Mind Melt

Posted on Sat Feb 25th, 2023 @ 7:32am by Chief Petty Officer Meredith Corden
Edited on on Sat Oct 28th, 2023 @ 12:48pm

3,194 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Mission 3: The Peace Ship
Location: Sickbay, USS Midway
Timeline: M3 MD02

A'Glosz was talking.

What else was there to do? The Princess was so heavily sedated, she couldn't have responded even if she hadn't been out of her mind. Out of her mind. One of the doctors in his shiny short sleeved tunics had used a fancier phrase for it but, well, knowing that fancy phrase hadn't helped them cure her so far.

She couldn't cure her either. She could fix most things aboard this ship, but she couldn't fix the Princess.

So she talked.

"... an' anyways, when a feller like that comes along, you don't care that you'll only see him once in a blue moon, y'know? you make that commitment. I mean, I says to the guy..." she trailed off when she heard the doors to the dimly lit medical bay swish open and saw a figure in command-gold step quietly in. By the tippy-toe tread, she knew it was a friend of Syaffia, come to take over the bedside vigil. For a girl so new to the ship, the Cadet had a lot of friends already: they never wanted for someone to sit by her.

The Tellarite woman ranker in her maintenance overalls stood and nodded to Meredith. "Hey, Chief. Come to take over? There's no change. Junkyard Julie, er, Cadet Koppelman was here all night, said she never stirred or nuthin."

She looked down on the tall, golden haired girl's inert form and grunted.

"I hope they can fix her, Chief. She's a good kid, y''know? Even that snooty officer came down and sat with her a whiles."

"I hope so too," Meredith said. She walked in and looked down at Syaffia. "She did well." Not that she'd actually seen what Syaffia had experienced on the surface.

A'Glosz gave a short snort of understanding.

"If you're staying for a while, chief, I'll go get some shuteye."

_______________________--

She hadn't been gone long before the door swished open again and an unusual trio walked in: a blue-skinned Andorian doctor in her teal Starfleet uniform, a tall Kelpien in civilian dress and a comparatively short po-faced Vulcan woman in the plain blue costume of the United Federation Psychiatric Service, enlivened only by the 'Bird-in-the-hand' emblem of the somewhat controversial organisation.

"...yes, that's the problem, unfortunately. Cadet Syaffia remains nearly unresponsive when sedated, of course, and has stayed that way of late even without the use of sedative medication. And we can't figure out why." Laviana sighed in frustration. "Neural activity is unusually high, however. It's as if she's battling somethimg in her mind that we can't see." She pointed out the bronze-skinned cadet on her biobed. "Which is why we asked for you two urgently. We've tried everything."

T'Mora gave the slightest nod of understanding. As they approached, she seemed less interested in the patient or the six throbbing bio-indicators above the bed, as in the reactions of the strange creature beside her. She watched and listened intently as Vasha 'felt' Syaffia.

Vasha winced sharply as soon as she got within a few feet of the Argelian cadet. Asleep as she most certainly was her emotions were very much active; fear radiated powerfully off the woman, enough to stab painfully like swords at the back of her eyeballs. "She's very scared of something." The Kelpien murmured, staring at the woman's eerily serene features. "I... It's like she's battling some sort of great fear. Some kind of fear that's so all-consuming it shuts down everything else in her mind." She glanced at T'Mora.

Again, that tiny nod of understanding. Perhaps it was not necessary: could Vasha 'read' T'Mora? It was never spoken of. Had the answer been 'yes' - that there were emotions there to read, then Vasha would have felt she had embarrassed the Vulcan. It was illogical to either ask or answer the question.

They approached the woman sitting at the ill Argelian's bedside.

"I am Doctor T'Mora, this is Vasha. Are you this woman's friend?" she asked Yeoman Corden. It didn't sound like an idle bit of small talk: more like a question of vast importance. A question which, depending on the answer, might save or lose a life: or at least, a mind.

Meredith considered her answer. It sounded like more than a casual, polite question. "I'd like to be," she said, "but I don't know her well. I just met her on the shuttle. I was with her when it happened."

The Vulcan woman listened carefully. "To help her, I need somebody she knows, and who is willing to risk their life, or at least, their sanity to help her. Do you know of any being on this ship who conforms to those specifications." she asked, her flat tones not quite disguising the urgency in her voice.

"Vasha and I can make an intervention, but we need a third mind to do so."

"I would be willing," Meredith said without hesitation. "How well does she need to know me?" Syaffia was new. Meredith wasn't sure if there was anyone on the ship she new well yet. She had noted that Poppy had been here but she wouldn't ask this of a cadet if she was able to do it.

"As long as recognises you and does not actively dislike or distrust you, that should be adequate." replied T'Mora coldly.

"She is an Argelian. The species retains a certain telepathic ability from their primitive past, stronger in some than others: in some cases it seems that they can, illogical though it may sound, communicate with the recently deceased. My working hypothesis is that these abilities combined with the effects of the Object B55677t have produced a mental resonant wave from which she is unable to recover."

Her sloe eyes gaze turned on Meredith.

"I have read the report on what happened to the Andaran woman on the planet. It could be useful to know what you experienced there."

"I also experienced a meeting with a deceased person from my past," Meredith said. "But not recently deceased, by any means."

T'Mora waited, perhaps expecting more information but, none forthcoming, did not push it. It certainly seemed that the... well, whatever it was!.... on the interstellar object, was more attuned and compliant with Human minds than Argelian or Ardanan.

"I suppose it could work." Laviana mused as she listened to the other women talk. She did glance at Vasha with curiosity, though. She'd have to grab that one for a chat sometime. How this Vulcan counsellor had managed to get her for an assistant was beyond her. "I'll be monitoring you all through a neural mapper for safety reasons. The second things start to go wrong I'll be pulling the plug, so to speak. I'm afraid it's better her than the three of you, as cruel as that sounds." The Andorian sighed, antennae drooping sadly.

"Surak said that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. It is my belief that the ordered minds of the many can cure the disordered mind of the one. The process will no, as you say doctor, 'go wrong'." announced the Vulcan with, perhaps greater certainty than was, in the circumstances, logical.

She addressed the next part to Meredith.

"You may have heard of a process named the Mind Meld. It is a deeply invasive meeting of minds, one that has been unfortunately over-used by some renegade half-breed Vulcans in Federation service. It ought only be used in exremis and as part of an healing process, not as a means of interrogation or a convenient communication device."

For one without emotion, she seemed to have a bee in her bonnet about this.

"What I will now initiate is a Group Meld. I will enter the patient's mind, and carry Vasha and yourself with me. Once there..." she hesitated for just a second, but compared to her usual confidence, it was telling "... once there, I may be incapacitated by the strain of maintaining the mental link between all four of us: you and Vasha will have to pull her out of her nightmare."

She glanced at Vasha and then Meredith again.

"And I am expecting a nightmare."

"I understand, doctor," Meredith answered simply and directly. She was not going to press when it came to the doctor's opinion of any Vulcans in Starfleet service.

Mind meld with someone else? Now this was something she'd certainly not signed up to do! The prospect of it was exciting - though it did also sound extremely dangerous. You know, the threat of insanity and losing your mind and all. Vasha felt her palms get sweaty with nerves, and so she wiped them on her pants while forcing her breathing to steady. Help this young cadet, and it'll be over, right?

Seeing that the Vulcan counsellor was, in fact, quire determined to make good on her word Laviana brought over four neural mappers, which she affixed to each of their heads. "Whenever you're ready. And good luck." She whispered.

Meredith took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

___________________________________________

The thing was physically somewhat awkward to arrange, both Meredith and Vasha touching the recumbent Syaffia, T'Mora touching both of them. what were they? conduits? Circuit breakers? Fuses? Either way, the Vulcan was being careful not to come into physical contact with the Argelian girl herself.

The Vulcan did not need to explain to Vasha what would happen; they had done this before, though in less extreme cases. To the human, though, she offered a small advance apology.

"I must pass through your mind to reach hers... I will not intentionally see anything there... but I must beg your pardon in advance if I do. It is not always possible to... ignore things."

She seemed more worried about glimpsing the Yeoman's innermost thoughts and feelings than the threat of all three of them losing their minds completely!

And so it began.

Feeling, reaching out through two other minds at once, carrying the two with her into a fourth... a mind locked in nightmare....

It wasn't exactly like a scene in a play... more like a looping gif transposed on a still image, in which some characters could still move freely. Impossible really to describe, even by those who lived through it. All four women were in the shuttle, Syaffia at the controls, jerkily and repeatedly phasing through the last few seconds of her Father's life, and death, T'Mora stock still - more than that, frozen like a picture - sustaining them in this mental dream world yet too stretched to act within it. Only Meredith and Vasha could move, slowly, distortedly, only they could break Syaffia free from the bondage of guilt and horror.

The apparition wearing Syaffia's form seemed to sense that two of its travelling companions were not quite the same as it had been. It rose from the pilot's seat and turned to face them, expression a mixture of confusion and relief. "Chief? What's wrong? You're... you're different somehow. And who's this?" It squinted at the tall, gangly Kelpien who stood next to the much shorter human woman, as if studying her with suspicion. "Hold on. Are you a-"

"A Kelpien, yes. I'm a counsellor in training. Something like that. Hello! Hi!" Vasha waved, jerkily and distorted, hand moving as if it were swimming through jelly. "So my name is Vasha. And I'm here to-"

"Help me." 'Syaffia''s face morphed into a mix of sadness and fear. "Oh, gods. No, no, no. You shouldn't have come."

"And why's that, dear?" Vasha cocked her head, seeming confused.

"You'll see. It's starting." 'Syaffia' pointed to a bit of empty space where the duo stood; in it materialized a handsome bronze-skinned man in a flight instructor's orange visibility vest. 'He' proceeded to move toward the group in fluid, coherent steps, an oddity given their current circumstances. "Syaffia, my dear. It's been too long. How are you?" He greeted, tone warm, kind and simply wonderful on the ears. Like he had been in life.

Meredith stood. She looked at Syaffia and then at the apparition of her father. "Hello," Meredith said to the man who appeared, not quite certain he would respond to her.

Indeed the man did not. He walked straight through her in fact, headed straight for Syaffia, holding his arms open as if wanting a hug. The Argelian, as if transfixed by the sight, embraced the apparition with tears in her eyes. "Dad..." Something was very obviously wrong here. It seemed way too scripted.

"You've grown so tall and so beautiful, my daughter. And is this the uniform of Starfleet?" Her father pulled away from her for just a moment to admire her gold uniform with a proud look on his face. "I always knew you'd become an explorer someday! Tell me, what are you doing with them now? Are you well on the way to having your own ship?"


"Yeah, I guess! I'm in Starfleet Academy now, and I'm on the Midway! My colleagues are great, my roomies are great and I'm well on the way to becoming a pilot, every bit as good as you! Just you see!" Syaffia smiled up at 'his' proudly glowing face as if expecting some kind of affirmation.

"Oh, sweet Syaffia. You were a fool to follow in my footsteps." The look on her 'father's face vanished, replaced by one of great despondence. Syaffia's expression dropped in a terrible mix of horror and confusion as he pushed away from her, taking three steps back.

"W-Why not?"

"Piloting is dangerous. I told you that so many times. I prayed in my quiet moments that you would never embark on my journey. That you would stick to just riding shuttles instead of flying them yourself." The older man's forced a smile onto his face. "You're my only child, you know. I didn't want to lose you. I still don't." Suddenly he was thrown forward violently, as if hit by an invisible force, landing face first on the ground with a dull thunk on the floor. "Dad!" Biting back tears Syaffia ran towards his motionless body. "Dad, wake up. Please! Dad?"

When her 'father' stirred and forced himself to look up next, he was barely recognizeable. His forehead was now raw, bruised and bloody where smooth, dark skin had been before. His nose, once proudly jutting out of his face, was a mangled, misshapen mess. It bled, small droplets of red dripping their way down his nose. One of his arm bones jutting through his skin. His head was definitely misshapen, dented inwards at the back like something hard and travelling very fast had collided with it.

You see?" Her 'father's voice sounded all wrong. The smoothness was gone entirely from it; he sounded wet and croaky and wibbly and not at all like himself. "This is what it does to people when things go wrong. Better me than you, sweetie. I- I gotta go now, I think. Daddy loves you." And with that her father's head slumped to the floor lifelessly.

"No. No no no. Dad? Dad, wake up, Dad-" Syaffia's eyes were wet. "Chief." Vasha touched the human's arm and pointed at the window. Careening towards them; swerving wildly left to right, was a civilian use shuttle, obviously out of control and going way too fast. Syaffia screamed, seeming unable to react as the shuttle approached, closer, closer, closer...

Impact. The shuttle rammed the group head on. Cracks spread through the hull, the window shattered and all on board went weightless for a brief second as everything went white...

And then all was still. The shuttle was whole and undamaged. The group once more stood next to Syaffia, who curled into a ball and sobbed bitterly. "You see?" She choked out between gasps.

"I think I know what's going on here." Vasha mused, seeming only slightly shaken by the experience. She knelt, taking Syaffia's hand in hers. It was a weird feeling: no sensation existed in this mental space. How do you know when you've taken someone's hand without touch? Vasha managed it somehow.

"Mental resonance wave. Remember? It resonates off the walls of her mind. So it's going to bounce back soon, so to speak - which mean we might need to pull her out before it hits. Though I suspect that that space is something ridiculously tiny. A few seconds, maybe..."

As if on cue, the image of Syaffia's father materialized, and once more began to walk towards his daughter. "Syaffia, my dear..."

"How do we pull her out?" Meredith asked.

"I suppose we just... do it. Literally." Vasha reached for the cadet and attempted to pull her out of the apparition's way, but somehow the young lady stuck fast.

As if being manipulated by invisible string Syaffia rose to her feet, embraced the image of her father... and the entire cycle began again. All was calm. They'd have a few seconds before the next wave.

"I'm going to need your help, chief. Help me pull. Cadet, you too, okay?" Vasha took hold of the cadet's arm and held on firmly.

"Is it just a matter of strength?" Meredith asked. It seemed somehow counterintuitive in a place as cerebral as this. Still, she grabbed the Cadet's arm tightly, ready to pull.

Vasha didn't reply. If she did they'd lose Syaffia to the cognitive resonance that she was trapped in again and need to wait for the opportunity to come again. Which she did not want. "Ready. One. Two. Three!" How exactly 'strength' worked in situations like this, she did not know. But their combined pulling managed to shift the Argelian out of the way, just enough for the image of her father to walk through the space she'd been in...

And they were back. No longer were they standing in the facsimile of a Starfleet shuttle, but the grayish blue walls and duotronic chime of sickbay. Vasha instantly felt weariness, all-consuming weariness, overwhelm her and down she went on her knees, spent. "Did we do it?" She panted. Note to self: no more mind melds for a while.

"Cadet Syaffia's higher cognitive functions are returning to normal. Slowly, but she'll pull through." Laviana said, monitoring their progress from the console nearby. She was instantly at each of their sides, scanning every woman with a medical tricorder. Can't take chances, after all. "Does everyone feel alright?"

"I do," Meredith said. "Just a little tired."

T'Mora opened her eyes. She was drained but felt no emotions, of course. No relief that between them, they had saved the girl; no pride in Meredith and Vasha for what hey had managed to achieve inside the cadet's mental nightmare; no gratitude to Doctor zh'Nolon for watching over them while they were locked in the mental link.

It was quite a complex mixture of emotions she wasn't feeling there.

They could all go: T'Mora leaning heavily on Vasha, even Meredith, as Poppy soon appeared to spell her at Syaffia's bedside (and to be told off for squealing like a stuck pig when she saw her friend was awake), The universe had been righted, for a few minutes, or seconds, at least.

 

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