RACING OUT OF the turbolift, Kirk saw that Lieutenant Tomson was no longer at her post in the corridor outside sickbay. Spock, Commander Ansfield, and the other two Enterprise security people followed on Kirk's heels as the door to sickbay hissed open for him.
Tomson, her phaser drawn, whirled to face them, her two-meter body lowered in a defensive crouch, and for just an instant Kirk saw the same terror in her eyes that he had seen in Chandler's. Holding up his hand in a gesture to halt those behind him, he came to a complete stop, but by then the look was gone. Beyond her, in the ward, McCoy and Nkrumah were both bent over Chandler.
"Sorry, Captain," Tomson said, lowering the phaser and rising to her full height but offering no explanation.
"Quite all right. I should know better than to rush up behind someone with a drawn phaser. Now, what's happened?"
"I don't know, sir. I heard someone scream, and—"
"That was Chandler, Jim." McCoy was standing back from the bed.
"Chandler? What happened to him?"
McCoy shook his head. "I wish I knew, Jim. No matter what Dr. Nkrumah and I did, he just kept getting more and more agitated. It was getting to the point where we were afraid he would injure himself despite the restraints. His heart rate and blood pressure were sky high and getting worse, so we finally decided our only choice was a strong sedative."
"Not a paralytic?" Ansfield asked sharply.
"No, Commander," Nkrumah said. "If we allowed him to remain conscious, if his agitation continued to grow, his blood pressure could have reached a point that would have brought on a stroke. It could have killed him. He had to be rendered unconscious, regardless of later consequences."
"So," Ansfield said, "you sedated him. Then what? Why did McCoy call us down here?"
McCoy grimaced. "It was crazy," he said. "Dr. Nkrumah gave him the shot, strong enough to knock out a horse. Should've started working in two or three seconds and had him dead to the world in ten seconds at the most. But the second the spray hit him, everything went the other way. His blood pressure and heart rate spiked even higher. It looked like he was simply going to explode, like a blowfish. Then he screamed. Like to deafened us. That's when I called the bridge."
"And since then?"
McCoy shook his head in puzzlement. "By the time I turned around from the intercom, he'd gone under. Just collapsed. His blood pressure took a nosedive, and he went limp, like someone had let the air out of a balloon."
"But he's all right?"
"As far as we can tell." McCoy glanced up at the monitors over the bed. "In fact, he looks better than he did before. The blood pressure's leveled off, and so has the heart rate. And the brain activity's quieted down a lot, too."
"Dr. Nkrumah?"
Everyone looked down at the bed, startled. Impossibly, Chandler was awake. He should have remained unconscious for at least another half-hour.
"Yes, Captain," Nkrumah said, trying to hide his astonishment. "I'm here. What is it?"
"Micah?" Before anyone else could do or say anything, Commander Ansfield had pushed past Kirk and the doctors and was at Chandler's side. "Just take it easy, Micah. We're taking care of everything."
"I'm sorry, Essie," he said. "I must've gone crazy. I—" He paused, looking at McCoy and Nkrumah and then lifting his head so he could see Kirk and the others. "Did it really happen? Did I actually try to fire on a Federation vessel?"
"You did, Micah," Ansfield said. "What happened? Are you over it now?"
He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the bed. He lay still, as if listening for something, or waiting.
Finally, he opened his eyes. "I seem to be all right. But what the hell was it? What happened to me, Nkrumah?"
"We were hoping you could tell us, Captain," the doctor said.
Chandler shook his head. "All I know is, I was afraid of everything and everybody. That damned thing out there, that gate—" He broke off, the memory of the terror enough to send a shiver through his body. Pulling in a deep breath, he looked at Nkrumah. "Think it's safe to let me loose?"
"The fear is gone?" Nkrumah asked. "Totally gone?"
"Looks that way, but I can't guarantee it won't come back." He looked at Ansfield. "Essie, I think you'd better retain command until we get this sorted out. And keep someone close by to act as my keeper if I have a relapse." He paused, something half smile and half grimace pulling at his lips. "Someone with a phaser on heavy stun, who won't hesitate to use it on his captain. You have to get too close to use those hypo sprays. And they don't seem to last very long."
"As you wish, Micah. Let him up, Doctor." She glanced at Kirk, then stood watching Chandler as he sat up slowly, as if testing each muscle before actually using it.
"I think," she said when he was at last on his feet, "that as soon as the doctors give you another good checking over, you'd better hear what Captain Kirk has to say about the gates."
The checks revealed only that Chandler had, physically, returned almost to normal. The sedative, perhaps because of his extreme emotional state when it was administered, had been metabolized at several times the normal rate.
For nearly an hour after the checks were completed, Chandler was closeted in the briefing room with Ansfield, Ortiz, Nkrumah, and the officers of the Enterprise. A stony-faced lieutenant from Cochise security kept close watch on Chandler while McCoy kept a jaundiced eye on the guard. Kirk explained briefly what he had already told Ansfield, and Chandler in turn did his best to recount everything that had happened to him, everything he had thought or felt since the moment the gate had been discovered.
"I wasn't 'possessed,'" Chandler said at one point, a hint of defiance in his voice. "That's one thing I'm positive about. I may have been temporarily insane, but nothing told me to do any of the crazy things I did. I was just plain scared—of virtually everything and everyone."
"But why were you frightened?" Kirk persisted. "That's the whole point of this discussion, to see if we can find some hint of a reason."
"I don't know," Chandler said, grimacing as he tried to pull more details from his memory. "I remember thinking it was a lot like the time I was trapped in that cave back on Earth. I was just a kid at the time, and three of us were—" He paused, shaking his head and glancing at Commander Ansfield. "We were crazy is what we were. You know the cave I'm talking about, Essie."
She nodded, smiling faintly. "We had to send in search parties for at least one group every summer, Micah, so you weren't the only one a little crazy."
"Be that as it may," Chandler resumed, "three of us went in exploring, and we got separated. Or the other two purposely left me. They were fourteen or fifteen and hadn't really wanted a twelve-year-old like me along in the first place, so I've always wondered. But whatever happened, they disappeared. And then my light went out. It was supposed to be good for at least a year's continuous use, but it went out. And there I was in the dark, and I mean total darkness."
He shivered. The memory still had power over him. "They didn't find me until the next morning. It was the worst night of my life, ever, until now. But what I'm getting at is this. I knew there was nothing dangerous in that cave with me. I knew there was nothing that could hurt me—except myself, if I panicked. I knew it! But after a couple of hours, I was scared silly anyway. My heart must've been pounding away at over a hundred, and I could literally feel it all through my body. I hate to think what my blood pressure was. There were virtually no sounds, but I kept hearing things anyway, imagining spiders and snakes and God knows what else collecting all around me, watching me. It was all I could do to keep from trying to kick them or smashing at them with my useless light or with anything I could get my hands on. I even saw things, even though there wasn't a speck of light. It was mostly out of the corner of my eye, but sometimes there'd be something right in front of me. I know it was my imagination—I knew it then, even—but I was so keyed up, if a drop of water had fallen from the ceiling and hit me on the head, I think I would've either passed out or simply taken off running until I bashed into a wall or fell down a crevasse. And the whole time, over and over, I kept telling myself how silly I was being. There was nothing there, nothing to hurt me or frighten me. All I had to do was sit down and wait and someone would be along to get me. But knowing, intellectually and logically, that I was perfectly safe didn't help. It didn't keep me from feeling the things I felt."
Chandler lowered his eyes, staring at his hands, clasped tightly on the table in front of him. "And that's as close as I can come to explaining how I felt these last two days. Only it was worse this time, a hundred times worse. I wasn't in the dark, so I could see perfectly well. I could look at the sensor readouts and see that they registered nothing. But no matter what I saw or didn't see, something deep inside me was still absolutely convinced that something was there, that it was all around me, literally all around me, like the darkness in that cave. And whatever it was, it was taking over all of you! I was the only one free of it. And I'd do anything, anything at all, even order another Federation ship fired on, to remain free of it, to keep it from taking me over."
He laughed nervously into the silence. "And if that isn't insanity, it will have to do until the real thing comes along."
"Not necessarily, Micah," Ansfield said. "As I've said before, there's no reason to say something doesn't exist just because our instruments can't detect it or our eyes see it."
"You're not making me feel any better, Essie. I think I prefer the insanity explanation, frankly."
"Nonetheless, Captain Chandler," Spock said, "it is likely that Commander Ansfield is correct and that there is indeed an external cause for your state of mind."
All eyes turned toward the Vulcan science officer. "Explain, Mr. Spock," Kirk said.
"Yes, Spock, do explain," McCoy said, frowning. "I didn't think your logic would allow you to believe in anything you can't see or measure."
"Your concept of logic is far more confining than mine, Doctor. It is completely logical to look at the evidence as it exists and to follow where it leads."
"And where does it lead you this time, Mr. Spock?" Kirk prompted.
"You have already said, Captain, that the odds are overwhelmingly in favor of there being a connection between the newly discovered gate and Captain Chandler's behavior. You are, of course, correct. As you have pointed out, the type of behavior he has displayed could, under only slightly different circumstances, have led to open warfare."
"I know," Kirk said impatiently. "Something like this could have triggered that whole chain of wars in that other galaxy. I assume you have something new to add."
"Of course, Captain," Spock resumed, unperturbed by Kirk's interruption. "On the bridge, just moments before Dr. McCoy informed us of the change in Captain Chandler's condition, I experienced a sensation similar to but far less intense than that which Captain Chandler has described."
Kirk frowned, feeling a knot of tension forming suddenly in his own stomach. Having Spock, logically and matter-of-factly, verify Chandler's words made them more real, more immediately threatening. "And the source of this sensation, Mr. Spock?"
"Unknown, Captain, although it would appear to have originated within my own mind or body. That is to say, it was quite different from the emotions I have on occasion received through mental links with others. With those, I have always also received an impression, however faint, of the being transmitting the emotions. This time, there was no such impression, no sense of a link with another being. There was only the feeling itself, a feeling of being surrounded by, even immersed in, something inconceivably alien."
"But something had to cause it."
"Precisely, Captain. I am only saying that the sensation was, as far as I can determine, a firsthand sensation, not secondhand. It was as if my perceptions were being affected by a drug rather than by an external mental contact. At this time, I have no logical theory regarding its cause, other than the obvious observation that it, like Captain Chandler's more extreme sensations, is in some way related to the appearance of the gate."
"And you're positive, absolutely positive, that you weren't simply picking up Captain Chandler's own feelings?"
Spock shook his head tolerantly. "It is impossible to be one hundred percent positive of anything, Captain. However, even granting the possibility that the sensations I experienced did originate in the mind of another being, it was certainly not the mind of Captain Chandler. It would have to be the mind of a being far more alien than any I have ever encountered."
For a long moment, there was only silence around the table. Finally, Commander Ansfield spoke. "But you don't feel anything now?"
"No, Commander. The sensation lasted approximately thirty-four seconds and then ceased. It has not recurred."
Ansfield turned toward Spock with a frown. "Approximately thirty-four seconds?"
McCoy grunted. "To Spock, anything not measured in microseconds is a gross approximation. You'll get used to it." He turned to Spock. "And you say this happened when? Just before I called up to the bridge?"
"That is what I said, Doctor."
"How long before? A few seconds? A few minutes?"
"It began approximately eight seconds before your call, Doctor."
"Which would put the start at almost precisely the instant that Chandler screamed in my ear." McCoy turned to Kirk. "Jim, if something did come through the gate, something so alien none of our sensors can detect it, and if it did set up housekeeping in Chandler's head, and if it left when he screamed …"
Kirk nodded thoughtfully. "It was looking for someone else to act as host. It tried Spock but couldn't attach itself for some reason."
"Which means," Ansfield said abruptly, "it moved on to someone else! We have to find it! And the quickest way to start—Mr. Ortiz, take two security people to the bridge and keep watch on everyone there. Let me know the moment you arrive. I'll have everyone else—everyone, off duty and on—assemble on the recreation deck. If this thing has the same effect on its next host as it did on Micah, we'll be able to spot it. And if someone doesn't show up—"
"Commander Ansfield!" the comm unit barked. "Lieutenant Aldrich, engineering. Ensign Stepanovich has gone crazy! He's killed Ensign Rinaldi and forced everyone else out of the control room with his phaser, and now he's locked himself in!"