Switch 27/50
Sep. 25th, 2009 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ceres_liberaTitle: "Switch" (27/50)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ceres_libera
Rating: R to NC-17
Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.
Canon: Based in the ST:XI universe, but strongly influenced by all canon ST-verses.
Characters: McCoy/Kirk, with eventual appearances by all other ST:XI characters.
Notes: Heavily epistolary, something thatjessofthebugs should like. Summer 2257, and the slow torture burn continues ... P.S. I may have underestimated how many parts are left. It may be more like five or six after this, plus a post-story vignette.
+
2257.148
Bones,
Arrived at Capella IV two days ago. No disease or danger in sight.
JTK
P.S. Yes, I know you’ll probably get this message after I’m back.
+
One of the vagaries of ship-to-planet communication that was controlled entirely by the fleet was that Ensigns-in-Training on a diplomatic mission were probably about one step above the Tribbles they used in Sickbay to calm the patients on the priority scale for comms being sent planetside. So while Jim’s messages did indeed beat Jim home, it wasn’t until he’d been gone for almost a month, and while Leo was in the midst of last minute details and disasters for the astrophobics conference that he’d been organizing, that he received the first batch of weeks-old messages from him in one large packet.
+
2257.150
Bones,
When I’m in charge, I won’t assign the trainees to gamma shift only. Not that I mind being awake at this time of ‘night’. It’s not like I’d be able to sleep with the way Gonzaga snores, anyway.
JTK
+
Leo had decided against organizing the conference solely around the issue of aviophobia after much discussion with Patty. The reality was that while a number of people feared flying, there were a lot of people who feared space itself, as well as travel through it, as Leo did. Leo and Patty had organized the conference around symposia and discussions of what worked and what didn’t for treating symptoms, with a few practical demonstrations of biofeedback and other non-pharmaceutical methodologies for treating panic. Patty had actually twisted arms – or so she claimed -- to organize a couple of flights for attendees who wished to go up into the black in a controlled environment with counselors. It was a great idea, but one which only made Leo even more grateful that he’d opted for the more exclusive controlled environment of just him and Jim, because the notion of being on a shuttle with other people who were freaking out made him more anxious. Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to take Jim’s weeks-long approach to addressing astrophobia during the five days of the conference.
”Jim, why are we eating lunch in a docked shuttle?” Leo asked tensely.
“Because you need to get used to being on them,” Jim said calmly. “I left the door open.” He handed Leo a sandwich and sat down on the floor. “C’mon, Bones,” he said, patting the deck. “Pull up some floor and I’ll tell you about my day.”
Leo still didn’t know (or really want to) how Jim had gotten access to the shuttle bay or the hangar deck, and why no one had objected to them sitting, first in the back and then at the helm, as Jim talked about the construction of the shuttle and the system failsafes for worst-case scenarios, in between bouts of ranting about the Kobayashi Maru, which he’d taken and failed. Leo was pretty sure that the Maru was the first and only test that Jim had ever failed, and he damned well didn’t like it.
”And seriously, Bones, what is the point of this test? Because even though I don’t believe in no-win scenarios, I feel like they’re programming command staff to analyze a bad situation, log it as a no-win and give up, the end. Who the fuck does that help?”
Jim was an odd mixture of patience and impatience, perfectly capable of waiting weeks until he was sure that Leo was ready to go up in the shuttle, but absolutely beside himself with the desire to re-take the Maru again and prove that the unwinnable scenario could be beaten. So far, he’d been unsuccessful in getting the Academy to agree to him re-taking the test, although Leo had no doubt that he’d wear them down eventually. After all, Jim had somehow managed to rig it so that when he deemed Leo ready, they flew several gamma shift supply runs up to the San Francisco High Naval Yard. Week after week, they went up, steering clear of the drydocks around the starships being repaired or outfitted for deep space where they might have been forced them to identify themselves visually. Leo knew that Jim had to be chafing at the literal milk runs of fresh food and supplies that they brought up to the administrative complexes, but he never said a word of complaint, just continued telling Leo exactly what he was doing and when as they went through the routine of launching, docking, unloading and relaunching.
But on the way home, Jim always took the time to orbit the planet, and it never failed to make him smile.
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2257.153
Bones,
I think it’s possible that Tellarites don’t have any kind of a sense of humor. That must suck.
JTK
+
The last few runs that they’d made up to the High, Jim had first made him fly, then made him dock the shuttle. No amount of bitching would get him to back down. He’d adopted the same expression that he’d had on his face about teaching Leo hand-to-hand. He was calm, resolute and completely, infuriatingly immovable. As he always did whenever he maneuvered the shuttle himself, Jim narrated the necessary steps to dock until Leo snapped at him, “I know what the fucking steps are, Jim!”
Jim had turned his head away, but Leo’d still wanted to whack him when he saw the indulgent smile on Jim’s face via his reflection. “Just make sure that you follow them while you’re bitching, Bones,” Jim said. “Show me that surgical precision.”
“Fuck you,” Leo groused, connecting to the dock with an easy bump.
“Good job,” Jim said, no longer even attempting to conceal his grin.
He’d been so busy being irritated with Jim that he’d totally forgotten to be panicked about the potential things that could go wrong at docking, always a safety flashpoint.
+
2257.156
Bones,
Maybe I should have let you teach me how to knit. No one on this boat really plays chess, and poker just isn’t the same without booze. Also, no one will play holo games with me anymore since I keep beating them.
Capella IV is a pretty good-looking planet, but it’s not as beautiful as Earth. I’ve had ample time to compare while we orbit around and around and around. Also, the other helmsmen aren’t scintillating conversationalists like you. Nobody’s told me to **** off once.
Disease and danger still totally in abeyance,
JTK
+
Leo couldn’t help but smile at the manner in which Jim was addressing him in his comms, as if they were still having a conversation, albeit a one-sided one. The truth was that they both had a tendency to monologue, although Leo was sure that his rant to Jim’s rambling ratio was running at about a 3:1. Still, if he never heard another word about Jim’s current obsession, beating the Kobayashi Maru, he’d be a happy man. He was sure that Jim felt the same way about his own repetitive rants about the idiocy of the command staff in Medical, and their required, duplicative, ridiculous paperwork.
+
2257.160
Bones,
You know, it may not have been the best idea to spend so much social time, if you know what I'm saying, with other Cadets. I know a few people up here, some because I’ve been so friendly, and others because they’re unfriendly. Some of the former I should have been unfriendly to, in hindsight. It's been a little weird, and we're only a little more than a week into the mission. I've got Gary Mitchell up here with me, so it's not like I have no one to hang out with.
Actually, he's not the only guy I know. I hadn't seen Riley for about ten years and didn’t immediately recognize him, but he knew who I was right away. He wants to talk a lot about old times, but you know me -- I don't like to live in the past. I think that we should fix him up with your friend Patty when we get back dirtside. I think they'd really get along.
Leo sat bolt upright in his chair and read the last few sentences over again to be sure that Jim was alluding to what he thought he was, the hum and murmur of the mess hall dimming as he did so. "Shit," he said under his breath. Patty had said, long ago, that there were other Cadets who'd been at Tarsus, hadn't she? Riley. He made a mental note of the name to look up later.
Anyway, I'm going to go run the catwalks in Engineering when I get off shift – the treadmill gets really boring after a while, and the gym is too crowded in the morning – and then try and get some sleep.
Later,
JTK
He shook his head, smiling wryly. It sounded like Jim'd decided to remain celibate for the ten weeks of the training flight, rather than risk being 'friendly' with someone new and creating more awkward encounters. The idea of Jim, who'd always had an active and varied sex life, having to keep company with his hand for that length of time was quite the picture. No wonder he was running obstacle courses in Engineering, trying to wear himself out.
"Heard from Jim lately?"
He smiled as he recognized Patty's voice, even before she leaned in to give him a one-armed hug. She sat down next to him with a yawn. "Putting the psi in psychiatrist, Patty darlin'?" he asked. "Or just reading over my shoulder?"
"There’s no need to read over your shoulder,” Patty said, putting her tray down on the table next to his. “I just have to look at your face to know that you're reading something from Jim. Can you imagine, though, what it would be like to be a psychic counselor? Knowing exactly what my patients were thinking? It would be …" Her tone was wondering, but her hand stilled holding the sweetener packets over her coffee, her sentence drifting off as she contemplated the possibility. Suddenly, her expression became horrified. "Oh my God," she said. "No. That would be a total nightmare." She shuddered. "No," she said in a firmer tone. "I'll just keep on doing it the old-fashioned way."
"Being nosy?" Leo asked, grinning at her.
"Damned straight," she said. "How's Jim?"
"Bored," Leo said. "At least three weeks ago, when he sent the comm I was reading."
"Ah," she said, adding fruit to her yogurt, "the glamour of shipboard life." She looked at Leo. "I can't believe that you're going up there … willingly."
Leo shrugged. "I'm working on it."
"Oh, please," she said. "Your one-on-one sessions with Jim have done wonders for you. And I just bet," she said sweetly, "that if it got more one-on-one, it would be even better."
Leo ignored her, as he usually did. "He was asking after you in the comm I was last reading."
"He was not," she said indignantly. "I can't even believe that you've stooped so low as to try and change the subject using such a blatant lie."
"Not lying, darlin'," Leo said, swirling the dregs of his coffee and considering getting up for another cup. "One of the other Cadets aboard was on Tarsus with him, and he said that he thought we should fix this kid up with you when he gets back dirtside."
Patty’s eyes shot up to Leo’s. “You never told me that you'd discussed Tarsus.”
Leo flushed a bit, but kept his voice level. “We haven’t spoken about it in detail, but he knows that I know about it, and he's told me a few things here and there.”
“And I’m being very nosy, aren’t I?” She said shrewdly. “You clearly don’t want to break his confidence, and I won’t push anymore. But I will say that I’m really surprised that he’d want to refer this Cadet to me. He’s never been my biggest fan.”
Leo shrugged. “He knows that I respect you professionally,” he said.
Patty’s green eyes twinkled at him from over the rim of her cup. “And that’s all he needs to know, isn’t it?” she asked.
Leo rolled his eyes. “How’s Rachel?”
Patty set her cup down on the table. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she said lightly.
Leo looked at Patty with sympathy.
“No need for the big eyes, Len,” she said with a sad smile. “It was a mutual decision, really.” She shrugged. “She was perfectly nice, and perfectly amiable, and …”
“You just weren’t connecting,” Leo said diplomatically, although what he was thinking was perfectly boring. He’d found Rachel to be a bit colorless, especially when compared to Patty's warm vivacity.
“No,” Patty admitted. “Maybe I was looking for something a little less dramatic than my last two relationships,” she said mischievously.
“I resent being referred to as a Drama Queen,” Leo said with outsized indignation.
Patty laughed. “You have to admit, though, that it would make for a dramatic subplot in a movie, the two of us clinging to each other because we couldn’t have what we wanted,” she reached over and covered Leo’s hand with hers. “Did I ever say thank you?”
Leo shot her an amused but chiding glance. “I don’t know if you exactly said it,” Leo drawled, picking up her hand and kissing her knuckles, “but I might have heard a thanks a time or two in some form or another.” He was rewarded with the pretty pink blush on Patty’s cheek, and the return of the twinkle to her eyes. Rachel might not have been a great love of Patty’s, but nobody liked to fail at a relationship.
“You are incorrigible,” Patty said.
“I come by it naturally,” Leo assured her.
+
2257.163
Bones!
I found the first two volumes of Horatio’s journals in my duffel. I can’t believe you sent them up here with me. And I know -- you can’t believe that it took me this long to look through my bag.
Thanks,
JTK
+
“Dr. McCoy?”
Leo was pacing back in forth in front of the fleet Hospital, waiting for Patty. They were heading over to their last meeting with the event planner. Conferees were expected to begin arriving in the next twelve hours, and although everything that could have done had been, Leo couldn’t help but be anxious. The conference had ended up drawing a lot more attendees and scrutiny than he’d ever imagined it would. “Cadet Uhura,” he said in surprise. “I’m not on duty at the moment, but can I help you with something?”
Uhura’s warm smile transformed her often severe expression and revealed her loveliness. “You’re very kind,” she said, tilting her head, her long ponytail shifting behind her. “And brave, I think.”
Leo looked at her in puzzlement.
“I wanted to wish you luck with the conference tomorrow,” she said. “The first time I saw you was on the shuttle from Riverside, and as I recall, that was less than a pleasant experience for you.”
“Your career in diplomacy will be long and distinguished, Cadet Uhura,” Leo said, with a smile. “Less than pleasant, while apt, is certainly one way of putting it. Horrific might be another.”
Uhura’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Maybe it was your seat companion?”
Leo wagged a finger at her. “You’re as bad as he is, Uhura.”
“I certainly hope not!” she said, still smiling. “I think that maybe you could teach him a little bit about true bravery. I think that it’s wonderful that you’re facing your fear in a constructive way.”
“Actually,” Leo said, “a wise young man told me that confronting the thing that one is most afraid of is what one has to do.”
Uhura quirked an eyebrow. “I find that a little hard to believe, Dr. McCoy,” she said.
“Leonard,” he said. “And the truth is, you don’t really know him at all.”
She considered his statement, arms crossed in front of her. “Your loyalty is also commendable,” she said softly. “I hope he appreciates that, Leonard.”
“I remind him at regular intervals,” Leo rejoined.
Uhura laughed, her musical voice climbing up the scale in delight. “My name is Nyota,” she said. “I trust that we can keep that between ourselves?”
“Definitely,” Leo said, waving at Patty as she came out of the building, looking harried. “It’ll make it all the sweeter someday when he finds out that not only do I know it, I’m allowed to use it.”
Uhura laughed again, and patted him on the arm. “Good luck with the conference, Leonard,” she said.
“Thank you, Nyota darlin’,” Leo said.
+
2257.176
Bones,
Horatio's journals are amazing. They make me wish that I'd been keeping a real journal this whole time. I suppose I should get in the habit, as keeping a personal log is something that you're supposed to do, aside from the ship's log. I was able to find the plans of the 'ship that Horatio was on, and comparatively speaking, the Farragut is the lap of luxury. I'm bunking in with three other guys and that's crowded enough. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in an eight, crammed on top of each other the way they were. The bunkhouse I'm in has two berths on each wall and a desk at the end. If you want to sit at one of them, though, the other one has to be unoccupied, which never happens, since we're all on gamma. Mitchell and I are on one side of the room and Gonzaga (who snores like a beast, Bones) is on the bottom bunk on the other side, with Wiszniewski on the top. I have no idea how Wiz sleeps through Gonzaga snoring up at him all night. I swear that he's vibrating in the bunk sometimes.
I've totally given up trying to sleep through alpha because of this. Most mornings, I get off shift, go for a run through Engineering and then clean up and hit the mess for my dinner. Pancakes for dinner are weird, but good, by the way. Halfway through alpha, I go to the smallest forward observation deck with Horatio's journals and read until I fall asleep. I usually make it through to shift change undisturbed, then go back to the bunkhouse and catch some more zs if Gonzaga is gone, or spar with Gary, or just hang out until it's time for my shift. There's not much else to do. The mission is still going on, and I get the impression that the negotiations aren't going all that well. Commander Ameixoeira, the XO, hasn't gone planetside for the past couple of weeks. The scuttlebutt says that the Capellans are still so sex-segregated that they rejected the idea of a woman in command, even one who could fight and win in ritual combat. She seems pretty pissed off, and I can't say I blame her. I've heard that some of the Orion women in the diplomatic corps have been similarly excluded, but the grunts don't see them like we see Ameixoeira every fourth shift. Even Garrovick takes gamma, which isn't something I thought the Captain would do, but he says it's important that the Captain be visible to all members of the staff. It's always much more interesting when he's in the chair.
Speaking of Orions, it never really occurred to me that Gaila is one of the first Orions in the Academy. Most of the crew on the ship have never seen an Orion before. Mitchell told some people about Gaila and me, and the comments and the questions since then have really p&ssed me off. I don’t expect people not to be ignorant, but I do expect them not to be a$$hole$ about someone who is our classmate and going to be a member of the 'fleet. (Sorry for the stupid text thing, but did you know that they still redact swearing and sh*t? I didn’t.) Anyway. You know me, Bones, I’m not one to shy away from bragging, but I totally do not name names if I tell a story – I may not be a Southern gentlemen like you, but I’m not a pig. Well. Not a total pig. I'm just plain refusing to answer questions about her, and I told Mitchell he's a d*ck for bringing it up in the first place. Don't worry, I'm not going to end up in the brig -- I'm keeping my hands to myself, but let's just say that the list I started with your buddy Lieutenant Spencer's name on it has gotten substantially longer.
Last time he was on gamma, Garrovick said that we might get to go planetside on Kohath, which is what the Capellans call their planet. There's a whole list of things we can't do, however, some of which involve fruit. This makes me irritated. I miss fruit, Bones. Replicated apples taste like cr@p.
I'm putting fresh fruit on the other list that I keep,
JTK
+
“Leo! There you are!” The exasperated tone in Gram’s voice was mitigated by the ever-present affection.
“It’s not like I’ve been avoiding you, Gram,” Leo said. “I told you that I was flat out until I got the conference out of the way.”
“Which ended more than a week ago,” Gram chided, appearing to study him through her viewscreen.
“And I had to make up shifts for the colleagues who covered me,” Leo said, “as I said in my e-mail back to you.”
“Yes, yes,” Gram said. “Your very informative e-mail in which you still managed not to answer me about your plans for your birthday.” She raised her eyebrow. “It’s not every day a man turns 30,” she said.
"What's the big deal?" Leo groused.
Gram's expression was severe. "The big deal, Leo, is that I might not be around for your 40th, or your 50th, so I'd like to celebrate your 30th with you."
"Gram," Leo said in an aggrieved tone, "that is really hitting below the belt."
"Not when you're staring down the barrel of 90, it's not," she said pertly. "Madisons don't live as long as McCoys do."
Leo sighed, rubbing at the skin between his brows. "Ted …" he began –
"Will not be home," Gram said firmly. "He's going offworld in three weeks to meet with some of those breeders up in the Centauri system, and he won't be back until well into September. Surely you can get someone in the hospital to cover you for a couple of days so that you can come back home and spend some time with your old Gram?" She batted her eyelashes at Leo as she said this, stooping her back to make herself look more elderly.
He groaned in response. "No surprise party," he said firmly.
Gram frowned. "I wasn't planning one," she said. "Although it would be nice if you saw some of your cousins while you were here. But we are celebrating your birthday, boy – I have particular reason to be happy that you're here for this one."
Leo stared at his grandmother, who stared determinedly back at him. "I'm fine, Gram," he said softly.
She sniffed. "Get your ass on a shuttle next month and prove it," she said.
Leo sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to win this argument. "I'll see what I can do," he said.
"Your birthday's on a Sunday," Gram said. "So you'll need to stay longer than the weekend."
"Gram …" Leo protested.
"Don't Gram me," she said. "You haven't been home in more than a year. I want more than two days. And where is Jim? I got his offworld notice when I commed him."
Leo sat up straight in his chair. "Why," he said, with perfect Southern emphasis, "were you comming Jim?"
"Don't you take that tone with me, Leonard Horatio," Gram said. "Last time you were avoiding my calls, Jim was the one who knew what was going on," she paused. "I may have been a little worried," she admitted. "Besides, Jim and I speak from time to time. He," she added severely, "writes lovely thank you notes."
Leo rolled his eyes. "Jim's on a training run for the summer being a junior helmsman, although he prefers to think of it as Captain-in-Training." Gram smiled at his words. "He's supposed to be back sometime in the next month, too. And by the way," he said. "Classes are back in session the Wednesday after my birthday, so …"
"The shuttle can get you back to San Francisco in a snap," Gram said. "And don't try and tell me that you haven't got all your classes already picked out, and the lecture written for the one that you're teaching."
Goddamnit, he thought silently. He was totally sunk.
"I'll expect you no later than the 20th then," Gram said. "G'night, Leo."
She disappeared before he could argue with her.
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2257.181
Bones,
Please tell me that your great-grandmother’s name was Susannah. I don’t think I could stand it otherwise.
JTK
+
Switch 28/
Author:
ceres_liberaRating: R to NC-17
Summary: The life and times of Leonard H. McCoy MD/PhD … If Leonard McCoy's life could get any fucking weirder, it would be … Jesus, he didn't even want to think what that could possibly mean, because it's already been too fucking weird to make any kind of rational sense.
Canon: Based in the ST:XI universe, but strongly influenced by all canon ST-verses.
Characters: McCoy/Kirk, with eventual appearances by all other ST:XI characters.
Notes: Heavily epistolary, something that
jessofthebugs should like. Summer 2257, and the slow +
2257.148
Bones,
Arrived at Capella IV two days ago. No disease or danger in sight.
JTK
P.S. Yes, I know you’ll probably get this message after I’m back.
+
One of the vagaries of ship-to-planet communication that was controlled entirely by the fleet was that Ensigns-in-Training on a diplomatic mission were probably about one step above the Tribbles they used in Sickbay to calm the patients on the priority scale for comms being sent planetside. So while Jim’s messages did indeed beat Jim home, it wasn’t until he’d been gone for almost a month, and while Leo was in the midst of last minute details and disasters for the astrophobics conference that he’d been organizing, that he received the first batch of weeks-old messages from him in one large packet.
+
2257.150
Bones,
When I’m in charge, I won’t assign the trainees to gamma shift only. Not that I mind being awake at this time of ‘night’. It’s not like I’d be able to sleep with the way Gonzaga snores, anyway.
JTK
+
Leo had decided against organizing the conference solely around the issue of aviophobia after much discussion with Patty. The reality was that while a number of people feared flying, there were a lot of people who feared space itself, as well as travel through it, as Leo did. Leo and Patty had organized the conference around symposia and discussions of what worked and what didn’t for treating symptoms, with a few practical demonstrations of biofeedback and other non-pharmaceutical methodologies for treating panic. Patty had actually twisted arms – or so she claimed -- to organize a couple of flights for attendees who wished to go up into the black in a controlled environment with counselors. It was a great idea, but one which only made Leo even more grateful that he’d opted for the more exclusive controlled environment of just him and Jim, because the notion of being on a shuttle with other people who were freaking out made him more anxious. Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to take Jim’s weeks-long approach to addressing astrophobia during the five days of the conference.
”Jim, why are we eating lunch in a docked shuttle?” Leo asked tensely.
“Because you need to get used to being on them,” Jim said calmly. “I left the door open.” He handed Leo a sandwich and sat down on the floor. “C’mon, Bones,” he said, patting the deck. “Pull up some floor and I’ll tell you about my day.”
Leo still didn’t know (or really want to) how Jim had gotten access to the shuttle bay or the hangar deck, and why no one had objected to them sitting, first in the back and then at the helm, as Jim talked about the construction of the shuttle and the system failsafes for worst-case scenarios, in between bouts of ranting about the Kobayashi Maru, which he’d taken and failed. Leo was pretty sure that the Maru was the first and only test that Jim had ever failed, and he damned well didn’t like it.
”And seriously, Bones, what is the point of this test? Because even though I don’t believe in no-win scenarios, I feel like they’re programming command staff to analyze a bad situation, log it as a no-win and give up, the end. Who the fuck does that help?”
Jim was an odd mixture of patience and impatience, perfectly capable of waiting weeks until he was sure that Leo was ready to go up in the shuttle, but absolutely beside himself with the desire to re-take the Maru again and prove that the unwinnable scenario could be beaten. So far, he’d been unsuccessful in getting the Academy to agree to him re-taking the test, although Leo had no doubt that he’d wear them down eventually. After all, Jim had somehow managed to rig it so that when he deemed Leo ready, they flew several gamma shift supply runs up to the San Francisco High Naval Yard. Week after week, they went up, steering clear of the drydocks around the starships being repaired or outfitted for deep space where they might have been forced them to identify themselves visually. Leo knew that Jim had to be chafing at the literal milk runs of fresh food and supplies that they brought up to the administrative complexes, but he never said a word of complaint, just continued telling Leo exactly what he was doing and when as they went through the routine of launching, docking, unloading and relaunching.
But on the way home, Jim always took the time to orbit the planet, and it never failed to make him smile.
+
2257.153
Bones,
I think it’s possible that Tellarites don’t have any kind of a sense of humor. That must suck.
JTK
+
The last few runs that they’d made up to the High, Jim had first made him fly, then made him dock the shuttle. No amount of bitching would get him to back down. He’d adopted the same expression that he’d had on his face about teaching Leo hand-to-hand. He was calm, resolute and completely, infuriatingly immovable. As he always did whenever he maneuvered the shuttle himself, Jim narrated the necessary steps to dock until Leo snapped at him, “I know what the fucking steps are, Jim!”
Jim had turned his head away, but Leo’d still wanted to whack him when he saw the indulgent smile on Jim’s face via his reflection. “Just make sure that you follow them while you’re bitching, Bones,” Jim said. “Show me that surgical precision.”
“Fuck you,” Leo groused, connecting to the dock with an easy bump.
“Good job,” Jim said, no longer even attempting to conceal his grin.
He’d been so busy being irritated with Jim that he’d totally forgotten to be panicked about the potential things that could go wrong at docking, always a safety flashpoint.
+
2257.156
Bones,
Maybe I should have let you teach me how to knit. No one on this boat really plays chess, and poker just isn’t the same without booze. Also, no one will play holo games with me anymore since I keep beating them.
Capella IV is a pretty good-looking planet, but it’s not as beautiful as Earth. I’ve had ample time to compare while we orbit around and around and around. Also, the other helmsmen aren’t scintillating conversationalists like you. Nobody’s told me to **** off once.
Disease and danger still totally in abeyance,
JTK
+
Leo couldn’t help but smile at the manner in which Jim was addressing him in his comms, as if they were still having a conversation, albeit a one-sided one. The truth was that they both had a tendency to monologue, although Leo was sure that his rant to Jim’s rambling ratio was running at about a 3:1. Still, if he never heard another word about Jim’s current obsession, beating the Kobayashi Maru, he’d be a happy man. He was sure that Jim felt the same way about his own repetitive rants about the idiocy of the command staff in Medical, and their required, duplicative, ridiculous paperwork.
+
2257.160
Bones,
You know, it may not have been the best idea to spend so much social time, if you know what I'm saying, with other Cadets. I know a few people up here, some because I’ve been so friendly, and others because they’re unfriendly. Some of the former I should have been unfriendly to, in hindsight. It's been a little weird, and we're only a little more than a week into the mission. I've got Gary Mitchell up here with me, so it's not like I have no one to hang out with.
Actually, he's not the only guy I know. I hadn't seen Riley for about ten years and didn’t immediately recognize him, but he knew who I was right away. He wants to talk a lot about old times, but you know me -- I don't like to live in the past. I think that we should fix him up with your friend Patty when we get back dirtside. I think they'd really get along.
Leo sat bolt upright in his chair and read the last few sentences over again to be sure that Jim was alluding to what he thought he was, the hum and murmur of the mess hall dimming as he did so. "Shit," he said under his breath. Patty had said, long ago, that there were other Cadets who'd been at Tarsus, hadn't she? Riley. He made a mental note of the name to look up later.
Anyway, I'm going to go run the catwalks in Engineering when I get off shift – the treadmill gets really boring after a while, and the gym is too crowded in the morning – and then try and get some sleep.
Later,
JTK
He shook his head, smiling wryly. It sounded like Jim'd decided to remain celibate for the ten weeks of the training flight, rather than risk being 'friendly' with someone new and creating more awkward encounters. The idea of Jim, who'd always had an active and varied sex life, having to keep company with his hand for that length of time was quite the picture. No wonder he was running obstacle courses in Engineering, trying to wear himself out.
"Heard from Jim lately?"
He smiled as he recognized Patty's voice, even before she leaned in to give him a one-armed hug. She sat down next to him with a yawn. "Putting the psi in psychiatrist, Patty darlin'?" he asked. "Or just reading over my shoulder?"
"There’s no need to read over your shoulder,” Patty said, putting her tray down on the table next to his. “I just have to look at your face to know that you're reading something from Jim. Can you imagine, though, what it would be like to be a psychic counselor? Knowing exactly what my patients were thinking? It would be …" Her tone was wondering, but her hand stilled holding the sweetener packets over her coffee, her sentence drifting off as she contemplated the possibility. Suddenly, her expression became horrified. "Oh my God," she said. "No. That would be a total nightmare." She shuddered. "No," she said in a firmer tone. "I'll just keep on doing it the old-fashioned way."
"Being nosy?" Leo asked, grinning at her.
"Damned straight," she said. "How's Jim?"
"Bored," Leo said. "At least three weeks ago, when he sent the comm I was reading."
"Ah," she said, adding fruit to her yogurt, "the glamour of shipboard life." She looked at Leo. "I can't believe that you're going up there … willingly."
Leo shrugged. "I'm working on it."
"Oh, please," she said. "Your one-on-one sessions with Jim have done wonders for you. And I just bet," she said sweetly, "that if it got more one-on-one, it would be even better."
Leo ignored her, as he usually did. "He was asking after you in the comm I was last reading."
"He was not," she said indignantly. "I can't even believe that you've stooped so low as to try and change the subject using such a blatant lie."
"Not lying, darlin'," Leo said, swirling the dregs of his coffee and considering getting up for another cup. "One of the other Cadets aboard was on Tarsus with him, and he said that he thought we should fix this kid up with you when he gets back dirtside."
Patty’s eyes shot up to Leo’s. “You never told me that you'd discussed Tarsus.”
Leo flushed a bit, but kept his voice level. “We haven’t spoken about it in detail, but he knows that I know about it, and he's told me a few things here and there.”
“And I’m being very nosy, aren’t I?” She said shrewdly. “You clearly don’t want to break his confidence, and I won’t push anymore. But I will say that I’m really surprised that he’d want to refer this Cadet to me. He’s never been my biggest fan.”
Leo shrugged. “He knows that I respect you professionally,” he said.
Patty’s green eyes twinkled at him from over the rim of her cup. “And that’s all he needs to know, isn’t it?” she asked.
Leo rolled his eyes. “How’s Rachel?”
Patty set her cup down on the table. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she said lightly.
Leo looked at Patty with sympathy.
“No need for the big eyes, Len,” she said with a sad smile. “It was a mutual decision, really.” She shrugged. “She was perfectly nice, and perfectly amiable, and …”
“You just weren’t connecting,” Leo said diplomatically, although what he was thinking was perfectly boring. He’d found Rachel to be a bit colorless, especially when compared to Patty's warm vivacity.
“No,” Patty admitted. “Maybe I was looking for something a little less dramatic than my last two relationships,” she said mischievously.
“I resent being referred to as a Drama Queen,” Leo said with outsized indignation.
Patty laughed. “You have to admit, though, that it would make for a dramatic subplot in a movie, the two of us clinging to each other because we couldn’t have what we wanted,” she reached over and covered Leo’s hand with hers. “Did I ever say thank you?”
Leo shot her an amused but chiding glance. “I don’t know if you exactly said it,” Leo drawled, picking up her hand and kissing her knuckles, “but I might have heard a thanks a time or two in some form or another.” He was rewarded with the pretty pink blush on Patty’s cheek, and the return of the twinkle to her eyes. Rachel might not have been a great love of Patty’s, but nobody liked to fail at a relationship.
“You are incorrigible,” Patty said.
“I come by it naturally,” Leo assured her.
+
2257.163
Bones!
I found the first two volumes of Horatio’s journals in my duffel. I can’t believe you sent them up here with me. And I know -- you can’t believe that it took me this long to look through my bag.
Thanks,
JTK
+
“Dr. McCoy?”
Leo was pacing back in forth in front of the fleet Hospital, waiting for Patty. They were heading over to their last meeting with the event planner. Conferees were expected to begin arriving in the next twelve hours, and although everything that could have done had been, Leo couldn’t help but be anxious. The conference had ended up drawing a lot more attendees and scrutiny than he’d ever imagined it would. “Cadet Uhura,” he said in surprise. “I’m not on duty at the moment, but can I help you with something?”
Uhura’s warm smile transformed her often severe expression and revealed her loveliness. “You’re very kind,” she said, tilting her head, her long ponytail shifting behind her. “And brave, I think.”
Leo looked at her in puzzlement.
“I wanted to wish you luck with the conference tomorrow,” she said. “The first time I saw you was on the shuttle from Riverside, and as I recall, that was less than a pleasant experience for you.”
“Your career in diplomacy will be long and distinguished, Cadet Uhura,” Leo said, with a smile. “Less than pleasant, while apt, is certainly one way of putting it. Horrific might be another.”
Uhura’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Maybe it was your seat companion?”
Leo wagged a finger at her. “You’re as bad as he is, Uhura.”
“I certainly hope not!” she said, still smiling. “I think that maybe you could teach him a little bit about true bravery. I think that it’s wonderful that you’re facing your fear in a constructive way.”
“Actually,” Leo said, “a wise young man told me that confronting the thing that one is most afraid of is what one has to do.”
Uhura quirked an eyebrow. “I find that a little hard to believe, Dr. McCoy,” she said.
“Leonard,” he said. “And the truth is, you don’t really know him at all.”
She considered his statement, arms crossed in front of her. “Your loyalty is also commendable,” she said softly. “I hope he appreciates that, Leonard.”
“I remind him at regular intervals,” Leo rejoined.
Uhura laughed, her musical voice climbing up the scale in delight. “My name is Nyota,” she said. “I trust that we can keep that between ourselves?”
“Definitely,” Leo said, waving at Patty as she came out of the building, looking harried. “It’ll make it all the sweeter someday when he finds out that not only do I know it, I’m allowed to use it.”
Uhura laughed again, and patted him on the arm. “Good luck with the conference, Leonard,” she said.
“Thank you, Nyota darlin’,” Leo said.
+
2257.176
Bones,
Horatio's journals are amazing. They make me wish that I'd been keeping a real journal this whole time. I suppose I should get in the habit, as keeping a personal log is something that you're supposed to do, aside from the ship's log. I was able to find the plans of the 'ship that Horatio was on, and comparatively speaking, the Farragut is the lap of luxury. I'm bunking in with three other guys and that's crowded enough. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be in an eight, crammed on top of each other the way they were. The bunkhouse I'm in has two berths on each wall and a desk at the end. If you want to sit at one of them, though, the other one has to be unoccupied, which never happens, since we're all on gamma. Mitchell and I are on one side of the room and Gonzaga (who snores like a beast, Bones) is on the bottom bunk on the other side, with Wiszniewski on the top. I have no idea how Wiz sleeps through Gonzaga snoring up at him all night. I swear that he's vibrating in the bunk sometimes.
I've totally given up trying to sleep through alpha because of this. Most mornings, I get off shift, go for a run through Engineering and then clean up and hit the mess for my dinner. Pancakes for dinner are weird, but good, by the way. Halfway through alpha, I go to the smallest forward observation deck with Horatio's journals and read until I fall asleep. I usually make it through to shift change undisturbed, then go back to the bunkhouse and catch some more zs if Gonzaga is gone, or spar with Gary, or just hang out until it's time for my shift. There's not much else to do. The mission is still going on, and I get the impression that the negotiations aren't going all that well. Commander Ameixoeira, the XO, hasn't gone planetside for the past couple of weeks. The scuttlebutt says that the Capellans are still so sex-segregated that they rejected the idea of a woman in command, even one who could fight and win in ritual combat. She seems pretty pissed off, and I can't say I blame her. I've heard that some of the Orion women in the diplomatic corps have been similarly excluded, but the grunts don't see them like we see Ameixoeira every fourth shift. Even Garrovick takes gamma, which isn't something I thought the Captain would do, but he says it's important that the Captain be visible to all members of the staff. It's always much more interesting when he's in the chair.
Speaking of Orions, it never really occurred to me that Gaila is one of the first Orions in the Academy. Most of the crew on the ship have never seen an Orion before. Mitchell told some people about Gaila and me, and the comments and the questions since then have really p&ssed me off. I don’t expect people not to be ignorant, but I do expect them not to be a$$hole$ about someone who is our classmate and going to be a member of the 'fleet. (Sorry for the stupid text thing, but did you know that they still redact swearing and sh*t? I didn’t.) Anyway. You know me, Bones, I’m not one to shy away from bragging, but I totally do not name names if I tell a story – I may not be a Southern gentlemen like you, but I’m not a pig. Well. Not a total pig. I'm just plain refusing to answer questions about her, and I told Mitchell he's a d*ck for bringing it up in the first place. Don't worry, I'm not going to end up in the brig -- I'm keeping my hands to myself, but let's just say that the list I started with your buddy Lieutenant Spencer's name on it has gotten substantially longer.
Last time he was on gamma, Garrovick said that we might get to go planetside on Kohath, which is what the Capellans call their planet. There's a whole list of things we can't do, however, some of which involve fruit. This makes me irritated. I miss fruit, Bones. Replicated apples taste like cr@p.
I'm putting fresh fruit on the other list that I keep,
JTK
+
“Leo! There you are!” The exasperated tone in Gram’s voice was mitigated by the ever-present affection.
“It’s not like I’ve been avoiding you, Gram,” Leo said. “I told you that I was flat out until I got the conference out of the way.”
“Which ended more than a week ago,” Gram chided, appearing to study him through her viewscreen.
“And I had to make up shifts for the colleagues who covered me,” Leo said, “as I said in my e-mail back to you.”
“Yes, yes,” Gram said. “Your very informative e-mail in which you still managed not to answer me about your plans for your birthday.” She raised her eyebrow. “It’s not every day a man turns 30,” she said.
"What's the big deal?" Leo groused.
Gram's expression was severe. "The big deal, Leo, is that I might not be around for your 40th, or your 50th, so I'd like to celebrate your 30th with you."
"Gram," Leo said in an aggrieved tone, "that is really hitting below the belt."
"Not when you're staring down the barrel of 90, it's not," she said pertly. "Madisons don't live as long as McCoys do."
Leo sighed, rubbing at the skin between his brows. "Ted …" he began –
"Will not be home," Gram said firmly. "He's going offworld in three weeks to meet with some of those breeders up in the Centauri system, and he won't be back until well into September. Surely you can get someone in the hospital to cover you for a couple of days so that you can come back home and spend some time with your old Gram?" She batted her eyelashes at Leo as she said this, stooping her back to make herself look more elderly.
He groaned in response. "No surprise party," he said firmly.
Gram frowned. "I wasn't planning one," she said. "Although it would be nice if you saw some of your cousins while you were here. But we are celebrating your birthday, boy – I have particular reason to be happy that you're here for this one."
Leo stared at his grandmother, who stared determinedly back at him. "I'm fine, Gram," he said softly.
She sniffed. "Get your ass on a shuttle next month and prove it," she said.
Leo sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to win this argument. "I'll see what I can do," he said.
"Your birthday's on a Sunday," Gram said. "So you'll need to stay longer than the weekend."
"Gram …" Leo protested.
"Don't Gram me," she said. "You haven't been home in more than a year. I want more than two days. And where is Jim? I got his offworld notice when I commed him."
Leo sat up straight in his chair. "Why," he said, with perfect Southern emphasis, "were you comming Jim?"
"Don't you take that tone with me, Leonard Horatio," Gram said. "Last time you were avoiding my calls, Jim was the one who knew what was going on," she paused. "I may have been a little worried," she admitted. "Besides, Jim and I speak from time to time. He," she added severely, "writes lovely thank you notes."
Leo rolled his eyes. "Jim's on a training run for the summer being a junior helmsman, although he prefers to think of it as Captain-in-Training." Gram smiled at his words. "He's supposed to be back sometime in the next month, too. And by the way," he said. "Classes are back in session the Wednesday after my birthday, so …"
"The shuttle can get you back to San Francisco in a snap," Gram said. "And don't try and tell me that you haven't got all your classes already picked out, and the lecture written for the one that you're teaching."
Goddamnit, he thought silently. He was totally sunk.
"I'll expect you no later than the 20th then," Gram said. "G'night, Leo."
She disappeared before he could argue with her.
+
2257.181
Bones,
Please tell me that your great-grandmother’s name was Susannah. I don’t think I could stand it otherwise.
JTK
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