TNG 47 - The Q Continuum 1 - Q-Space (c) by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Publisher: Pocket Books.
Published: 2011-01-02T07:59:42.261000+00:00

Deanna Troi shut her eyes, doing her best to filter out the emotions of the crew members present in the conference room as well as, more faintly, throughout the ship. Speak to me, she thought to the gaseous mass outside the ship. Let me know what you’re feeling.

Suddenly, an unexpected “voice” intruded into her thoughts. You have to talk to the commander, it urged her silently. Make him understand. I have to go on with my work. It’s vitally important.

She recognized the telepathic voice immediately. Lem Faal. How desperate was he, she worried, that he would take advantage of her sensitivity like this? Please, she told him. Not now. Please leave me alone. She needed to have all her faculties focused on the task of reading the Calamarain.

But my work! he persisted. His telepathic voice, she noted, lacked the hoarseness and shortness of breath that weakened his physical voice. It was firm and emphatic, unravaged by disease.

Fortunately, years of dealing with her mother had given her plenty of experience at dispelling an unwanted telepathic presence from her mind. No! Faal protested as he felt her squeeze him out of her consciousness. Wait! I need your help!

“Leave me alone,” she repeated, before banishing him entirely.

“Deanna?” Will Riker asked. Her eyes snapped open and she saw him watching her with a confused, anxious expression. So were Data and Lieutenant Leyoro and the others on the bridge. She hadn’t realized she had spoken aloud.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was . . . distracted.”

“By the Calamarain?” the commander asked. She could feel his concern for her well-being.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. She would have to speak to the commander about Faal later; there was something frightening about the scientist’s obsession with his experiment, beyond simple determination to see his work completed before death claimed him. First, though, there were still the Calamarain. “Let me try again,” she said, closing her eyes once more.

This time Faal did not interfere. Perhaps he had finally gotten the message to keep out of her head. Screening out all other distractions, she opened herself up to the alien emotions seeping into the ship from outside.

They tasted strange to her mental receptors, like some exotic spice or flavor she couldn’t quite place. Was that anger/fear or fear/anger or something else altogether? She felt queer impressions suffusing the air around her, like the steady drone of the humming she had heard in the background ever since the cloud had surrounded the ship. They were relentlessly consistent, never quavering or varying in tone or intensity. She couldn’t name the feeling, but it was a constant, unchanging, a firm and unshakable conviction/resolution/determination to do what must be done, whatever that might be. She probed as hard as she was able, but the feeling never changed. That was all she could sense, the same inflexible purpose surrounding the Enterprise on all sides.

Convinced that she’d heard enough, she opened her eyes slowly, took a few deep breaths, and let the alien emotions recede into the background.

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