sifter, by detailing precisely what he intended to do with it - to use the device on the Captain, removing as much classified Starfleet information as possible from his mind before destroying it completely, leaving him in a vegetative state."
McCoy stared at him, aghast. "That's – barbaric!"
"It is a fate far worse than death in Vulcan culture, Doctor."
"In human culture too, there's a lot of people who would agree with that."
Spock's head moved upward suddenly, the only indication of surprise he'd ever seen but a clear one all the same – and in one huge flash of insight McCoy had a horrible suspicion he knew exactly what discussion the captain had initiated after the mission; a discussion, probably a demand, which had so disturbed their supposedly unemotional First Officer.
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and sighed, scrubbed one hand over his face.
"Jim asked you to make sure that never happened to him, didn't he?" he asked quietly.
This time, there was no mistaking the surprise on Spock's face, showing clearly in his troubled features and darkened eyes.
"And you've got an issue with taking a life, especially his – even if it's under those circumstances, and even if it's at his request."
Spock blinked at him for a moment in silence. Then, "I find your ability to deduce these events nearly as disconcerting as the events themselves were, Doctor."
McCoy sighed, almost sadly amused at the poor Vulcan's cluelessness. "It's not that much of a leap, Spock. I may be a doctor, but I took the same Officer training as every other lieutenant-commander did in the 'Fleet. Just because I disagree with the idea that a man should, for example, poison himself rather than let himself be captured by enemy forces who intend to torture Starfleet secrets from him doesn't mean I don't understand the reasoning behind it."
"So you do disagree with the captain's request."
Bingo. "Not necessarily."
"But you just stated, that –"
"Spock, look – I can't make that call, for the captain or for anyone else." Spock looked even paler than usual, and he made a note to see if that was just due to this unpleasant discussion or something worse, leftover from that 'interrogation' session with the Klingons. "I took an oath to do no harm, and that means I can't sanction something like that no matter the circumstances. The captain knows that, Mr. Spock; he'd never think of asking me to."
Spock looked even sicker at that statement. "The taking of life is equally abhorrent to a Vulcan, Doctor. And yet…"
McCoy sighed. Figures, he leaves the ship for one week, and Jim unthinkingly makes a cultural mess and leaves it for him to clean up. "And yet, he had no problem asking you."
"Apparently, Doctor."
He sighed, rubbed both eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how to fix this – he did not get paid enough for this, and the captain was going to owe him so big when he got back aboard.
"Spock, look, we both know Jim can be an idiot."
Spock's eyebrows knitted, adorably irritated on the captain's behalf, but McCoy's upraised hand halted any remonstration that was forthcoming. "Let me finish. He can be an idiot, but he's not insensitive – did you tell him this was bothering you this much?"
Spock looked shifty as hell, in his opinion, and actually fidgeted in his seat.
"I thought so. Why on earth not?"
"We are not on earth, Doctor."
"I swear to god, Spock, one of these days I'm gonna –"
"I was unsure how to begin without…being forced into an emotional discussion I was not prepared for."
That was pretty brutal honesty, for Spock. He regarded the Vulcan for a moment with newfound respect, before choosing his words carefully. "I can understand that, Mr. Spock. But you also have to understand, that the reason for Jim's asking you this is rooted in extreme emotion; you can't really expect some of that to not affect you, now can you?"
"Explain."
"Spock, you told me yourself that being left in a vegetative mental state is a fate worse than death in Vulcan culture."
"That is correct."
"Well, when you add that mentality to what we both know are the captain's worst fears – betraying his ship, and being alone – why exactly does it surprise you that he's of the same opinion?"
Spock blinked at him for a moment, before understanding lit in the back of his eyes.
"This wasn't just a request of a starship captain of his Vulcan first officer, Spock. It was a very human reaction to something that probably terrified the crap out of him when he realized exactly what it was capable of doing to him. Something you should understand firsthand," he added pointedly.
Spock was silent, though McCoy could tell he'd gotten through at least, made some sense of what until now had simply been a chaotic mess of uncertainty in a mind probably still reeling from the effects of one of the worst weapons rumored to exist in the galaxy.
"Jim really should never have asked that of you, Spock, in my opinion. But he did – and that should tell you something about how much he trusts you."
"It is a disturbing and quite illogical amount of confidence to place in another being."
"You'll get no arguments from me. And I can't give you the answers you want, Spock; Lord knows the lines in situations like that are so blurry I can't in good conscience make even a hypothetical decision out of circumstance. I'm sorry I can't tell you what you want to hear." He shrugged helplessly. "It's a burden of friendship, Spock, of family – and you just have to accept that Jim sees you as both; that's the price you have to pay."
Spock looked at him for a moment in silence, before his chair swiveled back to the control panel with a small squeak. He busied himself for a moment making course adjustments (or pretending to at least).
"I am grateful for your candor, Doctor." The words came out of the silence a few moments later, almost inaudible.
"I'm gonna hold you to that, next time you poke at me for bein' an emotional human," he called back, rummaging in his messenger bag for the reading material he'd saved for the journey. "And don't think I've forgotten you dodging the subject of this mind-sifter either, Commander. I may not be the universe's best pilot but I know enough to keep us from plowing into a supernova, so if that migraine you're not doing a good job of hiding doesn't go away you stop bein' an idiot and let me spell you for a while."
He'd swear, if it wasn't a ridiculous notion, that Spock's reflection in the glass of the shuttle windows smiled, just a tiny bit.
Nah, that had to be star-distortion.