Star Trek: The Original Series: Seasons of Light and Darkness by Michael A. Martin Page B

immaculate white shape hovered silently in the darkness beyond. The doctor read the pride and love in Jim Kirk’s face. “She deserves the best officers. And the best doctor.”
    McCoy studied the mighty starship as he considered Kirk’s offer. He contemplated living out among the stars once again. Unlike the stints he’d already served aboard the Republic , the Yegorov , and the Constitution —all three of which had started him, at best, somewhere near the middle of the sickbay totem pole—he’d hit the ground running as the head of a starship’s medical department.
    â€œIt’s tempting, Jim. It really is.”
    â€œSo why do I hear a ‘but’ sneaking up on me?”
    â€œBecause I’m thinking about retiring from Starfleet.”
    â€œRetiring? Come on, Bones, the surgeon general is at least twice your age.”
    McCoy shook his head. “It’s not about age, and you know it. It’s about being hamstrung by the damned bureaucracy. It happened during the Capellan mission ten years ago. And it’s happened to me at every posting where Starfleet deigned to put me in charge of anything.”
    Kirk’s brow crumpled into a concerned frown. “Bones, what the devil are you talking about?”
    McCoy raised his hands and gesticulated, taking care not to knock over either of the drinks. “I’m talking about hierarchy over Hippocrates, Jim. I will never do that ever again.”
    Then, over a second and third round of drinks, McCoy told Kirk the story of the months he spent on Capella IV.
    Kirk listened attentively. After McCoy finished, the young captain sat in silence, processing what his friend had just confessed about matters of life and death, divided loyalties, and oaths in collision.
    â€œBones,” Kirk said, “you patched me up after my dustup with those Epsiloni pirates. I don’t think anybody else could have done quite what you did. I need you aboard the Enterprise .”
    McCoy nodded. But he needed to hear something more.
    â€œI know the Capella mission put you in an impossible situation,” Kirk continued. “You were forced to choose between that boy and your oath as a Starfleet officer.”
    â€œYes,” McCoy said.
    Kirk’s sharp hazel eyes locked on his. “Doctor McCoy, you have my word as a Starfleet officer that I will never do that.”
    A broad smile crossed McCoy’s face before he could do anything about it.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “I’m in.”

Epilogue
    STARFLEET HEADQUARTERS, SAN FRANCISCO
    Stardate 8130.6 (March 23, 2285)
    â€œDespite your overly harsh self-evaluation,” Spock said, “you must admit that your actions on Capella IV—both as part of the Yegorov expedition and also some thirteen years later, when you took part in the Enterprise ’s Capella mission—laid the groundwork for the mutually beneficial relationship the Federation now enjoys with the Capellan people.”
    â€œMaybe,” McCoy said. He felt much more comfortable trading barbs with the Vulcan than he did receiving either praise or solace from him. “Still, when that Capellan boy died, a part of me did as well. And it’s all because I let myself forget that I’m a healer first and a Starfleet officer second. I swore from that day on to question any order that just doesn’t smell right.”
    â€œInteresting, Doctor,” Spock said, nodding sagely. “I find it difficult, if not impossible, to imagine you behaving any other way.”
    A collegial silence stretched between the two old friends as McCoy wondered whether to take Spock’s comment as an insult or a compliment.
    Ultimately, it didn’t really matter. In fact, the story with which he’d regaled Spock over the past few hours had only been a prologue to the real purpose of his visit. A quick downward glance at the empty Romulan ale bottle in his hand—the remains of one of