NEW TOS Not Those Three Days 1 [G] 1/1 (S/Mc, K)

Title: Not Those Three Days

Author: Artemis (ArtemisOK@aol.com)

Series: TOS

Codes: S/Mc, K

Rating: G

Parts: 1/1

Summary:  A lesson in time travel

Disclaimer: CBS-Paramount owns Star Trek. No infringement intended, no money being made.

Feedback: Will write for feedback

Beta:  Thank you to Janet for the beta. All mistakes are my own.

Archiving: Spiced Peaches XXI, The Spock/McCoyote’s Den and Artemys Aquiver

NOT THOSE THREE DAYS

“Dammit, Jim! It's not fair!”  Doctor McCoy slammed his fist down on the table upsetting the cup of coffee that his friend and commander had placed there moments ago.  The hot liquid splashed onto his arm.  He scowled but would not be derailed from his tirade.  “He's dead, Jim.  Lt. Tomolen is still dead.  Ask me how I know?  Well c'mon ask me!”  He was in Jim's face.  Leonard's eyes were wild and staring.  The bags under his eyes were dark and pronounced.  His breath reeked of whiskey.

Captain Kirk did his best not to flinch away from his friend's intensity. Resignedly he asked; “Okay Bones, how do you know he's still dead?' 

Still inches from Jim's face, Bones' hissed; “Because I've been watching him.  I was down in the  morgue when we pulled away from that thrice damned planet Psi 2000.  I saw the chronometer down there start to run backwards.  I called up to the bridge to find out what the hell was going on.  Lt. Uhura, bless her heart, told me that we had been thrown back in time restarting the engined the way Spock and Scotty did.  I thanked her and then I thanked God.  I figured we had a reset and everything would go back to the way it was three days ago.”  He paused to sip at the coffee Yeoman Rand had slipped onto the table.  It had a little hair of the dog and went down fine.  “I figured that Tomolen would disappear or rise up like Lazarus, but NO; he's still dead!” 

McCoy slid his arm around Kirks' shoulder.  “We need to go back, back to Psi 2000 and stop this madness from happening.”

Kirk gently removed McCoy's arm.  “I wish we could, but we can't.  We can't risk causing a temporal  rip.  All we can do is sit tight and repair our ship and ourselves as best we can.”   He reached over and took a gulp of McCoy's laced coffee.  It warmed the cockles of his heart, but it didn't help his conscience.  “Bones, I want to go back, you know I do, but we can't!  We – I have a greater responsibility.”

“What's more important than this ship and her crew?” McCoy demanded.

“The universe.”  Kirk replied.  He held up his hand to forestall the doctor's comeback.  “Yeah, I know it sound's a bit grandiose, but we can't go rushing back to prevent our landing party from coming in contact with the virus.”

“Sure you can, all you have to do is order Lt. Tomolen not beam down, put someone else in his place.”

“And how will I managed to convince my past self  to send someone more careful or conscientious?”  Jim closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  All this time travel shit was making him dizzy.  “Face it, Bones, it's Heinlein's Paradox.  We didn't stop ourselves, so we can't stop ourselves.” He got up from the table.  He patted McCoy's shoulder.  “I'm sorry.”   

Commander Spock was entering the Officer's Mess as Captain Kirk was leaving.  Kirk asked him to talk to Doctor McCoy.  Maybe you can get him to listen to reason. He suggested.

Spock waked over to the table. He stood quietly with his hands behind his back waiting for Doctor McCoy to acknowledged him. 

McCoy did with a growl. “You're waiting your time, Spock. (If you'll pardon my pun.)  I'm way beyond logic.  There's nothing you can say to me that will make me fell better, lessin' y'all can turn back the hands of time.” 

“The moving finger writes and then having writ moves on...” The Vulcan quoted.  McCoy looked as though he wanted to throw the mug at him.  “Doctor, will you please come with me to my office?”

This caught the doctor's attention.  “You have an office?!”

Spock nodded.  “Yes, as head of the Science department, I have an office.  Just as, you, as head of your department have your own office.”  Spock extended his hand.  “Now please, Doctor McCoy, let us adjourn to said office.”

Reluctantly, the doctor stood.  He wobbled a bit and caught the proffered hand.  “Maybe I could use some fresh air.” he mumbled. 

“Doctor, the same air recycler system operates throughout the ship.   The air in the corridor is neither fresher nor staler than the air here in the Officer's Mess.”

Leonard peered at him.  “Are you sure?  It seems kinda stuffy in here or maybe that's just you.”

“I rescind my former statement.  The air in here does seem to be polluted, or maybe that's just you.”  He turned and headed for the door.  McCoy followed muttering under his breath.

Two levels down and aft of their last position they stopped at a small gray room in the back of the biology lab.  It was barely big enough to contain two chairs and a desk with a monitor and keyboard.  Several data disk were stacked neatly on the corner.  A bent nine-iron was mounted on the wall.

McCoy almost laughed when he was the golf club, a reminder of happier times together with his former lover.   Just to be contrary, he moved the guest chair to right of center and put his feet up on the corner of Spock's desk, knocking the disks awry.

The commander sighed inwardly and spared a glance at the nine-iron.  It hung there as a reminder to keep his cool and that Terrans and their ephemera were fragile. He sat in his seat and looked steadily at the only human that could make him aggravate him enough to twist a titanium shaft into a circle.

McCoy spoke first.  “Well, Spock, I love what you've done with the place.  You must give me the name of your decorator.” 

“Tis a small thing but mine own.”  Spock acknowledged.  “Doctor would you care for another coffee?”

He reached for the replicator slot behind his desk.

Leonard opened his mouth to say no dammit, but changed his mind.  “Yea, you remember how I like it?”

“Sweet, hot and extra strong.”  Only his Vulcan physiological control kept him from blushing.  He tapped out his guest's order and requested a peppermint tea for himself.  After all it had been a trying past few days. 

When the doctor received his mug, he opened his smock and pulled out a small flask, he poured a good measure of rum into the steaming beverage.  He caught Spock's eye.  “Want some?”  he offered returning his host courtesy.  He'd be damned if Vulcan hospitality would out do Southern hospitality. He wondered what the hell was going on; people were dead and here Spock  was starting a coffee clatch., fer cryin' out loud!

“Alcohol has no effect on me.” Science Officer Spock turned his monitor so that he and his guest could see the screen.  Several sets of equations filled the screen.  “As you can see, Doctor, I have been trying to get us back to where we started from three days ago.”

McCoy stared at the monitor.  “It's all Greek to me.  I'll have to take your word for it.”  He waved his hand.  “Does any of this help us?”

“No...” 

“No, then why are you wasting my time with it?!” 

“I was endeavoring to explain.  When I have not been assisting Mr. Scott with his recalibration of the warp engines, I have been here trying to undo the damage the Psi 2000 virus affected crewmen inflected on the Enterprise.”  He drew a haggard breath.  “The last three days were difficult for me as well.”

“Even for you?  I thought you nothing could effect that logical Vulcan demeanor of yours?”

“Even for me.” The Vulcan thought back to his outburst in the conference room and the smashed monitor.  “I analyzed the data from the solar sling shot to ascertain exactly how we traveled back in time and whether we could reach Psi 2000 in time to circumvent that tragic chair of events.” 

McCoy perked up.  For the first time in hours he felt a glimmer of hope. “Now you're talking.”

Spock cocked his head.  “I have been talking since we enter my office.” He took a sip of tea. Leonard would not like what was to follow.  Indeed, he did not like it.  “At last I discovered a solution that would get word back to our past selves and NOT destroy the Enterprise in the here and now.  I lifted my hands from the keyboard to get a data disk and to my dismay; the solution disappeared before my eyes.” He drained the last of the peppermint tea. 

“I inserted the disk and re-input the figures.  The disk ejected on its own.  As a last resort, I went out into the laboratory and found some packing material and a marking pen.  I started to write out the solution when I heard a footfall behind me.  I turned to find a Vulanoid female of indeterminate age dressed in an off white tunic and trousers.  There was some kind of ranking pips on the collar and a broach on her chest. She had curling, dark brown hair and blue eyes.   She held what appeared to be an advanced form of tricorder in one hand and a small phaser in the other. 

She spoke; “I'm sorry, Sir.  I cannot allow you to complete your calculations.  Your ship cannot permitted to go back and change history.  I must ask you to surrender the packing material.”

“Who are  you?”  I demanded to know.  “And under whose authority do you presume to stop me from rescuing my shipmates?”

“I am Lt. T'Pam of the Time Fleet.  We are temporal police dedicated to maintaining this  particular thread of the space-time continuum.  

“ And why should I stop what I'm doing and give you my formula?” I asked

“This will explain.”  She touched a few buttons on her tricorder and a three-dimensional model of an equation appeared between us. She stood quietly while I absorbed the data.

Fascinated I reached in and touched the floating figures. At last, I comprehended.  “Ah,” I said, “The Chaos Theory.”

The young lady bowed her head. “Yes, Sir. I am sorry, Sir.”  She held out her hand and gave her the paper.  She raised her chin with a jerk and spoke to the air.  “ Dora III, this is T'Pam.  I am ready to beam up....”

“Wait!”  I asked. “Will I see you again?' 

As she dematerialized, she nodded and smiled.

Leonard scoffed.  “Time Fleet? Busybody do-gooders who run around in sparkly pajamas!”

“So you have heard of them?”  Spock asked wryly.

“Yeah, I read some of Captain Archer's personal logs.” McCoy shook his head. “Crazy stuff.”

The science officer added.  “I read Sub-Commder T'Pol's log entries.  She would agree with you.”

“Humph, a Vulcan agreeing with me.  I need a drink.” He finished his coffee.  “What is this Chaos theory and why did it stop you?”

“Are you familiar with quantum physics, Doctor?”  McCoy shook his head.  “Then allow me to demonstrate.”  Spock took Leonard's hand in his.  With his free hand, he dipped a finger into the dregs of his tea.  He placed a drop on the back of the human's hand.  They watched as the drop traced a path down his slender hand. 

“So?”  McCoy wanted to know. 

Spock repeated his actions, stopping just before he put the peppermint tea on the doctor's hand.  “Which way will the tea go?”

“The same way the last drop did.”  Spock started the drop at the same place, but while it started out the same, it took a different path and landed two centimeters from the previous drop.  “Patterns are difficult to predict and any random element can cause them to go off course.”  He released the doctor's hand.

McCoy licked his lips.  “You can't step in the same river twice.”

“Just so.”  Spock said tenderly.

“It not fair.”  Len sighed.

“My dear doctor,” Spock said; “A wise man once told me that if life was truly fair, we'd all get exactly what we deserved.”  His delivery was deliberately flat,  but there was a trace of sympathy in his warm brown eyes.

“No thank you.”  the doctor managed a sloppy grin.  “At least I didn't kiss Nurse Chapel.”

FIN