Kirk stared at the Vulcan, a smile slowly coming to the handsome face. "Suppose I refuse?" he asked pointedly.

The eyebrow rose once more. "In that event," the Vulcan replied, "I would have no alternative other than to expedite your immediate discharge from the Fleet." He paused. Poker indeed. "You would be transported to the space-port on Canus Four and eventually to an Orion colony," he bluffed. He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on the desk. "The decision is yours, Jim."

Kirk rose from the chair, shaking his head in mild disbelief. He turned away from the Vulcan, and felt a flare of the old anger. But it quickly faded as respect for the commander chased it away. "And what makes you think I wouldn't jump at the chance?" he wondered.

"You are not a fool, Ensign," the Vulcan responded. "I believe you are …" He hesitated, warring with feelings which suddenly welled in on him. "I believe you are … as displaced in your present role as I perceive you to be," he stated finally. "And that you …" But it wasn't easy to say; a lifetime of discipline and logic fought for survival. "… that you will … find the strength within yourself to … aid in this matter."

Kirk shook his head once again, then turned to face the Vulcan, wondering if it was even possible to trust again. He started to speak, then closed his mouth with the words still suspended in his throat. He took a deep breath. "All right," he conceded at last. And somehow, it didn't injure the fierce pride nor the stubborn ego as he'd half-expected it would. "For all the good it'll do, I'll go on the landing party."

The Vulcan nodded almost to himself. "Thank you," he murmured, recognizing the illogic in his words. "At our present speed, we shall be entering Canusian orbit early in the morning. Please report to the transporter room at 0800 hours."

Kirk nodded, feeling suddenly awkward as he noticed the two capsules of benzaprine on the Vulcan's desk. He turned toward the door.

"Ensign?"

He stopped, but did not face the Vulcan.

"Do you …?" But his voice trailed into silence.

Kirk shook his head in silent negation of the unspoken question. "Tell Doc I flushed 'em down the john," he said quietly, and slipped into the corridor before the Vulcan could reply.

Once outside the captain's quarters, he leaned heavily against the bulkhead, eyes drifting shut. Someone else had made him say the things he'd said. Someone else had walked through his mind. Absently, he twisted the plain gold Academy ring on his left hand as he sank to the floor and began to tremble. Someone else … I believe you are as displaced in your current role as I perceive you to be.

He took a deep breath, running one hand down the smooth metal body of the ship. She … silver woman-goddess.It was time to change …

After a moment, he rose from the cool bulkhead, listening to the pleasant drone of the engines. Reality breathed … more easily now.

Kirk entered his newly assigned quarters silently, glancing about as he dragged the tunic over his head and flopped onto the bed, covering his face with one arm. Despite a prolonged walk in the ship's botanical garden, he found sleep elusive. And the conversation with the Vulcan, now that distance and time had intervened, left him confused. It wasn't easy to care again, not after what had happened the night Instructor Sorek died. His friends had deserted him without so much as a good-bye; but despite the fact that "every man for himself" had always been the unwritten rule of the Academy, bitterness continued to intrude whenever the memories threatened to surface. Yet now it appeared that someone who shouldhave been a total stranger—and the ship's captain at that—was going out of his way to befriend him. But what disturbed the human most was that he didcare … or someone inside him did.

With a deep sigh, he rolled to his feet, checking the chronometer to confirm that he was due in the transporter room in less than an hour. As he started into the bathroom to shower and dress, however, the doors opened to reveal his new roommate.

Richardson grinned as he stepped into the room. "Well," he said, looking curiously at Kirk, "did she finally throw you out?"

Caught off guard by the question, Kirk stopped. "Did whothrow me out?" he asked cautiously.

Richardson shrugged, sitting on the edge of his own bed. "Whoever you've been sleeping with for the last two nights," he clarified, tugging off the regulation black boots and throwing them haphazardly into a corner. "You haven't been staying here," he added, "so I naturally assumed …" He winked conspiratorially.

Despite the man's presumptuous nature, Kirk found himself relaxing. Richardson was obviously nothing like Donner. "No," he muttered, "'she' didn't throw me out." He turned toward the bathroom once again, then impulsively back to the other man. "I've just been keeping the plants company," he explained.

Richardson nodded absently as he discarded his uniform tunic and leaned back on the bed, staring at his wriggling toes. "Yeah," he said, "I used to go down there a lot when I was first assigned to the ShiKahr.It's always nice to take your girl someplace different—somewhere you don't have to be reminded that we're sitting on the biggest potential explosion in the galaxy." He shuddered over dramatically. "Hell, if that episode down in engineering had gone a different way, there'd be pieces of thee and me scattered from here to the Tholian Empire!"

Kirk smiled wistfully. "Then … it's not just rumor?" he asked, sitting down on the side of his own bed. At least Richardson seemed willing to talk shop and not ask a lot of embarrassing questions.

The other ensign shrugged. "I dunno," he said at last. "Everybody down in the psyche lab's been trying to keep it all quiet, but …" He grinned. "Word gets around."

Kirk smiled. "You work in the lab?" he asked conversationally.

"Yup," Richardson confirmed. "'Fraid so."

Kirk's brows narrowed. "You sound positively overjoyed."

"Well," Richardson replied, stretching lazily, "right now we're involved in a vid-scan project—over half the crew altogether. Doc's been clam-mouthed about it, but it's not hard to figure out what's going on. Hell," he continued, "when two hundred people start forming lines outside the door, you can bet there's a reason."

"Any idea … what kindof reason?" Kirk prompted.

A smile came to Richardson's face. "Well, I'd like to think it's a fan club of mine—at least with the female population—but in this case, it seems to be an outbreak of paranoia or something." He winked again. "Security's been armed with butterfly nets and mounting pins, so I wouldn't worry too much, Jim."

Kirk laughed—the first genuine laugh he'd felt in months. "What about you?" he asked pointedly.

Richardson looked away, face suddenly darkening; for a moment Kirk wondered if he'd alienated his new roommate already. But the other ensign took a deep breath, rolling up onto one elbow, as a look of chagrin slowly crossed his features.

"I dunno," Richardson said at last. "I've felt a few twinges."

Kirk smiled reassuringly. "Such as?"

"Such as …" The other ensign laughed at some private memory. "Such as going up to the bridge the other day … doing things I couldn't explain."