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***May the dreams of your past be the reality of your future (Jimi Hendrix).***
The heat is oppressive, far worse than anything McCoy had experienced in his native Georgia. Vulcan is a desert planet, its inhabitants acclimated to these extreme conditions. A bead of sweat snakes down McCoy’s spine. Despite the lightweight medical uniform he wears and the cool air circulating in the room, the young doctor can’t stop perspiring. He’s still unsure why he left his comfortable life on Earth for such an uncertain future. It’s been four months since he accepted the position to train as a Xenosurgeon. He had graduated with honors in his medical studies. Did he crave a change of scenery? Or was he simply fleeing a tempestuous love affair?
He acknowledges that the Vulcan doctors are skilled teachers, but they are rigid, devoid of the ability to bend rules or improvise. On this planet, there are rules and logic governing everything. His Vulcan colleagues, with their bowl-cut hair and perpetually raised eyebrows, scrutinize the young Georgian constantly. McCoy has had to restrain his fiery temper more times than he cares to count.
This week, he is on duty at the dispensary assigned to him. So far, his workload has been light: a Vulcan child got bitten by a native insect after placing his hand where it shouldn’t have been. Even Vulcan children can be mischievous, it seems. His mentor, however, dismissed this as illogical. According to him, Vulcan children are well-trained in what they should and should not do. Mischief, after all, is a human concept that does not align with the philosophy of their Vulcan hosts. McCoy merely smirked, choosing not to engage in a futile debate. His Vulcan master is absent today, leaving him alone to manage the dispensary. Is this a sign of trust from the old doctor? Leonard isn’t entirely convinced. He decides not to dwell on it. Perhaps it’s better to attempt Vulcan-style meditation, as his mentor has taught him, and allow his mind to shake off the heat and the lingering insecurity of these first few hours on his own as a resident physician.
He lifts his head from his desk and the PADD in his hand when he hears a knock at the door. The persistent knocking repeats, snapping him out of his reverie. He responds in a firm voice:
"Come in!"
The door slides open, revealing two boys, neither of whom appear to be more than eighteen, at least by his initial assessment. His gaze first falls on the blond, stocky human who meets his eyes with strikingly beautiful and penetrating blue eyes. Beside him, a Vulcan of indeterminate age, though clearly young, stands calm and expressionless.
"Good afternoon, sir," the blond boy says with surprising confidence. "My name is James T. Kirk."
McCoy studies the teenager in astonishment. Kirk is covered in small cuts and bruises, most notably around his left eye, which is starting to swell into an unpleasant shade of purple. His shirt is also torn in several places.
"What the hell happened to you?" the doctor exclaims, jumping up from his chair and grabbing the tricorder resting on a delicate wooden bookcase intricately carved in the Vulcan style.
The boy remains silent, his expression sullen, fists clenched, while McCoy examines him. The Vulcan boy, meanwhile, has stepped away from his friend, positioning himself near the wall with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Nothing serious," Leonard concludes. "But it looks like you’ve been trampled by a herd of wild elephants in heat!"
The Vulcan boy breaks his silence, speaking for the first time.
"There are no elephants on Vulcan; they are mammals native to Earth."
McCoy turns toward him, a bemused smile playing on his lips.
"I know, son, don’t worry," he says, rolling his eyes. As if he needed a reminder of how difficult it is for the planet's inhabitants to grasp Earth metaphors.
The doctor instructs Jim to strip down to his underwear and activates the dermal regenerator, carefully applying it to the boy's smooth skin. Jim winces as the bruises and scratches begin to heal, but he looks up at the doctor with the eyes of a grateful puppy.
"I’m going to have to file a report about this. It’s my duty to inform the local authorities."
"Oh no, sir, please don’t!" Jim pleads, his voice tinged with desperation.
McCoy raises an eyebrow and shakes his head in response.
"It’s standard procedure, Jim Kirk. Besides, I need to know what happened to you!"
Jim stubbornly shakes his head, avoiding the doctor's gaze.
"It was an accident," he insists.
"Yeah, an accident," McCoy replies with a hint of sarcasm. "Like the ‘accident’ my Uncle Robert had when his horse kicked him in the rear!"
Deciding to change his approach, McCoy softens his tone.
"At the very least, tell me who you are and what you’re doing on this godforsaken planet. No sane person would come here willingly. Are you running from something that happened on Earth?"
The Vulcan boy, standing nearby, raises an eyebrow in what seems like the faintest sign of annoyance. McCoy catches the subtle gesture.
"Oh, come on, don’t get worked up. Deep down... deep down... I have a soft spot for your home planet. And if you’d rather I stop calling you ‘boy,’ then tell me your name."
"My name is Spock. Son of Sarek and Amanda," the black-haired boy replies in a calm, neutral tone.
Leonard has heard of Sarek. The diplomat is well-known and respected for his work as a mediator.
With a newfound curiosity, McCoy shifts his focus back to Jim.
"You, pretty face, let your tongue loose and tell me who you are and what has happened to you!" McCoy's index finger hovers just inches from Kirk's nose.
Leonard can’t deny that the young human exudes strength and determination, even while sitting on the gurney. Jim swings his legs back and forth, a casual defiance in the movement, while McCoy drills into him with a stern gaze. Jim meets his stare with an insolent smirk.
"I'm no young criminal, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not in trouble, and I’m not looking for it either!"
"Judging by the bumps and bruises you had earlier, I don’t think you got those from a friendly game of chess," McCoy retorts.
Jim straightens his hair, smoothing down an unruly lock, and flashes a wide grin.
"I... I’m good at chess," he quips.
McCoy sighs, then grunts in frustration.
"I’ve got work to do, Jim. I don’t have all day to wait for your answers!"
Spock, who had been standing off to the side, abandons his relaxed posture and steps closer to the doctor.
"James T. Kirk is part of a school exchange program between Earth and Vulcan. He’ll be spending a few months learning my language and the culture of my people. He’s staying at my parents’ house, and we share my room," Spock explains calmly.
McCoy purses his lips as he sets the dermal regenerator aside.
"You can get dressed, Jim," he instructs the young man.
As Jim pulls on his pants and laces up his shoes, McCoy scratches at his barely-there beard and takes a seat at his desk. He’s heard about this cultural and educational exchange program. Another bead of sweat slips down from his forehead to his cheek, which he wipes away with his right hand. Though he’s only five or six years older than Jim, he has enough life experience and knowledge of human behavior to notice the way these two boys look at each other. He assumes that, at the very least, they must be close friends.
"Spock, you don’t have to tell him everything," Kirk says as he finishes dressing.
McCoy blinks, his patience wearing thin.
"You’re stubborn, kid!"
"My name is James Kirk, remember?" Jim retorts, his tone petulant. "Son of George Kirk, the hero of the Narada. I’m not a child or a baby."
"And mine is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy. Born in Georgia, son of David, grandson of my grandfather… What’s the matter?" the doctor replies, positioning himself directly in front of the blond boy, crossing his arms, his eyebrows knitting together in an unexpectedly brusque and defiant expression.
Jim freezes for a moment, caught off guard by the doctor’s intimidating stance, but then bursts into a hearty laugh. "I like you, Dr. McCoy."
"That’s usually the case," the doctor quips.
Kirk shrugs and relaxes slightly. "Spock and I are friends…"
"I had assumed as much…"
Jim blinks, amused once again by the doctor’s blunt manner.
"Some guys tried to provoke Spock into showing emotion," Jim continues.
"Some guys?" Leonard asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Some classmates of mine," Spock interjects, deciding to join the conversation.
Leonard scratches his face thoughtfully, his gaze shifting between Jim and Spock.
Spock straightens his posture, his expression turning somber. "Doctor, my nature is unique on this planet. I am half-human, half-Vulcan. Some of my peers do not accept my mixed heritage."
"Those Vulcan ‘colleagues’ were mocking Spock and insulting him severely," Jim explains calmly. "He didn’t want to… respond to them or defend himself against the harassment."
"…I see," McCoy replies, nodding slowly. "And you were the idiot who stood up for Spock against guys twice your size and strength… You got into a fight, and you took the worst of it."
Kirk looks down, his cheeks flushing. "He’s my dear friend, doctor. I can’t stand injustice or bullying. Wouldn’t you have done the same in my place?"
"It may not have been your brightest idea, Jim."
"I’m not exactly proud of my behavior, Dr. McCoy. I’m just a young man with hot blood. I reacted this way because I care a lot about Spock."
Leonard allows a small smile and ruffles Kirk’s hair with his hand. "I think I understand. I’m not judging you."
Spock clears his throat softly before speaking. "Jim has been illogical, letting his emotions and impulsiveness take control… however…"
Leonard softens his gaze, sensing the deeper emotion in Spock’s words. "However… you appreciate his actions, despite the violence… Am I right?"
Spock nods slightly. "I know it’s not logical, Doctor McCoy. Force and aggression are inappropriate in any situation. I am a pacifist by nature."
Kirk turns his gaze to the doctor, his expression earnest and hopeful. "I’m asking you not to report this. It would harm Spock, and I’d have trouble renewing my scholarship as a student here… Please!..."
McCoy exhales a long sigh. "I’d only consider that if Spock agrees to file a complaint against those classmates who are harassing him. This kind of behavior needs to stop immediately. The solution isn’t violence, and it isn’t silence either."
"I can’t do that," Spock replies promptly. "It would only increase the prejudice against me as a Human-Vulcan hybrid. I’d be seen as a whistleblower."
Jim steps closer to Spock, placing an arm around his shoulder. Kirk’s blue eyes soften as he gently pats the Vulcan’s back, a gesture of quiet solidarity.
"I think Dr. McCoy is right. You’re the most exceptional person I’ve ever met—honest, noble, and unyielding. I’m proud to call you my best friend. You should embrace your uniqueness without fear of what others might say or think. Don’t let those bullies dictate who you are."
Spock remains silent, his expression thoughtful. "I’ll meditate on it. I need time to consider." His voice is cautious, revealing his reluctance to give an immediate answer.
McCoy grins widely, his satisfaction evident.
"Fantastic! I have no intention of distancing myself from you two. I’m genuinely interested in hearing what Spock decides. So... don’t you want to know what brought this young field doctor to this planet? My shift ends in two hours. There’s a nearby cafeteria that’s popular with both humans living on this sandy world and Vulcans who enjoy mingling with us. How about we meet there in two hours and share stories? I’ve got a few fascinating tales, and I’d really like to get to know both of you better!"
Spock, always the pragmatist, responds in his usual laconic manner. "Is that truly necessary?"
Jim gives Spock a friendly pat on the back, eliciting a quiet groan from the Vulcan.
"Absolutely, Doctor," Kirk replies, his tone bright and enthusiastic. "But I can’t keep calling you ‘Dr. McCoy’ all the time. It’s too formal, and you’re only a few years older than we are! What do your friends call you?"
Leonard rolls his hazel eyes and purses his lips in mock frustration.
"Well... some of them call me... Bones."
"...Bones! Got it! You know, someday I’m going to be a starship captain, Bones," Jim declares with a grin. "And when that day comes, I’m gonna need a good doctor by my side! Spock can be my first officer. I’ll fill you in on all the details later."
The Vulcan raises an eyebrow in his characteristic manner. "He talks about it constantly. My father is eagerly awaiting his return home—Jim gives him quite the headache."
Kirk playfully taps Spock on the back, laughing with the carefree energy of the boy he still is.
McCoy responds to the pair with a warm smile, winking at Jim. "The dreams of youth shouldn’t be dismissed. They’re the seeds of great futures."
Jim grabs Spock’s arm, and the two of them stumble out of the office, their exit accompanied by Jim’s animated chatter.
McCoy remains seated, a goofy grin plastered across his face. He has no doubt that Spock will make the right choice, and he doesn’t feel the need to keep an eye on the Vulcan. There’s something about those two that resonates with him, as if they possess a hidden magnetism that draws him in, perfectly complementing his own personality. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Or perhaps something deeper.