"Captain's log, stardate 3142.7. The Enterprise has been assigned routine charting of quadrant two sectors three through thirty-four; a task without a great deal of variety, but one frequently allocated to starships. Sector seven has thus far been found to contain five solar systems, one of which orbits a class G star with a total of three planets. One of those is a planetoid capable of sustaining life, although it registers no life form readings on ship's sensors. First Officer Spock has assigned it the numerical title M-9704, and mapped it as a class M planetoid with habitation as yet unverified. Our further investigation is pending."

Kirk went down with the landing party to oversee the geological sampling and analysis of M-9704. His presence on the surface was by no means a necessity, but the change of scenery, grim as it was, was welcome nonetheless. The planetoid had an unpleasantly thin atmosphere, and the soil was dull red, stony and dust-swept. The place reminded Kirk vaguely of a barren, lifeless Vulcan, with rocks and caverns its predominant terrain and a cloudless, suppressing red sky stretching high overhead.

Geologist Wordell came to Kirk with the preliminary tricorder readings not long ofter they had beamed down. "We're reading rich mineral deposits, Captain," he said. "An abundance of heavy elements; iron ore, nickel, miles of natural oil deposits and coal beds."

Kirk nodded. "But no life, Mr. Wordell."

"No sir. No animal life, no plant life. Not even a simple fern."

A brief commotion came from the members the landing party, and Kirk looked up. Spock was headed his direction, and behind him the others were spreading out, their instruments leveled at the ground beneath them.

"What is it, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan peered down at the tricorder still whirring in his hand, then shut it off and looked back to Kirk "Ruins, Captain. Fragments of apparent structures, buried deep beneath the planet's surface. Immensely old, estimated on the order of two to three hundred thousand years." "How far below the surface?"

The tricorder whirred again. "Three hundred four point nine seven meters."

Kirk looked out at the emptiness. 'Three hundred thousand years," he echoed.

"Excavation on our part would appear impractical," Spock went on. "The ruins are far too deep and we are ill-equipped for proper archaeological procedures."

"Log it, Mr. Spock. Have Uhura notify Starfleet. Recommend a team of archaeologists be dispatched for detailed excavation and study."

Spock nodded and was promptly gone again.

Wordell watched his associates work with renewed interest. "A race of people dead 300,000 years," he said incredulously.

Kirk shared in the fascination of it all. "It makes you wonder who they were, what they were like, and most of all, what happened to them." He began to walk as he spoke, leaving the analysis team behind, and Wordell followed for a distance, exchanging observations and theories along the way. Kirk halted again at the base of an overhang where the rock-strewn mouth of a cavern opened into the mountainside. Removing his communicator, he flipped it open and said, "Kirk to landing party."

In a moment a voice said, "Spock here."

"Let's wind up the reports, Spock. We have deadlines to meet."

"Analysis is 93% completed, Captain."

"Good. Schedule the beam-up for oh-nine-hundred. Kirk out."

"Sir?" Wordell was standing just inside the cave's mouth, staring into the opening.

Kirk went to him. "What is it?"

"There, sir. On the wall just inside. Can you see it?"

"See what?" Kirk squinted into the darkness, then took a few steps closer to it. On the rough surface of the cavern wall was the age-worn etching of a symbol: three lines forming a triangle and a wobbly circle in its center.

Wordell ventured a few steps further in and said "Captain?"

Kirk studied the symbol for a long moment, then proceeded to Wordell's position and stopped again. Where the tunnel-like walls of the cave seemed to converge to a single point several feet beyond them, there was a distinct glowing red light and the echoing sound of dripping moisture.

Kirk advanced cautiously down the passageway with Wordell close behind him. The echoes grew louder, the light brighter as they neared, until finally they reached the opening and stepped through it into an immense cavern flooded with red-hued light from an opening high overhead. It was a scene out of some fantasy land. Crystalline formations glittered in every direction. Stalagmites loomed up from the floor toward the stalactites stretching down to meet them, and in the center of it all lay a wide pool of water, blood-red in the light, mirroring the fairy-like formations of the cave in its glassy, motionless surface. Spanned just above this was a natural bridge, also dripping with stalactites which, reflected in the pool, gave the scene the ominous look of monstrous jaws baring their needle-sharp teeth to some unknown enemy.

Kirk began circling the pool, examining the periphery as he went. Wordell went in the opposite direction, assuming that somewhere on the other side of the macabre bridge, the two of them would most likely meet again.

The air was heavy with a pungent, sulphurous odor and the temperature here was slightly cooler than on the outside. Kirk had not gone far when something odd in the shape of the rock formations caught his eye. There was a room-sized impression in the cavern wall, shallow but deep enough to harbor a number of odd-shaped stones, set in a deliberate semi-circle; and at the center, a single, flat-topped boulder. An altar? Or some sort of podium, perhaps? The curiosity was maddening. He reached out a hand to touch the center stone and stroked the rough, uneven surface thoughtfully. Wordell should see this, he thought, and was about to pull out his communicator when the entire cavern around him suddenly went suddenly dim and a tingling wave of something cold and vaguely terrifying swept over him.

Spinning, he grabbed at the altar-like stone for support, and shook his head to try and clear away the dizziness. The red-tinted cavern was swimming at crazy, reeling angles, and the sensation of incredible cold came flooding in on him like icy water on a sultry day. Voices came rushing at him out of nowhere; hoarse, biting whispers speaking words he didn't understand, and somewhere through it all was a voice he recognized. Someone called his name. Then hands grabbed him and a face was in front of him. Wordell's face.

"Captain?"

His hands were pulled up off the stone and immediately the chill had vanished and the room was stable again. Wordell let go of his hands, staring at him questioningly.

"Captain?" he said again.

Kirk put a hand to his head, then rubbed his eyes.

"Are you all right? Sir?"

"Yes, I'm all right. What the devil happened?"

"I don't know, sir. I went all the way around the pool. I was just thinking I should have met you when I saw you standing there. You didn't look well, sir. You didn't even seem to hear me until I..."

"Until you what?"

"I pulled you away from this thing." Wordell reached out for the altar stone and Kirk grabbed his arm.

"Don't touch it," he said earnestly, and Wordell dropped his hand.

"What is it, sir?"

"How should I know?" Kirk felt uncommonly short-tempered. "We have things to do, Mr. Wordell. I suggest we get back to them."

"Aye sir."

Kirk started off, but Wordell lingered to scan the wall with his tricorder. Kirk turned back and his voice was reprimanding when he spoke. "Mr. Wordell!"

The geologist snapped off the tricorder. "Coming sir."

* * *

The gym and recreation areas aboard the Enterprise were well-equipped for most any form of physical exercise, and were a virtual necessity for a crew confined to the ship for long months at a time. Kirk frequently enjoyed work-outs there, and had spent a profitable hour-and-a-half on the wrestling mat after returning from M-9704. It was a good way to work off frustrations.

Dr. McCoy met him on the way back to his quarters with an ornate brandy decanter in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Got a minute?" he asked, falling into step.

Kirk smiled. "All the minutes you need, Bones." He tapped the decanter. "What's that? A bribe?'"

"No, not exactly." They arrived at the captain's quarters, and went in. McCoy sat the decanter and glasses on the table and poured. "Just a little something to stimulate the conversation."

Kirk sat down and accepted the proffered glass of brandy. "Do I sense another philosophical deluge coming on?"

"From me?" McCoy looked incredulous. "Perish the thought." He lifted his glass. "Bottoms up."

Kirk replaced his empty glass on the table and took a deep breath. "Okay, Bones. What's on your mind?"

"What's your hurry? And why does anything have to be on my mind? Here, have another one."

"No thanks."

"Why not?"

"It's the duty of the ship's surgeon," Kirk told him, "to ensure the health and safety of the crew, including the captain. But since when does that include getting him plastered?"

McCoy chuckled. "All right. I'll lay it on the line then. I want you to report for a full physical first thing tomorrow morning."

"...What for?"

"Routine check-up."

"I'm not due for another three months."

"It is also the prerogative of the ship's surgeon to summon any and all personnel for medical examination -- including the captain -- whenever he may deem it necessary."

Kirk said nothing, but his expression was asking the obvious question.

McCoy said, "Mr. Wordell said you didn't seem to be feeling well back on the planetoid."

"A touch of fatigue. I'm all right."

"I can believe it. No harm in making sure, is there?" There was a pause, then McCoy said, "How was the work-out?"

"Never better."

"That's good. No aches in the old muscles?"

"None at all. And they can still pull the same weight they used to back at the Academy. Maybe more." He thought for a moment, then said, "Mitchell and I used to bet one another..." He trailed off and was silent again. A moment later he said, "You know that was the only time I ever put one over on Finnegan."

"Finnegan..." Mccoy echoed. "Oh yes, Finnegan. I remember."

Kirk was smiling nostalgically. "Gary Mitchell and I bet Finnegan he couldn't lift the same amount of lead-weight I could three feet off the ground. But we replaced the lead-weights with tungsten, then rigged the pulley with a slip switch so I could lift it, but no matter how hard Finnegan tried..." He laughed again and was about to go on when the high-pitched whistle of the intercom sounded. He leaned forward and tripped it. "Kirk here."

Chekov's voice said, "Mapping of star sector seven has been completed, Captain."

"Acknowledged, Mr. Chekov. Proceed to sector eight."

"Aye aye sir."

McCoy rose as Kirk closed the channel. "I'll leave you to your rest, Jim. Just don't forget your appointment -- oh-six-hundred, bright and early."

"I'll be there." The door whisked open and slid shut again after McCoy had gone.

Kirk had never been given to nightmares, but his sleep that night was plagued by images he had never seen before and he awoke several times with strange voices ringing in his ears. Most disturbing of all was the fact that the moment he awoke, all memory of the images would fade and he was left with the bewildering knowledge that he had dreamed of something and could not remember what it had been.

The intercom's shrill voice roused him from another dream and he went sleepily across the room to answer it. "Yes?"

Yeoman Janice Rand's cheerful voice said, "You're due in sickbay at oh-six-hundred, Captain. Dr. McCoy said to wake you."

Kirk let go of a sigh. He said, "Thank you, Yeoman," and snapped the switch off again.

McCoy's examination went just as Kirk had expected it to; results all a degree above normal efficiency. His physical condition was essentially perfect. No cause for alarm.

Time to go to work.

He found the bridge crew engaged in the same routine operations they had been for the past solid month: pinpointing, spectrographing, photographing and star-charting; the same droll process through and through again. Chekov's board showed that they were in sector eleven; nearly through it.

"Mr. Sulu, you may proceed to sector twelve at will."

The helmsman started to say, "Aye-aye sir," stopped himself and turned to look at Kirk. "Uh, Captain, Starfleet requested we avoid that sector. They were picking up heavy cosmic storms from that area."

Kirk kicked himself mentally. "Yes, of course. Must have slipped my mind. Sector thirteen then. Continue charting."

"Aye sir."

From the sensor station, Spock began reading numbers off the small overhead screen. "Planetary systems evident around stars S-7O, 209 and 483," he said. "None habitable by life as we know it."

"As we know it," Kirk repeated thoughtfully.

"Sir?" Spock turned to look at him.

"Nothing."

Yeoman Rand came out of the turbolift armed with a tray full of steaming coffee cups. Kirk accepted one gratefully, wishing the stuff still contained the caffeine that historians reported it once had. He felt abnormally drowsy and would have given a great deal just to be able to go back to bed.

Some time later, he got up to stretch his legs, circled the bridge and paused to peruse Sulu's instrument board. He'd been about to ask for a report on the warp drive efficiency when that odd sensation of cold returned and the drowsiness became suddenly acute. He heard Sulu shout something as he started to fall, caught the edge of the panel and finally straightened again.

Spock hit the intercom button on the captain's chair. "Dr. McCoy to the bridge."

Kirk glanced at him, punched an equivalent tab at the helm station and said, "Belay that order. I'm all right." He looked at Spock again and his expression was one of unsheathed annoyance.

Spock was returning a skeptical stare. "Captain, are you quite certain...?"

Kirk cut him off. "I said I was all right, Spock." There was a moment's awkward silence on the bridge until Kirk said, "I'll be in my quarters," and was gone through the turbolift.

Spock tripped the intercom again. "Bridge to Dr. McCoy."

"McCoy here."

"Doctor, the Captain is returning to his quarters. I would suggest you look in on him there."

"Why? Did he ask me to?"

"It is my suggestion, Doctor. A moment ago he nearly lost consciousness on the bridge. He seems to be unduly fatigued. He may require medical attention."

"Will do, Mr. Spock. Sickbay out."

* * *

McCoy found Kirk pacing the floor impatiently, and in none too good a mood for receiving visitors.

"I told Spock I was all right," he snapped when McCoy entered,

The doctor nodded. "You told me the same thing. And you were wrong both times." "What?"

"In perfect physical condition you may be, Jim. But mentally, you're showing signs of undue fatigue and irritability, complicated by a physical weariness that seems to come and go without warning. Spock says you almost passed out on the bridge a few minutes ago."

"You know, it'd be a lot easier to get some decent rest around here if everyone weren't so damned concerned about my state of health!" Kirk paused, taking the anger out of his voice, then went on levelly, "What do I have to do to convince you there's nothing wrong with me? Run laps? Turn cartwheels? Recite logarithms?"

"No. Just stay here and rest. Don't go back to the bridge. Believe it or not, they can do just fine without you for a while." He stood there a moment longer, then was quickly gone.

Kirk stared after him for several moments. "They can do without you," he said weakly. "Without you... Without you!" He shouted the words at the walls around him -- at the Enterprise. "What do _I_ do without _you??_ They can't take _you_ away from me!"

The cold came sweeping in again, a frigid, icy emptiness that made the bulkheads weave and the deck buckle giddily. The Enterprise seemed to melt away, and his cabin became the crimson rock walls of the cavern with its glassy, blood-red pool, an image that continued to ripple and change dizzily with every movement he made.

Then the voices came again. A rush of mad whispers and hoarse, meaningless cries. He reached out to grasp at the first thing he could find, and the image of the cavern went spinning. For a fleeting moment he felt the solid bulk of metal and saw the comfortingly familiar wall of his cabin aboard the Enterprise. But it was quickly gone again, replaced by the swimming tableau of a mass of dark, hungry faces; lean, cadaverous faces with clenched mouths and empty stares. They were like skeletons, watching him with haunted, death-filled eyes. Distantly, he felt the solidity of metal at his fingertips and with all the strength he could summon, he forced himself to press against it. The faces blurred and vanished into obscurity, but the voices became a roar of sound washing over him again like some wild ocean current; impossible to understand, but just as impossible to shut out again.

Then abruptly, they were shattered and gone. Spock's voice was saying, "Captain? Jim?" A hand was grasping his arm. Blearily, he opened his eyes, forced them to focus on Spock, who was saying, "Captain, can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you." His voice was tight, strained. "What do you want, Spock?"

The first officer was still regarding him skeptically. "I..." He paused. "I was concerned--"

"For my health, Mr. Spock I know. Well you can stop being so concerned. All of you. Nothing's wrong."

"Dr. McCoy would tend to disagree. And he has further stated that the very basis for improvement in cases such as yours is your own admission that you are ill. I submit that it is illogical to deny-"

"If you're implying that this imaginary illness leaves me unfit for command of the Enterprise simply because I deny that it exists, forget it!" Kirk was shouting in spite of himself. "I won't be intimidated into stepping down for you because of a contrived illness -- contrived by what is beginning to look very much like a conspiracy. And conspiracy, Mr. Spock, is grounds for general court martial. Or have you forgotten that?"

Spock's expression was the nearest thing to dismay any Vulcan could have registered. "Captain, I assure you that--"

"Don't assure me anything, Spock. Just do me the honor of staying out of my sight!"

The look of initial dismay long since suppressed, Spock showed no visible reaction to this outburst. "Very well," he said evenly, "I will leave you."

Something vaguely akin to a sense of guilt hit Kirk in the face like a cold shower. He dropped into a chair as Soock reached the door, threw out a hand and said, "Spock..."

The Vulcan turned back.

"Don't go."

"Captain, I do have duties to perform. If you will-"

"Spock, look..." He halted, not at all certain where the words were coming from. "I didn't mean that. Maybe you were right. Maybe something is..." He paused again and the angry edge returned. 'Then again maybe nothing's wrong at all." He got up and paced across the room. "Maybe I'm just beginning to realize what a farce all this really is."

"Jim..."

Kirk turned on him. "I remember once you said that when you felt friendship for me, you were ashamed. Do you remember that?"

Spock remembered all too painfully well, but did not say so.

"I thought I knew why," Kirk went on brokenly. "But I was wrong. I thought it was you... you because of... But it wasn't that at all. It was me, wasn't it? Me, all along. And you all knew it. All of you..."

Spock was trying desperately to make sense of the deluge, but he was not succeeding. "Jim," he said again.

Kirk never heard him. "I thought," he said weakly, "that you at least would understand. You know. You know what it's like to be alone. You know what it's like to be the only one. You could never..."

The intercom broke into his sentence and he stared at it vacantly until it had whistled for the third time. When he finally pressed the stud, McCoy came on visual. "I thought I told you to get some rest."

"An excellent recommendation," Spock said quietly.

McCoy heard him. "And one I prescribe universally," he said grumpily. "Spock, get out of there."

"Bones, I'm beginning to think I should've hired a nursemaid."

"You didn't have to. Starfleet already has. Get some rest." The screen went blank abruptly and in the same instant Kirk heard the door whisper as Spock left the room. He stood motionless for several moments, then turned and went out the door himself.

* * *

The observation deck was dim and deserted. Watching the stars was a pastime that quickly lost its fascination aboard a starship. Kirk frequently found it the perfect place for a few moments of solitude; one of the few areas on board where you could truly be alone... with only the stars looking back at you. The cold, impassive stars. They were like so many people. No matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, you could never touch them.

For what seemed an eternity he watched them move slowly by. Then, out of nowhere, the chill was there, welling up from inside him, making the stars swim and melt away until he saw only the faces, the same lifeless, hungry faces. And then there was nothing but death; slow, horrible widespread death in vision upon vision until at last all he saw was the wasteland of some hideous devastation. The death was everywhere and everything and only he remained to look at it... He was alone. Terribly, mercilessly, totally alone.

* * *

In the briefing room of the Enterprise, Spock, McCoy and Geologist Wordell had gathered to view the tricorder tapes Wordell had made in the cavern on M-9704. Spock asked the geologist a number of questions pertinent to the nature of Kirk's actions just after the incident at the stone formation. Wordell recapped all that had occurred three times through, and Spock dismissed him afterward.

McCoy was baffled by the nature of the first officer's questions. "I take it you think something happened to him down on that planetoid."

"A theory," Spock said distantly. "Nothing concrete. If we are to be certain we must obtain more substantial proof."

"Proof of _what_, Spock?"

"I cannot specify what I merely suspect, Doctor. Perhaps if we were to return to the planetoid..."

"And look for what? You need Starfleet clearance to turn this ship around, Spock. Not to mention the permission of said ship's commanding officer."

"Neither of which is a totally insurmountable problem, Doctor. I have already requested Starfleet sanction to reverse our course and return to M-9704. It may be the solution we are seeking."

"For whom? For Jim? I don't see how. This illness he's experiencing looks strictly emotional to me, Spock. That planetoid had nothing to do with it."

"That was nevertheless where the first manifestation took place. Since then a definite pattern of behavior -- irrational though it may be -- has been developing."

"Extreme fatigue, irritability, signs of persecution complex," McCoy said. "I've seen it, Spock, but it comes and goes like the tide. Something is there but the next minute it's gone again. It's like some sort of temporary schizophrenia."

"Precisely." Spock sat forward. "As if he were two separate entities rather than one."

McCoy frowned, not liking the sound of that. "What are you getting at?"

"He behaves as though his emotional loyalties were divided in half. Each at war with the other."

"So you're saying that in an effort to console them both, he chooses to persecute himself, to believe that he's both useless and alone."

"And that the one thing he fears most may happen to him."

"Losing command of the Enterprise," McCoy said. "For which he is most likely to blame you."

"Indeed. I believe-"

The ship's alarm went off at that moment -- an intruder alert -- and Spock was on top of the intercom switch in seconds.

"...reports from engineering, observation deck," Sulu's voice said. "The security guard was knocked unconscious, and a phaser was taken. Reports confirm the attacker was Captain Kirk, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu." Spock touched the inter-ship control. "Attention all personnel," he said. "You will locate and confine Captain Kirk at once; he is delirious and armed. Repeat, he is armed. You will proceed with all available caution; report any and all sightings to me immediately."

After leaving the briefing room, Spock went to his quarters with the initial intention of departing again for the bridge immediately. But the moment he entered he was acutely aware that some one else was present there. A heartbeat later Kirk appeared from behind the partition, looking entirely unlike himself with a phaser held unsteadily in his hand. Still more unsettling was the realization that the weapon was set to kill.

"You have command of the ship." The voice no longer even resembled Kirk's. "You will order it to reverse its course. You will return us to Thanos."

"Thanos," Spock repeated. "The planetoid? What is there?"

"We had life there, once. We must return. You must take us there." He lifted the phaser a few inches.

Spock said carefully, "We shall reverse course the moment we are granted permission to do so." He took a cautious step nearer. "Why must you return to Thanos?"

Kirk did not answer. He backed away as Spock came near, but was soon against the wall. He looked more frightened than menacing, and made no move to fire.

Spock reached steadily out to grasp the phaser, pulling it swiftly and easily away. Kirk made a quick, nervous lunge at him, was promptly grasped by the shoulder nerve, and folded neatly to the floor.

* * *

McCoy's medical scanner pulsed normally, its indicators all showing that except for his state of unconsciousness, Captain Kirk was still in the best of physical health. Spock and McCoy stood just across the room from the medical cot where Kirk lay.

"There's still nothing physically wrong with him," McCoy was insisting.

"No," Spock agreed. "No... I am as yet at a loss to understand."

Lt. Uhura's voice came over the ship's intercom, "Bridge to Mr. Spock."

"Spock here."

"Message reply from Starfleet Command has been received, sir."

"Read it, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir. Message reads, 'SFC to Commander Spock aboard the USS Enterprise. Permission to reverse course is hereby denied. You are ordered to proceed at once to Star Base 37 where Captain Kirk may be administered further medical treatment. Signed, Admiral Komack, Starfleet Command.' Shall I repeat, sir?"

"Negative, Lieutenant. Once is quite sufficient."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Well, what did you expect?"

"I expect nothing, Doctor. I deal with situations as they occur."

"Mind if I ask how you plan to deal with this one?"

The Vulcan glanced thoughtfully at Kirk. "Perhaps providing Starfleet with a more detailed explanation--"

"Spock, I don't think you can convince Starfleet that returning to that planetoid is necessary. In fact, you haven't even convinced me of it yet."

Seconds later a call from engineering summoned McCoy, and the doctor departed with his medical kit in tow.

Spock, left alone in the sickbay, stepped closer to the cot and stared down at Kirk. The scanner overhead throbbed with its familiar regularity every few seconds, the triangular indicators hovering mid-chart except for consciousness, which rested ostentatiously at zero.

With the fingers of one hand spread evenly apart, Spock moved to the side of the bed. Carefully, he placed his fingertips on Kirk's forehead, closed his eyes, and waited...

* * *

Admiral Komack did not often receive unscheduled messages from the Enterprise, but two in the same day was a rarity indeed. The second came through on a visual priority channel, and when he arrived in his office, the screen was glowing dimly with the image of the Enterprise bridge. In a moment the picture stabilized and he recognized First Officer Spock at the command post.

"Komack speaking," he said. "Go ahead, Enterprise."

Commander Spock here." The view cut to a close-up, and Spock said, "Sir, I must request retraction of order to proceed to Star Base 37. It is imperative that we reverse course."

'I thought I made that clear, Commander Spock. If you have no additional facts to unveil, then it remains obvious that facilities on Star Base 37 are more than adequate to deal with Captain Kirk's illness."

"Sir, Captain Kirk is not physically ill. He has, rather, been exhibiting recognizable signs of possession by a life entity. My own mind link with him has now confirmed that suspicion. The state of his mental health -- perhaps of his life -- depends on his return to planetoid M-9704."

Komack looked dubious. "Are you suggesting that this 'entity' came from there?"

"I am."

"Commander, even if the planetoid is inhabited by some heretofore unknown, possibly dangerous life form, I fail to see what good can come of returning there."

"I cannot fully explain the necessity of it, sir. Yet I do know that it _is_ necessary. A star base is not equipped to deal with the problem"

"You were ordered to report to Star Base 37 in order to get proper medical assistance for Kirk. You are also carrying the essential drugs to deal with a minor epidemic of suspected Lumerian meningitis that may be breaking out there." Komack shook his head. "I can't risk the loss of an entire star base on your theories, Commander Spock, however credible they may be. The facilities at Star Base 37 are more than sufficient. In any case, they will have to suffice. Your presence there is an established necessity. Starfleet out."

On the bridge of the Enterprise, the viewscreen image of Admiral Komack faded away and was promptly replaced by a field of stars. McCoy, who had witnessed the confrontation from a position near the turbolift, stepped down to approach Spock, wearing a perplexed expression.

"Are you saying you actually established a mind link with an alien entity through Captain Kirk???"

Spock said tonelessly, "It calls itself Tsyrus, one of the race of Fahn on a world once known as Thanos. It is the sole surviving member of a civilization that thrived in excess of 300,000 years ago."

"But why the Captain? How?"

"'I do not have all the answers, Doctor, any more than I can understand why returning to the planetoid -- to Thanos -- is so vital. Yet I know that it is. If this is permitted to go on..."

McCoy interrupted, half talking to himself, "How in heaven could you prove a thing like that to Starfleet?"

"Surely the proof is apparent, Doctor. Everything he has said and done has evidenced it; pathos, shortness of temper, fatigue, feelings of persecution, despondency, fear, loneliness. Emotional reactions perhaps easily attributed to the only remaining member of a dead race."

"Good Lord..."

"In essence, the entity is formless, more spiritual than physical. That is apparently why our sensors failed to record it. Yet it is hardly immortal. One predominant factor perseveres above all else in Tsyrus' thoughts... Death. By degrees, slowly but certainly, Doctor, he is dying."

"And what happens to the Captain? What happens to Jim?"

"We cannot-" Spock's answer was cut off by the squeal of the intercom and the frantic voice of Nurse Chapel.

"Mr. Spock, the Captain is gone! He hit an orderly in the ward, sir--"

"How long ago, Miss Chapel?"

"Five minutes, maybe more."

Spock said to Sulu, "Notify all decks to report-"

"Mr. Spock," Uhura cut in, "Engineering reports Captain Kirk has been sighted... in the hangar, sir. They--"' She interrupted herself, "Sir, my instruments indicate bay doors are coming open."

"Close--" Spock stopped the order in mid-sentence. "No," he said. "No, let them remain open, Lieutenant."

"Shuttle craft Columbus is on the turntable," Uhura reported. "Engineering says they can still stop take off, Mr. Spock."

"Negative, Lieutenant. Under no circumstances interfere."

Minutes later, Uhura removed her communicator earpiece and said, "Shuttle craft away, sir."

"Heading, Mr. Chekov?"

"One thirteen mark seven, sir," the navigator answered. "Directly on course for M-9704."

McCoy said discreetly, "Just what you wanted."

Spock ignored him. "Set course to pursue it, Ensign. Mr. Sulu, you will disengage warp drive and follow at sublight speed. We will pursue the Columbus, but we will not overtake it. Is that clear?"

Sulu smiled appreciatively, "It is, sir."

The Enterprise throbbed powerfully as it turned to face the fleeing shuttle craft. McCoy watched the stars moving sideways on the screen, then said, "Spock, I hope to heaven you know what you're doing. If Starfleet--"

"I shall offer my justifications to Starfleet when the Captain has been retrieved. In the interim, Doctor, I suggest-"

"No. Let me make the suggestion this time."' McCoy's voice was intense. "Make certain whatever you decide is the best thing for everyone concerned, Spock. Especially for Jim."

"That is always my intention, Doctor."

"Then here's something else to keep in mind," McCoy persisted. "Don't forget that no matter how logical the choice may seem, there's always the possibility that you could be wrong."

Spock listened to the torrent without once meeting the doctor's gaze. Then, as though McCoy had not been there at all, he said to Sulu, "'Initiate sublight speed when our rotation is completed, Lieutenant."

"Sublight three-quarter speed and dropping, sir."

"Stabilize at one-half."

"Aye, sir."

McCoy stood there an instant longer, not really expecting a response, then turned and headed for the turbolift.

At sublight speed it took several hours -- 44.6 of them -- to tail the Columbus back to planetoid M-9704. When they had established an orbit and pinpointed the shuttle craft, Spock reported alone to the transporter room for beam-down. McCoy, replete with protests, met him there. But the Vulcan flatly refused to take a landing party of any kind, nor would. he agree to the doctor's company. He beamed down alone, armed with tricorder, phaser, and the assurance that he would notify the Enterprise at fifteen minute intervals of his actions, whereabouts and state of health. No further explanations of his intentions were offered.

McCoy was perplexed by the entire setup. Obviously Spock had learned a great deal more from the mind link than he was telling. Whatever he had planned, McCoy hoped the Vulcan would be successful. He had deliberately disobeyed a direct Starfleet order, a transgression which could, if things went badly, mean the end of a promising career.

* * *

Spock found the interior of the cavern dim, stifling and acrid with the odor of sulphur. The tricorder was indicating the presence of a life form nearby and he followed it, as Wordell had done, around the rim of the crimson pool. He had no sooner reached the odd assemblage of stones than a voice from behind him echoed, "You should not have come here." The figure that confronted him was Kirk's, although the voice was not. He stood on an outcropping of rock adjoining the stone bridge just above the pool.

"Tsyrus," Spock addressed him. "Surely you know why I have come."

Tsyrus-Kirk glared down at him disdainfully. "I do not know you."

"No. The entity of Tsyrus has never known me. But the entity of James Kirk does... and quite well."

"I do not know James Kirk."

"I do not believe that is true. Was it not the teaching of the Ancients that falsehoods and deceits were the perpretrators of destruction?"

Kirk's eyes met his with a look of sudden indignation. "How do you speak of the Ancients?"

Spock said simply, "Was that not the teaching?"

Tsyrus stepped down from his platform and moved past Spock into the forum-like arrangement of stones. "The Ancients," he said distantly. "The Ancients knew long before it was to come that we would see an end. This end." He looked up at the broiling sky, visible through the opening over the bridge. "They knew _before_ the wars... If we had listened..." He stood over the nearest of the stones and reached down to touch it. "Lyrnon... there would have been no need. Lyrnon..." He was speaking to the stone, an action Spock found bewildering.

"You knew as I did... Too late to stop them. Too late to stop the death." He stopped again, looking at Spock once more. "Lrynon was the last to die." He swept a hand at the circle of stones. 'These were the last of our kind. Lyrnon, Kal, Betos, Tenysus... They have all waited here, with me, for life to come again. But Death has found them. And now only I remain. I, Tsyrus, heralder of Thanos." He laughed. "The keeper of the temple!"

Spock watched him with mounting curiosity. "Are these graves, Tsyrus?"

He laughed again, "The burial ground of hostility, my friend. This barren world is the wealth reaped of war. Once... Once it bore fruit of such splendor that even the gods would be envious! Once it had life so abundant that the very forests were ringing with the laughter of its children!" His tone changed abruptly to one of contempt. "But Thanos discovered the gratifications of cruelty and greed...of war. We found all the reasons, all the motivations for hatred, beginning with the color of our faces. We built weapons with which we destroyed our own kind. And one weapon -- one death -- was our highest achievement. We learned to destroy the source of life among our enemies -- to exterminate the plant life utterly and completely, to poison the soil so nothing would grow again. It began then. Slow, hideous, loathsome death. Plague upon plague of disease and famine. Epidemic, starvation, contamination. Horrors you could not even find in the darkness of your dreams... And still the war. The war, spreading its hideous devastation until there was nothing! Nothing but lifeless, barren rock!" He was grasping the altar stone now, stroking it in a strange, delicate way. "We learned too late that the soul may live on in the absence of the body; that life might go on without the need of physical being. They proved the words of the Ancients too late to save the rest of Thanus from extinction. But we survived. Twelve of us lived on, hiding ourselves here until Lyrnon's experiment released us from our forms and placed us within these receptacles." He indicated the stone circle. "These hollow, mechanical prisons where we have existed only to await this moment. A time when new life would find us; when we would enter those forms and make Thanos live again."

Spock listened in total fascination. "Yet you have said that the others are dead."

Tsyrus still clung to the altar with both hands. "Even in our immortality we have failed. We cannot outlive the mechanism of the receptacle.. and so there is still death. Slow and eventual, but still death. I have all but touched it." He ran his hands over the flat surface of the stone. "When I was released I'd hoped I had escaped it. I was wrong to think so. My... life... remains here. But there is one thing I may yet do for Thanos."

"What is that?"

"I will people it again. Aboard your vessel are instruments capable of making this world the paradise it once was, and the people to replenish it. I will bring them here. All of them."

"An unethical suggestion, Tsyrus. One, I might add, that you cannot accomplish."

"They know this form. They will obey it."

"Not when I tell them that you are not truly Captain Kirk. And I _will_ tell them, Tsyrus."

Tsyrus-Kirk let go of the stone and took a threatening step toward Spock. "They will do it. They must. You will not--" He stopped where he was, halted by the sudden appearance of the phaser in Spock's hand. "Do you think that will help you? You may stop me this moment, but the next--" Something clicked. Spock had imperviously moved the control on the weapon to "kill."

"You cannot possibly succeed in such an endeavor. Nor can you remain in the being of James Kirk. If you should attempt to do so you would take his life in order to preserve your own, or lose them both in trying. You will release him, Tsyrus. Release Kirk, and we will leave you."

Angrily, Tsyrus took another step. Spock lifted the phaser higher. Tsyrus hesitated briefly, then, confident the challenge was a ruse, started forward again. "If you should use that we would perish together, your captain and I. One day we shall. We are both here, together. And I will not release him. He will remain here, as you will. I cannot leave the receptacle -- it holds me here -- but nor can I continue to exist within it, as formless and cold as the Death around me! I will have life. Thanos will have life again!"

Expressionlessly, Spock fully extended the phaser, its point aimed directly at Tsyrus-Kirk, who paused again at the motion. Neither spoke. Tsyrus took still another step and was about to reach out for the weapon when it swung abruptly away from him and was fired. A shrill whistle filled the cavern as the radiant blue beam went sweeping past Tsyrus to strike the altar stone and turn it brilliant white. Tsyrus gave an anguished cry and bolted for Spock, knocking the phaser from his grasp. They fell together, struggling as the stone glowed yellow, then red, and finally began to shimmer and fade. Tsyrus pulled himself free and stumbled back to it, reaching out to grasp at the remaining image as it flickered and was gone, leaving only rubble behind. Breathing heavily, he turned to look at Spock, who had retrieved the phaser and now stood watching him, the weapon held harmlessly at his side. Tsyrus went to his knees in the midst of the rubble, gathering a handful of the dust that had once been his receptacle, allowing it to sift slowly through his fingers He was pale and shaking when he locked up again, swayed ever-so-slightly and let the rest of the dust fall all at once. He uttered one word, "...Spock..." and collapsed into the ashes.

* * *

The bridge of the Enterprise was humming with its usual activity. Kirk sat silently in his command chair, watching the planetoid Thanos still revolving on the viewscreen. McCoy came out of the turbolift just behind Yeoman Rand and her traditional coffee supply. Kirk took a steaming cup off the tray as Spock and the doctor both converged on his chair. McCoy was about to speak when Uhura said, "Message coming through from SFC Headquarters, Admiral Komack, sir."

"On visual, Lieutenant."

Thanos melted into the disapproving face of the admiral. "Enterprise, you are off course and eight hours overdue at Star Base 37! Commander Spock was explicitly instructed to maintain his heading and under no circumstances--"

"Sir, Commander Spock's decision was made expressly in the line of duty in an emergency situation, and my log entires will verify that fact." Kirk sounded tired. "We will resume course to Star Base 37 directly. Meanwhile I will assume any and all responsibility for the actions of my first officer. In fact, he has my most sincere commendation for everything he's done."

"Kirk, I'll expect your report with explanations in full on my desk before Monday."

"It shall be forthcoming, sir. Enterprise out " Kirk punched the tab and Thanos reappeared on the screen. "Take us out of orbit, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye aye sir."

"You mind if I make a suggestion?" McCoy asked.

Kirk took a sip of coffee, then looked at the doctor accommodatingly.

McCoy said, "You could do with a good night's sleep."

Kirk rubbed his eyes in affirmation of that. "As long as you can promise me no more nightmares, Bones."

McCoy smiled. "No more nightmares," he said. "I think you can thank Mr. Spock for that particular remedy."

Kirk looked up at the first officer. "I'm finding everything he's told me already hard enough to believe. It'll be a while longer before I understand it all."

The Vulcan nodded. "A conceivably discomforting condition," he agreed. "I regret that my own action necessitated Tsyrus' demise. He was the only surviving member of a race that virtually perished eons ago."

Sulu said, "Out of orbit, Sir."

Silently, Kirk watched Thanos begin to pull away from them.

McCoy accepted a coffee cup from Yeoman Rand's tray, said, "Oh, I almost forgot," and pulled a small plastic bottle from the folds of his lab coat. He shook a tiny white pill into his hand, returned the bottle and dropped the tablet into Kirk's coffee.

Kirk looked at him.

"Just a little double security," McCoy said reassuringly. "My personal prescription for deep, restful sleep and a guaranteed absence of nightmares."

Kirk stared into the liquid, shaking it in a tiny, circular motion.

"Well, come on, Jim. Bottoms up!"

Kirk touched cups with him. "Bones," he said, "Here's to your dreams..."
 

- End -