Archive of Our Own ^beta

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        After that, he has about a million things he has to do and can’t bring himself to move. He realizes he’s crying when Spock walks in and instantly freezes still. He can finally move, if only to rub his hands at his eyes. “Sorry for the emotional outburst.”

        Spock’s still frowning, but if Jim’s gotten any better about reading it, that’s not the frown of ‘Kirk is a problem’. “The message you received troubled you.” He’d probably come to the conclusion already, without the evidence of Kirk’s tears, just from the fact that he hadn’t come back to the bridge. Come to that conclusion, and followed to make sure he’d be fine. Man, having friends is kinda awesome, actually. Even when they’re half-Vulcans without much experience dealing with the kind of friends who’d make a scene. Unsure of where to put his hands, Spock eventually just clasps them behind him. It’s kind of funny, actually.

        “I’ll get to that in a minute.” He has to get this in motion before he breaks down again. He comms Pike. “Hey, nothing big, just call me when you’re free.” Hopefully that’s good enough of a code to read when you’re on an encrypted channel but he’s a little too frazzled to come up with anything fancy. He leaves it at that, turning back to Spock. “You keep on top of the latest science developments, right?”

        Spock’s blank stare says he has no idea how that connects with anything. “Of course.”

        “You’ve read about the Genesis Project, right?” He starts hacking into the network, multitasking. Again. Admiral Marcus might be a little more tempted to investigate this one, but...hmm, introducing static, corrupting the signal. That could work. At the silence he glances up to see Spock has raised an eyebrow, glancing deliberately at his hacking. “Don’t start quoting regs at me now; I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t necessary.”

        “I am more concerned about what necessitated such actions,” Spock admits. “I have, of course, kept informed about the status of the research. It is not ready for testing.”

        “Well, yeah, officially.” The other eyebrow joins the first. “Carol Marcus just called me. Her dad runs some kind of black ops, supposedly, and he wants to turn it into a weapon. The fact that she’s worried about this now means it’s probably close to testing, but had been put on the backburner after a bunch of stuff with clearer military applications. We’re gonna throw her into the spotlight, instead. They can’t disappear her or her work if she’s out in the open and if billions of people are gonna notice.” He’s probably going to make enemies (okay, firmer enemies, he’s been under no illusions that the only reason Marcus hasn’t gone after him harder is that Pike likes him and he still cares at least a little about what Pike thinks), but like hell is he going to just stand by when something’s wrong. “They could make an enemy of the Vulcans, but it’d be a thoughtless move. They’d be checkmating themselves.”

        He glances back up, and Spock’s frozen again. Then, tonelessly, he concludes, “You wish to use her project to create a new planet for my people.”

        It’s not disapproval. Probably. He’s probably shutting down because that’s too much emotion for him to process in the moment. So he keeps going. “It’s a great reason to make a big deal out of it right now. Push for more funding, faster work, a test. And has the added advantage of giving your people a new home, too.” Spock is still not moving. Barely breathing.

        “You okay?” Maybe he moved just a little too fast. Like that’s anything new.

        That’s...actually the trace of a smile. “Indeed. Jim, thank you.”

        He waves that off. He should’ve been on this, like, at least last year. “Eh, I figure it’s a gift balanced by the fact that I’m probably going to make a whole lot of Vulcans have to work really hard to deal with emotions. Besides, I’m kinda being blackmailed into it. Don’t give me too much credit. I didn’t think of it on my own.”

        He’s probably managed to confuse the hell out of Spock again. “As is fairly common when dealing with you, Captain, I do not understand.”

        Yeah, yeah, when he’s not running around the galaxy doing massively unwise things, he’s actually slow on the uptake. Sometimes. Well, more like he gets distracted. And sure, it wouldn’t have been ready, a year ago, but still. It’s something he should’ve put in motion already. Pike’s an admiral, now. And the Vulcans have been suffering, adrift, for too long now. He’d say it’s something he doesn’t get. It’s not like he needs the Earth. The Enterprise is his home and she’s a beaut. But he can only say that because it’s still out there, not like Vulcan. Thousands of years of culture, of history, wiped out. No more visiting, nothing left, an entire sentient species the shadow of what it’d been? Never mind being able to sense the pain beneath the surface, he can imagine it only too well, and not just because Vulcan hadn’t been the only target. “We’ve been really busy and it hadn’t occurred to me before.”

        “I was referring to the blackmail.” Spock doesn’t acknowledge the admission of fault, which at this point probably means he doesn’t blame Kirk. Even though he should. Then again...the same thing could’ve occurred to him. He’d had the same data, and if anything even more motivation to apply the research, and he hadn’t thought of it either, so he’s probably taking the extremely logical action of not blaming his Captain or he’d have to blame himself.

        Time for the panic, apparently. “As you know, I’m kind of...really sexually active. So I try to make sure I’m responsible. It wouldn’t take too much for me to get an STI and transmit it to a whole lot of people—hell, with my weirdo constitution I might not even notice. But it only takes one mistake, and, well.” The panic is starting to creep again now, at the edges. “Spock, I have a kid I didn’t even know about.”

        This is apparently bad enough that Spock stops trying to keep his distance and actually ends up putting a hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “How old?”

        It’s actually kind of good to keep thinking about the logistics. It’s a little harder for numbers or facts to hurt you. “Probably three or four years ago, back in the Academy. The kid might be old enough to go dreamwalking, but I didn’t start needing sex until I was a teenager. And I have to warn her, because she’ll need to be prepared and the kid deserves to have a parent that actually knows what the hell is going on, but.” He sounds a little miserable. “I really don’t want to.”

        “Lieutenant Uhura, please report to the second briefing room.” At a look, he explains, “Nyota is more accustomed to comforting than am I.”

        Kirk finds an absurd sense of loss there. He’d actually been kind of having fun with the whole ‘guess her name’ game. Then he realizes that it doesn’t have to stop, actually. “I’ll keep the fact that you blabbed her first name a secret.”

        One of these days, Spock’s eyebrow is gonna get stuck there. He holds onto that funny thought, because it’s keeping the tears at bay, right up until the point when Uhura actually appears in the doorway, and the genuine empathy she feels on seeing him looking such a mess breaks him again. At least she gives good hugs, and probably isn’t going to complain about the tears. Spock’s even thoughtful enough to grab a tissue so he’s not getting snot everywhere.

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        He kind of freezes just like Spock had when he finally gets the comm and it’s both Pike and Boyce, crammed into Pike’s home office. “Kid, what happened?” Pike asks, quiet and gentle, and he breaks again.

        He manages to actually talk through his tears this time, though. “Remember how I said I wasn’t a dad? I didn’t know I was lying.”

        “Jim—” Maybe he should let Pike talk and actually react, but he can’t stop talking now that he’s started.

        “And Carol Marcus is using the kid as a bargaining chip to keep her father off her back and apparently he’s running Section 31 and I figured the best way to follow through is to get her to un-shelve her Genesis Project to make New Vulcan,” he rambles. He’s feeling weird and floaty, with all the previous anchoring he’d managed to get when he was focused with Spock before gone, but that’s all right, because if anyone’s okay with him being an utter weirdo and is safe and can make sense of his nonsense it’s these two.

        Boyce tells him, “Breathe,” and that’s right, even whatever weird species he is needs oxygen. “You’re a bastard for preempting my good news conversation, but we’ll have a walk-through of the ritual later,” he adds, and at least that has Jim smiling now. He’ll be okay, because these two can make anything okay. It’s kind of their superpower.

        “Pretty sure I can make that happen,” Pike says, sounding distracted as he’s already sending off messages, and yeah the more they interact the more similarities he spots. Which if he has to share any likeness with anyone, he’s happy it’s Pike.

        He feels kinda bad about all these life-changing shifts he keeps throwing into the life of his favorite Admiral, though. “I figured. I just...sorry for it being Marcus…”

        “He’s been acting different since before I recruited you. I think trying to keep me out of it so I didn’t discover any of the less-than-savory things he was doing.  Probably good practice on his part, since I’d have reported him if he tried to give me an unlawful order pretty quickly,” Pike responds quickly. It’s not just deflection—yeah, he’d liked the guy, but had been trusting him less and less over the last, what, five, seven years? He’s definitely feeling hurt and betrayed, but less surprised. Not that Jim could actually feel any of that over the comms, but that’s the exact kind of thing Jim himself would say if he’d been betrayed like that. “Would it make you feel better to be involved?” he adds, almost so off-handed that Jim doesn’t catch it immediately.

        He considers rather than answering immediately, mostly because Pike and Boyce are gonna frown at him if he doesn’t. As much as he wants to put lightyears between himself and this, that isn’t the right decision and he knows it. “I have to talk to her in person, because she needs to know this kid isn’t gonna be normal and sooner or later they’re gonna notice the hacking if they haven’t already. I…” He swallows, only letting himself be vulnerable because it’s safe to do that here. “I wanna be there for the kid, like my dad wasn’t able to do for me, but I’m pretty sure Carol doesn’t want that, and as much as that hurts, I respect it. She wouldn’t have even gotten me involved if she wasn’t out of options.”

        “It’ll maybe play our hand a bit, but that’s the plan in a nutshell anyway, making a big show of all of this. The Kelvin Baby serving as backup gets the front-page headlines, which is what we need right now.” Jim makes a face and it’s his only consolation that from a similar grimace Pike is equally as unhappy with the nickname. “I’d had my own surprise news to share, so you preempted us both.”

        Kirk’s finally starting to feel just that little bit better, to his own surprise. He actually laughs shortly. “Hey, if I’m the only one with bad news here, you’re going to make me feel a little bad.”

        “Too bad,” Pike responds with absolutely no sympathy, which makes him relax just that little much more. “Congratulations, by the way. Of course, the timing couldn’t be worse now, but it’s probably the only chance you’ll have for a good long while. You’re picking up a passenger from Vega colony.”

        Oh. Oh crap. Okay. “Bones, huh,” he responds, beginning to feel a little floaty again.

        “I really wouldn’t call him that immediately,” Boyce advises, trying not to grin.

        Whining doesn’t really befit a starship Captain no matter how much he feels like it. “You two didn’t just...assign him to the Enterprise, did you?” He wouldn’t put it past them.

        Boyce apparently hadn’t known about Pike plotting (they do seem to like to keep each other on their toes, huh) but he doesn’t seem too surprised, either. “I did hear through the gossip grapevine that he’s been complaining much more than his usual. As much as I hear he grumbles about danger, in my professional opinion, he’s bored, and he’s right to be. His talent’s wasted somewhere like that. McCoy’s the type of doctor who likes being at the cutting edge of medicine and he’s probably barely even getting journals out there. Sounds like he mentioned his grievances one time too many to someone with the actual ability to have him reassigned.”

        “I didn’t have him assigned to the Enterprise directly. You’re going to have to wine and dine him, Jim.” Kirk would be a lot more with the whole ‘finding this amusing’ program like Pike is if he wasn’t busy panicking. “Instead, in the hopes it’d shut him up, he’s getting a tour of different places he might like to serve with the understanding he’s going to choose one of them, and you were going to be assigned to shuttling him. I can just add the Genesis Project as just one more stop in the tour.” They’re all hoping he chooses to stay, but voicing that out loud feels a little too much like tempting fate.

        “I’m kinda scared my crew is gonna come on too strong,” Kirk admits. He’s less worried about himself—okay, yeah, he’s going to be a bundle of nerves for this whole thing, but he can manage to get things like the science journals on a padd for the guy, and he has to imagine actually having an onboard chef might appeal, and in the other universe something had to have appealed to the guy enough to stay, but Jim really, really wants this to work.

        “Sounds like that’s a conversation you should be having with them,” Pike states firmly, and yeah. He’s got a point. That doesn’t make it any easier. “Is there anything else you need?”

        From anyone else, it’d be a dismissal, but thanks to long years of acquaintance he knows it’s absolutely genuine.

        It’s actually easy to just go ahead and be honest. “A painkiller and a nice long nap, but Spock took me off the roster, unofficially on account of being ‘emotionally compromised’.”

        Pike just shakes his head, mock sternly, even though he’s probably laughing on the inside. Boyce doesn’t even bother pretending.

        Vaguely directing the conspiracy can wait until after he’s had both. By then, they’ll have probably official orders, and he’ll feel slightly more ready to tackle the entire mess.

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         Boyce and Pike work fast when they’re motivated, but then, he’d known that. By the point he wakes up from his nap, stretching and yawning, there’s an official order and communique on his padd about picking up Bones and staying on standby for helping out with the Genesis Project, respectively. He throws on the uniform and makes his way to the command deck, shaking his head at the fact that absolutely all of the conversation falls silent at the second their engineer-on-deck (they’d figured it helped to have somebody on the bridge to fix any damage, rather than having to come from Engineering, after the last time everything was on fire) Geizen calls out, “Captain on the bridge.”

         Spock gets up from the chair, and Kirk’s about to protest that he’s not actually taking the conn or on duty, he’s just up here to debrief them all, until he notices that his First Officer is actually wandering around with what is probably a bug-checker, so he swallows that down instead.

         “Real subtle, all of you,” he tells them, mock disappointed. Absolutely none of them seem intimidated, which is fair, given that he’s not actually trying too hard. “Just figured the gossip club might want a little actual answers for once.”

         “Where’s the fun in that, Captain?” Uhura teases him, and god seriously these are his crew and he wouldn’t change any of it for the world.

         “Change of pace, mostly?” he suggests, which makes her laugh, so that’s something. Spock nods at him and returns to the chair, so it seems like he’s good to go. “By now you’ve seen the new orders. We’re picking up Doctor McCoy from Vega Colony. Not sure if they told you this, too, but we’re on call for backing up the Genesis Project.”

         “That’s the doctor that served on the Enterprise before. The one whose eyes and hands you were writing poetry about?” Scotty realizes from the screen he’s watching from, because Uhura figured he didn’t want to repeat any of this and patched him in without even being asked, and hell he knew he’d let his guard down too much at that party.

         Well, okay, this wasn’t where he was planning on going first, originally, but if that’s the way they wanna play it, he’ll play along. “Don’t scare him off. I mean it.” He gives each of them a good stare. Only Chekov doesn’t pretend to be innocent, mostly only because he actually manages it.

         Spock meets his eyes with a mild look, adding an eyebrow for good measure.

         “I’m not too worried about you, Spock. This is a general announcement and I expect all of you to pass the word on where it counts. I don’t want to mess this up, and we could pretty easily if any of us come on too strong.” They can be a...kind of intense bunch. “We definitely need to not come off like a cult or something, so be friendly, but don’t assume he’s just going to stay with us. Let him come to his own conclusions.”

         “We don’t want to make it harder, Keptin,” Chekov agrees with the same enthusiasm he does everything, and even Geizen nods along.

         “If he does stay, were you thinking of replacing me?” M’benga asks.

         Kirk swallows and nods. “Ultimately, yeah. Much as I’ve really enjoyed serving with you. I figured if he’s cool with staying on you might want to actually help out with the Genesis Project. From what I’ve read, they’ve got the actual ‘making the planet’ part down right, but they’re still working on introducing life afterward. If not, I was thinking Chapel.”

         The doctor just nods like it’s the answer he’d been expecting. Kirk’s feeling just a little too overwhelmed to bother being upset if that was a test or something. “She’ll need logistics backup if you need to go that route.  It’s the only reason she hasn’t bothered with getting full training.  Technically she doesn’t even need it; nurses can hold the CMO position, but the admiralty will probably insist on an actual doctor getting assigned to the position.”

         Kirk nods, filing that away.  She just might be able to pull it off with Featherby’s help, for instance.

         Okay, time for the harder stuff. “As for the Genesis Project, couple things you should all know. Section 31 exists; they’re, as Carol Marcus just put it, black ops, so the kind of things the Federation can’t openly acknowledge. They were probably wanting to repurpose it to wipe out whole planets after she’d gotten a few of the other projects done.” It’s the only thing he can think they’d use it for, and he sees the same horror and determination in their eyes, too. Still, he has to give them the choice. “This is probably more dangerous than anything we’ve ever done before. And given their rep I think there’s a pretty good chance we’re going to have to brush up on our academy work on what to do with an unlawful order we’re issued. You don’t need me to tell you that the Federation has been changing lately, but as Captain I’m in on information you don’t get to see, and it’s worse than you know.  We’ve been prioritizing our military and weapons because we’ve become afraid and feel like we need to defend ourselves, and there’s every chance that our decisions might be seen differently in front of a military tribunal. So if any of you want out, I get it.”

         “More dangerous than Nero?” The navigator, Velasco, sounds incredulous, but takes a deep breath when Kirk just meets all of their eyes seriously.

         “I signed up to do some good in the world. I’d rather get in trouble doing the right thing than get a pat on the back for doing the wrong thing,” Geizen tells him honestly. Not fearlessly; she’s definitely got some fear in her eyes, but bravely. They all follow suit, even Velasco, who’s still probably the most nervous.

         “I will make a thorough study of relevant case law and precedent, as it seems prudent to do so,” Spock suggests.

         Kirk closes his eyes, thinking through the relevant personnel on board. It’s not quite his field, so having an extra hand will help tremendously. “Good idea.  Get T’Rusi to help you; she’s more familiar with Vulcan law, but has branched out, after circumstances inspired her to sign up for Starfleet.” They all valiantly ignore the why. It’s not like he really needs to say it out loud. “And Raju could probably help.  He focused a little more on the historical and cultural side of things, if I’m remembering his thesis correctly, but his insights are probably going to be invaluable."

         Spock nods, probably already sending off the relevant messages as he continues to listen.

         “We’ve set this up to try to protect Carol Marcus, the director of the project, from her father, who apparently runs Section 31.” There’s no real good way to put this delicately, but at least everyone here knows about him and his heritage. “Turns out I drunkenly slept with her in the Academy and we’ve got a kid.”

         Chekov, adorably, is scrunching up his face like he’s trying to figure out who the ‘bad guy’ is in that escapade and why it isn’t Kirk.

         He might as well clear that up. “It’s a mistake we both made, but if she’s happy with the kid that’s fine. I do need to warn her about...cambion stuff.”

         “Sounds like you have your hands full,” Sulu remarks.

         Spock quickly follows that up with “We will, of course, assist in any way we can.”

         He smiles. “Thanks, all of you.” Time for him to head back to his room and maybe start getting ready for their pickup. “As you were.”

Chapter Text

        McCoy’s mouth has gotten him plenty of places he hadn’t really planned on being (divorced, for one in a very long line), so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised when it happens again. No one with any sense listens to any of his grousing in the first place. He does it like most men breathe, but not everyone knows that about him, particularly ones he doesn’t talk to often enough for them to have a fix on how he operates. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, but he’s taken aback anyway. He’d say he’d finally started to get settled only to have the good ground snatched under him again, but that would absolutely be a lie.

        Oh, he’s managed to manufacture some probably pretty convincing facsimile, but it’s all hollow. He hadn’t bothered to unpack, still, and it’s been years. The walls of his apartment are almost completely barren, not that he’d spent too much time there in the first place. The best he’d managed to form is a routine. He’d formed superficial connections with his community, but he can’t recall the last honest conversation he’d had with a person, and while they are sorry to see him go, on the grounds of someone else having to pick up all the shifts now, they’re not pretending to wail in the streets or rend their clothes or whatever signs of actual sorrow might be popular these days.

        Instead, they spend most of their time gossiping about his new fancy ride coming in a week. Manufactured shortly before the Romulan attack that destroyed Vulcan, supposedly, with all the latest bells and whistles and shiny lights. The personnel are all heroes and practically deities, from the way his staff with nothing better to do whisper about them—a bunch of cadets that managed to escape Earth and the Federation in one fell swoop. Promoted sooner than they should’ve been, if you ask McCoy, not that anyone does. And then they start making a fuss about the whole crew, but particularly the Captain. He’s single, he’s extraordinarily handsome, Leonard is still single, but for that matter the entire command staff is good-looking, like there’s something about being ‘Fleet that makes you special (which gets uncomfortably close to old thoughts about eugenics, for McCoy’s taste, and anyway it’s probably a recruiting tactic to get other young fools to sign up, ignoring he’d done the same; at least he’d done it since he’d had no other choice, rather than for glory or thinking with his gonads). He insists they stay professional at least while he’s here, but they only stop talking about it in his line of sight. He can still hear them giggling in the other room right up until he leaves, and one of them even has the audacity to ask if he’d get an autograph or five.

        He self-medicates with a flask he’d filled with the last of one of his bottles and expects a disapproving stare from the shuttle pilot that comes to get him, like what he’d experienced when he’d first joined up. His expectations are again completely thwarted, because that’s far from what happens; the man is friendly, nonjudgmental, and awfully interested in McCoy, more than makes sense. It’s not like a doctor is a dying breed. He doesn’t understand what’s so interesting about him.

        It maybe starts to make a little more sense when he finally lands and the legendary Captain Kirk’s waiting to greet him personally, dressed up like he’s meeting royalty. He begins to suspect that the orders included some kind of preferential treatment, something to try to entice him to take a starship assignment or at the very least not entertain thoughts of leaving Starfleet. And at least some of the stories were correct, anyhow. The blond’s far younger than a starship captain should be, practically glowing in the outfit, and far too pretty for his own good. Having a holovid star’s looks probably does wonders for their recruitment, like he’d suspected.

        “I might throw up on you if you get too close,” Leonard warns, trying to steady himself coming out of the shuttle, and the fabled James T. Kirk just smiles at him like the pronouncement is charming, relaxing a little in the process.

        “Go ahead. It gives me an excuse to set fire to this thing, and then I’m free until the next time they can throw together a choking collar and incredibly uncomfortable fabric,” he suggests impishly, like they’re already old friends and McCoy’s already signed up for all kinds of tomfoolery. For whatever reason he actually looks a little surprised when their eyes meet, but shrugs that off quickly.

        McCoy’s baleful glare doesn’t make a dent in the man’s smile, either. “If you hate wearing it, then why the hell did you bother dressing up for me? I’m just an old country doctor.”

        “Not that old,” the Captain counters; he’s being discreet but he’s probably already started checking McCoy out. The stories of his sexual exploits, truthfully, might be far more accurate than the ones about his heroics. “Let me know when you’re feeling a little less nauseous. You’re probably going to be on the Enterprise for at least a couple weeks; you should get to know her.” The pride in his voice is at least a little more stereotypically Captain-like than the rest of it.

        Leonard nods and focuses on breathing, willing the nausea to pass. He’d rather just go to whatever cabin’s been designated his own and preferably sleep the entire experience of space away, but that’s highly impractical and Kirk’s plan has some merit. Something about the setup seems...familiar, somehow, but that makes no goddamn sense. Probably just half-remembered memories of the last time he'd had to take one of these godforsaken rides, rearranged by drink. He feels a mite less settled when he realizes the technicians in the shuttle bay are staring, too, though they quickly busy themselves when he glances in their direction. Surely they aren’t so starved for entertainment as all that, here up chasing danger and death. Why, there’s over four hundred personnel serving aboard this ship. You could probably serve your entire posting here without meeting each and every single one of them. A new face shouldn’t be as interesting as all that.

        And yet, they’re all doing it, every single crewmember they pass, once Leonard’s feeling stable enough to take the tour. Some of them try to talk, too, and it’s hard to decide whether he prefers this or the silent watching. Briefly he wonders if it’s the novelty of Kirk actually coming down from his lofty station to visit the lowly peons, but quickly discards that notion. Between the way the man actually addresses everyone they pass by name before spouting off yet another fact Leonard has no inclination to remember (thanks to the booze and lingering panic attack, his head’s throbbing) and the fact that enough of the stares seem focused on McCoy specifically, a pattern starts to form. Most of them are trying not to be too blatant about it, but most beings of any kind tend to overestimate how subtle their actions are. They’re all friendly enough, but it’s getting to be downright uncanny.

        He does have to admit, too, that it’s not just the good looks. Kirk is one of those folks that’s genuinely charismatic, with the kind of intense, compassionate focus that says nothing in his world is as interesting as talking to and learning about the person he’s talking to. Leonard had started to get highly uncomfortable about that, too, until they’re stopped by a crewman, and Kirk apologizes and then turns that same laser focus on dealing with whatever complex interpersonal problem the man’s facing (well, it’s not too complex, probably, but McCoy might be having a few problems following along, at present). Having that kind of attention aimed in your direction on a regular basis could get addicting quick, but it’s also not just McCoy.

        So he meets the overly enthusiastic Scotty, and also learns where he might find an illicit source of alcohol, if he feels like traveling back in time to the days of Prohibition (Kirk looks a little stern and disappointed, for once, but all he says is “make sure you’re not making anything lethal this time, Scotty”). Which makes McCoy, in turn, wonder how much experience the engineer has had, making bathtub alcohol. The chef (an actual chef named Schaefer that suggests Kirk might be as idiosyncratic as McCoy is) is more than happy to cater to a Southern palette. The garden only confirms that hypothesis, and also confirms that he’s not the only idiosyncratic one on this crazy ship, since his helmsman (Sulu) is just sitting there contentedly maintaining it (and also McCoy has to be warned away from one of the plants which is apparently carnivorous and there’s just a rapier sitting there leaning up against the wall, like that might be necessary). Most of his chief officers appear to be off duty in the rec room, and he is actually kind of astounded to see a hobgoblin—er, Vulcan named Spock—playing an instrument with Uhura (the comms officer) singing along. When they finish, the kid (they’re all young, but Chekov is practically an infant) starts telling everyone in hearing the song is Russian in origin even though that makes absolutely no sense. Most just ignore him, in a friendly way, which suggests Chekov makes a habit of this. At least they’re a little too caught up in their own bullshit to worry about watching Leonard too closely. He’s putting faces to all the gossip, and, well. They’re larger than life, he’ll say that much.

        Kirk seems a mite defensive, but he’s also doggedly refusing to be embarrassed by any of it. That’s the kind of attitude Leonard can grudgingly respect. It’s not as if the man’s utterly incapable of nervousness, at least, though he’s extremely discreet about it, occasionally fidgeting when he thinks McCoy’s not looking. And there are certainly points he should be ashamed and just isn’t, like the point he says something flirtatious to a woman in front of her partner in the mess hall, particularly since the woman flirts right back. Chandra doesn’t make a fuss and doesn’t seem upset about the whole thing, but McCoy can’t quite tell if that just means no one thinks they can push back against the Captain. He resolves to keep an eye on that. He also takes note that Kirk is the only one that bothered to dress up.

        The food is great, and Schaefer must have learned that, at least, from a bonafide Southern cook (it’s unlikely she’d actually lived in the South, due to the lack of accent), which has Kirk grinning that grin again. Leonard’s appetite had come back a smidge, apparently, and all the walking had actually been good for his actually metabolizing the contents of that flask.

        Afterwards, they head up to the command deck to briefly make the acquaintance of the likes of Bailey and Haas. By this point, it’s unsurprising that Kirk knows each of them on sight. Despite the nerves from sitting this close to glass being the only thing between him and an agonizing death, he has to admit it’s a pretty view.

        “I saved the best for last,” Kirk tells him, and very briefly McCoy wonders, because it’s clear that the man loves the bustle of the corridors and the power of the command deck and the peace (however odd) of the garden, but then he walks Leonard into what is probably one of the most obviously well-funded medical facilities McCoy has had the privilege of visiting. He can look smug all he wants; he’s actually earned this one. McCoy probably makes a nuisance of himself asking questions and poking around, but he tries not to actively get in the way of the treatment of actual patients, though, thankfully, for the moment it seems to be more in the way of actual physicals and treating chronic conditions than any of the danger Leonard had been concerned about. Even the doctors aren’t above getting their hands dirty and drawing blood or taking temperatures, rather than being lazy and leaving everything to the nurses, and they’re doing it without overstepping their bounds or making the nurses feel inadequate, either.

Chapter Text

        Leonard’s feeling restless. Far as he’s concerned, that’s nothing new, closer to an old friend than any actual flesh-and-blood human being, but here it’s almost unbearable. Thoughts chase themselves in circles, the too-pretty-for-his-own-good Captain, the state of the art medical facilities, the prospect of getting to identify and treat all new and unknown diseases...and equally, the dangers of only having a sheet of metal between himself and oblivion, the fact that he’d have to put up with shuttles or a transporter anytime he wanted to get off this goddamn ship, the fact that after last time his heart really should know damn well better. With a growl, he finally gets up. Sometimes an early morning jog had been enough to help. It’ll all be metal corridors, but at least they’re pretty metal corridors, and during what any sane person calls ‘nighttime’ and these ‘Fleet fools call ‘gamma shift’ they do at least turn down the glaring brightness of the lights. He passes a few crewmembers in the halls, who respectfully acknowledge his presence but don’t try to jaw his ear off like his first introductions and don’t seem to be staring quite as much. A blessing, really, since he’s barely sociable at the best of times.

        He’s starting to get utterly lost and is trying to decide how he feels about that and biting down his pride to ask for directions when he hears music coming from what he vaguely recognizes as one of the rec rooms he’d been shown on the earlier tour. Not something that would usually draw his attention, other than the fact that the music is utterly ancient. Twenty-first and sometimes twentieth century, even. He figures anyone up at this hour can’t complain about the company and lets his curiosity carry him into the room.

        Only to be confronted with the brat-turned-Captain his fool heart’s been trying to get him to moon over and fall into the trap, again, of becoming overly attached to someone who doesn’t care the same. He nearly ducks out and leaves, but something about the image of the man alternately reading his padd and staring wistfully out the glass of...what was it called again, the observation gallery, maybe, doesn’t let him.

        “Captain?” he asks, and the man whisks the glasses off fast enough it’d be a wonder if he didn’t break them. “Didn’t mean to intrude,” he adds gruffly, feeling a little unaccountably guilty for intruding and trying to ignore the fact that for a grown starship Captain the man being flustered is actually vaguely adorable.

        “I, um.” He rallies fairly swiftly. “It’s fine. I just didn’t expect you to be the kind of guy to want to take walks during gamma shift. Much less near the windows where you can see…” Kirk waves vaguely at the windows with a view of space.

        “Right back atcha, Captain,” Leonard drawls. “Don’t you usually have, what do they call it, alpha shift?”

        Kirk shrugs, a little helplessly. “Couldn’t sleep. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

        Leonard contemplates that in the mostly comfortable silence. He’d stubborn, sure, but he’s not above admitting when he’s been wrong. He’d taken the rumors at face value and hadn’t bothered to look deeper. The obvious point where he’d come aboard and Kirk had been obviously trying to make a good impression had, as far as he’d been concerned, just proved everything that was said about the man. But here, his walls were down. He wasn’t putting on a show, caught off guard like this. “Don’t suppose you’d want to talk about it?”

        All right, McCoy will be the first to admit it’s shocking, how quickly he’d changed his mind, but Kirk doesn’t have to look quite that incredulous. “I...didn’t think you’d care. It’s not like you’re my doc,” Kirk admits, quiet and vulnerable, and that’s true for the both of them. Not like he’s going to voice that out loud.

        That stings. “Dammit, man, I’m a doctor. Caring’s what I do, even when it’s a damn foolhardy thing to do.”

        For whatever reason, that prompts a genuine laugh, and damnably the man’s just that much prettier like this. “Didn’t mean to hurt your sense of professional pride.” The pause, this time, seems to be a little more about gathering his thoughts than a dismissal. Weighing how honest to be, maybe. He really is exhausted, and by the looks of it that’s all catching up to him all at once. “Sorry if this is too personal, Doctor, but...you don’t get to see your kid much, huh? How do you deal with it?”

        Damn it all to hell. That hits close to home, and he doesn’t even have to ask to know why the kid wants to know, vulnerable blue eyes a step away from the hurt. “Badly,” he answers, the most honest he’s been in years. “I’m guessin’ something from your past caught up with you.”

        That apparently offends a sense of pride he hadn’t been aware Kirk even had. “I do my best to be responsible. I don’t take advantage of my position, and I try to make sure not to leave anybody with anything other than memories of a good time.” He chuckles humorlessly, a little lost, a little broken. “Just takes one time of being too drunk to take precautions, I guess.”

        If he’s telling the truth, he’s a flirt but doesn’t go much further. McCoy will still report his attractive behind if he gets the slightest whiff it’s a lie.

        “That is how it works, yeah,” Leonard responds dryly, but Kirk thankfully doesn’t take offense. If anything, he seems to find the blunt sarcasm reassuring, not grating. Which, in turn, is a reaction McCoy hasn’t dealt with in years. Encouraged, he adds, “So I guess that means you know you deal with it by stargazin’, readin’ scientific journals, and wearin’ glasses.”

        The younger man flushes a pretty pink. “I don’t…technically have to wear them, but it gets worse at night and when I read, and, well…” He gestures at the padd. “I do get a little strain and a headache, and seeing as I have one already and Boyce would probably be on my ass if I don’t at least try to take care of myself, I try to remember.” After a pause, he adds, “I’m allergic to Retinax V. Along with half of everything else, it feels like.” There he goes just droppin’ the name of one of the best doctors currently living like it’s no big deal while simultaneously acting like allergies are a personal failing he should feel ashamed about.

        He’s really self-conscious about the glasses, and Leonard’s tired enough that he finds himself saying, “I wouldn’t worry too much on account of them makin’ you look more handsome,” before he means to. Not that he’d really intended to say anything at all.

        They stare at each other in a moment of flustered silence. McCoy refuses to run. It’d only make him look worse. The slow, pleased smile isn’t the worst reaction he could’ve had, but it isn’t the ideal McCoy had been aiming for, either (which probably would’ve been the man not hearing the remark in the first place).

        “That makes me feel a little better, yeah. Thanks.” He shrugs, glancing back at the stars, before looking back, somehow unfairly more energized than he’d been. “I’ve already re-read your papers and Dr. Marcus’, so I figured I’d catch up on some of Dr. Adam’s work. Not that we’re probably heading there, unless you want to, but…” he trails off.

        “Figured some dry reading would put you to sleep?” Leonard guesses, trying not to feel overly pleased that this enigmatic Captain would actually choose to re-read(!) any of Leonard’s work.

        Kirk’s still smiling like this is some kind of joke they’re both sharing. “Reports are boring. The advancement of science is interesting,” he insists, like this is a perfectly normal statement that anyone might agree with, and with the enthusiasm he’s just warming to the theme. “Besides, more humane treatment of criminals is great. Have you read about some of the for-profit prisons they had back in the olden days? Our ancestors might’ve had some cool cultural things, like the music,” he waves vaguely at the gadget it’s playing from, “...but man was some of it barbaric.”

        “Not sure this ain’t.” Leonard finally decides to sit, because Kirk looks intrigued and it’s been a good long while since he’s had the chance to give a lecture. Not that he’d ever wanted to be a teacher in charge of a flock of snot-nosed brats, but rather than the slacker kid that won’t sit through the lecture, Kirk actually looks glued to his seat. “Some of the treatments he’s been recommending lately reek of mind control.”

        Kirk actually looks intrigued and thoughtful. “Okay, you’re going to have to explain that one. How’s it at all different from the way they used to use hypnosis, for example to treat addictions?”

        He finds his blood racing. He hasn’t had anyone who dared argue back in years, he realizes. It’s always been ‘yes, Doctor’. “Keep in mind it’s not like I specialized in psychiatry,” he starts, but that doesn’t even seem to phase the Captain, who seems actually genuinely interested in what McCoy has to say, actually leaning in to listen. “Well, way I see it, there’s a difference between working with the patient to induce aversions and forcing it on them…”

Chapter Text

        McCoy’s trying hard not to pull at his collar as he makes a beeline for the Captain. Who, he has to admit, cleans up nicely. His nana always told him to share, and he had no problem sharing his discomfort with the man responsible for it in the first place. “If I had known I was going to be forced to wear a dress uniform so soon, I would’ve left Starfleet altogether.”

        Kirk grins, cheeky as ever. “Hey, I still say you should’ve thrown up on mine so you could burn it. If you’d thought ahead and been wearing yours when you came aboard, you could’ve taken them both out at the same time. Been more efficient that way.”

        McCoy bites down his reply along with sudden memories of Joanna. Sure, a baby could take care of that little problem right quick, but while Kirk had never even met his kid, the wound was still a little too fresh to go poking it out of some misguided impulse for misery to have company. Some of that must show on his face, because Kirk’s expression turns a little quizzical. Like hell is he going to speak what’s on his mind—this once, at any rate. Yeah, he can hold his tongue, every so often. “I’m afraid I just don’t remember what the occasion was in the first place, on account of the hangover.”

        It’s clear from the searching glance that Kirk notices the clumsy attempt to change the subject, but diplomatically refrains from calling attention to it. “We picked up the scientific delegation to help out with the Genesis Project.”

        He’s ready to smoothly continue and explain naturally if it rings no bells, to try not to embarrass McCoy for not knowing, but it’s been so long since Leonard’s gotten to voice his opinion on the latest science he can’t help but try anyway, even if he ends up looking like a fool to do so. “You mean that tomfool project playing God?”

        He might have ended up being a little too loud. Maybe it’s a bit human-centric of him, but he’s still reading those Vulcan glances as irritated anyhow. He doesn’t need an interpreter to read that Kirk’s glance is a little colder. “I know some who would say the same thing about doctors, Leonard.”

        Let no one say Kirk’s not quick on his feet. Or sharp. Not that McCoy’s tabling the discussion entirely. The inherent dangers present in the ability to just wave a hand and replace any planetary life is too pressing to just let it go unaddressed forever.

        “Point taken.” Too bad there’s no food—or drink. He could use the distraction, or something to do with his hands. But maybe he won’t say something else idiotic if he gets Kirk talking, and he recognizes that look from their little late-night talk. “You’ve got a speech waiting, don’t you?”

        Kirk coughs, looking away. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a speech…” He tries not to look too defensive or pouty, but doesn’t quite pull it off. He does, however, look unfairly attractive that way. “It’s just…” He lowers his voice, even though McCoy has to guess that Vulcan hearing is pretty impressive—unless those ears are just for show. Maybe it’s to allow them to hear without having to feel the need to respond? Would that even matter? It’s not like he’s a Vulcan culture expert. “The Vulcans have lost a lot. I don’t know how much you heard, how deeply you thought about it, but they lost their planet. It’s not just any old planet to them. It was their home. We nearly lost Earth, and I definitely thought about that. Sure, we’ve got colonies. We could rebuild. But we’d have lost the Statue of Liberty, and the Eiffel Tower, and the pyramids, and the Globe Theater, and the Great Wall of China. People’s homes, their livelihoods. That little restaurant you discovered a week ago, the best garden, the corner library, your favorite museum. Any literature or art that hasn’t been preserved off-world. Holy lands, like Jerusalem and Tibet and Ayers Rock. The places our musicians and poets, scientists and activists lived and worked and died. There aren’t words to cover that loss, but imagining that for Earth...yeah, we grieve with them. Starfleet grieves with them. This shook all of us. This can’t give them back a fraction of what they lost, but it is the faintest glimmer of hope.”

        “Hope is illogical, Captain.” Kirk turns with a smile like this is some sort of in-joke, and to McCoy’s complete and utter astonishment that might actually be a smile on the old Vulcan’s face, too. “And yet you are not wholly incorrect. It is a heavy loss. A new planet will not replace the old, but the project of shaping the future path we take is a worthy one.”

        “A good distraction, huh.” He’s still smiling.

        The Vulcan nods. “Put in human terms, you may see it that way.”

        McCoy bristles at the insult. Kirk doesn’t even flinch. Either he has nerves of steel, or that wasn’t actually meant as an insult. He just moves smoothly on to introductions. “Doctor Leonard McCoy, this is Ambassador—wait, no. You’re not an Ambassador anymore, are you? It’s, uh...no, wait, I’ve got this one….” He’s not joking now. He actually does look fairly embarrassed.

        “I attained the rank of Captain before my retirement, should you wish to use a title. Otherwise, yes, I am no longer an Ambassador, merely an old Vulcan.” At least he’s not using an excuse to snidely poke at this Captain.

        “You’d prefer I wouldn’t use the title, I’d guess. Doctor, this is Spock.” McCoy waits a beat to see if he’s being messed with, but both Kirk and the Vulcan remain serious.

        “I have read your papers on novel surgical procedures and vaccination development with great interest,” Spock assures him, and McCoy eyes them both, still not entirely sure they’re not pulling some kind of massive prank.

        “Does anyone do anything other than read scientific journals for fun around here?” he asks loudly, and there’s a lot of glances exchanged, not just between this old Vulcan and the Captain.

        “We get the newest stuff to your padd, actually,” Kirk responds cheerfully, not even flinching at McCoy’s suspicious stare. “Boyce recommended it,” he adds. He really is just acting like being on speaking terms with one of the best doctors out there is no big deal.

        Unable to cope with the fond, blue-eyed look, McCoy turns back to the Vulcan. “I didn’t think Vulcans reused names like that.”

        “Under ordinary circumstances, you would be correct. These are not ordinary times.” It’s a non sequitur and this...Spock...knows it. Both he and Kirk’s First Officer would have to have been born long before any of this business with Vulcan. But McCoy’s starting to get a headache, again, so hashing this out doesn’t seem quite as urgent as it otherwise might.

        Like an answer to prayers he didn’t know he was even voicing, though, they’re interrupted. Just another one of the Vulcan delegation, he’d guess, if not for the Starfleet uniform. “Captain, a message from Starfleet Command. A potential candidate world has been selected for testing for Project Genesis.”

        Kirk frowns. You think he’d be happy about learning it’s going smoothly. “That seems awfully quick. I didn’t think they were even done with the preliminary tech stuff yet, let alone on stage three. Do we have the data on the world they selected?”

        “I anticipated your request, Captain,” she responds, and hands over a padd.

        Kirk frowns a little, but nods at his subordinate anyway. “Thanks, T’Roth. I’ll put in a good word for your efficiency and attention to detail.” Squints to try to read it—damn his foolish pride, he really does need those glasses, and looks damn good in them besides—and then the padd crashes to the floor from nerveless fingers.

        “Jim. What’s wrong?” Spock asks urgently, discarding any pretense that they hadn’t met and were friends.

        He’s started hyperventilating, blue eyes swimming with tears. “Spock, it’s...the planet they chose. It’s Ceti Alpha V. You have to talk to them, convince them it’s not safe…”

        It’s not a planet McCoy has heard of before, but Spock evidently has. He bottles up all that worry like he hadn’t even felt it in the first place. “I will endeavor to do so. And Captain?” He...really does smile. “I would recommend you wear your glasses in the future.” And then he leaves, without even waiting for a reply.

        At least that gets Kirk to steady his breathing. “I...sorry about the emotional display, T’Roth, but this is really, really important. Did this happen to have anything about where this order came from?”

        “I did not ask, but I can endeavor to find out,” she responds levelly, probably judging him every which way, and moves away at a fast pace, but not running. That would be an emotional display, and Vulcans clearly don’t do those.

        “Is anyone going to tell me what the hell’s going on around here?” Because unlike Kirk he’s not able to just casually pretend they’re all obviously in on something that goes far beyond just a plot to get him to sign on to serving on a spaceship.

        “Ask again later,” Kirk advises, shivering but managing to stay standing.

        Panic attack, probably. Which is steadying in a way he doesn’t particularly want to look at too close. A patient that needs him? Forget his own crises. “Easy, Captain. I might not know the specifics but what I do know is that you’ve had a shock.”

        Kirk laughs breathlessly. “That’s one way to put it, I guess.” But either he’s gotten really good at dealing with panic attacks over the years (which is...kind of worrying, even though he isn’t, in fact, Kirk’s doctor) or he’s still having the panic attack but choosing to ignore it because he has something else to do (which isn’t too healthy and McCoy freely admits it’s hypocritical of him to say that). It’s fascinating to learn that for all intense the man was, McCoy still hadn’t seen everything to him. Sure, he was capable of slow, but that’s not his normal operating procedure. No, he’s usually operating at warp speed, and that’s on the outside. McCoy has a feeling his brain if anything is faster. “Okay, I’ve got some comms to make, myself, and anyway I’m pretty sure I would suck at explaining any of this right now. And also I’m pretty sure we all suck at this and I’m kind of morbidly curious about what would happen if we ever have to do some sort of undercover away mission. If you still wanna know, if you don’t decide you want no part of this, go find Uhura. You can probably find her in the gym, brushing up on her self-defense.” He shrugs when McCoy blinks. “She didn’t want to be the damsel in distress.”

        He takes a deep breath, visibly pulling himself together—it’s kind of fascinating to watch him reconstruct the image of Captain before McCoy’s very eyes—and then smiles, somehow genuine in the face of whatever the hell had just happened. “Pretty much any of the crew should be more than happy to ask for directions, so...dealer’s choice.” And then he’s off, too, though he’s not running either. In that case, though, it might be morale. Can’t have the Captain running around his ship without something big going on, like getting shot at.

        McCoy is not entirely certain that that’s not what’s happening, just in a way that’s not immediately identifiable to someone not on the command staff. But there’s a way he can be certain, if he’s really lost his goddamn mind out of boredom.

        ...If he’s ready to start living, for the first time in years.

        Shit.

Chapter Text

        McCoy didn’t particularly expect to find Uhura punishing a punching bag, but perhaps expectations are a slightly unrealistic thing to have when it comes to the Enterprise. “Nice form.”

        “Thank you.” She doesn’t even pause, and doesn’t sound out of breath. “I assume there’s a reason you came looking for me?”

        This had better not be some sort of test, too. He’d hoped to have left those behind along with his schooling, and he is utterly sick of all of this dancing around something that clearly affects him. “The Captain said I should come to you for answers, and you seem like the sanest one on this crazy ship.”

        She laughs, but finally stops her exercise, more attack than practice, going for the water bottle. “I’m afraid there you’re wrong, Doctor. Welcome to Wonderland.”

        He raises his eyebrows. Why are they all trying to warn him off this? Surely the truth can’t be that out there, and he prefers it to a fancy lie in any case. “I haven’t seen a rabbit wandering around yet.”

        “Wait around long enough and you just might.” She finishes off with a few stretches, turning to him with a smile. Polite, and just as infuriating for the effort. He doesn’t play these kinds of diplomatic games. “So, you’ve been cleared for answers?”

        They all clearly don’t know how stubborn he is. “Yes, and you had better believe I’m not leaving ‘till I get some. Especially if it has anything to do with them all treating me like the Second Coming.”

        “It was probably more curiosity than anything.  We don’t see you as a miracle worker.” She says that, but she still sounds a little amused, and maybe a little gently disapproving, like they’d all been told to behave themselves and hadn't managed it. He fights back the urge to say that their arrogance is showing, like they’re all superior beings who managed to pull off what the rest of the weak mortals dare not dream. In his experience, insulting people doesn’t tend to get you answers. “Sulu won’t mind if we borrow the garden.” So it’s not like it had been an accident that Sulu had been there. While probably not officially, unofficially it was his domain. That probably also means that it probably hadn’t been directly a joke about the clearance, if she’s not wanting to broadcast it all over the ship. She just leaves him to stew in his thoughts as they walk, not even offering up pleasantries or small talk, which is, on one hand, appreciated, because he’s sick of that kind of treatment, and on the other has him slightly concerned about executions.

        “So, now that you’ve got me where you want me, what is this all about?” Her hesitation indicates she’d probably been telling the truth and it’s a story that’s difficult to believe, but it pokes at his already fraying temper. “Come on, spit it out already.”

        “You’re every bit as bad as he is,” she informs him, completely uninterested in actually elaborating who this ‘he’ is, though Leonard gets the feeling that she might be referring to the Captain, before starting by asking him a question. “How much did you hear about the Romulan incident?”

        “The one that got you all medals and all of my staff gossiping like they’d never left medical school? Quite a lot, but I was never too sure how much to believe.” He considers what to add, but gets glared at for the trouble, so elects to stay silent. If he’s going to be blamed for taking his sweet old time, he might as well—

        No. That’s the part of him that gave up talking. The one that said he might as well prove Jocelyn and all the others right about him. So he smiles sweetly, a look that would have his nana rightfully suspicious, and then adds the barest bones, without all the embellishments, he has. Let no one say he’s no contrarian without lying through their teeth. “A single Romulan ship armed with some sorta planet-killer took out Vulcan and damn near took out Earth, and you’re all the heroes who stopped it.”

        She shifts a little, opting for what looks like very careful weeding rather than meeting his eyes. The only way she could be more uncomfortable, he’s pretty sure, is if he’d been completely and utterly genuine in his praise of the returning heroes. “I guess as summaries go, not bad.” She doesn’t let being taken off guard show, but he gets the strange feeling he’s earned a bite of respect, now. Friendly as Uhura seems, she’s a wary one. “How much do you know about the connection between gravity and time distortions?”

        That’s a strange question. “The basics. I’m not a physicist.”

        “What about black holes?” she continues, quiet and unassuming. Like the horse right before it startles and kicks you.

        Just because he hasn’t had to exercise his brain too much of recent doesn’t mean he’s that out of practice. He can make the connection. “The Romulans had a deployable black hole,” horror harshening his voice, and behind that another sudden realization. “You’re meaning to tell me you’re all time travelers?”

        She shakes her head. “No, of course not. None of us are holovid actors, so there’s no way we could act normally and keep that a secret.” She smiles back. She’s good, turning his own tactics against him.

        “That’s what you’re going with?” It would explain...a lot, actually, like for example how none of them were acting the slightest bit normal, but it’s also so fantastical.

        “Well, you’re right that it’s not perfectly accurate. Formerly Ambassador Spock is from the future, as were the Romulans. Kirk shared a mind-meld with the Spock you just met. The rest of us only know about it. But yes, if you ask around the command staff or Pike or Boyce, you’ll get your confirmation.” She pauses and waits, continuing to work in the garden, letting him frown and cross his arms as he thinks about it.

        Only startling slightly as he crouches down to join her. “Been a while since I’ve had my hands in the dirt,” he explains. Most of it is hydroponics, sure, but not all of it, just that extra eccentric touch. Like a piece of home, helping out nana with the farm. It helped him think, and it can help him now. He realizes with a start he hadn’t even thought about the fact he was in space for a bit, a first as far as he can recall. “Kirk and Spock didn’t just know me from my journals, did they?”

        She laughs. “They probably kept up with what you wrote, not just because they like learning things, but because it was a way of keeping up with you, yes. Without writing to you or calling you and scaring you away. Your decrease in publishing did probably worry them.”

        He swallows the urge to say that it wouldn’t, because even this has been so strange and unnerving and there had been the flimsiest pretext for it. If anything having known a different version of him hadn’t given them an advantage, but made them wary, afraid of making a mistake and never getting another chance. No, they’d been right to stay away, but with the way they look at him, he’d been missed, and here they’d never met. “Why me?”

        “A version of you served on the Enterprise before, and they missed you,” she tells him. It’s hard to picture. Well, he thinks that, but he’s lying to himself again, isn’t he? This, all of this, is everything he should hate. Even now, he can recite every way to die in space from memory, because starships are a fool’s enterprise and anyone with even a lick of sense should know that, but...a part of him actually feels at home. No one would mind that he prefers reading hard copy when it comes to textbooks, finds it sticks better in his head. Hell, they might actually prefer an irascible doctor, someone to keep them all in line. Lots of stares, true, but none of them, not even Kirk or Spock, had presumed to know him, not in this universe anyhow. He’d been given space, to settle in. A choice. It’s clear now that Kirk hoped he’d stay, done his best to court his services as a doctor (and maybe more) and then just...left it, as a gentleman should.

        “You’re dancing around the question,” he observes, annoyed. “Kirk. Why’s he hung up on a washed up old country doctor?”

        She lets her own annoyance show on her face for the first time. Given that cool look, she is fully prepared to disembowel him on her captain’s behalf, and he immediately revises his list—Uhura is the most dangerous person on the ship. “I can’t fully blame you for the assumptions. Kirk’s reputation is larger than life, and he had me fooled for a while myself. But the Captain never puts anything less than 110 percent into everything he does, and between you and me, he’s prone to burnout. He even takes his one-night stands seriously. He’s been trying to settle down, and I think whatever he saw of you said you were at least pretty good friends.”

        That...actually makes sense. “Captain Jim Kirk wants to settle down.” Saying it out loud doesn’t make it feel any more real, but looking back at the conversation they’d had, it's true. He’s lonely and desperately wants a connection, so listening to lectures or debating the latest discoveries doesn’t sound too bad to him. “On account of his kid, huh? Shook him up a little.”

        If he wasn’t looking for it, he wouldn’t have spotted the surprise. “He wouldn’t have mentioned that to just anybody.” It occurs to her to add, “...I wouldn’t go spreading it around. The mother almost didn’t tell him.”

        Ouch. And here he thought the divorce had been bad. At least he was allowed to see Joanna in vid calls. Sure, it’s probably on account of trying to stay out of the whole baggage of, as Uhura had put it, Kirk’s reputation, but it still has to sting. “I’m the very picture of discretion,” he promises.

        “And no, it wasn’t just because of that. He’s been trying to clean up his reputation for a little while now, after it started causing problems for his captaincy and the functioning of the Enterprise.” She pauses and then adds, “...he probably didn’t want to influence you too much, but I don’t care about that and you probably deserve to know. M’Benga wants to work with the Vulcans, because that’s where he’d do the most good, but he’s been staying on just because the Admirals have been trying to play politics and assign someone of their choosing to the position, and Kirk would get himself killed not cooperating with a doctor he doesn’t trust.”

        That’s fascinating. So the man had actually done his best to withhold things that might bias him in the direction of staying, and no matter how much Kirk might bluster about how it’s all for Leonard’s own good McCoy is no stranger to that kind of self-sabotage. And that also means that the higher-ups hadn’t been hoping to stick Leonard with a space assignment in punishment. If anything, they’re probably hoping he moves on. Now the talk of teaching makes sense. He’d thought it’d been a ‘if there’s one thing worse’ type of stick to smack him into place, but now he’s starting to get the idea that it’s the exact opposite. They had been hoping he’d take it, maybe so they could reassign Boyce, which just proves they’re even more out of their goddamn minds than he’d previously diagnosed. There’s no way he’s ending up with a bunch of snot-nosed brats to babysit. And sure, Kirk would fight for him, make sure he’d get whatever assignment he chooses, even if it’s not what the man would want, even if it puts his own neck on the line.

        “I’ll keep an open mind,” he promises. She doesn’t look too impressed by that, but it’s better than dropping to his knees and begging to stay. He has to maintain some kind of fragile dignity.

Chapter Text

        Ordinarily, McCoy would be a little more concerned about just contacting one of the Federation’s most famous physicians, but if he’s not being utterly misled, it’s not something unexpected or necessarily out of the blue, so he does just that. Uhura’s perfectly willing to make sure it’s encrypted, too, just so no one gets any proof that any of the ‘Fleet’s finest surgeons have lost their goddamn minds. The pirahnas known as journalists or, sometimes more honestly, tabloid journalists would love to get their hands on something like this. “I have reason to think you’ve been expecting this call,” he drawls, and the man just nods solemnly.

        “I’m sure you have questions, and I’d love to discuss them over a drink, but…” he begins, and Leonard feels himself relaxing slightly.

        “I have a flask I brought with me so we can pretend,” he offers, and that’s an actual smile and approving nod.

        “After the news you got, I do think that’s just as the doctors ordered,” he agrees. He waits patiently for McCoy to figure out his approach, though, rather than starting any conversation himself, and that just proves the idea that this is all still a test, figuring out how he’ll react. Probably putting his dabbling in psychology into effect, too. So sure, talking with him might be dangerous, but on account of the fact that McCoy really isn’t intending to hide anything at this point, not something he really cares about at the moment.

        Might as well start with the big one. “So, time travel, huh?”

        Boyce relaxes a little. “Yes, time travel, and yes, I drank after that little revelation myself. Once I could—I wasn’t operating on Chris at anything less than my best. There was time enough after it was all over and we were limping back to lick our wounds.”

        “Did you personally experience any of it?” Mostly, this is just...confirmation that what Uhura had said isn’t a whole lot of hogswash. He suspects it isn’t, that some of them, including most of the rest of the command crew, was more acting out of curiosity than familiarity, but it’s good to have data confirmed.

        “Not personally, but I believe it without question. I’ve met the older Spock briefly. Unintentional on his part, I think; I’d passed him on his way to his ship to Vulcan, and stopped him to tell him I was sorry for the loss, only to realize that something about his demeanor was familiar. He didn’t outright confirm it—that was Jim—but he did ask about then-Captain Pike. Tried to tell me it was just a polite inquiry, like that would do him any good, and then seemed alternatively alarmed and relieved when he learned that Chris could have been confined to a wheelchair but miraculously healed.” He seems content with this half-story, even though the curiosity must be nagging at him a little.

        “This Spock didn’t even try to hide his emotions?” That’s a little unbelievable, but so, too, is the thought that Vulcans can just be unfeeling machines, when they are flesh and blood. Even if it’s green blood.

        “He wasn’t ashamed of them, if that’s what you’re asking. And he’s not the only one that buries himself in his work or formality when he’s uncertain.” Boyce stares straight at him, and Leonard swallows, thinking back to his undecorated walls, his existing just for a job that he could have easily performed in his sleep. The rebuke has made itself known, and he just nods and swallows a little more from his flask. “I do think the grief made him a little more emotional than usual, but he finally achieved a balance between his human and Vulcan sides, and I do hope his current counterpart can achieve the same. To my mind, doubt, seeking meaning, and overthinking seem to be possible no matter the species.”

        “But Kirk knows. Through that ‘mind-meld’ thing.” Some of his insecurity must show at the question, because Boyce’s reassurance is, well.

        It’s not exactly the most reassuring. “I’m pretty sure both he and Older Spock agreed to try not to spread the details, but any of this I learned through Chris, who isn’t confidentiality-bound. The other version of you was a screw-up, too. Divorced twice, nearly changed history for the worse, could be more than a little racist or sexist, at times.”

        Damn, with that glowing praise, who wouldn’t want him? McCoy is not nearly drunk enough for this. Just enough to voice that out loud, even when he knows he shouldn’t. “Not exactly the kind of guy any pretty young thing should get stuck on,” he grumbles.

        Boyce shakes his head and smiles. “Oh, he talked enough about how attractive you were—and I am itching to try to figure out the root cause of the difference in eye color even though I know it’s research I’ll never get to do—but one thing you’ll learn pretty quickly is that Captain Kirk is capable of seeing the absolute best in everyone but himself. How his counterpart didn’t always take your advice but valued it highly and how he feels a little lost now that he knows it’s not there. That yes, you could sometimes be stubborn about the wrong things, but how it can be rare to meet anyone who holds on to morals as fiercely as you. That you always had this uncanny sense of when it was fine to tease and when he needed some reassuring words to steer him through, better than anyone else he’d ever met. That you never got drunk while on duty. That he had never met anyone with as big a heart or as strong a spine or who would battle Death itself ‘till the end for a patient, and if that failed, if there was still a life to save, you’d just grimly roll back your sleeves and dive right back in. That’s the kind of man I’d think it only makes sense to admire, if not feel even more strongly about.”

        McCoy briefly gets distracted at the thought of the eye color—does that mean his alternate self is more like a non-identical twin, and if so how the hell does that work—when the rest of it catches him up, and damn if it doesn’t have him blushing. He’s only really heard praise this glowing from his nana. The point is clear. It’s not about living up to that version of himself, because it’s not like he was perfect or if Kirk thinks he was—because he clearly does not. Then another thought occurs to him, between what he’s been told and the conversations he’d personally had with the Captain. “It’s not about me, is it? He’s terrified he won’t live up to his own image.”

        Boyce just takes a long sip from his glass. He can’t confirm or deny, so it’s probably something Kirk had brought up in conjunction with Boyce’s own duties as a physician. But since Leonard had come to the conclusion on his own…

        “Thank you, Dr. Boyce, for a very enlightening conversation, but I probably shouldn’t keep you.” And on that note, he had better sober up as much as he can and go find the Captain, because keeping going around his back like this just doesn’t sit right.

        “Phil, please, and I wouldn’t concern yourself too much on my account. This is important, more than any Starfleet politics, and better company at any rate. Feel free to reach out again.” It’s rare, getting to actually make some sort of friends in the profession, and probably good for him to try to be a little more social now and again.

        “I might well do that, Phil. Feel free to call me Leonard.” It’s only after he’s partway into his cup of tea before he realizes that he’s just experienced the first call in a good long while that he actually felt vaguely good about once he’d ended it.

        Finding the Captain himself is easy enough—most everyone he passes is good enough to give him directions. He can’t imagine that they all know about the time travel, but he’s starting to suspect that Kirk may have talked about him while inebriated and are probably more than a little curious. It doesn’t rankle like it did, because now he knows. Slightly more fun to just stare back, though, sometimes with an eyebrow raised, which flusters most of them enough that they just look away. Sulu passes him in the hallway and just grins at the look. Spock—that is, the younger one—decides to escort him to the Captain, largely not speaking.

        “I trust that you have found the evidence to verify the claims made,” Spock eventually states, purposefully vague enough as to be virtually meaningless to anyone listening who doesn’t know. It’s kind of masterful.

        “The testimonies were good enough, yeah.” He has a million questions he wants to ask, and given the audience, he can’t ask any of them. Which, he realizes suddenly, might very well have been the point. “You gonna make any sort of argument about why I should stay?”

        That quick glance might be startled. It’s hard to tell. This version of Spock is a lot more repressed. “I see no reason to engage in such activities. If facts such as our medical facilities and the opportunity to make novel discoveries are not convincing, I can only conclude that pathos is your rhetorical persuasion of choice, to which others are better suited.”

        “Now you’re just being modest.” He’s still tipsy or he’s actually feeling comfortable again for the first time in years, and it’s a touch troubling that he can’t tell the difference.

        “Gentlemen, please,” Kirk interrupts. His urgent stride slows, though, to allow them to walk alongside them without difficulty, and the tense line of his shoulders relaxes. If anything, it’s a mild admonishment coupled with genuine fondness for them both, and Leonard’s gut is pretty sure the story is true, now. Leonard’s not feeling déjà vu, but he’d bet you anything Captain Kirk is, right now.

        “I had a nice long talk with Dr. Boyce over a drink,” Leonard states, curious to see how the Captain will react, and Kirk winces slightly.

        “I’ve been rethinking my relationship with alcohol,” he admits, and given what else he’s admitted recently…

        “Makes sense. Like most things, it’s probably better in moderation.” He’s not fully sure if or why he’s trying to come off like an actual professional, but for some reason, what the younger man thinks of him actually matters. Well, for one thing, he doesn’t want to be shown up by some other self he’s never heard of, never met, and will probably never really know much about.

        Kirk side-eyes him, but that might be a slight smirk. Of course, he doesn’t get to say what he wants because apparently Spock can’t just leave that lying around. “Like many human sayings, while this sounds true in theory, in practice it leaves much to be desired. Dimethylmercury, for instance—”

        “Is that the one that just outright kills you?” Maybe Kirk really hadn’t been exaggerating about the amount he reads scientific journals for fun.

        McCoy winces. “I don’t know that I’d call it outright. It’s far from instant, and you don’t even notice for months until you start developing neurological symptoms, slip into a coma for months, and even after all these years with barbaric treatments like improved chelation therapy there’s still only a 50-50 chance.”

        Spock nods. “It is hardly the only toxic compound, and humans partake in toxic compounds more than is reasonable.”

        “Humans aren’t the most reasonable of species, Spock.” Kirk just shrugs, and that’s another clue—he doesn’t take offense at either of them. “For one thing, we’re prone to giving advice we don’t follow ourselves.”

        “Illogical,” Spock states, and Kirk shrugs, eyes dancing, like something about this inane conversation has re-energized him. He meets McCoy’s eyes, though, like he wants Leonard to finish, like this is a dare. The reckless adventurer rumors might not be wrong—but then, that gives Leonard an idea.

        “Yeah, you could see it that way, but that’s the point of a scout. Suffering danger so others don’t, and warning those left behind.” The fond look of approval is nice.

        The Vulcan is at least thinking that through. “Your statement would be logical if it was a unique situation that had not happened before.”

        “Score one for learning your history so you’re not doomed to repeat it,” Kirk agrees. “But you have to keep that in mind, too, or you’ll start to think you’re stuck with it, incapable of change. Pretty sure neither I nor the good Doctor here have practiced moderation a day in our lives, because we’re all-or nothing kinda guys, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing to be, but being flexible is probably good, too.”

        “Speak for yourself, Kirk,” McCoy fires back—and, all right, it’s a little twisted, but this is actually kind of fun.

        “I’m getting abandoned already? Ow, that gets me, right here in the feelings,” the Captain declares, and it seems like they’re drawing some stares from the passersby.

        “I am eager to hear your evidence, Doctor,” Spock agrees, one eyebrow arched judgmentally, and Leonard gets the feeling he might be, too.

        “Well, I won’t claim I was the picture of professionalism after my divorce, but generally, I don’t get drunk when I’m on call. Now, I might be between assignments at the moment, but I tend toward moderation for the sake of my patients.” And it’s nice to be reminded of a time when that was true, too.

        The Captain lights up. Spock opens his mouth, probably to argue further, but seemingly gets a call on his earpiece, so it’s as good a time as any to ask the man himself. “Are you trying to seduce me into decidin’ to stay on your ship?”

        Kirk’s glance is a little wary. Like he’s worried about giving the wrong answer. After a moment, he adds, just as cautiously, “Depends.”

        Leonard snorts. “Motivations either are or they aren’t.”

        “I’m trying not to push. I try not to seduce anyone unless they’re open to it. So it depends, Doctor.” The man’s voice is a little harsher, maybe, than he intends, anxious about vulnerability.

        Leonard very strongly wants to cross his arms, but it’s a little hard to do that and walk, even if they’ve slowed down for the Vulcan’s conversation. “In that case, Captain, I’m open to being persuaded.”

        He is pretty unfairly, well, pretty, particularly with a genuine smile. They get interrupted again, though. Leonard might consider it a sign from the universe if he didn’t have some idea of how busy a spaceship is.

        “Captain, we are approaching Regula I, and you have been requested to report down to the transporter room,” Spock informs him.

        “Tell Uhura I’m on my way.” The ease with which he switches from the man to the professional is pretty impressive, and also Leonard would never have believed it without having seen it. Spock nods and strides off, and Kirk turns to McCoy with a smile.

        “Feel free to join me if you feel like braving the transporters,” he suggests, and Leonard inwardly shrugs. Why the hell not? If he’s going to be staying on board, he’ll have to get used to it at some point or another.

        “I seem to be sufficiently liquored up, and it’s not like I’ve had time to change.” As much as he’d wanted to get out of this uniform from hell. Maybe now he’s got the chance to get rid of it for good.

        As expected, Kirk is absolutely delighted, though he does whisper something conspiratorially to a crew member they pass, just so McCoy can’t hear, the tease.

Chapter Text

        Kirk is still wearing the fancy outfit he was complaining about, but he doesn’t show a sign of the discomfort as he strides into the transporter room to meet the team—mostly blue (probably science), including a couple Vulcans, who quiet on their arrival. McCoy’s pretty sure it’s out of respect, not fear, which he sure hadn’t quite managed in all the time he’d been stationed on Vega Colony. The man might not like playing the political games, but it’s clear he’s good at them, without being so distant he can’t have a close-knit relationship with his crew. “I hope accommodations have been satisfactory thus far, Ambassador Sarek.”

        Seems like Spock isn’t the only Ambassador around here. “Your service honors us, Captain.”

        “Thank you.” Kirk turns to the man in engineering reds manning the transporter. “Are we still having the leak down in Engineering, Mr. Scott?”

        The man Leonard only vaguely remembers having met before winces. McCoy is trying not to look at it or think about being atomized, despite how difficult a proposition that is; his imagination is too good, damn it. “Much as I wish we weren’t. We’ve managed to trace it down to the coolant system, but we fix one leak and find three more. Keenser’s taking a good look now.”

        “The coolant system. That wouldn’t happen to be the same one that you got intimately familiar with last year?” Given Kirk’s other pastimes, Leonard wouldn’t be too surprised if the man studied the diagram or wandered around the ship on his off-time. He reminds McCoy of one of those old fashioned ship captains on the sea, and given his ridiculous bent toward nostalgia, maybe that’s even partly the point. That being said...McCoy isn’t entirely sure he wants to know what that phrasing was about.

        “Aye, sir, and what a view of the Enterprise. Too bad I was too busy drowning to enjoy it.” Scott is too busy stuck daydreaming to notice McCoy’s glower.

        Also to his credit, Kirk either senses the atmosphere or realizes how inappropriate the conversation has gotten on his own. “...I get that this is my fault for starting us off down this metaphor, which is why I should probably step in and point out that we shouldn’t talk like that about her. Not when she can’t reciprocate.”

        And, like the rest of the crew, Scott immediately swaps into a professional demeanor. Despite all of McCoy’s previous assumptions and grumbling at his staff, he’d been wrong (like that was anything new). They’re all young, promoted beyond where they should be, true, but it’s not like they’re a bunch of cadets getting ideas above their station. They’d been forged in fire. Honestly, they probably had seen more action than McCoy has. “Point taken. We must but love from afar. Ready to send you down, Captain.”

        Leonard grimaces when they all walk up there and he’s left standing reluctantly behind. But he’d signed up for this. The expectant look in Kirk’s blue eyes when he turns says that he’d understand if Leonard chickens out, that he only has hopes, not expectations, but McCoy has made up his mind to at least try, as uncomfortable at it makes him stepping outside of a little thing called a comfort zone. So he glowers further and marches up to stand right next to the Captain, because suddenly he has something to prove, and the approving smile is, well. He might understand why some of the crew members might want the man’s approval, now. Not that the Captain is just a pretty face. He has a brain and care and love for his ship and crew, which has its own way of inspiring loyalty. McCoy wasn’t wholly wrong, though—the pretty face almost certainly helps.

        Theoretically, he’s aware of how transporters work. He’s seen the statistics on how safe they are. Knowing the odds doesn’t seem to always agree with reality, though, when the whole damn galaxy seems to want to make a mockery of every certainty man has. He realizes he’s been making a fool of himself somewhere around when he realizes Kirk has been patiently reassuring him while carefully propping him up that yes, his bones are actually all still there, and despite the numb tingling feeling he has an acrid aftertaste in his mouth.

        “Are you back with us, Dr. McCoy?” the Captain pauses to ask, noticing that he’s calming down. Something about the way he’s moving. Has to be. Overachiever probably actually paid attention on the required medical courses for command track, too, rather than just doing the bare minimum to scrape by, and thus can actually be counted on for basic first aid and the like.

        “Wish I wasn’t,” he manages, voice sounding more gravelly than ever. He’d let go of his death grip if he wasn’t fairly certain he’d end up in a heap on the floor if he did, which would be even more humiliating. He glances at the pretty young blonde in a lab coat and winces—if anything, she looks ready to start a fight, not that she doesn’t have a right to be, what with the complete circus they’ve brought with them.

        It’s like Kirk reads the humiliation and anger effortlessly, because he instantly moves on to the business, not fussing over Leonard. “Dr. Marcus, sorry about the delay. We’d be more than happy to have the official tour after we change—thank you, Yeoman Szabó. Is there somewhere close by where we can get into something a little more presentable?” Well, that solves that little mystery neatly. He’d asked the yeoman for a change of clothes. He’d joked about planning to murder their formal uniforms, but it hadn’t actually been too much of a joke at the end of the day, had it? Not when he’d just happened to put them in a position they could carry it out.

        One of the other scientists jumps to accommodate, which doesn’t seem to impress Dr. Marcus any further. That’s the kind of disdain that can only come from an ex, is his first thought, before he remembers he’d not too long ago made the same sort of assumptions about whether Captain Kirk even is capable of taking something seriously before he’d even met the man. It’s still a little humiliating being led along, managed like cattle, even if he’s not being held upright anymore. He’d been more out of practice handling transporters than he’d thought—not that he’d done much to remedy that. Why face down a phobia when he had every intention to stay with his feet firmly planted on the ground where man belongs? His brain starts jabbering all the usual existential questions about whether or not transporters count as medically assisted suicide and replacement by a doppelganger. Just because the body replaces its cells on a regular basis doesn’t mean doing so all at once isn’t ten kinds of unnatural, and he’s still not sure they always assemble everything in the correct way. He firmly ignores the urge to voice those thoughts aloud, on account of the fact that he’s already done enough damage to this visit. It’s only occurring to him now that this is the kind of moment that could actually matter, and Kirk’s reputation to half the galaxy still is far from great. And that’s before he sees where they’re expected to go.

        “It’s not much better than a supply closet, but it’ll work,” they’re told before the door is closed. There’s enough room they’re not elbowing each other, but that’s practically the only upside. It’s still rank, cramped, difficult to maneuver, and there’s every chance Kirk’s just going to tip over what looks like an actual old-fashioned mop and bucket in the back corner and have to change his pants again anyway.

        “You didn’t have to invite me along,” he mentions quietly, even if anyone standing outside can probably hear them.

        Kirk is still cheerier than he ought to be, in the situation. “No, true, you’re absolutely right. I didn’t. Honestly, if they’d had cameras or reporters like they were planning, I wouldn’t have. We just happened to make better time than they expected.” Entirely on purpose, McCoy’s sure, given what else he’s seen of Kirk’s planning abilities. They both shuffle around a little.

        “This is salvageable. Sure, Dr. Marcus is pissed, but honestly I don’t think there’s a single thing I could’ve done to make her happy about this.” He pauses and then adds, “That’s me ready. You?”

        Leonard sneaks a peek and he’s actually facing the wall like a gentleman, making some final adjustments to hair and uniform by feel alone. Who knew? “Nearly. I don’t move like I used to.” He’s got a million questions as he pulls the medical blue over his head, but where to start, that’s the real issue. Questions Kirk can actually answer—though he gets the feeling the man would be perfectly willing to wade into a discussion on metaphysics, even if there’s no real answers to be found. “Is she an ex?”

        “Guess so. Not that I remember.” Leonard instantly recognizes the reference that Kirk is trying to make, awe at the ease with which this crew slips into practices that would be common for spies while also being more than a little irritated on Kirk’s behalf. This is the woman, huh? Where she goes and gets her audacity from, he’d like to know. More than just playing god, she’d gone and rearranged a man’s whole world without his say-so, if not from the original drunken encounter than from keeping it from him for years.

        “Excuse me?” their guide asks from outside. “I got some water if you think that’d help.”

        “Door’s open,” Leonard calls, because he gets the feeling the last thing the Captain is gonna do is speak for him. His nana didn’t bring him up badly enough he doesn’t thank the man, though, a sentiment Kirk echoes with another charming smile.

        It’s hard to tell whether the scientist is starstruck or just plain lovestruck, but either way he fumbles his words a bit as he points and indicates he’ll be in the next room when they’re ready. The water’s helping enough that Leonard’s feeling more his usual self as he watches Kirk kick their uniforms into an undignified mound behind the bucket with those Starfleet regulation boots.

        He’d heard enough from other people, but he’d rather hear from the man himself. “I’m serious. Why’d you ask me to come?”

        From the glance, it looks like Kirk knows he’s not letting this go, not for a second. “I need you,” he answers simply. And the thing that pleases and terrifies McCoy all at once is that it’s not just a line, some empty flattery he’s throwing at McCoy’s feet, not with the way he says it. “Spock and I, we’re for this project. Sure, Spock and the other Vulcans are going to look for the flaws when we get underway, they’re as objective as a being can get and I especially trust Spock, but this is for New Vulcan, so I’m not expecting any of them to do their usual due diligence. I figured I could count on you for counterarguments. The project’s still moving forward, and it’s not your area, but if you have ideas on how to make sure this thing doesn’t get misused, I’m all for hearing them.”

        He sweeps his hand toward the door, silently asking if Leonard’s ready to brave the world outside, and he finds that he is, actually. “I get the feeling that won’t make me too popular around here.”

        He doesn’t have to look at Kirk to hear the smile in his voice. “Somehow, I don’t think you were ever itching to enter a popularity contest in the first place.”

        Kirk does actually draw the scientist—Palmieri—into a discussion about the project, and it turns out he’s a biologist, instrumental in choosing the exact range of flora targeted by the genetic restructuring, meaning McCoy’s not completely out of his depth, here, so soon enough he’s actually having another actual talk with someone outside of being on duty. It’s probably the most he’s talked in years. It’s hard to tell if his throat is hoarse because of that, or just simply the alcohol and its aftermath.

        “If you’re both ready to proceed?” Dr. Marcus interrupts, but Kirk just nods, not outwardly troubled by any of it.

        “I figured despite the phobia it was worth bringing Dr. McCoy with us, sorry about that. This is your show,” he acknowledges gently. Kind of him not to mention the alcohol, even though that’s probably pretty obvious. “I’ve seen the project proposal, though where you were in the process was less clear in the briefing.”

        Dr. Marcus allows herself one final glare before she turns and starts leading them. “Due to the needs of the Vulcans, our project was fast-tracked. We’re already on Stage Two, and have just completed our second successful test, which I will now show you.”

        “That’s quick,” Kirk mutters to himself. Funny, Leonard was thinking the same thing.

        Well, if he’s been brought on to be a nosy, annoying bastard, he sure can oblige. “There wasn’t time for a pre-print covering success rate?”

        She...doesn’t bristle. If anything, she looks a little scared. “There were...concerns, when I gave my proposal, that this technology could be misused, so while I would usually publish open-access, in this case I agreed that Genesis should be considered classified.” Well, good, that increases McCoy’s opinion of her intelligence slightly, at least. “As for success, we have managed a 97% actual yield, which isn’t too far off our theoretical yield. I’d believed in my project, of course, but I don’t usually see this kind of success in the field.”

        McCoy has to acknowledge that. “Reality rarely matches up to the theoretical.” He lets her bask in the accomplishment for a moment before he moves on to his next point of interest. “How do you determine which planets are targets for this device?” It’s nanites, has to be, though if they’re trying to maintain some illusion of secrecy, it’s probably better not to talk about that directly.

        “We do biological surveys and triple-check the results before using Genesis. It’s important to make sure that there’s no pre-existing life. We’ve already participated in too many mass extinctions as a species. We don’t need to add another to the list.” And she is attempting to be responsible...but that doesn’t mean that it’s absolutely impossible for it to be misused.

        “You didn’t happen to incorporate a final check, something in the device itself to prevent its use if instruments on-board detect life? If anyone half-asses their checks, say, a century from now, there goes a species, and we’d never even know.”

        She bristles slightly and one of the other scientists, whose name McCoy hasn’t caught, bursts out, “So you’re calling us lazy or incompetent?”

        Dr. Marcus shivers and holds out a hand, though. “He just said ‘a century from now’, if this technology gets more widely adopted, we need to keep that in mind. With your permission, Ambassador, postponing deployment until we have added the necessary safety features might be a good idea.”

        Sarek nods. “Humans and technology alike are not without error. It is only logical that such a mechanism should be added. We would be able to assist you.”

        The other scientist doesn’t seem too keen on the idea, but Dr. Marcus just nods, and her word is law, on the little rock and the planet orbiting it. “We would welcome the help, Ambassador.” And then she pauses, turning with a little smug smile, and maybe her being a match for Kirk isn’t so wild an idea after all. “Well, ladies, gentlemen, assorted lifeforms, I would like to present to you...Genesis.” She opens the doors, and McCoy finds his cynicism vanish in the face of what can, with no exaggeration, be called a miracle. He lets out a long, low whistle. Kirk is actually stunned speechless for probably the first time in his life, the others exclaim behind them, and even the Vulcans are too busy being impressed in their own stoic way to judge any of them for being emotional.

Chapter Text

        Jim isn’t too surprised when Carol’s scientists seemingly entirely of their own accord corral people off in small groups until it’s just him and Carol. That suits him just fine; it’s easier to surreptitiously use the gadget Scotty had slipped him to check for bugs. Just in case. Nothing out here, but he’d have to guess it’s because no one expected conversations worth listening in on would be happening out here, or in a storage closet, or maybe they’d had something here that had gotten converted. That being said, any quarters, the main project room, among probably others? Yeah, he wouldn’t bet on any of those being anything like free of bugs, and he also would think twice about telling just anybody on the project half the stuff he’s about to tell her now. She waits until the only other sound they hear is the birds and other wildlife within the planet. And then, because she is annoyed and for good reason, she turns to him, fists balled up. She doesn’t yell, but her voice is definitely displeased. “I did not bring you here to make a mockery of my life’s work!”

        He tamps down any instinct to retaliate. Yeah, okay, it sucks. He gets why she hasn’t shown him the kid, yet, why while she’d probably taken the opportunity of him and Bones messing around to go check on the baby she’s still nothing but angry about it. She’s so focused on her own pain at the moment that the idea it might even hurt him doesn’t occur to her. Not like he gets to dictate how her life goes, or anything, and sure, he’s got a rep that probably hurt him in the long run, here, but still, he needs to be professional at the moment even when he’d really rather not be. “Would you rather no one point out how to make sure your project of creation not get turned into destruction from your dad? And yeah, I told some people—only the people I trusted to help me pull this off. I absolutely couldn’t do this on my own, and you called me asking me to fix it. I haven’t told McCoy because it’s not my secret to tell, but this is. Carol, your kid wouldn’t have happened to have been declared stillborn at first?”

        Her surprise answers his question better than any verbal answer she could ever give. Suddenly he needs to sit, but thank goodness for humans and their idiosyncratic ways and the fact that somebody dragged a bench out here just to sit in the middle of all the oxygen and green. Sure, it’s out of place in an Eden, but sometimes you don’t want to just sit on the grass. Mostly because it’d feel a little too informal for this. He’s not so flustered he doesn’t have his wits to check the bench, too, because if it’d be anywhere...but no, not here either. Seriously, he’s not a spy and he could do better. Okay, yeah, he’s cocky, but he gets that things go wrong, because seriously, man, does he ever. He’s just of the opinion that most mistakes are recoverable.

        “Jim?” Carol asks. From her tone, it’s at least the second time she’s asked. He refocuses.

        “Sorry, it’s just...I haven’t actually had to tell anyone about this. Everyone who knows figured out on their own.” He takes a deep breath. For the good of the many, as Spock is so fond of saying, or at least somebody else. “Turns out I’m half-human.”

        He’ll give Carol this. She’s smart. “Your father?” she asks, probably correctly assuming that if it’d been his mom there’s no way she could have kept it a secret from Starfleet this long, not with being high-ranked herself or with the extra scrutiny.

        And you know what, yeah, that’s easier than explaining the shapeshifter thing or even the bastard thing, so he’ll go with it. He hasn’t been able to change one atom, as far as he can tell, aside from his appearance in dreams. “Not like I can go around saying he’s a secret alien now. Nothing wrong with aliens in Starfleet, but secret ones with maybe their own agendas? Destroying their image of George Kirk the hero?” He shakes his head, and she puts a hand on his arm.

        She’s freaking out and wrapped up in her own stuff but she sure as hell isn’t unfeeling. She puts a hand over his. “I am so sorry, Jim. I didn’t know.”

        And it’s nice. Not a meal, necessarily, but a snack, at least. He interlaces his fingers with her own. “And now you do. That’s the whole purpose of me telling you.”

        She smacks him on the shoulder with her other hand, and they’re both maybe giggling a little bit hysterically.

        “Okay, biology basics, because I figure you being a biologist nerd and mom you’d like to have them. The kid’ll probably be fairly normal until puberty hits, at which point…” damn it would hurt to be judged now, even if he has the feeling she or Dr. McCoy or both would probably be more on the ‘fascinating specimen’ end of things, “...they’ll start being able to see and enter other people’s dreams, if they haven’t before. I’m guessing with him being more on the human side of things, it’ll be delayed from where I was, but most of this is new. Probably need less sex than me, but get at least a little nourishment from sexual encounters.”

        Her grip slips a little, which has him briefly worried before she speaks and it’s clear she’s just lost in thought like he’d been. She’s still freaking out a little, but she’s also compartmentalizing, and it’s not nearly as bad as he’d expected. “That explains why I went for you.”

        “Excuse you?” He remembers the party, if not the after, in at least a little haze. “I didn’t seduce you or anything. I wasn’t just asking about your thesis as a means to an end, and I distinctly remember several hours feeling buzzed and trading the worst scientific pick-up lines we’d ever heard.”

        “That’s charismatic to some people,” she counters with a smile, and suddenly it feels like everything’s righted itself again. Whatever else happens, they’re going to be okay.

        “Yeah, yeah. Talk nerdy to me.” But that’s nice, too, the thought that she hadn’t just felt the pull of whatever weird alien seduction routine he’s got, the fact that they might’ve just liked each other honestly, that it wasn’t just a fluke replicating what had happened to that other Jim. That maybe him being half-human was just like so-called liquid courage, activation energy, just what she needed to actually make a move on him and not just think about it. Maybe Pike actually was onto something. Not that he’d lie, but he seriously tends to overestimate how much his life is universally applicable.

        “Actually, I want to hear about the preparations from your side. I’ve tried to look for spies or bugs, but I’m not sure I’d notice them anyway. It’s not my field, and in any case if asked for an update from an admiral, I’m not sure any of my people would refuse without cause. Which I can’t give them.” Sharp as a razor, honestly.

        “I don’t know everything. Safer not to. We’ve got Pike and Boyce on our side, plus probably Archer? And maybe not every single Vulcan, but at least a lot of them. Ambassador Sarek has our back here. Sulu even made a few calls to some journalists he knows. Everything’s riding on this and we can’t mess this up. If we make New Vulcan and it goes well, it’d be terrible PR to turn right around and use this on, say, Qo’noS. Easier terraforming could help prevent another Tarsus IV, and colonists in a whole lot of systems would be clamoring for your help, making you pretty busy for a while.” He squeezes her hand. “That being said, that means everything’s riding on this first try, more than usual when it comes to funding. If your dad sabotages it or manages to set a precedent with the choice of planet, he could argue that it’s a line we’ve already crossed, so why worry? Or he could ensure you’re tried for crimes against bioethics and life, and squirrel you back away that way.” It’s been a while since anyone’s been condemned as harshly as the medical scientists that kicked off the Eugenics Wars, but Admiral Marcus seems pretty ruthless and the kind of guy to go right for the throat. Given the way Carol swallows, she agrees.

        “Why are you so far ahead in your research, anyway?” That’s been nagging him since he beamed down. It’d been an important question before that, but actually seeing it now feels wrong.

        She sighs. “Someone else had been working on this in secret, and I should thank Dr. McCoy once I get over my bruised ego. It had been modified to be even easier to use as a weapon—the delivery housing not only looks like a torpedo, it is a modified torpedo, for goodness’ sake. Of course, they tried to just say that one of my co-authors continued work on it, but I know them and none of the design decisions sound like them.”

        He’d been hoping that wasn’t the case, but he’s not surprised, either. “Well, I’ve got a lot of really, really smart people on my crew. We can figure this out. That being said, everyone has their strengths, and I have mine. I can speak geek, but I’m probably best off trying to identify your mole. Crew, likely suspects, let me at ‘em. First instinct?”

        She sighs. “Dr. John Harrison, though he doesn’t seem to like my father very much and I feel like he might be reporting to someone else—perhaps one of the other Admirals. My father has not made many friends.”

        Sadly, that’s not a name Kirk remembers from his brief glimpse from the older Spock, and as far as he knows Admiral Marcus wasn’t such a pain in the ass the first time around, so he’s going to have to do this the hard way and not cheat. It sucks, but then, responsibility comes with the title of Captain, so he’s just going to have to suck it up.

        “We have the USS Reliant, outfitted with all the latest sensors, currently scouting for a suitable planet, although I believe the Captain, Terrell, informed us that Starfleet exploration records are being used to speed up the process, and I’ve coordinated a little with its science officer, Demir. I don’t know about the rest of the crew. We have two Deltans, Jedda Adzhin-Dall and Zinaida Chitirih-Ra-Payjh. I doubt it’s either of them.”

        “Yeah, given the whole empathy thing they’d probably catch on pretty quick, and culturally they’re not a fan of Starfleet’s leaning more military.” The first of which, honestly, is one of the reasons that Kirk had generally avoided them—sure, he might be able to convince one of them to ignore their oaths after joining Starfleet, but even getting past that, it’s hard to tell how much they’d be able to get from him. They’d probably also be one of the best leads, but he’d rather leave that to Boyce.

        She nods. “Vance Madison—one of my co-authors—is very by-the-books, though he also believes overwhelmingly in Starfleet and might easily be persuaded to share information if he believes my father is asking for noble intentions. I don’t know how easily he would catch on. Delwin “Del” March, another co-author, is very protective of the project. If anything, he’s upset that we’re bringing anyone else in.”

        Kirk nods. Those names are all familiar, and it’d be good to put names to faces soon.

        “The rest are a little less involved; Ciriaco Palmieri is the one you’ve already spoken to. He gets a little star-struck, but means well. Ayomide Afolayan is probably the best organized among us, other than our steward, as well as the most aware of health and safety regulations.” From the slightly sheepish look, it seems like the rest of them sometimes get too into it to remember. “Mahir Nuri Ala al-Din Amjad likes to draw us all into philosophical discussions, but then, he’s our bioethics expert, and he takes his work seriously. I highly doubt he would be involved in anything the slightest bit nefarious. Like Del, Priska Schumacher practically lives and breathes Genesis, so much we have to remind her to eat at times. Krystiana Nowak is one of the oldest scientists we have and is a loan from Starfleet, so it’s possible she’s a plant, but she doesn’t work on the application so much as theory, and I haven’t noticed her directly sabotaging anything. Our steward, Malo Brendan, entertains us with stories about how his ancestors were butlers for the wealthy, though I’m not sure how much of it is just tall tales to entertain. He has a knack for it, though, and works seamlessly with Yoshi, our cook, who’s always aiming to improvise, and Afolayan.” She hesitates, then adds, “They’ve all been very helpful with David, especially with me as lead researcher. I’ve put all their files on this padd.”

        Kirk nods. He’s had experience checking through service histories for anything that doesn’t feel right on the Enterprise, with Pike and Boyce backing him up, just in case, because he’s still a little new at this and feeling his way around, and it’s nice having a name, even if it’s one he’d kind of expected already. “You need this back after I’m done, or…?”

        She stands with a smile, reclaiming her hand only to hold it out for him to help him up. “Please, Jim, if that’s the last Starfleet takes from me, I’ll feel very lucky indeed.”

Chapter Text

         McCoy had been intending to keep his distance from the Vulcan delegation. He really had. It just so happens that making one smart remark suddenly means he’s actually having folks expecting things from him again, actually looking at him to speak up rather than counting down the time ‘till he stops, and given how his head’s smarting a little, it’s more work than he’s done in years. This definitely isn’t routine, something he could pull off in his sleep, and he’d gotten a little too complacent sitting on his rear end and not actually stretching his legs, or in this case, his brain, once in a while.

         Oh, it’s not as if he’s about to stop complaining, because there’s plenty to complain about. His mouth is just being kept too busy to do it much of anywhere other than his own head, and the few times it slips out in the middle of a heated debate, it’s actually, for the most part, ignored. He’s just this doctor who hasn’t bothered to keep up with anything, and on top of that he’s rusty. Why the hell are they all looking to him for answers? Sure, it’s not like he’s the only one, but it still doesn’t sit right. Why the hell does the Vulcan delegation all sound condescending even when that’s possibly not the intent, because they’re too good for emotions? Many of them don’t even disagree about the ethics of the whole thing, but seeing as it’s happening anyhow, they’re out to future-proof it as much as they can. A couple of the younger scientists take offense, sure, but several of the older scientists including some of the Vulcans not only take McCoy to task for the way he puts things but point out there’s some logic in his words, what he has to assume is high praise, however backhanded it feels. By the end of it, he’s far too sober, he’s actually having to dredge up old textbook memories about genetics and detecting life, and worst of all none of that is what is bothering him the most about this whole damn thing.

         He’s listed every single thing that could go wrong in his head, twice, and voiced a couple of ‘em out loud, just to give them more to think about and try to figure out failsafes for, and even then he’s having fun. He still thinks the whole thing is a terrible idea, of course, but he’s somehow managed to put that out of his mind a couple times today.

         Probably even more annoying, when he does get the chance to think, he’s distracted by unexpected moping, like he’s somehow become a teenage girl. All right, a good part of that is Kirk’s fault, promising a man the sky and then going off to have a one-on-one with his ex and then spending time flashing those charms at literally everyone else and not exchanging a single word with him. If he’s being honest, a man has every right to a civil enough conversation with his ex. Even having barely known the man, McCoy can tell the rest of the flirting isn’t earnest, not like Kirk’s been with Leonard, but it still stings, and it doesn’t help that Amanda, the wife of the Vulcan ambassador, took it into her head to cheer him up. Her initial approach had been tougher than his ma or his nana, so he’d made the mistake of thinking her a pushover, and is still reeling a bit from how firmly she’d insisted on hearing every last detail about him and going into a discussion on books of all things. He’d wager her whole approach had been a survival strategy, the lone emotional human in the sea of unthinking robots on Vulcan.

         The food really is good, and he’d managed to at least catch a glimpse of the wayward captain as he goes back for seconds. Personally, Leonard would’ve been much more impressed if not for the fact that the Enterprise has its own chef, too, rather than just the typical food synthesizers. A damn good one, in fact.

         Still, the best break he gets is being able to come back to the quarters he’s been assigned, only to find he’s sharing with the blond, who happens to have made himself perfectly at home, having settled in on his stomach with a padd in hand and an absolutely ancient pair of headphones wrapped around his ears. Gentlemanly of him to insist on two beds. Given his reputation, they might have assumed they’d only need one, especially given how they arrived. Kirk’s trying to concentrate, but the occasional yawn says that maybe he’d found the flirting a little too strenuous even for his own natural tendencies. It actually takes tapping on his shoulder to get his attention, but he pulls the headphones down easily enough, and this time he doesn’t rip off the glasses, fiddling with them a little self-consciously.

         “Comin’ from a bona fide doctor, you’ll ruin your hearing that way,” McCoy informs him.

         Kirk smiles a little, but he’s more thoughtful than anything. “The music helps me concentrate. Better than the old earbuds I used when I was a kid. I actually got an ear infection wearing those too much. They were my dad’s.” And then he moves on easily. For a guy who insists on sharing far too much information about himself, he’s really a private individual, isn’t he? Just shares enough, especially shocking things, so no one asks too many questions. “Thanks for the concern, though, Bones.”

         Leonard pauses in his getting his bed ready to stare over at the other, incredulous. “Isn’t it a little too early for nicknames, kid?”

         Kirk actually glances away, which is a bit surprising. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who gets embarrassed. “This is maybe going to sound a bit bad, but when we came down and you kept freaking out about making sure your bones were all there and didn’t get misplaced by the transporter?”

         McCoy fully admits he’s an asshole and a hypocrite, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of calling it out when someone else does it. “Being mocked isn’t exactly appealing, Kirk.”

         “I’m not mocking! Well, maybe a little friendly ribbing, but…” he trails off, and then adds quietly, “...I kinda thought it was adorable, okay?”

         This kind of disarming comment is probably a good portion of why they even let him do diplomacy in the first place. “If you think that kinda thing is adorable, no wonder you need to get your eyesight checked,” is all he can think to respond. Plus, another thought occurs to Leonard. “That’s the nickname my counterpart had?”

         Kirk rubs the back of his neck. “It, uh. Yeah. From sawbones. Sorry, it just kind of slipped out. I promise I’m not confusing the two of you or anything.”

         “Distinguishing on account of eye color?” he clarifies wryly.

         He’s managed to startle Kirk, who actually glances over, eyes so blue behind the glasses, and then smiles shyly. “Something like that,” he drawls. This isn’t mocking either—at least, not intentionally so. It’s something that’s all Kirk, done for emphasis, probably. He’s definitely not from Georgia, but despite all the media declaring him a child of space, maybe he actually had spent some early years in the countryside. And then, because the man seems pretty dead-set on proving that grown men can, in fact, be adorable when flustered, he moves on. “So, uh. Remind me again. In the early search for life, what did we use, exactly?”

         “I’m surprised such a historian doesn’t remember exactly,” Leonard teases.

         Kirk chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, humor me. I could always bother McGivers but she’s still busy trying to help the Vulcans find a way to preserve their past, and coordinating with some colleagues on Earth to make sure we’ve got a backup plan in case anything happens to Earth. Honestly, I think she’s kind of making a nuisance of herself trying to preserve a lot of their more ‘barbaric’ history. Which I think they’re simultaneously embarrassed by but see some wisdom in having at least a little record about as a warning to not go there again. Going back to what we’d been talking about with the whole ‘learning your history’ thing.”

         That’s...interesting. Not that Leonard had bothered to pay too much attention to Vulcans before. “So where do they get off acting all high and mighty?”

         “They basically managed to find Buddhist Enlightenment as a species, way before we managed to stop having world wars?” Kirk suggests, and shrugs when Leonard crosses his arms. “Well, it’s not exactly the same, but there’s a lot of similarities between Surak’s teachings and Buddhist stuff, like some emotions only being temporary and not bringing true happiness and being centered on compassion, though for Vulcans it’s definitely seen through a logical lens. There’s other stuff they definitely disagree on, like reincarnation kinda, but I didn’t fully follow what Spock was saying there. He definitely mentioned something about it being one of the closest steps humanity has taken toward civilization, other than maybe stoicism, though he’s definitely raised an eyebrow at some of the stuff.”

         “Ass,” Leonard mutters, pulling the boots off.

         “I mean, he probably was teasing, yeah. Spock does have a sense of humor.” Kirk is entirely unfazed by Leonard’s incredulous look. “If you stick around you’ll see. But you didn’t answer the question. Some of it was proteins that we thought could only be made organically, right?”

         “That’s one of the main criteria they’re looking at now, yeah,” McCoy agrees, slightly impressed despite himself. Not only does this young, handsome captain read journals for fun, he actually remembers some of what he reads. Given the overachiever he is, it’s probably at least partly so he can actually read the reports he’s given and be able to ask intelligent questions and give some sort of grounded response. “The models have been fine-tuned over the years, seeing as we’ve met intelligent life since for comparison. No one raised a voice on the more plausible, but when I left they were still debating whether to include silicon-based life.” Personally, he’d call the existence more theoretical than anything—the whole universe and they still haven’t found one life-form, and like several of the other theories on alternative life, it doesn’t allow for the same kinds of complexity, though they’d still want to avoid destroying even an amoeba, of course.

         Kirk nods, showing that he hadn’t been spending the entire time flirting. Or that, maybe, it’d been in service of a goal. “I mean, other than increasing the length of the instructions and thus storage requirements, adding all the lines with substituted silicon instead of carbon isn’t too big a deal. The issue would be if you expand that out—which, if we’re being cautious, we probably should. Add in some of the nucleic acids that aren’t used on Earth or any of the other planets we know about. And it’s self-preservation, too. Like, if you get mirror image chiral molecules, whether the Genesis Device would even be able to identify or reorganize it, and if it doesn’t, whether that doesn’t pose a threat, since it’s not like we have any natural defenses, ability to break down the molecules, or anything. Better to stay clear of that kinda stuff.”

         Maybe he’s showing off a little. Even if he’d just been hearing about all that for the first time at the dinner, or in talks with the scientists, that’s a good ability to grasp the important details. “I’m impressed. You do have a sense of self-preservation.”

         “I’m working on it,” is the not at all concerning answer. “Anyway, more obvious stuff like terraforming or alterations of the surface is easier to program for, but…”

         “This isn’t really my field, so I can’t pass on the details, but they’re thinking about adding a delay between the deployment and firing, along with further scans just to be sure. Long enough to make sure nothing got missed, not long enough for anyone to run the risk of landing at the wrong time.” Kirk’s sudden concerned expression says better than words could have that he sees the benefits and flaws of that little scenario, which is nice. Not that some of the others hadn’t, or they wouldn’t have argued over it in the first place, but Kirk thus far has a good sense for when he’s overreacting and when he’s got a point.

         So he continues. “Given the whole point of the exercise is to render planets habitable, it’s easy enough to confirm planet classification as one of the uninhabitable classes after the initial choice, and that covers the whole atmospheric composition angle. Considering sound or movement’s harder, but that’s physics, not biology.” Why couldn’t they have sprung for beds this nice for his bare-bones apartment, anyhow? Staying conscious is getting harder, and he notices his accent thicken as focusing becomes an issue. No wonder Kirk was resorting to music to keep himself awake.

         “And then, once it’s all finalized, they’re planning on making it a read-only file, right?”  Kirk sounds all casual and innocent, but that’s nothing but a bunch of bullshit and probably everyone who’s known the man for more than a few minutes would know that.

         Well, that sure explains why they’re making such a production out of it. “You’re trying to find some kind of saboteur.”

         Kirk won’t meet his eyes. “I’m not allowed to confirm or deny.”

         All the easy feelings disappear in a puff of smoke. “I’m havin’ a hard time understandin’ what’s goin’ on here. Why not just pull the plug until it’s sorted out? You know what kinda destruction it’s capable of.”

         Kirk lets out a long breath. “It’s not that easy.”

         Which has to mean some kind of internal politics or something. “Dammit, man, I’m a doctor, not a spy!”

         The man finally glances back, smile soft and fond and something he’s sure not ready to see directed in his direction again. “I know. Which is why I was trying to keep you out of it, forgetting you’re observant as all hell.”

         There it is again. That utter belief in his abilities, without a shred of doubt. It’s equal parts addictive and absolutely terrifying. Why, if asked, he’d probably say ‘Doctor McCoy could cure a rainy day’ or pull off some other sort of absolutely ridiculous miracle. “Nosy, you mean.”

         “That too,” Kirk agrees, and adds, “You involve yourself because you care.”

         It isn’t just faith in his abilities, then. Good God. And yet, if he thinks about it, today he actually had done his best to live up to those expectations. Probably hadn’t just been luck the man had managed to stop a mad Romulan, then, not if those expectations are enough to shift reality.

         “You’re overthinking over there, Leonard,” the man remarks, setting down the padd and burrowing under the covers.

         “Occupational hazard,” McCoy counters, yawning.

         “Occupation later, sleep now. Captain’s orders,” Kirk insists, before muttering a heart-warming, “Good night, Leonard,” half into the pillow.

         And Leonard follows pretty soon after.

Chapter Text

        It is slightly less sweet when Kirk is staring at the profiles again first thing in the morning. At least he’s trying to be considerate about where he points that light, so as to let Leonard sleep in just a little. “So, who’s your money on?” The sideways glance, he’s guessing, is probably because he’s taking this so well, following the outburst last night. “Well, if I’m going to be stuck in the pages of a thriller, I might as well try to keep up.”

        “Everyone else doesn’t seem to like Harrison much. Not that he’s mean or anything. He’s just new. Perfectly polite, maybe even a little bit charismatic, really intelligent and likes helping everybody out, but he hasn’t had time to mesh with the rest of them yet. He’s worked with Nowak before, so they get along decently well, but I wouldn’t call them close. None of which, of course, means anything, and if this were a book I’d be calling him a red herring, but something about his name and face...I don’t know, it’s ringing some sort of bell but I can’t place it.” He isn’t really given time to elaborate further, though, because there’s an urgent hammering on the door and then Dr. Marcus herself bursts in.

        “I’m sorry to bother you, Jim. My father’s demanding to speak with you.” The quickly concealed alarm and swallow suggest that the Admiral is somehow involved in all this cloak and dagger nonsense, but Kirk just nods.

        “Tell him I’m on my way.” He might be used to being woken up at odd hours—which is likely, on a starship—or he simply has the superhuman ability to ignore the need to yawn. The wry smile on the man’s face doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he turns back to McCoy, though. “The busy life of a starship Captain. Everybody wants a piece of me.”

        “I sure hope none of the admirals want you in your pajamas,” McCoy retorts, and that laugh is certainly genuine.

        Leonard had been a little less certain about going himself, listening in on what might be a call whose contents were meant to be kept secret for some godforsaken reason, but on arrival is a little less worried on account of the fact that the rest of the scientists have practically packed themselves into the corridor outside to listen in. It’s not out of the question that the attempt to arrest them all would happen anyway, but it’d certainly make it more of a pain in the ass. They’re all murmuring among themselves, nervous. They know something’s going on, too, just not what.

        “Captain James Kirk. You are hereby ordered to turn the Genesis Device over to me,” Admiral Marcus thunders, and Kirk falters, confused, just for a second. The corridor goes silent, and several of the scientists seem to have frozen entirely. McCoy keeps several of them in his peripheral vision, monitoring whether they haven’t plumb forgotten how to breathe like the geniuses they were—sure, this sounds bad, but every situation can easily be made worse by passing out or hitting your head and then having to deal with the same situation on top.

        “Admiral Marcus, sir, I was under the impression that this is a civilian project…” Kirk begins, and it doesn’t take long acquaintance to guess that the man’s stalling.

        “You were misinformed,” the Admiral replies firmly.

        It’s clear Dr. Marcus has had enough of sitting on the sidelines, because she interrupts. “Actually, he wasn’t misinformed. This is my project. The proposal was granted under scientific and not military funding, so the military arm of Starfleet has no right to any of this.”

        He glances at his daughter and then his gaze slides right past her, the asshole. “Of course, all components and personnel are part of this transfer request, including the head of the project, Dr. Marcus.”

        Kirk takes a deep breath and then nods stiffly. “I assume you have already transmitted the written orders to this installation?”

        “I have not.” Marcus shakes his head.

        Kirk blinks, and then prompts, “...But they’ll be coming shortly.”

        The Admiral repeats himself patiently. “They will not.”

        “I am requesting written confirmation of your orders.” He’s definitely starting to get a little annoyed, though he’s keeping a tight lid on it.

        “Request denied. I don’t think you’re aware of the position we’re in, son. I am acting in my capacity as head of Section 31. Giving you written orders would be against every known protocol.” He’s still trying to sound reasonable and still refusing to even look at his daughter, talk to her, or really acknowledge her in any way.

        “It’ll take some time to pack all the equipment up.” Stalling again.

        “I am aware. I will be arriving at Regula I in just over three hours. I believe that will be sufficient time, Captain.” And then he finally looks at his daughter. “It’ll be good to see you again, Carol.”

        He is about to sign off, by the looks of it, when Ambassador Sarek strides through. The scientists just part for him, like the Red Sea, which is probably good so he doesn’t have to do anything undignified like push others out of the way. Several of the others spontaneously remember to breathe like he’s some kind of savior. “And what of the needs of Vulcan?”

        “Ah, Ambassador, I’m very sorry. Something came up. You’ll have to wait a little longer, I’m afraid, but I’m told there’s a phrase you’ll understand—the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” Rather than listen to any further objections, he just ends the call.

        “You can’t let him just take Genesis,” Dr. Marcus insists, sounding not a little betrayed—and for good reason, given what her father just demanded. But what else can they do?

        Kirk, though, is shaking his head, like he’s convinced there’s another way. Maybe that’s just how he exists. “I’m not planning on it. I didn’t actually agree to anything, and I’m pretty sure at minimum, seizure of property is one of those legal things we could nail him on. If we run out of ideas, we just move it to the Ambassador’s quarters.”

        McCoy has seen that same exact eyebrow raise on Spock, he’s fairly certain. Both of them.

        “Well, you’ve got diplomatic immunity. That’ll at least take him some time to weasel his way around,” Kirk answers the unspoken question. “If all else fails, we raise a huge diplomatic stink. He started it first.”

        “Indeed,” the Ambassador agrees.

        “Well, we’ve got work to do. Come on, people.” Kirk claps his hands.

Chapter Text

        McCoy’s uncharacteristic bout of optimism doesn’t last. Kirk’s probably entirely characteristic and predictable confidence does, but that isn’t much of a commentary on the situation. McCoy is starting to get the feeling that the sky could be falling and the man would still say they had a chance, somehow. The general mood is subdued, with only Kirk and Dr. Marcus still entirely focused, occasionally directing others in a kind of carefully choreographed list of instructions. It doesn’t help that Leonard is entirely out of his element, since most of what they’re doing is technical or subterfuge in nature, and he’s a doctor. He’s briefly consulted about characteristics for life and how he’d even implement it, like Kirk himself had asked. As if they’ll manage to implement the failsafe in a matter of hours, even with the Vulcan’s top minds on the topic. Soon enough he finds himself with nothing to do, and no further suggestions for him to help out, which stings.

        It hadn’t taken Kirk too long to discover that they appear to be cut off, because his first instinct is to call for the Enterprise. He’d barely managed a few sentences before the signal was lost, and they had yet to re-establish a connection. Kirk had practically cannibalized one of the communicators to determine the problem wasn’t there before taking matters further into his own hands. Ironically, it turns out that Kirk is not afraid of getting his hands (or clothes) dirty and didn’t need to arrange anything fancy to ruin the dress uniform. He grabs both a tricorder and an actual old-fashioned wrench, seeing as the rest of the good tools were commandeered already, and dives headfirst into the communications console, heedless of grime or any other hazards.

        “When are you going to write this off?” McCoy wonders. The view isn’t bad, and under other circumstances he might actually enjoy it, but he’s sadly stuck with the here and now. Where the here and now doesn’t even offer anything to keep him busy. Sure, he’d volunteered to keep an eye on the lights and other readouts, things Kirk can’t do from under the console, but an actual child could do the same thing and be just as useful. The sad reality of it is, he’s utterly useless here, just the washed-up doctor kept around for eye candy.

        “I don’t give up. I just look for alternative routes to victory,” Kirk responds brightly, popping up with a slightly infuriating smirk and wiping a smudge on his cheek. It just smears it, but if that bothers the man, he gives no sign. “That being said, you’ve got a point. This isn’t getting us anywhere. It’s not a mechanical failure, which means jamming or something on their end. Maybe Marcus is trying to make sure we can’t double check his orders, but...I dunno, it doesn’t feel right.” He actually sounds a little frustrated by the end, running his fingers through his hair and just succeeding in getting both dirtier.

        “I’m surprised you’d poke around in the guts yourself,” Leonard remarks, and guesses the kind of response he’ll get the second before he does, because Kirk waggles his eyebrows like an ass.

        But his tone, while a little flirtatious, isn’t half as bad as Leonard had feared. “Eh, nobody’s complained about me getting hands-on before,” he suggests, setting the wrench down and grabbing a water bottle for a swig. “Plus, like you, I don’t sit still well.”

        “Then give me something to do,” Leonard growls. The smile falters a little, Kirk’s hand stilling, gaze seeking out Leonard’s gaze before he nods.

        “Not that you watching me isn’t plenty hot, but you’re right. You’re good with names and research, right?” It’s just local network stuff, but it’s something.

        “More busy work?” he asks with a scowl, and Kirk shakes his head, refusing to be repressed by McCoy’s bad mood.

        “Not as such. Guess you haven’t noticed—nobody’s seen Harrison since the call. There’s no guarantee you’ll find anything, but my gut’s telling me he’s one of the keys to this.” If he’s feeding McCoy a plate of bullshit, he’s a convincing liar, because he’s absolutely acting like he believes it.

        “I’m afraid you may be right, Captain,” Amanda announces, joining them. “I was sent to inform you that the transporter pad has been destroyed, and a thorough search has not found Harrison.”

        A thrill of fear runs through McCoy. “You have got to be kidding me.”

        “We’ll be fine,” Kirk states in a steadying voice, hand held out to touch.

        McCoy doesn’t exactly remember what happened when they’d beamed down, but presumably this approach had helped then. Now, though, he’s aware if shaky and it just pisses him off, particularly with Amanda looking at him with sympathy. “Oh, we will, will we? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re ten miles inside solid rock on all sides, and last I checked, that interfered with our glorious thrice-damned transporter, and to make sure their little science project didn’t escape, the scientists decided to seal up the original entrance, so we’re not getting out with a shuttle. Sure, we think we’ve got food and water and air, but if we’ve got a saboteur who for some reason nobody could have foreseen wasn’t interested in sticking around, we can’t be too sure of that, can we? We’re cut off and can’t call for help, and we’ve got a power-mad admiral on his way to seize a civilian’s science project that could commit genocide faster than anything humanity has ever invented. To top it off, knowing our luck, that’s gone too. That about sum it up?”

        And the bastard’s smiling. “Funny. I thought you liked keeping your feet on the ground, and you just stumbled over the best excuse you’ll ever have to make sure the brass can’t reassign you anywhere else.” He holds up a hand before McCoy can start in on his reckless ass and every single unkind thought he’s ever had about Captain James T. Kirk. “Those are some pretty solid points, but you’re missing some things. We’ve got a wiz with a transporter. He is, as far as I know, the only person to manage to beam people on board a starship at warp. Scotty could pull off a miracle without a sweat. If we have to phaser our way out or rig up something to send out a message using Morse Code, we can and will. We are getting out of here, sooner or later, and I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure we wind up on the sooner end of the equation.”

        Goddamn the man is good at what he does. Forget every notion he’d had previously about the man’s looks being the only qualification for leadership. Leonard might have been a little more skeptical if he hadn’t just seen the man attempt repairs with a wrench. Hell, he’d believe the man would find a shovel or a spoon if he thought it was necessary, and keep going long after a sane man would quit. “And I suppose it’s going to be just that easy, then? You even know anybody who knows something that ancient?” He’s trying to growl, but the fire’s dying and, worse, Kirk knows it.

        “Who said any of this was going to be easy? I just happen to have some of the best of the Fleet and Federation on hand, and I can guarantee you Uhura will recognize Morse Code instantly and Spock won’t be far behind.” He pauses to hold Leonard’s gaze, blue eyes electrifying. “That ‘best of the Fleet’ thing includes you, by the way. Stop selling yourself short.”

        “A couple days isn’t enough to get up to date—” Leonard starts protesting, only to realize those aren’t just his words. Sure, they’re every doubt and insecurity, but he’s not the only one who’s put them there.

        “Knowledge is important, yeah, but it’s not everything. A computer can spit out facts. It takes a person to apply them. You know I read, so trust me when I tell you you’re one of the finest medical minds I’ve seen, and there’s no substitute for that.” And then, because that was perfectly calculated to shut Leonard up and send him reeling, he turns to Amanda. “You’re a teacher, right? Feel like lending him a hand looking for a match for John Harrison in the database?”

        “We must all do our part.” She might have terrible taste, but she has a pleasant smile.

Chapter Text

        Leonard sits back, staring at the computer he and Amanda have commandeered. “Goddamn, there’s no way that can be right.”

        “It could be wrong. We are cut off, and we certainly don’t have access to some of the databases out there,” Amanda agrees mildly, a tone that he immediately recognizes as her teacher voice. “Either way, you should tell the Captain, shouldn’t you?”

        McCoy grumbles, but he gets up to go find Kirk. He finds him strangely stationary, sitting at one of the desks and not actually buzzing around with far too much energy, but the man probably deserves a little break in the face of everything’s that’s going to happen. There won’t be too much time for rest soon.

        “You’re not going to believe this…” he begins, before he actually processes the man trying to surreptitiously wipe at his eyes. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

        “Nice.” Jim wipes a hand over his face. McCoy’s not about to apologize for his bedside manner, but it doesn’t seem like Jim is even asking him to do that. “I, uh. We’re actually missing someone else. Carol’s kid.”

        His voice is a little lost. Adrift. As are his blue eyes and gaze.  McCoy’s still not a psychologist, but he’s still a doctor and can keep an eye out for medical necessity, and even for a bit, Jim might need that blanket. “You’re in shock.”

        “Yeah, no kidding.” Kirk swallows. “I hadn’t seen him yet—didn’t want to push, since she didn’t really want me involved—and now this. I wasn’t ready to be a dad, and Carol told me to keep out of it, but now I don’t know if...”

        “Don’t talk like that,” McCoy insists, and Jim actually obeys orders for once and shuts up. “How long has it been?”

        “Since anyone’s seen him? Doesn’t matter; there’s an actual ransom note. Harrison took him, wrote for no one to follow or there would be consequences. Carol’s the head researcher, so she trusted them all to help out—kind of the old ‘it takes a village’ mentality, you know? Harrison didn’t need any extra planning to get to him. Bones, Harrison did a DNA scan from my uniform, the ones we trashed. He knows. He picked the perfect hostage to try to make sure none of us go after Genesis—which is missing, by the way, you were right about that too—not us, not Carol, not the Admiral.” He’s still fairly focused and coherent, despite the slight hitch in his voice.

        Which makes Leonard’s news worse. He sits down next to the kid, reaches out a hand. Jim accepts almost immediately, which eases whatever petty part of him was planning on bitching about being abandoned, at least. And he does seem to be drawing some strength from it, so Leonard doesn’t feel completely foolish about presuming anything.

        Jim shakes his head, pulling himself together. “You, uh, you had news too. What’s up?” McCoy glances over the man, trying to determine if he’s ready to hear the information or if it’ll just make the shock worse, and he just smiles. Slightly broken, but challenging, daring the doctor to declare him unfit for duty. “It’s not like we have all the time in the world. We’re kind of on a timeline, here.”

        “John Harrison is a fairly common name, but none of them on the personnel lists are a scientist. Amanda was able to find the name attached to a scientist in the history books, though—a lieutenant of Khan Noonien Singh. I figure you’ve paid attention to your studies there, on account of being something of a secret nerd,” he teases, not entirely sure Jim had been too accurate about him not going into shock, again, given the reaction.  If he can cheer Jim up...well, the captain should probably have his head checked, but it would probably help.

        “Not so secret,” Jim drawls, squeezing Leonard’s hand and lacing their fingers more securely together. “That actually makes perfect sense.”

        He seems to realize that genocidal madman joining them from a different century isn’t exactly your everyday event for the average person, because he adds, “Something else from the other timeline. I had been hoping they wouldn’t pop up again, but...a lot of other stuff has. The thing that had been bugging me this whole time was that I’d thought Harrison at worst was Marcus’s guy. Maybe the whole ‘give us Genesis’ thing was pageantry, Marcus putting on a show to try to say ‘hey, I’m not the guy who stole it’, but he seemed a little too genuine for that. And sure, he’s a bastard spy Admiral, but he still has his tells, same as anyone else, and I have the advantage of knowing one of his protégés who’s told me those. If there’s actually a third faction in this—like, say, an Augment or several used as agents for Section 31 looking out for the moment they can turn against him and get away with it—that actually makes all of this make perfect sense.”

        And Jim’s looking and sounding energized again. Like this is somehow good information. He might very well be a madman. “Great, fine, so we got this jigsaw puzzle assembled. How does that help us?”

        Jim pats Leonard’s shoulder with his free hand. It manages to almost not be condescending. “Well, it’s good to know the state of the board. Like, uh, Battleship mixed with chess. And sure, Marcus is probably going to try to scapegoat, court martial, or kill us, but he’s not going to try that yet because we’re a plausibly deniable resource to help him against his escapees.”

        “Just what I’ve always wanted, a delayed execution,” Leonard grumbles, and the bright smile is genuine, reaching the eyes.

        “Every day alive is a victory,” the man states brightly, maybe only slightly worryingly like a mantra. “Anyway, I’m going to run it by Carol, but David—she finally mentioned his name—might actually be useful here, too, as long as he stays alive and I’m ripping them apart if not. Because if Marcus thinks he can blackmail us into helping him, he’s less likely to go the nuclear route. And he might also be more likely to spill something useful. The more we know, the more prepared we’re gonna be.”

        “What do you want us to do in the meantime?” McCoy asks. They’re running toward the end of the deadline.

        “You, Amanda...uh, maybe some of the Vulcans or scientists, if they think they can spare anybody. We need to swap to doing two things: figuring out how to stop Genesis after it’s been deployed, and figuring out if Augments have any weaknesses.” He pauses and adds, “I know you’re no physicist, so you’re probably better off in the second group, even if your genetics is a little rusty on account of…” he waves vaguely.

        “Genocidal megalomaniacs killing the field?” McCoy lets himself use the driest tone possible, since Jim seems to like it.

        “Funny how these things work out,” Jim agrees, letting go not a little reluctantly.

        As Kirk stands, a thought occurs to Leonard. “We should look at Harrison’s contributions specifically, any notes he kept, get a feel for the man and maybe more of what he’s planning.” As objective as these things are supposed to be, personality has a way of getting through anyway.

        “That’s why I brought you,” Kirk tells him, proud, and then straightens his shirt slightly and goes off to find his ex, again, while Leonard needs to get his act together, stop letting this bother him, and head off to hand them all marching orders.

Chapter Text

        Spock was prepared, but then, it was only logical that, failing to contact Kirk again, Admiral Marcus would then contact the Enterprise instead. He would, should Nyota ask in confidence, suggest there is a linguistic difference between being ‘prepared’ and being ‘ready’, but as acting Captain, it is quite impossible to do so, so he does not try. He merely does what he can in the time allotted, instead.

        Contact had been lost unexpectedly again, demonstrating that Kirk has an uncanny ability to find trouble. They had recently been able to re-establish contact, only for the message itself to be itself a confirmation of the most unfortunate conclusions. One of the problems, that of Admiral Marcus commandeering the Genesis Project for himself, seems to have, at least temporarily, resolved itself, but only in the sort of way that would happen to James T. Kirk. His son was kidnapped—that, at least, was something Spock could do, tracking one of Regula I’s science vessels as far as he could, to at least have a location, even if he had no ability to follow himself. Technically, he was unable to do the tracking himself, stuck in the Captain’s chair, but his alternate self is more than capable of such work himself, and it is only logical to note that his skills continued to improve over the years.

        He had, in fact, done so before even regaining contact and learning its import, as the ship’s behavior and refusal to even respond to hailing frequencies was highly irregular. The attempt had been rendered easier due to the type of vessel—no matter how skilled the pilot or how thorough the attempted maneuvering, instruments are just as vital to one’s abilities. He had also ordered Uhura to establish contact with the destination, to inform them of an incoming arrival and inquire about any insight they might have into the matter. They claim no knowledge of the circumstances but seem nervous. Spock needs no communications training, merely his experience dealing with humans, to determine that all they have said is a convincing lie, but as he has no evidence to the contrary, trying to confront them would achieve little. Instead, he thanks them and has the record of the transmission itself analyzed for clues. For example, what they had been attempting to hastily conceal under the guise of being busy in the background of the call.

        “They are lying,” Uhura announces, and Spock merely raises an eyebrow.

        “I could tell that much myself, Lieutenant. What is of more interest is what they wished to conceal,” he suggests.

        She smiles at him, apparently in one of her mischievous moods. “I’m not telepathic, unlike some people on the Bridge,” she teases, but obediently listens to the message again. “They wanted to answer your question because they’re scared, but they’ve been ordered to keep it a secret. If they had been completely following orders, they probably shouldn’t have answered at all.” It is, at best, a guess, but given that it is the same tentative conclusion Spock had surmised, it is good to know that they have come to the same conclusion.

        And then his counterpart speaks up from the science station, Kavalioŭ having moved aside without complaint. “I would further submit that what you have just hailed is a Section 31 outpost.”

        Perhaps his counterpart has spent too much time among the humans, after all. “Based on what data?”

        “Section 31 operates in secrecy. If something were to go wrong and their actions discovered, it could be disastrous for the Federation and any ongoing diplomatic efforts. They know who pilots that ship, and so are caught between two fears: a personal fear, and a fear of discovery, with the decision made for them by their acting orders. Section 31 is already involved due to Admiral Marcus, and having lived on Romulus for some years, I can identify even a modified Romulan Cloaking Device on sight, despite such a brief glance.” The other Spock pauses and then continues. “It is merely...an educated guess.”

        “If a logical one,” Spock acknowledges. And there are other instruments to be identified. Some of them Spock himself recognizes as various scientific equipment pertaining to sensor readings, but others he cannot identify, which is why he logically seeks confirmation.

        “I cannae be sure…” Scott begins, hesitant for once.

        Spock just raises an eyebrow. “Are you not one of the finest Engineering Officers in Starfleet?”

        “Aye, sir!” That indignation and certainty, Spock has learned, suggest satisfactory results on the part of their excitable Chief Engineer.

        “As such, do you mean to suggest that you do not keep aware of current engineering developments?” He suddenly has the feeling that the old Vulcan watching him is somehow amused by the exchange. It is a curious impression.

        “Why, nae, sir, I wouldnae say such a thing!” It is the expected answer.

        The energy put into the ensuing rant is better channeled productively, so Spock endeavors so do so. “I am asking for your expert opinion.”

        “Well, why didnae ye say so?” Humans, Spock reflects, while brilliant and certainly capable, are a most illogical species. “If I had to venture an educated guess, ‘tis a wee amplifier, for energy. Though that’s only theoretical, mind ye.”

        Clearly not, if it in fact exists. “In conjunction with a cloaking device, it could be used to increase the area of affect, could it not?”

        “Aye, if that is what it is. Though likely not a ship the size of the Enterprise. I’d have to do the calculations tae be sure,” Scott agrees.

        “Then do your calculations, Mr. Scott,” Spock orders, and Scott beams.

        “Aye, sir! Easy enough.” That enthusiasm for the theoretical serves well on an explorer ship like the Enterprise.

        And then his counterpart speaks up. “Captain, permission to leave the Enterprise.”

        That is...unexpected. “To what purpose?”

        “I wish to aid in learning the fate of Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, Amanda and Sarek, as well as the rest below. In addition, it could be disastrous should I remain on board when the Admiral arrives. If he learns of my identity, he would undoubtedly seek to use my knowledge to his own ends.” All quite logical points.

        “Granted,” Spock replies.

        That, too, is fruitful. After some limited investigation, the cause of the communications disruption appears to be a combination of the equipment itself being missing or sabotaged, as well as a localized jamming device that appears to be on a limited power supply. The elder Spock consults with his exceptional communications officer and chief engineer, and together they had constructed a primitive (if effective) transmitter and a device to increase the transmitter power, before he beams down to Regula I, along with a small security and science team. He reports success in establishing contact, confirming that all but Kirk’s son are safe and accounted for, that the scientist John Harrison had been responsible for the sabotage and stolen craft, that he had also taken the Genesis Project and Kirk’s son, and that he was most likely one of Earth’s missing Augments. The entire chain of events is mathematically improbable, but the fact that his counterpart does not seem remotely surprised indicates that this should perhaps be regarded as a universal—or multiversal—constant when it comes to James T. Kirk.

        Given the lack of effort to ensure the jamming would continue unabated, it is less likely that complete destruction was the goal, rather than delay. It is still, for example, too dangerous in the absence of any other factors indicating haste to beam anyone back, given the interference of the jammer and their location within Regula itself. Nonetheless, Spock has reason to believe that Kirk was focused on getting in contact with and warning the Enterprise, rather than the safety or even the safety of his possible new doctor. He had, for example, after repairs had failed decided to use his knowledge of old Earth history to construct a rudimentary antenna to aid in signal reception on his end. “Instruct the Captain to prioritize efforts to locate and dismantle any remaining bombs,” he tells the elder Spock, who merely smiles.

        “I have already asked him to do so,” his alternate self confirms. Efficiency does seem to be an advantage of working with yourself.

        So it is with that background in mind that he responds to Admiral Marcus’ hails. “Admiral Marcus. I have a report to make,” he announces.

Chapter Text

        The report and discussion after the fact goes approximately as anticipated. The Admiral does not reveal everything, but he does reveal more than he should, including acknowledging that Harrison is a subordinate. The probability is high that rather than an unintentional admission demonstrating incompetence, this is strategic; the Enterprise is with near certainty to be used, to use the human term, as the scapegoat should anything go wrong or the crew attempt to share what they have seen or heard.

        He does not suggest that they were working with Harrison. He does appear surprised and determined to retrieve his daughter’s work, and surprised by Harrison’s own betrayal.

        Spock had not had enough data to accurately predict whether Admiral Marcus would consider the recovery of his daughter (and therefore anyone else, such as Captain Kirk or Sarek) as a priority. Therefore, it did not come as a surprise when the man says he does, but neither does it confirm any prior suspicions. The man does not even appear upset or even surprised by the news he is a grandfather, a revelation that Spock had not seen the wisdom in sharing but had done so anyway on the request of his friend and Captain.

        Marcus seems sincere, but his is also an occupation where lying is not only encouraged but rewarded, so it is entirely possible his skills of subterfuge are more accomplished than Spock’s experience detecting such lies. He does suggest that they leave the Enterprise along with some of her crew behind in order to rescue her Captain, using all resources available in the rescue attempt, but makes the mistake of also suggesting that this is because the Jackson, the ship the Admiral arrived in, is faster than the Enterprise. Fortunately, Admiral Marcus was not yet on board when he made the remark, or Spock would have had to contend with the charge of assault on a superior officer by one Montgomery Scott. The Chief Engineer had then loudly volunteered to remain Acting Captain on the Enterprise and coordinate the search results and had, though not in those exact terms, refused to even consider going in search of Harrison. Chekov had likewise volunteered, though less out of insult and more out of concern for Kirk. Given what he had managed with the transporter on previous occasions, combined with Scott’s own skills, Spock has fair confidence that all below will be rescued before long and will probably be able to join before too long.

        Spock had, after a little coaxing, managed to obtain at least a confirmation of Spock’s own preliminary observation that the Jackson does not belong to any known Starfleet ship class, though it appears smaller than a Constitution-class ship. The name itself is slightly suspect, given the choices of prominent Earth individuals named Jackson, though if the implication is that the man has several, including Augments, working at his behest due to blackmail with little say in their own condition, it is a fitting one, if not considered appropriate. It had been slightly more difficult to gain any useful speculation about the capabilities.

        “I dinnae see how yer expectin’ tae get more power out of nacelles that wee,” Scott complains, surly, and Spock merely raises an eyebrow at him.

        “Expand your line of thinking, Scott. Assuming they are holding back technology from common use, what evidence would suggest he is not merely boasting?” It would be advantageous to have the best to attempt to determine the capabilities from observation, but under the circumstances, Spock will just have to do his best along with the crew member hand-picked by Scott to accompany them.

        The Chief Engineer is briefly distracted swearing about selfish admirals not wanting to share the best technology with the finest ship in the fleet before reluctantly coming back to the point. “The turning, sir. There isnae friction in space, but momentum, aye. I’m sure ye can do the calculations yerself, and compare to the actual speed of the turn.” It’s a solution that Spock had already considered, but confirmation on a course of action is not unwanted. He then scribbles down calculations of his own and a list of other things to potentially check even from the command deck, assuming they’re not allowed ‘near the belly of the beast’ before going off to confer with the colleague he’s decided to send, a freshly graduated Testudo named Stanzun. Despite the turtle-like appearance, Stanzun actually happens to be quick on their feet and a creative thinker, a trait that Spock has come to appreciate more than in his days teaching.

        For instance, he has become more prone to using such measures himself, such as by asking Uhura to extend her duties to playing messenger. It is essentially her usual role, especially under duress where an enemy might be listening in, with the added complication of the fact that they are actually attempting to keep information from those who would originally be on their same side. She is adept at checking for and finding bugs and cameras using her intuition, since it is too dangerous to use any devices to do so, but it only takes one mistake for the plan to fail. She has absolutely no fear of getting caught and if anything seems to be delighting in the opportunity to exercise her language skills—and yes, Spock feels fear in asking her to do this, but there is no one better and she would be highly insulted by the insinuation she is not capable. It is somewhat illogical to place her in harm’s way, but he would be a poor Captain and an even poorer partner would he ask another to do this.

        Once they leave, it is through her, for example, that he is able to receive Sulu’s communication: from sheer muscle memory, the helmsman confirms that the Jackson is, in fact, only slightly slower than the Enterprise, and the ship’s own helmsman, a woman named Sorge, is not pushing her to her full potential despite the supposed urgency of the mission.

        “Something is wrong,” he tells Uhura in Vulcan as they take a brief meal, and she matches his eyebrow raise.

        “You surprise me,” she responds.

        “Why would Harrison return to a Section 31 base? Even a single Augment would have difficulty against numbers.” He has been trying to retrace the steps using logic.

        “Obviously, he considered his plan worth it. The scary version is, he might not be a single Augment. Not there. If they found one, they probably found more. The main question is where the others are stationed—or, probably, left in cryosleep.” A reasonable conclusion, though it makes Marcus’s actions less sensible in return.

        “If that is the case, why the lack of concern on the Admiral’s part? Even if he is successful in hiding his intentions from us, there is no disguising the fact that rather than demonstrate the full capabilities of this vessel, he is choosing to arrive later and potentially miss the necessary window of opportunity, and given his former position, if the Admiral has installed a cloaking device on this vessel, it is only logical to think that Harrison would have been aware of this fact as well, rendering it less effective as an advantage,” Spock points out.

        “They both think they have the winning hands, but we won’t know until—” She is cut off by a sudden lurch. They need not even exchange a glance to begin running to the command deck. Spock notes that even under this circumstance, Admiral Marcus has yet to raise their alert signal.