After the Credits: "What Are Little Girls Made Of"

This is an alternate ending to the episode. Instead of Korby and Andrea dematerializing, the bodies are salvaged.

Christine Chapel stood outside the morgue aboard Enterprise, hoping that no one, especially Leonard McCoy showed up unexpectedly. She had to see Roger-or what was supposed to have been Roger- one last time.

She input her ID code in the panel beside the door. It slid open almost soundlessly, revealing gleaming stainless steel drawers and two gurneys side by side, both bodies covered with sheets bearing the emblem of the United Federation of Planets. Of course, there would be an autopsy, even if they were androids. Scientists all over the Federation would want to study how the great Roger Korby managed to incorporate his consciousness into a machine body. Hell, for that matter, so would she.

An engineering crew, hand-picked by Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott, had dismantled the ancient machine which Roger had used and stored it in one of the shuttle bays to be left at Star Base 13, along with the bodies. She had taken two days to work up the courage to come down here, to see him one last time. Had waited until the ship was within hours of 13. To see for herself that it wasn't really Roger. Had never been Roger. Roger was dead. She wanted to try to understand how he could have fooled her. Why hadn't she noticed before his irrational and violent behavior? Before he'd tried to kill her captain.

How long Korby had been 'dead,' no one would technically know until his logs and records were reviewed and analyzed. Christine wondered if she would ever know; would they tell her if she asked, or would it be classified. She supposed it really didn't matter. After all dead was dead. But she'd like to know exactly when in her 'mission' to find him, he had ceased to be. When she could have stopped and it would have been all right. Would she have even had to sign on to Starfleet? Could she have finished her PhD and been teaching at a prestigious university job somewhere? Had a family, been married? A sob caught in her throat and she covered her mouth with her hand. What all had she lost?

Christine felt cold. It was cold in the room, for obvious reasons. Reasons that had nothing to do with the two androids on the table. Android bodies didn't rot, not even androids with consciousness.

She moved to one of the chairs and sat down, staring at the shapes under the shrouds. Christine shuddered, "Oh, God," she thought. "I almost—, " she couldn't finish the thought. What if she'd slept with him? She shivered and this time not from the cold. But her next thought was then would I have noticed?

Well, let's find out, shall we, she thought. Rising from the chair, she took a pair of gloves from a drawer in a portable workstation near the gurney. She pulled the sheet back without hesitation. Her dead finance's face stared straight up at the ceiling. His blue eyes (not his eyes, she reminded herself) were open and not even growing opaque the way a real corpse's would have already. The body was naked, but she only pulled the cover down to his waist for now.

Taking his head first, she checked his scalp, ears, eyes, gently opened his mouth; there wasn't even an odor, she noticed. Moving down, she felt down his neck, lifted each arm and continued with this ritual until she had covered every inch of his upper body. Doubly checking the phaser burn where wires and circuits were brutally exposed. Where there should have been blood and tissue damage, there was the smell of shorted out circuitry.

The tall blond stood straight up, her gloved hands held in front of her as if waiting for an order from Dr. McCoy to continue with a surgical procedure. But there was no life here to be saved, unless it was hers.