Joanna McCoy: SM831-3914 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
joanna_mccoy) wrote2017-12-10 12:49 am
joanna_mccoy) wrote2017-12-10 12:49 am
Excerpt from Crisis on Centaurus by Brad Ferguson
Suddenly Spock knew with a sure and entirely illogical instinct that she was nearby. “Miss McCoy!” he called, startling Weinstein and the four from the Columbus. “Joanna McCoy! Are you here?”
Not too far away a head turned, searching.
“Oh, yes, that’s Joanna,” Weinstein said. “Tireless young woman; she’s been working like a dog. How do you know her?”
Spock had never met Joanna McCoy, but he’d taken the precaution of seeing a picture of her before he’d left the Enterprise. She clearly looked like McCoy’s daughter-- her smile marked her as such without hope of appeal-- but she was a softer McCoy, pretty without glamour. “Thank God she doesn’t look like me,” Spock had heard Bones McCoy say once, but she did.
Now she looked tired. Her smock was streaked with dirt and blood; she badly needed some rest, a shower, and two or three meals. Her nails were broken. She was wearing one earring; the other was missing. Her skirt was ripped. She looked as if she wished she could brush her teeth.
She looks magnificent, thought Spock in a detached way.
Joanna McCoy had been wrapping an elderly woman’s leg wound with sterilized rags. An open medikit lay on the ground. As Spock approached, Joanna finished the job, spoke quietly to the woman, and directed two young men nearby-- the woman’s sons, perhaps-- to pick her up gently and take her to the boathouse for observation. Then she rose, stood straight, and looked for whoever it was that had been calling her.
She spotted the Vulcan right away; her eyes quickly found the ship’s insigne on Spock’s blue shirt, and the similar insignia on the shirts of the four with the Vulcan. “The Enterprise!” she exclaimed. She read the commander’s stripes on Spock’s sleeves and said, “You must be Mr. Spock. My father’s written me about you. I’m Joanna McCoy.”
Joanna was polite; she offered the Salute, which Spock returned. “Live long and prosper, Miss McCoy.” Spock performed the introductions to Chekov and the others.
“Is my father with you?” She looked past Spock for him.
“No. He chose to remain aboard the ship, for now. He had pressing duties there. I also believe he is undergoing emotional distress concerning your fate.”
“Oh, poor daddy,” Joanna fretted. She frowned just like her father, and Spock was again struck by the resemblance. “He always was a worrier. Look, I’ll give you a note to take back with you, if that’s alright.”
“I am prepared to take you up to the Enterprise, if you desire to go,” Spock said. “I believe your father would be glad to see you.”
“I know he would, Mr. Spock. I’d love to go. But I can’t leave here now; there’s just too much for me to do. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, Miss McCoy, and I think your father will understand as well.” Spock paused. “You do him great honor.”
Further canon sources here
Not too far away a head turned, searching.
“Oh, yes, that’s Joanna,” Weinstein said. “Tireless young woman; she’s been working like a dog. How do you know her?”
Spock had never met Joanna McCoy, but he’d taken the precaution of seeing a picture of her before he’d left the Enterprise. She clearly looked like McCoy’s daughter-- her smile marked her as such without hope of appeal-- but she was a softer McCoy, pretty without glamour. “Thank God she doesn’t look like me,” Spock had heard Bones McCoy say once, but she did.
Now she looked tired. Her smock was streaked with dirt and blood; she badly needed some rest, a shower, and two or three meals. Her nails were broken. She was wearing one earring; the other was missing. Her skirt was ripped. She looked as if she wished she could brush her teeth.
She looks magnificent, thought Spock in a detached way.
Joanna McCoy had been wrapping an elderly woman’s leg wound with sterilized rags. An open medikit lay on the ground. As Spock approached, Joanna finished the job, spoke quietly to the woman, and directed two young men nearby-- the woman’s sons, perhaps-- to pick her up gently and take her to the boathouse for observation. Then she rose, stood straight, and looked for whoever it was that had been calling her.
She spotted the Vulcan right away; her eyes quickly found the ship’s insigne on Spock’s blue shirt, and the similar insignia on the shirts of the four with the Vulcan. “The Enterprise!” she exclaimed. She read the commander’s stripes on Spock’s sleeves and said, “You must be Mr. Spock. My father’s written me about you. I’m Joanna McCoy.”
Joanna was polite; she offered the Salute, which Spock returned. “Live long and prosper, Miss McCoy.” Spock performed the introductions to Chekov and the others.
“Is my father with you?” She looked past Spock for him.
“No. He chose to remain aboard the ship, for now. He had pressing duties there. I also believe he is undergoing emotional distress concerning your fate.”
“Oh, poor daddy,” Joanna fretted. She frowned just like her father, and Spock was again struck by the resemblance. “He always was a worrier. Look, I’ll give you a note to take back with you, if that’s alright.”
“I am prepared to take you up to the Enterprise, if you desire to go,” Spock said. “I believe your father would be glad to see you.”
“I know he would, Mr. Spock. I’d love to go. But I can’t leave here now; there’s just too much for me to do. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly, Miss McCoy, and I think your father will understand as well.” Spock paused. “You do him great honor.”
Further canon sources here