DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of J. M. Lane and is copyright (c) 2002 by J. M. Lane. This story is rated PG.

THE RIGHT DECISION

by JM Lane

ONE

"Oh, my God. Please, God, no." Nurse Christine Chapel's face was a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"What's wrong, Chris?" Chief Surgeon Leonard McCoy asked conversationally. He switched off his tricorder, where he had been recording his Medical Log, and went to join her.

"Look for yourself." McCoy was surprised to see tears in his chief nurse's eyes before he looked into the holo-microscope but dismissed it for the moment.

"Oh, my God." The Doctor's voice was barely audible as he echoed Christine's earlier statement. "Xenopolycythemia. Incurable and terminal. Whose test is this?"

Christine's eyes brimmed with tears. "Yours. I ran an analysis on a sample of your blood and tissue a few minutes ago." McCoy turned pale. He had been feeling weak and dizzy lately and his blood pressure had been up, but he had attributed it to too much work and not enough food or rest. Now this...

"Leonard, I don't want you to die."

"Don't worry, Chris. I don't intend to go without a fight." He gave her a reassuring hug; the nurse gave her superior a wan smile.

"But how can we beat an incurable disease?"

"I don't know, but if there's a way, I'll find it."

Christine looked thoughtful. "Shouldn't the Captain be told about this? After all, he would need to know in order to... obtain a replacement CMO. You know, just in case we can't find a cure."

McCoy wasn't fond of the idea, but knew she was right. Jim would have to know -- but not right this second. After the crew physicals would be soon enough.

Christine went into the next room; moments later McCoy heard the following: "...to Captain Kirk. Please come to Sickbay. There's an emergency. I can't discuss it over the intercom."

McCoy caught the gist of what had been said and was furious, intending to give Christine hell for taking it upon herself to contact the Captain. Dammit, he wasn't ready yet! Of course, McCoy doubted he would ever be ready, no matter when Kirk was told. How did you tell your friends that you were going to die? And even worse, that there was nothing you could do to change matters? Even so, Jim would expect him to do all he could to effect a cure. After all, one could replace a starship CMO, but not a friend of all one's adult life. He entered the adjoining room, eyes flashing blue fire.

"Christine, what the hell do you think you're doing? The Captain doesn't need to know right away."

"Yes, he does," she threw back. "You know how long it takes for Starfleet to replace starship personnel."

"Even so, you're overstepping your authority," he sternly informed her. "I think you'd better go to your quarters. Your shift's over anyway."

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm a nurse first, and a member of the crew of the Enterprise second," she declared. "I've called the Captain, and I'll wait until he comes!"

Just then the Sickbay doors swished open and Kirk stepped in, eyes widening upon seeing his Chief Surgeon and Head Nurse arguing, unaware of his presence.

"I said, you're excused, Nurse! You may return to your quarters!" Christine's jaw stiffened; her lips followed suit. McCoy's tone softened. "Please, Christine. I promise you I'll give the Captain a full report." Christine turned on her heel and marched out, looking straight ahead.

McCoy watched her go, then turned to face a surprised but expectant Kirk. "That was quite a scene," the latter observed.

"I've completed the standard physicals for the entire crew." McCoy's voice had an edge that the Captain didn't miss.

"Fine. What's the emergency?" Kirk's voice was laced with impatience, on the edge of anger.

"The crew is fit; I found nothing unusual -- with one exception." The Doctor's voice lowered on the last three words, as though he didn't want Kirk to hear them.

"Serious?"

"Terminal."

"What is it?"

"Xenopolycythemia. It has no cure."

"Who?"

McCoy went on as though the Captain hadn't spoken. "He has one year to live at the most."

"Who?" Kirk repeated, angry now.

"The ship's Chief Medical Officer."

The Captain's face went white. "You?"

"I'll be most effective in the time left if you keep this to yourself."

Kirk closed his eyes in pain, tears stinging his eyelids. It couldn't be true. There must be a mistake. His oldest friend dying? Never! He couldn't lose Bones like this. There must be a way to save him! Outwardly the Captain only nodded. "Thank you for your report, Doctor. I must return to the Bridge now."

He turned and left Sickbay as Christine had, finding it difficult to breathe -- or even keep moving. The thought of losing Bones was too painful to contemplate, making Kirk feel as though a giant hand was squeezing the breath out of him.

How would he hide this from Spock? And Starfleet had to know, so a replacement could be sent. Even so, how could he live without Bones? However close he and Spock were, neither were complete without the Doctor and his peculiar but irreplaceable brand of friendship. Despite their almost constant bickering, good-natured and otherwise, Kirk was sure that Spock cared about McCoy in his own way as much as he himself did.

Fortunately, the more immediate problem of the origin of the missile they had destroyed occupied Kirk for the rest of his shift. They had found that what seemed to be an asteroid was the point of origin for the missile -- an asteroid that was in reality a spaceship on a collision course with Daran V. Daran V was a populated world of three billion, seven hundred twenty-four million, according to Spock, and impact was in 396 days... thirteen months.

It hit Kirk all the harder to find Bones waiting in the Transporter Room when he and Spock arrived. Nothing he said could change the Doctor's mind; Christine was even there to see him off. How often did that happen? The next thing they knew, they were on what seemed to be a planet's surface. However, they could find no trace of life -- or at least none their tricorders could detect. McCoy was well aware that the tricorders could only pick up things they were designed to pick up. There was also the possibility of the material used in construction of the asteroid ship being something that their sensors couldn't read through.

In the next moment, they found themselves fighting with people who seemed to come out of nowhere. McCoy himself was distracted by an extraordinarily beautiful woman who called herself "Natira, the High Priestess of the People." It was long enough for one of her guards to take advantage of it and knock him out with the butt of his sword. His next memory was of Jim helping him up. He looked weakly up into the Captain's concerned face.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so," the Doctor assured his friend.

"Welcome to the world of Yonada," the beautiful woman dressed in green said, her voice holding a trace of an accent which would have been British back on Earth.

McCoy had a better view now that he was on his feet. The woman's eyebrows slanted upward almost as much as Spock's, but they were gently arched in the center and there was a downward curve at the ends. Her hair was chestnut brown, a long ponytail hanging down her back and large curls framing her oval face. Her outfit was made of some shiny green fabric, two triangular places on her slender body exposed, as was one creamy shoulder and arm. The other shoulder was covered, as was her left arm to her wrist. He didn't learn until later that yet more hair was wrapped around the long ponytail, and that the back of her dress was nonexistent except for narrow strips of fabric crisscrossing her back.

"I can't say I think much of your 'welcome'," Kirk retorted.

"Take them," she bit out. The Doctor noted that she moved toward the opening in one of the cylinders they had discovered upon arrival, having handed their confiscated equipment to two of her underlings. The seven of them made their way down a winding metal staircase; Natira came last.

She led the way down a hallway filled with attractive, simply dressed people. The women wore long, colorful dresses, each with one shoulder bare. The men wore colorful knee-length tunics with dark leggings and shoes. The group stopped in front of a set of double doors; Spock's eyebrow raised as she waved a hand in front of one set of strange symbols, then the other hand in front of another. The doors parted and the group entered what Natira referred to as the "Oracle Room."

"You will kneel," she ordered before kneeling on a low platform in the center of the room, holding some of their equipment in one outstretched hand. "Oh, Oracle of the People, most perfect and wise. Strangers have come to our world. They bring us instruments we do not understand."

McCoy stage-whispered to Kirk. "She called this 'the world.' These people don't know they're on a spaceship."

Kirk whispered back, "Well, they've been in flight ten thousand years. It's possible they don't realize it." At this point one of the guards shushed him.

Natira turned to face them after standing up. "Who are you?" Kirk introduced himself and his friends. "For what reason do you visit this world?"

"We come in friendship," the Captain said.

Suddenly a booming voice reverberated through the room. "Then learn what it means to be our enemy before you learn what it means to be our friend." Bolts of electricity struck the three Enterprise men; they collapsed to the floor unconscious.

TWO

Kirk awakened first, then Spock. "Are you all right?" the Captain asked his Vulcan friend as the latter approached him where he sat beside a still-unconscious McCoy.

"Yes, Captain."

"Bones," Kirk called. No response. He shook the Doctor and called again; finally he lightly slapped McCoy's face. "Bones!"

"The Doctor must have received an excessively large electrical shock," the Vulcan commented.

"No," Kirk contradicted.

"Nothing could have caused this, Captain... at least nothing that's happened here." Spock was bewildered. What could be wrong with the Doctor?

"It was serious because of McCoy's weakened condition."

"May I ask precisely what is troubling the Doctor?" The Vulcan noted the Captain's tightly controlled voice and allowed himself a moment of concern for the Chief Surgeon. He had wondered what was going on since the strange conversation between Jim and the Doctor in the Transporter Room. The Vulcan had remained silent, figuring there must be some logical reason for it -- and hopefully he would learn what that reason was.

"I don't think he'd have told you himself. It's xenopolycythemia."

Spock's face was touched by sadness. "Yes. I know of it, Captain."

"Then you know that nothing can be done." Both looked upon their unconscious friend, asking themselves why it had to be McCoy afflicted with such a disease, and hating their inability to help him. At that moment McCoy's eyelids fluttered, then opened. The first thing he saw was Kirk's face. "Bones?" the Captain asked.

"I'm all right," McCoy said. "Are you all right, Mr. Spock?" He looked up at the Vulcan.

"Yes, Doctor. The Captain and I have suffered no ill effects." McCoy sat up carefully, then stood up, wobbly once on his feet, then steadying himself... looking surprised when Spock reached to help him, a look of controlled concern on his sculptured face.

The Doctor looked at Kirk in bewilderment. "Spock knows," the Captain said by way of explanation, giving McCoy a concerned look. "Are you sure you should get up?"

"Don't worry; I can handle it, Jim." McCoy politely refused his friends' offered hands. "We'd better get to the Control Room." At this point an old man with long grey hair and care-worn face, topping a colorful knee-length tunic with black leggings and shoes, entered. "Gentlemen, I believe we have a visitor."

The old man bowed as the three from the Enterprise turned to face him. They each received a pill after he reached them. "Many of us have felt the power of our Oracle," he explained. "This has been of benefit."

The Doctor was the first to try it. "Tastes like an ancient herb derivative," he observed, not waiting to see whether his friends took it or not. All he knew was that he needed it.

"You... are not of Yonada," the old man said carefully, as if afraid of something.

"No," Kirk said. "We're from outside your world."

"Where is outside?" their visitor wondered.

"Outside. Up there, everywhere," Kirk told him.

"So they say, also." The old man winced as though in pain before continuing. "Many years ago, I climbed the mountains -- even though it is forbidden."

"Why is it forbidden?" the Captain asked.

"I'm not sure." The old man winced once again and put a hand to his temple. "But things are not as they teach us. For the world is hollow... and I have touched the sky!"

With that, both hands went to his temples and he cried out before collapsing. McCoy eased him to the floor, then checked for a pulse before looking up at his two companions. "He's dead."

Kirk looked down on the dead man lying at their feet. "'For the world is hollow and I have touched the sky!'" he repeated, voice low and respectful.

"He said it was forbidden to climb the mountains," Spock recalled.

"Yes, of course it is -- because if you did, you'd touch the sky and find you were inside a hollow ball. Not a planet, but a spaceship... and that knowledge seems to be forbidden."

Just then Natira entered with two female attendants bearing trays of food and drink, their eyes widening at the sight of the body on the floor -- but it was Natira who spoke. "What has happened?"

"We don't know," Kirk said. "He was talking to us, then screamed in pain and collapsed."

Natira knelt beside the body and bowed her head. "Forgive him, for he was an old man, and old men are sometimes foolish." McCoy had a fleeting thought that men didn't have to be old to be foolish (women either, for that matter) before the priestess rose. "But it is written that those of the People who sin or speak evil shall be punished." Her face became sad as she summoned two guards, who arrived seconds later. She gestured toward the body. "Take him away -- gently." To the three Enterprise men she said, "He served well for many years." As the other two women offered them food and drink, she said, "It is now time to refresh yourselves."

Kirk took some, but Spock declined. McCoy declined food but took a drink. Natira gestured to a nearby table; the women placed the trays there and waited. "It is the will of the Oracle that you now be treated as honored guests." She ostensibly addressed all three, but her gaze lingered on McCoy before she turned and rejoined her attendants, speaking softly with them.

McCoy seated himself again as Kirk and Spock positioned themselves in front of him. "You seem to be the special favorite," Kirk observed with a smile.

"Indeed, Doctor," the Vulcan concurred. "The lady did show a marked preference for your company."

McCoy smiled. "Well, nobody can blame her for that, can they?"

Kirk looked at the three women, then back to McCoy. "Personally I find the lady's taste questionable, but she obviously prefers you, and you don't seem to mind."

The Doctor couldn't help thinking, What man worthy of the name would mind? though he didn't voice his opinion. After all, it wasn't every day that a woman gravitated to him instead of Jim or Spock -- and he was determined to enjoy every minute of it. Not to mention the surprise and jealousy he had detected in Jim's voice.

"In which case, you may keep the lady occupied while Spock and I are left alone to find the power controls for this... world."

Natira dismissed the other women and returned to the three men, standing in front of McCoy, noting how strangely he was acting. "You do not seem well. It distresses me."

"Oh no, I'm quite all right, thank you," he assured her.

"We are most interested in your world," Spock said.

Natira smiled. "That pleases us."

Kirk returned it. "Then you won't mind if we look around."

"Not at all," the priestess replied. "The People know of you now." She smiled again. "You are free to go about and meet our people."

Kirk smiled again. "Thank you -- and thanks for taking care of Dr. McCoy."

"Not at all," she replied absently, her eyes on the Doctor. "Are you strong enough to move about?" she asked when he quietly coughed.

He looked up at her and smiled, finding it difficult not to lose himself in the bottomless depths of her eyes. "Perhaps not."

"Then remain here. Rest. We will talk." She smiled down at him.

"You are very kind." The couple hardly noticed when Kirk and Spock departed.

The other women departed when Natira jerked her head toward the door. "Leave us."

McCoy turned toward her when she joined him on the couch. "I'm curious. Why did the Oracle punish the old man?"

Her head bowed. "I... cannot tell you now."

"There's some way by which the Oracle knows what you say," McCoy observed.

Natira nodded. "What we say, what we think. The Oracle knows the minds and hearts of all the People."

The Doctor bowed his head, as if too weak to hold it up any longer. Natira touched his nearest hand. "I did not know you would be hurt so badly."

"It's all right. We had to learn the power of the Oracle."

Her reply held a strange urgency, even longing. "McCoy, there is something I must say. Since the moment I--" Words failed her when their eyes met. "It is not the custom of the People to hide our feelings."

McCoy was certain he had never seen a more beautiful, desirable woman anywhere in the galaxy... and she wanted him. Even so, he had to take things slow and easy, in spite of the difficulty that presented with her nearness and intoxicating perfume. But he only said, "Honesty is usually wise," his head rising so their eyes met again.

Her heart seemed written all over her face. "Is there a woman for you?"

He was startled at her blunt question, but at the same time admired her courage in asking it. She was obviously one who believed in going after whatever -- and whoever -- she wanted, and devil take the hindmost

"No," he told her. "There's no one."

She smiled happily. "Does McCoy find me attractive?"

He returned her smile. "Yes, I do. Very much."

She took his hands in hers. "I hope you men of space, of other worlds, hold truth as dear as we do."

"We do."

As he squeezed her hands, he no longer wanted to play the gentleman. He didn't have time to be timid. After all, he only had a year to live; Natira and her love could make it a happy one. He would miss his friends, but was sure they would understand. He had had precious little happiness in his life, and wasn't about to turn down the only chance he had left for it. Even the thought of dying seemed more palatable if she was with him, even though he hardly knew her or anything about her. She was so beautiful, so tempting...

Her voice brought him back to reality. "McCoy, I wish for you to remain here on Yonada -- as my mate." Her eyes and face were radiant with love.

THREE

McCoy felt as though he'd been hit with the proverbial ton of bricks. He was of the old school, where men did the proposing of marriage. It wasn't every day a woman proposed to him. Sure, he found her attractive, but one didn't marry everyone they found attractive.

"But we're strangers to each other," he pointed out.

Once again, she turned on her delicious smile. "But is that not the nature of men and women -- that the pleasure is in the learning of each other?"

She sounded so logical, like Spock, that he found himself agreeing. "Yes. Yes, it is."

"Then let the thought rest in your heart, McCoy." She reached a hand to stroke his cheek. "In the fullness of time, the People will reach a new world -- rich, green, lovely to the eye. So much so that it will fill their hearts with tears of joy. You can share that world with me... rule it by my side."

"When will you reach this new world?"

"Soon. The Oracle will only say 'soon'."

"If you only knew how much I need some kind of future, Natira," McCoy found himself confessing, her open and unashamed love for him inspiring the beginning of the same inside of him and warming his lonely heart for the first time in years.

"Have you lived a lonely life?" Her eyes darkened with concern.

"Yes. Very lonely."

"No more, McCoy. There will be no more loneliness for you. I will see to that."

He knew he had to tell her of his illness, that their love could not last. He owed her that much for opening her heart to him. "Natira, there is something I must tell you."

She put a finger to his lips. "There is nothing you need to say."

"But there is," he insisted.

"Then tell me, if the telling is such a need."

"I have an illness for which there is no cure. I have one year to live."

Her eyes widened in shock and pain, but the love remained. "Until I saw you, there was nothing in my heart. It sustained my life, but nothing more. Now it sings." She smiled. "I could be happy to have that feeling for a day... a week... a month..." Her voice lowered. "A year. Or whatever the Creators hold in store for us."

She held out her arms to him; he followed suit, drawing her warm sweetness close to him and finding her lips with his.

* * *

Kirk and Spock received curious looks as they walked down a corridor in the asteroid ship; some people even followed them for a time.

"These people have no idea they're living on a spaceship," Spock observed. "Most curious."

"I wonder how many generations have lived and been buried here without ever knowing that their world is hollow," the Captain replied as they turned down the corridor toward the Oracle Room.

The Vulcan studied the strange symbols in the walls once they arrived. "The writing is Fabrini, Captain. I recognize it."

"Fabrini? Didn't their sun go nova and destroy its planets?"

"Indeed, Captain. Toward the end, the Fabrini lived underground, as these people do, to protect themselves."

"Then that means that some were put aboard this ship and sent to another planet." Kirk looked around at the nearly empty corridor. "And these are their descendants."

After making sure they were alone, Spock opened the door and the two slipped inside the Oracle Room. They were surprised but pleased when nothing happened to them. "The Oracle doesn't seem to know we're here," Kirk remarked. "I wonder what alerted it the first time."

The Vulcan stopped Kirk before he stepped onto the low platform in the center of the large but mostly empty room. "I believe its reprehensible conduct was initiated when Natira knelt on that platform."

The two moved away from the platform, scanning the rest of the room. More strange symbols lined the walls; an altarlike structure with a sunlike symbol in its center was at the far end. A monolith with a crude carving of a sun and its solar system on its top third was at the left side of the room near the door. Spock noted how many planets there were, his upswept brows rising when he digested this information, though he said nothing for the moment.

"Look further, Spock. A clue to the location of the Control Room must be here somewhere."

"Even so, there is nothing to suggest that this is anything but a planet... nor is there any question that the 'Creators' are considered gods."

Kirk discovered the monolith at this point; the Vulcan was one step behind. "Eight planets," the latter said. "That was the number in the Fabrina solar system."

"Then there is no doubt that these people are descendants of the Fabrini," Kirk observed.

"None," Spock confirmed. "Just as there is no doubt that they have been in flight on this asteroid ship for ten thousand years." As Spock finished speaking, the door opened and Natira entered. They ducked behind the monolith as she crossed to the low platform and knelt upon it again. The Oracle's booming voice reverberated through the room and the sun-symbol glowed.

"Speak," the voice said.

"It is I, Natira."

"Yes, Natira."

"It is written that only the High Priestess may select her mate."

"It is so written," came the agreement.

"The strangers among us -- the three visitors -- there is one called McCoy. I want him to remain here... as my mate."

Kirk and Spock looked at each other; the Captain whistled under his breath and the Vulcan raised an eyebrow. Bones had certainly lost no time!

"Does he agree to this?" the Oracle asked.

"I have asked him," Natira said. "He has not yet given me his answer."

"He must become one of the People; worship the Creators and agree to the insertion of the Instrument of Obedience."

"He will be told what must be done."

"If he agrees to all things, it is permitted. Teach him our laws carefully, see that he commits no sacrilege -- no offense against the People."

"I shall do so, most wise." Natira bowed her head, then got up, stepping off the platform and heading for the door. When she swung her arms to open it, all hell broke loose. Natira whirled to find Kirk and Spock enveloped in a white glow, unable to move.

"Who are the intruders?" the Oracle demanded.

"Two of the strangers, Kirk and Spock," Natira said.

"McCoy is not with them?"

"No."

"Kirk and Spock have committed sacrilege. You know what must be done."

Guards rushed into the room. Natira gestured toward the monolith and its captives, her beautiful face a mask of anger. "When the Oracle releases them, take them," she said. "Fools," she addressed the two prisoners. "Do you think we are children, that you can do as you please, commit any offense that amuses you?"

* * *

Natira was standing before a makeshift altar in her quarters when McCoy entered. "What are you going to do to my friends?" he demanded.

"They entered the Oracle Room." She kept her head bowed and back to him.

"And the penalty is death."

"Yes," she admitted. "We gave them our trust; they betrayed us. I can make no other decision."

"They acted out of ignorance, Natira."

"They said they came in friendship," she retorted.

"Let them return to the ship," McCoy entreated.

She shook her head. "I cannot."

"Not even for me?" He turned her around and held her at arm's length. "I've made my decision. I'm staying here on Yonada." She rushed into his arms and held him tightly. Her hair was soft and fragrant against his cheek. A moment later, he moved her away so she faced him. "Natira, what they did, they did because they felt they had to. How do you think I'd feel if I stayed here with the chance to be happy for the first time in my life, knowing my friends had died? Let them return to the ship. You won't regret it."

Love shone from her eyes as they looked up into his. "Very well, McCoy. You have won their lives. I will spare them -- for the sake of our happiness and future." As the two came together in a lingering kiss, it was at that moment that McCoy knew he had made the right decision.

FOUR

Kirk and Spock were waiting outside at the beamup site when McCoy joined them. He handed over their communicators and weapons; Spock gave the Doctor a strange look when he didn't take his place with them.

"Aren't you coming with us?" Kirk was shocked.

"No." McCoy's tone was quiet but firm.

"Bones, this isn't a planet, it's a spaceship on a collision course with Daran V!"

The Doctor didn't change expression. "I'm on something of a collision course myself, Jim."

Kirk's face hardened. "Doctor, I order you to return with us!"

"And I refuse," McCoy replied evenly. "Natira has asked me to stay, and I'm staying."

"As her husband?" Kirk prompted.

"Yes," was the reply. "I've only one year to live, Jim. Are you going to begrudge me my last chance for happiness?"

The Doctor's eyes pleaded with his friend not to deny him, and of course the Captain couldn't. Even so, Bones' staying here meant losing him -- in more ways than one -- and Kirk didn't think he could live with that.

"Is that so much to ask, that I spend the last year of my life happy?"

"No, of course not," Kirk reluctantly admitted. "Does she know about your illness?"

McCoy nodded. "She does."

"Bones, if we can't correct the course of this... ship, we'll have to blast it out of space."

McCoy's face hardened. "I intend to stay on this ship with these people -- whatever happens."

"Your decision is illogical, Doctor," Spock said.

"Is it, Spock? Is it, really?" The Vulcan kept his body straight and stiff, hands in tight fists behind his back and eyes staring straight ahead as he swallowed hard, unable to answer. Before anyone could say another word, Kirk's communicator beeped. He flipped it open.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

"Scott here," came the voice of the Chief Engineer.

"Lock in on us, Scotty. Transport Mr. Spock and myself at once."

Scott was bewildered. "But sir, what about Dr. McCoy?"

Kirk literally forced out his next words. He had never done or said anything so difficult in his life. "He's staying, Scotty. Kirk out." His pain was eased by the look of gratitude on McCoy's face -- but how could he possibly leave him, even if it was what Bones wanted? A painful lump the size of Iowa formed in Kirk's throat and tears burned his eyelids even as he and Spock began to dematerialize. The Captain had a terrible feeling that if he did as McCoy asked, that he would never see him again... at least not alive.

Only Spock saw the pain in the Captain's eyes when they re-materialized in the Enterprise's Transporter Room. The Vulcan's voice was infinitely gentle as he attempted to comfort his Human friend. "I can understand how you must feel, Jim, but it is what the Doctor wants. We must honor his wishes."

The two were quiet under Scott's scrutiny, but once outside the door, Kirk's voice was filled with anguish. Spock was thankful that the corridor was deserted. "How can I possibly leave him behind, Spock? If I do, I feel sure that I'll never see him alive again, no matter what happens with Yonada." There was nothing Spock could reply to this, so he simply laid a comforting hand on his Human friend's shoulder. "What am I going to say to Christine?" Kirk lamented. "How can I make her understand what's happened -- or why?"

Spock heard the pain behind Kirk's statement and decided that it would be best if he told Christine about McCoy. He felt uncomfortable around her because of her feelings for him, but he could deal with it now... at least as long as he wasn't around her any more than necessary. Particularly considering the feelings her confession and actions over Psi 2000 had brought out in him...

"Jim, I believe that I would be better suited to explain the situation to Christine. You had best return to the Bridge."

Kirk's hazel eyes held both gratitude and concern. "I appreciate the gesture, Spock, but are you sure you can handle it? After all, you know how she feels about you -- and then to tell her about Bones on top of that..." The Captain's voice trailed off.

"I will be all right, Captain. Please go now."

"If you say so. Come see me when you're done, wherever I am."

Spock nodded, and Kirk walked on ahead to a 'lift which would take him back to the Bridge. Spock turned and headed in the opposite direction, to one which would take him to Sickbay and Christine. He wasn't looking forward to it, particularly the possibility of her becoming emotional and crying or something --but what mattered was that he was making Jim's job easier. That was only logical.

* * *

At this point, McCoy and Natira were in the Oracle Room on Yonada preparing for their marriage. With a part of him, the Doctor wished that Jim, Spock, and Christine could have been with him to share his happiness at this new marriage. It hurt to think that he would never see them again. How could he be truly happy without them, even with the love of a wonderful woman like Natira? Unfortunately, McCoy had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have to learn -- and learn fast. The Oracle's booming voice brought him back to reality.

"To become one of the People of Yonada, the Instrument of Obedience must be made part of your flesh. Do you now give your consent?"

"I do," McCoy said.

"Proceed." Natira stepped up to him, a small device in her left hand and her eyes meeting his with pure love.

"Be certain, McCoy," she advised. "Once it is done, it cannot be undone."

"Let it be done."

She placed her hands on his temples, pressing gently to activate the device. "You are now one with my people," she said happily.

He took her hand and they knelt together. "May I give you the love you want, and make the time you have beautiful." Her smile was tender.

"We are now of one mind, one heart, one life." She moved into his arms and they kissed.

"Teach him what he must know as one of the People," the Oracle said. She led McCoy to the monolith, pressing the lower three planets on the carving. The top third slid up to reveal a large, thick hardcover book.

"This is the Book of the People, to be opened and read when we reach the new world of the Promise. It was given by the Creators."

"Do the People know the contents of their book?" McCoy wondered.

"Only that it tells of our world here, and why must leave it one day for the new world."

McCoy couldn't understand that. If the People considered this ship their world, why would there be a need to leave it -- and why hadn't someone figured that the so-called world was really a spaceship long before the old man had? How could he have been the only one? Or had the Oracle killed off any non-believers before their skepticism could spread? A frightening thought... Of course, it would do no good to mention this, so he put it out of his mind before the Oracle punished him as well.

"Has the reason the People must leave here been revealed to you?"

Natira shook her head. "No, it has not."

"Don't you long to know its secrets?"

She frowned at him. "No. It is enough for me to know that we shall understand all when we reach our home." Natira's beautiful face hardened, as if telling McCoy not to bother asking any further questions. No matter how much she loved him, there was only so much he was entitled to know.

* * *

Christine was in the midst of entering medical data in the computer when Spock came in. "Christine?" he called softly.

Her head lifted; she looked surprised at the sight of him -- then her expression changed to one of mixed grief and fear. "Spock, what are you doing here? Where's Dr. McCoy?"

"Christine..." This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated, Spock could sense it -- but he had to see it through for the sake of everyone concerned.

"Has something happened to him? Is he... dead already?" Her eyes filled with tears as she got up and walked to a nearby table, standing there with her head bowed.

Spock gently touched her shoulder, sensing her grief and worry for McCoy as well as an underlying concern for himself, how he must be taking this.

"Christine, the Doctor is not dead. He has merely elected to remain on Yonada. The High Priestess there wishes him to become her husband, and it is logical to assume that he has done so by now. He wishes to make the last year of his life a happy one, so we must honor that wish, however difficult it may be for us."

Christine swallowed her tears. "In that case, I suppose I should be happy for him -- but still..." Her voice trailed off, mournful blue eyes seeking answers in the Vulcan's gentle brown ones.

"What do you wish?" Spock's voice was as gentle as it had been when he'd spoken to Kirk.

"I wish we could have been there for his wedding. You and I and the Captain, his closest friends."

Spock was silent, wishing the same thing even though he knew wishing was counterproductive and illogical. Despite their disagreements, the Vulcan had cared for the crusty Chief Surgeon, and was sure that McCoy had cared about him, too... as much as Jim did, albeit in a different way. The prospect of never seeing McCoy again was almost as painful to Spock as it was to the Captain.

"As do I, Christine -- but if his desire is to be left behind to begin a new life, we must respect his decision and move on." The nurse's head lowered again and her eyes closed in pain. Spock allowed himself a moment of empathy for her. You could replace a colleague or superior but not a close friend. "Christine, are you all right?"

She looked up into the Science Officer's concerned face. "Oh yes, Spock, I'm all right. I just wish I'd had the chance to say goodbye to him... wish him happiness. It's going to be hard enough getting along without him as it is -- and then not to see or know what his new wife is like..." Her voice was quiet and sad.

"I -- believe she loves him, Christine, and will... make him happy. I -- sensed deep love for him from her."

Christine smiled slightly. "Is she beautiful?"

"By Human standards, yes."

"Is that what you think, too?" The Vulcan was uncertain how to respond... or if he should say anything at all. It wasn't often he was asked such a question. Christine became contrite. "I'm sorry, Spock. I forgot myself. You don't have to answer that -- but if you happen to see Dr. McCoy again, or speak with him..." Her voice trailed off again.

"You want me to give him your good wishes," Spock finished. Christine looked startled for a moment, then nodded and smiled. "That is unlikely, given our present situation -- as well as Starfleet Command's likely reaction to the matter of Yonada... but I will convey your congratulations and such to him if at all possible."

"Thank you, Spock -- and thank you for coming to tell me about Dr. McCoy in person. I know how difficult it must have been for you, dealing with such strong emotion."

"The cause was more than sufficient, Christine." He gave her a half-smile. "In addition, it was the least I could do for the Doctor... and you."

This was meant to convey the Vulcan's appreciation of Christine's feelings for both himself and McCoy. Spock hoped she was perceptive enough to understand that without further elaboration. The smile she gave him showed that she was. He allowed himself a moment of relief before turning toward the door. "I must return to the Bridge now."

The chief nurse smiled and nodded before turning back to her work, thinking over what Spock had told her about Leonard and his decision to remain on Yonada, spend the remaining year of his life as the husband of its High Priestess. It hurt to think that she would never see him again, but at least he would be happy, with a wife who loved him and would appreciate him for the very special person he was. Because of that fact, she would -- must -- be happy for him.

FIVE

James Kirk loved being in command of his own ship, but there were some things he found difficult to deal with, such as finding a replacement for McCoy. The impending death of such an important crewman as the CMO was hard, particularly when the CMO was also a close friend. Kirk was sure there were many doctors of Bones' caliber (or nearly so) in Starfleet who would jump at the chance to serve on the Enterprise. That wasn't the problem. The problem was figuring a way to explain what had happened to Bones to Starfleet Command.

Not to mention the fact that he couldn't leave Bones behind on Yonada, whatever the reason. Not when doing so would mean never seeing him again. Of course, that wasn't the only thing he had to worry about. The fact that he and Spock had been unable to correct Yonada's course was another headache. The last thing he wanted to do was blast Yonada out of space, especially if McCoy was aboard... but unless he could find a way to divert the asteroid ship -- at this point, a feat akin to a magician pulling the proverbial rabbit out of his hat -- he would be forced to destroy it and all aboard in order to save Daran V. As much as he hated the idea, it was better than both populations being wiped out.

The voice of Admiral Westervliet, Chief of Operations, brought Kirk back to reality. "...Captain Kirk!" The Admiral sounded annoyed, as though he had repeated himself several times. Why hadn't Spock said anything -- or called him mentally instead of letting him sit with his thoughts twenty thousand kilometers away?

"Admiral? Oh yes, I'm here. Sorry, sir. I've been -- preoccupied."

"Indeed?" Westervliet's voice was tightly controlled. "Preoccupied with what, may I ask?"

"My CMO's illness, as well as the fact that we were unable to change the collision course of Yonada with Daran V."

"Ah, yes." The Chief of Operations frowned thoughtfully. "I understand that Dr. McCoy has a terminal illness which will kill him within a year."

"Yes, sir." Kirk's heart ached as a painful lump formed in his throat and he fought back tears. Spock placed a comforting hand on his Human friend's shoulder. Kirk looked up at the Vulcan with a grateful smile before turning back to face his desk viewscreen.

"Unfortunate, Captain, but I'm afraid you must continue your mission at once. Medical Headquarters will supply you with a list of available physicians and their biographies. It shouldn't be difficult to find a replacement for Dr. McCoy among them."

Technically the Captain agreed, but where could he find another Chief Surgeon he could also be close friends with? Even if he did, he could never replace Bones. No one could, really -- not in that sense. "That's the problem, sir," Kirk said.

Westervliet's face hardened. "Perhaps I failed to make myself clear. Let me restate it. You have been relieved of all responsibility for the asteroid ship Yonada. Starfleet Command will take care of the situation. I sympathize with your wish to stay, but hope you realize that you must get on with your mission regardless of your personal feelings in the matter."

Kirk's heart dropped as his stomach turned over. This couldn't be happening. He was being ordered to leave Bones behind! "But, sir, I can't--" Maybe there was no more professional responsibility, but Kirk felt a great personal responsibility. Bones was his friend, for God's sake... a friend who was dying!

"This isn't a request, Captain." Westervliet's voice was cold. "If you value your command, I suggest you listen to me."

The Captain went pale, but nodded. "Very well, sir." The viewscreen went dark; Kirk again looked up at his First Officer, searching for the answer to his dilemma in the sculptured Vulcan features -- but Spock merely said:

"I believe it is time to move on."

"Yes. Those are the orders." Just then the intercom squealed; Kirk opened it.

"Bridge to Captain!" Uhura sounded excited.

"Kirk here. What is it, Uhura?"

"An urgent call from Dr. McCoy, sir."

"Put him on."

"Jim!" McCoy called.

"Yes, Bones?"

"We may be able to get these people back on course!" The Doctor sounded pleased and excited.

"You found the controls?"

"No, but I've seen the book which contains all the ancient knowledge. If you can get to it, Spock could -- take out the information..." McCoy winced, his voice trailing off.

"Bones?" Kirk's voice was laced with concern.

"I'm all right, Jim." McCoy tried to reassure his friend even as the warning pain of the Oracle seemed to intensify with every passing second. Was his illness magnifying it or was the Instrument of Obedience magnifying the illness? Kirk wasn't convinced but there was no time to argue.

"Where is it?" At this point a scream burst from the intercom. "Bones, what's happening? McCoy, come in!"

Silence. A wave of grief overwhelmed Kirk; he was sure he knew what had happened. The Oracle had killed his friend to prevent his disclosing the forbidden information. Kirk called the Transporter Room, his mind working swiftly. "Transporter Room, stand by to transport Mr. Spock and myself. Lock onto McCoy's communicator signal and beam us to those coordinates upon our arrival."

He and Spock exchanged glances and departed, not speaking until they had rematerialized on Yonada in Natira's quarters. A tearful, angry woman met them; her hands became fists, raising up as if to strike Kirk on the chest. "You have killed your friend! I will have you put to death!"

"Spock, is McCoy dead?" Kirk held the near-hysterical woman at arm's length.

The Vulcan ran his tricorder over the Doctor's body. "No, Captain -- but he is in intense pain. I believe the Instrument of Obedience has aggravated his illness."

"Spock, help McCoy. I'll deal with Natira." The distraught woman struggled in Kirk's grip.

"Until you are dead, my beloved will think of you and disobey. For that, I will gladly see you die!"

Kirk clamped his hands on Natira's arms and pulled her aside as Spock removed a tiny electronic device from a small compartment in his tricorder, then bent over McCoy and pressed the device to the Doctor's temple. He pulled the device clear, gently removing the Instrument of Obedience...then reached for the Doctor's communicator and put it on his own belt. He reached for his tricorder before bringing the Doctor's hand to rest on his chest, holding it for a time. Natira closed her eyes in pain.

"He is no longer part of our people. You have released him from his vow of obedience." Her voice was husky with tears.

"We've released him from the cruelty of your Oracle." Kirk's voice was hard.

At this point McCoy moaned. Kirk released Natira; she rushed to her husband's side and cradled his head in her arms. The Captain knelt down on the opposite side of his friend's prone form. "Bones... you said something about a book. Where is it?"

Natira's head lifted, eyes wide with horror. "They must not know!"

McCoy's head lifted weakly, voice a hoarse croak. "The... Oracle Room..."

The priestess leaped to her feet, furious. "You will never see the Book! It is sacrilege!" She ran for the door; Kirk jumped up and followed her. "Guards! Guards!" He caught her and clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling her into the nearby alcove and shaking her, not stopping until she quieted down.

"Give me one moment to speak to you. One moment!" He slowly released her; she remained standing in front of him. "Natira, if you don't believe what I'm about to tell you, you can call the guards. We'll accept any punishment you decree."

Her eyes were hard and cold. "What do you wish to say?"

"You must believe that what I'm about to tell you is the truth."

"The truth of your world!" she shot back.

"Yes...my world, and your world of Yonada," the Captain replied evenly.

Natira's eyes flashed fire. "You do not obey the laws of the Creators! How can you understand my world?"

"I understand, Natira," he assured her. "Believe me, I understand. Ten thousand years ago a sun was dying, and with it, its worlds. They are what you see on the plaque in the room of the Oracle."

"That is the system of which Yonada is a part," she declared.

"No. It is the world of your ancestors -- your creators." Kirk paused for breath. "It no longer exists."

Her eyes stabbed through him like daggers. "You are mad!"

"No, I'm not," he insisted. "Hear me out! When your ancestors realized that their world was dying, they built a great ship -- chose their best people. They wished for their race to survive... then sent this ship out into space."

Natira frowned. "You wish me to believe that Yonada is a ship?"

"Yes."

"But we have a sun! It did not die... and at night I see the stars!"

Kirk shook his head. "No. You're living inside a hollow ball. Your ancestors created it -- to take you on a journey to a promised new planet."

"Why should... the truth... wait for you to come to Yonada?" Her face twisted with pain as one hand pressed on her temple.

"Because a flaw developed in the controls. If it isn't corrected, Yonada will strike and kill another world it doesn't even know!"

"Why was this kept from us? Why would the Creators keep us in darkness? No, you do not speak the truth. I believe only the Oracle. I believe!" she called out even as pain once again contorted her face.

"Let us remove the Instrument of Obedience the way we did for McCoy." Kirk's voice was soft, almost pleading. "Please, Natira."

Instead she shook her head and twisted away from him with a look of pain, fleeing out the door. Spock got up from McCoy's side and followed Kirk to the door. "Do you think she understood me?"

The Vulcan moved to the door and opened it, nodding to a man and two women passing by before closing it again. "She must have understood something. There are no guards to detain us." A few feet away, McCoy heard the conversation and tried to get up but couldn't, instead falling back onto the thick carpet where he had been lying. It was fifteen minutes before the Doctor recovered. Kirk and Spock were beside him when he awoke. "Jim..." he whispered.

"Bones?" The Captain's voice was thick with emotion, holding one of the Doctor's hands in both of his.

"Natira... where is she?"

"I'm not sure. Probably the Oracle Room."

"Get me the cortropine from my medikit. I must go to her."

The Vulcan stopped McCoy even as his hand moved toward his hip. "Lie quietly, Doctor. I will administer the injection."

The medikit had fallen off when McCoy collapsed; Spock had placed on his own belt for safekeeping, near the Doctor's communicator. Keeping a hand on McCoy's shoulder, he reached for the medikit with the other. In seconds he located the hypo containing the yellow-green solution and pressed it against McCoy's arm. The Doctor was helped to his feet within five minutes by his two friends, even over his protests. Kirk tried to sound stern.

"Just accept it, Bones. You're outvoted and outnumbered."

McCoy sighed but shrugged and said nothing, turning on his heel and heading for the door, leading the way toward the Oracle Room and his wife.

SIX

Upon their arrival at the Oracle Room, they opened the doors and McCoy's friends held him back when they saw Natira kneeling on the raised platform. The Oracle's booming voice spoke like a parent scolding a disobedient child.

"You have listened to the words of the nonbelievers."

"Yes, I have listened."

"That was the first transgression. You felt the pain of warning?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why did you listen further?"

"They said they spoke the truth."

"Their truth," the Oracle retorted.

"Is truth not truth for all?" Natira protested.

"The truth of Yonada is your truth. There can be no other for you. Repent your disobedience."

"I must know the truth of the world!" she cried as she collapsed, holding her temples as pain shot through her. McCoy rushed to his wife's side and gathered her limp body into his arms. Her head rested on his chest, one of his hands cradling her neck. Her eyes opened a short time later and she smiled up at him. "Your friends have told me of your world."

"They spoke the truth."

"I believe you. I believe... The Creators kept us in darkness. There is nothing I can do. I believe with you, my husband..."

Pain twisted her features again as she pressed a hand to her temple. McCoy reached for the device resting in Spock's outstretched hand, pressing it to Natira's temple. He lifted it and showed it to her; she turned pale and lapsed into unconsciousness again.

McCoy came back to reality at the sound of Kirk's voice. "Is she all right?" The Captain's voice was laced with concern.

"She will be. I'll stay with her. The book is in the monolith."

But even as the two Enterprise men turned in that direction, the Oracle spoke, anger in every syllable. "It is blasphemy to the temple!"

"We do this for the survival of the people of Yonada," Kirk said.

"You are unbelievers. You are forbidden to gaze at the Book!"

"But we must consult it in order to help you!" the Captain insisted.

"It is blasphemy! The punishment is death!"

By this time they reached the monolith. "McCoy, how do you open this thing?" Kirk called.

The Doctor lifted his head after kissing Natira's damp brow. "Depress the three lower planets on the left side simultaneously."

The top of the monolith slid back; Kirk removed the book and handed it to Spock even as the walls turned red with heat. The temperature rose forty degrees in thirty seconds; the hot air scorched the lungs of all present. Spock opened the book and began to leaf through it.

"Hurry, Spock," the Captain urged. "It's getting hotter by the minute."

The Vulcan refused to be rushed, leisurely turning the pages of the ancient book. "Is it indexed, Spock?" Kirk asked as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

"Yes," was the reply. "And it refers to the altar. Press on the center until it opens." The two moved to the sunlike drawing; Kirk pressed on the center and the entire altar moved forward to reveal a short passageway. Spock climbed through into a small room filled with electronic equipment. Two glowing buttons caught his eye; he pressed them. They went out and the temperature dropped. "I have neutralized the heating element," he called to the others.

"We might as well stay here now." McCoy positioned Natira in his lap. She awakened moments later and smiled up at him. He returned her smile. "You'll be all right now," he told her. "The Oracle can no longer punish."

"Your... friends have prevented it?" He nodded. "And will they send this... ship on to where the Creators intended?"

"Yes. There is no more to fear. Come now; we must say goodbye to them."

EPILOGUE:

Natira's eyes widened. "You mean you are staying here with me?"

"Of course. You're my wife. I can't leave you."

"But you are dying, McCoy. You must not stay here to die. You must find a cure for the disease that afflicts you. I could not bear to watch you die."

"Don't you have research facilities here?"

"Yes, but--"

He cut her off. "No buts. I've never been anything but an old country doctor, anyway."

"But you have surely been with your friends a long time. You will miss them terribly, as they will miss you." Natira frowned with concern.

McCoy's eyes clouded over at this. "You're right, but I could never be completely happy without you. After having known your love, the last thing I want to do is give it up -- even for them. I love them, but they cannot give me what you can."

At that moment Kirk called to them. "Bones, Natira, we're getting ready to leave." The pair came back to life, rejoining their friends in the outer hall. The Captain's eyes met those of the Doctor as the latter stood before him, one arm around Natira.

"Bones, we're leaving a transmitter here so you can contact the outside world if necessary. It's not as fancy as what's on board ship, but it's something."

"I appreciate the gesture, Jim."

Kirk winced with pain, but forced himself to be cheerful. "What do you want your code to be?"

"My initials should suffice -- LHM one-two-zero, subspace frequency three. How would that be?"

The Captain nodded stiffly, hardly able to breathe because of the agony inside of him, as though he was having a heart attack. If only it was something that mundane, Kirk lamented. I could stand it. But never to see Bones again... "Anything else?"

"Yes -- but I can't say it out loud. Come here." The Doctor released Natira and moved to meet Kirk, whispering in his ear. Spock raised both brows in surprise. Despite his pain, the Captain managed a smile and nodded. "I think that could be arranged. It could be beamed down with the transmitter."

"Spock." McCoy turned to the Vulcan. "Could you do something for me?"

"That depends on what it is."

"Tell Christine goodbye for me."

The Vulcan stiffened at the mention of the nurse's name.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I just thought it might be better, coming from you."

"What did you have in mind?" Spock inquired warily.

"Well, for one thing -- thanking her for caring about me."

The Vulcan allowed himself a thoughtful frown. "I suppose I could do that. Anything else?"

"Well, yes, but I don't think you'd go for it." The Doctor sounded dubious.

"What did you want me to do?"

McCoy shook his head. "Nah, forget it. I'll ask Jim."

The reply was as cold and hard as steel. "What... did... you... want... me... to... do?"

McCoy froze in his tracks. When Spock spoke like that, everyone listened -- even him. "Just a -- hug and kiss on the cheek, that's all."

The Vulcan allowed himself a moment of exasperation. "Then why did you not say so?"

"As I said, you don't usually go for such things."

"It is all right, Doctor. I will do it. You cannot do it yourself because you will not see Christine again. It is only logical that I deliver your message instead."

"Even if it involves touching and kissing?"

"Brief contact will do no harm, as long as it is a 'favor' for... a friend." The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise and happiness.

"Thank you, Spock; I appreciate it."

The Vulcan nodded, closing his eyes for a second, then opening them again. "It is my duty."

"By the way, did you fix Yonada's course so it won't collide with Daran Five?"

Spock nodded again. "Yes, Doctor. There was a weakness in one of the eight engines. It has since been corrected."

"Then I suppose all that needs to be done is beam my things over, along with the transmitter -- then you and Jim had best get on with the mission before Fleet Command reads you the riot act again."

Kirk had been busy making arrangements all the while the Doctor and Spock were talking. He had had the subspace transmitter, a holo of the three friends McCoy had requested ... as well as the latter's mementos and personal effects, including civilian clothing, in the course of McCoy's conversation with Spock. He would no longer need uniforms or anything pertaining to the Enterprise or Starfleet, though he would likely keep one as a souvenir. Kirk had also seen to it that Uhura included a hard copy of the instruction manual for the transmitter, which would be set up in McCoy and Natira's private quarters -- probably in the "living room."

The rest had been beamed into the master bedroom... with Natira's permission, of course. She was reluctant at first, but soon gave in. There was little she could, or would, deny McCoy now. Even if she was going to lose him in the end, what mattered was that she would be with him and see to it that every moment in the last year of his life was happy. Perhaps she would even become pregnant, even if he never saw their child. At least it would be something more to live for after he was gone.

SEVEN

The Captain's voice brought her back to reality. "Well, I guess that's everything. I had the transmitter beamed over with an instruction manual. Your personal effects were beamed into the master bedroom. You and Natira can take over from here." Kirk's voice almost broke; McCoy looked upon his long-time friend, seeing tears in the hazel eyes -- tears held back by a supreme effort of will. The Doctor's own eyes filled as he moved toward Kirk; the next moment found them in each other's arms. "I wish you and Natira every happiness, Bones. God bless you both."

"Thank you, Jim. Take care of yourself now. Spock too," he whispered. Louder, he said, "Have you decided on my replacement yet?"

Kirk shook his head. "I've had too much else on my mind." McCoy nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak for a few moments.

"I think M'Benga will do for a temporary CMO until you make a choice." McCoy fought to keep his voice steady.

"I'll keep him in mind," Kirk promised -- then the two hugged fiercely once again, holding each other as if it meant their lives. "I'm going to miss you, Bones. It'd be easier to tear my heart out than leave you behind, knowing I'll never see you again."

"Jim..." Kirk could detect the pain in the Doctor's voice. McCoy hugged him one last time with all his strength, then reluctantly released him. At this point McCoy turned back to Spock, wanting to hug the Vulcan as he had hugged Jim, but wondered if he dared, even now.

He couldn't help noting the stiff, rigid posture the Vulcan had adopted, facial expression carefully neutral -- but McCoy knew how much effort was going into the seemingly flawless control. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye, Spock." The Doctor forced himself to sound normal.

"Yes, Doctor," was the tightly controlled reply.

"Take care of Jim... and yourself, too. Don't take too many foolish chances. Doctor's orders!" Try as he might, McCoy could only muster up a semblance of his usual gruff facade and was sure Spock sensed it.

"I will endeavor to do so," the latter assured him before raising a hand in the Vulcan salute. "I wish you peace and happiness with your new wife." The remark was quiet, but McCoy detected the emotion behind the statement and smiled in appreciation.

Spock had intended to say, "Peace and long life," or "Live long and prosper," but in view of the Doctor's illness, they didn't seem appropriate. McCoy had never been able to part his fingers properly, but decided to give it one last shot for Spock's sake. After a few tense moments, he lifted his hand in an awkward but sincere salute.

"Live long and prosper, Spock."

The Vulcan raised one upswept brow, then allowed himself a half-smile. "Thank you, Doctor."

Then the two simply stared at each other for a long time before McCoy said, "One last thing, Spock. You can refuse to do it, of course, but I thought I'd ask anyway since we'll quite probably never see each other again..." The Doctor's voice trailed off.

"What is it?"

"May I hug you?" There was silence for a seemingly endless time before the Vulcan inclined his head.

"Very well, Doctor, as long as you keep it brief." A moment later, the Vulcan found McCoy's arms around him, hugging him tightly for a moment -- then surprised them both by returning the hug, holding his second-best friend close for a few seconds. They parted a moment later; Spock saw the gratitude and appreciation in the Doctor's blue eyes, along with a mist of tears.

"Christine wished me to convey to you her wish for your happiness in your marriage, Doctor... and that she will miss you."

"I'm -- going to miss her too," McCoy confessed. "Tell her that too for me, if you will." The Vulcan nodded.

"Spock." Kirk's voice brought him back to reality. "Scotty's standing by to beam us back. We've got to go." Spock acknowledged Kirk with a nod, joining him a few feet away in the deserted corridor where McCoy stood with Natira, one arm around her again. Kirk flipped open his communicator and spoke into it. "Energize, Scotty." His eyes met McCoy's one last time. "Do your utmost to find a cure, Bones."

"Count on it." The Captain and Spock's last glimpse of their friend as they dematerialized was of him burying his face in Natira's hair as he held her close, having been unable to say "goodbye" for the final time. McCoy had no idea it would be so hard to see them go.

* * *

Several minutes passed before McCoy released his wife and lifted his head. In the meantime, she stroked his hair and kissed the ear nearest her lips. "I know how difficult it must be for you to part from your friends, my husband. It is obvious that you are very fond of them."

McCoy merely nodded as his eyes closed in pain. "Do you wish to rest now?" she asked. He nodded again. "Very well; we shall retire to our chambers, and I will take steps to ensure that we are not disturbed."

That prompted a wan smile; the couple departed for their private quarters a short distance away. They arrived within moments and headed straight to the master bedroom, oblivious to his belongings sitting around. Time enough for him to settle in later, McCoy told himself. Now all he wanted to do was sleep.

Natira donned a long, thin, lacey apricot-colored nightgown while the doctor wore only his underwear. The bedroom was draped in moss-green velvet, an identical bedspread on the queen-size bed, surrounded by a mint-green carpet. A large pale green globular lamp stood on the bedside table and there was a hint of her exotic perfume in the air. McCoy was amazed at how long Natira's hair really was. Unbound, it reached halfway to her knees and took close to an hour to brush out. He also noted how she had to coil it around one arm to keep it out of the way while she walked. He could imagine how long it took to put up in the morning.

The couple ended up sharing one large pillow, even though there were two on the bed. Within minutes of lying down, Natira knew her husband had fallen asleep by his intermittent snores and rhythmic breathing. She rested her head on his chest, one ear over his heart to listen to the rapid but steady beat, falling asleep an hour later after counting his heartbeats like most people would count sheep. His embrace gently tightened as he slept; she sighed, savoring the warmth and strength of his arms and body. They slept soundly like this for the rest of the night; no one and nothing disturbed them.

* * *

Almost from the day McCoy was left behind, he worked to discover a cure for the affliction robbing him of a long, productive life. Forty-seven was too young to die; there was so much more he'd wanted to accomplish. It wasn't fair that the opportunity to make up for his earlier mistakes was to be snatched away from him. Not only professional but personal ones.

However, in between work and married life with Natira, he missed his friends -- more than he ever dreamed possible. Sometimes she could love his cares away; other times nothing she did brought him solace. Jim had always had a penchant for driving himself too hard and too far, as did Spock, who seemed to believe himself all but indestructible because of his Vulcan heritage, often going without sleep or food in order to complete a project he considered "logical."

Nothing he said or did seemed to sink in. It usually took a direct order, backed by Jim, for Spock to cut back even a little, take care of himself -- and even then that was only until the latest crisis was past. And this had been when he was there! What was it like now on the Enterprise? How were Jim and Spock doing? What of M'Benga? Was he still acting CMO or had Jim found a replacement? What about Christine? How was she holding up? No one knew better than he how difficult it was to adjust to a new situation, especially if it involved leaving one's family or close friends.

So many unanswered questions... He wished he could have been with them again, if only for a few minutes. Unfortunately, they were well out of range of the transmitter by now. In addition, had Spock done what he'd asked -- gave Christine his message, then hugged and kissed her on the cheek? He had never known the Vulcan to break his word once he had given it, but still... Natira's voice brought him back to reality.

"Please come to bed, my husband. You must be very tired -- and your late hours and hard work can only aggravate your illness." He looked up to find her standing in the doorway of the lab.

McCoy smiled but shook his head. "I don't have time to waste, Natira. I feel it in my bones. I'm this close" -- he held up his right thumb and forefinger just barely apart -- "to discovering a cure."

She didn't give up. "Would it be such a 'crime,' as you say, to 'take a break' -- have some rest, then bathe and eat before returning to work? I could give you a back rub after you bathe and eat... then you could sleep for a time."

Her voice was quiet, almost mournful. He had been working so hard, been so preoccupied that he had not felt up to making love to her for almost a week. Natira was so sweet and patient with him and his myriad moods, which alternated between an almost euphoric state of happiness to bouts of almost unbearable loneliness -- as well as the illness manifesting itself as it worsened in spite of all he could do.

There was hypertension accompanied by dizziness, headaches and a sense of fullness in the head, if not angina (heart pain) and shortness of breath, as though he was having a heart attack. On top of this was his anger and frustration at the cure being so close, yet so elusive. There were times he felt guilty for marrying Natira, knowing the heartbreak she would endure when the end finally came. How could he subject her to such pain -- or to what she was enduring now? Then he smiled as he recalled what she had told him shortly before their marriage.

She would be happy with whatever time they could share together and do her utmost to see that his remaining days were happy and filled with love. How could he ever have been deemed worthy of such as her? He put his equipment down and smiled at her again. Her eyes seemed to sparkle like diamonds as she returned his smile, dimples deepening at the corners of her mouth as she held out a hand to him.

"Come then, my husband. You can bathe, then I will rub your back and shoulders before sending for your meal."

In spite of his wish to continue working, McCoy could not resist his wife's entreaty and took her hand, allowing her to lead him back to their private quarters. Even so, he was planning a different ending than Natira did. His mouth watered at the thought of the meal he would soon have. Unlike the processed edibles aboard ship, it was honest-to-God food, cooked to his personal specifications. He had told her his favorite foods and how to prepare them, never dreaming that anything could taste so delicious.

A table for two was set up in a small alcove in their large bedroom, next to their shared bathroom and closet. He enjoyed being able to wear civilian clothes again, colorful robes reminiscent of the "coat of many colors" in the Old Testament story of Joseph and his eleven brothers. How long had it been since he had been able to run around barefoot or in sandals? He intended for them to make love after his meal. Sleep could come later. She had waited long enough, as had he. At the end of the meal, he would look up at her with a provocative smile.

She would return it; they would then stand up and join hands. Lastly, he would lead her to the bed and sit down beside her before lowering her to it while kissing her. After slipping her robe and nightgown from her first, that is... He had decided that he wanted a child -- and even though it was an insane, illogical desire because he would in all likelihood never see his child or hold it, the knowledge that he would have one (with luck) would have to suffice. In the meantime, however, he'd best get cracking while he still could.

EIGHT

In spite of McCoy's difficulties, they were minor compared to Kirk's. It was tough enough to choose a CMO under the best of circumstances, but to have to do it while still mourning the loss of his oldest friend made it doubly hard... even with all the candidates he had to choose from. He not only had to choose a competent physician, it had to be someone tolerant of Vulcan idiosyncrasies and trained in their physiology. M'Benga had done well so far, but the strain was beginning to show on him. He didn't know how to delegate authority like Bones did. Like the Vulcans he specialized in, the Bantu doctor had a penchant for wanting to do everything himself.

For that reason, Kirk knew he had to choose a permanent CMO before too much longer. It had been nearly three months since they had had to leave Yonada and Bones behind. How many times had he addressed questions or given orders to someone who wasn't there any more, or called M'Benga by the wrong name? The latter had been tolerant at first, but even his patience was beginning to wear thin. He was asking more and more often when the Captain would be choosing a permanent replacement.

There were also times Kirk was tempted to delegate the job to Spock. The Vulcan would have had it done a long time ago. But no, he couldn't foist this off on Spock; it was his job... the Captain's job. Even so, how was he going to do it? No matter who he chose, he would always be comparing them with Bones, whether he meant to or not -- and how long would they tolerate it? Everyone deserved to be judged on their own merits, not someone else's. The door buzzer brought the despondent Captain back to reality.

"Come," he said, not having the energy or will to stand up and greet his visitor.

"Captain?" came Spock's rich baritone.

"In here," Kirk called from his work area. A moment later the tall Vulcan appeared in the doorway. "I felt your distress, Jim. Are you having difficulty?"

Kirk forced a smile. "Some. It's not easy to choose a CMO these days -- there are so many qualified candidates."

His voice held a false brightness, which the Vulcan immediately detected. "You also never expected to have this responsibility so soon," the First Officer said quietly.

Kirk's face seemed to sag. "Dammit, Spock, why did this have to happen? Why did Bones have to become ill, and why did Westervliet have to order me to leave him behind? It was hard enough to leave him as it was..." The Captain's voice trailed off as his head bowed in pain, tears burning his eyelids.

The Vulcan put gentle hands on his friend's shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. "Jim, I understand how you must feel, but there is nothing we can do to change matters. All we can do is continue our mission -- and choosing another Chief Medical Officer is part of that mission."

"But he wasn't just CMO, Spock, he was our friend. How can I ever replace him?"

"You cannot, Jim -- at least not in your heart or mind -- but intellectually..."

"That's easy for you to say," Kirk cut in bitterly. "This isn't your decision to make, it's mine."

"Anger and bitterness will accomplish nothing, Jim." The Vulcan's voice was infinitely soothing. "In addition, the Doctor would not wish you to be in pain because of him."

But I am, Kirk thought sadly. God help me, I am!

"May I be of assistance?" Spock asked. "After all, you have always said that 'two heads are better than one.'"

The offer was tempting, even at the best of times, and this definitely wasn't. "I'd appreciate any help you could give, Spock."

The Vulcan pulled up the extra chair sitting nearby and placed it next to Kirk's, gracefully folding his long, lanky body into it in order to scan what was on the Captain's viewscreen.

"Have you made any progress at all in regards to choosing the next Chief Medical Officer?"

"Well, I've narrowed it down to six," Kirk reluctantly admitted.

"Then let us go through their biographies and see if a choice can be made."

Kirk found himself calling up the first name -- a British physician by the name of Robert James Kensington, a man with blue eyes, brown hair and a craggy face reminiscent of McCoy's. Two differences were likely, however... the other doctor had a mustache, and his accent was probably as British as Bones' was Southern. Kensington was in his early forties and a noted xenobiologist as well as an accomplished physician -- but best of all, he had interned in a Vulcan hospital like M'Benga and done post-graduate work on Rigel V. Perhaps he had found his new CMO, and didn't realize it yet. All the same, he owed the others a chance to be considered.

"Dr. Kensington seems eminently suitable," the Vulcan remarked after perusing the viewscreen.

"So he does," Kirk agreed, "but we owe the others a chance for consideration before making a final choice."

Spock could find no fault with his Captain's logic. "Very well," he said. "Let us see the other five candidates."

* * *

McCoy would have been pleased to know that Spock had indeed acted on his request to thank Christine for him by hugging and kissing her. The Vulcan knew it wouldn't be easy for him, but it was the last thing the Doctor would ever ask of him, so it was only logical to grant the request. Christine was pleased but shocked that Spock actually followed through. He wasn't one to agree with McCoy, especially where emotions were concerned -- but whatever the reasons for his action, what mattered to her was that he did it. She was doing some lab work at 1800 hours the evening after leaving Yonada and McCoy behind when she felt eyes watching her. The nurse lifted her head and turned it to discover Spock standing a few feet away, at the end of the counter where she worked.

"Oh, Spock. What brings you here?"

"I was able to deliver your message to Dr. McCoy," he reported.

"And?" Her heart was lightened at the knowledge in spite of her sadness at leaving Leonard behind.

"He gave me a message for you."

"What is it?" She turned to face him.

"He expressed his appreciation for your caring about him and wishes you all the best in your own life -- and that he will miss you. In addition, he asked me to give you something from him."

"Such as?"

"This," was the one-word reply. The nurse went pale when the Vulcan stepped up to her and delivered the promised hug and kiss on the cheek. Christine's knees went weak but she managed to keep her feet by hanging onto the counter. For a long time there was silence, then Spock looked at her with controlled concern. "Christine, are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," she assured him. He had turned toward the door when she called to him. "Spock?"

"What?"

"Thank you." Her smile held a mixture of gratitude and love.

"For what?" His brows rose.

"Caring about Dr. McCoy." She waited to see what Spock's reaction would be.

"It was my duty," he rejoined coolly. "After all, he would not be seeing you again, so he could not do it himself. It was only logical that I grant his last request."

Christine smiled knowingly, seeing through the First Officer's transparent facade. He was missing Leonard every bit as much as she was, if not more... and she intended to see that he knew she knew.

"Of course, Spock. How could I forget? Well, I must get back to work now. I'll see you later." With that, she turned back to the counter and her work.

He raised an eyebrow at her once again, a tad surprised and hurt at her abrupt termination of their short conversation, but pleased that she had handled herself so professionally in his presence. With one last look at her, he noted her golden head bent over her work, one slender hand adjusting a control of the holo-microscope she was using -- then made a quick perusal of the rest of her before departing.

NINE

With Spock's help, Kirk made his decision on a new CMO. He still hurt a lot over Bones ... always would... but life had to go on. He sent a communique to Starfleet Command informing them of his choice and a stargram to the British physician, presently serving as assistant to the Surgeon General at Fleet Headquarters. As expected, Kensington jumped at the chance to serve on the legendary Enterprise under the even more legendary Captain James Kirk. Kirk received an affirmative answer to his summons within a week. Robert James Kensington, M.D. would be waiting for them at Starbase 27 when they arrived in a matter of days.

The Captain and Spock agreed not to tell the crew until after a choice had been made -- and even then only two others would be privy to the information: M'Benga, so he could prepare for his replacement's arrival, and Uhura. No one else needed to know until the new CMO had actually arrived. In the meantime, Kirk schooled himself to take the man on his own merits and do his utmost not to compare him with McCoy in any way. Pain stabbed through Kirk like a knife at the thought of his friend and former CMO. He prayed Bones was happy, but at the same time missed him more than he imagined possible.

He had meant to check on McCoy every month, see how he was doing and if he had come up with a cure for his illness -- as well as how it was affecting him. He resolved to do better in the future; they had only spoken once in three months. There wouldn't be too many more chances. How long would Bones be able to function and keep all his faculties? Kirk knew that if there was one thing McCoy hated, it was being (or feeling) helpless, personally or professionally. As a rule, doctors made notoriously bad patients. McCoy was at his best when active and busy. How must it be for him now, with the illness sapping his strength and energy with every passing day?

Uhura's voice brought the Captain back to reality. "Sir, Starbase 27 is hailing us."

Kirk's head jerked up and his eyes snapped open; he swivelled his chair to face the comm station and the beautiful Bantu occupying it. "Uhura, open hailing frequency. Starbase 27, this is Captain James T. Kirk," he said upon opening the ship-to-surface intercom. "Is our new CMO prepared to beam aboard?"

"Standing by in the Transporter Room," came a Southern-accented female voice in reply, prompting a poignant memory and a wave of agony which slashed at Kirk's heart like an animal's claws. Bones... his mind whispered as his eyes filled with tears and closed in pain. At that moment a familiar gentle voice cut through the haze of misery.

"Jim?" Kirk looked up to find Spock beside his chair; he forced a smile.

"I'm all right, Spock," the Captain assured his Vulcan friend. "Just got sentimental for a minute. Let's go meet our new CMO." His voice was only audible to sensitive Vulcan ears. Kirk hesitated to speak louder because the rest of the crew would detect his pain; in addition, only Spock could know or comprehend it. Not only because of his bond with, but his ever-present empathy for, his Human Captain and friend. Kirk dared not lower his personal barriers, nor would he allow anyone as close to him as Bones had been. There was only Spock to fill that role now, and even as close as they were, Kirk couldn't help but wonder if even the Vulcan's friendship would be enough.

"Energize," Kirk said into the intercom before closing it and stiffly rising to his feet. The Vulcan watched with increasing concern as the Captain turned for the turbolift and said to Sulu as he passed the helm station, "Mr. Sulu, you have the con. We will be in the Transporter Room greeting the new CMO."

The Asian nodded and said, "Aye, sir," vacating the helm station and seating himself in the command chair even as his relief helmsman, Lt. Hansen, replaced him.

Spock was one step behind him on the way to the turbolift; once the doors slid closed behind them, Kirk's facade dropped like a piece of clothing that has been removed. The two friends exchanged a look of shared grief and empathy at the memory and loss of McCoy before moving into each other's arms. Kirk's head rested on his Vulcan friend's shoulder as the Captain allowed himself to relax in the comforting, gentle strength of Spock's arms. Oh God, I miss Bones, the latter's mind spoke to the Vulcan's own. I feel as though a part of myself is gone. His pain was evident in spite of his best efforts.

As do I, Spock hesitantly admitted, unsure of how he and the new CMO would get along. With McCoy, he knew what to expect. The oncoming CMO was an unknown quantity.

Buck up, my friend. We have a job to do, Kirk's mind responded, his instinctive protectiveness of Spock kicking in as he shelved his own grief.

Indeed, came the reply.

The Vulcan comforted and was comforted as the Captain and First Officer of the starship Enterprise held each other in the privacy of the turbolift making its way to Deck 7 and the Transporter Room where their new CMO was waiting. The turbolift car stopped moments later; the two commanding officers released each other and again donned their customary masks as they stepped out onto Deck 7. They entered the Transporter Room a short time later; a tall slender man was stepping off the transporter platform, carrying a large, well-packed duffel bag, which he handled with such practiced ease that even Spock was impressed.

He didn't look strong enough to lift even half of what that bag must weigh, much less all of it. Obviously looks were deceiving, in more ways than one. The fortyish man wore a tan jumpsuit with gold belt and brown boots, a reddish-brown cloak with a high collar covering him to his knees. Very old-world of him, Kirk observed, a wry grin twisting his lips even as he extended his hand in greeting.

The new arrival raised a thick head of wavy brown hair streaked with grey, topping a craggy face so much like Bones' own that Kirk doubted his own senses. Even the sharply arched brows and deep-set blue eyes with a mischievous twinkle in them were the same. Not to mention the man's arresting smile and strong handshake. However, the illusion was soon dispelled by the thick brown-and-grey mustache the man sported as well as the voice which came out of the McCoy-esque face. It was as far removed from Bones' Georgia drawl as Earth was from Vulcan.

"I say, old boy, it's good to be on the Enterprise. I've been wanting an assignment like this ever since I joined Starfleet. It was like a dream come true when you contacted me and said to report to Starbase 27 as your new Chief Medical Officer. Even so, it's deucedly unfortunate about Dr. McCoy. I have admired him for many years, and wish I could have met him."

Kirk smiled in spite of himself. This man was impossible not to like, even though he reserved judgement as to the possibility of a friendship between them. For the moment, he would see how the new CMO reacted to Spock. He needn't have worried. The British physician prompted a startled but pleased eyebrow from the Vulcan when he lifted his right hand, fingers parted in the Vulcan salute as naturally as Spock himself did -- something McCoy had never been able to do without discomfort. Spock couldn't help a surreptitious glance in the Captain's direction even as he prepared to return the salute.

"Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock. I'm looking forward to working with you." Spock marveled at the fact that a Human could have spoken in flawless Vulcan, without a trace of accent. Even Sarek would have been impressed. Perhaps Dr. Kensington knew him; that may have been where he had learned the language. He would have to ask at the first opportunity.

"Live long and prosper, Dr. Kensington. I am sure we will work well together," Spock replied as he saluted.

"Call me R.J. Everybody does." Kensington looked at Kirk out of the corner of his eye. "That applies to you as well, Captain." Kirk smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. "Fair warning: I won't answer to anything else -- at least not from the two of you."

"We'll keep that in mind," the Captain assured him. "I'd better show you your new quarters now, then you can go to Sickbay and familiarize yourself with it. Dr. M'Benga is acting CMO; you'll probably find him in the Chief Surgeon's office. He should be able to answer any questions you may have."

"Thank you, Captain," Kensington said with a smile. "Let's go. I'm anxious to get settled in." The three headed for the Transporter Room doors, Kirk and Spock flanking the new CMO. They would always miss McCoy, no matter how personable R.J. was, but if Bones couldn't be here, then R.J. was the next best thing.

The duffel bag's strap suddenly slid, sending the heavy bag to the floor. The doctor would have joined it had it not been for his escorts. However, he politely waved them off when they reached to help with the bag, stunning them both once again as he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder a second time as though it weighed nothing.

"Isn't that heavy, Doctor -- R.J.?" Kirk barely caught himself in time.

"Nothing I can't handle, Captain," Kensington smiled again. "I'm used to it."

They had nearly reached the turbolift which would take them to Deck Five and the CMO's quarters when Kensington stopped in his tracks. Kirk and Spock followed suit. "It would be flattering to have the two of you as escorts, but I'm sure you need to get back to the Bridge, Captain. If you like, I'd be glad to come to your quarters for a talk later on."

This was done so diplomatically that Kirk could not bring himself to feel insulted. He was a little disappointed, but could live with it as long as he and the new doctor got to talk later on.

"You may return to the Bridge, Captain. I will rejoin you shortly," Spock said, shocking Kirk by displaying uncharacteristic eagerness. The Vulcan had never been like this, even when McCoy first came aboard. Curiosity about a new crewman was understandable, but this...

"Spock, what the hell--"

"Captain, please go." The First Officer's voice was gentle but firm. Kirk made his farewells and reluctantly continued a short distance down the corridor before stepping into a turbolift which would take him to the Bridge.

"All right, if you say so. Get back as soon as you can." The Vulcan barely spared him a nod before continuing on with Kensington to another turbolift car which would take them to Deck Five and the latter's new quarters... McCoy's former quarters, which had been cleaned and prepared for its next occupant. M'Benga had opted to remain in his existing quarters for the duration of his tenure as acting CMO.

Spock had noted the Captain's surprise at his seemingly contradictory actions, but in reality they could be explained quite logically. He merely wished to find out how a Human could possibly speak Vulcan so fluently and without a trace of accent. Once he got the British physician alone, he asked with typical Vulcan bluntness.

Kensington took it in stride. "Simple, Mr. Spock. Once I learned I was to intern on Vulcan, I thought it would be -- logical, as you say -- to learn the language, so I recruited a Vulcan acquaintance of mine to instruct me. He was a hard taskmaster, but it was worth it. I was able to 'rattle off' Vulcan with the best of them once he finished with me. Incidentally, the Vulcans at the hospital where I interned were just as surprised as you were. In fact they often commented how 'fascinating,' as you put it, it was that a Human could speak Vulcan so fluently. That's really all there is to it."

"Was it my father, the Vulcan Ambassador, who was your acquaintance? It sounds like something he would do."

The Human looked surprised, then smiled and shook his head, teeth gleaming through his thick mustache. "Oh, no. I've never met the Ambassador. It was one of my former classmates. You say you're Sarek's son?" Spock nodded. "By God!" Kensington's head shook in wonder.

At this point, the two reached the Chief Surgeon's quarters. The door programming had been changed after McCoy's departure, so it was ready to accept whatever code the new CMO chose. "Here is your quarters, Doctor," Spock said. "If there is anything you need, simply--"

"R.J.," the doctor cut in as smoothly as a knife through butter.

"Very well -- R.J.," the Vulcan said, brows rising at the Human's commanding tone. In his own way, Dr. Kensington was as stubborn as Dr. McCoy -- but like the Captain, much time would have to pass before he could make even a cautious attempt at friendship... and even then, he would probably need Jim to help him.

It would also be necessary for him to see how Dr. Kensington reacted under stress, like during an epidemic with a shortage of proper drugs or trained personnel... or heavy crew casualties, particularly if he or the Captain was among them. So far Dr. Kensington hadn't insulted or teased him, even good-naturedly, as McCoy always had. Of course, this didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't, given time or sufficient reason -- but neither did it mean that he would. In spite of his efforts at suppressing it, Spock was unable to control a moment of pain at the thought of McCoy. As the Doctor had often said, "You never know how much someone means to you until they're gone."

Only now, with the Doctor light-years and months behind them, did he know the true meaning of that statement. Even if he did manage to develop a friendship with the new CMO, there would always be a secret part of his well guarded but all-too-tender heart that would always belong to Leonard McCoy. It was regrettable that the Doctor would never know how his unique brand of friendship, alternate doses of toughness, teasing and tenderness... had touched Spock in ways that the Vulcan hadn't imagined possible -- ways that even Jim never had, simply by virtue of the differences between them.

"I think I can find my way to Sickbay from here. Thank you for your help. Again, live long and prosper." The new CMO repeated the salute, and Spock returned it.

"Thank you... R.J. I must return to the Bridge now."

Kensington nodded and smiled as he turned to the sleeping alcove and set the duffel bag on the bed to unpack. He marveled at the transparency of the Vulcan's so-called logic. Even so, he sensed that Spock was fiercely proud of his Vulcan heritage and wouldn't have chosen any other way of life, however difficult that must be for him because of the attendant emotions visited upon him by his Human ancestry.

Kirk he couldn't judge until he had actually sat down and talked with him -- as well as seen how the Captain reacted under stress. If the rumors about him, his command prowess, were true, it was very likely that Kirk had earned every accolade bestowed on him. Meanwhile, he had best unpack and get himself settled in, have something to eat and a spot of tea, then a good night's sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to meet the rest of the crew... not to mention his new colleagues and subordinates in Sickbay.

TEN

Thankfully McCoy's illness did not seem to worsen much more in the ensuing weeks -- at least not as far as he could tell. His main worry (as far as Natira was concerned) was his friends. He seemed to miss them more with every passing day. In fact, she had caught him looking at the holograph of himself with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock several times in the last week alone. Perhaps it was too painful, too emotionally draining on him to speak with them via the transmitter, even though he had seemed very happy to do so the one time she remembered just over three months ago.

One positive note -- Natira was certain that she was pregnant. She had not had her monthly flow this month, and the two of them had shared many tenderly passionate nights over the past several weeks. Natira prayed every night to the Creators that it was so, that she would have a child of McCoy's to give her another reason for living after he had joined the Creators and all who had gone before.

In between his work and their daily life, he had spent many hours telling her of his family, his life and childhood in Georgia on Earth... as well as Earth customs, expressions and such. Some were incomprehensible to her, but Natira reminded herself that the same was true of her husband where the People's customs and traditions were concerned. However, she respected his beliefs and never attempted to get him to change them, as he did hers. It pleased her that they so far had managed a most satisfying blend of their two philosophies. Her only regret was that she would lose him before she could learn all he could teach her.

A year was not enough time, nor was an ordinary lifetime -- but she never voiced this to him, grateful for the time they would share together and the child she was certain she now carried. She was silent for a time, watching him from their open bedroom door. It was only when he set the holograph down on the nightstand on his side of the bed that he happened to catch a movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Natira, how long have you been standing there?" He was uncomfortable with the possibility that she had seen him lingering over the holo of himself with Jim and Spock.

"Not long," she said evasively as she moved to join him, sitting down next to him on the bed. The couple moved into each other's arms and held each other after sharing a kiss. This was one of McCoy's "good" days, when his illness didn't seem to be bothering him so much -- but Natira knew they never lasted long, no matter how he tried to conceal it from her.

As time passed, more symptoms had manifested themselves: pain in his joints, an enlarged liver and spleen, and a reddish complexion which made him look like he had a perpetual fever. Not to mention increased weakness and dizziness, usually accompanied by headaches, some of a migraine intensity. Sometimes he was incapacitated for days on end, unable to get out of bed, and she had to care for his every need as if he was a newborn baby. Even so, he had remained steadfastly optimistic, not allowing his physical condition to get him down... if only for her sake, often telling her there wasn't anything he couldn't cure if he put his mind to it.

Unfortunately, he had begun to spend more time in bed than in the lab working in recent days. He had often commented how frustrating and monotonous it was to be unable to do anything for himself, but did his best not to take it out on her if he could help it -- and made sure to show affection to her as often as possible -- usually with a kiss, an embrace or squeeze of her hand. When they were in bed, he would caress and kiss her when he didn't feel up to making love to her. It had been nearly two weeks since their last physical joining -- but Natira could live with that as long as she could feel McCoy's arms around her and his body close to hers.

For the last several days the Doctor had been worrying what could be going on with Jim, Spock, Christine and the Enterprise. Jim had promised to contact him whenever the Enterprise was in the vicinity of Yonada, but they had only talked once in three months. It had been six since their departure and his marriage to Natira -- but the way he was deteriorating, he would be lucky to live long enough to see their child, much less enjoy the benefits of ruling beside his wife once they reached the new planet the Creators had promised. In the absence of his friends, Natira was the only one he could turn to for solace. He hoped she would be able to soothe his fears with her touch, her kiss and gentle, dovelike voice.

"You saw me, didn't you?" he asked in a scolding tone.

"Yes, my husband." Her tone was apologetic, her lovely face reflecting regret for having witnessed something she was not meant to see. He was touched by the sincerity of her penitence and his voice softened.

"Don't worry; I'm not holding it against you. My bark is worse than my bite. Another Earth expression," he explained at her frown. He tightened his embrace as she moved closer to him. "Didn't mean to scare you, honey. I'm just a grouchy ol' bear sometimes. I only wish--" His voice trailed off until she could scarcely hear him, but his pain was evident nonetheless.

"Your friends?" He nodded sadly. "What do you think is preventing them from contacting you?"

"I don't know. It could be any number of things," he said, kissing the top of her head before resting his cheek on it. At this point the sound of insistent beeping reached their ears. Both turned their heads to note a flashing red light on the subspace transmitter. McCoy's eyes lit up. "Well, I'll be...! You'd think they read my mind or something. How's that for timing? Help me over to the chair by the transmitter."

He was weak and wobbly, needing Natira's arm to make it to the chair, a handful of steps away beside the table where the transmitter now sat. He had moved it a few months ago while he still could. Only he and Natira were able to go into their private chambers. Even their attendants didn't enter unless invited. The living room was as far as they were allowed otherwise.

Of course, if McCoy became worse, Natira knew that she would have to relax the restrictions. Her medical knowledge of him was limited to what he had taught her. Those of the People were taught from childhood how to stay healthy, so there was rarely any real need for the medical arts unless someone became seriously injured... and that happened only infrequently, since the People were taught all manner of safety precautions as well. McCoy did what he could when he could, medically speaking -- otherwise his time was spent in the lab working on a cure for his illness. He couldn't understand why it remained so maddeningly close, yet so elusive. Maybe he wasn't meant to find it...

Natira placed him in the chair and gave him the microphone. He rested his right arm on the table, adjusting the mike so he could speak into it. "Bones! Bones, are you there? Do you hear me?" Kirk's welcome voice came from the speaker next to the transmitter.

"I'm here, Jim," he said quietly as he winced at a sharp pain in his gut. It was as though someone had knifed him there -- and there was a taste in his mouth which seemed a cross between bile and sour milk, which remained no matter how much (or what) he drank to disguise the taste. It was part of his illness, something he had to live with as best he could -- while he was still alive.

"Why has it taken so long for you to contact me again? It's been three months." McCoy sounded hurt and reproachful.

"I'm sorry, Bones, but we've had a lot of exhausting missions. You understand."

"Oh, do I ever!" McCoy laughed -- carefully, so he wouldn't hurt any more than he already did. "How're y'all doing?"

"Getting along," Kirk evaded. The false brightness in his voice alerted McCoy.

"Jim, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kirk insisted. "Everything's fine."

"Don't con me, Jim. You're the worst liar I know. Out with it."

McCoy's tone was a command, so Kirk sighed. "I never could hide anything from you," he reluctantly admitted. "We miss you, that's all. It's not the same without you."

"I know what you mean, but I'm happy otherwise. Guess what? Natira says she's pregnant! She told me last night."

"Congratulations, Bones. I'm thrilled for you," came the sincere, if too quiet, reply. "How are you feeling? Any closer to a cure?"

"As well as can be expected -- but no, I still haven't found a cure, though I'm real close." Natira knew her husband had been saying that for the last several months, noting that he neglected to mention that fact to Captain Kirk. "I haven't felt much like working lately -- though I intend to get back to it as soon as possible."

"You mustn't give up," Kirk insisted.

"Oh, don't worry, I haven't," McCoy assured him. "Were you ever able to choose a new CMO? Last time we talked, M'Benga was still acting CMO."

"Oh, yes. About two months ago. British guy, R.J. Kensington. He interned in a Vulcan hospital like M'Benga, and get this... he can speak Vulcan like a native, and do the salute as though he's done it every day of his life."

"I can imagine what Spock thought of him," McCoy chuckled.

"Oh, he was surprised, that's for sure -- but at the same time, very pleased. I'll say that much," Kirk admitted.

"How's he doing? Spock, I mean?" the Doctor asked quietly. "And don't tell him this, but I miss him. The only one I can argue with around here is myself. Natira absolutely refuses. It's no fun, but she does spoil me rotten, which I suppose makes up for it."

"I bet you love that," Kirk teased. "Spock's fine... and he misses you too, though I don't expect him to ever admit it. Kensington gets along so well with him -- everyone, in fact -- that the atmosphere's almost boring. I've gotten so used to you and Spock bickering that I miss the absence of it."

"Now that's one for the record books! He must be some kind of miracle worker like Scotty..." The Doctor's voice trailed off as weakness and dizziness began descending on him. "I'd better sign off now, Jim; I'm not feeling too good. Give my best to Spock, Christine, and the gang. Talk to you later. Take care of yourself now. Doctor's orders!"

"I'll try," Kirk said. "Keep up the good work, and congratulations again on Natira's pregnancy."

Natira helped McCoy stand up, then picked up the microphone. "Captain, are you still there?" she asked. Kirk said he was. "May I speak with you a few moments? I just need to put my husband to bed. He is very tired." Kirk assured her he would hang on. "Thank you. I will not be long."

She returned a few minutes later, having settled McCoy in bed, lying comfortably and making sure he was breathing, not in too much pain, before kissing his forehead and stroking his hair after removing his shoes and pulling a blanket over him. She picked up the microphone again after seating herself.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Natira, I'm here."

"My beloved is dying." Her voice was laced with tears. "He gets worse by the day."

"I suspected that. Is there anything we can do for you? I know how much pain you must be feeling right now, with a dying husband and a baby on the way."

"I estimate that he has three months left to live, maximum."

"I didn't know you knew anything about medicine." Kirk was surprised.

"He has taught me some," Natira admitted. "Captain, I would give everything I have -- even my own life -- to save him!"

"So would I." Kirk's heart went out to the bereaved woman. "He was one of my closest friends."

"Captain, there is one thing I would ask of you. Please contact his daughter Joanna. My husband wishes to 'mend fences' with her before it is too late."

"I have no idea where she is, Natira. He hasn't mentioned her in years."

"He gave me her last known whereabouts." She relayed the information to him; Kirk wrote it down. "Please do this one last thing for him, Captain. I cannot."

"I'll do my best, but can't promise anything. She may not even be there anymore... and even if she is, she may be unable... or unwilling... to come."

"Please, Captain. If she could just speak with him one last time -- forgive him. He is dying." Her voice was husky with tears, her tone pleading.

"All right, I'll try," Kirk said in his gentlest voice. "I've got to go now. Talk to you later. Kirk out."

"Thank you, Captain. Farewell." With that, the connection was cut.

ELEVEN

According to what Natira had told him, Kirk determined that Joanna McCoy's last whereabouts had been on Deneb IV as assistant to the physician in the Federation colony there. He immediately ordered a course change to that planet, only saying that it was an emergency and that he would explain later. They were between missions, so there was no need to explain to Starfleet about the sudden change. Upon arrival, they learned that Joanna had departed the planet some weeks before to continue her education on Rigel II.

It had taken several days to reach Deneb IV, even at warp six, so Kirk ordered a temporary increase to warp seven -- and an even shorter (four hours) increase to warp eight in order to cut their arrival time at Rigel II. Warp eight was normally used only in emergencies, but if this didn't qualify, nothing did... finding Joanna McCoy and rushing her to her dying father's bedside.

Even so, they needed all the breaks they could get since there was no guarantee they would be able to convince Joanna of the urgency of the situation. Kirk became more on edge with every hour it took to reach Rigel II, because every passing moment was that much more off Bones' life. They couldn't afford to be slow.

Not even Spock could calm him completely. He wouldn't be satisfied until Joanna was aboard and they were on their way to Yonada -- of which the Captain had ordered continuous tracking. After a seemingly endless journey (even though it had only been a couple of days) they assumed orbit around Rigel II; Kirk told Uhura to hail the planetary authorities and explain their situation. They referred her to the main hospital, where Joanna was employed as a RN while taking additional courses in extraterrestrial physiology and exobiology. The administrator of the Colony II Medical Center was understanding and helpful, though it took a while to locate Joanna and convince her to beam up and accompany them.

The nurses' station on the 7th (Surgical) floor of the Rigellian hospital was answered on the second buzz. "Colony II Medical Center, Surgical Floor. This is Head Nurse Meri'lynn Klymystryn. How may I help you?"

Kirk's worried face appeared on the work station viewscreen. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation starship Enterprise. I need to locate one of your RNs, Ms. Joanna McCoy."

"What is your business with Joanna, Captain?" The nurse's voice was pleasant but faintly skeptical.

"I'm a close friend of her father's -- Leonard McCoy. I'm sure you've heard of him. He needs to see her."

"Yes, I know of him," the nurse acknowledged. "Why is it so urgent?"

"Because he is dying, and..."

The Rigellian nurse smoothly interrupted. "I see. I'm not sure where she is at the moment, but will have her paged for you."

"Thank you. Let me know when you find her." Fifteen minutes passed before there was another contact: minutes which seemed an eternity. Just as Kirk was sure he couldn't stand it one more second, Uhura swivelled toward him.

"Captain, the Colony II Medical Center is hailing us. It's Joanna McCoy."

"Thank God. Put her on, Uhura."

"This is Joanna McCoy," came the crisp voice of Leonard McCoy's only child. "What's going on with my father?"

"This is James Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise. I'm a--"

The twentyish woman with a short, shaggy cap of gleaming brown hair and ice-blue eyes smoothly interrupted. "You're a friend of Dad's, I know. He told me about you in one of the few letters I ever got from him. Most of the time I never knew what was going on with him or where he was... and after a couple of years, I can't say I cared. If he didn't care enough about me to keep in touch, why should I give a damn about him now?" Her voice was laced with pain and bitterness.

Kirk's reply was infinitely gentle. "Joanna, I can understand how you must feel. It was the same way with me and my father, which was part of the reason I never married. I didn't want to subject my children to what I went through."

Joanna sighed and arched a brow identical to her father's, but Kirk could see that her nose and lips were not his -- though she had his eyes and bone structure. "I'm very busy right now, Captain. What is it about Dad that you feel is so urgent for me to know?"

"He's dying."

"I see." Her reply was quiet. "So what do you expect me to do? I can't just drop everything here and leave -- nor can I simply erase all the hurt he's caused me."

"It's not so much what I want as what he wants. He wants to mend fences with you, Joanna... know that you can forgive him. Even if you don't mean it, say you do. Let him see you one last time -- let him die happy."

There was a pleading note in Kirk's voice; that reached Joanna more than anything he had said, and she could have sworn she saw tears in the Captain's eyes. "All right, I'll come, if it's that important. I have vacation time coming anyway. I'll see if they'll let me take it early."

"Thank you, Joanna. You won't regret it. Let me know if you need help. I can smooth the way for you... see that you get emergency leave."

"I appreciate the offer, Captain, but I've been on my own since I was eighteen. I think I'm capable of making all the necessary arrangements myself."

"All right. Contact me when you're ready to come aboard. I'll have you beamed up and settled into temporary quarters -- then take you to your father."

Joanna frowned. "Take me to him? You mean he's no longer aboard the Enterprise?"

"No; he remarried six months ago, quitting the Fleet to remain with his new wife after finding out he had a terminal illness."

"What is it?"

"Xenopolycythemia."

There was a shocked silence. "Oh, my God." The tone of her voice intimated that she knew what the disease was, and that it was fatal. "How long has he got?"

"The last I heard, roughly three months... but his wife said that he was worsening by the day. I would assume that to mean that we need to hurry. There's no time to lose."

"I'll be as quick as I can, Captain. I must go now. Joanna out."

Kirk leaned back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. She was Bones all over again as far as stubbornness was concerned -- but must still care about him, or else she would have never agreed to come, no matter what he said or did. It was two hours before another communication came from the planet.

"Captain, Ms. McCoy reports that she is ready to beam up."

"Tell Kyle to prepare to energize," he told Uhura. Kirk then contacted the Transporter Room himself. "Mr. Kyle, we have a guest coming aboard. I'm coming to meet her and will be there in a few minutes. Kirk out."

"Yes, sir," came the British-accented voice of the Transporter Chief. "Energizing now."

The Captain pressed the button to cut the connection, then turned to Spock. "You have the con, Spock. I'm going to greet our guest."

"Acknowledged."

The Vulcan made no further comment, though he looked at Kirk with increasing concern and empathy as the Captain headed for the turbolift. He could sense the pain Jim was experiencing at having to re-open the partially healed wound of McCoy's loss by having to contact his daughter and explain what was happening to her father, why he needed to see her. The new CMO seemed to fit in well so far, although there were still some who called him the wrong name, including Kirk. None of them would ever get used to McCoy being gone, Spock was sure of it.

It was fortunate that Kensington was likeable, easygoing, and understanding, but Spock was certain that even he had his limits. Most people could only endure being called by the wrong name or compared to someone else for so long. At this precise moment, the turbolift doors whooshed open and Kirk stepped out onto Deck Seven. A short time later, he entered the Transporter Room -- just as a tall, slender and handsome woman, identical to her father with the exception of nose and mouth, stepped off the platform, carrying a large shoulder bag and small suitcase. He caught her eye as she turned in his direction.

"Captain Kirk?" Her voice was a female version of Bones', Southern accent and all -- even after so many years off-planet.

"Yes. Joanna McCoy?" He held out a hand to shake hers.

"Guilty as charged," the new arrival quipped, a mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes so like her father's.

"Welcome aboard the Enterprise. It's good to finally meet you, though I wish this meeting could have taken place under happier circumstances."

"Life isn't always kind, Captain. All we can do is deal with whatever it happens to throw at us as best we can."

Kirk marveled at her wisdom, most unusual for one of her youth. "Are you sure that your family problems aren't coloring your view of life? You sound a tad cynical."

Joanna shrugged. "Perhaps I am, but it's hard not to be when one has lived the kind of life I have. But that's not important at the moment. Right now I want the latest news you have on my father," she told him as they departed the Transporter Room and headed for a turbolift which would take them to Deck Four and her temporary quarters -- then Deck 5 and the Captain's.

* * *

Joanna found herself on the verge of tears by the time they reached the Captain's quarters ... a mixture of happiness that her father had found a new wife who loved him, and sorrow that he would soon die. She hoped she would meet her stepmother and get to know her, but in the meantime, her father was foremost on her mind. After they got settled at the small table in Kirk's living area with drinks of Saurian brandy (she was Bones' daughter on that score too), he checked with Spock on the Bridge.

"Captain to Bridge."

"Spock here."

"What is Yonada's present course?"

"Fifty-one mark one. At our present speed, we should be within range within two hours."

"Thank you, Spock. Continue to track, and let me know when we arrive."

"Yes, sir. Bridge out."

TWELVE

It was 1100 hours when they reached the asteroid ship. All were on edge, but Kirk, Spock, and Joanna McCoy most of all -- Kirk and Joanna because of his friend and her father, and Spock mostly because Kirk was, though he would have denied it. Kirk was afraid to call and afraid not to. What would Natira say? Had Bones already... died, or was there still time?

He had done the best he could to find Joanna and bring her as requested. She was now standing next to him as he sat in his chair facing the viewscreen, stiff and still as a statue, her face drained of color. He had to force himself to reach for her hand; she clamped onto his tightly, as though it meant her life.

"Take it easy, Joanna," he said as soothingly as possible. "We're nearly there." The asteroid ship loomed large before them. "We just have to let him -- them -- know we're here. Uhura, open hailing frequencies. LHM-120, subspace frequency three."

Uhura complied. As she turned, Kirk could have sworn he saw tears on her cheeks. McCoy would leave a greater gap than he knew. "Open, sir. Go ahead."

"Bones? Natira? Come in, please." A long silence followed, then Kirk repeated himself -- with the same result. "Bones! Natira! Come in!"

"He's dead." Joanna's grip tightened further. "He's dead, and I never got the chance to say goodbye!"

"Don't talk like that," Kirk scolded. "He's not dead!" Not yet, I hope, he finished in his mind, speaking more to convince himself than her, because he was sure that that was what the ominous silence signified. Just then, a voice came over the intercom -- husky with tears but recognizable. "Natira? This is Kirk. We have Joanna. Would you permit us to beam over?"

"Oh, Captain! Yes, this is Natira. I am so pleased you found her. My husband will be very happy. He is quite ill and cannot get out of bed at all, but he is still conscious. Yes, by all means, beam over. He has been asking for you all."

"We'll be right there. Kirk out." The Captain motioned to Spock with his free hand, still holding Joanna's with the other. "Let's go. No time to lose." The Vulcan followed silently, the three entering the turbolift for the Transporter Room.

* * *

Five minutes later they were met by a tearful and silent Natira. She simply jerked her head, indicating that they should follow her. A short time afterward, they entered the master bedroom where an emaciated McCoy seemed lost in the large bed, too weak to even lift his head or speak above a whisper. Joanna cautiously approached her father's bedside.

"Daddy? It's me, Joanna. I'm here."

Her voice seemed to rouse McCoy, if only slightly. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled weakly as his daughter reached the bed and carefully sat down next to him.

"Jo... baby... you're here..."

She reached for his fragile hand and raised it to her cheek after kissing it, tears falling on it as she held it.

"Yes, Daddy, I'm here -- and I won't leave you."

He then seemed to be trying to sit up. Joanna was perceptive enough to realize that her father wanted to hold her one last time, so she lifted his nearly weightless body into her arms. She was surprised to feel his tears on her shoulder as he weakly returned the embrace. Her father had never cried, at least not that she remembered... and certainly not in her presence. Being an old-fashioned father, he had taught her that a man didn't cry, yet that was what he was doing. Kirk and Natira reached for each other, weeping unashamedly. Spock stood apart, not knowing what to do until Kirk's tear-filled voice summoned him to his side.

"Spock."

The Vulcan hesitated a moment, then moved to join the other two, putting a cautious arm around each of them as they stood in a group embrace, sharing grief for not only a beloved friend, but husband and father.

"I love you, Daddy -- and I'm sorry." Joanna's tearful voice filtered over to them.

"You... have... nothing to be... sorry about," the dying man insisted. "It's my fault. I should have... done better... by you. But I never... stopped loving you, baby. Never..." His voice trailed off; McCoy's medical instinct told him that death was not far away. Joanna seemed to know it too, calling to the three standing nearby. Kirk was first, replacing Joanna at McCoy's side.

"Bones? It's me."

"Jim..." the whisper came. "Take care of Jo... yourself... Spock, too. I loved... you both... like brothers." McCoy's eyes were open, but Kirk was sure his dying friend didn't really see him.

"As we did... and do... you." Tears once again filled Kirk's eyes. "We always will."

"Is... Spock here?" Kirk motioned the Vulcan over to the bed, about to get up when the Doctor's hand weakly gripped his. "No... Spock... other side..." The Vulcan moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, gently taking McCoy's fragile hand between both of his.

"Doctor..." Spock felt unbidden tears sting his eyes and a painful lump form in his throat as he tightened his grip on McCoy's hand.

"Please, Spock... don't talk." McCoy's head weakly turned on the pillow; his eyes closed and he smiled softly. Moments later his lips moved, but no words came out.

Kirk noted this. "Bones, you want something? Don't try to talk anymore; simply blink if you do." McCoy did so. "Blink twice if you want Natira; three times if you want Joanna."

The Captain watched his dying friend's face through a haze of tears. Once, twice, McCoy blinked. "Natira," Kirk called -- then he looked back to see McCoy blink three more times. "Joanna."

The Doctor's wife and daughter joined his friends at his bedside. Natira knelt by the bed, resting her head on her husband's chest. In his final moments, after Kirk had released his right hand, McCoy managed to lift it and touch her hair. She clutched him and sobbed.

"Natira, I... love you..." She didn't seem to hear him, but the others did. Joanna seated herself at the head of the bed on the left side, near Spock, reaching to stroke her father's hair. McCoy opened his eyes to gaze upon his only child one last time before looking around at all his loved ones -- then said, voice barely audible to his daughter's ears: "Jo... baby... be happy..."

"I'll try, Daddy," she promised. "Daddy?... Daddy!" No response. Joanna burst into