Chapter 11
Matharus was first to puncture the brief silence in which both he and Chekov seemed compelled to look everywhere except at each other.
"Are you absolutely sure you don't want to be called—"
"Yes," Chekov replied sharply.
Matharus shrugged. "Your loss, Pavel."
"And we are not on first-name terms. 'Ensign' or 'Chekov' will be fine."
The alien sighed. "'Ensign or Chekov' it is, then."
"No, they are two different titles. 'Ensign'…" he paused to make his point clear, "…or 'Chekov'. Pick one."
"All right, all right." Matharus began to pace a few feet above him.
Chekov followed him back and forth a few times. "What are you doing?"
"Thinking about what our next move is, because if we don't move fast, I may never have the chance to decide which name I like better."
The teen pointedly ignored the last part of Matharus's answer. "So…what is our next move? I hef as much to do with this as you, so I would appreciate it if you'd let me know what is going on."
"Yes, of course." Matharus stopped, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "Well, the ideal action would be to get us off this ship and back on our way home…"
Chekov lifted his head as far as he could to gape at the other man. "Um, I'm not sure why I need to be reminding you, but ze last time 'we' tried to go home," he yanked at the restraints on his wrists for emphasis, "it didn't work. Besides, I am already in ze hugest loads of trouble. Wouldn't trying to leave again make things worse?"
"I didn't say we had to leave right this second, but as I told you before, you—ah, we, that is, have no choice. If any of us are going to survive, we'll have to leave eventually and the sooner the better."
"And zat is another thing. What about me? What does all of this mean for my life here on ze Enterprise, at home on Earth? How will it affect my friends, my family, my career? Doesn't…doesn't any of zat matter?"
"Yes, it does. Why wouldn't it?"
"Then can we at least wait until there is ewidence proofing I am not insane? Maybe some of my friends could help."
"It depends on how long that takes. And how capable your friends are, I guess. In any case, we should be prepared."
Chekov didn't exactly like the sound of that. "Prepared? What for?"
Matharus seemed almost insulted. "'What do you mean 'what for'? You already know that if anything happens to you, it happens to all of us. If you want to return us safely and keep yourself from harm in the process, there are some things you need to learn. If not, I'm afraid your life may not be quite the same thereafter. Or even be at all."
He made a very good point, Chekov could not deny. He closed his eyes as his heart skipped at the thought of dying for and alongside a million people he didn't even know.
"Okay…okay, what do I hef to do?"
More like what wouldn't he do? More than anything, he simply yearned to resume where he'd left off, to forget this mess and go back to the comfort of being the only person inside his head, to not having to be responsible for the well-being of a whole species. He wanted to go back to work with his friends and colleagues without confusing or frightening them. He just wanted to be Ensign Chekov of the USS Enterprise.
"Listen carefully, Young—" Matharus caught himself, "—I mean, listen carefully, Ensign or Chekov. To begin, when you touched the sphere, not only did you become host to our race, you inherited some of our advanced abilities which in turn activated a few interesting parts of your own brain."
He took a few seconds to straighten his coat and put on his familiar air of self-import.
"Allow me to explain…ah, briefly. Long ago, my people unlocked the secrets of the mind. We delved inward, probed the deepest reaches, found a rich treasure trove beyond anything you can comprehend, really amazing, yada-yada, and so on. Over the ages, we studied, harnessed, and perfected them until they became part of our natural existence. You now have access to a portion of these powers, and I'm going to teach you how to use them."
Matharus paused, allowing for the expected stunned reaction, however, Chekov had no idea how to respond to this revelation. How was he supposed to respond to anything anymore?
"Your human mind is similar in structure and function to ours," the alien continued after clearing his throat, "though, to put it bluntly, much less sophisticated."
"Oh, thank you."
"Utilizing these convenient similarities—and a recently abundant amount of free time—I've been able to locate and map the section of your brain the powers originate from."
"Ayy, what?!" Chekov exclaimed. "Are you telling me you went exploring inside my head while I was unconscious?"
Matharus blinked innocently. "Hey, I got bored, okay? You use a mere fraction of your brain and there's only so much to do while most of that portion it is sedated. Anyway, moving on—"
Chekov shifted in discomfort, not all of which was physical. "No, not moving on! I think we need to discuss boundaries, here!"
Matharus threw out his hands. "All right, okay, keep your pajamas on. It was only a technical venture and I didn't see anything personal, I assure you."
As much as he hated everything about Matharus foraging through his mind, Chekov would have to take his word for it. Even if he could go anywhere, he could never really get away from Matharus. If it weren't for the splitting headaches and that everyone on the ship was convinced he'd gone insane, that might the worst part of this ordeal.
"We can sort it out later, but now is not the time because we have work to do. As I was saying, to take advantage of your powers, the first step is usually to discover them, but since you've already done that…"
Chekov opened his mouth.
"Ah, without going into detail," the man rushed over the imminent expression of surprise, "from what I've heard, you basically fried part of this ship. An important part. With your mind. No, no, quit gawking at me like that, this is a good thing!"
"How can it possibly—"
"You should be grateful we get to skip ahead to the important stuff. Well, the basics of the important stuff, that is. Mastering your mind can take millennia in human time, but since your lifespan is significantly shorter and we're in a bit of a hurry, you'll be getting the crash course."
The ensign sighed, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. He was going to regret this one day, no doubt, however there was nothing he could do about it except work with the alien and get him and all his friends out of his head as quickly as possible.
"Fine," he finally mumbled.
"Okay, You know enough about the fundamental properties of matter and energy to…"
"'Fundamental'?" the teen blurted before he could stop himself, more than a little insulted. He wasn't the type to boast, nor did he use his unique proficiencies or circumstances for gain or privilege, but he hadn't spent his entire childhood in advanced physics lectures with people ten plus years his senior just to have his hard work labeled as "fundamental".
"Calm down, Ensign or Chekov—"
"And zat is not my name."
"Like I said, I haven't decided which I like best yet. And I simply meant you don't know everything. Not even close. And what you don't know is that lying dormant deep inside your being is a gift like you've never encountered, a raw strength ready and waiting for you to use."
This news, though irksome in many ways, was nothing short of terrifying in every other. Chekov thought about his friends again, about the damage he'd caused to the ship and what else he might be capable of should this power, whatever it may entail, be fully unleashed. It was already too clear that it was dangerous and volatile.
"In fact," said Matharus, "your entire species might naturally harbor the potential for these powers to some degree, they just haven't figured it out yet—you being the exception, of course. Allow me to step indoors…"
Chekov gasped at the blinding flash and the uncomfortable yet not-quite-painful prickling sensation of Matharus's consciousness passing through the outer borders of his mind.
Sincerely sorry about that. Things might be a little less complicated to demonstrate with me here in your head. You'll see what I mean soon enough.
"It's…it's okay," he replied, eyes squeezed shut. "Although, some warning next time would be nice."
Right. Can do.
Chekov nodded, then felt slightly sheepish as he realized corporeal gestures were now obsolete. Then again, why should he be embarrassed by that? He was already lying in the psych ward talking to himself.
Matharus jumped right into business. Well, then, let's get started. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Nothing new to either of us. But what if I told you that your own brainwaves could act as the force behind that reaction?
"I would tell you you're wrong. Or crazy."
That was rhetorical, by the way.
"Oh."
Well, my point is that this untapped area of your brain is capable of producing energy that can change the state of matter, move it, rearrange it, even create it…within reason. Everyone has limitations and we'll have to find out what yours are as we go. Now, if you'll excuse me a moment…
"Wait, where are you—aagh!" The ensign yelped at the sudden ice-like twinge deep within his head. "Will you stop zat?!"
Oops, wrong neural pathway…
"What heppened to giving me some warning first?"
Uh, just think of it as a new understanding of the term "nerve wracking", heh…
"Not funny."
Yes, I know, I know, I'm truly sorry. Okay, how did I get in last time? Enter through the temporal lobe, take a left at the hippocampus and follow the biggest nerve until I find the cluster that resembles a malformed platypus—aha!
Before Chekov could question how anything inside his head could resemble a malformed platypus, the twinge dissolved into a much less painful but no less unsettling hum at the very core of his brain. As it spread swiftly through his body, he found himself sifting through every feeling, physical or emotional, he'd ever had, but none could compare.
This is it. Welcome to the center of your central nervous system. Or, as we like to call it, the Origin.
"Wery creative."
Oh, would you give me a break? It sounds a lot more grand and mysterious in our language. Now, close your eyes and clear your mind.
Uncertain of just how one should go about clearing a mind with over a million people living in it, Chekov resorted to envisioning a blank, white void.
Good, good—wait, no, there's a little smudge of number theory over here in this corner.
"I kind of need zat."
And we need all the space you can spare, so it has to go. Don't worry, this is only a form of compartmentalizing. None of your thoughts or knowledge are actually disappearing, just compressing and moving. You'll get it all back.
"I hope so," Chekov, remarked, then reluctantly obliged and erased the thought.
Perfect. Now, that "humming" you hear is the sound of energy. A wave. That's what you'll eventually learn to control, and hopefully sooner than later. I'm going to trigger it again, and what I want you to do is feel it, concentrate on it, understand it. Then you must connect with and tame it.
"Connect…how do I do zat?"
That I can't tell you. Every individual's wave is unique to them and them alone. But trust me, you'll know when it happens, and once it does, everything else will come naturally. Ready?
"I guess…"
No sooner had the words left his mouth, the odd hum bloomed in his mind again, louder and sharper than ever. Startled and overwhelmed, Chekov scrambled internally to seize it, only for it to fade away just out of his grasp at the last second.
Hmm…not bad.
"Are you kidding? Even I know zat was terrible."
Matharus was quiet a moment. Yeah, yeah, that was actually pretty pathetic. Let's do it again, and this time, try associating the feeling with an image—the first image that comes to mind. I will say that this doesn't work for everyone, but I've heard that anchoring the energy in something your subconscious knows is real can create a sense of stability; a foundation on which to build confidence.
While Matharus's suggestion skirted the boundary of sound logic, the whole concept of anchoring a thought with an image seemed so vague and far-fetched to Chekov right then. What could he possibly associate with a hum he wasn't sure qualified as a sound in the first place? His thoughts drifted back to the whisperings of the sphere in the lab, his vision of the cave with the disembodied voices, his first encounter with Matharus where he'd been frozen in place, and abruptly realized that all of these occurrences had been accompanied by the same prickling chill, like slivers of ice caught in a swift electric current.
On three. One…two…three.
His head buzzed and instead of reaching for it, Chekov beckoned to it, letting the sensation come to him.
That's it, you've got it! Keep going!
The wave cocooned Chekov completely and the hum suddenly intensified to the point of discomfort, then pain. Unable to endure the growing fear any longer, he opened his eyes, then wished he'd kept them shut tight.
He could see. He could see everything.
No, no, no, don't panic! This is normal, I promise! Stay with me…
Don't panic? All around, above, below, between, even right through him, tiny glowing dots of light danced. They flitted about like fireflies scattered in the dark, some coursing in tendrils or veins in the air, channeling from one place to another, others swarming on the surfaces of objects in the room. They formed designs, constellations, patterns, symbols, equations Chekov had never seen before. Here was his very own universe full of stars, all at his command and the guy wanted him not to panic? So much unbridled power. So...unnatural. He had but to twitch and…
Chekov, came Matharus's voice, I understand this may be a lot for your human mind to handle, but—
A lot? No, it wasn't a lot. It was too much.
Chekov screamed.