Reception and Revelations II
Standard disclaimers: Star Trek isn't mine - I'm just borrowing the characters. No money was made.
Sorry this took so long. My laptop had to go to computer sickbay.
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2) Reassurance
He wasn't sure just how long he had been there. He really should get up and get back to the ceremony. The eastern sky was already dark, although he could see orange and red streaks in the west. Wouldn't that be a hell of a thing, to survive a crazed, planet-killing Romulan, and then die by falling over the edge of the canyon in the dark?
He fished about in his medical kit until he found an antiseptic wipe. It was lucky that he had his kit, he thought as he wiped his face. Some officious idiot had stopped him at the ramp to the shuttle back in San Francisco and told him that medical kits were not part of a dress uniform. Spock, the hobgoblin himself, had stepped in and kept McCoy from making a scene. In his best Humans-exist-in-this-galaxy-to-try-Vulcans'-patience voice, he informed the man that "to deprive a physician of his tools is not logical."
"Doctor, are you well?" said a cool female voice. McCoy was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. Childhood conditioning, he thought to himself sardonically. An elderly Vulcan woman in the dress uniform of a Star Fleet Admiral was looking at him, the faintest hint of concern on her face.
Ma'am, Admiral T'Pol, I..." he trailed off. Great, he had tried his best not to burden the Vulcans with his emotional distress, and here he was, facing a legend among both Humans and Vulcans.
"At ease, Doctor," she said.
"It's just I didn't want to bother anyone, I..."
"Your courtesy is appreciated, but not necessary. Your people must grieve in your way, as mine do in ours."
"Uhm, thank you, ma'am."
She made a motion to him back towards the path. He nodded and fell in beside her as they slowly picked their way through the woods. They were nearly to the edge of the woods when she stopped. He looked at her, question in his eyes.
"I remember an incident from my service on the Enterprise," she said. "There were two crewmembers who were very close. They planned to get married when the ship returned to Earth. There was an accident in engineering. The young man was killed." McCoy stayed silent, wondering where she was going with this.
"At the time, the young woman showed some signs of grief, but within two days was back on duty. I thought at the time that she was showing a superior control of her emotions. I wondered why all Humans could not be like her."
McCoy made a humphing noise. She raised one eyebrow at him.
"Indeed, Doctor. I was a fool. Four months later, as several of my Human colleagues had predicted, she had what Tr...Engineer Tucker called 'the mother of all emotional melt downs'." After a moment's pause, she headed towards the path again, McCoy following in her wake.
There were people on the path now, heading towards the old lodge. McCoy guessed the ceremony was over. Even in the fading light he could see a few other people emerge from the woods. It made him feel a little bit better, knowing that he wasn't the only one who had had to get away. They were about to step onto the path when a voice, frail with age, stopped them.
"T'Pol!"
She turned to face the elderly man in the hover chair. "Jonathan."
Wonderful, thought McCoy. Yet another Fleet legend - Jonathan Archer, captain of the first warp capable Enterprise. He was not going to be able to slink away quietly. He came to something approximating attention.
The old man's eyes were on T'Pol. "How are you holding up?"
Her response was slow. "I have been better. I find meditation difficult." McCoy felt uneasy, an intruder on a very private conversation.
Archer turned his attention to T'Pol's companion. He squinted up at McCoy. "And you are, Cadet?" he prompted.
"Dr. Leonard McCoy, sir."
"McCoy, McCoy," the old man mused. "Enterprise?"
"Yes sir."
Admiral Archer looked up at McCoy, an odd smile on his face. "That was an interesting performance on the evening news, Doctor."
McCoy's heart sank. No one had called him on the carpet for that little incident with the reporter, not yet.* The clip had been played and replayed on Earth, hell, probably all over the Federation by now. Cornered and badgered by reporters, he had lost his temper and yelled at the most annoying of the bunch. He hadn't looked very little much like a professional that day. With his two-day old stubble and blood-shot eyes, he had, as Jim informed him, looked like some old hermit come down from the mountains to preach doom and the end of days.
"Do not worry, Doctor. Although you couched your opinions in emotional terms, you did not say anything that contradicted official Fleet policy on the matter. Also, it has been noted and logged that the medical teams had been working for 49.3 hours straight before anyone thought to call in replacements.
"Thank you, ma'am.
"And I've never liked that weasel of a reporter," muttered Archer.
There was a long silence. "Oh, if you have to talk to anyone else, Doctor, go on," said Archer. "We old folks can entertain ourselves."
McCoy nodded his thanks. "Can I get anything for you, Admirals?"
"No thank you, Doctor," answered T'Pol.
He walked off towards the main gathering in front of the lodge. He overheard Archer say, "Reminds me of Trip."
"The regional accent, no doubt," said T'Pol.
Just before McCoy was out of earshot, he heard Archer reply, "Yeah. Mind you, Trip would have flattened that reporter."
McCoy wandered aimlessly through the crowd, wondering if he could sneak off and catch a nap in the shuttle. No, he better not do that. With his luck, he would get on the wrong shuttle and end up in Paris, or on the Moon. Maybe he should just find Jim. Jim could at least make sure he stayed awake and made it on the shuttle. He didn't need to add going AWOL to his list of troubles.
"Doctor, could I have a word with you?" said a voice behind him. He turned to face a tall, dark-haired woman. She was wearing a stunning dress, with a Star Fleet administration badge pinned to one shoulder. She was an older woman, but damned fine looking, he thought.
"Why, thank you Doctor. You're very handsome yourself."
This day was just getting better by the second. She was Betazoid. Just shoot me now, he thought.
"That would be a waste of a perfectly good surgeon," she chided him.
"Err, yes.. Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked.
"I am Commissioner Beltranna Grex, of the third house of Betazed. You treated my niece six months ago. Deleela Selmarki, daughter and heiress of the fourth house of Betazed, Lady of Lake Cataria."
He cudgeled his memory for a long moment. Enlightenment dawned. "Oh, yes, the young woman who was hit by a hoverbike. Drunken driver, I think." God, that had been a mess. Eighteen hours in surgery, and several touch-and-go days in ICU.
"Yes, that's her" said Beltranna. She smiled at him like he was a particularly clever student.
"How is she doing?"
"Very well, thank you. She's on Betazed now, working on her physical therapy. The doctors were very impressed with your work. If you ever decide to leave the Fleet, there will be a job for you on Betazed."
"Thank you, ma'am, but an entire team of surgeons worked on her."
She tilted her head slightly and studied him. "You know, many people say things like that, but you're one of the few who actually means them. I like you." Her smile became broader. "She's getting married next year. If you happen to be nearby, you are, of course, invited. I would love to see you there." Was it his imagination, or was there some double meaning in her statement that he was too exhausted to catch?
"No, it is not your imagination. But, of course, since my family owes you such a debt, I will have to recuse myself from your hearing tomorrow." Oh, God, yes. The hearing into why he had found it necessary to bring Jim Kirk aboard the Enterprise. At least there was still a planet to hold a hearing on.
"Exactly, Doctor," she said, responding to his thoughts again (and wasn't that damn annoying?) "Alas, they will find there are no handy telepaths to take my place on the board. Just stick to the regs and you'll be fine." She beamed at him, and then looked over his shoulder. "Excuse me, I must talk to Captain Nogura." She brushed past him as she left. McCoy stood up straighter, startled. Had she just? At a memorial service, of all places?
"Bones! I was starting to worry." It was Jim, thrusting a glass of something unfamiliar looking at him. "Was it my imagination, or did Commissioner Grex just pinch your ass?"
McCoy glared at Jim and took a big swallow of the liquid. It was good, fruity, but not cloyingly sweet. Non-alcoholic, of course. Vulcans believed that the imbibing of metabolic poisons was most illogical.
"I take that as a 'yes', then," smirked Jim. "And did I hear her correctly? She invited you to her niece's wedding?"
"Yes, Cadet Eavesdropper, she did."
Jim's grin got bigger. "Well, you know what they say about older Betazoid women."
"No, I..." McCoy paused. Oh yes, older Betazoid woman went through something they called The Phase. And then a lesson from comparative anthropology class about wedding customs throughout the Federation popped out of some corner of his mind. To his annoyance, he could feel himself blush.
"Anyway, Bones, you've got to come with me. You have to meet someone," he looked around, and lowered his voice. "The er, guy, who saved me on Delta Vega."
McCoy raised his eyebrows at that. Jim had told him the entire crazy story about a time-traveling Vulcan and the mind meld during trip back to Earth. He was one of the few people who knew the whole truth. While still en-route back to Earth, Jim had been given orders to conceal the real nature of the elderly Vulcan now known as Ambassador Selek. That mad Scotsman and his short assistant (McCoy hadn't even had to time to look up Keenser's species) knew the truth, as did Commander Spock and Uhura. Jim grabbed him by the arm and towed him through the gathering and onto one of the many terraces overlooking the canyon.
There was an elderly Vulcan there, tall and spare. The elder Spock's eyebrows raised in what McCoy thought was recognition. They had never met, but this Vulcan knew another McCoy, another him. He returned the favor by studying the elderly Vulcan's face closely. Yes, he could see young Spock looking like this, in a century or so. Spock seemed to be searching his face as well.
"Doctor Leonard McCoy," said Spock simply. McCoy was startled by the older man's tone. His face was serene, but his voice seemed to contain both gladness, and even, surprisingly, affection.
McCoy arched an eyebrow at him. "So, sir, do I meet your expectations?"
"Fascinating. Although you bear little physical resemblance to the Leonard McCoy I knew, in essentials, you are him. Tell me, Doctor, have you called my counterpart a "pointy-eared hobgoblin' yet?"
McCoy's horrified face was all the answer the other two men needed.
"Bones, you didn't?" asked Jim.
"He had just dumped you on that god-forsaken ice ball. I was angry."
"Yet another difference in the time lines," said Spock. He did not seem offended. "In my time, it took ten Earth days before my McCoy resorted to name-calling. Of course, he was older than you, and no doubt had mellowed somewhat with age."
Jim snorted. "A mellow McCoy. I'd like to see that." He looked at McCoy. "And you have the nerve to call me an infant, Bones."
And, you, being a in-control-of-yourself Vulcan, didn't retaliate, right?" asked McCoy, pointedly ignoring Jim.
Spock seemed unfazed by the question. "Indeed I did. I usually suggested that the good doctor head down to sickbay to polish his beads and rattles. It never failed to irritate him."
Jim stifled a laugh, while McCoy glared at them both. The ghost of amusement on Spock's face faded.
"I also have some valuable medical information from my time for you, Doctor."
"Aren't you worried about messing with time and all of that?" Jim asked, concern in his voice.
"In this particular instance, no. I owed my McCoy two great debts, for which I was never able to adequetely repay him," replied Spock evenly. He hand two data discs to McCoy. Jim looked over his shoulder at the label on the top disc.
"Xenopolycythemia - Treatement and Cure." he read.
"This is great news!" exclaimed McCoy. "Research on that disease has been stalled for so long. How did you get this?"
"In my time-line, we came upon a ship. The database of the Fabrini was particularly rich in medical information. We were able to adapt their cure to suit Human physiology."
"This is wonderful," enthused McCoy. He took one look at the label on the other disc and froze.
"What's myoneuropanalga-whatever? I've never heard of it." asked Jim, frowning at the label.
"It's rare, very rare," said McCoy faintly. Everything around him seemed to fade a bit.
"Bones, Bones?" It was Jim's voice, sounding hollow and distant. A strong hand grabbed his elbow and pushed him gently but firmly onto one of the stone benches on the terrace.,
"My apologies, Doctor. I had forgotten that with Humans, sometimes good news can be as shocking as bad news."
"Bones, what's going on?" demanded Kirk.
"Muh daddy," said McCoy, and then he stopped to compose himself. People complained that he was hard to understand when he got upset. Uhura could understand him, but then, she was a linguistic goddess. "My father. About four months ago he started showing the first symptoms. It's a horror of a disease. It destroys the muscles and motor neurons, while stimulating the pain receptors. It leaves patients begging for death."
Spock nodded gravely. "In my time-line, the cure came too late to save the older Dr. McCoy. It gave my McCoy much pain. He had saved so many, yet could not save his own father."
"Bones, why didn't you tell me?" asked Jim.
"Right after I found out, I was sent out to Capella for that mission, and you were so busy with that killer course load you're carrying," Jim interrupted him.
"You know, for such a smart guy, you can be a real idiot sometimes. You're supposed to tell friends this kind of stuff."
"Yeah, and you're so open and aboveboard with your personal problems," retorted McCoy.
"You got me there. Let's just promise that we'll try to do better in the future."
An ensign came up to them, stopping the discussion. "Cadet Kirk?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"Admiral Komack wants a word with you."
"Right." Kirk looked down at McCoy, still sitting on the bench. "You going to be OK?"
"Yeah, thanks. Run along. Don't keep the admiral waiting."
Kirk pushed his plate of hors d'oeures into McCoy's hands. "Eat something, buddy. You look like hell." He walked away, leaving McCoy with Spock.
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*See my story "Echoes of Another Past"
Part of this is based on something I witnessed over 20 years ago. A woman I worked with lost a close family member. After a few days, she claimed she was fine, and ready to move on. I remember all of us looking at each other and shaking our heads. The emotional meltdown came six months later; it was not pretty.
For those who missed those certain episodes of Star Trek Next Gen, Betazoid weddings are naked affairs - couple, family, guests, everyone. And when Betazoid women reach a certain age, they get rather...frisky.
This story assumes that neither Kirk nor McCoy know that Kirk is going to be made Captain.
If you know the show, you'll be able to take a pretty shrewd guess as to the two debts Spock is referring to. 5 virtual brownie points to the first reader to ring in with the correct answer.
In Star Trek V, it was revealed that McCoy's father had an incurable disease that left its victims in horrible pain. A few weeks after McCoy agreed to his father's request to "pull the plug" a cure was found. The disease was not named, so I cobbled together a partial name from a list of medical Greek and Latin roots.
All hail the Memory Alpha site, that keeps me from making enormous blunders - the small ones are bad enough.
If you ever get the chance, do visit the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Views are just as spectacular, and it much less crowded than the South Rim.
The third and final chapter is partially done. Remember! Feedback = food for muses. Still chugging away at part III - the major scenes are there - just trying to get them to flow smoothly into each other is a slightly bigger challenge. Suffice it to say one of the most hated women in Trek lore will make a cameo.