[USS Charon, Brig]
It was not until she examined the particularly unnerving memory of the arboretum and her very real, violent desire to inflict physical harm on another of her kind that forced her to admit to things she never would outside the privacy of her own thoughts, that something else caught her attention.
The familiar, and completely unexpected sensation of an Other … reaching.
Startled and furious, Sakarra tried to gather her thoughts – how dare he. How DARE … no, it could not be. No other Vulcan would violate the sanctity of her meditation, take advantage in this way. But there was no doubt. Too intimately recognized was this … intrusion to be mistaken for aught but what it was. But there was something odd about it as well and it only fueled the young woman's confusion. Yes, it was a he, but reaching tentatively, unsure, almost like a child attempting to find the first path laid by a guide.
She should not have hesitated.
The realization came right on the heels of the other having found the thin thread and followed it to its source, drawing close, propelled by ancient instinct, and crashing into her mind with both unskilled and unfettered enthusiasm.
Flooded with a near painful wave of sensation as the untrained mind offered all of itself at once, Sakarra exhaled through gritted teeth and at the same instant … knew him.
What?
Composing herself with monumental effort, she tried to shield him from the inevitable shock, tried to steady herself before being able to hold on to the thread and gather the other mind, hold it safe, but it was too late. Violently and painfully, the brief link was severed as the other withdrew in shock, shaken to the core. And for long seconds, Sakarra fared not much better, unprepared and unshielded as she had been. When finally she felt it was safe to surface from her once more tightly established shields, she blinked rapidly and realized her hand had withdrawn from Lamont and her clenched fists were resting in her lap.
But he was in terrible distress.
"Mr Lamont."
His green eyes were filled with near panic, looking to her for reassurance, explanation, anything.
"Ian."
Her own voice echoed strangely in her ears, soft, even, melodious, with the unmistakable timbre of she who was her foremother.
Right. Get a grip.
"Breathe."
With the utmost care, almost tenderly, she reached out and held on to the shaken human's shoulders. He did not resist, but it would still be rude to access his pressure points without explicit permission, even with the best of intentions, so she relied on the simple fact that touch often was comforting all in itself to one of his kind.
Only … there was more to him, wasn't there? Fascinating. But a puzzle for another time.
"Breathe, Mr Lamont. Let it pass."
Ian only nodded in response unable to speak as his overburdened mind struggled to both protect itself and process the intense experience that had just befallen him. His body crawled with sensations each pouring into the other as anger, fear, panic, uncertainly, love, and hate rushed, pulsated, and bubbled throughout his every cell. So shocked by what had occurred he couldn't be sure what he was feeling or if the feelings were actually his. Was this his unconscious self he had somehow touched? Was there such a thing as delving too far into one's own psyche? He didn't know and could not ponder such questions his body attempting to cope with the electric effects of reaching out and touching the unknown.
Slowly and painfully so, Ian's breath finally steadied as the rapid pounding in his ears faded. Looking deeply into Sakarra's eyes his own filled with painful confusion he attempted to again speak, but was still unable to utter more than something incoherent. He feared for his mental stability if Sakarra had no answers to offer him to the questions he could not yet speak. So violent and raw was this experience that he was terrified to learn the truth if indeed this was something of his own doing.
Practically shivering, Lamont took several unsteady, deep breaths. The shock finally faded leaving him with a searing memory as if an atom bomb had somehow detonated within his soul the flash scorching everything in its path. As the physical symptoms subsided he was left with a tangled cloud of intense emotions and feelings he could not interpret. For the moment he was too exhausted and too fearful to attempt to investigate the phenomenon further.
Reaching up between the Vulcan's own arms on his shoulders he placed one hand on Sakarra's shoulder and simply nodded indicating he was alright. A few more moments passed and he finally felt himself released from the overwhelming grip which had nearly immobilized him.
"Wh…what happened", he asked his voice weak as searching for something, anything within the depths of the Vulcan's eyes to explain what he had just endured and for which he had no words to describe. It had been unlike anything he had ever felt or experienced.
He held on to her like a man drowning, and Sakarra could hardly blame him. Having anticipated the touch, it did not hurt and there was sufficient fabric between them to prevent another accidental .. spark, but she nonetheless sat perfectly still.
"As unlikely as it may seem, Ian Lamont, …" the young woman breathed deeply, pondering how to explain without unsettling him further "… you appear to have succeeded in establishing a telepathic link and have touched a Vulcan's unshielded mind. How this came to pass, I can only theorize."
Just as she could only speculate what he might have seen – or felt. Having been thoroughly unbalanced by the sudden intrusion herself, it could have been … anything. She did not relish the thought, and would in fact have felt quite humiliated, not to mention violated, had she allowed for such a thing. It was illogical in either case, there had been no ill intent on the ambassador's part and the experience had clearly shaken him terribly.
"I was unsettled … and unprepared. Still, it is no excuse. I should have been faster in my attempt to shield you. Please forgive me."
Rather than incline her head as was proper when offering such a profound apology, Sakarra held his gaze, seeking a flash of comprehension. There was reason to fear she might have done damage, thrown the other into such terrible distress he could not surface without help, and indeed he seemed to be tethering at the brink of the abyss.
But she was not certain. Could not be certain how he had done it. There was always the possibility of a human harboring dormant telepathic abilities which could manifest at random – it had happened before. How could she explain to him what she herself could not put a name to yet?
Still, instinct alone insisted there had been something remarkably ... familiar … about this incident.
He struggled to comprehend her words awash in an unforgiving ocean of feelings and disorientation. No. No it wasn't possible. She had somehow done this to him. But why? What did she hope to gain?
He coughed several times as his chest contracted making breathing difficult as his entire body fought the waves of shock rippling through it. Looking up he caught her dark, patient eyes watching his own. They were thoughtful, caring eyes and he saw no malice, no agendas. She was a friend genuinely concerned about his well being.
It wasn't possible. Was it? Could she actually be correct? As improbable and inconvenient as it seemed Ian was forced to accept Sakarra's words.
"No apologies needed commander", he said with labored breath. "If what you say is true then it is I who should be apologizing." Ian despite his extreme discomfort managed a weak smile. "Forgive me teacher. It was my first time." The tiny joke helped ease the sensations within him.
He closed his eyes and despite a strong sense of fear attempted to again reach that quiet place within he had reached only a few moments before. With some effort he succeeded and slid into the quiet darkness. He could see a swirling cloud in the distance, but dared not approach. Beyond, yet again was the unknown thread far, distant and now seemingly unreachable.
He withdrew from them both and focused only on the silence around him. He felt the black around him swallow him wrapping him in warmth as everything around him disappeared. Like the effects of a transporter beam everything faded as sights, sounds, and feeling was replaced by tranquil nothingness.
His hand slid from Sakarra's shoulder and the ambassador slumped forward falling into the arms of the Vulcan who gently caught him. Sleep had claimed the ambassador for now as his body shut itself down both to repair, cope, and assimilate the experience of touching the mind of another. Safe within the realm of dreams, Lamont peacefully rested in the Vulcan's arms.
[To be continued …]
Ambassador Ian Lamont
And
Lt. Commander Sakarra Tyrax
