Quietly, carefully, he edged closer, kneeling by the man on the ground.

Dressed in civilian clothing, the human had drawn himself into a fetal position, and was clutching his chest tightly in sleep. Apparently, the Vulcan surmised, Kirk had fallen asleep in the afternnon "sun" of the gardens. But even in repose, the ensign appeared tired and troubled, almost to the point of mental and physical exhaustion.

Telling himself it was purely professional concern, knowing otherwise, Spock studied the sleeping man openly, not surprised to see several scars and bruises. But in those minor injuries—apparently a combination of Donner's rowdiness and the Canusian incident—Spock observed much more. For an instant, he was in Sickbay, standing over this human as he'd done a hundred times before. Kirk had been injured during planetfall (again); McCoy was working frantically to save his life (again); and Spock knew he must be there when his companion awakened (if indeed he ever did).

Wrenching himself free of the memory which wasn't a memory at all, the Vulcan leaned back to sit on the ground. But as he sat there, alone despite the human's presence, a sudden simplicity of vision presented itself. A few moments before, he had accepted that he was no longer Vulcan; and the concept that ancient doctrine and taboos would prevent his helping the young ensign severed whatever strand had tied him to his own heritage. With the cool rapport of a meld, he could stop the human's nightmares, erase the lingering mental anguish from the Talos Device … fill emptiness with purpose.

And perhaps there would be other answers as well. The mind knew no limits. And any universe—no matter how small or large—could dwell inside one thought.

T'lema … he who walks in dreams.

No … Kirk was no stranger to his mind.

Dizziness swayed the Vulcan's hand. Logic fought … and lost. Before permitting himself the luxury of altering his decision, he initiated the mind meld.

Kirk tensed instinctively in his sleep, from the mental thread which gently entered his mind. But as he became aware of his true surroundings, his eyes snapped open, a gasp of surprise slipping past his control when he saw the Vulcan commander leaning over him.

For a moment, Spock did not move. And as their eyes met in near-darkness, the Vulcan thought he detected the same sense of recognition in Kirk that he had experienced within himself. For the briefest of instants, reality had altered.

Not moving, Kirk took a deep breath. "What are you doing?" he asked pointedly, tone neither accusing nor encouraging.

The Vulcan began breathing again, and hesitantly withdrew the initial strand of the fragile link. He did not have a logical answer; yet his suspicions were confirmed. He didknow Kirk … or would know him in some alien future. In the mind, the Time-mistress had no authority, the Reality Keeper was lost. And Kirk's reaction alone proved something. Logically, EnsignKirk would have responded with outrage, the Vulcan thought. But the utterly calm human exterior left him confused.

"I … sensed that you were troubled by … dreams," he stated, schooling his voice to its calmest level. "Please forgive me," he added, annoyed by words which became more clipped and difficult as he continued. "I did not intend to … intrude."

Surprisingly, the enigmatic human only stretched out on the ground. "Since I'm already considered to be crazy by the majority of people on this ship," he began, "maybe it won't be too difficult to say what I'm thinking for a change." He smiled wistfully, wondering where his anger had disappeared to. "Then you can haul me down to Sickbay and have me fitted for one of those jackets that tie in the back."

A curious brow arched. It was the first time Spock could recall the ensign displaying any sense of humor at all. "Please explain."

Kirk didn't move from his reclining position as he began nervously twisting the gold ring on his left hand. His eyes settled on the ceiling, on the purples and muted blacks and the foggy humidity which was shedding dew-tears on the mossy ground.

"Right now," he began, "I feel just about as phoney as that sunset." Somehow, it was easier to share his thoughts with the Vulcan than he'd expected. Briefly, he wondered how far the meld had gone while he was asleep, but … no. It was something else which had thrown their lives together. "I don't know myself anymore," he added matter-of-factly, "but I doknow you." He turned, studying the angular face of his commanding officer.

The Vulcan's expression softened as he held himself open to Kirk's visual inspection. "Would you consider me a madman if I informed you that I reflect your thoughts?" he asked.

Kirk propped himself up on one elbow, looked cautiously at the Vulcan, then abruptly abandoned the pose of disinterest. "I talked to a couple of people down in the psyche lab," he confessed at last. "Gossip has it that the ShiKahr's been swept into some sort of alternate universe."

The Vulcan remained silent, watching Kirk twist the gold band. "That is one theory," he relinquished, wondering where the conversation was leading.

For a very long time, Kirk continued to stare at the captain; but his expression slowly hardened to one of bitterness.

"What made you save me instead of Donner down on Canus Four, Captain?" he asked. Disjointedly, he cursed himself for the sudden anger; yet it came anyway. Another blessing of the Talos Device. "Or was it an accident that you just happenedto go out of your way to kill the savages who were closer to me?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Donner's little friends were directly in your line of fire, Captain," he continued. "Yet you deliberately let him die. Why?"

The Vulcan blinked, surprised by the chameleonlike change in the human. He glanced away, suddenly uncomfortable. It was a question he'd asked himself constantly since the incident. It was a question to which there was—again—no logical answer. "I … calculated that there would be ample time for a second shot," he responded. "Donner was more experienced in planetfall." Liar!his mind screamed. Unfit for Vulcan. Unfit for Command. Liar!"Unfortunately, my calculations were incorrect." He steeled himself, told himself to be silent, but to no avail. "It was a command decision," he added, battling another wave of dizziness and disorientation.

Kirk muttered to himself, then looked straight into the Vulcan's eyes. " Logically," he said, "you shouldhave saved Donner. He belonged here. He … wantedhis life." Darkness crept into his cheeks.

One eyebrow arched as the Vulcan attempted to mask his own sudden emotions with the appropriate air of command. "And you do not want yours?" he asked. It was dangerous territory.

Kirk shrugged. "That's not what I meant," he snapped, turning away from scrutinizing eyes which stripped away the charades. He forced himself to speak more calmly. "All I know is that Donner had more of a … rightto life than I do." He bit his lower lip painfully. "Look, Captain," he said at last, "whether you saved my life by accident or by choice doesn't matter." He paused, hating the part of himself which had broken free to the surface. "But you might've done both of us a favor if you hadn't!" He avoided looking at the Vulcan; it hurt to care. "This … this isn't right," he insisted. "I don't know what isright, but it isn't this! It's as if we're all going through the motions of something we can't even begin to understand!"