Posted by Lieutenant Sharah Fayth (Chief Star Fleet Medical Officer) in Sloane Square- Saturday Farmer’s Market

Posted by Captain Eela Dasca (Lt. Governor) in Sloane Square- Saturday Farmer’s Market

(snip)

With a gestures of her head, Dasca moved away a little farther from anyone that might overhear. “What’s on your mind?” she said simply, unsure which topic the conversation could shift to and most definitely curious.

~Eela Dasca, Lt. Gov.

There was a bench where they had moved to and Sharah sat, an unconscious gesture, born of her empathy that never shut off, to allow Eela to rest. It was hard to put what was bothering Sharah into words and she hoped, being empathic as well, it would be easier to explain. We both attended the gallery opening the other night. The next day…I received one of the paintings. At first I was concerned because being the CMO and temporary head of the hospital…such gifts and favors are risky and could cause problems. But I don’t know either artist nor the curator or how they might be attached to anything at the hospital.”

Eela would sense Sharah’s difficulty in voicing what she was feeling in a clear manner. “You know that I am both telepathic and empathic being Betazoid. What you may not be aware of is that I am, what we call, a super sensitive. There is not one person on Oed or the ships or the orbital platforms that I can’t hear or feel. Or at least…sense.”

“It is very rare that I should be surprised by something. When someone’s attention focuses, even briefly, on me I am aware of it. It’s like being hit in the head by a heavy pillow or a rock. There was no such…warning.” That wasn’t really the right word. It also sounded so elitest to Sharah’s ears that someone could act or think without her knowing. That’s not what she meant at all. Anyone trained could be nothing more than a hint of a presence to her. In fact people with such training were welcome. Sharah was self aware and intelligent enough to know that her uneasiness was a matter of self trust. After the last mission of the Viking she felt…she couldn’t trust herself. Even though she had been right to do so. It wasn’t a matter of maintaining the reputation of Star Fleet on the colony. Making sure no one thought the were anything but upstanding. “I supposed I’m not making a lot of sense.”

Fayth, SFCMO

Eela gave her new friend her undivided attention, both listening to and feeling what Sharah was expressing. “You make perfect sense… to another telepath,” she said with a soft smile. “I get it, I do. Our abilities inform so much of experience as people. Even when we shield things out, that simple act, regardless of how much or little you are able to filter, changes how we interact with the world around us. One who cannot sense the emotions of others or hear their thoughts does not know how much of our own selves are tied to this perception. Without it we would be an entirely different person. With it we navigate our own understanding of the universe and the way others see us. But to live with our abilities is to have a finely honed instinct. We can choose to follow it or ignore, but the information we use to make that decision can still be fallible because we are fallible people. And sometimes people use that fact against us. It’s a delicate balance.”

She smiled. “I will admit that the thing I’ve never been in my is paranoid. But I find myself operating with a level of mild paranoia. I second guess myself in a way I never have before. You’re not wrong to be on edge about the painting. That I get too.” She leaned in a bit more dropping her voice a fraction more. “Mine was delivered only for me to find out that mine was gifted as well. No one else knows,” she said with seriousness. “And I debated whether I could accept it but the fact is that it was anonymous and I had done nothing more wrong than be moved deeply by something that someone else created that symbolizing something very significant to me. I wrote a short letter of thanks to the artist and they included a small reply back to me. I will treasure that letter, that exchange because it’s a part of me healing.”

Eela turned her gaze outward, taking in the market, actually grateful for the moment of rest. “That painting was meant for me, Sharah. I can’t explain how or why I know that except…” She braced herself, taking a breath. “The image is very close to my very last memory in uniform. It’s the afterimage of the explosion left on my vision before I went unconscious. And so even if I wanted to give back the painting, it’s already affected me.”

She turned her hazel eyes back on Sharah. “Keep the painting and enjoy it. I don’t think you missed something anymore than I do. Maybe someone was just that much better than us, or any number of reasons. But if there is anything I have been forced to learn in the last few years is that we have very little true control over anything and something, despite all our other inclinations, we just have to go with it. Let things fall where they may and when it’s time, the truth will reveal itself.”

~Eela Dasca, Lt. Gov.