Crucible: McCoy

by David R. George III

  This time, McCoy knew, it was right, it was real, it was unencumbered. He gazed over at Tonia and knew that she was the one. This time, it would last.

  Fifty-Five

  2364/2366

  Barrows peered through the windows of their guest cabin and spied her own reflection: her aging, lined features, her short, blonde hair liberally interspersed with gray. The years go by so fast, she thought, not for the first time. Refocusing her eyes, she looked out at the orange-brown globe of Deneb IV about which they orbited. She leaned in over the sofa and craned her neck, looking off to her right. She felt a twinge of pain in the back of her neck, nothing too bad—or at least nothing to which she hadn’t become accustomed. She stood back up and reached to rub her nape.

  “Are you all right, honey?” Leonard asked from where he sat across the room. She smiled at the sound of his words, his southern accent thickening with the years.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” Barrows said. “Just a little touch of age. Nothing that doesn’t come with being a hundred and twenty-nine years old.”

  “Hah,” Leonard grumbled. “You’re a mere child. I robbed the cradle when I married you.”

  Barrows turned around and regarded him, surprised again—as she’d continued to be throughout their voyage—at the size of their cabin. “What you stole, Leonard McCoy,” she said as she walked over to him, “was my heart.” She leaned on the arms of the chair in which Leonard sat and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Prettiest girl in four quadrants,” Leonard said. “Not much debate about hitching my wagon to you.”

  “After all these years, you’re still sweet-talking me,” Barrows said. “If you’re not careful, I might just decide to stay with you.”

  “I’d be the luckiest man in the universe,” Leonard said.

  “And don’t you forget it,” Barrows joked. She wandered back across the cabin toward the window again. “I don’t remember my quarters on the Enterprise or the Gödel being half or even a third this size.”

  “That’s because they weren’t,” Leonard asserted. “Damned starships are like resorts these days. I don’t know how any crews get anything done.”

  “Oh,” Barrows said, bending over the sofa again. “You’re becoming a curmudgeon in your old age.” She gazed out the window again, first right, then left. In the distance, she saw the shape for which she’d been looking.

  “Yes, well, I’ve earned the right to become whatever I want,” he said.

  “Yes, you have,” Barrows said, going back across the room to stand beside Leonard. “And being married to me for sixty-five years, you’ve also earned the present I’m about to give you.”

  “What?” Leonard said. “I thought this—” He waved his arms about, obviously intending all of the U.S.S. Hood. “—was my present.”

  “Not quite,” Barrows said. Last month, she and Leonard had celebrated their wedding anniversary with a catered party at their home in Atlanta. Afterward, she’d given Leonard her gift: a sixty-five-day tour aboard an Excelsior-class starship that she’d arranged with Starfleet Command. But that had been only a cover for her real gift. “Let me show you what I actually got for you,” she said, and she moved over to the monitor set into the nearby bulkhead. “Computer,” she said, “would you show me an image of the other starship orbiting Deneb Four right now?”

  “Affirmative.” The display winked and then a view of space appeared on it, an arc of the planet in the lower right corner and an unidentifiable shape in the center.

  “Maximum magnification,” Barrows ordered. Again, the screen shifted, this time leaving the shape that filled it clearly visible.

  “What—what is that?” Leonard said, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet. He moved a good deal more slowly these days, and as much as she complained to herself about her own aches and pains, she knew that he felt his years far more than she did. His hair had gone completely white and had now thinned considerably. He did less and less research these days, and even though he retained his admiralty in Starfleet, he did little duty beyond giving an occasional lecture.

  “That, my dear,” she said as he lifted a hand to her waist, “is the Galaxy-class U.S.S. Enterprise, newly launched and just beginning her mission.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Leonard said. “That’s the Enterprise?”

  “Indeed it is,” Barrows said. She knew that after the destruction of NCC-1701-C twenty years ago at the Battle of Narendra III, Starfleet had chosen not to rename any of their existing ships and to give the name a rest. When she’d recently heard that Command had decided to resurrect it for the first Galaxy-class vessel constructed after the prototype, she’d been pleased, and it had also given her this idea for an anniversary gift for Leonard. “I’ve arranged with Starfleet Command for you to tour the Enterprise’s medical facilities.”

  Leonard looked at her. “You’re so thoughtful,” he said.

  “It’s easy to be when you’re in love,” she said, and she leaned forward and kissed him again. As she did, a tone sounded in the cabin, followed by the voice of the ship’s new first officer, replacing the man transferring to the Enterprise.

  “Bridge to Doctor Barrows,” Robitaille said.

  “This is Barrows,” she responded.

  “Doctor, you asked me to notify you when the other starship was ready for your tour,” the lieutenant commander said. Aware of Barrows’s surprise for her husband, Robitaille obviously didn’t want to reveal anything.

  “We’ve seen the Enterprise,” Barrows said, “and I’ve told Admiral McCoy about his tour.”

  “Very good,” Robitaille said. “The Enterprise is prepared to send a shuttlecraft whenever you’re ready.”

  Barrows looked at Leonard. “So what do you think, Admiral?” she asked.

  Leonard laughed. “I think I’m ready,” he said.

  “Commander Robitaille, I’m going to escort my husband down to the hangar deck right now,” Barrows said.

  “Acknowledged,” said the first officer. “I’ll inform the Enterprise. Robitaille out.”

  “Shall we?” Barrows said, taking Leonard’s arm.

  Together, they headed to the Hood’s aft section, to the great expanse of the hangar. They watched from the observation lounge as an Enterprise shuttle, Galileo, landed. Barrows walked with her husband out to the craft, where she kissed him before he climbed aboard. After that, she made her way back to the observation lounge to watch the shuttle carry Leonard to his anniversary gift.

  She couldn’t wait to hear about his visit to the great ship.

  “And here we have the primary sickbay ward,” the nurse said as the doors parted. With no sign whatsoever of impatience, she waited on the threshold as McCoy followed slowly along. As much as he enjoyed playing the role of curmudgeon, as Tonia had said, he’d found no reason at all to do so with the young ensign. Throughout the long day, Nurse Temple had been a notably gracious tour guide, ferrying him from the hangar bay to the bridge, from engineering to the holodeck, from Ten-Forward to the secondary medical facilities, and finally to here, the main sickbay.

  McCoy examined the layout of the compartment and saw what appeared to be a surgical table in the center of the space. A wide frame arced over the main bed and appeared to support a cluster of instruments. “What’ve we got here?” he asked.

  Temple pointed out the various functions of the frame—which included the projection of various force fields, as well as the monitoring of physiological readings—and then showed him the large viewscreen nearby that permitted detailed and variegated observations of a surgical patient. Overall, McCoy found the new design and new apparatus impressive.

  When they’d finished there, Temple turned toward the row of diagnostic pallets that stood against the far bulkhead. Before she could begin to discuss them, though, the doors to the corridor slid open and a woman entered. Tall and lean, she wore a blue sciences uniform and had long red hair. “Oh, hello,” she said, walking over to McCoy and Temple. She looked questioningly at the
nurse for a moment, clearly not knowing who McCoy was. “I’m Doctor Beverly Crusher,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Doctor Leonard McCoy,” he said, taking her hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Wait,” Crusher said. “Leonard McCoy?” She seemed to peer more closely at the sweater he had on and at the admiral’s insignia on his shoulders. “As in the co-discoverer of chronometric particles and chronitons? As in the winner of the Zee-Magnees Prize, the Nobel Prize, and the Carrington Award? The author of Leonard McCoy’s Comparative Alien Physiology?”

  “Yeah, I wrote that,” McCoy said, ignoring the other items Crusher had listed. “But they keep on finding new aliens, so it’s never gonna be up to date.”

  Crusher laughed. “Well, I don’t think I would’ve taken this assignment as the Enterprise’s chief medical officer if I didn’t haven’t a copy of your work handy.”

  “Well, that’s mighty kind of you to say, young lady,” McCoy said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome,” Crusher said. “I’m sure Nurse Temple is doing a find job showing you around our medical facilities, but would you mind if I took over?”

  “Not at all,” McCoy said, taking pains to laud Temple for the exemplary escort she’d provided throughout the day.

  Crusher then proceeded to take him through the rest of the sickbay, her office, and the medical labs. Finally, late in the day, the ship’s second officer—an odd-looking fellow with lustrous, goldish white skin and yellow eyes—arrived to take McCoy from the Enterprise back to the Hood, which was soon to depart.

  As they walked through the corridor, headed to the hangar bay, McCoy asked, “Where’s that other fella that brought me over here this morning?”

  “Lieutenant La Forge?” Data asked. “I believe he is on shift on the bridge at the moment. He is the ship’s primary conn officer.”

  “I see,” McCoy said. “Well, I guess you can take me back over to the Hood just as well as he could.”

  “If you are in a hurry, Admiral,” Data said, “I will gladly escort you to the nearest transporter room so that—”

  “Have you got some reason you want my atoms scattered all over space, boy?” McCoy erupted. He still traveled by transporter when absolutely necessary, but he saw little reason to do so if he could avoid it. And right now, he could avoid it.

  “No, sir,” Data said. “But at your age, sir, I thought you should not have to put up with the time and trouble of a shuttlecraft.”

  McCoy stopped and turned to face Data in the middle of the corridor. “Hold it right there, boy,” he said. “What about my age?”

  “Sorry, sir,” Data said. “If that subject troubles you—”

  “Troubles me?” McCoy snapped. “What’s so damned troublesome about not havin’ died?” He regarded the second officer, then asked, “How old you think I am anyway?”

  “One hundred thirty-seven years, Admiral,” Data replied, “according to Starfleet records.”

  The correctness of the answer startled McCoy. “Explain how you remember that so exactly,” he said.

  “I remember every fact I am exposed to, sir,” Data said. Remarkably, he seemed serious.

  Just like Spock, McCoy thought. He made a show of peering at Data’s ears, then said, “I don’t see no points on your ears, boy, but you sound like a Vulcan.”

  “No, sir,” Data said. “I am an android.”

  McCoy grunted, then said, “Almost as bad.” He wished Spock were here to have heard him. They could fill an afternoon with conversation after such a remark.

  He turned and started back down the corridor again, and Data followed. “I though it was generally accepted, sir, that the Vulcans are an advanced and most honorable race.”

  “Yeah, they are,” McCoy admitted. “And damn annoying at times.”

  “Yes, sir,” Data said.

  When he returned to Earth, McCoy thought he would have to contact Spock. He hadn’t seen or spoken to him in the last few months, and he guessed Spock would probably enjoy hearing about his visit to the new Enterprise.

  Enterprise, McCoy thought. It had been so many years since he’d first set foot on a starship with that name. He’d lived a lot of his life both before and after his time aboard, but there had always been something special about those days. “Well, this is a new ship,” he told Data, “but she’s got the right name. Now you remember that, you hear?”

  “I will, sir,” Data said.

  “You treat her like a lady,” he said as they turned into another corridor, “and she’ll always bring you home.” Except that hadn’t been true for Jim, had it? he thought with some bitterness. Or maybe it had. As somebody dear to him had once said, we all die. And if Jim was gonna go, McCoy thought, what better place to go than aboard the Enterprise, what better way than to save that ship and its crew?

  “Are you headed home now, Admiral?” Data asked.

  “Indeed I am,” McCoy said. “Indeed I am.”

  “And where is your home, sir,” Data said, “if you do not mind me asking?”

  “Well, I live in Atlanta,” McCoy said. “Born and raised there, and spent the better part of the last seventy years there.” They stopped before a turbolift and Data pressed the call button. “But really, my home is over there.” He pointed in the direction he imagined the Hood to be.

  “Aboard the starship Hood?” Data asked.

  “Yeah, my home is over there right now,” McCoy said. “Her name is Doctor Tonia Barrows.”

  “Your wife,” Data said as the turbolift doors parted. Data stepped aside, allowing McCoy to enter first. The second officer then followed him inside and ordered the lift to the hangar deck.

  “My wife,” McCoy said as they began to descend. “Mister Data, wherever Tonia is, that’s my home.”

  Epilogue

  White Oaks

  2366

  Spock mounted the steps onto the veranda and crossed to the front door. Before he could even make his presence known, the door opened, and Tonia greeted him warmly. “I’m so glad you’ve come so soon,” she said. Despite it being only midmorning, she looked somewhat haggard, her fatigued appearance more than simply a function of her age.

  “When we spoke,” Spock said, “I detected an urgency in your voice, in your words. I did not wish to arrive too late.” She had reached him on Vulcan, where he had resided for many years now. He still wished that he had seen Jim one more time before he had perished aboard the Enterprise, wished that he had paid one more visit to his mother. When Tonia had contacted him, when she’d told him of Leonard’s deteriorating condition, he knew that he could not wait. Though they had spoken several times recently, it had been months since Spock had visited his oldest friend.

  Tonia held the door open for him, and Spock walked through the foyer and into the front hall. He stopped before the staircase, expecting to go upstairs, but Tonia pointed toward the great room. “Leonard’s in here,” she said. “He doesn’t like staying in bed, so he spends a lot of time either in here or out on the veranda.” She slid open the wooden doors and stepped inside, motioning Spock to follow.

  When he entered, he saw Leonard sitting on one of the sofas, his back to the door. An antigrav chair sat beside him. Spock followed Tonia over and walked around to face Leonard. “You have a visitor,” Tonia said.

  Slowly and with what appeared to be great effort, Leonard lifted his head and peered at his wife, then just as arduously looked over at Spock. “Is that you, you green-blooded hobgoblin?” he said. Despite the familiar spirit and good humor in what he said, his words came in long, labored breaths.

  Spock nevertheless arched an eyebrow, responding to McCoy’s contrived irascibility. “Indeed it is, you irritable old quack.” Leonard sputtered out a laugh, his voice painfully thin, but Spock found the sound of his friend’s momentary joy more than welcome.

  “Can I get anything for you?” Tonia asked, turning to Spock. “Something to eat or drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Spock said.


  “How about you, honey?” she asked Leonard.

  “No, no, I’m fine, thank you,” he answered.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two to insult each other in private then,” Tonia said. She bent down over Leonard and kissed him lightly. Then she left, closing the sliding doors after her.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, Spock,” Leonard said. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” he said and he sat down on the other sofa.

  “So, what’ve you been up to out on that desert of a planet of yours?” Leonard asked.

  “I have been continuing my research at the Vulcan Science Academy,” Spock said, “as well as teaching a course from time to time.”

  “Sounds fulfilling,” Leonard observed.

  “It is,” Spock agreed. “And you? What have you ‘been up to?’”

  “Not much, Spock,” Leonard said. “I’m getting a little long in the tooth to be up to anything.”

  “What is it that ails you?” Spock asked.

  “Nothing but the hundred and forty-one years under my belt,” Leonard said. “The body tires out.”

  “Indeed,” Spock said. “Though Vulcans age at a slower rate than humans, I too have noticed the passage of time, the slowing of the body, the dulling of the mind.”