Star Trek – The Babel Conference

Chapter One – Journey to Babel

It was late, almost midnight, when Chief Medical Officer Leonard. H McCoy finally felt in control of the situation. He also felt the exhaustion wash over him as he sat down behind his desk, his shoulders sagging and his posture sunken as he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I swear they'll be the death of me," he mumbled under his breath as he carefully straightened and began to work out the kinks in his back.

The doctor grimaced as he stretched sore neck muscles and heard a slight pop. It had been one of those days he knew would come but dreaded nevertheless. One of those days where he would get a call about a medical emergency involving the captain.

Bones shook his head and couldn't help but smirk slightly. James T Kirk had the most annoying knack of getting into trouble – as if it was deliberately looking for him. And this time, as if to add insult to injury and making his life even more difficult, Spock had flatly refused to leave the command he'd just involuntarily taken over, cited regulations and disappeared through the door as he had told the Vulcan that it was time for the operation of his father's heart condition and that his help was required. Bones had been furious back then and fired of a string of impolite words at his back and then some at the door that closed behind the stubborn first officer.

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair before absentmindedly picking up a computer storage disk to record his thoughts and with them give a report to Starfleet Medical and Command about the events of the day. Ironically it had been Jim who'd saved his day and succeeding in making his own day worse as he stubbornly and stiffly got out of bed to attend the bridge and order his green- blooded calculator to visit sickbay and aid the doctor in the operation of his Vulcan father.

For a while back there Bones had doubted he would actually succeed in saving the important Vulcan ambassador – one who, according to Starfleet Command, was essential when arriving to Babel. That was partly why he'd even considered allowing his friend and Captain to break out of sickbay, that and the promise Jim had failed to keep – about turning command over to his Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Scott.

McCoy took a deep calming breath as he felt his anger rising at the stubborn act the captain had pulled off, endangering his life in the process. He cursed the mission in the first place – who in their right mind placed all the delegates on one ship and sent it to an important conference? Enterprise was a sitting duck, the perfect target; blow up the flagship of the Federation and there would be chaos until no end.

While the Enterprise was a large ship of Constitution class, even designated as a class one heavy cruiser, she wasn't invincible. The actions taken against both the ship and her captain recently proved it. Kirk had once again lived up to his reputation as a strategic genius, daring but still aware of the risks, and quickness while executing commands.

McCoy sighed as he put one elbow on the desk before him and let his head come to rest in the palm of his hand. He couldn't wait till the Enterprise arrived at Babel so they could drop off the quarrelling parties, constantly verbally assaulting each other, and head on with their mission. He was so sick of Tellarites, Andorians, the little golden boys as he called them, as he found their real name so freaking hard to pronounce, and all the rest. The death of the Tellarite Ambassador alone had given him a lot of extra work in terms of post mortem and let's not forget all the paperwork surrounding that.

Wanting to shift the focus of his gloomy thoughts the doctor reached forward with his hand to open a channel to the bridge. "Sickbay to bridge," he said steadily.

"Scott here doctor," the Scotsman answered almost immediately. "What cannae do for ye?"

"You could start by telling how far it is to Babel," he replied sourly.

A person who didn't know the CMO might have taken offence by his gruff and laconic tone but Scotty found himself amused. "What's the matter, Doctor McCoy? Tired of the ambassadors and delegates already?"

There was a slight delay in answering.

"Don't drag it out," McCoy said.

"One day at present speed," the engineer answered seriously. "I know we're not meant to arrive until a day and a half and then some but given the circumstances I've disregarded cruise speed of Warp Two and cranked up the effect on the engines so that she'll do Warp Four in a long run without problem. I don't care if it doesn't give the ambassadors enough time for small talk before the conference and I don't give a damn – pardon the language – what they'll do on Babel before the conference is set."

"Wonderful news, Scotty," McCoy said as he brightened.

"Speaking of news, Doctor. How's the Captain and Mr. Spock?"

"Well, pointed ears are being just as unreasonable as usual when it comes to medical matters," Bones said and, even though, the words may sound harsh his voice was tinted with relief and fondness. "He claims his healing sleep will restore him back to full health without my interference. I released him half an hour ago with strict orders to go to his quarters. I'm not surprised though if he's already feeling well enough to return to bridge duty and relieve you of command."

"Unless, he's cleared, I'll leave no command to him," Scotty returned. "I can also cite the regulations when necessary."

There was a slight pause then Scotty's voice came back.

"Can I call ye back in a second, doctor?" he asked.

McCoy frowned as the line went dead. His communication device on the desk began to chirp and he curiously made his way over to answer.

The Scotsman's voice came back loud and clear. "I had to relocate in order to get some privacy," he explained. "How's Spock's father by the way?"

"Sarek is resting, contrary to his son he's actually being a modest patient. I expect him to be well enough to attend the conference although with strict orders to rest between the discussions and not to be overtaxing his system so close after a major heart surgery."

"That's good to know," Scotty returned.

"As for our stubborn captain," McCoy drawled as he cast a quick glance in the direction of said superior officer's bed. "He managed to aggravate his injuries rather severely. Despite all the technology I have at my disposal such a wound is scary. I've drained the lung and micro sutured it but breathing is going to hurt for a while and I don't want him running around and undo my hard work. Lungs are a bit tricky. They are brittle yet elastic, if not sealed properly the air would easily leak and the lung would not inflate as it should. Now, I've managed to stop the new bleeding in the area caused by walking, talking and, whatever he did on the bridge. I don't want a repeat, therefore I've sneaked in a mild sedative, for which I'll probably pay later."

"Then I think it's safe to say that we've taken all the precautions we can," Scott surmised. "I'm done up here in an hour or so. Why don't you and I have a glass of brandy? I think it's well deserved."

Bones chuckled. "Good thinking, Scotty. I'll swing by your quarters."

The good doctor continued to chuckle as he ended the connection to the bridge and shook his head slightly. He would have just enough time to complete his report to Starfleet Command before the Scotsman went off his shift.

OOOOOO

When James T. Kirk finally awoke it was to dimmed lights and an empty sickbay, at least it was empty in the department in which he was currently residing. He felt fuzzy and his heavy eyelids was uncooperative at first but then he managed to overcome the lethargic feeling and remain awake. He had no doubt that his CMO and friend had sneaked something into his last hypo, he could feel the effects lingering, and it wasn't the first time. Dozed up on painkillers he felt well enough to try a sitting position but quickly reclined and gasped as his chest tightened. He choked on a breath as the fine sutures inside of him was stretched to their limits and his healing lung protested the action. He forced himself to take shallow breaths as he closed his eyes. He didn't remember that it took that much effort the last time.

"Captain Kirk," the younger African-American doctor called out as he rushed into the room with Nurse Chapel in tow.

Kirk gritted his teeth at the sound of Doctor M'Benga's voice. The biobed having alerted the man to his bedside and was now giving away his predicament. He had never liked tattletales and the bed was no exception. No matter how many times he insisted on being just fine the monitors betrayed him. Despite that fact all he could think of was his standard reply.

"I'm fine doctor," he said.

Had it been Bones he would have had none of it and told him to stuff it. M'Benga was different, he was cautious and based his decisions on facts just like his CMO but he was calmer and chose his words when he spoke.

"Let me be the judge of that, Captain," he said carefully, his expression serious. "I'm sure Doctor McCoy has explained how severe your injury was. I'm not being overly cautious when I ask that you remain still. You'll have to give the sutures a chance to stabilize the lung before you can even consider moving around. It will be at least another twenty-four hours before it can be considered safe. I suggest, captain, that you take my word for it. If you decide to prove my point by trying to leave here before that amount of time has passed I fear you'll fall flat on your face as the sutures will rupture and the lung deflate."

Kirk sighed in exasperation and grimaced as the large intake of breath sent hot pain down his side as if to give further strength to M'Benga's statement.

Kirk slowly nodded and licked his dry lips. "I seem to have little choice in the matter, doctor," he said. "I do, however, demand a report of the ship's status, furthermore I want to know the ETA to Babel and my first officer's condition."

The young doctor nodded reluctantly knowing his CMO would not be happy about it but, then again, if it kept the captain out of trouble what harm would it do to be updated and kept in the loop?

OOOOOO

Spock felt a bit wobbly as he slowly maneuvered himself into a sitting position on his bed. The healing trance had refreshed him but the strain on his system had been severe as it had been forced to produce that much blood in such a short time. As McCoy had cautioned, it was an experimental technique that could turn dangerous, even deadly and therefore should be used only as a last resort. He could easily see the logic in that.

Spock had repressed his human feelings since he was a child, as a part of his Vulcan training, but there were times when he let his human side surface. He knew it was illogical to try and come up with a way of handling the situation at hand in a much more structured way. Even his emotional mother had told him that it would do no good to second guess decisions already made and/or to contemplate what would have happened if he'd performed differently. Although this time he found himself doing just that and he had no explanation for it.

He came to the logical conclusion that humans had influenced him more than he'd care to admit. Take his captain and friend as an example; Kirk was easy to read at times and downright impossible other times – humans had always been unpredictable.

However, this time, he should have called on the captain's bluff. He'd seen the lines of fatigue and pain in the captain's face, the slightly glazed look in his eyes, even the smile seemed plastered and not genuine as he made to stand next to his chair. Right then and there he should have protested and refrained from leaving the bridge but then the stubborn CMO had butted in and told him that the captain had been certified medically fit for command. With the doctor on his side the captain had won the argument that never arose. He'd kept his eyes trained on the captain until the doors to the lift closed. Everything had appeared normal.

It wasn't until later when the operation had been finished with success and the captain turned up in sickbay that he really realized his mistake. The captain looked flushed and not well at all as he leaned on the end of his biobed.

In a strange way the captain's actions were logical since the theater he'd been playing had saved the life of the Vulcan ambassador – his father. Then again, it wasn't acceptable to balance on the fine line and risking further injury while doing so. Kirk was a starship captain and quite invaluable. Also, Spock had come to appreciate his company and his command style. He found it hard to even consider that being lost to him and briefly wondered when he'd come to rely on and place so much trust in a human.

Spock found himself sighing as he slowly rose from his bed and got up to stand. It was still unwise to appear on the bridge since he was not yet able to function satisfactory as a commander. Of course he would in no way let it slip to the doctor that his healing trance hadn't fully restored his health. The good doctor would get too much satisfaction from such a statement.

It was illogical to visit his recuperating father in a private room close to the main sickbay. Simply because it served no purpose in waking the man while he had nothing important to discuss, also his mother needed time to calm down and forgive. Even though he accepted her for whom she was she'd always had a hard time accepting the Vulcan way of life. She was a passionate woman, full of life, full of human emotions. He didn't know if she would ever truly understand why he couldn't hand over command of the Enterprise without reason to do so. The needs of the many clearly outweighed the needs of the few – in this case, the needs of the one.

Before he knew why he carefully walked out in the hallway and made his way through the empty passageway till he walked into the turbolift. His fingers closed around the control stick and he heard himself saying; "Deck Five."

Within a minute he strode into the dimmed sickbay, the chronometer on the wall reading 05:30 ship's time. His eyes settled on the sole occupant of the room being cooped up in the third biobed to the left. He rose a questionable eyebrow as the man slowly turned his head in his direction, the hazel eyes surprisingly alert.

"Spock," Kirk stated with a cautious smile.

"Captain," he replied solemnly, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked up to the bed. "I did not expect to find you awake at this hour."

"So you came to watch me sleep?" Kirk questioned, the undertone amused as his lips quirked upwards.

"Not exactly," he returned politely as he arched a curious eyebrow. "I came here because I did not understand – why Jim?"

Kirk made a long face. "That's pretty straight forward Spock, assuming that you're asking me why I turned up on the bridge and let McCoy haul you off to sickbay."

Spock nodded, waiting for his friend to continue.

"I couldn't lay around in sickbay waiting for your father to die because of your decision to stay on the bridge of my ship," he answered with determination.

"With all due respect, captain. Regulations prevented me from helping Doctor McCoy. It seemed illogical to help one man while in doing so I would have neglected my duty to serve and protect over 100 important guests onboard, not to mention the ship itself and our crew. Also, I wasn't damaged. You on the other hand –"

The captain held up a hand to stop his explanation.

"There are other ways to look at it, Spock. Ambassador Sarek is important to Starfleet, he's seen as one of the most important and influential ambassadors within the Federation and an asset when it comes to our agreements between Vulcan and Earth. Now, regulations would not have applied the way you interpreted them." Kirk said smoothly. "His needs would have outweighed mine."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "So you thought it was better to, should I say, gamble with your own life?" the Vulcan asked in an even tone.

They held each other's gaze for a moment and Kirk narrowed his eyes suspiciously. It was something about the way Spock presented his question that told Kirk of his disapproval.

"Your ability to interpret things and to act rapidly backed up on tactical information has made you important to Starfleet and I dare say; more so than other captains of the fleet. Therefore I must caution you, it is illogical for you to walk among the ambassadors and their aides without proper guard detail. The actions taken yesterday only proves my point."

Kirk smiled. "So, that's what you really wanted to talk about," he mused softly. "If Bones was here right know he'd say you cared, Spock."

"I'm disturbed by the fact that you so recklessly put yourself in harm's way," he answered, choosing his words carefully.

"Well, as of yesterday, I didn't deliberately walk into a knife," Jim said in defense.

"You're twisting my words," Spock said seriously.

Kirk couldn't help but to let out a low chuckle, finding the situation amusing. "You know this is the conversation I use to have with Bones – the only difference is that he is usually furious at me."

"I believe, Jim, that no matter how illogical Doctor McCoy is at times I'd say that is quite a logical course of action."

"I blame what I hear on being drunk," A southern drawl filled the room and seconds later the CMO walked into the room. "We care about you, Jim," Bones continued, his focus directed on his captain.

"Vulcans do not-"

"Don't give me that crap, Spock. You care what happens to Jim, don't you try and deny it," the doctor returned fiercely, his blue eyes boring into the Vulcan.

Spock, unfazed by the doctor's rather predictable outburst in the early morning hour simply shifted in the chair next to the captain's biobed and spoke calmly; "The captain is a valuable member of-"

"For heaven's sake Spock," McCoy argued somewhat exasperated and angrily, causing their common friend to laugh only to end it in a grimace at the pain and discomfort it brought him.

"Jim," Bones said as he refocused his attention on the man in bed, the Vulcan temporarily forgotten. "Are you all right?"

Kirk held up a hand as the doctor started fuzzing over him, taking out his whirring scanner. "I'm fine, Bones," he tried to assure him.

However, his friend was having none of it. "Not exactly what my instrument says and I do trust that explicitly when it comes to you," McCoy returned, his voice slightly elevated. "Now, what are you conferring about that is so freaking important that it can't wait till proper morning anyway? You're both supposed to be resting and recuperating."

"I merely wished to see how the captain was faring, doctor. Now that I have, I shall return to my quarters," Spock explained.

Bones harrumphed as he turned slightly to run the medical scanner over the Vulcan instead. "See that you do Spock, or I'll haul you back here in the tip of your pointed ears," the good doctor threatened. His soft voice however brought the sting out of his words.

"Such an action is highly illogical doctor, not to mention-"

"Get out you green-blooded elf before I change my mind and keep you here," McCoy returned with a lazy wave of his hand.

With a simple raise of one impeccable eyebrow the Vulcan first officer gracefully strode out of the room, leaving McCoy and his deadly serious expression behind. The expression didn't last long and Bones broke into a large grin for a moment but hid it well from his remaining friend – at least he thought he did. When he turned to face Jim Kirk he saw the man mirroring his grin. The doctor instantly became serious. "Stop grinning like a fool," he chided.

Kirk quickly put on a mask of complete innocence.

"And to continue your conversation," Bones said seriously. "One of these days I won't be able to fix you Jim, and that scares the hell out of me, that's why I'm furious with you."

The captain nodded solemnly. On the rarest of occasions he didn't deflect or tried to lighten up the mood, he simply told the truth. "I'm sorry, Bones," he said wearily.

"I'm – " the good doctor began but as the words was registering his anger ebbed out only to be replaced by a confused stare. "Like I said before, I blame what I'm hearing on the delicate whiskey served by our fine chief engineer."

"Seems like you're never satisfied, Bones," Kirk teased lightly.

The doctor smiled in return. "You need to rest, Jim –" He chuckled ruefully and then turned back into his grumpy mode. "Damn, I need to rest. This whole charade of playing nice to a bunch of stroppy idiots is making me miserable."

OOOOOO

To be continued

AN: Thank you, Venea Taur, for taking time to beta this for me. It's an invaluable help. Now, reviews make my day and if you're interested in how the story is progressing and so on please visit my profile ;)