The Push

Posted on Thu 11th Jul, 2019 @ 12:35am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD
Edited on on Sun 11th Aug, 2019 @ 12:30am

1,616 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Deck 83, Chief Counselor's Office
Timeline: MD 6, 1550

Previously ... Finally, she decided the best choice was Dr. Graves. She knew he was aware of her. She had only to increase his awareness, in some way, and let him know what she knew. And then she could wait.

And now the consultation attempt ....

Paul had just ushered out his last patient for the day and turned on some music when he felt the presence that he associated with Victoria Briggs enter his office. Oddly, he didn't sense her husband outside in the hallway. Paul checked again, just to be certain. No, Dallas Briggs wasn't there.

"Computer, music off," Paul said, though he wondered why he bothered. He couldn't hear Victoria--but the sense of her was so strong, so determined, it demanded his undivided attention. "I'm here, Mrs. Briggs. May I help you?" All he could ask were 'yes or no' questions.

"That's what I'm here to find out," she answered, with a flare of hope. He sensed her, and that was a start. She built up an image of herself in her mind, to see if he could come to see her, at least. There was no response, as he continued to wait expectantly. Frustration, again. Pacing the floor, Vic tried to think of anything that would get through, and she remembered the moment she had been so desperate that she had slapped her hand on Dal's chest, and it had made contact. Maybe if she felt desperate enough, she could make her hand psychically send a message on his PADD. Or his computer?

Moving around the desk, she first experimented with putting her hand on the counselor's. She passed through it and the desk beneath. So ... helping Dal had been an aberration. Frustration built, and she turned to the computer. It was electronic, so maybe she could access it somehow. Subatomic particles? Like medicine, engineering was not her forte, but she was a scientist. She could try approaching this scientifically.

"You're ... frustrated, but now hopeful," Paul said. He realized abruptly that she was now standing behind his desk. He went to join her. "You're right here," he said extending a hand and pausing just shy of what he presumed was her head. He glanced at his desk and paused. "Are you trying to use my computer?" It was the only thing on his desk worth fiddling with at the moment.

The man is a problem solver, she thought with surprise. It wasn't surprising that he was intelligent, but that he was logical was. Her attempts at using the computer were not working, but she decided to try integrating with it. It never worked with people ... or furniture, for that matter. This was more important. This had to work.

She pulled her vapor into a tight ball, as small as she could and tried to overlay the computer, to sink down into it. Like her experience with furniture, she simply sank through it. Rising back up through the desk, she was angry. Angry at the man who had attacked Dal, angry at herself for not understanding how to make things work, even angry at Dal for being attacked and at this doctor for not being able to help her. In her frustration, she hit the top of the desk ... and her fist didn't go through. In fact, it made the computer jump slightly.

"Yow!" Paul said at the sudden noise. He looked pensive. "If you have to get that angry just to physically manifest, you're going to be exhausted before you can finish whatever you're trying to say." He looked around his office, thinking aloud. "We need to find you a way to communicate that doesn't require you to manipulate matter ... which is probably why you wanted the computer. Hm." Paul looked at the space where he felt that Victoria was. "Can you think it to me? I'm more empath than telepath, but I'll let down all my barriers, and we can see what happens."

"Yes! That's worth trying. I'm not getting anywhere on my own. How best to do it?" Victoria thought for a few seconds and then decided that maybe building a picture in her mind of what happened would be the most likely thing to yield a positive result. It would have the advantage of not requiring language, and also could be built with emotion, which seemed, in her case, to be a stronger method of communicating.

She closed her eyes, and felt a flicker of amusement that even in ghostly format, closing her eyes seemed the best way to concentrate. Slowly, she thought about the place where Dallas had been attacked, not exactly where it was, but the details of the scene just before she saw the face of his assailant. She built carefully, and let her emotions run wild with the fear and distress she had felt, and still felt, over what happened. She let nothing distract her focus on showing Dal and the other man fighting, the knife coming out, but not his face yet.

Paul let down his barriers and flinched as the wave of recalled fear and worry hit him. He had to force himself not to analyze, but to just let it flow over him, to experience the fear and to experience what had caused it.

"You were afraid--are afraid?--for someone. I'm guessing your husband, because he isn't with you." Paul bit his lip. "Computer, locate Lt. Dallas Briggs."

"Lt. Dallas Briggs is in Sickbay, OR 1," the computer replied.

"OR 1?! He's in surgery?" Paul shot a look toward the empty space where Victoria was. "This can't be for the leg surgery," Paul said. "So something happened to him? That's why you're so afraid?"

At least the fear was getting through, so Victoria pushed it harder at him. She didn't know his limitations, but if it were too much, surely he would close the ... conduit?

"Computer--Enable Chief Counselor's medical privacy override--Graves, Paul Edward. What surgical procedure is Lt. Dallas Briggs currently undergoing?"

The computer paused a moment and then answered, "Voiceprint match confirmed. Medical privacy override enabled. Lt. Dallas Briggs received treatment for a tension pneumothorax and hemothorax secondary to a stab wound to his right lung. He is currently undergoing pulmonorraphy."

"That explains why you're so afraid," Paul said. "Were you with him when it happened?"

Hearing the medical speak for what happened to her husband was so cold, so analytical! "Yes, I was afraid! He could still die, though I trust that he won't. The doctor seems competent ... oh, why am I even talking! You can't hear me. Let's try this again," Victoria said, determined to get the identity of the killer to someone. If not this man, she didn't know who, and despair began to creep into her emotions as she built up the picture once again, trying to get him to see what she saw. The careful build up to the stabbing, and then she pushed the face of Dal's attacker.

She went over it and over it in her mind, every nuance of expression, the hatred, the anger. A question about why so much anger and hatred from a hired assassin tried to creep in, but she pushed it away and went back over all his features again. And yet again. Oh, if only she could have this connection with a sketch artist! Something had to get through, or Dallas would not be safe even when he healed. See it again, Vic! she thought.

"You are trying very hard to tell me something." Paul sat down in a chair and closed his eyes so he could listen better. And then he realized he was seeing something--but it was a mess, like Nude Descending a Staircase.

"Are you trying to show me the person who attacked your husband?" Paul asked. "I keep getting glimpses here and there--an arm holding a knife, a nose, a jawline--but it's not sticking together. I'm guessing you're trying to give me a clear image, but you can only concentrate on one part of the guy's body at a time." He frowned and spoke under his breath. "We need a way to see the whole picture."

The ghost didn't know whether to be happy anything had gotten through, or unhappy that not enough had. After a moment, she decided to project happiness, so that Dr. Graves would know he was on the right track. Now, she had the beginnings of a partnership. But they needed more. Maybe if there were another Betazoid on the base, they could pool their powers?

Paul's eyes fastened on one of his office paintings, Waterfall, by Elena Kostyrya of Earth. It interested him because he could almost imagine that the falling water made recognizable shapes as it bounced off rocks and tumbled downward. In the foreground a tree in autumn plumage clung to an outcropping of rock, its bare roots dangling below. "Victoria, I think you need an artist--and not only that, I think this particular artist might not be at all perturbed by you being a ghost. Do you mind if we try her?"

Fear came first, quickly followed by confusion. An artist? How would she connect with an artist? Having come this far, Victoria had to trust the man who was at least partly aware of her, so again, she projected happiness. He seemed to feel emotions more than anything. Not having a lot of experience with his species, she didn't know if that was usually the case. She'd always thought of them as mind readers ... perhaps, they were as different from one another as any other humanoid species.

"Computer, connect me with Ms. Purulence Addams, please."

 

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