Chapter Three
It's All About Me
Uhura, Spock, McCoy, and M'Benga huddled with a delicate, waist-high lieutenant Jim didn't recognize, whispering. Periodically, one or the other glanced his direction then looked away, obviously uncomfortable with meeting his eyes. Tired of watching himself discussed, he called, "Could we speed this up? I need to get to work. Captain of the ship may not have quite the panache of doctor, but it's generally considered an important job."
The officers turned as a group, looked at him, and then back at each other. They seemed to have reached a decision. Spock nodded gravely to the healer, a female with a perfectly round face and skin that matched her medical tunic. She clasped her hands, took a deep breath, and stepped toward him.
"Captain Kirk, please let me know when you hear me in your mind," the healer said kindly.
Her's eyes made him think she was trying to tell him something, but he got nothing. She's working hard, I wish, but he didn't finish the thought. He felt a fluttering in his joints then suddenly, very embarrassed. He heard himself think, {I am uncomfortable doing this to him, but Mr. Spock approves, it must be right.}
"Mr. Spock wants what?" he asked.
The healer looked perplexed and asked, "Did you get something, sir?"
He said, "I heard myself say that if Mr. Spock wants something, it must be alright."
"You heard that?" she asked. "Did you get a picture of anything? No? A color? Did you get a picture of anything of a certain color?"
Jim shook his head. "Just feelings that aren't mine. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I can't explain it better than that. I was bored; then suddenly, I was embarrassed too, and I heard myself think that if Spock wants me to do it, it is alright." He looked over her head to the clutch of officers behind her and called, "Which, I assure all of you, is not something I would normally think."
The healer turned back to the group. "This is unexpected," she said and took a step closer. "Can you hear or see anything unusual now?" she asked.
"It's all very unusual," laughed Jim wryly.
The healer nodded. The anxiety ramped up, but he felt curiosity too. He tried to explain, "It's like I am doing my thinking and someone else's too. Half of me feels like myself; half of me feels concerned that I'm doing something wrong." He paused and added, "I know that isn't my thought. I never feel like that."
"And you never saw a picture in your head of a red box?" asked the healer.
Jim shook his head.
"But you can hear Lieutenant M'mms thoughts?" M'Benga asked.
"I keep telling you, I don't hear anyone but myself, but I am saying things I don't think."
"Not the alphabet?" the healer, M'mms, asked.
"Not the alphabet," Jim agreed. In his head, he heard his voice say, {He is not a telepath, perhaps some sort of empath, but he seems remarkably unaffected.} He raised an eyebrow and M'mms flushed a lovely robin's egg blue. He felt stinging embarrassment run through his body and heard, {he is so charming.} He grinned, and M'mms blushed harder.
The next several hours were spent investigating the details of his condition, which the healer kept referring to as his gift. He didn't mind the term. It was occasionally disorienting, but he didn't find it frightening.
They established that he could only read the healer's emotions when she was trying to project images to him, and her coming closer did not make it easier. She could only read him as she did most humans, indistinct images but no specific thoughts. He could read Bones at twenty-five centimeters. Uhura had to touch him for him to hear her. Spock did not volunteer to participate in the experiments.
Even when experiencing the other's strongest emotions, he never lost awareness of his own. He couldn't get pictures or even all their thoughts. He would hear several sentences and then miss some, only to pick up the thread again in a few seconds.
"Why do you think that is?" McCoy asked.
The healer shook her head. "Perhaps he hears only the sender's strongest thoughts?" she suggested, "or perhaps he hears only those that relate to the emotion he picks up?"
Jim interrupted, "Spock has something to say."
"How did you know? Can you hear his thoughts now?" McCoy asked.
"No, I can tell by how he's standing," Jim said.
McCoy looked skeptically at Spock. "He looks the same as he always does, like a cat knee-high in water."
Jim smiled. That's his bracing-for-a-noisy-McCoy-response stance, Bones, he thought, but said, "Go ahead, Mr. Spock."
"Captain," Spock said. "I have observed that you are the primary subject of the thoughts you are receiving."
That can't be right, Jim thought. He tried frantically to remember even one example of something he'd heard that proved Spock wrong.
After a thoughtful pause, "I think you may be right, Mr. Spock," M'Benga said.
"Of course he's right," Uhura said. "The question is, why? Is the captain only capable of hearing thoughts about himself, or is it that he is only noticing those thoughts that interest him?"
Jim said, "I am interested in lots of things, Uhura. In fact, I'm not even close to the top ten of my interests."
Uhura and McCoy exchanged a skeptical glance. "It can't be that!" Jim protested.
"I shall investigate," M'mms said. She asked Jim to repeat what he heard. Jim concentrated hard then shifted uncomfortably.
"Did you hear something?" McCoy asked.
Jim nodded.
"Well, what was it?" asked McCoy.
"I'd rather not say," Jim said.
"Captain," Spock began, but McCoy interrupted.
"If you want to get better, you need to cooperate with the specialist," McCoy said.
Jim sighed. "Fine. I heard: he is very handsome, then a pause, Captain Kirk is brave, and another break, then, our captain has lovely eyes. This is embarrassing, Bones."
"Yeah, yeah," McCoy said dismissively. "What's it prove?" he asked the healer.
"I am alternating descriptions of you and the captain," M'mms said. "Did you hear nothing about the doctor's intellect, captain?"
"No," he said, "and I don't want to hear anything more."
McCoy said. "I'll help her broadcast some of your interests. You tell us what you hear." He instructed M'mms to think about steaks on an open fire. Jim got nothing. Then McCoy called up some descriptions of battles on his PADD. He had the healer read them, and imagine the scenes. Again, Jim heard nothing.
"I hate to admit it, but I think Spock may be right, Jim. You only have one other big interest that I know of, and I can't think of a way to test your susceptibility," Bones mused.
Spock said, "Perhaps holos, doctor?" He asked the healer, "Do you have any particular cultural prohibitions against pornography?"
"Alright Spock, that won't be necessary," Kirk said. "I believe you. I can only hear thoughts about myself."
McCoy ordered a scan of his brain, then of his whole nervous system, and then another of his brain. It took hours, and he wasn't allowed to eat. Everyone drifted back to work except Uhura, who sat with him while he fidgeted.
"I can't take anymore," he complained. "I don't care what's wrong with me; I can't lay here and stay at the ceiling."
"Here's the doctor," Uhura said, pointing to Bones, holding a tricorder, and looking frustrated.
"You're sure you didn't touch anything on that planet?" McCoy barked.
"I touched lots of things. I was there for hours. But if you're asking if I had any experiences that other people didn't have, then no. Nothing," Jim said.
"Wait," Uhura said slowly, "you fell."
"I did," Jim agreed, "I spilled my pack and thrashed about in ten centimeters of bog water grabbing for my things."
"So you touched a fair number of things," McCoy said with a frown.
Jim nodded. "Yes, but that worksite is a swamp. All the crew members down there have touched the water and the dirt. None of our scans suggested any reason for us to be careful."
"Did you cut yourself?"
"No, but I got a hold of a little piece of pottery. I thought it was my communicator because it was smooth. It was weird."
"Weird how?" McCoy asked.
Jim shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's hard to explain. It was like warm ice; it made my fingers tingle." He continued more slowly, "Touching it gave me the same feeling I have right before I start hearing people." He jumped off the bed. "Bones! You've solved it! I caught something off the pottery!"
Bones called Spock, who returned to sickbay and listened gravely to the story. "We need to organize a search party," he said. Our priority must be to find and analyze the artifact Captain Kirk touched. We are fortunate Miss Uhura was present and so knows its general location. She can lead the away team."
"You don't need to do that Spock," Jim said. "Hand me my pack."
Spock cocked an eyebrow. "Captain, are you saying you brought the artifact onto the ship?"
"You did what?" McCoy turned around and yelled, "Chapel! Hit the bio-hazard alarm!"
Klaxons sounded around them as the hatches locked, and the air pressure rose. Crew members stepped out of rooms to see what the emergency was, their expressions grim in the harsh virucidal lights. "Calm down Bones," Jim said. "The whole planet was scanned, analyzed, and found without significant hazards. People take souvenirs. We pretend they don't, but they do. The crew's private quarters are full of them. It's little. It didn't hurt anything."
Red-faced, McCoy hissed, "Do you not understand? You hurt you! We have regulations for a reason, Captain Kirk!"
A suited hazard team arrived and collected Jim's pack, with the artifact still inside. As the robot rolled away, dirty water dribbled out, and the team jumped like they'd spilled a live torpedo. Only McCoy's expression kept Jim from laughing. When the team finished, the doctor ordered Jim to an isolation chamber.
"That," Jim argued, "is unnecessary, an example of the kind of over-commitment to procedures that hold us back. It's Starfleet's biggest flaw."
"Isolation is that way, Captain Kirk," McCoy replied, pointing. "Get in it so I can put the medical unit on lockdown for disinfecting."
It was evening before McCoy was finally satisfied no one else was going to develop the condition and canceled the emergency. Jim watched the weary alpha shift heading to the exit, obviously eager to leave. Bones was right; this is my fault, he thought. They worked hours past shift change because I wanted a rock.
McCoy leaned out of his office. "Join us, Jim," he said. "It's more private. Turns out there's no need for isolation. Whatever this is, it isn't biologic."
Jim swallowed the desire to say, I told you so, and said, "That's good news. Then I can get back to work, right?"
"Take a seat, Jim," McCoy said. "Spock is here too." He waited till both officers were down, then turned on the viewer on his desk. "Here's your baseline neural scan. Here's the one I took this morning. See the difference?"
"Not really," Jim said.
"I'll highlight it. See that little red semi-circle? That's a neural pathway that wasn't there originally. This part of the brain, in those species that have it, generally controls psionic function. See how it is shaped? That's not natural."
"You're saying my brain changed," Jim said quietly, "like Gary."
"No," Bones said firmly. "Not like Gary. His entire brain changed and kept changing. You have one new neural pathway. It is tiny, and it appears to be stable, and you seem remarkably unaffected by it. I would tell you if you had a profound injury like Gary did Jim. You don't."
Jim smiled at his old friend. I don't need psychic powers to know you are telling the truth, he thought.
Spock, who had moved his chair an awkward distance from Jim said, "The area was completely dark on your original scan. It's reasonable to assume your new abilities are related to growth in an area of the brain where humans in general, and you in particular, do not naturally have much electrical activity. I assume you did not test as particularly sensitive to telepathy."
"All my sensitivity scores were pretty low," laughed Jim.
"That's an understatement," McCoy said. "How many teary young things called you insensitive when we were roommates?"
Jim shrugged. "So, how did it get there? Do you honestly think it came from touching a piece of pottery?"
"That will be Spock's purview. I'm telling you what I know. Which is, you have a new neural pathway. It's not an implant; it's your tissue. However, its shape suggests it was not a natural development. We need to continue to monitor it, but at this time, it does not appear to be of any physical risk to you or anyone else."
"Thanks, Bones," Jim said. "How about you Spock? What've you got for me?"
"My efforts captain," the first officer began, "were somewhat curtailed by my confinement in the medical bay. However, I have been assisting in the analysis of the artifact. It is fascinating. Despite its simple appearance, it is a very complex piece of machinery, created using technology not described in Federation literature. I do not like to speculate, my research is far from complete, and my analysis is based only on simulations. I believe, however, that should we eventually understand it, it may have profound implications in the fields of medicine."
"On point Spock, please, and try to make it simple," Kirk said.
The Vulcan stopped, blinked and then began again. "When touched, the artifact changes the brain of sentients."
"Like the Tholians?" interrupted Jim, "if I get far enough away from it, will I stop having these sessions? We could toss it out a garbage chute."
"I consider that unlikely sir. The effect is somewhat similar; the process is not. The changes to your brain are physiological, and were not thus far, affected by physical proximity to the shard."
"Good point," Jim said, disappointed.
"I can offer as yet no explanation for why you are suddenly telepathically receptive to thoughts about you and nothing else. I see no logic in harnessing such energy to accomplish so very little. I will continue to study the device. Perhaps once we know its original purpose, we will be able to control it. To this end, I have directed Mr. Sulu to return the ship to MC688. Once there, we will provide support to the original team and change its mission from exploration to research. In the meantime, Lt. Uhura is leading efforts to translate the scripts she recorded while on the planet. It may facilitate our understanding of the device."
Jim nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Spock. That all sounds good." He cleared his throat and said, "Now I have a few questions. Why is it that I can stand right next to Uhura and not hear her unless she touches me, but I can hear Scotty from across the room? Does that make any sense?"
"I don't know kid," Bones said.
Mr. Spock took a small step back.
Okay, Jim thought. That's pretty much the Vulcan equivalent of throwing your arms up and wailing, 'don't talk to me.' He cleared his throat. "Spock?" he asked, trying for encouraging yet commanding in his tone.
Spock said, "I believe I may have some insights on this topic."
"I thought you might," Jim said.
"Captain," Spock said, "as a human, you may be unaware that just as telepathic receptiveness varies from individual to individual, so too does an individual's powers of transmission."
"Really?" asked McCoy.
Spock nodded once. "It is well documented," he said, "and true among most species."
"So you are saying some people are just naturally louder telepathically?" Jim asked.
Spock blinked. "I did not say that, although it is perhaps, one way to express my point," he said.
"So, you could be walking down the street, and suddenly, a total stranger might be inside your head?" McCoy sounded horrified.
"It is more accurate to say that occasionally one encounters individuals to whom it is difficult to close one's mind. That is one of the reasons telepathic young receive instruction in control of both their receptive and perceptive abilities from an early age." Spock's voice was firm, but he was gazing slightly over their shoulders as he spoke.
He's uncomfortable, Jim thought. I know Vulcans consider discussions of their telepathic abilities to be in poor taste, but I've never seen him like this before.
"Among any group of individuals," Spock said slowly, "there will always be several who," he paused, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, "might benefit from such instruction. This crew is no exception. The psionically sensitive crew members generally acknowledge Mr. Scott to be one such individual."
"Are you saying," McCoy asked gruffly, "that Scotty is easy to read?"
Spock nodded. "That is correct."
"Hell, I said that, and I'm not a telepath."
"No," Spock replied, "you are not, but there are crewmembers that assure me you are quite empathetic."
McCoy frowned, trying to work out if he had been insulted. The first officer continued, "However, you were correct, doctor. Mr. Scott is so; I will say noisy, in his transmission that all but the most psionically closed individuals would have some sense of his feelings. On Vulcan, there was a colloquial term for this tendency. It would translate as bleeding. Those individuals considered emotionally loud are called bleeders."
"So, if you're sitting with Scotty, you can hear what he thinks?" McCoy asked.
Spock blinked. "No, doctor, I would never allow myself to do so. Especially when observed in humans, who do not usually consider their psychic energy, bleeding is acknowledged to be accidental. No Vulcan would purposely wallow in the emotions of others."
Did he say wallow? Jim wondered.
"However," Spock continued, "even Lieutenants Mmm's who, as a healer has trained to maximize her skills, occasionally mentions the difficulty she experiences shielding herself in the presence of some crew members."
Bones said. "I never knew any of this."
Jim said. "I guess it makes sense. You said it yourself, Bones. Everyone knows what Scotty is thinking. Who else Spock?"
The first officer looked at him but did not reply.
"Who else on the crew is a bleeder?" Jim asked again.
"I bet I could make a list," Bones said thoughtfully. "Bleeders would be popular. It would be easy to establish emotional bonds with someone like that."
"Is he right?" Jim asked.
Spock said slowly, "I believe captain, it will soon become apparent to you."