A/N: Howdy, y'all! Thanks for the reviews! They really provide support (did I mention conspiracies are hard to write? I'm in constant fear of having it become blatantly obvious). Sorry I haven't updated in a few days, I've been seriously addicted to this story called 'Blindsight' by Peter Watts. OH MY GOSH IT'S SO AMAZING! The whole story is on rifters (which has a com at then end, after a dot) . AHHH! You want spaceships, aliens, genetic engineering, AI, robots, neuroscience, multiple personalities, consciousness, mental disorders, sentience, life/death stuff, heck VAMPIRES... it's got it ALL! df;aipadklfjo!'! (fangirls and dies).

So yeah. That's why I've been a bit slow in writing this. But here it is now!


It was before Alpha Shift the next morning that McCoy was determined to track down Captain Brahms. Jim had relayed how those were the orders from Starfleet for the Enterprise to travel to Vialis, and McCoy believed him. He was Jim. But he'd only heard second-hand at the briefing that the Apache was going to Vialis. Now, he wanted to see the orders.

Brahms wasn't in his quarters, and he wasn't on the bridge yet. Not finding him in the mess hall, McCoy gave up running all over the ship and used the computer to locate the captain. He was in conference room 2.

Grumbling to himself, he set off through the ship again, this time using a bunch of connecting rooms. It was faster, and less crowded than the halls. As he approached conference room from the secondary door, he slowed. The walls were thinner in the interior of the ship, so sounds drifted out despite the closed door. McCoy slipped closer, avoiding the sensor that opened the doors. Feeling only slightly guilty, he put his ear to the wall.

"I tell you, Admiral, everything's still going smoothly. It's only a matter of days, now." There was a pause. McCoy pressed closer, but couldn't catch more than faint rumblings. "Well, on this end, everything's set. We have no secure way of checking on Allan's progress."

Allan? Allan who? He knew about a dozen Allans. There was Allan Davis, Allan Carter on the Enterprise, Allan March, captain of the Justice, Allan Beringer, this man he knew at the Academy… And Allan could also be a last name.

"Don't worry, Epnek's assured us dozens of times that he swing it on his side if you can swing it on yours." Brahms' voice grew stern. "And you can, can't you? You promised, Admiral, I don't want anyone to get court-martialed for this."

McCoy couldn't catch the answer. But this was downright strange. Admiral who? He closed his eyes. He might be able to get a quick glimpse…

In a flash he was inside the door. "Oh, Captain, I was wondering why-"

The computer screen snapped off and inwardly McCoy cursed. He wasn't able to catch more than a streak of yellow. Brahms swiveled and faced him. "Yes?" he said, a touch of irritation in his voice.

McCoy realized he had stopped speaking. "Oh. I was wondering why we're heading to Vialis."

Brahms furrowed his brow in confusion. "Weren't you at the briefing? We're going to Vialis for a topographical survey of its properties and to study the plant and mineral-"

"I know all that," McCoy said, aware that he was interrupting. "It's just that, a starship is capable of surveying a planet all on its lonesome, correct?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

McCoy crossed his arms. "So why is Starfleet Command sending two ships to the same planet?"

"To Vialis?" he asked sharply. "What other ship?"

"The Enterprise."

Brahms frowned. "I am unsure. I'll have a talk with Captain Kirk, and between us we'll sort out just what Command wants us to do." He eyed McCoy, some of his earlier geniality seeping back into his features. "Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Doctor, though I won't ask how you learned of it."

McCoy huffed. "Nothing spectacular about it, anyway." He checked his watch. "Well, unless you have any orders, Captain, I've got to get to Sickbay."

"Of course. I need to start heading up to the bridge, myself." Brahms smiled.

When McCoy was gone from the room he reached over and switched the monitor back on. "You still there?"

"Of course," the admiral said irritably. "What was all that for?"

Brahms glanced back over his shoulder, making sure the room was still empty. "We might have a slight problem."


"It still feels empty," Uhura lamented in the mess hall.

"Aye," Scotty agreed, sipping his drink. "I kno' the bridge doesna feel the same."

She laughed darkly. "You're right. I suppose it's a good thing you stay in Engineering most of the time. Dr. Carter's nice and all, but he's rarely if ever on the bridge."

"Aye. The laddies say he never leaves the lab." Scotty drank more of his coffee.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Uhura mused, looking idly over the tables. "He's sitting over there."

Sure enough, on the other end of the mess hall Dr. Carter was digging into some scrambled eggs.

"Well," Scotty said, rising. "At least he's not verrae overbearing or somthin' like that. Now, I've got t'get back t'Engineering an' keep 'er in shape for today."

Uhura chuckled. "Alright, Scotty. See you later."

"Bye, lass."

He finished his drink and disposed of his tray. Alpha shift in Engineering was normally very busy, after things degraded during the night shift (or so Scotty thought, but he was a perfectionist).

"Oi! Williams, come an' help me with the directional tightenings down 'ere," he called. The ship had to be in peak condition for the Neutral Zone.

"Certainly, Mr. Scott!" Williams jumped down and joined him. "Sir, are you okay?"

Scotty frowned. "Of course I am. Why wouldna I be?"

Williams approached him cautiously. "It's just, you're very red in the face."

"I am?" Scotty sought out a reflective surface.

"Do you feel alright?" he asked.

"Now tha' you mention it, I'm a little woozy." Scotty took two steps forward-

-and doubled over onto the floor.

"Commander!" Williams shouted, diving after him. Someone else commed Sickbay, requesting an emergency medical team.

Williams rolled Scotty over. The man was barely conscious and clutching his midsection. His breaths were short and fast.

When M'Benga and Chapel rushed in moments later, he was completely unconscious.


Kirk had a headache the size of Mars when he returned to his quarters at the end of the day. Scotty's close call had been nerve-racking enough, and though he was expected to recover it just made Bones' absence starker.

The disturbing thing about it was that it was a foreign substance that caused the reaction. Kirk was unaware of Scotty's allergies to anything, but he'd simply had for breakfast what he always had, according to Uhura. There was nothing new or unusual on his plate.

His computer terminal beeped with an incoming message. Right on time, Kirk thought. He answered it.

"How are you doing, Bones?"

"Peachy," came the dry reply.

"Did you look into that destination error?" he asked.

McCoy frowned. "Captain Brahms said he would look into it." He didn't mention that Kirk's question implied that Brahms had not contacted him and sorted things out. "How's everything on your front?"

"There was a little incident this morning. Scotty reacted to something."

"What?!" McCoy leaned forward and gripped the desk. "Something… requiring medical attention?"

Kirk nodded. "He's on a three-day medical leave in Sickbay."

McCoy whistled. "Must have been some reaction. Good luck to Carter in keeping him there…" he trailed off.

"What is it?" Kirk asked.

McCoy shook out of his musings. "I'm not sure, Jim," he said thoughtfully. "Just what did Scotty react to?"

"Some foreign substance."

Kirk could see McCoy's eyes narrow. "That's all? Dr. Carter didn't happen to mention just what kind of foreign substance?"

Kirk stroked his chin. "No, he's still investigating that… is everything okay, Bones?"

McCoy had suddenly begun to check around his computer terminal and the software. He looked back at Jim. "Maybe, maybe not. I've got to go, but Jim." The tone on his name made Kirk sit up straighter. McCoy looked at him seriously.

"Watch your back."


McCoy cut the transmission right away and watched the screen die. Then he walked swiftly across the room and commed the bridge. "Lt. Paladin," he said to the communications officer on duty. "Can you tell me who was monitoring my private message?"

There was a sound of surprise and a 'one moment, please'. McCoy waited. Finally, after sifting through signals, Paladin replied.

"I can't tell you who, Doctor, but the tap was coming from conference room 2. Likely the computer terminal there."

"Thank you," McCoy said, then rushed out.

This late in the evening, the ship was winding down. He passed no one on his way to the conference room. Not bothering to knock, he burst inside.

It was empty.

McCoy took a step forward, keeping quiet. The computer was turned off, but still warm, he realized as he pressed a hand to it. He didn't expect to find any fingerprints, however. In the age of voice technology, you didn't need to touch a computer anymore to give it commands.

Warily, he eyed the other door that he had come through just that morning. The whole place seemed eerily silent. One step, and then another. Taking a breath, he walked briskly through, the sensor opening the door.

The lab beyond was empty.

McCoy peered around, but being a lesser-used facility it had been shut down for the night. Liking the overall situation less and less, he backed out of the lab.

After the doors had closed, two beings breathed a sigh of relief.


Spock was preparing for an evening's meditation when his door buzzed. This was unusual. He rarely had late-hour visitors. Curious (but denying that he felt as such) he walked over and permitted the door to open.

Dr. M'Benga and Nurse Chapel were on the other side.

"Mr. Spock, can we have a private word with you?" M'Benga said in a low voice. There was a sense of urgency about them.

"You may," Spock said, stepping aside to let them in. The doors shut behind them. Spock folded his hands behind his back.

"Mr. Spock, it's about Scott's condition," Nurse Chapel began.

"Is he relapsing?" he inquired.

"No," M'Began assured him. "No, he's expected to make a complete recovery, provided he sticks to that bed rest." The doctor frowned. "It's just that, the surgery was… odd."

"Odd?" Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Spock, when we first arrived, Mr. Scott was having difficulty breathing, losing consciousness, and most of all, clutching his midriff. Preliminary scans showed it was something abdominal," Chapel explained. "That had gotten into the bloodstream. When we got him back to Sickbay where Dr. Carter had been prepping for surgery, he did it… differently."

Something in the way she said made Spock note that the 'difference' was more than just one doctor's style of operating. "Go on."

"Scans showed that a foreign substance, as yet unidentified, had gotten into his bloodstream and was causing the unconsciousness and respiratory problems," M'Benga took over. "With this information, we should be looking at something he ate or otherwise ingested to fix the problem."

Logical, Spock thought.

"However, when we started working, Dr. Carter was checking out the esophagus and brain first."

"Even after we informed him of the symptoms and our opinions," Chapel added.

"He waited to actually fix the problem, Mr. Spock," M'Benga said.

Spock thought briefly. "Could it be he was simply being thorough?"

Chapel hesitated, but shook her head. "I don't think so, Spock. Because here's the weird thing: the equipment needed to pump Scotty's system was already out. The reason M'Benga and I rushed to scene was because Carter was preparing for surgery. Mr. Spock, how did he know that we would need a particular type of surgery done before any information about Scotty's condition came in?"

Both of Spock's eyebrows went up as he saw what they were saying. "I see," he said quietly. "And, the other examinations?"

"Honestly, Mr. Spock," M'Benga said. "I feel that those were, well, almost stalling tactics. He scanned the brain and throat and tried a few other tests instead of the most likely course of action- which would be to identify the substance and flush it out. Why wait to do that? Like Chapel said, he already had the tools out to do it."

Spock considered all of this. On the one hand, he trusted Chapel's and M'Benga's inputs explicitly. On the other, there was nowhere on Carter's record that would imply him to be incompetent. Yet he didn't seem like the type of person to be deliberately malicious.

He noticed the two medical personal exchanging glances.

"There's one more thing, Mr. Spock," Chapel said hesitantly. He waited for her to continue.

"We actually know what that 'foreign substance' is." She paused.

"It was Axolin," M'Benga said quietly.

Spock raised his eyebrows even further. Mr. Scott had been poisoned.


Oh no! What terribleness is this!? What will happen next? Please review and stay tuned!