My Star Trek One-Shots

McCoy PT 3

The sun shimmered over the golden spires of Starfleet Command, the great buildings casting long shadows across the plaza as dignitaries, officers, and Federation delegates gathered in quiet, dignified rows. A breeze from the nearby bay rustled the flags—dozens of them—fluttering from high poles along the marble steps.

Today, a new one would be added.

Sahri stood near the center of the plaza in her dress uniform, hands clasped behind her back, eyes locked on the emblem of Velar embroidered onto the silk blue sash she wore across her shoulder. The spiraling wind symbol gleamed faintly in the sunlight.

The ceremony was nearly over. Velar had been welcomed into the Federation with warm speeches, open applause, and no small amount of awe over the elemental traditions her people embodied. It was a long road to get here.

She hadn't thought she'd cry. But as the Velari planetary anthem played softly through the square and she watched the Velari flag rise slowly beside the Federation banner—she did.

And then she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Not bad for a menace with wind in her veins."

She turned and smiled. "Bones."

McCoy stood beside her in his own formal uniform, somehow managing to look sharp and still grumpy about it. But there was warmth in his eyes. And standing next to him, eyes wide and curious, was a young girl with McCoy's chin and dark eyes full of mischief.

"This is my daughter," McCoy said, voice softer than usual. "Joanna."

Sahri crouched slightly and offered a hand. "Hi, Joanna. I'm Sahri. Your dad's been patching me up for years."

Joanna giggled and shook her hand. "He said you're kind of like a superhero."

Sahri raised her eyebrows at Bones, who was suddenly very focused on the ground. "Did he now?"

"Slipped out," he muttered.

Joanna leaned in conspiratorially. "He talks about you a lot."

Sahri flushed slightly, but laughed. "Well, now the pressure's on to impress."

And then—a voice she hadn't heard in years.

"Sahri."

She turned—and her breath caught. Her mother stood at the edge of the crowd, wrapped in traditional Velari ceremonial robes, hair braided with pale feathers, airbender tattoos aglow in soft silver along her temples. Time had deepened her features, but her presence still felt like wind in motion—powerful and calm.

"Mother," Sahri whispered.

They moved at the same time—closing the distance not with hesitation, but with urgency. They embraced tightly, the wind curling around them like it, too, had missed this moment.

Her mother stepped back, hands on Sahri's arms. "You've grown stronger than I ever imagined."

Sahri swallowed. "I wasn't sure you'd still be proud."

"I never stopped being proud. I just . . . forgot how to show it."

They didn't need to say more.

Celebration spilled into the night. There were lanterns suspended by subtle gusts of wind, music from both Federation and Velari traditions, dancing and laughter.

Sahri sat on a bench beneath a tall tree, watching Joanna spin with other children through a glowing spiral of breeze conjured by a young Velari artist. Her mother was speaking to Kirk, and Spock was cautiously attempting a Velari-style refreshment that sparkled with elemental energy.