Chapter 62 - Puzzle Pieces
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"Allen?" Getting no response, Christine touched his shoulder. "Allen?"
He startled slightly and looked up. "Sorry. Is something wrong?"
"You looked a little spaced out. I just wanted to make sure you were still in there. Are you okay?"
He blinked and ran a hand over his face. When he looked up, he seemed to be back. "I don't suppose you'd feel the least bit guilty if I told you I felt sick from being forced to eat too much."
"No, but I would get you an antacid." She put a hand on her hip. "Care to tell me what's really wrong?"
He closed his eyes. "Just tired."
Christine sucked her cheeks in, glancing between him and the biomonitor. Leonard was supposed to have been watching him, but the doctor had the tech savvy of cheese. She'd run a diagnostic on the monitor later. "Then you might as well sleep. You're stuck in bed anyway."
He laughed mirthlessly. "Can't."
"I could get you a sedative."
"No thanks." He gave her thin smile. "I've recently developed an appreciation for Grey's aversion to any and all drugs."
Christine chuckled. "Do you ever call her Selina?"
"Only as often as she calls me Allen." His smile went a little crooked. "We've both gotten a bit stubborn about it, I guess."
"So, is there a reason you can't sleep?"
He lifted an eyebrow. "Please, I just finished fending off the doctor's attempts to shift through my psyche. Don't you start."
"If there's something on your mind, it might help to talk about it. I won't try to analyze you, I promise." She winked. "Think of it as one citizen of Lake Wobegon to another."
That got the first genuine smile she'd seen from him. "You didn't get your nursing degree at the Academy, did you?"
"I never had your father for a class, but everyone knew about that lecture." She grinned at him. "So talk to me, eh?"
He laughed and shook his head. "I've just never been able to leave a puzzle until I've solved it and I've got a lot of pieces that still aren't fitting together. Not to mention some significant bits that seem to still be missing." He bit his lip and looked away. "Plus some I can't quite work with yet."
"It hasn't been that long." She put a hand over the one that had tightened in a fist. "It'll get better with time."
"I don't know if I've got that luxury. Stone seems to think SI can handle this now, but I'm not so sure." He looked at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I wish I could talk about it, but I can't."
"Is there someone else who you could talk to?"
"I've told Spock what I'm concerned about. But he hasn't been involved in this until now and what he'd need to look for..." Allen frowned. "It's sort of tied up in one of those pieces that isn't fitting together."
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Selina finally reached a state of deep meditation. Too many things had unsettled her during the last two days and especially the last few hours, but she saw now that it was listening to Maldi's thoughts that had truly left her disturbed. She had learned how to obtain his private records and caused him to doubt himself and what he believed about Faf. She should feel satisfied. Yet she had the nagging sense that she had missed something. His surface thoughts had been clear enough, but there had been echoes from his subconscious, whispers she had stored in her memory but had been unable to untangle.
Now drifting in a state of detachment, they began to unfold before her inner eye. He had been angry about missing the connection between her and Faf, about losing the opportunity to break him by threatening her. (A very primitive part of her almost wished he had tried. He did not know the extent of her talent: the first hand he laid on her would have been the last.) She paused to quiet that part of her mind and set the desire for vengeance aside with all other desires. To see clearly now she must become only memory and reason.
Maldi had been frustrated, angry for his losses, and facing the end of his ambitions, yet under it he had still been puffed up, almost smug. The habit of a lifetime or something more? He had been caught before, and tried and convicted. Yet he always managed to slide away. The whispers in his subconscious said he expected to again.
Her eyes snapped open. He expected it long before he was delivered for trial.
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Kirk ran a hand through his hair and tried to concentrate on the report in front of him. God, but he hated reports. At least Sorenson had gotten Stone off his back (for which Jim probably owed him a bottle of something - he made a mental note to ask Spock what he liked). Command would be a lot happier if a record of the interrogation could be found or if Sorenson could remember it. However, between whatever Sorenson had told Stone and Selina's testimony, they had decided that Maldi had not learned anything that would constitute a serious security threat. A prison ship was on its way to collect Maldi and crew and tow his ship back for evidence.
Now all Kirk had to do was hold him, keep a bunch of antsy delegates happy, and, of course, send regular fracking reports. Although Spock insisted that this was normal, Jim secretly suspected that Command asked for more of them from him as some sort of hazing for making Captain so quickly. He returned to the one in front of him, fervently wishing for an excuse to set it aside.
His door chimed. Thank you, God! "Come."
The door to his quarters slid open to reveal Selina. ThankyouthankyouthankyouGod! His heart leaped ...and then fell flat when he noticed her face. Her expression was every bit as Vulcan as when they'd first met.
"Jim, I must speak with you." Well, at least she was calling him Jim.
"Of course." He stood, but somehow actually touching seemed like a bad idea right now, so he simply indicated a chair with an inviting sweep of his hand. "Please, have a seat. What is it?"
"Meditation has revealed what I could not previously distinguish in what lay below Maldi's surface thoughts. I perceive now that it was not merely his malevolence that unsettled me after listening to his mind. He expects to escape us."
Damn. Well, that explained the Vulcan-level of serious. "How?"
"That is less clear." Her brows drew together slightly. "This ship is not the whole of his organization. He expects action from an ally, although I do not think he knows himself the manner in which it may occur - the impressions are too murky and ill-formed." Her gaze turned inward. "There is some signal expected or message whose relay will set contingencies in motion. However, I do not comprehend the context of the images associated with it. They do not resemble those that Fafhrd monitored before we left the Aldrin."
He leaned forward. "Can you describe them?"
"There is a small room and a control panel, a sequence of screens and coded symbols..." The perfect impassivity of her expression was marred by a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth. She shook her head. "I thought that you should be appraised of Maldi's expectations, especially as his assumption that we are involved may place you at risk. However, it would be more efficient for me to show this to Spock directly." She began to rise from her seat.
"Wait." Jim was seized by a sudden impulse. "You can show me - like when you showed me the image of the shuttle controls. I combed through that ship with security during clean up operations. I might at least recognize the room."
Her eyebrows elevated slightly. "This is not a single image, but a series of impressions. And there is an overlay of Maldi's emotions. I cannot wholly separate them to shield you from those."
No wonder she was so controlled now. But Jim was not going to back away over something like that. "I've been fed with a fire hose before. Maldi may be an oily slime devil, but after you and the other Spock, I really doubt his emotions are going to be intense enough to get to me." He gave her a small grin. "Just try not to give me another migraine, okay?"
She nodded (more solemnly than necessary Jim hoped) and gently placed a hand to his temple. The first sensation was dream-like, as if he was floating effortlessly in midair on a calm, cool day. If this is what you got from Surakian discipline, no wonder Vulcans usually had that zen-like expression.
Accept this state, Jim. It will be easier to process what I will show you if your mind is first at peace.
No problem! This state was one seriously mellow buzz. How could she possibly ever have trouble sleeping if she could do this?
There was a soft ripple, like a sigh. It is not quite as easy it seems.
He sensed very briefly that this state/place was like a domed city on the ocean floor: the atmosphere held at the cost of maintaining a shield against constant pressure and dependent on careful internal equilibrium. Equilibrium, he realized, that the presence of his own ungoverned emotions wasn't helping. I think I'm good. Show me.
As you wish.
Images and emotions streamed into his head. This wasn't a narrative stream like when old Spock had shown him how he'd come to Delta Vega. This was like some experimental surrealist holo played off-speed. It was actually starting to make him dizzy...
Then suddenly he was in the dream-like place again, except it wasn't quite so calm now.
Breathe, Jim. Had he been holding his breath? Oh yeah, he had. He was dimly aware that his chest hurt.
Breathe! He forced himself to take a breath.
I am going to withdraw now, Jim. Please continue to breathe.
He was sitting in a chair again, but his head was held in both of Selina's hands and when he opened his eyes her face was close. Nice way to come to. Maybe if he'd held his breath longer she'd have done mouth-to-mouth?
She lifted an eyebrow. "I would have slapped you first. That is usually more effective in such cases."
"That might have been okay too." He flashed a cheeky grin, certain that somewhere in there was the woman who had laughed in his head.
"Focus, Jim." She released him and sat back.
Right. Focus. Unfortunately those images were hard to bring into focus. He shook his head. "None of that looks real familiar, but it's still all jumbled up."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Do you know how to meditate?"
"You mean like yoga?"
Her eyebrows rose slightly. "You practice yoga?"
"I've taken a few classes." Why did that always surprise people? He never understood why so few guys were in those classes. Lots of flexible women in tight outfits - what wasn't to like? "The stretching is great, but I've never got the hang of the meditating part."
One eyebrow rose slightly higher than the other. "Perhaps if you had focused on your own breathing rather than on the other students?"
He looked at her. "I thought you said you were withdrawing."
"I thought I might be able to aide you in ordering your thoughts." There was a very tiny, thin smile. "Since you are at least familiar with the concept of yogic meditation, let us try that. Close your eyes."
Jim obeyed. Begin by emptying your mind.
What would Bones do with a line like that? Focus, Jim - remember the place I showed you.
Yeah. Okay. That was good. Concentrate on your breath. In... Out... In... Out...
In. Out. In. Out. A distinctly non-meditative thought drifted across his mind...
A finger snapped against the side of his head.
"Ow. Sorry, I guess I developed some bad habits in yoga class." He grinned.
Selina let out a slow breath herself. "I think it might be more beneficial to resolving the issue at hand if I were leave." She stood and crossed to the door before he could object. "I will show these impressions to Spock, but please continue to try to understand them yourself." She turned before leaving. "And remember to breathe."
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AN: Jim is a ladies' man, he really can't help it. I noticed re-watching the movie that Kirk is nearly hyperventilating after Spock Prime drops the mind meld and Jim forgetting to breathe became part of the last scene.
I've had a sense that there is a commonality between Christine and Faf (other than inactionable affection for certain people from Vulcan). It came to me while listening to 'A Prairie Home Companion'. There are at least two colleges offering nursing degrees off the Lake Wobegon Trail in Minn. and there's a psychological effect named after the mythical town (so yes, I expect at least regional knowledge of it to continue into the 23rd century). One of my favorite anthro lectures was on 'Wobegonians' and was given to remind new students (most of us from the Great Lakes region) that we were every bit as weird as any of the tribal groups were going to be studying that semester.
