Oh, Abyss!“Troi?” Aili gasped. “You mean—she saw him leaving…she knows about…oh, no.” She was almost tempted to rip her suit open right here and drown herself in the air.

“Say, what’s the problem? No reason she’d be jealous. It’s not like Ravvy was frinxingher too—though not for want of trying, I can tell you.”

“Look, just—please, don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Aili moved on and hastened to her quarters. Now more than ever, she needed to be alone.

“Just to be clear,” Deanna explained in the next morning’s briefing, “the gestalt is not like a mind-meld. The ship’s telepaths and empaths will be linked together, but only to share psionic sensitivity and power, not thoughts or knowledge. We will be… awareof each other’s presence, affected by each other’s responses and needs, but on a visceral level, not a cognitive one.” Riker was glad to hear that. He didn’t want every telepath on the ship to share in Deanna’s memories of last night, or any given night.

“It will be necessary for Dr. Ree to neutralize the telepathic suppressants he administered before,” Deanna added. “We may need every psi-sensitive mind the ship has. The larger the gestalt, the better.”

Tuvok seemed uneasy. “What you propose will be difficult for…the Vulcans on board. Once we make contact, the influx of intense emotion will prove difficult to endure.” Riker didn’t need to be a telepath to know Tuvok was concerned on a personal level, not just a tactical one. Most Vulcans weren’t nearly as good at hiding their feelings as they liked to think—a discrepancy which had served Riker well in many a poker game.

“Your role in the gestalt,” Deanna explained, “and that of the others, will be mostly passive. You’ll essentially serve as psionic amplifiers for Cadet Orilly and myself, allowing us to broadcast more strongly. Hopefully once we have the star-jellies’ attention and can open communications, the gestalt won’t be necessary any longer—they’ll be able to read my thoughts and send theirs back to me.”

“Hopefully,” Tuvok repeated.

“Even if not, Orilly and I will bear the brunt of their communication. That may shield the rest of you from the full effects.”

“But again you cannot say so with certainty.”

“Mr. Tuvok,” Riker asked with a touch of steel, “will you be able to perform this duty or not?”

The Vulcan met his gaze evenly, though he was very closed off. “Yes, sir, I will.”

“Good. Counselor, proceed.”

Deanna chose to assemble the group in stellar cartography, adrift in free fall, in order to help them find the right state of mind to communicate with beings who lived most of their lives that way. She knew it was an uncomfortable environment for Orilly, but it was important for the Irriol to accept it, to open herself to it, if this was to work. The cadet understood that and was making a brave effort, though her legs and trunks were still flailing some and she kept putting herself into a slight spin. Fortunately, Lieutenant Chamish was nearby and used his low-level telekinesis to halt it. The simian-featured Kazarite was an ecologist, his telepathy limited to communion with animals, since higher cognitive functions interfered with it somehow. Deanna was hoping that wouldn’t reduce his usefulness here, since he was serving mainly as a conduit. Then again, the jellies’ emotions had affected him before, even though they were sentient beings. That anomaly might be worth exploring later on, but for now it was simply convenient. At least he was comfortable with floating; the Kazarites could use their TK abilities to levitate for short distances, a useful skill in their mountainous home-land.

The others here were all Vulcan—Tuvok, T’Pel, Savalek—except for Ree. He was here mainly to monitor the others’ health, but Deanna was hoping that, although he lacked the active empathy of some Pahkwa-thanh, he might have some latent sensitivity that could contribute to the gestalt.

Deanna realized that she hadn’t yet had much chance to get acquainted with Tuvok’s wife T’Pel, even though she’d been aboard for weeks now. She was a civilian with no scientific credentials, and thus had no formal shipboard duties requiring interaction with others. She had kept largely to herself so far, and Tuvok had shown no interest in discussing his personal life with his crewmates. When T’Pel had arrived in cartography, Deanna had apologized for imposing on her. T’Pel had simply stated that Tuvok had briefed her on what was expected and she was ready to serve. Deanna sensed a tentativeness in both her and Tuvok, and perhaps between them as well, but maybe it was just their unease at the situation.

Ree handled himself unexpectedly well in free fall, using his heavy tail to maneuver about his center of mass gracefully, almost like a cat. He scanned each person present with his medical tricorder, and bringing himself to a halt facing Deanna, reported, “The psi-suppressant has been fully purged from all your systems. All your psi indices read nominal. Sadly, mine is also at its normal, immeasurably small level.”

“Then we’re ready,” Deanna said, and turned her head to Orilly. Reaching out to take the cadet’s trunk-hand, she caught her gaze and said, “It’s time, Malar.”

Ree tilted his head at them. “Should we all join hands?”

Orilly looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Oh. Never mind, then.”

“Just try to relax and clear your mind,” Deanna told him. “Like meditation.”

Ree sighed. “I knew I should have eaten first. Anyone willing to volunteer a limb?”

Orilly winced. “Please, Doctor,” Deanna said. “Not all of us find your sense of humor relaxing.”

“Sorry.”

After that, things grew quiet. With a little physical and empathic handholding from Deanna, Orilly was able to calm herself and begin reaching out with her mind. At first, there seemed to be no effect. But gradually Deanna recognized a change in her awareness. There were no other thoughts impinging on her mind, no subsuming of her identity; but she seemed to feel her own mind expandingin scope and perspective. It was like she was opening up, freeing herself from constraints she hadn’t even been aware of, as though the full range of her senses before had only been tunnel vision. The rest of the universe seemed closerthan it had before, clearer to discern.

She reached out her senses, listening for familiar voices, sending out a probe: We are here. Speak to us.It seemed to echo now, her mental voice/presence; it was stronger, more resonant than before. She knew it would carry farther.

And indeed, before long there was a return echo, a faint impression on the edge of awareness: acknowledgment, curiosity. We are also here; where are you?Or so it would be if it were in words, rather than emotions and impressions.

Here.Deanna opened her eyes, taking in stellar cartography’s display of the heavens around the ship. Six others were with her, but she saw only the cosmos. Stars— founts of lifewarmth—watering holes. Dust clouds— ticklish softness, nourishment—grazing fields. Emission nebulae— invigorating, soothing—cool breeze. Stellar nurseries— turbulent lifewarmth [too much/careful you don’t get burned/whee, let’s do it again!]—swimming the rapids.

Yet there was more than she could see, and now she saw it. Fields of energy: gamma, radio, tetryon, psi [how’s the weather?/let’s ask it!].Contours of [starpull]gravity, hills and vales in spacetime. All of it a veneer atop the fathomless depths of subspace [we dive, but not too deep!/mustn’t lose our way].

They saw what she saw, and she felt attention focus upon her, engulfing her—gentle curiosity, but that of a child’s hand cupping a ladybug, not threatening but still overpowering. We greet you, but you are not-us [wary/ caution/curious]. How do you know us?