Then Comes Spock, 8/15
Jan. 26th, 2011 10:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teaoliTitle: Then Comes Spock: Advanced Vulcan Physiology
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
teaoli
Characters: McCoy, Spock, Uhura, Ambassador Spock, Sarek, OFC, Enterprise ensemble
Summary: The Enterprise has completed its first mission & its senior crew have settled into their roles. Unusual circumstances send Spock and Uhura to the Vulcan colony. Sequel to Don’t Lose Your Compass, which is also available somewhere on lj and might even eventually make it to my journal.
( Read Hybridogenesis )
( Read Clarity )
( Read Business as Usual )
( Read First Comes Love )
( Read Down to the Bones )
( Read Tea and Sympathetic Natures )
( Read Basic Biology )
“So?” Uhura asked. “Are you going to explain this or what? Do you even have an explanation?”
McCoy sighed. He really didn’t think he was up for another intense late-night communication. He also knew he didn’t have much of a choice. The last thing he needed was to be on the bad side of an angry pregnant woman.
“Look, dollface,” he grumbled, “take a seat, will you? This is probably gonna take a while.”
Uhura continued to stand, leaning on both hands and glaring into the view screen.
“I mean it, darlin’,” he warned. “No sittin’, no explainin’!”
Clearly reluctant to follow orders from the man she thought was doing everything in his power to piss her off, Uhura sat.
It’s not me, McCoy reminded himself. It’s the situation. And the hormones. A drink would be a fine thing right now. A fine thing.
Shaking his head, he gathered himself together. This probably would take some time.
“Thank you, gorgeous,” he said sweetly. “Now, I know things look a little crazy right now, but I’ve been thinking and I’ve come up with some theories.”
Uhura started to ask a question and he threw up a hand to hold her off.
“Give me a chance, okay? Like I said, this is kinda complicated.
“As you obviously read, Vulcan physiology differs from ours in more than just organ location, blood composition and body density. Their reproductive system really diverges from what you probably learned from studying human biology, am I right about that?”
At her nod, he went on.
“Well, aside from that curious ‘reproductive gland’ which I still don’t know the purpose of, sex-determination is also rather more involved than our XY/XX model. You with me so far?”
Uhura grimaced.
“Gods, Bones, I know all this already! When are you going to cut to the chase?”
“Uh-uh,” he chastised. “If we’re gonna talk about this, you can’t go off gettin’ upset about everything I say. It’s important that we go over everything, okay darlin’?”
She had the grace to look ashamed of her impatience.
“I’m sorry, Len,” she said. “It’s just… it’s just that I hate feeling like I’m in the dark. You know?”
She looked down into her lap.
McCoy had a feeling the waterworks were about to spout again. He groaned inwardly. He wasn’t going to be having that drink anytime soon.
“Look, darlin’, why don’t I come over there so we can talk about this face to face?” he asked. “Would that be better for you?”
When she looked up again, her eyes were bright with tears and the droplets clung like diamonds to her long, dark eyelashes.
“Would you, Len?” she asked. “Gods, I hate being like this. Like some stupid woman in a bad romantic vid or something.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t worry about it sweetheart,” he said. “You can blame the damned hormones, if you want. That’s what I’m doing right now.”
The last got a laugh out of her, and he felt comfortable enough to end the call and make his way to her quarters.
.
.
“Sug’,” he said, his whisky-rich voice melting over her, “we really gotta stop meeting like this. Might make your Vulcan jealous.”
When McCoy gave her a lazy, seductive wink, Uhura chuckled and stepped aside to let him into her quarters.
“I really am sorry about this, Len,” she said as they walked over to the small sofa in the common area and sat. “I’m not usually this annoying, am I?”
She looked over at him, worry written all over her face.
“No, but ever since you married Mister Spock I figured it was bound to happen eventually,” he deadpanned.
She burst into a fit of giggles that left her gasping for breath.
“I swear, Len,” she said, nearly choking on laughter, “if you make me pee my pants, you’ll be the one cleaning up the mess.”
McCoy offered her another of his devastating smiles, but decided it was time to get down to business.
“All right, sug’,” he said, “let’s get back to it, then. Sex-determination is usually pretty straightforward in therians. XX, XY and all that. And you know about the SRY gene and all that. Now, skipping over those rare cases of XX-males and XY-females — which have mostly been eliminated, anyway — any human born with a Y chromosome and a functioning SRY gene comes out male.
“But things aren’t so simple for Vulcans. For one thing, they don’t have an SRY gene and since all the author of that very clandestine report I let read wrote was that ‘sex-determination among Vulcans is decided by many factors’ we don’t even know if they have an equivalent.
“So, knowing what little we know, it isn’t unreasonable to think that it should have been impossible for Amanda Grayson and Sarek to produce a son. Human embryos just can’t be pheonotypically male without a functioning SRY gene.
“Obviously, the impossible was possible because they had Spock. And before you ask, he was conceived the old-fashioned way. No genetic engineering involved. I know because I asked Ambassador Sarek. Most uncomfortable conversation I ever had, by the way, and one I hope I never have to repeat. But, I did it for you, doll.”
Uhura, who had been listening intently and looking increasingly disturbed throughout his explanation, laughed.
“So, what does this mean?” she asked. She tried, with quite a bit of success, even, to wipe the smile from her face.
McCoy sighed. The next part wasn’t going to go over very well.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. “But I suspect — well, one of my theories, anyway — is that the human body is incredibly adaptable. If it wasn’t we’d still be cavemen and wouldn’t be having this conversation. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I think it just must might be possible that Lady Amanda’s body just found a way.”
Uhura thought this over for a moment.
“And, I guess that would mean my body ‘found a way,’ too,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” McCoy said. “Looks like.”
She frowned.
“And now the Vulcans are going to want to know how,” she mused. “Because if two human women were able to make half-Vulcan babies, they probably believe that there might be a way those babies can make full-Vulcan babies one day.”
“Yeah,” McCoy said again.
Uhura took a deep breath and tried to shake off her lingering fears.
“So, how do we figure this out? What’s next?”
“Well, first, we need to figure out if it’s the human body adapting or if it’s the Vulcan,” he told her. “It won’t be easy for them to start experimenting on you, and Lady Amanda isn’t around for them to try it on her.”
She breathed a quick sigh of relief over a lump of grief. Most of those lingering fears had been that they could and would try to figure her out.
“Testing the Vulcan side of things is gonna be a little hard, considering we don’t have a control available on the Enterprise. No full Vulcans to, uh, fiddle with,” he explained. “Luckily, during that very uncomfortable conversation, Ambassador Sarek offered himself up in the name of science.
“Now, seeing that he’s Spock’s daddy, he isn’t exactly ideal. It would be better to use a few unrelated Vulcans so we could rule out any family-specific traits, but we have to work with what we’ve got.
“We’ll go from there, but if we find out the adaptations are more on the Vulcan side than on the human side, then you’re in the clear, at least.”
An older fear bubbled up from Uhura’s stomach.
“And what does that mean for Spock?” she wanted to know.
McCoy frowned.
“I’m still working on that,” he admitted.
Leonard McCoy sat tapping a stylus against his chin the next morning. His attention was fully focused on the Vulcan face on his view screen.
“I understand your concerns,” Ambassador Spock assured him. “In fact, doctor, I concur with your estimation of possible repercussions pending the outcome of the proposed tests. My father may believe Vulcan integrity will prevent the occurrence of anything… untoward. I remain unconvinced.”
Bones grumbled under his breath about pointy-eared bastards who used a sack full of words when a handful would do.
Spock heard him and offered the doctor a rare half-Vulcan smile.
“Indeed, Bones,” he said, “fewer words would have been more than adequate. However, having spent several decades getting chastised for appearing to be either too reticent or too verbose when speaking to your counterpart has failed to enhance my ability to decipher which method to use under what circumstances.”
McCoy was about to let loose with earful of invective when a sudden thought slammed into his aching head: the old Vulcan was teasing him. Just as smart-mouthed as the other one, he thought.
“Hmpf!” he said aloud. “Anyway, it’s all right and good you agreein’ with me an’ all. The question is: what do you think you can do about it? ‘Cause your daddy sure wasn’t much help. ‘I assure you doctor, your concerns are unfounded.’ Unfounded, my ass!”
The old ambassador inclined his head.
“Again, you are correct,” he said.
McCoy waited for him to continue.
For most of the conversation, he admitted to himself, he was just being his usual gruff self. This Spock claimed they were great friends in his timeline, and Bones was willing to reserve judgment on that one. With this Spock, at least. But as several seconds stretched out during which neither spoke, and during which the doctor felt his headache spreading, McCoy started to get pissed for real.
“Well?” he snapped, slamming his hand down on his desk.
That damned eyebrow sprang up.
“Forgive me, Doctor,” Spock said, eyes twinkling. “I did not wish to offend your ears by over-speaking.”
McCoy groaned.
“No, I am the one who’s sorry, Ambassador,” he lied. “Please. Do you happen to have a plan in that pointy-eared head of yours for how we might be able to keep your daddy’s colleagues from stealin’ Spock’s sperm soon as we step off the ship two weeks from now?”
Spock didn’t bat an eyelash, raise an eyebrow or incline his head.
“I must commend you on your use of alliteration, Bones. Under the circumstances, I find it really quite fascinating that you were able to manage it,” he said in that placid voice McCoy had gotten used to hearing from the man’s younger counterpart. “You may rest easy, however. I think you will find, if you have not already, that I endeavor to always have a plan.”
Ten minutes later, McCoy turned away from the now-blank screen, muttering about crazy Vulcans who could crack jokes in the middle of a crisis. But he couldn’t prevent the satisfied smile from creeping up on his face.
The green-blooded devil could be damned crafty when he needed to be, the doctor thought. The young one sure could learn a thing or two from the old one.
________________________________________
Six hours after that, Jim Kirk stumbled into McCoy’s office fell into a chair. He immediately popped up and rounded the doctor’s desk, opened a lower drawer and snagged a bottle of dark liquid.
“Cup?” he grunted.
McCoy opened another drawer, pulled out a sturdy white mug and handed to the captain.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a mild sneer. “Don’t suppose you wanna talk about it?”
Kirk poured a good measure into the mug, and took a good slug before placing the bottle on the desk. He walked back around the desk and resumed his seat.
“Bones, I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next one-thousand, eight hundred and twenty-four hours,” he groaned.
McCoy shot him a devilish grin.
“You been hanging out with the Vulcan again?” If Jim was calculating the hours of the next few months, they were probably all in trouble.
Kirk took another gulp and scooted his chair closer to his friend’s desk. He put the cup down and reached for the bottle again. McCoy swatted his hand away. The captain sighed and sat back.
“No,” he sighed. “I just spent half a shift listening to Uhura’s replacement drone in that impossibly monotone voice of his whenever there was a message to be conveyed. Which didn’t happen very often, but still. It was enough to give everyone a massive headache. Or drive us to drink. I’ve chosen the latter, as you can see. My liver might not live ‘til she gets back.”
McCoy’s crack of laughter filled the small room.
“Damn! If it’s this bad and they’re not even gone yet, I might just have to hide the good stuff.”
Kirk glared at him.
“Do it and you just might find yourself quartered down by the engineering decks,” he growled.
The good doctor just laughed again.
“At least that’ll leave me closer to Mr. Scott’s stash.” He poured another, smaller, drink for his best friend. “Anyway,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you. It probably won’t be as bad as you think.”
Kirk raised questioning eyebrows. When McCoy didn’t elaborate, he brought up his real fear.
“Bones, what if they don’t come back?” he asked after taking a sip. “With all this secret shit that’s been going on with Spock and the Council, how are we supposed to be sure we aren’t going to be stuck with Lieutenant, Junior Grade Saunders warming Uhura’s chair for the foreseeable future?”
McCoy snickered and pulled out a cup for himself.
“See? I knew that was really what had you all hetted up!” he said, slamming his hand down on his desk for the second time that day. “But, like I said, don’t worry. I’ve been talking to the other Spock. And guess what, Jim. He has a plan.”
McCoy wiggled his eyebrows and raised his cup in a silent toast before taking his first sip.
Next chapter...
Author:
teaoliCharacters: McCoy, Spock, Uhura, Ambassador Spock, Sarek, OFC, Enterprise ensemble
Summary: The Enterprise has completed its first mission & its senior crew have settled into their roles. Unusual circumstances send Spock and Uhura to the Vulcan colony. Sequel to Don’t Lose Your Compass, which is also available somewhere on lj and might even eventually make it to my journal.
( Read Hybridogenesis )
( Read Clarity )
( Read Business as Usual )
( Read First Comes Love )
( Read Down to the Bones )
( Read Tea and Sympathetic Natures )
( Read Basic Biology )
“So?” Uhura asked. “Are you going to explain this or what? Do you even have an explanation?”
McCoy sighed. He really didn’t think he was up for another intense late-night communication. He also knew he didn’t have much of a choice. The last thing he needed was to be on the bad side of an angry pregnant woman.
“Look, dollface,” he grumbled, “take a seat, will you? This is probably gonna take a while.”
Uhura continued to stand, leaning on both hands and glaring into the view screen.
“I mean it, darlin’,” he warned. “No sittin’, no explainin’!”
Clearly reluctant to follow orders from the man she thought was doing everything in his power to piss her off, Uhura sat.
It’s not me, McCoy reminded himself. It’s the situation. And the hormones. A drink would be a fine thing right now. A fine thing.
Shaking his head, he gathered himself together. This probably would take some time.
“Thank you, gorgeous,” he said sweetly. “Now, I know things look a little crazy right now, but I’ve been thinking and I’ve come up with some theories.”
Uhura started to ask a question and he threw up a hand to hold her off.
“Give me a chance, okay? Like I said, this is kinda complicated.
“As you obviously read, Vulcan physiology differs from ours in more than just organ location, blood composition and body density. Their reproductive system really diverges from what you probably learned from studying human biology, am I right about that?”
At her nod, he went on.
“Well, aside from that curious ‘reproductive gland’ which I still don’t know the purpose of, sex-determination is also rather more involved than our XY/XX model. You with me so far?”
Uhura grimaced.
“Gods, Bones, I know all this already! When are you going to cut to the chase?”
“Uh-uh,” he chastised. “If we’re gonna talk about this, you can’t go off gettin’ upset about everything I say. It’s important that we go over everything, okay darlin’?”
She had the grace to look ashamed of her impatience.
“I’m sorry, Len,” she said. “It’s just… it’s just that I hate feeling like I’m in the dark. You know?”
She looked down into her lap.
McCoy had a feeling the waterworks were about to spout again. He groaned inwardly. He wasn’t going to be having that drink anytime soon.
“Look, darlin’, why don’t I come over there so we can talk about this face to face?” he asked. “Would that be better for you?”
When she looked up again, her eyes were bright with tears and the droplets clung like diamonds to her long, dark eyelashes.
“Would you, Len?” she asked. “Gods, I hate being like this. Like some stupid woman in a bad romantic vid or something.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t worry about it sweetheart,” he said. “You can blame the damned hormones, if you want. That’s what I’m doing right now.”
The last got a laugh out of her, and he felt comfortable enough to end the call and make his way to her quarters.
.
.
“Sug’,” he said, his whisky-rich voice melting over her, “we really gotta stop meeting like this. Might make your Vulcan jealous.”
When McCoy gave her a lazy, seductive wink, Uhura chuckled and stepped aside to let him into her quarters.
“I really am sorry about this, Len,” she said as they walked over to the small sofa in the common area and sat. “I’m not usually this annoying, am I?”
She looked over at him, worry written all over her face.
“No, but ever since you married Mister Spock I figured it was bound to happen eventually,” he deadpanned.
She burst into a fit of giggles that left her gasping for breath.
“I swear, Len,” she said, nearly choking on laughter, “if you make me pee my pants, you’ll be the one cleaning up the mess.”
McCoy offered her another of his devastating smiles, but decided it was time to get down to business.
“All right, sug’,” he said, “let’s get back to it, then. Sex-determination is usually pretty straightforward in therians. XX, XY and all that. And you know about the SRY gene and all that. Now, skipping over those rare cases of XX-males and XY-females — which have mostly been eliminated, anyway — any human born with a Y chromosome and a functioning SRY gene comes out male.
“But things aren’t so simple for Vulcans. For one thing, they don’t have an SRY gene and since all the author of that very clandestine report I let read wrote was that ‘sex-determination among Vulcans is decided by many factors’ we don’t even know if they have an equivalent.
“So, knowing what little we know, it isn’t unreasonable to think that it should have been impossible for Amanda Grayson and Sarek to produce a son. Human embryos just can’t be pheonotypically male without a functioning SRY gene.
“Obviously, the impossible was possible because they had Spock. And before you ask, he was conceived the old-fashioned way. No genetic engineering involved. I know because I asked Ambassador Sarek. Most uncomfortable conversation I ever had, by the way, and one I hope I never have to repeat. But, I did it for you, doll.”
Uhura, who had been listening intently and looking increasingly disturbed throughout his explanation, laughed.
“So, what does this mean?” she asked. She tried, with quite a bit of success, even, to wipe the smile from her face.
McCoy sighed. The next part wasn’t going to go over very well.
“I don’t know yet,” he said. “But I suspect — well, one of my theories, anyway — is that the human body is incredibly adaptable. If it wasn’t we’d still be cavemen and wouldn’t be having this conversation. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. I think it just must might be possible that Lady Amanda’s body just found a way.”
Uhura thought this over for a moment.
“And, I guess that would mean my body ‘found a way,’ too,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” McCoy said. “Looks like.”
She frowned.
“And now the Vulcans are going to want to know how,” she mused. “Because if two human women were able to make half-Vulcan babies, they probably believe that there might be a way those babies can make full-Vulcan babies one day.”
“Yeah,” McCoy said again.
Uhura took a deep breath and tried to shake off her lingering fears.
“So, how do we figure this out? What’s next?”
“Well, first, we need to figure out if it’s the human body adapting or if it’s the Vulcan,” he told her. “It won’t be easy for them to start experimenting on you, and Lady Amanda isn’t around for them to try it on her.”
She breathed a quick sigh of relief over a lump of grief. Most of those lingering fears had been that they could and would try to figure her out.
“Testing the Vulcan side of things is gonna be a little hard, considering we don’t have a control available on the Enterprise. No full Vulcans to, uh, fiddle with,” he explained. “Luckily, during that very uncomfortable conversation, Ambassador Sarek offered himself up in the name of science.
“Now, seeing that he’s Spock’s daddy, he isn’t exactly ideal. It would be better to use a few unrelated Vulcans so we could rule out any family-specific traits, but we have to work with what we’ve got.
“We’ll go from there, but if we find out the adaptations are more on the Vulcan side than on the human side, then you’re in the clear, at least.”
An older fear bubbled up from Uhura’s stomach.
“And what does that mean for Spock?” she wanted to know.
McCoy frowned.
“I’m still working on that,” he admitted.
Leonard McCoy sat tapping a stylus against his chin the next morning. His attention was fully focused on the Vulcan face on his view screen.
“I understand your concerns,” Ambassador Spock assured him. “In fact, doctor, I concur with your estimation of possible repercussions pending the outcome of the proposed tests. My father may believe Vulcan integrity will prevent the occurrence of anything… untoward. I remain unconvinced.”
Bones grumbled under his breath about pointy-eared bastards who used a sack full of words when a handful would do.
Spock heard him and offered the doctor a rare half-Vulcan smile.
“Indeed, Bones,” he said, “fewer words would have been more than adequate. However, having spent several decades getting chastised for appearing to be either too reticent or too verbose when speaking to your counterpart has failed to enhance my ability to decipher which method to use under what circumstances.”
McCoy was about to let loose with earful of invective when a sudden thought slammed into his aching head: the old Vulcan was teasing him. Just as smart-mouthed as the other one, he thought.
“Hmpf!” he said aloud. “Anyway, it’s all right and good you agreein’ with me an’ all. The question is: what do you think you can do about it? ‘Cause your daddy sure wasn’t much help. ‘I assure you doctor, your concerns are unfounded.’ Unfounded, my ass!”
The old ambassador inclined his head.
“Again, you are correct,” he said.
McCoy waited for him to continue.
For most of the conversation, he admitted to himself, he was just being his usual gruff self. This Spock claimed they were great friends in his timeline, and Bones was willing to reserve judgment on that one. With this Spock, at least. But as several seconds stretched out during which neither spoke, and during which the doctor felt his headache spreading, McCoy started to get pissed for real.
“Well?” he snapped, slamming his hand down on his desk.
That damned eyebrow sprang up.
“Forgive me, Doctor,” Spock said, eyes twinkling. “I did not wish to offend your ears by over-speaking.”
McCoy groaned.
“No, I am the one who’s sorry, Ambassador,” he lied. “Please. Do you happen to have a plan in that pointy-eared head of yours for how we might be able to keep your daddy’s colleagues from stealin’ Spock’s sperm soon as we step off the ship two weeks from now?”
Spock didn’t bat an eyelash, raise an eyebrow or incline his head.
“I must commend you on your use of alliteration, Bones. Under the circumstances, I find it really quite fascinating that you were able to manage it,” he said in that placid voice McCoy had gotten used to hearing from the man’s younger counterpart. “You may rest easy, however. I think you will find, if you have not already, that I endeavor to always have a plan.”
Ten minutes later, McCoy turned away from the now-blank screen, muttering about crazy Vulcans who could crack jokes in the middle of a crisis. But he couldn’t prevent the satisfied smile from creeping up on his face.
The green-blooded devil could be damned crafty when he needed to be, the doctor thought. The young one sure could learn a thing or two from the old one.
________________________________________
Six hours after that, Jim Kirk stumbled into McCoy’s office fell into a chair. He immediately popped up and rounded the doctor’s desk, opened a lower drawer and snagged a bottle of dark liquid.
“Cup?” he grunted.
McCoy opened another drawer, pulled out a sturdy white mug and handed to the captain.
“You’re welcome,” he said with a mild sneer. “Don’t suppose you wanna talk about it?”
Kirk poured a good measure into the mug, and took a good slug before placing the bottle on the desk. He walked back around the desk and resumed his seat.
“Bones, I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next one-thousand, eight hundred and twenty-four hours,” he groaned.
McCoy shot him a devilish grin.
“You been hanging out with the Vulcan again?” If Jim was calculating the hours of the next few months, they were probably all in trouble.
Kirk took another gulp and scooted his chair closer to his friend’s desk. He put the cup down and reached for the bottle again. McCoy swatted his hand away. The captain sighed and sat back.
“No,” he sighed. “I just spent half a shift listening to Uhura’s replacement drone in that impossibly monotone voice of his whenever there was a message to be conveyed. Which didn’t happen very often, but still. It was enough to give everyone a massive headache. Or drive us to drink. I’ve chosen the latter, as you can see. My liver might not live ‘til she gets back.”
McCoy’s crack of laughter filled the small room.
“Damn! If it’s this bad and they’re not even gone yet, I might just have to hide the good stuff.”
Kirk glared at him.
“Do it and you just might find yourself quartered down by the engineering decks,” he growled.
The good doctor just laughed again.
“At least that’ll leave me closer to Mr. Scott’s stash.” He poured another, smaller, drink for his best friend. “Anyway,” he said, “I wouldn’t worry so much if I were you. It probably won’t be as bad as you think.”
Kirk raised questioning eyebrows. When McCoy didn’t elaborate, he brought up his real fear.
“Bones, what if they don’t come back?” he asked after taking a sip. “With all this secret shit that’s been going on with Spock and the Council, how are we supposed to be sure we aren’t going to be stuck with Lieutenant, Junior Grade Saunders warming Uhura’s chair for the foreseeable future?”
McCoy snickered and pulled out a cup for himself.
“See? I knew that was really what had you all hetted up!” he said, slamming his hand down on his desk for the second time that day. “But, like I said, don’t worry. I’ve been talking to the other Spock. And guess what, Jim. He has a plan.”
McCoy wiggled his eyebrows and raised his cup in a silent toast before taking his first sip.
Next chapter...
