McCoy was hot on Jim's heels the entire way down the hall and into the small medical ward. Uhura followed behind them, less agitated but no less concerned. (To Jim's human eyes the large room looked nothing like a medbay, but the Pilot recognized various pieces of equipment and their purposes.)

"You're nuts if you think I'm just gonna let you do this."

"I wouldn't even consider it if we had any other options, but we don't. This ship is our only way out of here, and I'm the only one who can fly it."

"Spock and their people are working on something, why not wait until we hear back?"

"We may not hear back before what's left of our way out closes. The Assistant's math agrees with Spock and Chekov's-once the path closes, there's not going to be a way out for at least a few hundred years."

McCoy's voice grew louder. "Surely that engineer can reprogram their AI-"

"You heard the General; the AI's not going to cut it."

"Then we'll think of something else, point is-"

"Bones, this is our best way out."

"Goddamnit I am not letting you go through that again!" McCoy was shouting by the time he was done. Not for nothing was Jim good friends with Spock, though; he stayed calm in the face of the outburst. McCoy stared at him, desperate and angry, and when it became clear Jim wouldn't back down, he swore and stormed out of the room.

Jim sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

Uhura said, "Are you sure this is the only way, and it's not just you needing to confront it?"

He gave her a wry look for sounding like Spock, which she accepted with equanimity. "Maybe that's part of it, but it's not the only part, and definitely not the larger part. This ship can get through. It's the only way where we all make it out safe."

"Except maybe for you." He looked away, unable to meet the look in her eyes, and she sighed. "When are you going to stop pretending that doing this kind of thing doesn't affect other people?"

"I know it does, Uhura, just...if it has to be someone, it should be me."

"Why?"

Of the hundreds of responses he had ready for that, the one he said was, "Because I'm the captain, and that makes it my responsibility."

"And who takes responsibility for what happens to you?" He blew out a breath and looked away, shrugging, and she shook her head. "Your friends, Kirk. But only if you let us."

He nodded, because he wasn't sure what to say, and was pretty sure if he didn't think it through he'd fuck it up. She watched him, waiting, and finally he said, "I'm gonna walk around a bit."

"Okay."

At least she didn't look disappointed in him. He stopped on his way out the door and glanced back at her. "Thanks."

She answered that with a small smile, which he returned, and then he left.

He wandered the ship for close to an hour, teetering on the edge of becoming lost in his own head. He thought he could feel it coming on, and would stop to touch some part of the ship, like physical contact would remind him of the body that was his and where it was standing. He wound up doing a circuit and found himself back at the bridge, where Uhura was working on the communications array and the General and the Assistant were conversing on some matter. McCoy wasn't around, which would have worried him except the path to the lift and from there to the hangar was easy enough to follow.

The General and the Assistant looked at him when he came in and sat down, then went back to their discussion. He took a seat at one of the engineering stations, and Uhura came to sit next to him. They exchanged a look, and she rubbed one of his arms.

Xorila came into the room. "Pilot."

Everyone turned to look at her. Her eyes flicked between Jim and Uhura, betraying extreme nervousness. "It is ready."

The suit was different than his previous one; the fine links were dark black-blue, and of a heavier material. Xorila explained that was due to a different pattern of connections, which in turn required a different material to form the microfilaments. (Kevin had tried to show him, once, how he thought the metallic threads worked, and Jim had wisely chosen to forgo any visuals.)

Xorila and Uhura helped him slip it on, and he was surprised to find it was room temperature, almost warm, and not cold like he'd expected. Xorila checked the fit, making sure it was particularly snug along his back. As she tugged here and there, he asked, "What did you mean when you told the General the Pilot hadn't been excised?"

Xorila looked up from her work and fidgeted. "Normally, when an adult is placed into service on a ship, their consciousness is sequestered to make room for the Pilot. When their service is complete, the Pilot is removed, and the adult's self is returned to the proper place."

Something inside of him shrank back in horror. "Removed." He knew the loathing that filled his voice wasn't just his own.

"You just get rid of it?" Uhura asked, looking aghast.

Xorila nodded, and Jim swallowed. He thought she didn't look too happy to report any of this. "So what's happening to me is what happens when you don't excise the Pilot?"

She hesitated, giving him what he knew was a wary look. "I am uncertain. I have never known it to not be performed." Her nerve bundles shivered. "The Pilot remains within you, functional, to all appearances. And yet you are yourself as well, and also functional."

Jim muttered, "That's debatable," and rubbed his eyes. "Can you do it now?" He hated to even ask (or maybe that was the Pilot, hating him for asking).

"Unlikely. By now the Pilot will have shared your mindspace and grown into it. Your experiences and memories since the end of your service are its as well. Any attempt to separate you would do far more harm than good."

"Trust me, it's not good right now."

"It would be worse were we to attempt an excision."

"So he's stuck like this?" Uhura looked and sounded angry.

Xorila considered the question. "The Shadow Upon the Sand has a full Engineering research facility. If you have crew who are of a similar technological skill level as myself, we may be able to work together to find a solution."

That mollified Uhura somewhat. She looked at him, and he swallowed. It wouldn't be the first time he'd pinned his hopes on Spock and Kevin. "I have the best engineers and scientists in the Federation on my ship."

Xorila looked satisfied. "The general will be greatly in your debt for this. Convincing him that we should provide our help will be a small matter."

Uhura relaxed, and Jim nodded and shook himself out. "Okay." He licked his lips. "What's, ah, gonna happen when you put me in there?"

Xorila was some time in answering. "The Pilot will wish to regain control. You must not allow this. You must work with it as an equal."

"And if I can't?"

She didn't answer, though she didn't really need to. Her posture spoke volumes. He looked askance at Uhura. She started to say something, stopped, and shook her head; the smile she wore was full of regret. He huffed a helpless laugh in reply, then nodded at Xorila. "Got it."

As she lead them to the antechamber of the pilothouse, McCoy came to walk alongside him. Uhura flashed the doctor a knowing smile and dropped back.

"This is still insanity, you know," McCoy informed him. "And when Spock finds out, he's gonna be pissed. Still, I can't let you go through it without at least being here to say 'I told you so' if it blows up in our faces."

Jim thanked McCoy for being there with a smile that didn't hide his unease. "I have it on good authority that insanity is my middle name."

McCoy grunted, then looked over the suit with a critical eye. "How's it feel?"

"Weird." They'd arrived at the antechamber door. Xorila entered her code into the panel beside it, and the door slid open with a soft thump. She went in, but Jim stood rooted in place, scared out of his mind for a handful of seconds.

His voice low, McCoy asked, "Hey, you okay?"

Jim swallowed. It was entirely possible he might go in there and never come back out. "Yeah, just...I'm really glad you and Uhura are here."

Xorila stood inside the antechamber, watching them. McCoy said, "You don't have to do this."

He thought of the nightmares and the struggle to know what was him and what wasn't, and above all else them growing old and dying on a cold gray rock, and said, "Yeah, I do."

McCoy's expression hardened. "We didn't lose you last time and we won't this time. It's that simple."

Jim nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped into the room. Inside of it was a small, silvery green pod not unlike the one he'd laid in on the Dancer. When Xorila touched a spot on its surface, Praxidi script raced over the top, glowing red and blue, and it split open. The interior was the same as before, padded with a black, soft, foam-like material.

McCoy and Xorila helped him get settled in it; it was quite comfortable, really.

He took a deep breath and let it out, then nodded at Xorila. She tapped a few keys on the pod's surface, and the lid closed over him.

He had to work to keep from panicking as the close darkness of the pod's interior clung to him. He heard the metallic clink of the snakechains attaching to the suit, then a slight tingle all along his head, neck, and back as the filaments went in. A shiver raced down his spine, and the clinging black cocoon evaporated into something else completely.