JP: Commodore Taybrim + Lt Commander DeVeau - Telepathic Communication Part 1
Jamie LeBlanc
Tatash had left. Solaris had left. All who remained were Sal and Alora. The first officer watched as silver doors closed behind the silver haired woman, then let her clear, verdant gaze slide back over to the man across from her. His face was solemn, for the seriousness of what was happening coiled the expression into something far less pleasant than cheerfulness. They were not quite done, however. Offering information, Tatash had refused, Solaris had received. Alora had agreed, but had yet to be given. It was her turn.
DeVeau: I suppose that leaves me.
Sal gazed evenly at Alora, trying to balance her words with her expression and his empathy. There was still that strange disconnect between them, the one that he was not pushing but could still feel and noticed.
Taybrim: Are you sure? You seem… reluctant?
Was that a good word for it?
That elicited some surprise. Had her reticence been interpreted as such? Alora supposed she couldn’t fault him for that. A small, slow smile slipped over her lips and she leaned forward, offering her hands. There was no hesitation there now, alone with him in the silence of the room. She knew what she was about to receive was grave and alarming, but she was willing. Her hesitation had been born of other things. For her, she had needed time. Time to think. Time to prepare. And thus, while Solaris had received the content which Taybrim had so willingly given, she had done so. Now she was ready, and there was no fear, nor concern.
DeVeau: I am not afraid. And you don’t have to be worried. It will be fine.
Sal took in a long, slow breath. He would say that he was not worried, but there was always some tiny part of him that worried. In many ways having his own telepathy damaged made him far more aware of what it was and how it could be used both for good and ill. It was something he never thought about in his youth because everything had come easily to him and he had been arrogantly confident about his abilities.
Sometimes he hated that his telepathy was no longer as keen as it once had been and sometimes he felt that he had learned an important lesson about what it was and had grown from it. Usually the latter, but that thread of worry still remained.
Taybrim: Then let us meet mind to mind.
He reached out, and their hands came together. The connection to her was immediate, easy. Her mind was a silver moon among a sky of stars, brilliant and glowing, dimming the other pinpricks of light that attempted to shine in the darkness. It welcomed him, like the arms of a lover, drawing his mind into its embrace, catching him in a cloud of silk. Compared to others, she was a flame, one that drew the moths to it, calling, enticing, tempting. Unlike that flame, her touch did not burn, but rather caressed, the gentle whisper of fingers against the face, a cool refreshing breeze on a scorching summer day.
Yet within that pleasant and tender consciousness, there was an undercurrent of power and skill. He was welcome indeed, his ability to connect with her effortless for her receptiveness was unparalleled, tempting, and inviting, but he was in her mind, and there, she was in control. There, too, a ripple of eagerness flowed, of joy at the touch of another psyche joining with hers, a desire for their connection to linger, to remain, and disappointed at the knowledge that it was done for such a heart-heavy reason and would soon be ended. Sighing softly, she reached out before he had the chance to.
DeVeau: ~I feel you.~
Surprise rippled through his consciousness. Connection has been so difficult with anyone other than another of his own species since the accident. Surprise slowly gave way to a gentle, dawning pleasure - that unusual, but wonderful feeling of having something back that you had lost a long time ago. It was almost addictive.
Taybrim: ~I can hear you.~ ::His telepathic voice was gentle, like a soft summer breeze.::
DeVeau: ~I’ve missed this…~
The admission came, borne out of sorrow, and she quickly pushed it back. That was not what he had come for, nor why she was allowed to connect with him in such a manner, but there was truth to it.
Taybrim: ~I sympathize.~ Not just empathize, but he felt in a similar way. ~I have missed this too.~
She wanted to abide in that connection, remain in that meeting of minds. For all of her adult life, Alora had been friends with those of similar abilities, had come to enjoy their mental touch, and looked forward to it. It had been almost a year since a mind had joined with hers, and it was an absolute delight to do so again.
Yet, the road built between them was temporary, and for a purpose. As much as Alora would have wanted it otherwise, they could not change reality. Best to do it.
DeVeau: ~Show me?~
His mind sobered, focusing once again on the job at hand and started to sift through the stock of information he had stored mentally. While his projective telepathy was weak, Sal Taybrim’s mental shielding was extremely strong. It was like moving through well ordered corridors of mental organization, with doors opening giving sneak peaks of information inside.
Taybrim: ~Tell me if the information comes too fast. I need you to process it and understand it as it comes to you.~
DeVeau: ~I will.~
It started. Slow, controlled. Names, faces, images. Ships, places, registries. Things that had been sifted through and organized with painstaking work.
And there, again, the strangeness of Alora’s mind came to light once more. Strange for a non telepath. Her experiences, her training, everything she’d been through had molded her psyche in ways quite unusual for someone not born with such abilities. Once, her natural telepathic attractiveness had been a detriment, a danger, something that another entity had taken advantage of, leaving deep wounds. Yet, as with all things, time had a way of healing, and with help, those wounds had healed. Though there were scars, they were strong, reinforcing certain aspects of her mind.
Afterward, fate had set her down on a road not only of recovery, but of strengthening. First Saveron, then Raissa. Even Kestra had gotten involved, adding to, reinforcing, aiding whenever they met. Finally, Kalin. He had taken the stone wall and turned it into a duranium fortress, building that strength, teaching, molding, determined to make sure she had skills and abilities beyond those of non natural telepaths, and resolute that she would be able to withstand any further attempts at mental assault. At first, a sense of duty had spurred it, but eventually love had motivated him beyond anything else.
There were other benefits too, and while Alora’s abilities were limited to her own mental realm, it was her kingdom. Anything that entered into it was subject to her will, and as all those who knew her came to find out, hers was strong. Ashley had experienced first hand the power of it. It was what had helped her break the grip of the Kindred. It was what had kept her pushing through the darkness that threatened to consume her, though at times they might get the upper hand temporarily. It was what had convinced Kalin that he could teach her and she could withstand. It allowed her, too, a different way of handling what Sal was now giving her. Unlike with others, she accepted the information with an ease not of natural birth, but of careful cultivation and practise.
Names, faces, images. Ships, places, registries. Each was taken, turned over in her mind, filed carefully away in memory, placed in easy access. The Cult. She knew them. Would recognise them - thanks to Sal.
And yet, something else was there, though Alora knew not what. As the transfer of information came to an end, their connection lingered, and her mind touch was gentle as she queried.
DeVeau: ~You’re holding back.~
Sal paused, both physically and mentally, frozen for a moment, wondering perhaps if his shielding had failed him in some way.
Taybrim: ~I distilled the information to a clean form~
He started, trying to offer explanations. Truthful explanations, but still explanations. It wasn’t just a full offering, it was distilled, sterilized, and sifted through.
DeVeau: ~Why?~
He still had enough control of his telepathy that word did not bubble into the link unbidden. But empathy did. Because he cared for others. Because he was willing to shoulder a burden to spare them pain. Because he was worried about what would happen if he unleashed the original version upon someone’s mind.
But control won out. Clear words formed in the link offering, again, an academic explanation.
Taybrim: ~Because the original thoughts were ripped from a cruel, dying mind. They are suffused with emotion, pain, confusion and violence. They are difficult to process, the information is hard to find when given in that manner.~
There it was, a reason for his hesitation, for the carefully prescribed pieces that had been presented to her. That was not how he had received them. No, what he had been given had been a nightmare in comparison, at least from what she could gather from what he told her and the hint of emotion that had accompanied it. It was a burden that had been passed to him, and one he had used to place himself on an island. A burden he bore by himself. It wasn’t something he should have to shoulder alone.
DeVeau: ~Share with me?~
That made him blink. On an academic level that was terribly inefficient. It had been difficult for him to sort through the information in a digestible fashion. In a useful fashion. For the first month or two he would simply get a sense of deja vu and his skin would crawl when he saw a name or a face or a reference and he would have to meditate and sift through the shared thoughts to dig down and find out the relevant information.
Taybrim: ~Share what part?~
DeVeau: ~All of it. Everything. As you received it, as it was given. ~
He frowned, partly through worry, partly with that scientific reasoning about efficacy. Despite never being a good science officer, he had been trained as a scientist and had served as a science officer. He still had the processes of scientific reasoning to lean upon.
Taybrim: ~It is detrimental for processing the information. It took me months to sift through it and pull the information from the experience. To make it useable for others.~
Useable and safe.
DeVeau: ~It’s a terrible burden.~
She could feel his heart pinch and his mental control tighten. For someone with broken telepathy it was only broken in the projective and receptive sense. His own internal mental control was formidable. Impressive even.
Taybrim: ~It is my burden to bear. I would share it later after we no longer need the clarity of the information. I have already taken the time to process it.~
There was not a specific word that gave indication of her acquiescence, more of a emotional letting go, even if the desire still lingered.
His next question was soft, almost plaintive.
Taybrim: ~Why? Why would you wish to take this on yourself?~
DeVeau: ~Because.~
There was a sigh, mental and physical, the two coming together in unison. Why would she? It was a fair question, a very good question. There were several answers to it. Because she felt she could bear it. Horror and torment, she’d experienced those, several torturous events had scarred her. She’d been to hell and back, passed through the flames that attempted to burn, and couldn’t imagine anything worse than what she’d already known. Most importantly, however, there was another reason. The words, she gave, indicated only part of her motivation.
DeVeau: ~Because no one should have to bear such a heavy burden alone. Not even you.~
Taybrim: ~I don’t want to hurt anyone~
The words came through with clarity and emotion. That was deeply, keenly true. He did not want to hurt anyone who was dear to him. Anyone who was innocent. Anyone who was kind or connected to him.
Alora was all of those things.
There was confusion, for it didn’t make sense. What she proposed was a passing of memories, ones that were horrible, soul wrenching, to be sure, but simply just that. Memories. They weren’t even hers, or his.
DeVeau: ~How could you hurt me?~
Taybrim: ~because as I said my telepathy is damaged. If I open access to those thoughts they may, like a floodgate, pour out without control. I may not be able to close that gate in time if you are struggling to process them. I cannot take that risk~
DeVeau: ~I see.~
The explanation made sense, and he had mentioned the damage he had sustained when he was younger. Physically, her hands tightened, not harshly, not to hurt, but reassuring in their grip.
DeVeau: ~I don’t think you will.~
Taybrim: ~I trust you. I don’t trust my own capabilities.~
That wasn’t self deprecating. It was honest. He had, at one time, had quite keen telepathy and had used it arrogantly, doing what he thought was best to reach out to those in anguish. Unaware that his way of trying to reach out, to communicate and to comfort was not always seen as welcome or compassionate by others. Intention and perception were two very different things. Now, after suffering the damage of a backlash he was keenly aware of his limitations and he had not tested his telepath control fully.
DeVeau: ~Maybe not. But I’ve far more experience than most non telepaths.~
Taybrim: ~Experience with telepaths in full control of their abilities.~ ::he reminded gently.::
DeVeau: ~You’re not in control?~
If anything, the mental connection started to give Alora a sense of how Sal Taybrim operated. How much he repressed his telepathy to keep a tight rein on the frayed and damaged parts - and how much he compensated with his empathy. Feeling every emotion, every breath, every heartbeat on the station as if it was all an extended part of him. No wonder he had such a keen desire to see others safe. Their well being was his well being.
Taybrim: ~I know, I have strong control of my own thoughts now. The question isn’t whether I can control my thoughts internally, but whether I can control my thoughts once the barriers have been opened.~ ::Maybe that didn’t make perfect sense. It was hard to place into words, but thoughts were slowly leaking through, the long and arduous process of building mental barriers. The overwhelming feelings of empathy. ~I have spent so long to be able to control the areas which are difficult to control, to protect everyone around me.~
DeVeau: ~You’re afraid.~
A damning accusation and yet fully honest. And honesty was seen as a virtue by Betazoids.
Taybrim: ~Yes, I fear that I might inadvertently hurt you. That I could not control the flood of what Ambassador Vananth shared with me.~
~*~
Commodore Sal Taybrim
Commanding officer
StarBase 118 Ops
&
Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau
First Officer
Starbase 118 Ops
M239008AD0
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0