Legacy part 2
Sep. 24th, 2009 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stardate64783Title: Legacy part 2
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rated: PG-13
Notes:
Summary: Leonard H. McCoy calls himself a ol' country doctor. But a discovery hidden deep within Starfleet's archives unravels much more to the McCoy line than anyone could have imagined.
"Could this possibly be the predecessor of the modern day EV Suit?" the kid asked. Leonard frowned and poked at his scrambled eggs.
They spent the rest of the evening watching a few more logs. He let Chekov crash on the small couch in his quarters and the kid had run off in the morning, getting breakfast for them both. They were sitting in front of the console again with Eleanor's profile in view.
After the initial logs, they learned that Eleanor and Lance were obviously and ridiculously in love and quite a dangerous pair when put together. The last log had Eleanor announcing adding an extremely temperamental cloaking device on the suit. The programming had taken the longest to program as they learned from the many logs of Eleanor cursing programming languages up and down.
"Doubt it, kid. E.V. suits were already in production by their era." Leonard replied. "Now cloaking...isn't that dangerous?"
Chekov's eyes widened at the thought. "Extremely dangerous. I did not think the Federation had that sort of technology." He reached over to click open the schematics to the OS.
The suit itself seemed to be a labor of love. It was a sleek, charcoal suit with a barely there delta shield embellishment up the leg and side. At the collar, as was explained 4 logs ago, was the small outline of a delta shield in gold thread. The holsters held the phasers during the tests. Lance had managed to shrunk the communicator technology to the shape of a stamp and hidden it in the collar. They worked on visuals with the installment of a wireless visual goggle.
"Start the next one." Leonard dug into his grits.
The next video showed a heavily pregnant Eleanor and exhausted lance. "This will be our final log for Project O.S. The radiation from the prototype cloaking device has left Eleanor sick." The brunette glared at her husband. "However, after mandatory bedrest, we do have the good news that the captain is with child." Leonard watched as Chekov stared at Lance McCoy. It was the same reaction every time. Everyone did say Leonard looked just like Lance growing up so he didn't see why the kid was so damn fascinated. Lance placed a hand on Eleanor's swollen belly. "We learned today it's a boy so we're thinking of naming him Walter. We've been trying for kids for so long that...hell, we just about gave up. So we requested maternity and paternity leave for the time being."
And like that, the video cut. "Who is Walter?" asked Chekov.
"My dad's oldest brother." Leonard replied. "Is that really it? I mean...all the logs?" His eyes scanned until they found another set of logs. "Wow, this is dated a few years after dad was born."
The video opened to Eleanor and Lance's somber expressions. "Starfleet as decided to shelve Project O.S. They deemed it too violent and against what the Untied Federation of Planets is about." Eleanor reported stoically. "So this is captain Eleanor McCoy with First Officer Commander Lance McCoy out."
"That's it? They gave up on their dream?" Chekov's eyebrows knitted. "But why? Just because Starfleet said so?"
"Hold on, there's one last video." Leonard replied. He stared at the stardate mark. "This was...this was a month after Grammy died." he whispered.
The kid was looking at him carefully. "When did she die?"
"I...I just got into med school. I drive to their place to tell them and..."
He excitedly threw the screen door open. "Grammy! Gramps!"
"I saw him."
Sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, staring at a pad. "Dad? What're you doing here? Where's Grammy and Gramps?"
"My dad was just sitting there like any other morning. He told me that--"
"Son, Grammy died last night." Neither of them paid heed to the dropped acceptance message on the floor.
"Grammy died." Leonard finished softly.
Chekov didn't move from his seat. "We do not need to watch the next video if it will be painful for you." he offered.
He shook his head. "Saw the rest of the videos. Might as well see the last thing I'd have of both of them." He reached out to activate the last video.
A heavily aged Lance McCoy appeared. The man was skinny with age and a lean diet, with a trademark scowl instead of a smile. It was easy that the light in his blue eyes had disappeared. "Stardate 302942.4. Commander Lance McCoy reporting. Captain Eleanor McCoy passed away a month ago after suffering from radiation poisoning from her younger years of experimenting with Project O.S. Though we officially abandoned the project in record, Captain McCoy and myself have returned periodically to make necessary improvements as newer technology surfaced over the last 50 years. The prototype personal cloaking device has been removed and any lasting radiation has been thoroughly removed. It was this device that caused Captain McCoy's downfall." Lance allowed himself to look depressed for a moment.
The two men watching joined in the moment of silence.
"My last and final contribution to this project was the integration of environmental nanobots. This has replaced the subroutines in repairing the fabric so it would self-repair more quickly. This has also replaced the environmental controls; adjusting the suit itself so that the wearer is not too hot or cold. A third feature, which replaces the problematic cloaking device, is that these environmental nanobots function like a chameleon's scales. On command, the suit will blend into its background or surroundings." He paused. "This will be my last log and will be sealed away in the deepest bowels of Starfleet's archives. Ellie and I have programmed the entire project to operate and reveal itself only to a person that matches our mDNA. It was...her dying wish that either our grandchildren or some distant descendant will take up the project again." Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. "Though I don't see that happening as all of our sons and grandchildren have no particular interest in Starfleet." He sighed heavily. "So if you are of our kin in the future and do decide to pick up on this project again, Eleanor and I wish you good luck and godspeed."
Silence ruled the room.
Leonard finally rubbed his eyes. "So um...why were you here, ensign?" he asked.
Chekov broke out of his trance. "Er...it...it is not important." He was blushing. "I have a shift in about an hour. So...I will go. But..." He gave a longing glance at Eleanor's innocent Starfleet profile. "If you wish to discuss that project...I could meet you after my shift?"
"I'm going to need some time to digest all this. Thank god I have the next two shifts in medical." Chekov nodded and stood up to leave. "And Chekov?"
"Yes, doctor?"
"Thanks...for sticking around." The kid smiled and left.
Leonard showered and pulled on a fresh set of clothes before making his way to medical bay. He went through the motions of seeing hungover or homesick patients or just plain idiots who touched Sulu's plants or stuck things where they shouldn't belong.
But his mind kept drifting back to the new information he had just received in the last 24 hours. Grammy and Gramps were not just Grammy and Gramps anymore. Captain. First Officer. They met in Starfleet. He frowned as he sat down in his office. Was this why Pike came after him? It seemed a little too damn convenient for the Admiral, then captain, to have found him drunk off his ass at some seedy bar.
"Hey Bones?" He looked up to see Jim stick his head into his office.
"What do you want, Jim?" He was tired, damnit. Just wanted to hide under the goddamn bed and wait for Armageddon.
Jim slid the door close and locked it. "You ok, Bones?" he asked softly. "I mean...Spock and I...we didn't mean to like just spring it on you."
"How'd you even find her, Jim?"
The captain perched himself on the ledge of his console and gave a shrug. "Originally, I was looking up notable Vulcans in Starfleet because I wanted to put together a surprise for Spock's birthday." Leonard rolled his eyes. "No such luck. I didn't get more than 2 or 3. Then I decided to look deeper in the archives. And I got bored. So I ran some random searches on all of us." Leonard felt his own frown deepen. "Totally accidental, Bones. I didn't think I'd find anything!"
He finally sighed. "It's all right, Jim. Just wish you'd talk to me about it first."
"So...your grandma's pretty hot." There was no mistaking the Jim Kirk smirk. Lord knows, he's seen enough of it back at the Academy.
"Don't you have a starship to captain instead of oggling my Grammy?" he snapped. "I'm sure I have a hypospray around here somewhere." Starfleet captain or not, Jim still fled from the mention of hyposprays.
He came out to have Chapel hand him a stack of datapadds. New patients. Everything from Keenser having the goddamn sniffles to Sulu's fencing injury to a couple of burnt engineers. Leonard shook his head. No time to think about Grammy and her weird ass life. He was a doctor, damnit!
Ok.
Sutre this.
Set that.
Osteogenerator.
Dermagenerator.
"Damnit, Riley! Don't mess with Sulu's goddamn plants!"
"No more wires for you, Lt. Respi."
"Rand, it's a sprained ankle. Quit wasting my time."
"Allergic reaction."
"Alcohol poisoning."
By the time the parade of people finally weeded out, it was 2300 and Leonard just wanted to grab the strongest cup of coffee Starfleet food synthesizers could attempt. Grammy and Gramps' voices were still buzzing in the back of his head. "Dying wish." he muttered under his breath as he pulled up a chair to an empty biobed.. "No way in hell am I gonna take it up. I'm a doctor." He propped his feet up on the biobed and began at the paperwork of the day.
He was halfway through Repsi's report when he heard a commotion at the doors. Leonard looked to see Ensign Pavel Chekov carry two trays on top of each other and trying to convince Chapel to get by. "Really! I am only here to give Doctor McCoy dinner!"
Chapel was tough. No one ever got under Chapel's skin. Well...no one but Pavel Chekov. Leonard watched in amusement as her tough exterior melted and she ruffled the kid's hair. "Go on, I think he's stewing on Biobed 6." Leonard shook his head and returned to his paperwork.
"Hello, doctor!" Chekov greeted. "I have brought you dinner." He lowered his voice. "And am here to discuss that thing if you wish." He set a tray in front of Leonard and pulled off the cover. "I figure sandwiches were easiest to eat in case you get a new patient while we talked."
He blinked. "Er...thank you, Chekov. But I don't particularly want to talk about Grammy's secret life."
Chekov perched himself on the biobed and folded his legs before picking up a sandwich of is own. "But doctor, your babushka wanted you to continue her work. Your papa, he is not in Starfleet?"
Leonard frowned. "No, dad was not in Starfleet. None of my uncles or cousins were too interested in joining either." He took a tentative bite. The sandwich itself was dry, synthesized crap as expected. "And I have no interest. I'm a doctor, not an engineer or programmer. I can't make any improvements on it."
"Then perhaps I can work on it?" Leonard already shook his head, coming up with a million reasons why the kid shouldn't work on it. "Why not?"
"It's dangerous. It's been shelved by Starfleet. It'll get you court marshalled. And it's my goddamn Grammy's project! Need I go on?"
"All you need is a programmer and an engineer to work on it. I can program and Mr. Scott can engineer improvements. Maybe you could present it to Starfleet and they will want it again!"
"When the hell did you become a programmer?"
Chekov waved it off. "I did for fun at the Academy when I was bored. Or you could call Commander Spock! Or the captain! He beat Commander Spock's Kobayashi Maru!"
He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. This was definitely a subject he did not want to hear about for about...oh...a couple of eons. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chekov..."
"Doctor."
"This was Grammy's project."
"And she wanted her children to continue it." Before Leonard could continue, Chekov started again, "If you do not do it, then your son or daughter might. Or grandson or granddaughter. Would you risk putting them in danger of possibly 100 year old technology?" Blue eyes met his in a steady gaze. Despite the cherubic face, Chekov's eyes were always bright and Leonard could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain.
"Kirk to McCoy."
Leonard winced. "McCoy here." he called out.
"I'm gonna need you at the debriefing. Starfleet's issued orders. And if Chekov's still there, tell him to go too. Officer Conference Room A at 0700. Kirk out."
"Well, you heard the man. Now get the hell out of here."
Chekov looked like he wanted to say something but settled on twisted his lips into a hard frown. He picked up his tray and left medical bay without another word.
Leonard took another bite of his sandwich and returned to filing reports. Damn kid was going to be the death of him.
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rated: PG-13
Notes:
Summary: Leonard H. McCoy calls himself a ol' country doctor. But a discovery hidden deep within Starfleet's archives unravels much more to the McCoy line than anyone could have imagined.
"Could this possibly be the predecessor of the modern day EV Suit?" the kid asked. Leonard frowned and poked at his scrambled eggs.
They spent the rest of the evening watching a few more logs. He let Chekov crash on the small couch in his quarters and the kid had run off in the morning, getting breakfast for them both. They were sitting in front of the console again with Eleanor's profile in view.
After the initial logs, they learned that Eleanor and Lance were obviously and ridiculously in love and quite a dangerous pair when put together. The last log had Eleanor announcing adding an extremely temperamental cloaking device on the suit. The programming had taken the longest to program as they learned from the many logs of Eleanor cursing programming languages up and down.
"Doubt it, kid. E.V. suits were already in production by their era." Leonard replied. "Now cloaking...isn't that dangerous?"
Chekov's eyes widened at the thought. "Extremely dangerous. I did not think the Federation had that sort of technology." He reached over to click open the schematics to the OS.
The suit itself seemed to be a labor of love. It was a sleek, charcoal suit with a barely there delta shield embellishment up the leg and side. At the collar, as was explained 4 logs ago, was the small outline of a delta shield in gold thread. The holsters held the phasers during the tests. Lance had managed to shrunk the communicator technology to the shape of a stamp and hidden it in the collar. They worked on visuals with the installment of a wireless visual goggle.
"Start the next one." Leonard dug into his grits.
The next video showed a heavily pregnant Eleanor and exhausted lance. "This will be our final log for Project O.S. The radiation from the prototype cloaking device has left Eleanor sick." The brunette glared at her husband. "However, after mandatory bedrest, we do have the good news that the captain is with child." Leonard watched as Chekov stared at Lance McCoy. It was the same reaction every time. Everyone did say Leonard looked just like Lance growing up so he didn't see why the kid was so damn fascinated. Lance placed a hand on Eleanor's swollen belly. "We learned today it's a boy so we're thinking of naming him Walter. We've been trying for kids for so long that...hell, we just about gave up. So we requested maternity and paternity leave for the time being."
And like that, the video cut. "Who is Walter?" asked Chekov.
"My dad's oldest brother." Leonard replied. "Is that really it? I mean...all the logs?" His eyes scanned until they found another set of logs. "Wow, this is dated a few years after dad was born."
The video opened to Eleanor and Lance's somber expressions. "Starfleet as decided to shelve Project O.S. They deemed it too violent and against what the Untied Federation of Planets is about." Eleanor reported stoically. "So this is captain Eleanor McCoy with First Officer Commander Lance McCoy out."
"That's it? They gave up on their dream?" Chekov's eyebrows knitted. "But why? Just because Starfleet said so?"
"Hold on, there's one last video." Leonard replied. He stared at the stardate mark. "This was...this was a month after Grammy died." he whispered.
The kid was looking at him carefully. "When did she die?"
"I...I just got into med school. I drive to their place to tell them and..."
He excitedly threw the screen door open. "Grammy! Gramps!"
"I saw him."
Sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, staring at a pad. "Dad? What're you doing here? Where's Grammy and Gramps?"
"My dad was just sitting there like any other morning. He told me that--"
"Son, Grammy died last night." Neither of them paid heed to the dropped acceptance message on the floor.
"Grammy died." Leonard finished softly.
Chekov didn't move from his seat. "We do not need to watch the next video if it will be painful for you." he offered.
He shook his head. "Saw the rest of the videos. Might as well see the last thing I'd have of both of them." He reached out to activate the last video.
A heavily aged Lance McCoy appeared. The man was skinny with age and a lean diet, with a trademark scowl instead of a smile. It was easy that the light in his blue eyes had disappeared. "Stardate 302942.4. Commander Lance McCoy reporting. Captain Eleanor McCoy passed away a month ago after suffering from radiation poisoning from her younger years of experimenting with Project O.S. Though we officially abandoned the project in record, Captain McCoy and myself have returned periodically to make necessary improvements as newer technology surfaced over the last 50 years. The prototype personal cloaking device has been removed and any lasting radiation has been thoroughly removed. It was this device that caused Captain McCoy's downfall." Lance allowed himself to look depressed for a moment.
The two men watching joined in the moment of silence.
"My last and final contribution to this project was the integration of environmental nanobots. This has replaced the subroutines in repairing the fabric so it would self-repair more quickly. This has also replaced the environmental controls; adjusting the suit itself so that the wearer is not too hot or cold. A third feature, which replaces the problematic cloaking device, is that these environmental nanobots function like a chameleon's scales. On command, the suit will blend into its background or surroundings." He paused. "This will be my last log and will be sealed away in the deepest bowels of Starfleet's archives. Ellie and I have programmed the entire project to operate and reveal itself only to a person that matches our mDNA. It was...her dying wish that either our grandchildren or some distant descendant will take up the project again." Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. "Though I don't see that happening as all of our sons and grandchildren have no particular interest in Starfleet." He sighed heavily. "So if you are of our kin in the future and do decide to pick up on this project again, Eleanor and I wish you good luck and godspeed."
Silence ruled the room.
Leonard finally rubbed his eyes. "So um...why were you here, ensign?" he asked.
Chekov broke out of his trance. "Er...it...it is not important." He was blushing. "I have a shift in about an hour. So...I will go. But..." He gave a longing glance at Eleanor's innocent Starfleet profile. "If you wish to discuss that project...I could meet you after my shift?"
"I'm going to need some time to digest all this. Thank god I have the next two shifts in medical." Chekov nodded and stood up to leave. "And Chekov?"
"Yes, doctor?"
"Thanks...for sticking around." The kid smiled and left.
Leonard showered and pulled on a fresh set of clothes before making his way to medical bay. He went through the motions of seeing hungover or homesick patients or just plain idiots who touched Sulu's plants or stuck things where they shouldn't belong.
But his mind kept drifting back to the new information he had just received in the last 24 hours. Grammy and Gramps were not just Grammy and Gramps anymore. Captain. First Officer. They met in Starfleet. He frowned as he sat down in his office. Was this why Pike came after him? It seemed a little too damn convenient for the Admiral, then captain, to have found him drunk off his ass at some seedy bar.
"Hey Bones?" He looked up to see Jim stick his head into his office.
"What do you want, Jim?" He was tired, damnit. Just wanted to hide under the goddamn bed and wait for Armageddon.
Jim slid the door close and locked it. "You ok, Bones?" he asked softly. "I mean...Spock and I...we didn't mean to like just spring it on you."
"How'd you even find her, Jim?"
The captain perched himself on the ledge of his console and gave a shrug. "Originally, I was looking up notable Vulcans in Starfleet because I wanted to put together a surprise for Spock's birthday." Leonard rolled his eyes. "No such luck. I didn't get more than 2 or 3. Then I decided to look deeper in the archives. And I got bored. So I ran some random searches on all of us." Leonard felt his own frown deepen. "Totally accidental, Bones. I didn't think I'd find anything!"
He finally sighed. "It's all right, Jim. Just wish you'd talk to me about it first."
"So...your grandma's pretty hot." There was no mistaking the Jim Kirk smirk. Lord knows, he's seen enough of it back at the Academy.
"Don't you have a starship to captain instead of oggling my Grammy?" he snapped. "I'm sure I have a hypospray around here somewhere." Starfleet captain or not, Jim still fled from the mention of hyposprays.
He came out to have Chapel hand him a stack of datapadds. New patients. Everything from Keenser having the goddamn sniffles to Sulu's fencing injury to a couple of burnt engineers. Leonard shook his head. No time to think about Grammy and her weird ass life. He was a doctor, damnit!
Ok.
Sutre this.
Set that.
Osteogenerator.
Dermagenerator.
"Damnit, Riley! Don't mess with Sulu's goddamn plants!"
"No more wires for you, Lt. Respi."
"Rand, it's a sprained ankle. Quit wasting my time."
"Allergic reaction."
"Alcohol poisoning."
By the time the parade of people finally weeded out, it was 2300 and Leonard just wanted to grab the strongest cup of coffee Starfleet food synthesizers could attempt. Grammy and Gramps' voices were still buzzing in the back of his head. "Dying wish." he muttered under his breath as he pulled up a chair to an empty biobed.. "No way in hell am I gonna take it up. I'm a doctor." He propped his feet up on the biobed and began at the paperwork of the day.
He was halfway through Repsi's report when he heard a commotion at the doors. Leonard looked to see Ensign Pavel Chekov carry two trays on top of each other and trying to convince Chapel to get by. "Really! I am only here to give Doctor McCoy dinner!"
Chapel was tough. No one ever got under Chapel's skin. Well...no one but Pavel Chekov. Leonard watched in amusement as her tough exterior melted and she ruffled the kid's hair. "Go on, I think he's stewing on Biobed 6." Leonard shook his head and returned to his paperwork.
"Hello, doctor!" Chekov greeted. "I have brought you dinner." He lowered his voice. "And am here to discuss that thing if you wish." He set a tray in front of Leonard and pulled off the cover. "I figure sandwiches were easiest to eat in case you get a new patient while we talked."
He blinked. "Er...thank you, Chekov. But I don't particularly want to talk about Grammy's secret life."
Chekov perched himself on the biobed and folded his legs before picking up a sandwich of is own. "But doctor, your babushka wanted you to continue her work. Your papa, he is not in Starfleet?"
Leonard frowned. "No, dad was not in Starfleet. None of my uncles or cousins were too interested in joining either." He took a tentative bite. The sandwich itself was dry, synthesized crap as expected. "And I have no interest. I'm a doctor, not an engineer or programmer. I can't make any improvements on it."
"Then perhaps I can work on it?" Leonard already shook his head, coming up with a million reasons why the kid shouldn't work on it. "Why not?"
"It's dangerous. It's been shelved by Starfleet. It'll get you court marshalled. And it's my goddamn Grammy's project! Need I go on?"
"All you need is a programmer and an engineer to work on it. I can program and Mr. Scott can engineer improvements. Maybe you could present it to Starfleet and they will want it again!"
"When the hell did you become a programmer?"
Chekov waved it off. "I did for fun at the Academy when I was bored. Or you could call Commander Spock! Or the captain! He beat Commander Spock's Kobayashi Maru!"
He could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. This was definitely a subject he did not want to hear about for about...oh...a couple of eons. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Chekov..."
"Doctor."
"This was Grammy's project."
"And she wanted her children to continue it." Before Leonard could continue, Chekov started again, "If you do not do it, then your son or daughter might. Or grandson or granddaughter. Would you risk putting them in danger of possibly 100 year old technology?" Blue eyes met his in a steady gaze. Despite the cherubic face, Chekov's eyes were always bright and Leonard could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain.
"Kirk to McCoy."
Leonard winced. "McCoy here." he called out.
"I'm gonna need you at the debriefing. Starfleet's issued orders. And if Chekov's still there, tell him to go too. Officer Conference Room A at 0700. Kirk out."
"Well, you heard the man. Now get the hell out of here."
Chekov looked like he wanted to say something but settled on twisted his lips into a hard frown. He picked up his tray and left medical bay without another word.
Leonard took another bite of his sandwich and returned to filing reports. Damn kid was going to be the death of him.
