Half the Battle

Posted on Sun 2nd Feb, 2025 @ 11:29pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Niamh MacAran MD
Edited on on Mon 3rd Feb, 2025 @ 11:14am

1,057 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: From The Ashes
Location: Chief Counselor's Office, Deck 83
Timeline: 0700 hours

The sight of Dr. Niamh MacAran pacing back and forth in front of his office door startled Paul Graves as he approached her. Being a Betazoid, he was used to sensing the emotions of people long before he got within speaking distance of them. Instead, Dr. MacAran's shields were locked down tight, and she looked intensely worried--then intensely relieved--to see him.

"Good morning, Dr. MacAran," Paul said.

"Good morning, sir. Thank you for seeing me at such an early hour."

Paul smiled, trying to relax her. "It's what I'm here for," he said and pressed the button for his office door. "Come on in. Would you like a beverage?"

"If you have spiced Carcosan seaclaid, I could use a large, steaming mugful," Niamh said and preceded him into the office as he gestured for her to enter.

"Swiss Miss?" Paul suggested as an alternative. The door hissed closed behind him.

Niamh made a face of comical disgust and shook her head. She seated herself on the loveseat in his office, and Paul seated himself in the armchair placed at right angles to the loveseat. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I had a patient yesterday--two patients, really. While I was becoming acquainted with them, I became privy to thoughts I shouldn't have read."

"I noticed how tightly shielded you are this morning," Paul said. "Is that why?"

Niamh nodded. "The person--one of them--thinks very forcefully. I wasn't expecting that. I don't usually have to shield so tightly."

"It happens," Paul said.

"Not to me, it doesn't!" Niamh crossed her arms over her chest and clutched her elbows. "It's an inexcusable lapse, a horrific invasion of another's privacy. I was trained better than that!"

"Again, it happens," Paul said firmly. "You construct your shields better, the next time you encounter that person, and you move forward. It's like overhearing a private and embarrassing conversation between two people in another room, whose voices are raised. You cannot control other people--or if you do, that's an even worse offense." He studied her. "What bothers you more, Lieutenant, the breach in telepathic etiquette or the content of the patient's thoughts?"

"They're both upsetting," Niamh said, "but the bigger problem is...the thoughts themselves. They were violent, angry, and the person was vigorously contemplating murder. Something about wanting to "slit my pretty little neck."

Paul gave Niamh a sharp look. "Then you should avoid contact with this patient in the future. Have you notified Security?"

"No, sir. I've already agreed to join the person for a yoga session, possibly more than once."

"Yoga? Why would you agree to such a thing after a threat like that, Lieutenant? I can think of a dozen ways a person could be murdered while doing yoga," Paul pointed out.

"There are always people in the practice studio, sir. I've been here for months and never seen the place empty," Niamh told him. "Also, while the patient has violent thoughts, it is not as if they are spilling out all over the place. There is control, and the patient's attention can be redirected. I observed that happening. When the patient doesn't feel murderous, their thoughts are--quite amusing, actually."

Paul listened closely and considered her reply. "All right. I'll trust that you're telepath enough to know when you're in serious danger and to know not to provoke this patient. However, I don't like it--and this is sounding to me like more than just an accidental reading."

"It absolutely was more than that," Niamh replied. "I take threats against my person seriously; I wanted to know exactly what I was dealing with. So yes, after the threat I did read more. I concluded that the situation was dangerous but not immediately so to me--and that I should shield better in future contacts with the patient." She let out a breath. "I examined this person. I can well understand the anger. It is very, very justified. So I don't know what to do. If I tell you who the person is, that would be a breach of confidentiality or at least of privacy, even worse than I've already committed. If I don't identify the person, that poses a safety risk to the station."

"Then don't identify the person; just tell me how to find them."

Niamh bit her lip. "It is likely that this person will visit you soon. If the person does--you'll know. I don't see how you wouldn't know. But if a non-telepathic counselor sees the person..." Niamh lifted her hands. "You might see this person on duty, but you'll likely work different shifts, so I don't know how often you'll meet."

Paul mulled that over. "You've actually helped me some, Lieutenant. I will...just have to do some detective work. Fortunately, I've had a good teacher in that. Thank you very much for bringing this to my attention."

"Do you think you can treat them?"

Paul shook his head. "I won't know that until I meet the person, get a sense of their overall mental state, learn the cause of their distress and figure out why their anger is justified. But at least I now know there is such a person needing help, and I can monitor the situation. Once I meet the person, we can develop a treatment plan."

"'Needing help' is a mild way to put it, sir," Niamh said. "My impression was of a person who is bitter and biding time."

"I see. Well, in that case I'd best get on with the detective work sooner rather than later," Paul said. "In the meantime, you should eat an energy-dense, fast-metabolizing breakfast. If you don't, shielding the way you are will have you exhausted before noon. And if jestral tea has any sort of calming effect on you, drink a pot or two of that. Otherwise, try chamomile."

Niamh chuckled. "Yes, Mother."

Paul's lips twitched in a momentary smile. He pointed to his office door. "Not joking. Go. Eat, Lieutenant. I have work to do. And be careful."

He waited until she was gone and then went to his desk. "Computer, compile a list of all patients Dr. Niamh MacAran attended yesterday." A moment later, the list appeared onscreen and Paul began reading. A name caught his eye. "Hm..." he murmured under his breath as he opened an additional file.

 

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