Hrelle was floating in the Void again, the sights and sounds of his encounter with the Bajoran Orb of Tomorrows racing past him, impossible memories of things to come briefly touching his senses, like signposts barely glimpsed at the side of a road while he drove at top speed. He wanted to stop and study them, gain insight, clues, spoilers- how he and his son were meant to die-
"Captain?"
He bolted upright in his chair, making his Vulcan First Officer T'Varik snap back, withdrawing the fingertips which had been lightly touching certain pressure areas on his head, as part of her mindmeld with him.
Sitting between them, his wife Kami looked at each of them with concern, focusing on Hrelle. "Esek? Are you okay?"
He nodded silently, gravely, his eyes focused on T'Varik. "Well?"
The woman leaned back in her own chair, hands together in a contemplative steeple. "This is... not precedented with me, Captain, or any other Vulcans I am aware of. I made contact with the surface level of your consciousness, could access other areas if desired -- though of course I did not do so, Sir -- but the area of your mind involving your experience with the Orb was... shielded. I perceived it as a moment in your recent memories, but nothing more."
"Could this have been generated by a... resistance on his part?" Kami asked. "His prior traumatic experiences years ago with the telepath employed by the Bel-Zon?"
"I would say not. Captain Hrelle's trust in me was strong." She looked to him, regard clear in her otherwise serene demeanour. "And appreciated, by the way, Sir. Had there been even a subconscious resistance to telepathic contact, I would not have gotten as far as I had. No, I suspect that my lack of success in accessing the Orb visions is a by-product of the visions themselves, that they were designed to be for Captain's Eyes Only, as it were." She paused and concluded with, "I regret not being of more assistance to you, Sir."
Hrelle adjusted his rear end, giving more swishing room to his tail as it poked through the hole in the back of his chair, and tried to hide his disappointment. He had hoped that T'Varik's clarity might lend some clues to what he saw... and how to avoid what was to come. "No worries, Commander, it was worth a shot, anyway. And fortunately you didn't probe too deeply to see some of the really filthy thoughts I have about Kami."
His wife smirked. "I don't think she needs to mindmeld with you to guess at some of them."
The Vulcan offered the hint of amusement at the banter between husband and wife. "Indeed not. But this... shielded area... at least confirms that you did not imagine what had happened to you."
His expression sobered. "I don't know if that's comforting or not. Have we heard anything back from Bajor? Or Deep Space Nine?"
"Neither yet, Sir, beyond the initial message of gratitude for returning the Orb to them. The Bajoran religious bureaucracy is... extensive and challenging. And Captain Sisko is no doubt extremely busy following the Klingon attack on his station and the withdrawl of the Empire from the Accords."
Hrelle grunted, not wanting to have been reminded that the Galaxy was moving along despite his personal crises -- and moving in a direction that he didn't like. "Well, I was hoping he might spare me a few minutes at least, since he's the Bajorans' Messiah and all-"
"'Emissary'," T'Varik corrected dryly.
"Whatever."
"Captain, you have described visions of both the imminent death of yourself and Misha, and your later attainment of the position of Academy Superintendent; neither can occur together in the same timeline. I should remind you of the Multiverse View: that we exist in a near-infinite number of quantum realities that can be either similar or radically different to our own, and that the futures you glimpsed are probabilities, not certainties."
He smiled. "Of course. Who knows? There might even be a reality where I'm a thin, serious, mature vegetarian who loves exercise."
She raised an eyebrow in response. "Perhaps... albeit somewhere
very
distant to our own reality, of course."
He rose to his feet. "Well, we've got a party to join, and you have a godson to spoil."
T'Varik rose as well. "I can assure you, Sir, that I will
not
spoil Misha. His evening activities will be as carefully balanced as his evening meal."
"I have no doubt," Kami quipped, hugging the Vulcan. "Thanks again for trying, T'Varik."
She nodded to each of them in turn. "Enjoy your party. And try not to overindulge on the bloodwine, its deleterious effects are not exaggerated."
Hrelle smirked. "Speaking from experience, Commander? What's a drunk Vulcan like anyway?"
"Unpleasant. Good evening, Sir, Captain."
As T'Varik left, Kami looked to Hrelle with anxiety. "Are you okay, Esek?"
"Sure." He shrugged and walked away, pretending to be distracted by a silent flashing alert on a PADD on the desk in their quarters. He lifted it up and read it: it was merely an update on their progress to Capella IV in the Alpha Aurigae system, as well as a news alert informing the public about the various pre-arranged meeting points for any Klingons in Federation space who were heading back to Klingon territory. Which Hrelle assumed meant all the Klingons; since Chancellor Gowron withdrew the Empire from the Accords, Klingons were ordered to return to their space, or face Discommendation for themselves and their houses.
Sadly, this included their civilian surgeon Dr Kline. Hrelle would be eternally grateful to the man for his help and support during the Vlathi crisis, and it twisted the Caitian's stomach to think that their relationship was being sundered because of the idiocy of their respective governments. Especially when, in the face of the growing threat from the Dominion and the Cardassian Union, the last thing the Federation and the Empire should be doing is becoming hostile to each other.
Kami walked to him, took the PADD he wasn't reading from his hands and set it aside, replacing it with her own hands. "I've been doing my own research on the Orbs, and other means of apparent prophecy, with the help of our Science cadets, and we've learned that visions are not necessarily meant to be taken literally. Often they are a symbolic reflection of your own subconscious feelings."
He looked to her. The thought wasn't alien to him either, though he feared he was avoiding the truth by entertaining it further. But hearing it from the woman he loved and trusted bolstered him.
His reaction prompted her to continue. "You know we both face fear and guilt over Misha's injuries, at being made to face the reality of his, and our, mortality. It's something no parents wants to face, or should have to."
His tail twitched in consternation. "But... this life we lead... if I took Misha back with me to Cait-"
"Then you could be doing the very thing that fulfils the vision you had of both of you dying. And even if you did make it safely home, that's no guarantee of continued safety. Have you talked with my firstborn Mirow about his job on Cait? He's a rescue pilot for the Emergency Services. It keeps him busy, because despite being far away from the Bel-Zon and the Dominion and the Ferasans, and despite all the safety features built into our modern Twenty-Fourth Century lives and all our medical advances... bad things still happen. Accidents, disasters. People still suffer, and die.
Be careful? Yes, of course, but then we always are. But I'm not prepared to let fear rule our lives. And neither should you, Esek." She paused, and then asked, "Have you changed your mind about telling Sasha about your visions?"
"No," he replied decisively. "She doesn't need to know, to get upset."
She nodded. "No, because your daughter has never faced the possibility of the death of a parent, right?"
