Want to read some of the novel before you decide whether to buy it?  Sort of like picking up a book in the bookstore and flipping through the pages, it's a good way to discover if this zine is the right one for you.  Here’s a portion of the first chapter of In the Shade:

The healers had kept them waiting for more than twenty minutes. Every once in a while the low murmur of voices came from the rooms that Kirk knew existed on the other side of the wall behind his back; that was the only reason he had to believe that Sluman and T’Braggia were actually present this morning in their consulting suite on a quiet, tree-lined side street in San Francisco. Vulcans didn’t countenance illogical delays. It was assumed that patients would arrive punctually, and then they would speak with a healer. He and Spock had already done that twice since the Enterprise had eased into orbit over Earth, and Kirk had approved the logic in well-timed appointments. What could be delaying them now? This visit was at their unexpected request.

Next to Kirk, Spock’s head was tilted as he examined the abstract painting that graced the opposite wall. He didn’t seem to be infected with Kirk’s own impatience. After forty years of practicing the ways of control, he didn’t allow his anxieties to show.

The rain pelted against the window as the wind gusted outside, and the energy of the elements pushed Kirk into action, too. He abandoned his pretense at contentment, jerked up off the couch and stalked across the room.

He forced himself to focus on the view outside: past the weeping, rain-streaked windowpane, to the two trees with a few leaves clinging to their branches, to a hurrying pedestrian. But the static visages of three-story brownstone houses with their attendant shops at street level could not capture his attention for long, and eventually he saw something else, a distorted reflection in the glass: his Vulcan, lean and dark and handsome in his blue and black dress uniform, sitting in silence and pretending to examine a third-rate work of art to which he wouldn’t have given a second glance at any other time.

Kirk watched as a raindrop streaked down the window, splitting his former first officer’s image into blurry halves. He frowned at the overt symbolism. It didn’t mean a thing. He’d learned long ago that worrying didn’t contribute to the solution of a problem. Or to put it another way, a different way from his but no less valuable: It is illogical to speculate. What is, is. Cor yhr mahr.

Better to focus his attention on the positive. Debriefing and separation were almost over. Another week, maybe two, then the Prime Directive Committee would release its official report, and he and Spock would be free to start new assignments and new lives, the bridges they both had to cross before time found them again together on a refitted Enterprise. Thirty-two months at least she’d be in drydock, with the possibility of the new transwarp engines at the end, and when she left on a new mission Kirk intended to be in the command seat with Spock by his side again. Why not? Nogura and the gray-haired officers on the Assignment Board would come to see the logic in it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the chirp of his communicator.

“Kirk here.”

“Andersen here, Kirk. No thanks to you, I’ve managed to rearrange some of those interviews you canceled on me. Li from The Shanghai Express at 1745, then Randolph from The Galactic News at eighteen hundred Paris time. Two short exclusives. I’ll have one of my people meet you when you beam over. You will be here, right? No more changes?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. Andersen out.”

He slapped the communicator back on his belt with unnecessary force. PR gave him a headache. He rotated his neck and reached up to massage the tight muscles there.

It was a relief when Spock spoke, his words pulling Kirk away from his contemplations.

“I am concerned that our choice to schedule this consultation today was a mistake, especially if the healers do not see us soon. You have but a few hours before the promotion ceremony, and it may have been wiser—”

Kirk stopped him with a fierce look. “Spock.”

“Yes, Jim?”

“Don’t be stupid. It doesn’t become you.”

A light appeared in his Vulcan’s eyes, and Kirk returned the smile with a small one of his own. The top layer of his anxiety, the part that had kept him silent, evaporated.

“You know,” he said conversationally, leaning against the windowsill and gripping it lightly from behind, “I think my mother was impressed by you. It helps that I’ve been telling her lies all these years, that you’re the best thing since the Guttenberg press.”

“It is difficult to understand how you can gauge her opinion from the short lunch the three of us shared weeks ago. And considering your mother’s background in journalism, I fear that she will become disappointed upon closer acquaintance.”

The human’s eyes softened. “Not a chance.”

A gust of wind drove rain against the glass, in the same way that small asteroids had once pelted the shields of their ship. Spock spoke over the rising weather.

“Your mother will be able to join us after the ceremony tonight for a late dinner?”

“Uh-huh. She’s over in Prague at some media conference anyway, so it’s a short trip for her to Paris and then back. I’ve got reservations for midnight at a restaurant I’ve been to before. Small and quiet, on the Seine, where I hope the reporters will leave us in peace.”

“And you still plan to speak to her concerning our relationship tonight?”

“I think it’s only right, don’t you? Before we move in together.”

“I concur. However, I cannot help but speculate that your mother’s reaction might not be as positive as you anticipate.”

“Don’t worry about her. Her life is Kirk Communications, her small group of newspapers, and she hasn’t meddled in my life in years. She’ll ask if I’m happy, say congratulations, and then it’ll be back to work for her. Mom’s a workaholic.”

“Like her son?”

Kirk laughed quietly. “Not exactly. Wait until you get to know her better, you’ll see. I think I know how to relax. If I ever get the chance.”

A short silence. Kirk listened to the raindrops, turned around to watch the rain again, and thought of how long it had been since he and Spock had managed to relax together.

Starfleet Command separated captains and first officers to grill them over the five years they’d spent together in space—to ensure an honest appraisal of all mission assignments—so he and Spock had rarely been in the same room or even the same building when they faced questions from boards of sober-faced commodores and admirals. Fortunately, Starfleet PR, as directed from the CinC’s office, saw things differently. At least some of Kirk’s media interviews and public appearances had been in Spock’s company, especially in the past month. “Part of the spin for this campaign is to push you two as a team,” Commodore Andersen had told them shamelessly. “It’s effective ammunition against the arguments of the Eternists. The different races of the Federation working together on a starship—that’s what we want to present.” And though Kirk had grown sick of the sight of his own face on the holovids, he had to acknowledge the public seemed to be lapping it up. The previous day he’d been told that Starfleet approval ratings were on the rise, and if that meant the anti-alien, secessionist movements of the Eternists could be checked, then he’d smile at even more cameras.

But not right now. He looked again at the reflection in the window, his gaze resting hungrily on the strong profile of his lover. Exactly how his ideal sex partner had changed from petite, intelligent and blonde to tall, intelligent and strong, he wasn’t quite sure. From female to male. How could it be? But now it felt right, it was settled in his mind, in the memories that his body carried. The warmth of a woman’s breast against his tongue, the heft of it in his palm, those experiences seemed very long ago. The last two years on the ship, with Spock by his side on the bridge, on landing parties, and next to him in bed—they’d been good. Even with all that had happened to them, still very good, and so much better than `being alone or not sharing in Spock’s intimate life. Go back to being friends only? Never.

But that’s how the last three months had felt. He’d been pursuing his relationship with Spock in front of holocameras, for God’s sake, and he was sick of it. He needed something more. It wasn’t just the sex. They’d managed to find time and privacy a few times away from Starfleet’s and the public’s demands. Twice in New York, once in Salzburg, again in New Delhi, and they’d been hot and sweaty and erotic encounters, memorable enough for comfort during the lonely nights in between, but though his physical tension had been temporarily eased, he needed more.

Better not to think about it. Only a few more weeks, things were starting to fall into place, they’d have their new assignments confirmed soon, maybe tonight when Nogura—

Spock spoke again. “I have been considering the question of our joint accommodation after debriefing.”

That brought Kirk around again. “Good, me too. Did you see the realtor’s simulations?”

“Last night after I arrived back from Singapore.”

“I liked the condo on Duke Street, or the townhouse in this neighborhood, though it’s more than we really need.”

“I prefer the townhouse. We could walk to the transporter station, and there is ground transportation nearby as well. I also prefer three bedrooms over two.”

“And the two story arrangement, so we won’t get into each other’s way.”

“Are you already concerned about excessive proximity?”

“Not likely. But call me realistic. We’ll both need some space of our own. We could have one of the bedrooms for us, one for guests, and turn the other into an office. I thought it was big enough for that, didn’t you?”

Spock nodded. “More than adequate. You would be able to use the back room on the lower floor for your own office needs, and I will take the second floor location. I am, however, concerned that the house may not still be available.”

Kirk snorted. “At that price? It’ll be there.”

“Let us presume so. However....”

“What?”

“I wish to be certain that you have not reconsidered this course of action. It is not strictly necessary for us to cohabitate—”

Another fierce look. “Spock.”

The amusement sprang more easily to the dark eyes this time. “Yes, Jim.”

“It still doesn’t become you. Besides, we agreed on this back on the ship. Are you getting cold feet?”

Pointedly Spock stretched his long legs out before him, considering his shining boots with a curious air, and Kirk laughed.

“I guess that means ‘No,’ right?”

“I have observed,” Spock said, tucking his feet back where they belonged, “that Standard can be most imprecise at times. Allow me to clarify. My desire to share a dwelling with you while we are posted on Earth has not changed. It has increased in direct proportion to the time that we have been housed in separate quarters during debriefing. Has your opinion changed?”

“Hell, no. You know I’ve missed you, too.”

“Then let us speak to the realtor at the earliest opportunity. I am required in London for the next three days, but there is some flexibility in my hours. What would your schedule allow?”

Kirk spread his hands with frustration. “I don’t know, I’m so booked up they’ve got an ensign at my elbow to get me from one debriefing to the next interview to the next meeting with one ’fleet board or another. Not tomorrow. Or the next day. Maybe the day after that? In the evening. I think I’m available after 1900 hours. If the powers that be don’t want me someplace else. Would that work for you?”

But before Spock could reply, the door to the interior of the suite opened, and a very short, elderly Vulcan wearing black pants and a long-sleeved black tunic stepped forward. He bowed his head and the tip of his gray beard disappeared into his chest.

“Captain Kirk? Commander Spock? I regret the necessity of delaying our consultation.”

Spock stood and raised his hand in the taal. “Peace and long life, Sluman.” Kirk straightened and nodded.

“Yes,” Sluman said. “Peace is what we all seek, what we seek for you in particular.” He turned and walked along a hallway, and after a moment of silence Kirk gestured for Spock to follow him first.

From their previous visits Kirk had discovered that the suite didn’t appear to be a conventional medical facility, although Vulcans were as capable of treating ills of the body through invasive surgical procedures as any other species. Many healers were skilled surgeons.

They passed the two innocuous examining rooms he and Spock had been in before, passed a room filled with computer and other equipment, walked by a bathroom and a storage closet. Finally, at the end of the hallway, Sluman led them to a cramped, white-walled room where four chairs faced each other and took up most of the space. A window set high in the opposite wall revealed the ragged branches of an oak tree, dripping with the autumn downpour. T’Braggia, the slight, stooped-shouldered bondmate of Sluman and also a healer, stood just inside the room. She bowed as they entered, then silently left. Under the window, turning to look at them, was another, unfamiliar, Vulcan.

Sluman spoke. “This is Versin Z’mastlxpz, master healer from the facility at Golgotharen. He is the possibility of which I spoke during our last communication. You are fortunate that he has come to Earth to consult with the physicians at Johns Hopkins University on a rare visit. He has abilities I lack. At my request and with your permission, he has consented to participate in Spock’s treatment.”

Here was another male Vulcan whose name did not start with the ubiquitous “S,” only the second one whom Kirk had ever met. Kirk examined him, inclined to favor anyone who could offer them help. He was a contrast to the older healer: in all-white tunic and pants, taller than Spock by several centimeters, very thin where Sluman’s torso had slumped into the fleshiness of advanced age. Sluman’s hair was thinning, but Versin’s was black and bushy and hid the tips of his pointed ears. The two healers could not have been less alike.

Versin raised his hand and managed to make it look like an energetic gesture. “Peace and long life, Spock.” He spoke Standard quickly and with no discernible accent.

“Live long and prosper,” Spock responded.

Versin jerked his head up and to the right, a Vulcan mannerism that conveyed cursory acknowledgment and sometimes dismissal. Back in the days when he had been absorbing Vulcan language and customs through melds, Kirk had learned such things. He was not sure that he liked to see such a gesture directed towards Spock.

But Versin’s penetrating gaze immediately focused on him. “You are the human.”

How many times had Kirk’s mother briskly said It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it? It was the way this Vulcan said human that put the frown on Kirk’s face and made the back of his neck tingle. But maybe the healer wasn’t as aware of the emotional consequences of his inflection as a native-speaker would be.

Kirk nodded. “Yes. James Kirk.” He didn’t bother with the gesture of greeting.

Sluman put in, “Perhaps you have seen Captain Kirk on the video presentations. He has been much interviewed by the news media since the arrival of his ship, the Enterprise. Spock as well.”

Versin seemed not to have heard and addressed Kirk again. “You are the one who is conducting a sexual liaison with Spock in the human fashion, using only the body and with no ties of commitment to bind you?”

Kirk decided that he definitely did not like this healer. What did this being, whoever he might be, whatever powers he might possess, know about what he and Spock shared, what bound them one to the other?

Spock responded before Kirk could. “In its most elementary aspects, it is correct to say that Captain Kirk and I share a sexual relationship. There is an emotional component as well.”

The healer cut one hand through the air. “Of that I have no interest. It is against Vulcan and to be avoided. However, your case is an interesting one, and examining it would add to the database I am attempting to compile. Regardless of my judgment that the path you have chosen is illogical, and your alliance with the human especially so, I choose to participate in your attempted rehabilitation. Be seated. I will explain further.”

They sat, the two healers with little wasted motion, the two lovers slowly, exchanging looks as they took chairs next to one another. The quarters were so close that Kirk had to sit very straight to prevent clashing with Versin’s knees.

“Golgotharen is an orbital facility specializing in the treatment of diseases of the mind among Vulcans,” Versin began. “I have been master healer there for seven Vulcan years. That is six point six one years in human terms, Captain Kirk.”

There was a pause that Versin obviously expected him to fill. “Yes, I know,” Kirk said.

“I have never treated a being with a disability such as Spock’s; it is most unusual. However, I have considerable experience with other mental dysfunctions suffered by Vulcans. I have examined the file. Spock, you lost all psychic abilities when you were attacked?”

“Yes,” Spock said evenly, as if his equanimity now could deny the turbulent emotion and the pain of the past year. His hands rested quietly in his lap. “I have been unable to initiate or sustain melds, have not been able to exercise specific control over my body, have not been able to heal myself, have had to compensate for sensory perceptions in a way that is less than optimum. However, I did regain my time sense nine weeks and two days after the initial dysfunction.”

“No improvement since that time?”

“Correct.”

“Sluman told me that despite your apparent mind blindness, you experienced contact shortly after the attack.”

“Affirmative. One of the members of a group-mind, a leader named Gri-Ta, was able to communicate with me non-verbally three times. The third time she pulled two humans, Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy, into a shared mental experience.”

“Yet no other healer has duplicated the contact.”

Kirk offered, “We’ve been to an Andorian exchanger, a human neurologist, and another Vulcan healer besides Sluman. Nobody’s been able to touch his mind.”

Versin’s glance flicked off the surface of Kirk’s dress uniform. It clearly said: unimportant. He returned his quicksilver gaze to Spock and arrowed another question at him.

“Theorize. What made the union with this Gri-Ta possible?”

Spock spoke slowly but steadily. “I was sensitized by the needs of the body. The first contact was immediately before an out-of-season pon farr, the second,” a perceptible pause, “during the mating experience, the third immediately after.”

Silence, broken only by the passing of a ground car on the wet street outside. Kirk stared down at the gray squares of the tiled floor.

The mating experience. Three words to describe the glory of finding his lover in the desert of the mind, barely alive yet waiting for the nourishment that only their mental joining could give. It was profanity to speak of that most private experience to others, and Kirk hated doing so as much as Spock must hate it. But to give back to his lover his unique Vulcan life, he would talk about anything, encourage Spock to talk about even this.

The strained silence must have lasted a full ten seconds—forty-four Vulcan dranaths, Kirk translated defiantly—when Versin said in a harsh voice, “You must not speak of it before this outworlder—”

Spock squared his shoulders. “Versin, you must be aware that I joined with Captain Kirk in my Time. He is already fully cognizant of the ravages of the pon farr, for I inflicted them upon him. There is nothing to hide for he knows it all. To pretend a discretion that is not needed would be illogical.”

“Do not lecture me of logic, Spock. You have turned from many of the disciplines, and I— “ The patient did not give the healer a chance to finish.

“Do you wish to treat me, Versin?”

Versin allowed signs of his annoyance to be expressed: a tightening of the muscles of his jaw and between his eyes, a shifting of his lanky frame. “I have said it. Data provided from your case may be useful.”

Not: you are a sentient being whom I wish to help. Not: you suffer and I can alleviate your suffering. Instead: useful data. No other doctor had been so cold, not even the other healer and certainly not Sluman. Kirk wished he knew the bio-feedback mechanisms to regulate his blood pressure, and thought of McCoy instead. Bones would have had a fit during this interview.

“I wish to contribute that data,” Spock said. “However, Captain Kirk is my chosen partner, and that must be accepted by all. Let us move to other subjects.”

Versin nodded. “Speak to me of this Gri-Ta. She appears to have considerable psychic gifts.”

“Yes. However, her orientation as an individual being was quite different from our own. She is primarily of the group mind.”

“She was unable to help you further? Did she make the attempt?”

“Yes, she tried but was unsuccessful. However, she believed that it was possible that all my psychic abilities or some part of them would eventually return, spontaneously, although it was equally likely that they would not. She based her belief on the bond that had begun to grow between the captain and myself. Some part of it must still exist, or I would not have been drawn to him during the time of my need.”

“The bond. You are certain it existed, that a spontaneous bond came into existence between you and this psi-null being?”

“Affirmative. It was rudimentary in nature when it was destroyed, but it did exist.”

“If such is the case, I agree with Gri-Ta’s hypothesis. If a beginning bond functioned during the extremities of your Time, then other aspects of your psychic abilities may also be present, although hidden.”

Sluman spoke. “I concur. I searched for evidence during my initial attempts at joining with the patient, but I was unable to confirm my theory. There was no true contact. Spock’s mind is impermeable; primarily, the psychic indexing centers of the hippocampus appeared to be non-functioning. I considered recommending that he go to Vulcan for further examination when I learned that you would be on Earth. You are far more suited to examine him than I.”

“Agreed,” Versin said, acknowledging what was only logical. “However, my reflection on the problem does not initially lead me to wish to examine Spock as you did. You and others have done so and discovered only residual energy. I consider a different approach.” The bushy-haired Vulcan looked directly at Kirk. “I will meld with you, Captain Kirk.”

Surprise swept up Kirk’s spine, pulling him straight. “Me?”

“Yes. The roots of this so-called bond, or perhaps merely a link, may be present within you. If it does indeed exist in some form, I may be able to uncover and stimulate it. Sluman will then attempt to draw Spock into a joint experience as was done before, with my link with you as an inducement towards the autonomic functions of the bond. The link may thus be re-established. Or perhaps not. Spock’s condition is unique and therefore calls for experimental measures. Do you consent?”

“Yes,” Kirk said.

“No,” Spock said just as quickly. “It may be harmful to the captain. I cannot allow such an intrusion. At the least we should delay until we encounter a healer familiar with humans.”

Kirk turned halfway in his seat to face his lover. “I’ll be all right. You know I’ve never had a problem with mental contact.”

“Except that you became overly fatigued during our deepest melds. Do you not remember? We were not able to join as frequently as we wished because of your problems.”

“Of course I remember,” Kirk said sharply. “Do you think I’ve forgotten anything? Anything at all?” He tried to catch his sudden indignation. It wasn’t Spock with whom he was angry. “I remember,” he said softly. “And I know that problem was early in our relationship. You adapted and so did I. It got better. With only one meld with Versin, I shouldn’t have a problem.”

“The human will not come to harm.”

“Captain Kirk is due to participate in the Federation Day ceremonies in fewer than three point two hours,” Spock said. “It is inappropriate for us to jeopardize such an important—”

Kirk touched the sleeve of the blue tunic, enough to stop the flow of words. “Spock,” he said, and for a moment he simply lived within the mystery of the dark gaze. There had been a time when he had shared the secrets there, when he had trod the inner landscape of this most extraordinary being’s life.

“I’ll be all right.” He wished they were alone so they could talk about this privately, but they weren’t and the healers were probably not even aware of the emotional necessity. “No one has tried this approach before, at least not since Gri-Ta did. It’s an opportunity we can’t pass up. I’m going to meld with Versin, and it isn’t logical to put this off. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you? More than a year we’ve waited. Now, maybe, there’s a new chance....” He turned back to the healer. “When? Now?”

“There is no logic in waiting.” Versin’s hand rose towards Kirk’s face, but Spock was there, capturing the healer’s fingers before they made contact.

“There is at least logic in caution,” Spock said, then he released the healer. “Have you ever joined with a human before?”

“You overstep your authority, Spock,” Sluman said. “Versin has great skill. You need not fear for your partner.”

“And I have experience in melding with humans. I have done so with many individuals, and it is only appropriate that I present my accumulated information.”

Versin’s face froze, a Vulcan’s substitute for frowning. Slowly, the healer’s hand returned to his lap. “This is logical. Proceed.”

“I warn you, Versin, to avoid confrontation with the ego center. Humans do not react well to it. A gradual approach is best during the period of stabilization, although later full functional integration should be possible. Above all, project using concrete images or the captain will supply them for the experience instead.”

Both healers blinked in understated, astonished unison. Sluman spoke. “That is unlikely with a psi-null being.”

“That is the perceived wisdom, yet I have found it violated on several occasions. The captain is perfectly capable of attempting to control the meld, even if inadvertently, simply through his mind’s need to translate images into familiar constructs.”

“I understand,” Versin said. “You reveal a possible avenue of approach. We should proceed now.”

“Fine,” Kirk replied, jumping in before Spock could come up with another reason for delay. He wanted to do this. “I don’t think I’ll have a problem.”

“Your experience with one to whom you were never properly bonded holds no relevance. This will be different. I suspect the pathways the two of you forged in your lust will be so warped that I will have great difficulty following them. I must not be distracted; therefore, you must be controlled. Will you cooperate?”

Tightening jaw muscles were the only manifestation of his anger that Kirk allowed. Versin with his narrow shoulders, narrow features and even narrower soul was Spock’s last realistic chance. Their last chance. No one had said it, but everyone in this little room knew it. Where else could they go after Versin?

“I’ll cooperate.”

“Very well. We will begin.”

“A moment.” It was Sluman, rising from his seat and inching his way around the chairs towards the door. “If we are successful, then I will need to act as a bridge to Spock as well. This would be better accomplished if I enlist the services of T’Braggia and our fla’arsun. Our apprentice,” he explained to Kirk. “They will act as stabilizers and focal points if we are successful. Wait while I call them.”

A minute later two Vulcan women entered behind the elderly healer. T’Braggia Kirk knew from before. She was as emaciated as Sluman was fleshy, with the bones of her elbows looking sharp enough to pierce her fragile, paper-like skin, but she had the same calm demeanor as her bondmate. She also had that certain spark in her eye that Kirk had found in other beings who were not human but who nevertheless understood the universe in the same ways that he did. It was a similar spark that had arced and sizzled between a determined captain and his focused first officer on the Enterprise five years before.

She too had tried to join with Spock during their second visit, and Kirk liked her because she had been dismayed when her attempt had been unsuccessful. She had actually said I grieve with thee to both of them as her fingers slid from Spock’s face. Perhaps because he liked T’Braggia, he also liked Sluman, and he thought that within the intimacy of their own bonding, which surely had lasted at least two centuries, they must understand the loss he suffered with Spock. The severing of their mental contact reduced them, it left them unlinked except in the human way of love and desire, and he had learned that it was not enough.

Behind T’Braggia was a young Vulcan woman, so young in comparison to the ancient healers that she seemed like a child with her unlined skin taut over pale cheekbones. She bowed in the doorway, her eyes taking in Versin, Sluman, Kirk and then….

When her gaze reached Spock, a small gasp escaped her prim lips. Immediately, she folded her hands within her robe and lowered her head as if in shame.

“T’Genia.” The name was a rebuke from Sluman, who radiated disapproval.

“I beg forgiveness. I should have anticipated the absence of an aura.”

“Indeed, your reaction reveals a lack of forethought, as well as inadequate control before one who requires your assistance. We will discuss this later. For now, you are required as I explained. Take your place.”

T’Genia stood next to T’Braggia, each of them behind Sluman’s chair, and Kirk gave Versin his attention.

Versin’s fingers weren’t long and beautiful as Spock’s were, they were sticks, but they settled just as warmly on the meld points that hadn’t been touched for months. Kirk looked at his—partner, Sluman had called him—at his partner, his life’s partner, and he allowed himself to feel hope that this would work, that when it was over Spock would be himself again. But he didn’t let his hope show, hope had a way of hurting sometimes, so he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the pressure on his temples and cheeks. The healer said loudly, so unlike any mantra Spock had ever used, “My mind to your mind, Kirk. Open to me....”