"You fell asleep."

"I did not," Stamets said as he sat up. "We were just talking."

"Yes, we talked. And then you slept for 27 minutes."

"That's impossible."

"Deep sleep," Culber said. "In the middle of the day."

"I was just.. resting my eyes."

"Lieutenent, you were in REM sleep. That shouldn't happen for ninety minutes."

Stamets wiped at his eyes. It wasn't sleep, it was dust. Space dust.

"What were you dreaming about anyway? It looked intense."

"I don't remember."

It was only half true. Stamets couldn't remember the dream exactly, only a feeling as the last threads fell from his memory. A feeling of being stretched like rubber band from one end of the galaxy to the other. The desire to see more and know more. The burning pain in his arms that felt so real.

Stamets ran his hand over the port to ease the ache.

"Well, we're done here," Dr Culber said. "I finished the tests while you were resting your eyes."

"And?"

The doctor's expression grew concerned.
"It's your brain," he said solemnly.

Culber brought the scans up onto the screen. "There are changes in the structure of your medial temporal lobe."

Stamets looked away.

"Paul, this is serious."

First names at work. This was very serious indeed.

"Are you sure you haven't had any memory issues? Dizziness?" asked Culber. "Because I find it hard to believe that you didn't notice this."

Stamets shook his head.

The doctor let out a long sigh and patted Stamets arm in a comforting gesture. "I'm sorry. I should have noticed this. I should have been taking better care of you."

Stamets finally looked up.
"What are you going to tell the Captain?"

"The truth."