Kirk felt something change inside himself, a moment of nonreality, a moment of elation … and finally, the bitterness and the loss. "I … the Enterprise…" He rolled the word off his tongue, comparing the sound with the feelings which accompanied it. Warm. Secure. Home.

But for a moment, EnsignKirk resurfaced. Never to touch her. Never to know her. Never to haveher. "I don't know," he snapped angrily. "Probably just another bad dream." He wondered why he was becoming defensive again, why he felt so helpless and alone. The lidacin stared up at him from the medi-kit, but he turned away before the illusion could tempt him further. "It's nothing, Jerry. Just forget it!"

"Whoa!" Richardson remarked, eyes widening. "Are you sureabout that, Jim?" he asked, wriggling around until he could lean comfortably against the rock-face. "And even if youare, I'm not. I saw it in S'Parva's mind, too—during the link—and I'm convinced that it's something important. Think, dammit!"

Kirk rose, started to run, then abruptly sank to the ground once again. Enterprise… It was just a word, he told himself. Meaningless. Obscure. But that, he realized, was the real lie. With a conscious effort, he chased the bitter ensign-reflection back into the mind shadows, trying to remember more details of the meld he'd done with Spock. She. Enterprise … She. At last, the pieces fell into place like laser-carved puzzle segments. He took a deep breath.

"It's … she's… the ship," he said at last.

Richardson remained silent for a moment, warm brown eyes darkening thoughtfully. " Yourship," he added finally, reaching out to touch Kirk's arm in a gesture of reassurance. "S'Parva and I saw it, too … we just didn't have a name for it."

For a moment, EnsignKirk rebelled, slamming against the heavy walls which CaptainKirk had placed around him. But it was a losing battle. Hazel eyes drifted shut. "Am I a fool to believe that?" he asked, as much of himself as of Richardson. "Or … is it really possible?"

Richardson shivered slightly as a chilly wind whistled through the rock-face, playing alto to the soprano whispers of the spring overhead. "All I know is what I feel," he replied. "And I feellike that'swhere we belong. The rest of it," he continued with an embittered laugh, "is the illusion, Jim."

Kirk turned slowly, eyes instinctively scanning the late afternoon sky. "Well," he said, not daring to dwell on the silver-warm image, "we're not going to do anybody any good sitting here." He rose from the ground, began untying the second bundle of survival gear, and found the small two-man dome-tent.

"Want some help?" Richardson asked, crawling over to Kirk's side on his knees.

"I'll handle the tent," Kirk suggested, spreading the numerous canvas strips and support poles onto the ground. "You see what you can find to eat."

Richardson sat cross-legged on the ground. "I'm a lousy cook," he complained. "And I'm more concerned about how we're going to get outof here. At least in sixth grade, you always knew Mom and Dad would come back at the end of a miserable week. But I don't think our little friends have any such intentions—at least not immediately."

After laying out the tent, locating the stakes and driving them into the ground, Kirk sat down facing his roommate. "Well, our choices are limited to building a spacecraft out of rocks and branches, or just sprouting wings and flying." He grimaced. "Care to hazard a guess at our chances?"

Richardson winked. "We may be physicallystuck here," he conceded, "but there's nothing to keep us from thinkingour way out." He leaned back on the ground, pillowing his head on his good arm. "Since the telepathic link with S'Parva was done just yesterday, her mind should already be receptive to mine; and if I can establish a directional link, we may be able to let her know we're here … wherever 'here' is."

Kirk grunted amiably. "I'll set up the tent," he repeated, meticulously joining two poles together to form the basic structure of the alien contraption. "You see what you can find to eat."

"Suit yourself," Richardson agreed, not moving from his place on the ground. "But if I were you, I'd try to establish a link with Spock. If the images I saw in the link with S'Parva are even remotely correct, you might be able to get through to him telepathically. When I was LieutenantRichardson, I had the strong impression that you and Spock belong together there, too. Besides, what've you got to lose but your sanity?" he asked with a smile.

Kirk felt himself open up a little as he connected the pole to the snap-tight canvas body of the tent. "If that's the case, I've got nothingto lose," he decided. He glanced over his shoulder, confirming what the chilly breeze suggested. In a few more moments it would be dark. "Okay," he said. "I'll try the telepathic link with Spock just as soon as we get camp set up. But it won't do much good to send a message only to have him rescue two frozen corpses, Jerry."

Still, Richardson didn't move, eyes alight with mischief as Kirk hoisted the tent into position. "Now that that's taken care of, what's for dinner, Juliet?" he asked.

Kirk stared mutely at the other ensign, then leaned back, resting on his heels. "How'd you like me to break your other arm?" he asked pointedly.

At last, Richardson rose, strode over to last bundle of survival gear, and popped open the snaps. He peered inside. "Well," he said miserably, "we've got a choice between T'kroumaand S'latami." He shrugged. "And since the Romulans didn't condescend to put pictures on the cans, there's no way of knowing whatthe hell we'd be eating!"

Kirk managed a laugh as he secured the final locktight mechanisms at the proper height on the poles. When completed, a pale blue dome wavered and breathed on the alien landscape like some misplaced animal. After grabbing the tent-pack and withdrawing two well-insulated sleeping bags, he crawled inside.

"I'll pass," he decided as Richardson crawled through the small opening and zipped the "door" shut behind him.

The other ensign grinned. "You're not as crazy as I thought," he said, wriggling carefully into one sleeping bag. He took a deep breath, eyes closing. "You gonna do it?"

In the near-darkness, Kirk glanced at his roommate, letting the images fill his mind. "Yeah," he muttered, feeling reality waver. Already, he could sense another presence; and as his eyes drifted shut, he gave in to the pleasant warmth which accompanied it. Trinity … She… Dark, angular features took shape in his mind's eye, and he began to project outward.

Neutral Zone … desert world … blue sun …

Chapter Eighteen

MCCOY EYED THE Vulcan curiously. Somehow, the long black robes and hood seemed natural on Spock, and the doctor found himself suppressing a smile as they walked across the hangar deck and boarded the T'Favaron. His medical check on the ShiKahr's captain that morning, however, left him troubled. Blood pressure elevated; glandular hyperactivity; emotional stress. Even with the drugs he'd administered to slow the condition's progress, there was no way to know how long the Vulcan could hold on.

As they entered the small craft and assumed their positions along the wall, the doctor exchanged glances with S'Parva. He knew the Katellan didn't trust their Romulan hosts any more than he did himself; and it had been an uphill struggle convincing Thea to permit S'Parva to come along. Only Spock's insistence that the Katellan was his personal guard had finally swayed the Praetor … but McCoy suspected that the lie had been about as transparent as glass.