~ by Laura Cynthia Chambers
“I always said you were a glutton for punishment,” McCoy muttered as he checked the screen above the bed. “Sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
Kirk sat on the edge of the bed, his feet swinging back and forth. “Positive. Between the three of us, I’m the best choice. Both of our affected crewmen were human, and you’ve got to watch my reaction.”
Spock stood nearby with his hands at his side as McCoy handed Kirk the glass full of malarbreesin. Kirk put the glass to his mouth and drank the liquid. He licked his lips. “Hmm. So far, so-“ Kirk’s head snapped up and his back straightened as his eyes glazed over.
McCoy shot a concerned look at the monitor. “What the- He’s stopped breathing!“ He grabbed his medical tricorder and moved the scanner around near Kirk’s body. “It’s having some kind of paralytic effect on him. Jim! Can you hear me?”
Spock, his face concerned, nevertheless rounded the bed swiftly and spoke loudly to Kirk. “Captain, listen to me; there is a tribble on the bedside table. A brown and white tribble.”
McCoy nearly dropped the scanner. “Spock! Have you lost your marbles?” He set it down and grabbed a hypo from a nearby nurse, injecting the captain with its contents. “I’m trying to resuscitate the captain here, and you’re babbling about tribbles!”
Spock arched a stern eyebrow. “My theory, Doctor. If you will indulge me.”
Several minutes passed during which McCoy frantically worked on Kirk. Finally, a blue-faced Kirk lurched forward in bed, coughing and gasping for air. McCoy and Spock both supported him, the doctor clapping his back before laying him down on the bed. He commenced scanning him again. The lines eased from his face. “You’re almost back to baseline now.” McCoy put his hand on Kirk’s shoulder. “Feeling better?”
Kirk exhaled- “Yeah.”- before slowly turning his head to the right. “Where’d you get that tribble, Bones?”
McCoy narrowed his eyes. “What tribble?”
“This one.” Kirk picked up a green memory tape from the bedside table and held it out to McCoy. “I thought we got rid of them all.” He stroked the tape. “I hope you fixed it or else we’re going to have a big problem on our hands.”
McCoy scrutinized Kirk, then looked up at Spock, his finger moving between Kirk and Spock wordlessly. Spock took the tape from Kirk and looked him square in the eye. “Captain…Captain…there is no tribble.”
“Sure there is,” Kirk protested. “Brown and white. You just took it from my-“
“There is NO tribble.” Spock repeated, staring intently at Kirk until he squinted, rubbing his forehead.
“But I-“ Spock gave him back the tape, and he stared at it, before frowning and rubbing the back of his neck. “Ughh…my head. What’s going on?”
McCoy crossed his arms. “That stuff gave you a good kick in the rear. Enough for Spock to play a little mind trick on you.” He turned to the Vulcan. “A trance, then?”
“Precisely. By consuming this drink, one is placed in a temporary state of suggestibility, not unlike hypnosis. Even the most bizarre of ideas can be accepted and acted on.” Spock walked over to the other side of McCoy, his focus now on Kirk. “I deliberately selected a harmless delusion for you, sir, but the effect would be the same if one was strongly convinced of a more dangerous non-reality.”
Kirk rubbed his chin. “Such as believing a man to be a monster.”
“Yes, sir.”
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