Jade had completed her initial diagnosis, but she wasn’t at all sure the Captain would want to hear it – or that it was the proper time to present him with it. She had been unable to make any correlation with the sudden inclusion of a Silmaril into the pattern, but had come to the conclusion that it might not actually be related to his subconscious tantrums . After all, immediately after having had the dream in which Ruth had become a Silmaril, Sulu had also had an encounter with one of them. And Jade didn’t for a minute doubt that ‘encounter’ was exactly what it was.

There was a well-known and fully researched phenomenon regarding such experiences. It had been proven in countless psychological experiments: When one was presented with a shock to one’s psychological system, the next thing that happened assumed immense and lasting importance. It was part of the reason abuse victims were so difficult to treat; the very trauma of their abuse caused a deep psychological attachment to the next thing they experienced – almost invariably their abuser. In fact, Jade was convinced that this psychological truth had played a supplementary role in Jilla Majiir’s chemical ‘addiction’ to Sulu.

She banished the tangent from her thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking of reaction to trauma. The point of her recalling the phenomenon had to do with the Silmarils, and their showing up with the discovery of unusual radiation readings that were very likely coming from the neutron star Sulu had seen in his encounter. The Silmarils wanted the crew of the Enterprise to pay attention to something there – and were giving those sensitive to such things a good shock to their psyches. She still didn’t quite understand why this included James. She had checked Sulu’s medical records and found that he had a stronger-than-expected empathic latency. But perhaps it was explained by the simple fact that James T. Kirk was the captain and therefore the one to make the decisions – and the Silmarils knew it. They – the ‘ultimate telepaths’ – were certainly powerful enough to contact any Human they wished.

Perhaps, Jade decided, it would be better all the way around to wait until the mission at the galactic center was completed before having what was certain to be a disturbing conversation with an already agitated commander…

“Dr. Han.” Jim’s voice interrupted her reverie. She turned, bringing the statboard with her diagnosis close to her chest.

“Yes, Captain?” she replied. He looked worn-out.

“I’m heading to my quarters to try and get a few hours sleep,” he said, “and I thought it might help if you had any ideas on the cause of my nightmares.”

Jade sighed. “I’d like to discuss my findings with Dr. McCoy before I…”

“Bones has his hands full,” Jim interrupted, “and I’m a big boy. I need to get some decent sleep.”

“Of course, Captain, but I’m not at all sure my diagnosis will help.”

Jim frowned. “What exactly does that mean, Doctor?”

“That you might find my – conclusions – every bit as disturbing as the dreams.”

She watched as Jim scrubbed weary hands over his face. “That bad?” he said with an uneasy attempt at humor.

“Not ‘bad,’” she assured him. “It’s perfectly normal from a psychological standpoint.” She paused. “But I think you’ll have trouble accepting it.”

Jim stared at her and she could see his need to know warring with the implications of her words. Would the information be ‘disturbing?’ Would that disturbance interfere with his ability to command? Was that risk worth more horrible and panicked night terrors? How to weigh one against the other? Finally, he took a deep breath. “Go ahead,” he said.

Jade spoke quietly, choosing her words with utmost care. “The evidence suggests, James,” she said, deliberately using his name rather than the more distancing rank, “that you’re acting out a vengeance complex.”

“That thought has occurred to me, Doctor,” Jim returned and Jade recognized the attempt to put the conversation back on a footing where he was in command. “But it doesn’t make sense. I have no reason to hate Ruth, and Spock is my best friend. There’s no – ” he paused, smiling wanly, “ – logic in it.”

“I’m afraid there is,” Jade said evenly. “Spock has something you want very badly…”

“I’m not jealous of Ruth,” he interrupted sternly. “I know what those log tapes sounded like, but what we had was casual. I never had or wanted any claim on her.”

“That’s not precisely what I meant,” Jade rejoined. She took a careful breath. “Spock has a life. Spock has a woman’s love. Spock has the luxury of loving back.” She watched Jim’s eyes as she continued. “And he chose those things, James, over you, over your ship, over the life you and he once shared. In essence, he jilted you and your…”

“That’s bullshit!” Jim exploded angrily. “When I said Spock was my friend, I meant just that!”

“Yes, James, I’m not disputing that,” Jade began. “But if you’ll consider…”

“The hell I will!” Jim snapped. “If I’m vengeful,” he spat the word, “it’s certainly not because I’m a scorned lover! If that’s the kind of Freudian crap you give all you patients it’s a wonder you’ve gotten the reputation you have.”

Jade raised an eyebrow. “If you’ll listen to my reasoning, James…”

“Reason? You honestly expect me to believe there’s reason to this? I’m not attracted to men, Dr. Han. I don’t think Spock jilted me and whatever it is that’s causing these nightmares, it isn't because I want to take him away from Ruth! Why would I want to see him suffer if that were the case? Because he hurt me?” He snorted. “Bullshit!” he snapped again. “If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I don’t have the time or energy for this kind of nonsense.” He turned on his heel, striding out of Sickbay.

Well, that certainly went well, Jade thought caustically.

You shouldn’t have told him now. He’s in no mood to be receptive.

He insisted. He is the captain.

And you’re his doctor.

True enough. Still, can it do any harm? It might even shock his psyche into actually refusing the nightmares.

Or, at the very least, fill him with enough adrenaline so that he won’t feel the need to sleep for a few hours.

My, we’re in fine humor today, aren’t we?

Jade sighed. It would be nice if she could discuss the more pressing problems – visions and Silmarils and Seeders.

Ruth closed her eyes to clear the pounding in her head, then stared again at the sensor logs. Something simply wasn’t making sense. If V 4641 Sagittarii were the source, the readings should be getting stronger and more regular as they got closer, but the radiation bursts were just as erratic, maybe – if she could believe what her brain was telling her – more so. She’d set the computer on it, thinking that perhaps she was simply too tired to make some necessary correlation, but so far, no pattern had shown up.

She took a deep breath, made a back-up, and cleared the current log. She started tracking the bursts from scratch, hoping to see – something. She didn’t know what. Should she know? There were a lot of things she knew that she didn’t want to know, but were there things that she shouldn’t?

And where had that thought come from?

Waves of agony seared into her, her head screaming a protest at being conscious. She couldn’t stop it and the memories that evoked sent panicked fear all through her. I can’t stop it, I can’t stop it, Sister, help me!

Nausea swept through her and she clutched at the desk in the Physics Lab, pulling herself along it to the door. She tried to reach the intercom, tried to send a telepathic cry to Spock, even with knowing how much pain that would cause them both. Three feet from the lab door she fell with a heavy thud, her eyes closing in unconsciousness.

“Damnit, Han, he had enough problems without you playing Freud on him!” McCoy was shouting.

Jade stood before Leonard, nonplussed despite the anger that was boiling inside her. Her night’s sleep hadn’t been interrupted by either James or Jilla – although she knew that was partly due to the sedative order McCoy had left and Lieutenant Commander Sulu’s prompt attention to the matter at 2100 hours the evening before. That was an aggravation that disturbed her, for although she wasn’t sure why, Sulu’s insistence and Jilla’s reluctance bothered the hell out of her.

She deliberately cleared her mind, a feat that was far more difficult than it should have been since she hadn’t had any Rigellian.

“Leonard,” she said patiently, “he asked me about my diagnosis. I informed him that he might find it – unsettling. He insisted. Was I supposed to treat him like a child?”

“No, Doctor, you were supposed to treat him like a patient and make the decision on whether or not he could handle your diagnosis yourself!” McCoy growled.

“And how was I to know he’s so damned homophobic?” Jade found herself snapping. “That’s not in his medical history, you know!”

“He’s not homophobic, he’s just very, very heterosexual,” McCoy defended. “And so is Spock, by the way, or haven’t you met his wife? You could’ve talked to me first…”

“I suggested that, Leonard. The captain informed me he was a big boy. And this has nothing to do with Spock’s sexual preferences. These are James’ nightmares…”

“Doctor…” came a weak, hoarse voice and Jade spun to it. Spock stood in the doorway to the Sickbay, clutching at the doorframe for support. His pale, haggard face was a shock to her senses and she hurried to his side.

“Leonard, some assistance, please,” she said, even knowing that he would already be next to the First Officer. She heard the hiss of a hypospray, and rather than some indication of relief, Spock’s body stiffened. An involuntary cry came from him and he slumped.

“Morrison, help me get him onto a bed,” McCoy snapped and Jade moved aside to let the stronger orderly help Spock to the diagnostic table. She moved to begin the scan, when another voice came from the corridor; Ramon Ordona, carrying an unconscious Ruth Valley.

“I found her in the Physics Lab,” the lieutenant said worriedly. “She’s a keheil, what could possibly be wrong with her?”

“Over here, Lieutenant,” McCoy said, indicating another bed. “Jade, see to Spock.”

With a deeply worried sigh of her own, she focused on the Vulcan’s diagnostic readings.

DelMonde winced, his spanner clattering to the deck as the dull throb in his head got suddenly sharp and biting. He could hear a faint cacophony of voices, urgent and terrified, but couldn’t understand what they were saying. He tried to block out the pain, calling to the image of his mother – and it increased. Swearing, he started to climb out of the Jeffries tube, and the thunder screamed louder in his head. He lost his hold and fell to the deck, the intensity escalating in a way he wouldn’t have believed possible. His breath came sharp and shallow as he tried to force himself to his feet, only to fall to his knees, clutching helplessly at his temples. He begged the brightly glowing figures in his mind to go away and it was his last conscious thought.

Sulu’s fingers moved deliberately over the Helm controls, carefully altering the modulation of the ship’s shields to compensate for the changes in the radiation readings that were being fed to him from the Science Station. It didn’t seem to be affecting navigation; Chekov assured him that they were on a steady course to V 4641 Sagittarii. It was a relief, Sulu had to admit, to get away from the drills. The inexplicable drop in crew efficiency had to be responsible for his bad mood; he was tired, annoyed, unaccountably angry at everything. Concentrating on simple helm work could only improve his disposition.

He didn’t understand what had happened, why he’d seen a Silmaril in Jilla’s place, or the reason behind his certainty that the ship had to head for the neutron star. He was grateful the captain hadn’t locked him up as a total twitch. The captain’s desire to have him at the Helm had also given him the perfect opportunity to avoid both Jilla’s nightmares and LiLing’s new tenacity.

That had surprised him. From what Jeremy had told him, and from what Cajun had said of her, possessiveness was the last thing he’d expected.

Yeah, you thought you could fuck her and walk away, just like you always have.

It’s only been the one time. It’s natural that she’d be a little anxious to know if that’s all it’s going to be. That’s not necessarily possessiveness.

He glanced up at the Science Station to find her smiling at him. He automatically smiled back, then heard Chekov’s disapproving grunt. Shut up, Pavel, he thought furiously.

Then a soft moan came from Engineering and he turned to it. Jilla was ghastly pale, swaying in her seat. He was up and moving to her when his vision was filled with a brilliant silver flare, and he heard her crying, “Al lina tu coros i derson!” Please, I’m afraid to die!

He felt Jilla collapse into his arms before his vision cleared, and when it did, he saw only her eyes rolled hideously back into her head. His heart thundering in his chest, he raced with her to Sickbay.

Jim screamed and drove himself awake. He was covered in sweat, his pulse pounding, his head filled with the image of Ruth/Ilne disappearing in the phaser’s red flare. He had complained to Bones about Dr. Han’s ‘diagnosis’ before going to sleep, hoping in the back of his mind that if she were correct, however absurd a thing that seemed, the nightmares wouldn’t return. But correct or not, her evaluation hadn’t helped one bit.

He rose from his bed, treading heavily to the head, gulping glass after glass of water. He splashed some on his face and on the back of his neck, then heard the com signal. He straightened and returned to the sleeping area of his cabin, sitting on the bed.

“Kirk here,” he said in what he hoped was a normal tone of voice.

“Jim, you better get down here,” McCoy voice said, sounding nowhere near normal. “Spock and Ruth are… Damnit, DelMonde too? Put him there, Miller. Jim, something’s going on and I think…”

“I’m on my way, Bones,” Jim broke in. He quickly dressed, trying not to panic at the fear rising in his gut.

Jade studied the readings over Noel DelMonde’s head, already knowing what she would find. Just as with Spock and Ruth Valley, the indicators showed life functions inexorably slowing with unbelievably high readings on the pain registers. But there was no physical cause the scanners could detect. Leonard is right, it has to be something telepathic, she thought, but what? What possible cause can there be for this kind of physical reaction from a telepathic…

“McCoy, do something!” Sulu’s anguished voice interrupted her deliberation and she turned from DelMonde’s bed to see the helmsman carrying Jilla into the Sickbay. The Indiian’s body was twitching and when Jade got close enough, she could recognize the grand mal seizure.

“When did this start?” she asked brusquely as she directed Sulu to lay Jilla on yet another bed.

“How long does it take a lift to get from the Bridge to Sickbay?” Sulu replied breathlessly.

Jade frowned, opening the Indiian’s mouth, placing a long rubber cylinder against the dark pewter-colored tongue. “This started on the Bridge?” she said.

“She was pale, she screamed, I saw… I don’t know if she went nova or…” Sulu managed.

“Went nova?” Jade interrupted.

“It’s what we call it – when emotion… when she glows, Doctor,” the helmsman explained helplessly. “I saw a bright silver flash, and she cried out in Indiian and then just – collapsed. Her eyes rolled back and... she didn’t start convulsing until we were in the lift.”

Jade quickly checked the diagnostic readings. Jilla, too, registered nearly unbelievable pain, but her life functions were all in high gear, erratic and increasing.

“What did she say, Lieutenant Commander?” Jade asked. When Sulu didn’t answer, she glanced up at him. He was staring at Jilla, the anguish so plain on his features that Jade couldn’t stop the flood of sympathy that swept through her. To watch someone you love dying… She quickly banished the thought.

“Mr. Sulu, what did she say?” she repeated.

He swallowed, tears coming into his eyes. “She said,” he began, and had to swallow again, “she said, I’m afraid to die.” His eyes closed, and Jade again had to stop the bitter wave of recognition.

Jim expected Sickbay to be a madhouse, but the only sounds that met his ears as he came out of the corridor were the sounds of the diagnostic scanners, intermittent, incoherent moans, and McCoy’s muttering as he fed data into the medical computers. Dav Miller, Ramon Ordona and Scotty waited anxiously against the far bulkhead, staring at the beds which held Spock, Ruth and DelMonde. Sulu hovered over a fourth bed, one that contained Mrs. Majiir, Dr. Han taking additional reading with a hand-held scanner. Unlike the others, the Indiian was not motionless. Jim glanced at the readings above her bed. They, too, were different. Where Spock, Ruth and DelMonde showed low readings in all life functions, Jilla’s were chaotic, random, flaring and subsiding in irregular, seemingly haphazard fashion, almost in bursts…

Bursts. Like the radiation.

He quickly turned to the com unit. “Bridge, this is the captain,” he barked. “Who’s at Sciences?”

“Ensign LiLing, here, sir,” cane the immediate response.

“Ensign, pipe the sensor logs concerning the radiation bursts to Sickbay.”

“Yes, sir,” she acknowledged, then Pavel Chekov’s voice, sounding farther away, added, “Sir, we’ve reached safe distance from V 4641 Sagittarii.”

“Hold us here, Mr. Chekov,” Jim said. He stepped away from the com, moving closer to Lieutenant Majiir’s bed. “Bones,” he called, getting the doctor’s attention, “I’ve got sensor logs being routed here. Check them against Mrs. Majiir’s diagnostics.”

“Against…” McCoy began. “Jim, I’m tryin’ to figure out why Ruth and Spock and DelMonde are dyin’, I don’t have time to…”

“Just do it, Bones!” Jim snapped.

Jade came up next to him. “James, you think you have a correlation?”

“Yes,” he said with a frown. “But I have no idea what it means.”

“I think I might,” she returned quietly. Jim gazed down at her.

“More Freudian pigeonholing, Doctor?”

“No,” she replied, her dark eyes blazing, “unless Freud was a Seeder.”

Jim started. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, Captain. Sulu saw one, so did you, and whatever’s going on here has to be telepathic. And the Silmarils are the ultimate telepaths, yes?”

“Dr. Han, I don’t know where you’re getting your information…”

“Jim, you’re right!” McCoy broke in, jumping up from the computer. “The radiation bursts match Mrs. Majiir’s readings exactly.”

“What does that mean, doctor?” Sulu asked anxiously.

“I’d say it means we’d better get her the hell away from that neutron star,” McCoy returned.

“But why?!” Jim was suddenly demanding. “Why is this happening? What does it mean? And what does it have to do with Spock or Ruth or…”

Jade turned to McCoy. “You said the Seeder’s idea of ‘soon’ may be a lot closer to ours than you thought,” she said bluntly. “Soon regarding what?”

“How the hell…” McCoy blurted out.

“Damn it, we don’t have time!” she retorted angrily. “Soon regarding what?!”

Several things happened at once. Jilla let out a piercing, soul-crushing shriek. Sulu abruptly dropped to his knees, shielding his face with his arms as though being blinded by some intensely brilliant light. Spock and Ruth and DelMonde sat up, bodies rigid, eyes snapping open, mouths in soundless ‘O’s’ of silent horror. And the com signaled, LiLing’s voice saying urgently, “Captain, there’s a gamma flare of an undetermined magnitude building in…”

“Chekov, get us out of here, NOW!” Jim shouted at the intercom.

“Emergency warp, aye, sir!” came Chekov’s immediate response.

Scott and Dav Miller raced out of the Sickbay, already exchanging data on increasing the output of the dylithium crystals.

Then the telepaths, as one, fell back onto their beds as the pain registries began dropping rapidly toward normal. Jilla began choking, then vomiting, and McCoy grabbed a emesis pan, quickly moving to her aid. Jade knelt beside Sulu who was gasping for breath as though he had just run a marathon. And Jim sank wearily into the seat beside the desk, rubbing shaking hands over his face.

The Enterprise had been away from V 4641 Sagittarii for over forty-eight hours. The heading Chekov had chosen, and which Jim later approved, had taken the ship away from the galactic center as well. As far as the captain was concerned, their mission had been successfully completed – they had, after all, catalogued the ‘myriad of strange phenomenon’ as ordered. Spock, Ruth Valley and Noel DelMonde had spent the better part of that forty-eight hours in Sickbay, receiving much needed protein, hydration and plain, unmedicated rest. Mrs. Majiir had recovered from her seizure with no knowledge of it and no lasting effect either Dr. McCoy or Dr. Han could find. Jim, too, had slept unmedicated – with no nightmares. And from Sulu’s calm, relaxed demeanor, he was nearly certain the Indiian’s had stopped as well.

That left only one complication of the mission to be discussed. He had called for a briefing; himself, Spock, Dr. McCoy, and Dr. Han. He had debated including Sulu, but caution won out. The helmsman would simply have to live with unsated curiosity.

When he entered the briefing room, he carefully voice-locked the door, ignoring Dr. Han’s suddenly rising eyebrows. “First things first,” he said. “This is above top security, need-to-know, eyes-only priority and the contents of this discussion will not – I repeat will not be revealed to anyone outside this room without my explicit authorization. Is that clear, Dr. Han?”

She nodded unperturbedly. “Yes, Captain,” she replied.

Jim cleared his throat. “It’s obvious from certain statements you made to both me and Dr. McCoy that you know about the Silmarils, their connection to the Seeders and our conversation regarding them.” Spock’s eyebrow rose and Jim saw McCoy nodding a scowling affirmation. “What I want to know is how.”

Jade cocked her head to one side. “Very simple, Captain,” she replied. “I eavesdropped.”

“You what?” McCoy burst out.

“Doctor, that is not like you,” Spock admonished.

Jade faced the Vulcan squarely. “When the health and well-being of one of my patients is at stake, it most certainly is.”

“What health and well-being…” McCoy began.

“The captain was having debilitating nightmares,” Jade returned. “I was assigned to discover the cause and a possible solution. When my patient called Sickbay with new information regarding the situation – information he was obviously not going to share with me – I had little choice.”

“And you don’t find that just the tiniest bit unethical,” McCoy challenged.

“Not at all,” was Jade’s response. “I’m a doctor first, a Starfleet officer a distant second.”

“Jade,” Spock rejoined, “the information you now possess may be highly dangerous.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she told him. “Apparently the Seeders – still with us and still involved – have something they want us, or at least someone, to do. There may be some kind of catastrophic danger to life as we know it at some future date – and none of you knows how far in the future that is. The situation with the telepaths aboard the Enterprise over the past week and a half is somehow connected, but no one seems to know just how.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “All that is clear from this disastrous situation is that someone – perhaps a Silmaril herself – died. You saw it, James. So did Sulu. The telepaths felt her pain. Jilla Majiir experienced her death. That death was connected somehow to the radiation bursts from V 4641 Sagittarii – which have now stopped, haven’t they?” She glanced at Spock for confirmation. The Vulcan’s head nodded slowly, the dark eyes hooded. “As to why this affected the telepaths and sensitives on this ship, I don’t know. But I doubt it was coincidence that it was this ship which had contact with the Silmarils.” She folded her arms, glancing at each of the men before her in turn. Finally she added, “And James, my diagnosis of your nightmares stands, with a small modification which you and I can discuss privately later. The Silmarils may have been trying to get your attention, but it was your subconscious that chose the form.”

Jim controlled his flush and exchanged glances with McCoy and Spock. McCoy was staring a little nervously at the table. Jim knew how uncomfortable he was with knowing anything about the Seeders, and Jade’s too-insightful guesses would be eating away at him. Spock’s expression was veiled, which told Jim that the Vulcan, too, considered Dr. Han’s conclusions far more accurate than not.

“What about Mr. Sulu,” Jim said, quite frankly just to be able to say something.

“His records indicate a high level of latent empathy,” Jade returned. “If some ultimate telepath was trying to broadcast information, he’d almost certainly pick up on it.”

“Doctor,” Spock began slowly, “If all you say is correct… if it was indeed a Seeder and if our – experiences – were due to a cry for help…”

“I know, Spock,” Jade interrupted. “We failed. I’m sorry.”

And after that, there was nothing more to say.

Ruth stepped onto the Bridge and Uhura turned to her. “Lieutenant, we’ve just received a request from Memory Alpha,” she said quietly. “They want you to help in the reconstruction of the computer records.”

Ruth scowled. “Yeah? Did they say for how long?”

Uhura’s face conveyed nothing but sympathy. “Six weeks.”

“Six weeks? Don’t they know I’m a newlywed?”

Sulu glanced up from the helm, grinning. “Hell, Spike, not after four months.”

“When it took me as long as it did to get him into bed…” Ruth grumbled. Sulu snorted and she gave him a mock-glare. “Shut up, Roy, or I won’t break up Del-jiir over there.”

Sulu turned to the Engineering station, where Jilla and DelMonde were kneeling on the deck. They were working on the circuitry that had been compromised by the radiation from V 4641 Sagittarii’s gamma flare.

“Why should you?” he asked brightly. “I trust her.”

“Ah, but do you trust him?” Ruth returned wickedly. At Navigation, Monique DuBois giggled. Jilla looked up.

“Ruth,” she said simply, but her eyes flashed in annoyance.

“Uh oh,” Ruth grinned. “Coming, mother.” She crossed the Bridge, crouching down beside the two engineers.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Damn radiation put off all th' gauges. We got to recalibrate…”

“Awww, poor Del…”

“Ruth, just help.”

“Yes, mother.”

“We got to…”

“Unless there is a way…”

“… we not measure it, I be t’inkin’…”

“…be better if…”

“An’ what you know ‘bout…?”

“More than you, Cajun!”

“Hot shit Missus…”

“Don’t you even…!”

“Please, will you…”

“Sorry. Give me the…”

“Mr. Scott needs only…”

“If we move the sensor to…”

“That make no sense t’all…”

“It would if you’d…”

“Ouch! Mon Dieu…”

“DelMonde, since when are you all thumbs?”

“Leas’ mine opposable…”

“Sign of evolution? Finally?”

“Must I engage a referee?”

“Isn’t that what you are?”

“Non, babe, but a chaperone…”

“Shut up.”

The turbolift door opened and as Spock came onto the Bridge, the banter suddenly died. Sulu shook his head sympathizing with both Ruth and DelMonde simultaneously, then realized that LiLing was right behind the First Officer, handing him reports to sign. She caught his eyes, and smiled at him. He started to smile back and Ruth cleared her throat noisily. He shrugged at her, then saw DelMonde’s swift glance to him, then to Jilla – and then to LiLing. Damn empaths, he snarled to himself, but continued to affect chagrinned innocence. It wasn’t like he’d never reacted to a beautiful woman before, was it?

“Miss Valley,” Spock said as he took the con. Ruth stood. Uhura mouthed ‘sorry’ at her. “We have received a request from Memory Alpha…”

Ruth sighed. “I know, Boss,” she said. “You wouldn’t consider telling them I’ve just been through a terrible ordeal and am not fully recovered…”

Spock tilted his head, lifting a familiar eyebrow.

“No, I guess not.” She sighed again. “When do I leave?”

“Our estimated arrival time at Memory Alpha is two weeks, providing the Captain approves.”

“And he will,” Ruth grumbled.

“In the meantime,” Spock returned, “draw up a duty schedule that will distribute your responsibilities for the time you will be away. As Ensign LiLing is, like yourself, a generalist in Sciences, please familiarize her with your overall duties.”

Ruth scowled, then turned back to Jilla. “You okay without me?” she asked.

Jilla nodded and Ruth ignored DelMonde’s muttered, “Non, we all die.”

Sulu kept his chuckle to himself and started to return his attention to the Helm – and LiLing again caught his eye. Her sensual mouth formed the word ‘tonight.’ A shiver went up his spine and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether or not he nodded.

“Watch it, Ensign,” Ruth warned as she and LiLing stepped into the turbolift.

“I am, Lieutenant,” LiLing replied smugly.

“You said we’d talk privately later, Dr. Han,” Jim said as he stepped into Jade’s office. Jade rose from her desk.

“So I did, Captain,” she returned. “Won’t you sit down?”

“I’ve thought about what you said,” he continued as he took a seat before the desk. As he expected her to, Jade came around it to sit on it. “And I can’t agree with your interpretation.”

“That’s fine, James,” she told him. “You don’t have to.”

He frowned. “But you said you had made a small modification?” She nodded. “And this is due to your – eavesdropping?”

“Not precisely, although that information certainly needed to be taken into account.” She paused and met his gaze. “James, may I ask your opinion of the Nest ships?”

Jim blinked. “I beg your…” he began.

“Humor me,” she interrupted.

He frowned again. “Well, I’m all in favor of non-Terran recruitment,” he began, “but I don’t really like the idea of children on a working starship. There’s enough to do, enough to keep track of without worrying about whether or not one’s children are safe.”

“Hmm,” Jade said. “What about scientific ships, like the Alterra exploration ships of a decade ago?”

“Those weren’t starships, not military ships,” he clarified.

“And what’s the difference?” Jade wanted to know.

“Most exploratory ships don’t get into regular battles with hostile life forms.”

“And do you think that might be what the Silmarils have in mind?”

Jim was taken aback. “What?” he said.

“Ships that don’t get into regular battles with hostile life-forms – that are very likely our cousins.”

Jim took a breath. He’d thought the same thing himself, but not in the context of military versus exploration. Still… “Alright,” he said at last, “I can see your point. But what does that have to do with my nightmares?”

“Consider, James,” Jade stated. “Your nightmares centered around destroying a family unit. They even included the idea of destroying an unborn child. We suspect these nightmares were instigated, if not directly influenced by, the Silmarils’ attempt to contact us regarding some emergency situation – something that required we travel to a neutron star near the galactic center – where we perhaps not coincidentally happened to be. Perhaps, James, there’s a connection between the form of your nightmares, and the fact that the Silmarils want us to consider all sentient lifeforms our kindred.” She paused and Jim tried not to let the shock show in his expression. Dr. Han was dangerously perceptive. “Children raised together, in a multi-cultural climate and the family feel of a Nest ship, James, just might consider all such children, regardless of species, their brothers.” She smiled. “Perhaps the Silmarils were trying to present you with an idea so repugnant, so horrific, that when presented with a similar situation, you’d rethink your opposition to children born on starships. For example, if Ruth were to conceive? If you were faced with a choice between losing Spock as a Starfleet Officer or allowing him to raise his child on your ship?”

Jim cleared his throat. This theory was at least more palatable than her previous one – but how she could consider it a ‘small modification’… “I can certainly consider it, Doctor,” he said.

“And the idea that the unspoken rule against combining careers and family is perhaps – ” she paused, “out-dated?”

Jim’s frown turned into a scowl. What was she saying? First, I’m supposed to be jealous of Spock and Ruth, and now… what? Pissed that Spock’s somehow flouting Starfleet policy? Upset that he obviously doesn’t share my views on Nest ships? Worried that I’m going to ‘lose’ him unless… Or is she saying that’s what the Silmarils are saying? The Silmarils are pushing me to take another look at Starfleet policy. Just like they pushed for a repeal of the Prime Directive. She’s convinced my psyche is clinging to policy like the proverbial port in a storm, and that my nightmares are the expression of my inner conflict, a conflict that exists because Spock is a loyal officer yet he does have a family life. And the Silmarils are part of that conflict – only on the other side. And there’s the connection. “I don’t think Spock has betrayed the ideals of Starfleet,” Jim stated coolly, “anymore than I believe he’s betrayed me.”

Jade smiled again. “Anyway, James, that’s my small modification.”

Jim stood. “Thank you for your evaluation, Doctor. If I’m bothered by such dreams again, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“I’m sure you will. Goodnight, Captain.”

She rose from her seat on the desk and Jim walked to her office door. He turned as he reached it, tempted to ask her how she had come to her perilous conclusions about the Silmarils. No. To engage in any more discussion about it only increases the risks. And there are enough of those already.

He watched silently as, her back still to the door, she straightened the data tapes on her desk. I just hope, he thought uneasily, you haven’t bought yourself more trouble than it’s worth.

The End