Series: Moments in Time
Characters: Spock, McCoy, Kirk cameo
Word Count: 2300
Rating: T
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for Space Seed.
Summary: Spock and McCoy bond over the aftermath of Khan's takeover.
A/N: Upon a rewatch of this episode, my first rewatch actually, I found it very interesting for several reasons – one, again noting the unusual dichotomy of how unfortunately sexist some scenes are (like the 'waitressing' at the dinner, and how unnecessary Scott specifying how many of Khan's surviving crew were women just sat wrong with me) and how very non-sexist Captain Kirk is, in reprimanding Lt. McGivers and in not repeating Scott's specification when informing Spock of the same numbers.
And two, frankly I found the command crew to be a little less than impressive, honestly; other than McCoy's spectacular first scene with Khan in Sickbay and Scott's taking advantage of the gas to escape the room they were being held in. They should have been able to do better both in prevention and in fighting back, in my opinion, rather than just basically being sitting ducks for the whole episode, and I had to at least have someone address it for my own sanity's sake.
At so late in the ship's evening, 2123 hours to be exact, Officers' Mess is all but deserted, a not unwelcome state of affairs after this most trying of days. The mission has been successfully concluded, the culprits safely housed in the Enterprise's brig – now full beyond capacity, a somewhat alarming but not insurmountable difficulty provided they keep a close watch upon them and do not allow Khan anywhere near a control panel he might utilize to rewire security systems – and order has been restored aboard. There have been only minor casualties, minimal damage to ship's systems, and the physical conflict had been actually far briefer than expected, and yet…
And yet. He finds his mind disquieted, far more than is usual after a mission gone wrong. It is no great feat of logic to discern the reason – it has been many weeks since immediate danger was brought to their doorstep in so brutal a fashion as it was today, and he helpless to stop it – but that knowledge does nothing to calm his mental turmoil. And so, the deserted state of Officers' Mess is a welcome refuge, rather than the site of uncomfortable isolation it might be for another, for a human.
Of course, as fate would have it, his refuge is interrupted in short order by the most volatile human of his acquaintance. He is to have no peace tonight, apparently.
"Y'mind?" the physician asks unnecessarily, dropping into the seat across from him without waiting for an answer. A dinner-tray follows shortly with a small clatter of flatware and plate.
Spock sighs silently, and resigns himself to a mealtime spent fielding borderline xenophobic insults and jabs at his character which under normal circumstances he would tolerate, might even enjoy returning: but tonight, he simply does not possess the energy, nor the mental control.
"I'd'a thought you'd be holed up somewhere with Jim, goin' over the hearing for tomorrow," McCoy ventures conversationally, after a moment of awkward silence.
Spock pushes a dubiously-replicated pasta piece to one side of the plate; obviously the matter replication script has a flaw in one of the sub-routines, as this piece has the disturbing consistency and color of wet clay. "There is little to discuss, Doctor. And the captain is occupied in what I believe he calls a 'shipwalk.'"
McCoy snorts into his glass of iced tea. "Oxygen deprivation's killed off a few of those brain cells – he's gonna wear himself out doing that after a day like today."
"While I would normally agree, Doctor, the captain had a point. Khan's communications with the Bridge were done over a shipwide communications channel, and the entire crew were able to hear him cutting off life support to the Bridge before taking command of the Enterprise. The crew does need to be reassured of ship's status, and none does that better than Captain Kirk."
Chewing slowly on a mouthful of soggy green beans, the doctor nods. "Fair enough," he agrees with surprising lack of distemper, only a sort of resigned weariness. "Can't say as I wouldn't be glad to see him alive and well myself, even if I know he's fine…"
Spock pauses, mentally frowning. Could the captain truly have not physically checked in with his senior staff prior to beginning his shipwalk? Such an oversight is unlike the man, unlike the commander he is. Either Jim was simply too weary to summon the energy for fending off McCoy's medical concern, or else he had something to hide – such as the fact that he was really in no physical and/or mental condition to be walking the entirety of a constitution-class starship after nearly being killed today by a power-hungry dictator from Terra's history. The images still have not faded from his mind, and not because he is still in the process of writing up the reports from the day's events.
Something about this man, this Khan, inexplicably haunts him with an almost foreboding chill – as if they have made the wrong choice in allowing the man to live, when he so cheerfully would have seen first Kirk and then the remainder of the crew dead without another thought if they refused to bow to his will. Seldom over his Starfleet career, has Spock been unable to shake the chilling sensation of darkness which will not quite be banished from his mind, even amid the companionship of his human shipmates and the familiar solitude of this brightly-lit room. It is not a logical feeling, but it nonetheless exists. He does not voice this, however, as there is little point in vocalizing the matter, and he has no wish to incur the curiosity of this particular insatiable human.
"Anyway." The doctor covers a yawn, grimacing slightly, and sets the fork down to rest his chin in his hand. "'S'pose I shouldn't be keepin' you any longer, I got reports to finish tonight anyway and I have to go through and log the final scans from the Botany Bay's life support pods…"
Spock is no longer listening, for he has finally realized what has been twinging his subconscious ever since the man sat down; he has not once, seen the doctor raise or use his right hand. Even now, the human set his fork down and used the same left hand as a chinrest – and McCoy is predominantly right-handed, so this is highly unusual, for him to be so utilizing only his left.
"Doctor McCoy," he begins, leaning forward to better examine the human's expression.
"Mm?" Blue eyes blink tiredly at him over top of the half-eaten meal. "What is it, Mr. Spock?"
"Have you injured your right arm in some way, Doctor?"
The doctor's eyes widen suddenly, as if caught in a searchlight. "Uh. Not exactly?"
"Your response does not inspire confidence in your medical diagnoses."
Another undignified snort, this time of amusement. "I mean it's fine, Spock. Y'need to calm down."
"I assure you, Doctor, I am in no way mentally distraught. I am merely voicing an inquiry."
"Mmhm."
He refrains from sighing once more, though it would be gratifying against this particularly frustrating human.
"Doctor, if you are injured perhaps you should –"
The physician makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat, and gesticulates wildly with his cutlery in an aggrieved gesture which nearly takes out his own left eyeball. "Oh, for the love of – Spock, you're worse than Nurse Chapel. It's taken care of."
His eyebrows clench. "When did this happen, Doctor?" For it could only have been today, and judging from the man's evasive behavior, it likely was during the mission and was well-hidden from his superiors.
The fork drops back to the tray with a clatter, and the human rubs his eyes tiredly. It does not escape his notice that the doctor's hand is shaking slightly; an indication of exhaustion rather than stress, as he knows the Chief Medical Officer is steadier, calmer under pressure than any other crewman aboard, the captain included. It is those reactionary times between crises in which the explosive nature of the man comes to a head, usually directed at Spock himself or some crewman foolish enough to draw the wrath of their fiery ship's surgeon.
"Spock, Khan wasn't an idiot, he knew exactly where the chain of command was on this ship – where d'you think he sent a dozen of those goons of his when they beamed aboard?"
The room seems to grow suddenly colder, as he realizes that it had likely never even occurred to the captain, and certainly had never occurred to him, that Khan had memorized the ship's specifications in detail (a fact which had been obvious when the senior staff was later assembled en masse in the captain's preferred briefing room) and that they had left Sickbay completely unprotected through this entire mission. Had Khan been more ruthless, less respecting of the healing arts, much more harm might have occurred.
"Now, super-men or not, they're still just human, and they have the same anatomical structure as any other human," McCoy is still rambling, left hand waving in the air to illustrate his point with vague gestures, "and, let's just say, one of 'em didn't appreciate my boot bein' introduced to the most sensitive portion of that anatomy when he got handsy with one of my nurses."
Spock's lips twitch despite the gravity of the situation. "I have noticed that antagonizing a superior species is a particularly honed skill of yours, Doctor."
"Khan thought it was hilarious," the human replies with a tired grin. "Ordered the poor fool to report to Engineering until he could speak in his normal register again, and told me I would make a 'worthy addition to his crew'."
"Indeed?"
"'Course he wasn't impressed enough to let somebody set this shoulder before dragging us down to that briefing room, but then he was a little occupied in cutting off the air flow to the Bridge." McCoy's eyes darken. "Y'all are lucky he actually did read the specs correctly, any longer without life support and you could all have permanent brain damage. Scotty and I couldn't do a blessed thing to stop it."
Spock ignores the latter statement, for what is done is done; instead, he returns to the former. "Are you implying, Doctor, that you sat through that entire meeting in the briefing room with an untreated injury?"
The doctor rolls his eyes. "I do know what anesthezine gas sounds like being released into the atmosphere, Spock. Under normal circumstances I'd have been out that door right behind Scotty, my reflexes were just…slow." Spock has no idea why the human looks slightly embarrassed. "Really not a good excuse for an officer, I know. I'm sorry."
"Doctor, you will cease to apologize for being injured, or for not performing under combat circumstances for which you were not trained. Nor will you singlehandedly accept responsibility for the lack of competence which the command staff showed in permitting this entire incident to occur. From start to finish, we displayed a remarkable lack of ingenuity and foresight in this matter, a fact which I intend to see never transpires again."
"I'll wholeheartedly second that," the doctor fervently agrees, toasting him with his tea-glass.
"You diverted my inquiry quite successfully, Doctor, but only temporarily. Your injury?"
The human swallows the remainder of his drink with a rueful smile. "It's been seen to, Mr. Spock. Wasn't dislocated, just got twisted pretty bad when that lieutenant of his wrenched my arm up behind my back." The human's eyebrows bounce toward his hairline as he sits back in his chair. "Huh. What'd that poor spork ever do to you?"
Spock drops the now-twisted flatware back onto his plate and ignores both the words and the fact that he just accidentally destroyed Starfleet property. "I have mentioned to the captain more than once the need for a lockdown around defenseless areas such as Sickbay, to be implemented during instances such as this one; perhaps this mission will reinforce that suggestion to Starfleet Command as a suggestion for our refit next year."
"That's a really good idea, actually, Spock. Even if it only buys us a few minutes during a crisis, it could save a lot of lives."
"I shall forward you my report accordingly for your additional comments, then, before attaching it to the captain's final logs regarding this mission."
"That'd be much appreciated. Speak of the devil," and the human nods toward the Mess doors, which had opened to admit the man in question.
The captain looks utterly exhausted, completely drained of that almost magnetic energy which usually seems to empower everything around him, but he at least seems at ease after having spent four hours assuring his crew that all is well following this harrowing mission. He perks up slightly at the sight of his two XOs at the table nearby and soon collapses into the chair beside his First with a theatrical groan, scrubbing his hands over his face.
"Y'know, we have a shipwide comm-channel for a reason," McCoy says dryly.
Hazel eyes squint at him, a clear indication of an approaching headache, before the man drops his head onto his folded arms in exasperation. "Your observation is noted, Doctor."
"Don't you sass me, Jim. Spock, go get him some nutrition cubes or something before he falls asleep on you."
"Bones, I swear…Spock, that's not necessary, I –"
"It is no trouble, Captain. I assure you, I have had quite enough of the doctor's company. The diversion is most welcome."
He strides away in the direction of the meal selectors, leaving behind the sound of indignant spluttering and a surprised giggle muffled into gold sleeves.