For no reason at all, so far as Young could tell, Rush was in the neural interface.

Again.

A silent group of five or so onlookers milled about the room – Eli was glued to the console, Greer had his gun just in case, and TJ was staring straight ahead at Rush's unconscious form, First Aid kit poised and ready.

Young was just pissed.

"Seriously," he said. "The next time this happens, we're pulling the plug."

Those who could afford to look up gave him disbelieving glares.

"I mean it! He's wasting resources!"

Or something. It didn't really matter what the details were when he could complain about Rush.

"Well," said Eli, "I think I got this figured out. His brain waves are still responsive, so he hasn't uploaded his consciousness again. But –"

Suddenly, Destiny pitched and the lights overhead flickered. Everyone grabbed onto the nearest console/wall/Greer and held on for dear life.

A bright flash of light blinded them. Then –

The sunspots faded, and Rush was gone.

"TJ," said Young softly, staring at what had taken the scientist's place, "what the hell?"

"I … I don't know, sir."

Blinking up at them was a thin, long-nosed, six-year-old boy.