Technical Difficulties

Chapter 4: Of Rest and Reparations

((()))

Bones woke up in Sickbay on a cot. Even though it was pitch black, he knew exactly where he was. It was the feel of the place. He just knew it, he knew it so well it scared him. Like he'd spent years and years in this very room. The smell, the texture of the air was different from every other place he'd been, so familiar that he couldn't shake the underlying feeling of nostalgia.

Blinking away this odd notion, Bones tried to hunch up onto his elbows. He couldn't move more than three inches up. He struggled a bit, and felt the restraints pulled over him from the medical cot.

"What the fucking hell? They're strapping down the goddamn doctor in his own medical cot now?" Bones growled, frustrated. "I bet they locked the goddamn door, too! Dammit!"

He knew exactly what was going on. It was the same thing he had done to Jim two assignments ago after he refused to stay in Sickbay. This was Jim's revenge. Bones could almost hear the sick bastard's cackling now. In fact…

The door slid open with a beep. The laughter was more audible now, and Bones knew exactly who it was. How could he not?

"Lights 15%, computer." Jim's Captainly voice, with a slight undercurrent of restrained hilarity.

"Affirmative." The lights came to a dim glow, and Bones squinted his eyes.

"How's the patient doing, Doctor?" Jim asked with a sparkle of mischief in his eye.

"Dammit, Jim, get me out of these goddamn restraints."

"Ah, you noticed?" Jim asked innocently. "Well, Doctor, it is my responsibility to ensure your safety after you've been heavily incapacitated."

"Dammit, Jim! Don't use my own words against me!"

"But Doctor, the restraints are helping you to heal; if they weren't there, you would just get up to shenanigans like no other. I know you too well, Bones."

"…Jim, goddammit, get me the fuck out of these restraints, or so help me God…"

Jim laughed and pulled up a chair.

"…I'll add three more mandatory physicals to your schedule. Complete with injections."

"Jesus, Bones, why didn't you say so before?!" Jim exclaimed, and started pulling off the straps of enforced fabric from Bones' arms.

"That's better." Bones rubbed his arms and sat up.

He sighed and flopped back down on the bed, closing his eyes.

"…How's Slislislisnas… oh, hell, whatever the fuck his goddamn name is?"

Jim chuckled. "He's pulling through just fine. He can even speak now, after a bit of manual rehabilitation. Spock is working with him to increase inter-species awareness and Uhura is documenting his native language. He's a smartass, too, learning Standard so fast. I couldn't believe it when he walked up and apologized to me for attacking me. Very polite, too. Kind of like Spock, in a way."

Bones sighed in relief.

Jim paused.

"…He's asking about you, too."

Bones opened his eyes. Jim continued to speak after another moment of gauging Bones' reactions.

"He's a very compassionate creature. He knows how much you had to work to save him, and he's thankful to you. He feels indebted to both you and Mr. Spock, actually. He wants to thank you personally when you're released."

"Ah, hell." Bones covered his eyes with his hand, but he couldn't hide the small smile creeping onto his face. "That goddamn silver son of a bitch."

"But that can probably wait a day or two. You still need to get some rest."

Bones thought for a minute. "Jim, what day is it?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Goddamn it, Jim, just answer the question."

"Officially, it's now October 30. But unofficially, it's the eighth day after we badass motherfuckers traveled back in time."

Bones laughed. "I see why it's unofficial."

Bones thought for a second. "Wait… Did I sleep for an entire day?"

"Sure did."

"Was it medically induced?"

"Hell no."

"Was I locked in here the entire time?"

"That would be an affirmative, Doctor."

"Why the hell am I still laying around? I have a job to do, dammit! There are still injured crewmen! I know, I documented all of them myself! They need to be treated! Where are they? Call them here, I'll treat them!" Jim held Bones down on the cot with a look.

Jim held up a placating hand. "Don't worry so much, Bones. They've all been taken care of. You just get some rest."

"Oh, just like Scotty was supposed to be taken care of before he was brought to me? Taken care of my ass!"

"Nurse Chapel took care of all the rest of the patients, Bones. Don't you trust her judgment?"

Bones stopped and then settled back down. "I s'pose so."

Again, there was a small silence.

"Bones, I think you're going to get a commendation from this one."

Before he could complain, Jim silenced Bones with another look.

So Bones settled for grousing. "What the hell for?"

Jim let out an unexpected spurt of laughter. "Oh, I don't know. Your dashing profile when you hold up your medical tricorder, maybe."

"Jim, I don't want an award for what I've done. I lost crewmen." Bones' voice cracked and got quieter. "I lost Lieutenant Romaine. Scotty's all alone now."

Jim put his hand comfortingly on Bones' shoulder. "Hey, Bones, buddy. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it fucking was."

"No, it was not." Jim's voice suddenly rang with authority. "And you will not see it that way, goddamn it. Spock's right; you are stupidly illogical sometimes."

Bones sat up indignantly. "How dare you take that goddamn green-blooded hobgoblin's side!"

Jim sighed, frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair. "Goddamn it, Bones, you pull off one impossible medical miracle after another, saving a decorated Chief Engineer and making a First Contact easier than hell, and I can't even commend you?"

"That's right." Bones sat up and stretched. He yawned. "And if you commend me on this one, Jim, I might have to amp up my list of vaccinations recommended per year."

"You wouldn't!"

"I would."

"Well then, I'll take it to the Federation Medical Board, because no way in hell am I not commending you."

Bones huffed and gave it up.

"Fine, dammit." When Jim continued to glare, "I'll even show up."

Jim whooped in victory. Bones smirked before his face took on something serious.

"But you got to give one to Scotty, too."

Jim held up one hand to acknowledge him.

"Already done, Doctor. Already done."

Another comfortable pause.

"He's okay, then?"

"Who, Scotty?"

"Who else would we be talking about, Jim?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure, he's fine. Chapel checked up on him a few times manually, since he wouldn't check in. He's been working on the ship again, and we're trying to stop him, but for the most part, I think it'll do him good to stop thinking about it."

They paused this time, and this silence was heavy. Bones' head dipped down from the weight on his shoulders.

"Goddammit." He said quietly, with just enough emphasis to make Jim's eyes close and clench together in an attempt not to let it show.

Bones' hands curled into fists, and his back curled so that he was completely inside himself, hidden by his hugged knees.

Bones knew that Scotty was in serious pain, grieving the loss. But Bones knew that the one who was hurt the most was Jim, who had to report to the families, who had to deal with the pain of everyone else, who had to dig out the pain from everyone else. Scotty had lost one loved one – Jim had just lost more than twenty.

Now that he thought about it, it made sense to Bones more and more that he was the one who should be making these types of moves, and not Jim. It was ridiculous for a Captain to take on the duties of his Chief Medical Officer, and it pained Bones to see Jim going through so much pain for his sake. He knew that a Captain still had to make the call, but it was the least Bones could do to make the psychological reports on the close members of the deceased.

He resolved to reform that in the future. Jim shouldn't have to go through the entire process by himself.

He sighed and straightened himself.

"I'm ready for duty, Captain."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious, Jim. The only thing wrong with me was lack of sleep."

"Well, have it your way, you stubborn son of a bitch. You're perfectly healthy. But there's no way in hell you're working now. You're on leave."

"Jim…"

"Look, Bones, the Enterprise just went to hell and back. It needs to be repaired. Besides…" Jim paused again. "All of the funerals are going to happen this week."

Bones took this in.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Both of them were quiet again, contemplating the enormity of the losses sustained.

"Jim…"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Never mind."

"Bones, don't leave me hanging with that shit."

"Fine, kid, I won't, dammit." Bones swung his legs over the side of the cot. "I'm going to take charge of all the psychoanalysis."

Jim looked up, surprised. "Okay, if you think you should."

"Yeah."

"Okay, then."

There was another silence, both of them mulling over what had happened to their ship. They felt comfortable in the silence.

Bones spoke up again.

"Jim…"

"What, Bones?"

"That stash of alcohol you were trying to find is in the first storage box in my office on the left."

Jim hopped up and strode into his office. "Which do you want?"

"Just pull out the red wine."

"Are there glasses in here too?" Jim called from the other room.

"They're in the next compartment." Bones called back.

And so, here they were again, sipping vin rouge in Sickbay, trying to spice the silence with confessions of regrets and feelings.

One after another, first Jim and then Bones, they confided in each other all of their doubts and remorse's about the previous mission. When they got through another heartbreaking strand of pain or loneliness, they clinked their glasses together. There was no criticism, only complete sympathy and attempted understanding. They were just trying to let everything loose.

When the bottle was empty, Jim and Bones tapped glasses once more before downing the last gulp of wine.

"To the Enterprise." Jim always gave the toast.

"Amen to that." And Bones always agreed with it.

"You know, Bones, we gotta get you to your quarters."

"Ah, yeah, kid, I know, I gotcha."

Bones stood up slowly and slung his arm over Jim's shoulders. He was in no condition to walk by himself, after all that wine and not enough recuperation. The wine might have been a bad move, but Bones couldn't bring himself to care. Taking care of Jim's battered emotions was more important to him.

"Ya know, Jim, we gonna hafta get us some more wine fer next time." Bones knew his southern accent was creeping back in, but he couldn't stop it. He was too tired.

"What makes you think there's going to be a next time?" They stumbled into the hallway.

"Mmm, well, I s'pose it was my goddamn near perfect insight." Bones sighed. "We ain't got 'nuff liquor to last more n' two more missions, son."

Jim chuckled. "I guess every mission is like this one, huh? They all turn out to be just as dangerous as the last one."

"Damn straight, Jim. Every single goddamn one." They were reaching his quarters, now, and Bones knew his fatigue was catching up to him again once the doors came in sight.

"Shit, Jim, I'm so goddamn tired." Somehow Bones had made it inside, and flopped down on his bed like a goddamn ragdoll.

"Don't even worry about it, Bones. Nobody is even going to call you in here, I'll make sure of it. I'll check up on you tomorrow and bring you a shiny visitor if you're feeling up to it."

"Affirmative, Captain," mumbled Bones, as he drifted into sleep.

((()))

Jim brought him some food the next day at lunch time, some of the things he loved. The most memorable was the authentic Georgia peach.

"Jim, how the hell did you get this peach?" Bones held it up to the light, doubting its very existence.

Jim smirked. "Well, it seems like a Starship Captain can get almost anything when he needs it."

"I'm gonna hafta get in on that connection, Jim, if you know what I mean."

"Sure, sure." Jim laughed. "I'll personally hook you up."

"Good." Bones felt the fuzzy skin of the peach with his thumb, closing his eyes and just allowing the aroma to drift up into his nose. "Damn, it's been a long time since I've had one of these... Another reason to hate space travel."

He reverently held the peach up to his mouth and brushed his lips over the soft fuzz. Then Bones took a bite.

Immediately, Bones froze in place. His jaw stopped mid-crunch, and his entire body tensed.

"That good, huh?" Jim laughed. "I haven't seen that in a while."

Bones' face was filled with awe, and slowly disbelieving delight.

"Jim, this peach..." He didn't complete the sentence. He couldn't form another coherent thought.

Not about to rush the moment, Bones took his sweet time in eating that slice of golden heaven from Mother Earth herself.

JIm knew it was no use talking to Bones to try to get any response, so he just talked about whatever he wanted to. Meaning, lectures on nuclear science he'd been pondering, ethical issues surrounding his captaincy, and new developments with the whole 'Spock friendship' thing he had going on. Bones barely registered most of the science, but rolled his eyes when Jim started going on about Spock.

"Please, Jim, don't ruin this peach for me. Talk about somethin' else."

"Sure, Bones." Jim stopped for a second. "But you know, Spock is really something else when it comes to phenotype versus genotype. He can tell plants apart just by looking at them which genotype they are, even if they're heterozygous! Isn't that amazing? He's going to try to explain some of the key differences to me when we have our epic game of chess later this month."

"Jim... Have you heard about his chess record? Dammit, man, he's a grandmaster. Chess is all about logic, and logic is his game." Bones got pulled into it somehow. He usually did. Jim always pulled him into whatever he was talking about.

"But Bones, that's my entire point - life isn't about logic, it's all about innovation. Even if Spock's logic is perfect in a game of chess, if it's all in response to another player with no imagination, he'll be beaten." Jim spread his hands earnestly. "If all he ever does is act logically, then he can never reach the truly creative, and in this case, win a game."

"Jim, he's a goddamn grandmaster. I think it's possible that he might have won a few games before."

"Yeah, yeah, but not against me. We've never played before."

"Well, that might not be the case in another month. You just wait and see."

"I'll do that." Switching topics like lightning, Jim continued on his rampage.

Bones sat back in his chair, not really paying much attention. He was glad Jim was gibbering like a goddamn monkey again, because it meant that he was beginning to get back to normal, dealing with his loss and moving on for the moment.

"So Bones, what do you think?" Jim smirked at him; he knew Bones hadn't been listening, didn't he?

"What the hell do you want, kid?" Bones sipped his drink.

Jim sighed in mock agony. "What does a man have to do to get a straight answer?"

"Ask his goddamn question again."

"Deep, Bones. Real deep."

"Just ask it, goddammit."

"What do you think of Uhura, Bones?"

Bones started. "The little lieutenant on Communications?"

"Yeah, Bones."

Bones pondered that for a moment.

After a while, one sound came out. "Hm."

"Oh, is that the answer I get?"

"Be patient, kid. Might do you some good in the long run."

After he took another sip of his drink, Bones began to talk.

"I think she's young, maybe too young to be in a command position, like you, but full of energy, talent, and drive to make up for it. She's aggressive as hell, I don't think she'd settle for anything less than what she wants. And she's logical. Very logical." Bones paused and glanced at Jim. "She definitely is hard to please, and always looks for perfection in everything. That might be why she likes that green-blooded hobgoblin so much. And..."

Jim was looking down at the ground now.

"And she's very pretty, too, I suppose. She's too damn young for me, but you might have a good chance if her and Spock don't work out."

Jim abruptly stood up.

"No, no, I don't know about that, Bones."

Bones was startled at that. "Well, why the hell not?"

Jim started making large gestures to try to explain himself. The words that came from his mouth were rushed. "Well, you know, when I have a girl under my command, I can't just sleep around with her. Uhura used to just be a pretty girl at the Academy, but now she's my lieutenant. Besides, she's a friend now, not someone who I can play around with, you know? Yeah, I know I still blatantly flirt with her all the time, but it's not like I'm serious, it's just the way I am, you know? I would never do something that would disrespect her, and even if she is really pretty, which she is, I can't really see her that way anymore, because she's just, she's just like, she's a person who looks up to me and respects me because of my rank and my talents, and I can never really break that wall anyway because she's all about things like commitment and fidelity and she can't see those things in me, and, well, jeez, Bones, do you get me?"

Bones thought for a moment.

"You're trying to tell me... That you ain't interested in Uhura? And that you can't date anyone who you like as a friend?"

Jim relaxed and smiled. "Exactly."

Bones thought for another moment.

"Are you sure about that second one? Because I know for a fact what 'chess' usually stands for."

Jim looked like a deer caught in the headlights, according to Bones.

"Bones!"

"You think I'm blind, kid?"

"Well, no, but I didn't think that anyone would notice."

"Son, it's more obvious than Sulu."

Jim sat down slowly, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

"But don't worry so goddamn much, Jim. Spock is completely blind about these things. He needs straightforwardness for him to notice anything."

"Is it really that obvious...?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Jim."

And just then, Jim's communicator beeped. Jim jerked out of his reverie.

"That'll be Slistastostas now."

But it wasn't.

"Captain, we are in the briefing room. Is the Doctor ready for the meeting or will he need an additional period of time for mental recuperation?"

Jim rolled his eyes with a smile, knowing Bones was watching him. "No, Mr. Spock, we'll be there momentarily." He flipped the communicator shut.

"What the hell is this meeting? And what the hell was that? Mental recuperation?"

"Bones, I had to say something. I don't think telling Slistastostas that the reason you couldn't meet with him right away was because we had to have a bottle of wine and some manly heart-to-heart."

"Yeah, in the future I would rather have you say the mental recuperation excuse."

"Anytime."

And then they got going.

The halls were still hellish, broken down and burned, as soon as they stepped out of Sickbay. Teams were everywhere as they got closer and closer to the briefing room, trying to fix the damage. Bones was glad he didn't need any help walking anymore, because too many people under his command would have seen him walking like a cripple.

Though he supposed it actually didn't matter, because he was scary as hell to his deserving underlings, limp or no limp. He turned his mind to other things.

"Jim, tell me again why we're still on this ship."

"Because, Bones, the beaming systems aren't operational yet. Everyone who's gone down to the planet has had to go by shuttlecraft."

"Makes a helluva lot of sense to me."

"Aren't you glad we don't have to beam down for this meeting?"

"Always am when that damn beaming system is down."

Jim chuckled as they made their way through the halls. It was like the Red Sea was parting, with all of the workers scrambling to get out of the Captain's way. Bones would bet that Jim didn't even notice anymore. He probably thought that they treated everyone that way now.

Finally, they were there. Jim manually opened the door, and the two commanding officers stepped into the briefing room.

The first thing Bones saw was Slistastistastaslaslos or whatever the hell his name was. He was bigger than Bones remembered, with the girth of an enormous bear and the height of about ten feet. Maybe it had something to do with him standing up straight instead of keeling over on the ground from wounds. Something Bones hadn't been able to see in the cave was his hair - it was thin, gold metal that fell into a curvy, wavy pattern on his silvery head. Bones wondered why there would be a need for hair, but he supposed there was some logical reason that he couldn't possibly fathom.

Then he spoke. Even his voice was metallic.

"Chief Medical Officer McCoy. I am Slistastostas the Siresian. You may address me as Slistas, if it so pleases you, as I have heard my name is difficult to properly pronounce."

"Well then, Slistas, it's nice to be formally acquainted with you. You can cut the address to just Doctor McCoy, Doctor, or even Bones, I suppose."

"Thank you for your invitation of informality, Doctor McCoy."

"Of course."

Slistas outstretched his hand, glancing back at Spock for confirmation. Spock gave a slight nod.

"Would it be too much to ask a handshake of you, Doctor McCoy?"

"No trouble." Bones shook hands with him, and then the four of them sat at the table.

Slistas was given the go ahead by Spock, and it began.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" Slistas queried.

Kirk responded, "Well, we have little to no information on the Colony XI where you were held. Mr. Spock informs me that you were held there against your will?"

"Yes, Captain. That is so."

"Can you further inform us of the circumstances that you endured on the colony?"

"No, I cannot."

"Why not?"

"I am unable to recount any of the following events after my capture until the moment I woke when Commander Spock initiated a mental trasference."

Jim glanced at both Spock and then Bones. Spock nodded, and Bones just creased his forehead.

"Are you informing me that you had no control over your actions when you were attempting to destroy the Enterprise?"

"That is correct. I was responding according to instinct, and possibly to the memory files that have been deleted."

"Deleted?"

"Captain, I have studied the works of carbon-humanoid anatomy under Commander Spock, and it appears that the minds of carbon-humanoids do not work similarly to those of the Siresians. I believe the proper analogy drawn is that our brain works like a computer. My memory is stored here - " Slistas tapped his head, " - and it seems as if those files have been damaged from this specific timeframe purposefully. I have knowledge and control over the functions of my body, and I recognize the effects of tampering."

"Could Mr. Scott theoretically fix the damage?"

"It is a possibility, but I would still not remember the needed information. In order for me to remember, I would need the files."

"You mean, someone actually operated on your head to pull them out?" Bones interjected. "They didn't just damage your brain, they pulled part of it out?"

"Negative, Doctor McCoy. The damage inflicted was all electrical in nature. Advanced machinations manipulated the placement of the files within my body after scrambling the behavioral and decisive brain function algorithms."

"So they're lost somewhere in you?" Bones pondered for a second. "Jim, I think it would be best to call up Scotty."

"After we figure out exactly what needs to be done. You said it yourself, Bones, Scotty needs some rest."

"Truer words never spoken."

"Moving on... Slistas, about Colony XI, is there anything you can remember at all? About how you arrived there? Do you know why you were there?"

"I recall the fact that my stay there was over a period of time classified as decades."

Jim looked at Spock, who typed the information into a PADD with his long fingers.

"Also, I know that I did not travel there by choice. I was taken from my home and family. I know not of the craft that took me, but I was stolen from my clan with no warning."

Spock's fingers stilled, Jim's tapping foot froze, and Bones' elbow slipped from the table.

"I have no idea as to why I was taken, nor to what purpose I was put to when I reached the planet. These are facts only uncovered by my reclamation of memory files, most likely."

Captain Kirk crossed his arms and laid them on the table, his face completely serious.

"Slistas, you will be returned to your clan, make no mistake. All the injustices you have endured will be in turn put to justice."

"Thank you, Captain." Slistas closed his eyes in a sign of respect and trust.

"Slistas, is there any way for us to help you reclaim your memory?"

"There are many ways, but I fear that these ways are vague, and incur danger."

"Such as?"

Slistas hesitated for a millisecond.

"Returning to the memory, reliving the memory. Going to the planet, and seeing the familiar sights and hearing the familiar sounds, might spark the similarities. My search engine could theoretically pick up the hidden memory files from such stipulations."

Jim smiled. "It seems like amnesia isn't so different from species to species after all."

Slistas cocked his head to the side, confused. "Your meaning, Captain?"

Bones smiled. "He means that we use the same methods of obtaining our lost memories."

"Most interesting, Slistas." Spock spoke up. "We must do a comparative analysis between the carbon-humanoid and the metallic-humanoid in the future based on behavior and mental responses."

"Indeed, Commander. It would be my pleasure to work with you on this venture."

Jim closed the formal meeting. "Well, then, gentlemen, let's head to lunch. Slistas, would you care to join us at 1300 hours in the Mess Hall?"

"It would be my pleasure, Captain. Where should I reside in the meantime?"

"You may accompany us, or you could possibly see an Engineer for the type of sustenance you require." Mr. Spock stated.

Slistas left for Engineering, leaving the three commanding officers to mesh out a plan of action in the cafeteria.

"Well, it seems that not all is right in Colony XI. Kidnapping, torture, and diplomatic deception."

Stabbing vengefully into a tomato, Jim asked the all-pervading question.

"What the hell do we do now, gentlemen?"

"I have an outline of a plan, Captain."

"Go ahead, Mr. Spock."

"First, we must fully restore our crew and ship to full efficiency, most evidently. Then, the next step is the infiltration of Colony XI."

"Go on, Mr. Spock."

There was a hesitation.

"It is highly dangerous and could result in the ceasing of talks between the Federation and the Colony."

"Go on, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, I believe the next action that we must take is to return to Colony XI and have the talks with the representatives of the Zanabares people as planned. After the negotiations have begun, crewmen would infiltrate the culture of the colony. Trouble would occur, such as a violent interaction, to draw attention away from the operation at hand."

"Of course, Mr. Spock. Of what would this operation entail?"

"Captain, the operation would likely evolve according to the results found and analyzed at the planet's surface. Adaptation to the circumstances will be necessary for each phase of the infiltration."

"So, you're telling me we're going to be shooting from the hip, huh?"

"...Captain, hopefully no firearms will need to be used in this venture."

Jim laughed. "A colorful turn of speech, Mr. Spock." Then he flipped back to being serious. "Since this operation is so on the fly, every one of my officers is going to be carrying a phaser."

Then, Captain Kirk began the highly intellectual visual plot of his quickly forming plan by arranging the carrots, lettuce, and the spinach on his plate. He started asking questions, bouncing them off of Spock and Bones, hardly ever waiting for an answer and rolling ahead as fast as his mind could go.

"Okay, so, how the hell are we supposed to get Slistas to the surface without the Zanabares picking him up, how the hell do we hide him on the surface, where do we head to infiltrate, and who do we pick for the teams? I want people who have combat training, Spock. Find me a list of twenty people in advanced levels of combat training. I recommend Sulu and Cupcake for a start, but moving on." He shifted the biggest piece of lettuce as Spock began rapidly typing up a list. "This is the basic plot of the land where we are going to beam onto. This is the capital building where we'll be talking, this is a storage area, I suppose, and could you check the use of this particular building, Mr. Spock?"

A moment. "It is labelled as a recreational building, sir."

"Okay, then. All of the surrounding buildings are for shipbuilding or landing. Any other major buildings in this area are unknown by Starfleet. When we arrive on the planet, look out for any buildings or areas that were not mentioned by the Zanabares, because that will indicate that they don't want us to know about it. That's where we'll start with the infiltration. Mr. Spock, if you would, please test the sensors on these coordinates as soon as we are in orbit and run it past the given information. That will make it a bit easier, I suppose." He munched on a piece of lettuce. "Make sure you don't limit sensors to aboveground, Mr. Spock. Whatever they may be hiding, I don't believe it will stay where it can be easily seen. Check for tunnels, underground storage units, anything. Remember, we're trying to find an entire group of kidnappers who torture their prisoners, and if they're allowing us to check in on them, it's going to be hidden where we don't usually look."

"Yes, sir."

"The method we'll use to get Slistas onto the planet will be the really tricky part; convincing the Zanabares that we need metal luggage down there is next to impossible. He will, of course, need to pass off as some type of metal contraption. What will we disguise him as? A new type of machine that could help the Zanabares somehow? Spock, what is their major export?"

"They farm many different species of grains and vegetables, Captain."

"Jesus, Jim, why couldn't we just pass him off as a Starfleet officer? Why does he have to pass as a machine?"

"Well, they could just check our records and our game would be up."

"Well, Jim, we could generate human skin over his platinum skin and he could almost pass as a human. I could do the job with my dermal regenerator in about a half an hour."

"What about his eyes?"

"Well, maybe he could wear colored contact lenses."

"That sounds good, but what about his identity? Mr. Spock?"

"I could possibly formulate a false record of Slistas' history and enter him as a member of our crew."

"That's good, so he'll be disguised as a human."

"Well, he'll have to agree to it."

"Of course, Bones. But it is our best option. Moving on. We disguise Slistas. We send him with the infiltrators to find the torture chambers so that he can remember the awful things that happened to him. Then we can use him in a trial against his perpetrators and we can piece together the entire picture of what's going on here."

"Captain, there is a possibility that relations with the Zanabares government will seriously decline if we go through with this plan."

Jim grinned. "Not if we're careful. Remember, the Zanabares government might be trustworthy, or they might be deceiving us. They could be behind this entire thing. If they aren't, then they should be thankful for our intervention in this strange torturing situation."

"What if they don't want us to intervene in this, Jim?"

"Well, Bones, this torture bullshit is the reason why I lost more than twenty men last week. If the Zanabares want us to stay the hell out of their business, we have our business to take care of." Jim's face hardened. "If I have to, I'll take the responsibility for starting a war with Colony XI and the Federation."

The table was suddenly silent. Bones was hit with the magnitude of the situation.

"In the meantime, we have a few weeks to recuperate." Jim cracked his carrot in half with his teeth. "This gives us ample time to fill in small details and gather any information about the Zanabares not in the databanks of the ship. Spock, you continue to work with Slistas on that comparative species project. Bones, you'll be doing the psychs on the crewmembers who lost friends and family, but if you have time, I want you to work with Spock on that. Spock, make sure Scotty is informed about Slistas' problems and brief him as you see fit. Oh, and I want all information briefed to me at the end of each day on each project. If either of you have any great ideas on how to improve the extremely vague plan we have so far on infiltration, you include it in your brief. Don't inform any of the crew of this operation. We'll tell only when we need to to who we need to tell, which means that when formal repairs start on the Enterprise, we'll inform the combat units of our findings and basic plans of action."

"Yes, sir." Bones and Spock said it in unison.

"That's it for lunch, gentlemen. Now all that's left is to brief Slistas on these new designs."

And so Spock ended up explaining the whole thing, as Jim was called away for a meeting on Earth. Apparently those goddamn beaming machines were operational again.

And Slistas agreed to the slightly insane plan the three of them had cooked up.

So according to Jim, things were smooth sailing.

But as Bones fell back into his old leather armchair in his quarters, taking mouthfuls of his flask, his tired eyes closed in something he wouldn't recognize as defeat. Every wounded man that had passed through his hands had left a scar on his heart. Those young boys hadn't known what they were signing up for, and now they were lost. And it was fault they were gone. He could perform as many medical miracles as the next Doctor Houdini, but that was so limited to the perfect conditions, with teams of impressionable little specialists flocking around. In a disaster, there weren't any teams, there weren't any goddamn hi-tech utensils. A doctor only has his tricorder, hypo, and instinct to follow.

Sure, Spock and Jim could blast forward through travesty after travesty, no matter how scarred they were. He had seen it dozens of times already, each one doing exceptional work, perfect work, in fact, no matter how damaged. Bones knew that they weren't held back by their limited resources, and that they always fought with what they had to the perfect result.

But Bones couldn't do that. Kirk and Spock were young, so young. But Bones... Bones was old, now. His heart was covered with scars, so broken.

It was a strong heart, a stubborn heart. It was like a train with sparking wheels and rusty breaks, pounding on through the disaster and unable to stop after it was over.

So yes, Bones did his job, and he did it damn well.

But he was still there.

In that moment, where the blood and the stench and the screams had taken their toll.

He was in the moment where he couldn't comprehend the pain, couldn't see the end of the tunnel, couldn't understand the meaning of it all.

Bones took another swig of his flask.

Sometimes Bones thought that he felt too much. He felt the pain of every single patient that he treated, so that they all left an impression, weighing down on his shoulders, mind, and heart.

And he was alone.

Painfully alone.

Yes, Bones had Jim and the rest of the crew. He knew that he was surrounded by friends. But every night, when he went back to his cabin, ready to fall asleep, he was always struck with how empty the room was.

There was furniture, there was entertainment, but there was no one else.

Bones had always been a loner, but ever since his divorce, he couldn't seem to ever get comfortable with himself. Maybe it was because he finally knew now what it meant to have someone, so he knew what he was missing. No giggles, no crayon scribbles, no thudding footsteps.

Bones missed his daughter. He missed knowing that he was going to watch her grow up, knowing he was going to teach her how to live in the real world. He missed his wife caring for him after he got back home from work, and cooking him dinner, and filling his coffee cup.

He missed someone having his back.

Bones drank and drank and drank until he fell back into his armchair, back into the blackness, back into sleep.

The last thought he had before he passed out was that he was going to have a helluva hangover the next morning.

((()))

End of Part 4