Chapter 4

"Lieutenant Rhys Vaughn?" said Heidelburg.

"Yes," said Vaughn as he nervously twitched by the door to the medical lab. He glanced back and forth between Heidelburg at the table and T'Ling by the BCP monitoring station. "Where should I stand?"

"Please have a seat," said Heidelburg.

"Sorry, sorry," said Vaughn as he seated himself across from the other man. "I'm just not very good with exams. Do I have to strip?"

Heidelburg chuckled. "This is a psychological examination, Lieutenant."

"Right," said Vaughn, nodding. "So, just the top half?"

"There will just be some questions and a few mental tests," said Heidelburg.

"Will I need a calculator?" said Vaughn.

Heidelburg sighed and carefully explained the testing process while T'Ling applied the cortical monitors to Vaughn's head.

As with all of the tests yesterday, Heidelburg begun by asking a few questions about Vaughn's early life, then moved on to the subject of his Starfleet career.

Looking at a sheaf of paper, Heidelburg commented, "A lot of your superiors have praised your professional intuition, Lieutenant. They say that you often predict what they need even before they think of it themselves."

"I'm good at getting to know people," Vaughn said, cheerfully. "Their likes and dislikes. Kind of makes socialising difficult though; people are a little creeped out when I start guessing stuff about them without being told. My fiancée says I should have gone into Starfleet Intelligence." He laughed.

Heidelburg smirked and made a written note.

They then moved on to the usual logic and guessing games, which Vaughn performed well at, for a Human. Then there was the memory test with the cards.

Although she hadn't always been able to see the cards reflected in Heidelburg's glasses, T'Ling had noticed that the subjects yesterday would occasionally guess the incorrect card, only for Heidelburg to turn it over and reveal they were correct, despite not matching the original sequence. It did not happen often, but enough that T'Ling concluded that it was no coincidence. She had intended to address the issue with Heidelburg, but he had retired to his quarters immediately after the testing was completed due to fatigue.

With Vaughn, the same deliberate error occurred again. And then twice more. Each time, Vaughn correctly named the card Heidelburg was holding, regardless of the initial order. Neither Human commented on the mistakes.

When the testing was concluded, T'Ling found no one in the waiting area, despite the fact that Vaughn's tendency to ask irrelevant questions had caused them to overrun. Reporting this to Heidelburg, he checked his padd.

"A Lieutenant Commander Jessica McQueen is next," he said. "Shall we call her?"

"Perhaps we should wait," said T'Ling. "Commander McQueen is often delayed."

Heidelburg tutted - a Human affectation used to express annoyance - and started to read over his notes, when T'Ling realised this was an advantageous opportunity to discuss the cards.

Moving to stand in front of the table, she said, "Doctor, I have noticed that you often include deliberate errors during the memory test portion of the examination. Why is this?"

Heidelburg waved his hand. "Just a small hurdle for the subjects. To see if they pick up on minor details, such as imperfections in the cards or 'tells' in my expression."

While this explained the behaviour, T'Ling felt it was unscientific and an unnecessary difficulty in obtaining useful results. She was about to state as much and further enquire as to the purpose of the method, when Heidelburg started to speak again.

"I should have known a Vulcan would not be fooled though." He grinned and gestured to his work splayed across the table. "You probably play games like these as kinder."

T'Ling now recalled some of the logic puzzles she had frequently engaged in as a child. "Indeed. Kal-toh, cha', durotta… We even have a game similar to chess."

"This is why you all have such keen mental abilities," said Heidelburg, tapping his temple. "Like the mind-melds. Tell me, Frau Dokter, what experience have you had with those?"

T'Ling stiffened. Although she was still reluctant to discuss such an intimate topic, she appreciate the hypocrisy in avoiding the question again. Perhaps, as well, her answers may encourage Heidelburg's.

"For the majority of my life, it was considered abhorrent," she started. "It was taught that, outside of a low-level psychic link during mating bonds, telepathic activity was unethical and dangerous."

"But there is some danger involved, nein?"

"Due to a lack of freely available information on the subject, those who disregarded cultural norms in order to meld - such as the V'tosh ka'tur sub-culture - did so without proper guidance. This resulted in numerous neurological impairments."

"Such as Pa'nar syndrome?" Heidelburg clearly knew more about Vulcan culture beyond the ta'al.

T'Ling inclined her head as a small nod. With regret, she recalled admonishing several patients who had come to her with Pa'nar or similar conditions. While she had always kept their medical status confidential, she now felt she had treated those patients too harshly.

"Now that taroon-ifla - melding - is socially acceptable," she said, "more information is accessible, and the practice is being taught openly."

"And have you learned how to mind-meld?"

T'Ling raised an eyebrow. "I confess, I have found it difficult to release decades of cultural bias." She hesitated; this was difficult for her to admit aloud, but there was nothing to be gained from hiding such a weakness. "As illogical as it is, part of me still considers melding to be… undesirable. I have been learning, however, albeit with slow progress."

"Well, such a skill cannot be learned overnight," said Heidelburg, chuckling. "And I cannot blame you; you have had one belief ingrained into you since birth. Even Vulcans have their stigmas. You should not let that prevent you from fully embracing your culture though."

"Our minds are considered sacred to us," said T'Ling. "They are the origin of logic and the only source of certainty in an ever-changing universe. As a result, however, a mind perceived to be in any way 'imperfect' is treated with severe prejudice. Treatment for mental health is not as widely available on Vulcan as it is on Earth."

"Really?" said Heidelburg, seeming genuinely surprised by this.

"Indeed. One of my granddaughters has l'tak terai, a condition that affects the ability to read and write. Due to a lack of sufficient treatment or awareness of her disability, she is falling behind in her classes." This was not something she shared often, but mental health was a more socially acceptable topic among Humans, and Heidelburg's interest and expertise on the subject made her more open.

Heidelburg took on a sombre expression. "I'm sorry to hear that."

T'Ling knew this was a common Human expression used to convey sympathy, not sorrow or guilt, and she inclined her head in gratitude. Something about Heidelburg's concern compelled her to share more of her family's experience in this matter.

"My late husband also died from a neurological illness called Bendii syndrome twenty years ago."

"I have heard of this," said Heidelburg, leaning forward onto the table. "It causes loss of emotional control…"

"Correct. Those who suffer from it, such as my husband, are expected to withdraw from social situations."

Heidelburg scoffed. "Like they are an embarrassment."

"Precisely."

"It is unfair… Humans used to be much the same with regard to mental health. Perhaps, in time, Vulcans will catch up with us." He smirked slightly, obviously enjoying the rare cultural reversal.

T'Ling could not deny that Humans had surpassed her people in that arena. "Perhaps," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Forgive me for prying," Heidelburg said delicately, "but from what I've read of Bendii syndrome, it mostly affects Vulcans over two hundred years old…"

"That is correct, Doctor."

"And you say your husband passed away twenty years ago…"

"Yes."

Heidelburg appeared to be in physical discomfort, as Humans often did when discussing topics they deemed 'difficult.'

"May I then ask…" he said. "How old does that make you?"

"I am one hundred and ninety-four point two Earth years old," she answered flatly.

Heidelburg's eyes widened in surprise. Humans rarely lived little more than a single century.

"Well, you certainly don't look a day over a hundred and fifty," he said with a laugh. "But - ah, again forgive my forwardness - but you must have been much younger than your husband, if he was over two hundred twenty years ago."

"I was."

"I thought that Vulcans were betrothed from childhood? With someone around their own age?"

"They usually are. However… the late husband of whom I spoke was not my betrothed."

Heidelburg leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. "Oh really?"

"Yes." This was where T'Ling would draw the line - they had discussed her past long enough - and tried to direct the conversation back onto Heidelburg. "Were you never married yourself, Doctor?"

He shook his head and looked bashfully down at his papers. "Ah, nein, my work has been my whole life… Although, when I was in university, I did have an attraction towards older women." He looked back up at her with a smile.

T'Ling was not quite sure how to reply to this, but was saved by a cough. She turned to see Lieutenant Commander McQueen standing in the doorway with a big grin.

"Sorry. Not interrupting anything, am I?" said McQueen.

"You are late, Commander," said T'Ling, marching over to the monitoring station. "Please take a seat."

Although T'Ling was grateful for McQueen's arrival, part of her was curious as to where her conversation with Heidelburg would have gone.