"Sulu . . ." McCoy said, as they entered the transporter room. "I hate to be the emotional luggage, but thank you for bein' there for me."
"That is what friends are for." Sulu said.
Sulu got on-board the transporter big enough for two people with his luggage alongside him. In a golden flash the man was gone. This would be the first time he used a transporter. He took a shuttle craft to the starbase. He didn't trust those deceiving innocent looking bastards that could kill him by 'accident'! His atoms reorganized, scattered, and then replaced but there is a distinctive possibility that there could be a day the transporter will malfunction. Where his atoms will not take on their natural shape, his pattern scattered all over the galaxy, and only a disgusting pathetic mess of human tissue remaining because of the transporter malfunction. There are known cases to happen. Transporters were unknown, unpredictable in the field of science and in the past hundred years they have only garnered reassurance that death won't happen every time a person is beamed to and from. Last year a person died during transport . . . But it only turned out Romulan firing made him kick the can. McCoy did not like the transporter, period.
Kirk would be laughing at his friend's concern and tell him that it would be all right.
He stood there for five minutes staring at the transporter, until he walked aboard the transporter and turned around.
"Ready to beam over?" The man behind the console asked.
McCoy nodded.
"Ready." McCoy said.
McCoy's surroundings changed before his eyes straight into a white transporter room. For six years Star Fleet was lenient on him for leaving right after he graduated and went n his own search for Kirk. That search lasted roughly four years, he searched on and off Earth in that time. Grieving for some-one who might as well be dead or alive lasted for two years. He had met Sulu in the beginning with Chekov, his right hand best friend, holding books in his arms that were related to plant life after Kirk's disappearance. But Star Fleet all of a sudden decided to draft McCoy and bring him into space. He had arranged visits with Joanna, his little girl and he was there for the important parts of her life.
"Welcome aboard, Doctor McCoy." Michell said, with a familiar Vulcan alongside him who had his arms behind his back.
There was a flicker of recognition in Spock's eyes.
McCoy's assigned quarters were 127 on Deck 9, section 2.
"Hello, Captain, Commander." McCoy said, stepping off the transporter pad.
Kirk would have wanted McCoy, despite how much he hated the pointy eared green blooded hobgoblin, to see past the grudge he had with Spock. Their relationship would sink when not on the clock, that much McCoy knew,when the Vulcan would at least try to do so. I hate logic, McCoy thought. He started to despise logic applied by Vulcans shortly after the disappearance of his friend. Star Fleet had assured Winona they would find Kirk. McCoy personally visited Winona and insisted "If Star Fleet cannot find him, then I will . . . one way or another. Jim can't be hidden from me. And when I find him. I will bring him back. I promise."
"Doctor McCoy," Michell said. "I am glad to have a doctor like you aboard the Enterprise."
Thisdoesntfeelrightthisdoesnfeelrightthisdoesntfeelrightjimshouldbecaptainjmshouldbecaptainjimshouldbecaptain, McCoy was internally screaming.
It was like the universe was blatantly disregarding the known barriers and informing the doctor that this reality was simply not right and it had to be fixed. Suddenly, unexpectedly, McCoy could picture Kirk standing there with hands by his side wearing his beaming smile and optimistic eyes with the Vulcan along side him holding out one hand toward the doctor preparing to slap the side of his arm. It felt surreal. Then it faded quickly as it had come revealing Michell where Kirk had stood and the emotionless unchanged Vulcan stood beside him.
"Best (thirty-four) years of my life." McCoy recalled his counterpart's reply.
"I hope the next five years will be eventful." McCoy said.
"Logically, it will be." Spock said.
McCoy glared over at the Vulcan's direction then back toward Michell.
"If I die, it will be the damn Vulcan's fault!" McCoy said, going toward the doors with his luggage.
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"That would be illogical, doctor." Spock replied
"ILLOGICAL MY ASS!" McCoy shouted back as the doors closed behind him.
"Poor doctor," Michell said, shaking his head. "Losing a friend like that? He is still in pain."
"How does one feel pain when it has not been inflicted?" Spock asked.
"The kind of one when someone very close to you leaves this world, it's how their departure makes you feel by the inside, Mr Spock," Michell said, as they turned away from the transporter and headed toward the doors.
At the transporter console was Montgomery Scott with his friend Freenser underneath fixing some internal wiring. In a golden flash on the transporter pad appeared McCoy's left shoe. The captain and the commander exited the transporter room going in a different direction that the doctor was not heading. Scotty rubbed the side of his face recollecting whether or not the doctor had come without his shoe. Apparently he had. The Doctor came back in steaming, his hands clenched into fists, and he put on the shoe. The doctor grumbled something about "Damn transporter. It is wildly unpredictable."
Freenser poked his head out holding a screwdriver.
"Did you get it?" Scotty asked.
Freenser nodded as the doctor exited the transporter room.