How to Break the Prime Directive (and get away with it)

Part 11: A Convulsing River of Anxiety

Sabian Grax considered pulling himself up into a sitting position. His head ached like he'd just been struck by a baseball the size of a battleship. Whatever had hit them, the Betazoid hadn't been the only one affected. The emotions Grax could feel in the room seemed to bear that out; the strongest thing he could feel was confusion, a fuzzy dizzness.Half the bridge crew were moaning and pulling themselves back onto their feet, and Grax couldn't tell where his dazed sense of confusion ended and theirs began. He felt nauseous, and the entire bridge was slowly spinning. Grax could the voice of Lieutenant Commander Tokal, barking orders. The sound was clear, but seemed far-away, like listening to a subspace relay in a Cochrane distortion field.

Grax tried to breathe in and out slowly, to regain his equilibrium. He thought he might throw up, if he moved, so he didn't. He could hear Tokal's queries to other parts of the ship; the replies coming in were varied, but there seemed to be no serious damage. Just as Sabian concluded that he should grit his teeth and force himself to a sitting position, the emotional tenor of the room changed. Grax gasped as an intense feeling of loss and longing washed over him. The feeling was one of profound emptiness, his chest and abdomen hollow, an empy drum where his guts ought to be. On top of it all, like a powerful electric current, ran a convulsing river of anxiety, fear mixed with worry. Oddly, despite the strength of the emotions, Grax could not isolate the associated thoughts. Normally, if someone felt this strongly about something, that person would be broadcasting coherent, comprehensible thoughts, like Ylmaq had done earlier. There were some fuzzy impressions of thoughts, but nothing Grax could quite make out, no matter how he tried. He found that his breathing was no longer slow and steady; instead, he was breathing in strangled pants.

Grax's whole field of view was suddenly obscured by Ylmaq. The Klingon was standing over him, teeth bared in a grimace.

"Ensign Grax?" Ylmaq's voice was firm. "If you are conscious, you should get up."

Grax stared at her, and tried to stuggle up into a sitting position. He collapsed back on6o 6h4 floor.

Ymlaq frowned. "Sabian," she ordered, "Get up."

Sabian suddenly became aware of Ylmaq's feelings - concern, mostly. He was a little surprised to note that there was no contempt. Given his current weakness, Grax had expected to feel just a touch of the unpleasant emotion from Ylmaq, and he was moved by the fact that she apparently harboured no such uncharitable sentiments towards him.

"Sabian, laying around like this on duty is unacceptable," Ylmaq said curtly. Then she slid an arm around his back.

Grax let Ylmaq support him physically, but he also used her emotions to his advantage. He allowed his mind to take hold of the Klingon's brusque concern,which felt like rough sandpaper in his arms. Grax held the feeling to himself, focussing on its simplicity. It was a feeling he knew, a feeling he understood, a feeling he could control. A feeling he could use to push the sense of loss away. He clung to the emotion with all the power available to his soul.

Ylmaq watched carefully as Sabian took a deep breath. Finally, he sat up.