A Long Way for Help

[Erich Jaenke 0]

A Long Way for Help

- A T'Prise and Jaenke Joint Log

 

 

The historic “Mall of America,” a centuries old center of commerce, was a poor choice of location for a Betazoid incapable of filtering emotions. Now a hub for interstellar peddler of wares from around the quadrant, The crowds filling the shopping center were staggering. So many minds, so many emotions and feelings, that Erich Jaenke could not block. His senses realed.

 

“That merchant made me so angry...”

 

“I’m walkin on sunshine...oh oh...”

 

“Why was that man so mean to me?”

 

Too many voices in his head. Too much. Like a photon torpedo he exited the mall and launched himself into a nearby transport. Anywhere but here. After taking on other passengers the transport lurched forward, taking the Betazoid away from the mob of emotion. He focused on himself as best he could, trying not to weep from the mental assault.

 

The transport hovered to parts unknown. The voices in his head subsided, but his own nagging voice emerged. What do I do now? Who do I turn to in order to function? The Manticore doctors?

 

“No!” Erich shouted into the cabin.

 

A few people turned to see if a mad man traveled among them. He could feel their questions. “Sorry,” he murmured.

 

Pulling out his PADD, he checked the transport's course heading wondering if anything would look inviting. The land known as Minnesota seemed littered with quite a number of quiet places, but he would not be able to hide there forever.

 

Who was the question. Who else does he know that may have worked past this type of problem? Another fellow telepath. As far as he knew there were no other Betazoids on the Manticore. He pulled up the roster on his PADD. Many names. Numerous choices. One name looked familiar: T’Prise.

 

She seemed a normal enough Vulcan for the few times he worked with her. She could keep a secret and not run back to the doctors. He linked his subdermal comm to his PADD. “Computer, establish a link to Commander T’Prise, low priority.” The PADD chirped. The transport started its high-speed run. The engineer drifted into sleep as the motion of travel took hold.

 

***

 

Moving at a pace that made distinguishing specific features dizzying to the naked eye, the accelerator spun around and around moving in perfect synchroneity to the hum of quantum matter engine which powers it. Perched smartly on her chair, posture perfect, and PADD poised for note taking, the Vulcan science officer watched the apparatus with an unblinking gaze. It continued to spin, gathering data with each pass.

 

Use of the quantum accelerator was very strictly governed and monitored; only her status as a lead researcher on certain projects allowed her access at such short notice. The purpose of this particular experiment was to prove certain theories, originating from discoveries made aboard the Manticore, in a controlled environment. Although months had passed since their multiple entries into parallel universes, it was quite apparent that the discoveries made in those realities heavily influenced certain members of the Manticore crew. Discovering a stable portal into alternate dimensions could very well play a crucial role in reestablishing the equanimity of those affected.

 

The slight chirp of her communicator caused the stoic physicist to blink and shift her attention away from the experiment.

 

“This is Commander T’Prise.”

 

Jaenke’s PADD beeped repeatedly. At first he thought the Manticore was on red alert. “What? Stations everyone, I... oh. Commander? Did I call you?” Her live image, tiny as it was, looked just like her Starfleet profile complete with lab coat and data PADD.

 

“It is rational to assume that you did, as the communication was initiated via your comm credentials,” T’Prise stated, arching a brow quizzically.

 

“What? Oh...oh yes. I know you don’t know me very well, but I need help with a personal matter, a telepathic matter. I know you’re not Betazoid, but perhaps you can relate.” He fixed his hair, as if it mattered.

 

“You infer from my ethnicity that I may be able to assist you with issues related to your mental capabilities and telepathic aptitude? It is a logical yet presumptuous speculation. To what do you surmise that I will be able to relate?”

 

Vulcans. “I can’t shut people’s emotions out. I hear all of them in my mind at once. I thought you might have some techniques that would help beyond what I can read. Anything you have to offer. But the grand scheme of the universe I matter not, so if you are doing something important than pretend this call never happened.”

 

“Are you suggesting that I dismiss your plea for assistance, or is this some type of an appeal to emotional sensibilities? Believing that I have the emotional capacity to empathize with you is an error. I wonder that you do not seek the care of a physician or psychiatrist, if the situation is as unseemly as you suggest. What is your motivation in contacting me and then attempting to dissuade me from assisting you? What do you wish to achieve?”

 

Vulcans. “I’d just rather not get the Manticore doctors involved. They are not telepaths.” He should not do these things over the comm. “Tell you what Commander. How about dinner, my treat?” Perhaps he could explain himself better in person.

 

“Your inability to coherently state your purpose for contacting me is perplexing, however you suggestion that we meet merits attention as your behavior suggest you require assistance. Where do you suggest that we partake of this meal?”

 

****

 

Where indeed? She informed him she was not on Earth yet, but at the Daystrom Institute facility on Mars. He told her to contact him when she arrived. This gave him hours to choose a suitable location. Even for him choices numbered in the thousands, but for a Vulcan the palatability of Earth cuisines narrowed that considerably. What did she like though? Holy rings, he hardly knew anything about her. All to get help for himself while bypassing proper medical attention. He now felt dirty about asking.

 

“I have been invited to dinner by the Manticore’s trash recycling man.”

 

Surely that’s what she must be thinking now, just too polite to decline. Jaenke needed to get out of this negative thinking if anything she could suggest to help would work. “What have I done and what will I wear?” he said to himself. “I look like a peasant.” Erich had a few credits floating around in his account. Time for shopping.