After dinner Spock stripped off his jacket and boots to lie on his bunk, one arm resting across his eyes. McCoy was not the only one who thought him indifferent to, perhaps even secretly pleased by, Doctor Fielding's condition. Considering his treatment of her in the past, that was not surprising. He had spoken to no one about the confusion she aroused in him. It was becoming clear that he would never resolve that confusion until he allowed himself to experience his feelings for her and examine them. But for now, the situation aboard ship demanded all his attention. Two crewmembers were down. It was his duty to ensure that nothing further happened to those under his command.
Reaching a decision, Spock sat up and triggered the bedside intercom. "Captain to Security."
"Security here," came the prompt reply. "Hanson speaking."
"Double the guard on the Gamman children," Spock ordered. "Admit no one—I repeat, no one to the gymnasium without my written authorization. Make an announcement to that effect."
"Aye, Captain. Right away."
Spock lay back and listened for the announcement, but words alone could not put his mind at ease.
ooooo
Kirk sat staring at his cabin intercom long after it went silent. So the cute little Gammans were locked up tight. Very cool, very correct, Spock, but what good will that do Chapel and Fielding now? The kids already have them…
Have them? Taken aback by the peculiar thought, Kirk stood. The walls of the V.I.P. cabin seemed too close, too confining. Suddenly he found himself missing the wide bank of windows at his apartment back home, where he could stand gazing out over the shimmering waters of San Francisco Bay. He always felt safe there, warm and sheltered behind the glass.
Wait a minute, he thought. What's going on here? Even in the worst kind of danger he had always felt safe aboard the Enterprise. But then, he had been in command. He wasn't stuck on the sidelines, at the mercy of someone else's decisions—even if that someone happened to be Spock.
It was a disloyal thought and Kirk gladly pushed it aside when his doorchime rang out. "Enter," he called.
Janice Rand walked in. Her eyes and nose looked a little pink, as if she had been crying. "Sir, did you hear the announcement?" she asked. He nodded. "I was just down to see Laurie…and Chris Chapel. They're no better, and so far Doctor McCoy hasn't been able to turn up a thing." She hesitated before adding, "Do you think it really is the children? Some kind of disease they're carrying?"
"They passed through decontamination, didn't they?"
"Yeah, I beamed them in myself. They tested clean."
"Then it's not that," Kirk reassured her. "Anyway, Bones would have found a disease organism right away. It has to be something else, something…" Reaching for some new idea, he went silent.
"Admiral." Janice spoke hesitantly. "What if they're doing it with their minds?"
A chill crept over him. They had recently dealt with an unseen symbiant whose mind control raised havoc and left two crewmembers dead. "The captain has explored that possibility. Gammans aren't on record as having any telepathic ability."
"But that doesn't necessarily mean these Gammans aren't telepaths. What were they doing out here in Space? Everything about them is strange."
Kirk forced a nervous smile. "Look, even if they could make people go unconscious, which they can't, those kids wouldn't harm a slime worm. Just think of those little doll faces." But deep down, he was not so sure.
Frowning, she glanced away. "I know, they're adorable. Everyone says so. But it's not any slime worm that worries me—it's a friend lying in a coma."
An uneasy silence settled over the room.
Janice gave him a long, searching look. "I know I shouldn't say this, but I…I wish you were back in command."
Kirk felt embarrassed for them both, but most of all for Spock. "You're just worried," he said gently. "We all are. But you can trust Spock. He's back on his feet and he knows what he's doing."
She gave a distracted nod and left for her own cabin.
Slipping off his jacket, Kirk poured himself some Saurian brandy and sat down to think. Funny, what Janice had said. What could she have meant? Was she actually hoping he would take command away from Spock? He would never do that. But all this inactivity was starting to get to him. He didn't like feeling threatened by a bunch of kids and not being able to do anything about it. All his life he had met danger head-on. Now here he was, lounging around sipping brandy while two fine women hung somewhere between life and death.
"Damn it," he muttered impatiently. "There must be something I can do!"
Even as he spoke the words, a feeling of entitlement came over him. He had a right to act. In actuality, it was his duty to act. After all, he was Chief of Starfleet Operations.
Draining his glass, he plunked it down on a table and went over to his desk.
ooooo
Spock awoke suddenly, a cry for help ringing through his mind. Lying in the dark he hesitated, one hand lifted to the intercom. Perhaps it was only another nightmare. He did not want to disturb the admiral unnecessarily, but if Jim truly was in trouble…
It occurred to Spock that he no longer trusted his own inner sense. How could he command if he could not even make such a simple decision?
He called to the V.I.P. quarters. There was no response. He thought a moment and then contacted the gymnasium guard station.
"Phillips here!" snapped a tense, youthful voice.
There was a great deal of talking in the background, and the sound of hurried boot steps. Fear teased along Spock's spine like small, icy fingers. He sat up and turned on the light. "Phillips. What is happening there?"
"Sir…they're bringing out the admiral. Taking him to sickbay. He's breathing, sir. He's alive!"
Spock stared at the intercom, not wanting to believe that he had heard correctly. "Admiral Kirk was in the gym? How could that be, Phillips? He had no authorization."
The guard was slow to answer. "Begging your pardon, sir, but the admiral did have authorization. I have it right here in my hand. Your signature is on it."
Angrily Spock broke the connection, then brought himself under control. Why would Jim forge an authorization to visit the Gammans in the middle of the night? Over the years he had acquired a reputation as something of a "maverick" in Starfleet, a flouter of regulations, a taker of unwarranted risks. But as Spock hurriedly dressed, he considered a far more disturbing possibility. Everyone felt unusually attracted to the children. What if his own persistent uneasiness was a reaction to some psychic force outside himself? What if that same force was now reaching beyond the gymnasium to draw in more victims?
Spock fastened his jacket and started for the door. After only two steps he came to a halt. Compressing his lips in annoyance, he went back for his socks and boots.
ooooo
Kirk was in sickbay when Spock arrived. A medical team surrounded the unconscious admiral, stripping away clothes, operating scanners, interpreting data. Spock stood aside, waiting for the activity around Kirk to subside. Several minutes passed before McCoy noticed him. The grim-faced doctor dropped what he was doing and stalked over.
"Why the hell did you let him go in there?" McCoy said through his teeth.
Keeping a firm grip on his own emotions, Spock explained what he knew of the situation, including his untested theory of a non-physical threat. Only then did he allow his concern for Jim to surface. "Doctor, the admiral. How is he?"
"Comatose," McCoy said bitterly, "same as the others. I don't know what to do for him—or any of them. It's as if they've retreated completely out of reach."
Spock looked over at Kirk on the diagnostic bed. He seemed as still and lifeless as a corpse. A few feet away, Chapel and Fielding lay in the same condition. "Doctor," he said quietly, "there may be a way to reach them. If in fact we are dealing with a psychic force, it may be the only way."
Understanding dawned in McCoy's eyes. "You don't mean a meld. Spock, are you strong enough?"
"I don't know," Spock said frankly. Joining with another mind was taxing, even in the best of health, and with a fully cooperative subject. "If I approach it cautiously there should be no damage."
McCoy shook his head in doubt. "Spock, you may be in good enough shape to command a starship, but this is another thing entirely. I'm not sure I can allow it."
But Spock's mind was already set. Flexing his fingers at his sides, he tossed about for some way of gaining the medical chief's consent. "Chapel and Fielding. You have been monitoring them now for several hours. Have you detected any change at all in their condition?"
"Well…" McCoy glanced over at the women, pain evident in his eyes. "Yes…I suppose they have drifted a little deeper."
"You suppose? Either they have or they haven't."
Bleakly McCoy admitted, "They have."
"And it can be assumed that Jim will do likewise."
"Yes, one might assume—but Spock—" The doctor tossed up his hands in defeat. "Oh, go on ahead. One way or another you'll do it anyhow. It might as well be with me here to pick up the pieces."
A curtain was drawn around Kirk, the attendants sent away. Spock's fingers trembled slightly, betraying his tension as he arranged them over the admiral's face. Jim's skin felt cool, but alive. And Spock wondered, will I be able to meld? What if the sickness also took this from me? Never again to reach out of myself and join with another…
For a terrible moment the thought of failing paralyzed him. Then he closed his eyes and let his mind flow outward…
Jim?
No answer. Nothing seemed to be there. Then, faintly, Spock sensed a distant presence. He attempted to delve deeper, but met resistance.
Jim! Come here to me!
Emptiness swallowed his call. And once again, something was there, moving. Then…gone.
Spock withdrew and stood gathering his thoughts while McCoy loosed a stream of questions. "What happened? Did you reach Jim? Are you alright? Well, for Pete's sake, talk to me!"
At last Spock said, "It was not Jim. I don't know what it was." He walked over to Doctor Chapel, considered entering her mind, but moved on to Doctor Fielding's bed and gazed down at her pallid face. The possibility of joining with either woman's thoughts made him uncomfortable, though for very different reasons. He turned away knowing what he must do while there was a chance to save them. "It is no use looking here any further."
"Okay…" McCoy said slowly. "And praytell, where do you intend to look?"
At Spock's silence a storm abruptly gathered in the steely human eyes. "Now just one cottonpickin' minute!" McCoy erupted. "You're not going in with those kids. Dammit, you'll end up just like these others."
Spock found it uncanny, how the Doctor McCoy sometimes read him. McCoy knew he could not lie…outright. "Doctor, calm yourself," he said soothingly. "I have not said anything of the kind."
McCoy stepped closer and peered into Spock's face. "Go ahead, look me in the eye and say you're not going to…and maybe even try to mix minds."
Spock did not attempt to hold the doctor's gaze. "I have no time for this," he said impatiently and walked out the door. It would have been best to let the matter drop for a while in order to allay McCoy's suspicion, but Spock felt pressured to act quickly. As he strode through the corridors he questioned himself. Am I being influenced by the Gammans? By blind emotion? It occurred to him that he should take time to meditate and be sure of his motivations. But upon reaching his cabin, the call to action was even more urgent and he convinced himself that he must meet the threat head-on, immediately.
He quickly made an entry in the captain's log describing what he was about to do and why. Though he could have awakened Sulu and briefed him directly, he did not want to face the objections of his second-in-command. Then he was out the door, moving silently toward the turbolift. A sudden commotion disturbed the early morning quiet of deck five. A cabin door opening, hurried footsteps.
"Spock!" The startling shout rang out. Turning, Spock stiffened at the sight of McCoy rushing toward him, a half-dressed Sulu nor far behind.
McCoy saw the turbolift arrive and broke into a run. "Wait for us!" he panted.
Spock quickly entered the lift, ordered the doors to close, and watched them slide shut in the doctor's indignant face. Alone in the rushing car, he succumbed to the growing weariness of the past twenty-four hours—the mounting tension and self-doubt, the unvoiced grief—and yes, the anger. Tightly gripping the handrail, he thought, Jim, if you had come to me, I would have willingly stepped aside in this crisis, I would have willingly stood at your side. Instead, you took matters into your own hands…
The lift changed direction and the shaft lamps flickered past in a horizontal rush. Almost there—and he, not Jim, commanded. The Enterprise was his, along with all the responsibility for its crew, the trainees, and young Gamman passengers. He must act now, while the children were still aboard ship, at least nominally under his control.
The turbolift came to a stop and the doors slid aside. Spock stepped into the recreation deck's main lobby. Two men stood guard at the sealed gymnasium entrance. Hurrying to the station, he gave his instructions. "Re-engage the lock as soon as I pass through. Allow me fifteen minutes. If I am not back by then, even though everything appears normal on your monitor, consider it a medical emergency."
There was a hiss of doors opening behind him.
"Spock!" McCoy's angry cry reverberated through the lobby. "Spock, for the love of God, wait up!"
Spock entered the gym without looking back.
As the locking mechanism engaged, he repressed a cold prickle of foreboding and turned up the lights. For a long moment he surveyed the makeshift dormitory and play area. Though it was still ship's night, the children were not in their cots, nor were they out playing. To all appearances the hall was deserted, but Spock knew otherwise.
They were only hiding. Behind the food dispenser and athletic equipment, inside the changing corridor and fabricator booth lurked thirteen young Gammans. Their nearness tickled the fringes of Spock's mind.
In a far corner, a ball bounced and rolled into sight. A Gamman pipe sounded, small feet scampered, and then all was quiet again. Steeling himself, Spock set out toward the disturbance, stepping with caution over toys as he worked to strengthen his mental barriers.
Something moved nearby. Spock whirled and a small projectile struck his chest. The painless impact brought a chorus of shrill music that grew in volume and abruptly stopped.
Spock dove behind the food dispenser and caught Bird-in-Flight. The unresisting boy grinned up at him, all silvery eyes and tousled hair, radiating an aura of innocence that made Spock's grip on the child's shirt seem foolish. Other children crept out of hiding and encircled him. Raising pipes to their lips, they began to play a haunting musical language.
As Spock listened, picking out words, he released his hold on Bird-in-Flight. His mind began to drift and he could not seem to stop it. The rising notes carried him higher, higher, away from the Enterprise and all its concerns. For a long time he floated somewhere this side of sleep, somewhere pleasant and very restful…but deep in his mind there stirred a half-hearted reproach.
Spock. What are you doing?
Nothing. Almost smiling at the thought, he stretched lazily.
Spock, snapped the inner voice, get to work!
The authoritative words shook Spock to the center of his being. With a thrill of shame, he jerked awake. His heart thudding, he sat up expecting to find Father standing over him, eyes black with disapproval. Instead he found himself alone on the floor of the Enterprise gymnasium.
Why had he thought of Sarek? Why was he lying here? He looked around in confusion. The Gammans had run off to other games, happily chasing each other across the vast room like silver khree pups. Their playful pipe trills beckoned to him and he badly wanted to follow…
No. He must not. Putting his hands over his ears, he tried to shut out the sound of their flutes. He felt so…different. With a stirring of nameless dread he brought his fingers down lower and touched smooth, baby-soft cheeks. He froze…then pulled his hands away and stared at them. Slowly he moved his eyes over the rest of his body, noticing for the first time what he was wearing. Beneath the long Vulcan tunic and leggings, his skin prickled. Impossible!
Spock leapt to his feet, but the horror would not dislodge. It clung tightly to his juvenile clothing, to the frightened boyish body underneath. Glancing up, he saw others, their eyes as wide open and staring as his own. And he knew them immediately, however much the logical portion of his mind protested. There was no logic in this moment—only emotion. Relief, regret, bitter embarrassment.
"Spock," said the admiral—the belligerent-looking boy in play clothes who would someday be admiral. Young Jim Kirk blushed at the ineffectual sound of his own voice, but carried on in soprano. "Spock, what are you doing here?"
Spock experienced a rush of anger. "You are the one who acted against orders. My orders!" He tried pitching his voice lower. "You entered without authorization. You forged my signature!"
"It wasn't my fault," Jim shot back. "The Gammans made me do it. And besides, I outrank you." Hazel eyes blazing, he taunted, "I'll always outrank you!"
Spock became aware of Christine watching, poised to intervene. A second fair-haired girl stepped in front of young Kirk and said, "Stop it, please. Fighting won't do any good."
Spock looked at the thin straight line parting Lauren's braids and the sense of unreality almost overwhelmed him. But the threat in Jim's eyes was very real and touched off something primitive inside Spock. He did not like having his authority ignored, and he did not like being insulted. Taking a stop closer, he said, "Jim. You forget that I am in command of this ship."
Jim pushed Lauren aside and launched himself at Spock. The impact dropped them to the deck and they began pummeling one another. As the Gammans came running, Christine and Lauren tried unsuccessfully to pull the two boys apart.
"Do something!" Lauren begged the aliens, but they hung back, wide-eyed and silent as the tussle continued.
Spock was on top now. Catching hold of Jim's wrists, he initiated a Vulcan wrestling move that flipped the boy and pinned him to the deck.
"Let go of me!" Jim hissed.
Spock easily held him. "If I am not mistaken, this is where you say 'uncle'."
"This is where I say 'go to hell'," Jim groaned, but he was clearly beaten.
After a moment Spock released him and stood wiping the blood from his nose. The frustrated human boy climbed to his feet and ran to the changing corridor. No one followed. With the fight at an end, the Gammans lost interest and straggled off to other amusements.
Lauren fetched a wet towel, but Christine snatched it away from her and said, "I'll tend to Spock. Why don't you check on the little admiral?"
"I'll tend to myself," Spock said. Taking the towel, he wiped his face while Lauren glared at her nemesis.
Christine's eyes were on Spock and she was smiling. "Well, I guess you showed him."
Spock frowned and walked away. What he had shown all of them was a lack of control. Finding a quiet corner, he sat on the floor, wrapped in his private pain. What had become of him—of them all? Clearly they had passed into some other reality—their bodies comatose in sickbay, yet touching, feeling, and reasoning here in an interworld known only to themselves and the Gamman children. If they were visible to the crew, their presence would have been apparent on the monitor. No, they could not expect any help from the Enterprise. Alone, he nursed his bruises and watched the Gammans wreak havoc in yet another game of chase. Around and around they scrambled, upsetting furniture and leaping over pommel horses.
Suddenly they swarmed toward him like restless bees. Spock rose and braced himself. An arm's length away, the silvery rush of bodies came to a halt, but an unseen force plunged onward, driving sharp little wedges into his mind. For a tortuous moment he endured their intrusive onslaught, then the children withdrew and scampered away. Shaky from the rough probing, Spock sank back to the floor.
Across the room Christine and Lauren stood watching. Lauren bit her lip as the Gammans left Spock and chased one another down the gym. "Something's wrong with him. The children did something." Before Christine could comment, Lauren set off. As she approached the Vulcan, Christine close on her heels, a subdued Jim Kirk emerged from his hideaway.
Jim came to stand before Spock. When Spock raised his battered face, Jim grimaced guiltily and averted his eyes. "Okay…you're in charge."
Young Spock observed the human's discomfort with childish satisfaction. "Are you certain?" The dry words reeked of sarcasm. "You do hold the higher rank, admiral. Perhaps under the circumstances…"
"No!" Jim's eyes found him and his fingers balled into fists. "You're captain of the Enterprise."
Spock coolly glanced at everyone, then down at himself. "I do not think, at this point, that either of us qualify."
There was a girlish giggle.
"Maybe not," Jim agreed, "but we have to stick together."
The pain of Jim's attack was fresh in Spock's mind. It was with a sense of acknowledging a very shaky truce that he finally nodded. He did not know what to expect from the youthful Kirk in this nightmarish dimension. He did not even know what to expect from himself.
ooooo
"So," McCoy said, "it's down to you." He stood to one side as Commander Sulu—acting captain of the Enterprise—walked a slow path from bed to bed. Chapel, Fielding, Kirk, and now Spock.
Sulu backtracked to Admiral Kirk and wondered aloud, "What would he do?"
"He already did it," McCoy said testily. "They all did—and look where they are now. Flat on their backs. So help me, Sulu, if you're thinking about going in there next…"
The commander turned and fixed McCoy with his dark eyes. "Absolutely not. No one else is going to enter that rec hall for any reason. The captain made that very clear in the instructions he left."
"Which of course he didn't follow."
For that, Sulu had no response, but McCoy let himself relax a bit. "Well, I'm glad you plan on staying put. Now all we have to do is figure out what the hell happened…and how to fix it."
ooooo
The youthful "crew" gathered at a table hoping to sift through their small store of facts and find answers to the questions plaguing them. Soon after the four children took seats, the ever-active Gammans made playful runs in their direction. For Spock, the antics were far from amusing. Each time a Gamman came near, he visibly tensed.
It was not long before Christine noticed and said, "Spock, you're scared of them, aren't you? I can see it on your face."
"Why don't you leave him alone?" Lauren flared.
"Make me!" Christine rose partway from her chair.
Jim intervened before another fight developed. "Anyone in their right mind would be afraid. Look what they've done to us."
"But we aren't cringing," Christine said with a toss of her blonde head.
Lauren sat quietly beside the Vulcan. Sensing his humiliation from Christine's remarks and Jim's clumsy defense, she touched his arm. "Spock we can't help noticing how the Gammans drain you. As your shipmates, as your friends, we need to know if…" Her voice trailed off.
"If I am a 'weak link'?" Spock stared hard at her fingers but did not pull away from the touch, or the sense of concern it imparted.
"No," Lauren said, "that's not what I meant. But you have telepathic abilities…"
Another Gamman skipped by, and Spock closed his eyes against the tiresome intrusion, against Jim's turbulent feelings, against Christine's jealousy and his own roiling emotions. He felt himself starting to sweat. How he had always struggled to hide that telling moisture from the dry-skinned Vulcan children. How he had despised their taunts of 'Earther'…and his own mixed blood.
"Lauren's right," Jim broke in. "Tell us what's going on."
"Before another of those little monsters come running," said Lauren.
Spock looked at her, and at Jim. There was no logic, after all, in remaining silent—no logic in this fierce, solitary pride that only set him further apart. "Very well," he said scarcely above a whisper. "The Gammans seem to use my telepathic ability as a channel into my mind. I have difficulty blocking them."
Jim considered. "Then…if they can get past your mental shields…that means they lured you in here, too?"
Part of Spock hoped Jim had not really been lured, that he was only employing a human deceit to cover his guilt, that the children's power could not reach beyond the gymnasium and continue pulling others in. But it was, at best, a faint hope. Searching Jim's face, he said, "I felt the decision was mine, but it is quite possible that I, too, was influenced by the Gammans."
A discouraged silence settled over the group. Spock felt Christine staring at him, and turned to watch the alien children at play. After a while he said, "The Gammans are not a telepathic race, yet these children—"
"Behave just like little Vulcans?" taunted Christine. "Pompous little Vulcan brats?"
Spock swung around in the chair, but the hot retort was swept from his mind by a fresh wave of psychic pain. He clutched his head.
"That does it!" growled Jim. Shouting and brandishing his fists, he burst onto the deck and the pack of Gammans scattered. For a moment the gym seemed empty, but as Jim slipped back into his seat, a rising hum from the changing corridor revealed the latest mischief. The tireless Gammans had learned how to operate the fabricators. Jim glowered. "Listen to that! They're going to tear the whole ship apart!"
Spock found himself more concerned about their own volatile emotions, than the fabricators. Quietly he said, "The fabricators will provide them with a distraction. In the meantime I suggest we put this respite to good use."
Jim nodded. "So Gammans aren't supposed to have any special mental powers."
Christine made an impatient noise. "Well, obviously they do!"
"And they're real children," said Lauren. "What about us? Do we even exist? We're not hungry, we're not thirsty, we don't sleep. Christine and I screamed ourselves hoarse any time we saw anyone. We tried the intercom, pounded on doors, pounded on people. They didn't react one bit."
"Yet the Gammans can see us and touch us," Jim added. "What the heck are we? Spirits?"
Spock cast him a scornful glance. "Must humans interject spirituality into every situation?"
"Well, if you know so much," Jim sneered, "give us the benefit of your superior brainpower. Where are we? And how do we get back?"
There was a swishing sound on the deck. All thirteen Gammans swathed in oversized bits of uniforms padded barefoot to the children's table. Instinctively Spock tensed, but for once the Gammans seemed interested in something other than his mind.
"What do you want?" Jim demanded nervously. A Gamman girl caught hold of his hand and tugged, but Jim stayed in his chair. "No! Say what you want!" Remembering that the mutes could neither understand him nor respond in a way he could understand, he said, "Spock, talk to them!"
Before Spock could raise his hands to sign, the smiling Gammans swept over and grabbed him and Lauren from their seats. More Gammans seized Jim. Christine screamed as she, too, was captured and dragged along with the others. Only Spock put up no struggle. The Vulcan, whom Jim would have expected to deliver a few good nerve pinches.
One of the children signed and Spock said, "They want to play."
"Then you play with them," Jim shot back. "I've got better things to do."
"Jim," Spock said reasonably, "we should not pass up any opportunity for communication."
The Gammans let go and crowded around them, their silvery eyes luminous with excitement. Jim turned on them, fists raised and ready. "I'll communicate with the little creeps."
"No!" Spock ordered. "Do nothing to antagonize them!"
Jim whirled on the Vulcan and shoved him hard. "You coward!"
Abruptly Spock strode away, but there was no escaping the fierce anger inside him. He did not want to lose control again.
Jim took off, closely dogging him, jeering. "What's the matter? Did I bruise your nonexistent feelings? Come on, turn around, face me!"
Lauren rushed up behind the boy-admiral and gave him a push. "Leave Spock alone, do you hear?"
Jim was whirling around to retaliate when Spock came to a halt and turned on them both. "Girl," he shouted, "I do not need your help! I do not need any of you Earthers!"
As Spock bolted, Jim yelled after him, "Oh yeah? Well, we don't need you, either, you…you freak!" For an instant Spock's stride seemed to falter and Jim found himself hoping the Vulcan would face him again, just long enough for him to say, wait…I didn't really mean it. But Spock kept going.
ooooo
"Okay, this is what I've got so far." McCoy displayed two sets of brainwave patterns on his computer screen. "See any similarity?"
Sulu leaned in for a closer look. "Not a bit."
"The top ones belong to the Gammans—I scanned them when they came aboard. Those on the bottom are from the most recent crew physicals. Kirk, Spock (you can tell his is a little different), Chapel, and Fielding. Now look. I'm going to add a third set—new readings I took from them just today."
Sulu frowned at the screen and whistled. "Even I can see that, and I'm no doctor. Those brainwaves look almost Gamman."
"It's as if those kids have plugged into them." For the first time McCoy felt hopeful, but there was still a decision that needed to be made. Looking at Sulu, he asked, "Are you hungry?"
With a nod, Sulu straightened. "Famished."
"Let's get some food and talk."
