Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [77]
Troi gasped. His grip tightened. “Are you all right, Healer?” His voice whispered against her hood, thick with fear. The feeling of being watched had vanished when Talanne shut the door, and Troi welcomed the darkness.
‘Breck, I’m all right.” She moved a little away from him, closer to Worf. The sentinel’s fingers moved reluctantly from her shoulder. Breck needed to touch someone, to know he wasn’t alone.
But Troi needed some emotional space, a breathing room for herself. Too much had happened in the last day, too many emotions, an overload of her empathic talents.
The mind was like the body; it had limits, and Troi was dangerously close to reaching those limits. So much negativity, so much destruction. Death, fear, hatred, anger. Only Talanne’s love for her son had been positive, and Dr. Zhir’s love for the lifeless children.
Troi shook her head. She needed positive emotions to wash away the negativity, like the body needed to be bathed in cool water to cleanse sweat and dirt away. Troi needed to dress her mind in something that felt good.
‘We’re at the first outpost,” Talanne said. “We must go cautiously from here.”
‘You said the Greens do not believe in violence,” Worf said.
She glanced back at him. The light reflected in the goggles of her mask, glinting like some giant insect. “They do not believe in violence, but they do protect themselves. Just because something is not deadly does not mean it is pleasant.”
‘You speak in riddles,” Worf said.
‘I don’t mean to,” she said. “They don’t believe in taking life, but they might hold you prisoner until they had time to move the encampment. Your captain would be days dead.”
With that she led the way farther into the tunnels. They had little choice but to follow. The air grew steadily cooler. Even through the protective clothing, Troi could feel the caress of moisture.
Worf’s bare fingers traced the nearest tunnel wall. “The stone is damp.”
Troi touched it with her gloved hand, and through the tough cloth she could barely sense the cool sensation. “It’s not like the other caves at all,” she said. “The air feels fresher even through the breathing masks.”
‘Yes,” Worf said.
Breck was pressed almost into Troi’s back. But his fear had lessened.
His breathing had slowed, almost normal instead of that gasping fear. “Do you smell that?”
‘What?”
‘I don’t know,” he said. “It smells like water. But it can’t be.”
‘Why not?” Worf asked.
‘Because it smells clean.” His voice held a sort of wonder.
Light, the dimmest of illuminations crept into the tunnel. Troi’s eyes were starved for light, and even that faint grayness was welcome. She could make out the outline of her companions. She stared up ahead and found a dim, misty glow. A shimmering fall of white light that looked nearly magical against the darkness.
Talanne’s caped figure was framed against the glowing light. She turned to look back at them, shining the light onto each of them as if to make sure they were still with her. “Stay there. I won’t be long.” She walked into the light, becoming more visible as she moved. The colors of her cloak, the stride of her boots, everything was suddenly very distinct.
Talanne looked so very real that for a moment, Troi expected her to fade into the light and leave them to darkness.
Breck had moved in front of them, as if he wanted to follow. Or perhaps it was his thought that Talanne would leave them to the dark. Troi wasn’t sure anymore. The Orianians could enter her mind and thoughts without a ripple. It was unsettling, but she was becoming accustomed to it. They didn’t do it on purpose, most of the time, and meant no harm.
The three of them stood alone in the welcome glow, the darkness pressing at their backs. Troi wanted to walk forward into the light, but again she feared it was Breck’s phobia not her own. How could any empath be trained on a planet where the mingling of minds was so seamless?
Talanne appeared in the light again. Two barefaced Orianians walked at her back. They wore the plain blue overalls of the Greens. Pockets bulged along the