Possession - J.M. Dillard [32]
RUN! RUN, MY CHILD! THERE IS DANGER HERE!
Troi took one staggering step backward, then another, as the desire to flee, to escape, overwhelmed her with a primal terror. She groaned and took another step backward before bumping into Dr. Crusher.
“Deanna, what is it?” Beverly asked, gripping her arms and holding her in place.
Troi’s heart rate had accelerated wildly, and she was panting. Picard stared at her, alarmed. She swallowed, stood up straight, and collected herself.
“Counselor?” Picard demanded. He glanced between Troi and the Vulcan suspiciously.
Skel would not look at her. His face was as composed as any Vulcan’s, but she knew now he was not like any other Vulcan she’d ever scanned. She turned to him for an explanation.
“Forgive me, Counselor,” the scientist said softly. She thought—to her amazement—that he sounded ashamed. “I have never been scanned by a Betazoid before. I was hoping you would not sense it.”
“Sense what?” Picard snapped.
Crusher had a medical scanner out and was running it over Deanna, then comparing the readouts with the ones from the quarantine unit. “Yes. I’d like to know the same thing.”
Deanna swallowed again, and Picard moved to bring her some water.
“It is my fault, Captain,” the Vulcan explained as Deanna drank from the offered glass. “I should have warned her, but I did not think—” He exhaled in a rush and started over. “When the disease caused by the artifacts infected the planet Vulcan, I was a child of ten. My father was infected. He went mad and killed my mother, T’Reth, through brutal torture. Her last act was to save my life, by mentally calling a warning that woke me from my sleep and allowed me to escape. However, the experiences I suffered during that period—seeing my father’s madness, sensing my mother’s torment and death, hearing her mental screams—have caused me long-term psychological damage. In times of stress, my mother’s warning and the fear it induced come to me unbidden, affecting my sleep and my reactions to normal stimuli. Being kidnapped, having my life threatened, fearing that the artifacts might reinfect others again—it reawakened my childhood fears and made them new again. It is as if my mother’s voice is running rampant through my mind.” He glanced at Deanna, his face somber. “I apologize again, Counselor. I thought I could shield you. I should have warned you.”
“I—I’m all right,” Deanna told her worried crewmates. “Your explanation puts the raw sensation into perspective. It was just such a surprise. I usually only pick up feelings, impressions. But—it was as if I could hear your mother’s voice. That must have been so terrible for you, Skel. I am so sorry that you must live with that difficult memory.”
“T’Reth’s voice, though disconcerting, has often warned me of imminent danger,” Skel told her. “It is not logical to believe so, but over the years, I have come to know it is true. My mother was a brave and courageous woman. I could do far worse than to have her voice in my mind, still warning me, still fighting to preserve my life all these years after her tragic death. I appreciate your understanding.”
Deanna realized she’d never given Picard the information he needed, that he was still waiting. “Master Scientist Skel has told us the truth as he knows it. The sense of strong emotion that traces back to his childhood is understandable in the light of his past. He appears to be mentally sound and totally uninfected by any force or organism.”
Picard asked pointedly, “You feel it would be safe then to release Skel from quarantine?”
She glanced back at the scientist, at the placid Vulcan exterior, at the calm outer shell. “Yes, I believe it is safe.”
“Why take the chance, Captain?” Skel interjected. “This facility will allow me