Disclaimers as in chapter 1. Almost done.
En Garde! 4/?
by Mistress V
Leonard McCoy looked at his reflection and smiled. So what if half the ship was running around, blabbing on about ancient weapons? It was all tomfoolery, really. The only place for such nonsense was in the privacy of one's own personal life. A relic, a reminder. Not something to be bandied about in public.
This would only see his own private light of day, and the only use it would get was to cut some mint leaves for the occasional julep. Of course, if the situation arose, it could be used for defense but really was no match for today's blasts. He gave the blade one last swipe and held it at arm's length, then he slashed the air purposefully, severing the last ties with his past.
"Len?"
McCoy scrambled to hide the object under the desk. Too late. His head nurse strode in and planted herself in front of him, hands on her hips.
"What was that I saw?" she demanded, a smile hiding behind her sternness.
He got up and braced his own hands on the desk. "None of your business, Missy. Don't you have a meeting to go to?" he scowled.
"Yes, and it's the same one you're required to attend, DOCTOR. That's why I'm here. You're almost late." Her eyes stared his down, willing him to buckle.
"Oh for Pete's sake." McCoy knew better than to argue here. He reached down and produced what he'd tried to hide.
"Len! That's a Civil War era Bowie knife! It's beautiful!" Christine examined the object admiringly. "Where'd you get it? Looks like a Confederate model. These are pretty rare."
"How come you know so much about old stuff like this?" he countered, furious that his hypocritical secret was out.
"I'm from St. Louis, remember? Missouri, the fence-sitting state? We supplied troops to both sides of the hostilities and every possible ne'er' do well, bushwhacker and soldier of fortune passed through my home town." She handed the knife back to her boss. "Relax. I saw one at the state museum when I was in school. I won't tell a soul. IF you promise to teach me how to use it. Now come along, we need to get a move on."
"You drive a hard bargain, Chris." McCoy cracked a smile.
"I have a good teacher," she replied.
*************
For once in her professional career, Christine was sad to have a meeting end. The visiting scholar was anything but boring. Dr. Leysik, a Caldonian immunologist, brought along his species' love of pure research to the table. It was contagious, just as the plagues his people's latest breakthroughs would help eradicate. The scientist promised many more cooperative dialogs even as he was hurrying to make his transport.
She raced to her own quarters and transformed herself from esteemed bioresearcher to woman on shore leave. Unfortunately, she had also pulled 'on leave/on call' duty for the evening, so she stowed away some more resort-y attire for that. Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up her archery bag and made her way to the spacedock exit.
"Gonna shoot some arrows, ma'am?" Lt. Smith asked as he checked her out for leave.
"I hope so!"
"The park's great, everything you could need. My men and I were down there earlier, running the fitness course. Have a good time."
"I will. Oh and I'm on all this evening, so if anything happens down there, I'll be planet side with Dr. M'Benga." She patted the medical bag she also carried.
"Will do, ma'am. I'm hoping we don't have to, though."
"Me, too."
************
Spock was waiting at the spacedock transport station. He was also attired in sporting attire, the kind that was meant not to get caught up in equipment like bowstrings. He gave Christine's silhouette an appreciatively Vulcan once over.
"We are transporting directly to the park entrance," he informed her. "I have reserved us one of the appropriate areas for our use." He indicated the crossbow, safe in its carrier.
"Great. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to this!"
The pair materialized just outside the park gates. They were soon met by the departing "Enterprise* archers, who'd just concluded a great morning's sport.
"It's amazing," Sulu enthused, even as he was packing up his bags. "I'd stay to tell you more but there's a fencing club at the base and their top swordsman has offered me a match. And then I'm going on a night dive to view the phosphorescent coral fields. See you later!"
"I'm tired just from listening to him. Where does he get his energy? And can I buy some?" Christine commented. Then she noticed some familiar faces. "Hi there, Bridget. And Robert. May I call you that, seeing we're off duty?"
"Of course! We've had a wonderful time." Jenkin turned to his companion. "But Bridget here, well, she might need your services."
"What's up?" Christine asked, ever the health professional.
The Irish girl held out her hand, which had an angry set of blisters in all the right places. Christine quickly treated the beginner's archery injury while Spock was briefed on the whys and wheres of the facility.
"Have someone check it out when you get back on board," she instructed. But she knew that would be hours from now.
"We're going to the water park now, but when we get back I'll go straight to sickbay," Bridget assured her sometimes co-worker She then took Jenkin's offered arm and they wandered towards the nearby base with the rest of the group.
"Shall we likewise avail ourselves of the facilities?" Spock asked a moment later. Like Christine, he, too, was taking in the park's splendid and diverse views.
"Let's go! This will be so worth it!"
They set off down a well-marked path, which wove through forested glens, open fields, manicured gardens, calm ponds, and playing areas of every kind. More than half the ship might have been there but the facility's size and planning meant they were absorbed without the slightest bit of difficulty. In due time, they reached the weaponry section and found their designated area.
"Real straw bales, and at the right distances!" Christine ran her hand over the targets admiringly. "I haven't seen these in about forever. I've been making do in my quarters but it hasn't been easy."
"How have you been shooting?" Spock asked as he unpacked his equipment.
"Ha. I asked the quartermaster for straw and he looked at me like I'd requested a dodo bird. I have some targets set up in and use bunt suction styled arrows, but the distance is about from here to there. I am sooo out of practice!" She took out a safety device and held it up." Can you help me with this? And please, no Amazon jokes."
Spock proficiently buckled her into the protective chest covering. He knew precisely what she referred to but assured himself such a self-mutilation had not happened here. Not at all. "I believe you are good to go," he pronounced.
"Not quite." Christine pulled a decorated leather bracer onto her bow arm and fitted a sleek glove on her draw hand. "Now I'm ready." She proficiently picked up a colorfully feathered arrow, complete with safety tip, positioned it and drew back the bowstring.
And watched, sadly, as it sailed far wide of the intended target. She sighed. Out of practice wasn't even close.
***********
After about an hour of standard archery, with Spock trying her longbow and finding it quite acceptable, they turned to the Vulcan crossbow. Christine watched with interest as he fitted a safety tipped model dagger into the weapon, explaining how it was developed to deter the vicious creatures that inhabited the area of Vulcan called The Forge. He fired off several shots, but he, too, missed his mark, though they at least landed within the target's concentric circles.
"Would you like to try now?" he asked.
"Would I!" Christine was practically salivating. She took the offered weapon, trying not to notice the Vulcan's close proximity from behind as he adjusted things. His arms were around her, so to speak, and if she turned her head slightly, their cheeks would be touching.
"Draw back," he instructed.
Christine did as she was told, though she became even more conscious of the man leaning into her. His body was warm. No. Hot.
"Now release. But be careful of the---"
Spock's words were lost in the weapon's surprisingly strong kick. Christine buckled and the two tumbled backwards, ending up flat on their collective posteriors.
"Not bad," Spock eventually said, pointing at the target. And indeed, Christine's shot had hit the blue ring. "With some practice, you could become quite proficient."
"Once I get used to that recoil," she muttered. "Ouch." She rubbed at her elbow.
"Are you all right?" Spock took the arm in his hands and began massaging it. He made no move to get up, and neither did she.
"I'll be fine. Thanks."
But instead of drawing away, Christine found herself looking at him. His expression was open, miles away from the man she saw in command mode most days. In those eyes she saw curiosity...and desire. A very different scene slid across her mind. One of sun-dappled bare skin, kisses, sighs and enjoyment under the shady trees that surrounded them. Her breath caught as she felt his hand caress the back of her neck. His eyebrow raised, as if asking, what shall we do next? And then he leaned in closer.
"Base communication to Commander Spock? Come in!"
Spock's head snapped back and he scrambled to find his communicator. "Spock here?" he all but croaked.
"The Vulcan contingent's transport has arrived at base, sir. I was told to inform you."
"Very well, thank you. Spock out."
Christine was already on her feet, packing up her equipment. "We'd better hurry, I'm sure your father would like to see you as soon as possible," she said, not daring to look him in the eye. The sexy mood had evaporated, like a bottle of fine champagne suddenly gone flat.
"There are formalities even Vulcan delegations must complete. I am equally certain we have plenty of time in which to make our way back." His hands caught the small of her back and pulled her close. "Unless you are in some great hurry yourself?"
"Er...not exactly."
"That is...good."
************
Spock was surprised to see a familiar figure at the park's gate "It is my father," he declared.
"What's he doing here?" Christine was certain the older man would see every trace of the increasingly passionate kisses they'd been engaged in just now. It was part of the radar unique to a parent.
"I do not know." They made their way to where Sarek was waiting for them. "Father, it is good to see you," Spock said after they'd exchanged the traditional greeting. "And may I present my shipmate, Lt. Christine Chapel, our head nurse and senior bioresearch officer."
"I am honored to meet you, Lt. Chapel. And I am sorry to hear of your loss."
"As am I, sir, of yours," Christine replied graciously.
"What brings you here, Father? Is there a problem?"
"Not at all. I was pleased to be out walking in the fresh air after so long a journey, and thought I would meet you. It appears you have been engaging in a most enjoyable sport, that of archery." Sarek's eyes were sharp.
"Yes, your son was teaching me how to use a traditional Vulcan crossbow," Christine quickly replied, wondering what other sports he might mention.
"Splendid. I myself taught him to use it when he was but six years old." Sarek paused, looking around him at the park's wide expanse. "I find myself thirsty from the artificial atmosphere of our transport. Perhaps you both might accompany me for a refreshing beverage?"
'I--" Christine began, feeling she was intruding. Surely Sarek was only being polite. Then she noticed Spock's expression.
'I'd be delighted," she said.
End of 4.
Missouri did support both sides (so to speak) in the U.S. Civil War. The weapon I describe existed, it was made from cut down Confederate swords and is quite rare (and pricey) if found in its original state. My neighbor's husband, the weapons king, helped me select it.
It was said that the race of women warriors known as the Amazons cut off their breast nearest the bowstring, so not to impede their archery. Fortunately, it's just one of those myths.