THE LOST YEARS
by Soledad
INTERLUDE: THE LOST WARRIOR
Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see Chapter 01.
Jewel, the Minaran empath, is wearing a similar outfit as Gem wore in the episode "The Empath". I'm not entirely sure about the medo-babble, so I apologize for any mistakes I might have made.
Chapter 12 – Wandering in Mist
To say that Gabriel was anxious approaching the therapy room of Sickbay would have been an understatement. He was positively hysterical. He'd have probably chickened out, if not for Jolly's solid presence. The big guy had readily agreed to accompany him, and Gabriel had the weird feeling that Jolly's unshakable bulk was the only thing anchoring him to sanity.He felt safe with Jolly; it was a good feeling.
It was a good thing, too, that the pilots and mechanics of the border patrol counted, by the slight extension of Hunter's authority, as Starfleet personnel – at least when it came to medical care. He doubted he'd ever be able to trust a civilian therapist – or any Colonial psychotech, for that matter. Whatever might have happened to him, whatever trauma had caused his memory loss, he could be reasonably sure that Starfleet had not been involved.
Nonetheless, he was shaking with fear when the slide doors opened for them and the Vulcan therapist rose from her desk.
"Greetings," she said calmly. "I'm T'Mir, a healer. I shall lead your first session."
"Y-you?" Gabriel stuttered. "I- I thought a Deltan..."
The Vulcan nodded. "I shall hand over your case to Dr. Krnsandor'naar after the first phase. However, Vulcans are better suited to guide a patient through the first couple of sessions, as those are, basically, a series of rather… mechanical mental exercises. There is no need to worry, Lieutenant. I am not going to touch your emotions – all I shall do is to help you identify the kind of memory block you are having. Dr. Krnsandor'naar will be dealing with the memories themselves."
Gabriel was practically rooted in the doorframe, unable to move, either towards the Vulcan or away from her.
"C'mon, Bucko," Jolly murmured, nudging him gently. "There's no use – you must just bite the bullet and go through this."
You must bite the bullet, he'd said, and for a moment, a disjointed memory flashed through Gabriel's mind. He saw a large, dimly-lit barrack with bunk beds and a dozen or so pilots, naked to the waist, watching four others who were playing pyramid at a table. One of the players was eerily familiar – until he recognized his younger self, with an unruly mop of tawny hair, and in a Colonial pilot's uniform. He was looking up at a big, fat pilot with sparsely strewn dark fur on his broad back – a younger Jolly, he realized with a jolt – who was saying: We'll have to bite the bullet and get through this game, Bucko!
He looked at Jolly questioningly. "Tell me, buddy… have we ever played pyramid with a bunch of Colonial pilots?"
The other man grinned. "Uncounted times, in fact."
"Yeah, but was there one particular time when you and a couple of others were shirtless and gave me handfuls of those little golden pieces…"
"Cubits," Jolly supplied helpfully.
"Right, cubits," Gabriel nodded. "You were keeping them in some kind of pouch under your pillows… and you were not happy to give them to me. I sat at a table with two guys who looked exactly the same and had the weird custom to repeat each other's sentences…"
"Gemoni twins," Jolly said, becoming pale like dough. "That was at Cimtar… on the very day when the fracking Cylons lured us all into a trap and destroyed our homeworlds and almost the entire Fleet with them."
Gabriel shook his heard. "All I can remember is you saying: We'll have to bite the bullet and get through this game, Bucko!"
"And that is a good sign," the Vulcan healer, whom they had both forgotten, interjected. "It means that your memories have begun to resurface."
"All of them?" Gabriel asked, not quite sure that he actually wanted that. The Vulcan nodded.
"Eventually, they would," she replied. „Once such flashbacks as you have just experienced have started, the rest will follow. Was it not the result you were aiming for?"
"Well, I'd certainly like to know who I really am," Gabriel grumbled, "but I'm not so eager to relive the experience that made me forget in the first place."
"That is understandable," the Vulcan said. "You have no reason to worry, though. Dr. Krnsandor'naar and I will guide you through the process, and if necessary, we will bring in Jewel as well. However, first I need to make a purely psychical scan of your brain – for medical purposes. We shall then compare it with the one that was made when you were found, to see if there are any physical conditions that have changed since then."
"You mean whether I've suffered some sort of brain damage in the meantime?" Gabriel asked with a worried frown.
"On the contrary," the Vulcan replied calmly. "I expect that we will find signs of increased activity, at least in certain areas of your brain. A first step of healing, if you want to put it so."
"Oh," Gabriel said intelligently, and climbed onto the biobed without a further argument. Jolly suppressed a grin, remembering how much Starbuck had used to hate physicals. Of course, circumstances had been quite different back then.
T'Mir brought some sort of medical scanner in position above Gabriel's head and attached small, twin devices to his temple by simple pressure – they must have had some adhesive surface, because they stayed in place firmly. Then she started the medical log, making a simple record of the examination that was taking place, in order to recover Lt. Demos' lost memories, and then switched it off again. There was no need to say more; Lt. Demos' memory loss was recorded already.
The examination itself only took a few centons – minutes, Jolly corrected himself absent-mindedly. It didn't seem to bother Star… Gabriel much; if anything, he looked a little bored, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling where was absolutely nothing to see. Jolly expected him to start fidgeting any moment now. Finally, the Vulcan doctor declared the first scan finished and removed the apparatus.
"You will have to come back for more scans every other day," she said, "so that we can compare the records and map any changes. Do you wish to take a look inside your brain?"
"Of course," Gabriel said. "But you'll have to explain me what am I seeing."
"I can do that," the Vulcan agreed and turned the screen to him. "You can see the graphic of your brain on this monitor here: the representations of axons and neurons. They are firing with general uniformity, except in this one area. This section, near your hippocampus, is firing very erratically. Clearly, something is out of order here."
"And what exactly?" Gabriel asked. T'Mir almost shrugged… almost. Working with humans must have been rubbing off.
"I would not risk forming a hypothesis without analyzing the data first – that would be unprofessional," she answered. "Also, I need to consult Dr. Krnsandor'naar in this matter."
"How long would it take?" Gabriel asked nervously.
T'Mir calculated the necessities in her mind for a moment.
"I shall need about two point nine standard hours for the analysis," she finally said. "I cannot predict when Dr. Krnsandor'naar would find the time for a consultation. But I can promise with a probability of ninety-five point six per cent that we will have a hypothesis by your next appointment."
Jolly and Gabriel exchanged grins of understanding. Vulcans could be involuntarily funny sometimes – especially when they were completely serious. As usual, T'Mir showed no understanding for their amusement.
"I understand that the two of you share quarters at the moment," she looked at Jolly in askance. The fat pilot nodded.
"The embassy of Alpha III offered Gabriel temporary quarters, as long as he can't work to come up for his living, and he asked me to move in with him as long as I'm on the Starbase," he explained.
"That is… convenient," the doctor said. "I expect further flashbacks to happen, and it would be very helpful if someone would be with him. Someone familiar."
"I don't need a babysitter!" Gabriel protested.
The Vulcan gave him a patient look that was just a little bit exaggerated.
"You can stay here, of course, where we can observe your status twenty-four hours a day," she said. "The private sick rooms are very comfortable for humans, I am told."
As expected, Gabriel back-pedalled very quickly.
"No, no," he said hurriedly, "I'll be fine with Jolly."
Having achieved her goal, T'Mir released them till the day after tomorrow.
It was a tense and visibly nervous Gabriel, who appeared in Sickbay two days later, with Jolly in tow. He'd had two very bad nights, plagued by violent nightmares and very little sleep. The strain was visible due to the dark rings under his eyes that seemed to have grown enormously in his lean face, and in the nervous twitching of his hands. If they weren't grown men, both of them, he'd probably have held Jolly's large paws for support.
This time, the Vulcan doctor wasn't waiting for them alone but in the company of two of her colleagues. One of these was a male Deltan of indefinable age; slim, bald and beautiful, with large violet eyes, like most of his people, wearing the usual blue uniform of Starfleet's Medical Division. The other one was a civilian: a sweet-faced young woman with short-cropped, auburn hair, in a form-fitting dark coverall, over which she was wearing a short-sleeved, shimmering translucent gown; it was a fairly strange outfit.
"Allow me to make the introductions," T'Mir said. "Dr. Krnsandor'naar Ka'ndowali is a therapist and has treated members of many different races with success," the Deltan bowed gracefully but didn't stretch out his hand. "And Jewel is a Minaran empath, a mind-healer. She will be the one to finish your treatment, Lieutenant, after Dr. Krnsandor'naar and I have done our part."
The young woman gave them a brilliant smile but didn't say a word. Gabriel frowned.
"Was it really necessary to bring in more people? I'd prefer that as few know about the whole thing as possible."
"It was necessary," the Vulcan replied, completely unfazed. "It is our duty to help you at the best of our abilities, and that is what we are going to do. We have assembled a team of people who are best qualified to heal you, assumed a healing is possible. That is something we can only determine during therapy. But we shall do out best."
"You promised him a hypothesis, doc," Jolly said quietly, seeing that Gabriel was too nervous to ask.
T'Mir nodded. "And I can offer you one. We have discussed the data and came to the conclusion that the repressed memories could be set free again. In fact, they need to be set free, or else they will cause the lieutenant severe psychological trauma that might result in mental instability. It is surprising that he has not had more problems in the recent two years. This is a serious condition."
"He is standing right here," Gabriel growled. "And he'd appreciate if you could explain him what's wrong with him."
"Our apologies, Lieutenant," the Deltan took over smoothly. His voice was surprisingly deep and mellow for such a slender man, making Jolly wonder if he was considerably older than his youthful looks.
"Basically, the memory engrams in the dorsal region of your hippocampus are being disrupted," he continued. "There are definitely traumatic memories struggling to surface again, but – due to the disruption – you can't have conscious access to them. As long as you don't, there's no chance for any therapist to help you deal with the trauma, and the battle between conscious and unconscious could cause you great harm. So we'll help you to build a bridge to these suppressed memories of yours."
"How?" Gabriel asked, doubt clearly written in his face. The Deltan gestured towards his colleagues elegantly.
"That would be T'Mir's job," he said. "Vulcans have unique abilities in that area. When we've found the exact location of the damage, I'll help you to face the memories and to file them away safely, so that they won't bother you beyond endurance. When we've sorted it all out, Jewel will take over, to heal the damage the trauma had caused. We won't take the memories away; that would be maiming the person that you are. But we'll help you to shove them into the right perspective, and we'll heal the pain. Would that be acceptable?"
Gabriel thought about it for a moment. Personally, he would have preferred to leave the memories of torture forgotten, but the Deltan was right. Whether he wanted or not, that, too, was now part of him – he still had the scars to prove it – and he'd never be able to become himself again, if he didn't face what had been done to him, no matter how painful the process might be.
"Yes," he said quietly. "It is acceptable."
"Good," the Deltan nodded. "The first step, and I'd suggest that we make it right away, would be a so-called mind-meld, performed by T'Mir. Do you know what a Vulcan mind-meld is?"
"The thing when Vulcans grab your head and read your thoughts," Gabriel said with a shrug. The Deltan laughed – it was a melodic and pleasant sound.
"It's a bit more complicated than that," he corrected. "T'Mir will not read your thoughts – she'll try to localize the time and event that lead to your memory blockade. She'll determine how strong that block is, and what its extent might be,"
"She can do that?" Gabriel was impressed.
"That and more," he Deltan replied. "Vulcans are the best at that kind of survey. She'll map your mental landscape, set the landmarks for me, so that I can help you unfold the memories themselves."
"Will I…" Gabriel hesitated. "Will I feel anything?"
The Deltan shrugged elegantly. "Not physically, you won't. But I can't tell you in advance what the experience will be like. It's different for everyone. You have nothing to fear, though. We won't do anything you're not willing to let happen. You're the one who sets the speed."
Gabriel swallowed convulsively. "All right, then. What do I do?"
"Nothing," T'Mir replied simply. "Close your eyes, relax, and let me do all the work."
The phrasing made both Gabriel and Jolly snicker, used to associate a vastly different context to that particular phrase. T'Mir, missing the subtext, gave them the perfect Vulcan eyebrow.
"While I cannot imagine what you might find so amusing, Lieutenant, I must insist that we be left alone," she said. "We need quiet and privacy for this particular exercise."
"Please," Gabriel said hurriedly, "can't at least Jolly stay with me? It… it would help me to relax." It would make me feel safe, he added in thought, but that wasn't something he'd be willing to say loudly. Not yet.
After a moment of consideration, T'Mir nodded.
"Very well," she said. "But you must remain silent, Sergeant, and do not try to interfere, even if what you see frightens you. You have to trust me that I would not harm the Lieutenant. Interference from the outside could cause great harm, though. Do you understand what I mean?"
Jolly nodded, although clearly not comfortable with the whole situation. "Yes, Ma'am."
"Good," T'Mir glanced at the Deltan and the Minaran. "Leave us alone, please."
A mind-meld was a delicate and very intimate process. The presence of Sergeant Jolly would be a minor distraction, but she was experienced enough to deal with it. The presence of other telepaths, however, especially as strong ones as the Deltan, would be too much at the moment.
"Now, Lieutenant," she said when the three of them were left alone, "we shall sit down in these chairs, facing each other."
Not without a healthy amount of apprehension, Gabriel obeyed, shooting Jolly a last, agitated look. The Vulcan seated herself calmly, waiting for him to collect himself.
"And now close your eyes," she instructed. Gabriel obeyed, feeling strangely small and vulnerable, not knowing what to expect. A moment later, he felt the Vulcan's fingertips resting on his face and temples, gently, barely touching. They were warm and dry, the feeling not entirely unpleasant. Some of the tension poured out of his body as he listened to the murmured mantra. "My mind to your mind… my thoughts to your thoughts…"
They sat there, unmoving, for quite a while, until Gabriel gradually relaxed.
"Now, imagine that your mind is a house, with closed doors and shuttered windows," T'Mir continued softly. "I am standing at the front door, knocking. Would you allow me to enter?"
To Gabriel's utter shock, the last sentence wasn't spoken out loudly. It came directly from mind to mind. For a moment, he tensed up again, trying to fight the intruder – then he understood that T'Mir wouldn't enter without invitation.
Yes, he tried to send back the answer the same way. Please, come in.
I cannot, T'Mir replied. Not, unless you open the front door for me. I shall not force you. Never.
That calmed down Gabriel considerably, and he tried to imagine a door opening. A simple wooden door, like the one Isme had in that little house, near the Thorn Forest.
And suddenly, there he was again, a small boy of perhaps six yahrens, playing with his grey felix in the front yard. Isme was there, too, repairing a tear in his tunic, a tear he had caused when climbing one of the thorn trees. She was singing softly, her dark hair in a lose knot on the nape of her neck, her dark eyes sometimes glancing at him with love.
Gabriel felt himself smiling; Isme was a good memory, a wonderfully comforting one. He could have stayed there forever, basking in the happiness of his early childhood.
But the picture was snatched away all too soon, replaced by the horrible one of fire and explosions and the terrified screams. He now recognized the silver objects swooping down from the sky like hungry vultures as Cylon raiders. He saw Isme again, her long hair in fire, her face and hands smeared with blood, and he heard her desperate cry, Run, Gabriel, run!
And he ran. The Thorn Forest was close, and unless the Cylons decided to burn it to the ground, he was safe there. He could hide in the trees. He knew his way up there and knew how to hide there with the small animals that lived in the boughs.
Fortunately for him, the Cylons rarely made the effort to land and finish the work of destruction. They were more interested ins spreading terror as widely as possible than in the handful of survivors that didn't have a home left to return to.
So they didn't return to burn the Thorn Forest to the ground. Gabriel hid there for days, only daring to come forth when the rescue troops arrived. But when they had finally found him, he didn't remember anything. Not his own name, not that of Isme, or that of the man who had sometimes visited them. Just the fire and the terror and the destruction.
The rescue team brought him to one of the numerous orphanages, together with hundreds of other children. And since he couldn't tell them his name, they gave him one.
They named him Starbuck.
Gabriel opened his eyes and blinked. T'Mir was still sitting opposite him, but her falted hands were resting on her lap.
"Is it over?" he asked.
"For today," the Vulcan replied. "We need to progress slowly. But you have done well – surprisingly well for someone who has never experienced a mind-meld before."
"Can't we continue?" Gabriel asked, his disappointment surprising even himself. "We have barely begun. I know now that I'm Starbuck – but I have no idea who this Starbuck is."
"And I ask you not to do any research," the Vulcan said. "That would be counterproductive to what we are trying to achieve here. Besides, you have been considered dead for the last three years. Should your true identity be revealed before you have fully regained your memories, I am told that certain people would do everything to keep you dead."
"I seem to have made a few very dedicated enemies, it seems," Gabriel looked at Jolly. "Any idea who those might be?"
The fat pilot shook his head. "No… and that is the problem. The mutual agreement is that you'd better remain Lieutenant Gabriel Demos, until we can find out what's going on behind the scenes. Being a Federation citizen is the safest possible disguise for you."
"Yeah, but I'm not a Federation citizen," Gabriel pointed out.
"Not yet," Jolly said. "But the embassy of Alpha III is working on it. You'll become full citizenship on your own right, as soon as they work themselves through the entire bureaucracy."
"But what do I need Federation citizenship for when we can find out who I really am?" Gabriel asked, a little confused.
"Because we can't say how long you'll have to hide," Jolly replied simply. "Besides, dual citizenship does have its advantages, you know."
"Perhaps," Gabriel allowed reluctantly. "But why can't we go on right away? I want answers, preferably in this century, if possible."
"You need to rest," T'Mir answered. "You might not realize, but letting me in has cost you great efforts. You are untrained and inexperienced in such matters, and your mind is in a delicate state. We must be very careful. Rest until tomorrow, and try not to force yourself to remember."
"That's easier said than done," Gabriel commented sourly.
"I know," the Vulcan said. "Nonetheless, it must be done. Sergeant, your cooperation is of utmost importance here. I want you to discuss with the lieutenant the memories he has relived during the meld – nothing else. He will know what he has seen… ask him for details. Do not allow him to search for different memories, that would do more harm than good. Are you up to the task?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Jolly replied. "Dr. Krnsandor has explained me what to do."
"Very well," T'Mir nodded. "I release you into the sergeant's care then, Lieutenant, and I expect you to follow his instructions. My colleagues have prepared him for this – he knows what he is doing."
With that, they were released for the rest of the day and could return to their shared quarters in the habitat area.
"And what, exactly, will you be doing?" Gabriel asked, keying in the opening code.
"Oh, but that would be telling," Jolly replied with an unrepentant grin. "Besides, it would falsify the test results if you knew anything in advance."
Gabriel shook his head in exasperation but followed him in nonetheless. All things considered, he was content with the headway they'd made so far. It might still be a long way until he could find his memories, but at least he was on the right path.
TBC