The girl felt herself floating in some kind of void. She could hear voices but could not make out what they were saying. Her mind drifted and she opened her eyes, looking down to see leaves. Her heart was pounding and her body shaking with fright. Something terrible had happened. She looked at her hands — they were grimy and covered with blood. Her stomach rumbled and she wanted to cry but she knew that she could not make a sound. Not until she knew that the people talking below her were not the same ones who had been there before. Vaguely, she could remember being told to go hide and be quiet. She’d crawled into the tiny gap between the house and the ground and hidden there, covering her ears against the loud whizzing noises and shouting. It had been very hot, she remembered, but she stayed hidden until everything was silent. Then, she’d crawled out. The people in the house had been laying on the floor and had not moved when she touched them. She tried to speak to them but the words to call them no longer existed in her mind. She shook them to see if that would help and patted her hands in the wetness coming from their bodies in case that might do something. When it did nothing, she left them alone and began looking through other houses to see if there were other people who could help her rouse the ones who were laying in the floor in her house. But all of the people she found were laying down like those two had been and all of them had red stuff leaking out of them in places. The girl padded back to the familiar house and began looking for the place where she had seen food come from. She remembered one of the people would talk to the wall in a certain spot and food would appear. What words they said, though, she couldn’t remember.
It was dark now. All of the lights were gone. The girl tried to remember where the wall-place-that-gave-food was. When she could not find it, she wanted to cry. But she had been told to be quiet and to hide. So, she returned to her hiding spot and slept until the light came back and woke her up. She crawled back out in search of the wall-place again, her stomach growling and her head pounding. Inside the house, she noticed that the people who were laying down had not moved at all. And they looked different. The red-stuff was different, too. It was browner now and the people were purple where they touched the floor and white where they did not. When she tried to move them, they wouldn’t move at all and they were much colder now. She wondered why that was. She also wondered what it was that made them not move and why she was able to move.
A sudden noise brought the girl out of her thoughts. She went out of the house and looked around for the reason for the sound. It made her think of the same sound that made the others tell her to hide and be quiet. Which is why she was in the tree now. More people were walking around. They weren’t the same kind of people that she lived with in the town or in the house and they weren’t the same kind of people she’d seen making the whizzing noises with their arm-sticks and bright lights yesterday. Something about the way they were dressed was familiar to her. They didn’t hold the arm-sticks and the things they did hold in their hands made happy sounds. She liked these people but she was still scared because they were different. Was she supposed to keep hiding and being quiet? One of the people walked into her house. She worried that he might lay down and not move like the people who lived there. But the girl didn’t know what to do to stop that from happening.
Something flashed in her mind. A sound. A man used to make a sound and it made her happy because some animal used to come running when the sound was made. She couldn’t remember words but she could remember how to make that sound. Pursing her lips, she blew through them. A sharp, piercing whistle startled her. She shook her head and made the sound again. The man came out of the rear of the house and looked around. She made the sound again and he walked over to the tree. He raised the singing-box in his hand and pointed it towards her. It made sounds that made her happy and she made her sound again. The man moved around to the thing she had used to climb up the tree and climbed up himself. She turned and regarded him calmly. He said some words to her but she did not know them. They sounded familiar but made her stomach hurt and her head ache. Finally, he switched and made different words and she smiled. She didn’t know these words either but they didn’t make her stomach hurt like the other ones did.
“Tonk’peh, ko-kan. Olau tu uf?” he asked. She whistled again when he fell silent and he quirked one of his long, black eyebrows at her. She was fascinated by them and felt her own — they were curved but the man’s were straight. Next she touched her ears and frowned when she felt that they were rounded. His were pointed. She examined her hair next — it was white and his was black. The only thing they had in common was their skin being pale. He had switched back to speaking the other words and she didn’t like that. She shook her head and whistled. He sighed and tapped something on his chest. “Ki’tal-tor nash-veh pi’ko-kan. Ki’gal-tor ish-veh dahkuh tevun sos’eh.” Some other words came from the thing on his chest and she blinked and looked curious. The girl began scooting closer to the man and he nodded, gesturing for her to follow him. She listened as he spoke and said words that sounded like “Komihn” and “spes-fam.” Finally, he turned to her and tapped his chest. “Sevik.” He pointed at her. She whistled. He shook his head and tapped his chest again. “Sevik.” She whistled when he pointed at her. Finally, he gave her a tiny grin. “Sevik,” he said, pointing at himself. “Teresh-ka,” he said, pointing at her. The girl blinked and nodded. He pointed at himself.
“Sevik,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse from disuse. “Teresh-ka,” she said, pointing to herself. She walked over to him and tugged on his pants and then motioned for him to squat down. He seemed to understand and did so. She tapped his ear and said “Sevik?” and then tapped her own.
“Whl’q’n,” he explained, tapping his ear. “Komihn,” he said, tapping her own. “Olau tu uf?” he asked. Her stomach rumbled and he quirked an eyebrow. She stared at him, fascinated by that. She felt at her own eyebrow as she tried to mimic the expression. He rose back up and held out his hand for her to grasp. She took it by instinct and followed him knowing, somehow, that Sevik would keep her safe.
“What do you mean ‘you see a bird?’” the EMH asked, sounding exasperated.
“Just that, Doctor. I see a bird fluttering around her. It looks lost and confused. It keeps whistling as if it is waiting for someone to answer it,” Kes replied. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Well, her psilosynine levels are elevated and there is a lot of activity going on in her paracortex. She could be projecting something telepathically. Why she’d be projecting a bird, I have no idea.”
“It has some meaning to her,” Kes said confidently. “In some way, she identifies with it.”
“Perhaps we should ask Commander Chakotay to come in here. It could be her spirit animal,” the EMH snorted. Kes resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I can’t make sense of her medical records. Why on Earth is she listed as human but her planet of origin is given as Vulcan? Her date of birth is listed as the fourth of K’ri’lior 2352 or Stardate 31357.87 but there’s a note from the Vulcan government that indicates that it doesn’t actually reflect her date of birth. For all I know, it could be the date she spoke her first word or she went through her kahs-wan or got married! For a species so dedicated to logic, they certainly have made a mess of her records,” he snarled.
“Doctor, maybe you could ask the Captain or Lieutenant Tuvok to help you? They may know more about her background,” Kes suggested. “Or perhaps one of her friends could tell you more?”
“Kes, from what little I do know about Ensign T’Loran, the woman doesn’t have much of a social life. She goes to work, she eats alone, she returns to her quarters and mediates. Occasionally, she spends time studying or working on a research project involving theoretical astrophysics and propulsion engineering but, aside from that, she’s practically a hermit.”
“Neelix said he saw Ensign Vorik speaking with her yesterday evening and Vorik is the same one who brought her in earlier. I’d say that qualifies them as friends.”
“You don’t know much about Vulcans,” the EMH sighed as he tapped his comm badge. “Sick Bay to Ensign Vorik. Please report when you get the chance.” The doctor then tapped his badge again. “Sick Bay to the Captain.”
“Yes, Doctor?” Captain Janeway’s voice came over the comm link.
“If you and Mr. Tuvok have a few free moments, I could use your help in Sick Bay unraveling a bit of a mystery surrounding Ensign T’Loran.”
“Has she regained consciousness?”
“Not at this time, I’m afraid.”
“We’ll be there shortly, Doctor. Janeway out.”
“Is she dreaming? The frequency is very different than I would expect,” Kes noticed. “Her eyes are moving and she’s got increased theta wave activity.”
“More proof that she’s Betazoid,” the EMH muttered. “They reach REM sleep at a different frequency than other humanoids. And just wait until she hits mid-life,” he grimaced. “Hopefully all that Vulcan training will do some good because Betazoid females go through a phase that makes pon farr look like a walk in the park.”
Kes sighed. The doctor was in one of his moods. He would never admit it, of course. He hated it when records weren’t kept in proper order or when information was hidden from him. He also did have something of a prejudice against Vulcans for their tendency to ignore his advice and go their own way. Their closed-lipped nature concerning their own medical science also annoyed him. A short time later, the doors to Sick Bay opened and Vorik walked in. “Ah, Ensign,” the EMH said warmly but dryly, “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“Lieutenant Torres ordered me to report immediately when I began experiencing…visions,” Vorik said haltingly. He blinked when his gaze fell on Ensign T’Loran. “A teresh-ka,” he whispered. “The same one I was seeing in Engineering.”
“Are you referring to the little bird?” Kes asked.
“Yes. It is a bird native to Vulcan.”
“I’ve been seeing it as well, Mr. Vorik,” the Ocampan said reassuringly. “I’m not certain what it means. Still, I like it,” she smiled. “It’s cute and it sings so beautifully.”
“At least you know you’re not hallucinating,” the doctor muttered. He took a quick scan of Vorik’s brain. “Everything’s normal. You may return to duty if you wish.”
“Lieutenant Torres would like an update on Ensign T’Loran’s status,” the Vulcan said calmly.
“She’s still unconscious. I’ve repaired her injuries. She’ll be fine just as soon as she decides to wake up. It will be another few days before she can report for duty, though, given the damage to her lung.”
Vorik said nothing. He moved to stand next to her bed, gazing down at her. He had his hands clasped in front of him with his index fingers extended. The small bird continued to flutter around her, chirping and singing. It would land and peer at him questioningly every so often, trilling a question that he could not puzzle out. He closed his eyes and blocked out all distractions, focusing his thoughts on the Ensign in front of him. Words began to become clear and though he could not see the memory she was experiencing — he was unskilled with mind-melds and would not attempt such a thing on someone who was unconscious and could not give consent — he could hear the thoughts she was projecting. “Hello, little girl,” he heard a Vulcan man saying. The voice was a warm, comforting presence. “Are you well?” A pause. The man spoke to someone else in the distance. “I’ve found a very young girl. She’s two years old, perhaps. Human. Mute, possibly. She hasn’t spoken — just whistled. She looks as if she may be ill whenever I speak Federation Standard so I’m speaking Vulcan. No…she seems calm. Fascinated by me. Curious. At once.” There was another pause. The man spoke again. “Sevik.” A sense of confusion. “Sevik,” he repeated. A piercing whistle. “Sevik,” the man said, followed by “Teresh-ka.” A beat and then a young girl’s voice spoke. “Sevik,” she repeated. “Teresh-ka. Sevik?” a sense of curiosity. Vorik felt as if someone were tapping gently on the tip of his left ear. “Vulcan,” came the man’s reply followed by “Human.”
Vorik opened his eyes. He felt as if he had violated T’Loran’s privacy even if she was, somehow, inadvertently broadcasting her thoughts for any telepath to pick up. The connection with the bird was clear now. It was a nickname she’d been given by a Vulcan when she was very young. He cleared his throat and T’Loran groaned softly, her forehead furrowing. “Are you well?” he found himself asking in Vulcan.
“Fa-sami?” she blinked. Vorik was at a momentary loss for how to respond. He was clearly not her grandfather.
“Doctor, she’s awake,” Kes called out as she moved to stand on the other side of T’Loran’s bed. “How are you feeling?”
T’Loran blinked again, staring at Vorik in confusion. “No, you’re not…Ensign, forgive me,” she whispered. “I was dreaming about my grandfather, about when he first found me,” she muttered.
“Ensign T’Loran, glad you decided to rejoin us,” the EMH said. “You’ve given everyone quite a bit of excitement. Ensign Vorik, could you give us a bit of room? Now there, Ensign T’Loran, what is the last thing you remember?”
“Suder…Crewman Suder was dragging me through the Aft Lounge. He opened the EPS panel and shoved me through. I laid flat…there was a lot of smoke. He closed the panel. My left arm was badly burned. I think I passed out. I don’t remember,” she sighed. “I managed to squeeze under the plasma conduit into the Jefferies tube. I crawled to the junction. I was going to climb up to Sick Bay but it hurt too much. I blacked out again. Then I woke up here.”
The door to Sick Bay opened and closed. The EMH turned and saw that the Captain and Lieutenant Tuvok had arrived. T’Loran tried to sit up but Kes and the doctor both moved to stop her. “Captain, Lieutenant,” she said.
“As you were, Ensign,” Captain Janeway said briskly. “I understand you’ve been through quite the ordeal. Can you remember how you wound up in the Jefferies tube?”
“She was just telling us that Mr. Suder placed her in there,” the EMH replied for her. “Why did you not attempt to get away from him, Ensign?”
“I…couldn’t move,” she said, sounding confused. “I was aware of what was going on around me but I was unable to move.”
“Did Crewman Suder attack you?” Tuvok asked.
“We were in Engineering. He had just returned from his meal break. It was just after 0300. I had the strangest sense that he was angry with me. Enraged. I’ve never felt anything like that before. He began choking me but I used a nerve pinch to force him to open his hand. He had me cornered, though, and he took out a coil spanner. I couldn’t block the blow — it landed on my right arm. He grabbed me and struck me on the back of my head. The Aft Lounge is the next thing I remember,” she sighed.
Vorik moved to try to leave but Captain Janeway fixed her gaze on him. “Mr. Vorik, I understand we have you to thank for Ms. T’Loran’s continued good health. Can you substantiate her claims?”
“Her story matches what I saw in the Jefferies tube behind the Aft Lounge.”
“If you are done interrogating my patient, I have some questions of my own for her,” the doctor muttered sourly. “Ensign, can you tell me what species you are?”
“Human,” she said, sounding confused.
“What leads you to believe that you are human?”
“I have always been told that I was human, doctor. Ever since my grandfather found me when I was a toddler. Or perhaps I should specify my adoptive grandfather, Sevik. According to him, I was the only survivor of an attack on a settlement on Dessica II. There was a settlement of Federation citizens who sent out a distress call and the Vulcan patrol ship he was on responded. The Vulcan government and the Federation tried to locate my next-of-kin but could not and Sevik’s daughter V’Las and her husband Delvok legally adopted me when I was five. I know it’s unusual for a human to be adopted by Vulcans but my situation was rather unique.”
“Do you remember your birth name?”
“No. I have never been able to remember that. Sevik nicknamed me Teresh-ka because he found me hiding in a tree and because I would only whistle at first — I would not speak. He said it took a few attempts and he had to abandon using Federation Standard and resort to Vulcan before I would verbalize at all. According to him, I resisted learning Federation Standard until after I was adopted.”
“Do you remember your true date of birth, Ensign?” the doctor asked, growing more frustrated.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I do not. We estimated that I was two years of age when I was found on the fourth of K’ri’lior 2352. I would have been born some time in 2350. Once my mother and father had adopted me and the Vulcan government recognized me as part of their family, they issued a birth certificate with the fourth of K’ri’lior 2350 listed as my date of birth.”
“Have you ever had any reason to suspect that you are not human at all, Ensign?”
“No. Why would I?” she asked, sounding more perplexed than alarmed. “It would be illogical to suspect I am anything other than human. There were only humans among the dead.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re laying down then,” he snorted. “Because you’re not human, Ensign. You’re Betazoid.”
Vorik blinked and then gazed at T’Loran’s face. She looked somewhat confused but was not protesting or arguing the way many would. “I’ve never shown any signs of being telepathic,” she replied. “I was tested many times as a child.”
“Betazoids rarely show any trace of telepathic abilities until adolescence,” the EMH explained. “You are just something of a late bloomer, Ensign, but I assure you, you are telepathic. You may require some training in order to make use of your telepathic abilities but you do possess them.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” T’Loran said calmly as she tried to process the sudden revelation. “As a medical professional, do you have any information on how I should begin this training?”
“I’m afraid that, when it comes to telepathy, Betazoids are as close-lipped as Vulcans,” the EMH sighed. “The only person who could help you there would be Mr. Suder — obviously not an option.”
“So you had no idea you were Betazoid, Ensign?” Tuvok asked.
“No, Lieutenant.”
“And your adopted family never inquired as to your origins?” he pressed.
“The government on Dessica II was less than helpful,” T’Loran replied. She lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead as if her head were beginning to ache. “And I truly have no recollection of my life on Dessica II at all. I can only vaguely remember a few things — most about the events that led up to my grandfather finding me. My apologies if it that is of no use to you.”
“No apologies needed, Ensign,” the Capitan said quickly. “Dessica II has always been a lawless world and you were just barely out of infancy. That you can recall anything at all is extraordinary.”
The EMH cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “While all of this is no doubt fascinating, Ensign T’Loran needs her rest. I’m almost sorry I called everyone down here. Ensign, I’ll do some research to see if I can help keep you from accidentally broadcasting your thoughts until we figure out some training regimen so that you can gain mastery of your abilities.”
“Have I been broadcasting my thoughts?” she asked, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“Ensign Vorik and Kes have both been seeing visions of some kind of little bird,” the EMH said coolly.
“I think it’s cute,” Kes said warmly.
“May I return to my quarters?” T’Loran asked in a soft undertone. “I would like to meditate.”
“There’s no real reason to keep you in Sick Bay,” the EMH said, disapproval evident in his voice, “but do take it easy for the next few days. I want you to report back here once per day so I can check your lungs and make certain no infection is setting in. You are not cleared to return to duty.”
“Tuvok, you know I rarely question your decisions as Chief of Security,” Captain Janeway said once she and her Vulcan second officer were back in her ready room. “However, I require an explanation as to why you were interrogating the victim of a brutal attack about her origins when we have her Starfleet records right in front of us. Ensign T’Loran’s story was known to me when I accepted her as part of this crew. I knew she was a human raised by a Vulcan family. I know how unusual it is for Vulcans to adopt children at all, let alone alien children. I also know that the reason she was adopted was because her grandfather, Sevik, found her intriguing and because his daughter was unable to have children after her son was born — and before you ask, no, I don’t know why. Vulcans, being a matriarchal society, naturally tend to want daughters as well as sons. T’Loran is exactly who and what she says she is. Sevik believed her human and since she’s never been seriously ill or injured before, no one’s bothered to do more than the most rudimentary scans.”
“Why was I not informed of her history when I returned to Voyager?”
“Lieutenant, Ensign T’Loran is one woman out of a crew of over one hundred individuals. I hardly thought it worth the trouble to take you aside with all the trouble we’ve been through and tell you about her background. Aside from her background being a bit out-of-the-ordinary, there’s nothing to distinguish her from any other bright, young Vulcan woman.”
“What is known about the attack on Dessica II that caused her to be orphaned?” Tuvok asked.
“You don’t have enough of a mystery on your plate right now?” the captain asked wryly. “All evidence pointed to it being a Romulan attack though the Vulcan government discounts that. Sevik said that he thought it might have been a renegade band, perhaps hired by a different faction on Dessica II itself, who were out to make it clear that they did not want the Federation’s eyes on them. However, T’Loran is right about one thing — there were only humans found among the dead. How a Betazoid infant wound up among them may be something we never figure out.”
T’Loran was beginning to wonder if there was a place on the ship where she could hide for a few hours without raising alarms or it being obvious that she was doing exactly that — hiding. In the few days since she’d been attacked, her telepathic abilities had nearly overwhelmed her at times. She could hear the errant thoughts of every person she passed. She hoped that her own thoughts weren’t as loud as others were. She had no way of determining how effective her shields were given that she’d spent most of her time trying to avoid people. She disliked being privy to so many of their thoughts and the onslaught of emotions she could feel emanating from many of them took all of her control to keep at bay. She’d considered requesting a meeting with Lieutenant Tuvok in order to seek his counsel and advice but after hearing that he was still recovering from his experience with a mind-meld gone wrong with Lon Suder, she became determined to work it out on her own. What she truly needed was a quiet space apart from others with at least one telepath she could trust to help her. Given that there were only four other telepaths on board Voyager — one of whom was in the Brig — she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find a way to deal with this sudden new sense that had been thrust upon her.
“Ensign,” she heard a warm, familiar voice call out to her, pulling her from her thoughts. “Is there a particular reason you are wandering through the labs in such a furtive manner?”
“Ensign,” she nodded politely to Vorik. “I am looking for a quiet place where I can explore my telepathic abilities.”
“Alone?” Vorik asked, sounding confused.
“That was my intent,” she sighed.
“Ensign, I do not mean to pry into your affairs but it is incredibly difficult to practice telepathy on one’s own,” he said dryly. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”
“I would not want to impose on you, Ensign,” T’Lorna replied carefully. “And I understand that Lieutenant Tuvok has experienced some difficulties due to potential incompatibilities between Betazoid and Vulcan telepathic styles.”
“It would be no imposition,” Vorik countered. “We can take better precautions and go more slowly than Lieutenant Tuvok did. I fear he may have acted somewhat rashly and illogically in his desire to uncover a motive in Mr. Suder’s criminal behavior when mere psychopathy offered a sufficient if unsatisfactory explanation for his behavior.”
“I had similar thoughts as well, Ensign,” T’Loran agreed. “I suppose we can attempt to work together on this but I would appreciate your discretion in the matter and I will apologize in advance for any illogical or overly emotional displays or sentiments that may occur during these sessions,” she flushed. “I…I have no idea what to expect and I find myself uneasy and a bit frightened at what may happen.”
“I understand your concerns, Ensign,” her fellow crewman said calmly. “When Vulcan children first begin training in their telepathic abilities, it is not uncommon for lapses in control to occur. They are not punished so long as the student learns from them. You have nothing to fear,” he added, venturing so far as to move close enough to her that he could place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Anything I learn by accident I will reveal to you immediately and will hold in the strictest of confidence.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Vorik gave her a small smile and stepped back. “I believe that the last lab on this corridor will be the best place for our practice sessions. Hardly anyone comes down here.”
“Then let us go there and begin,” he said, stepping to the side and gesturing for her to lead the way.