Slowly, Soleta sank into a chair, not taking her eyes off Selar, "You want me to mind-meld with you."
Selar paced the room, speaking in a clinically detached manner that made her feel far more comfortable than acknowledging the emotional turmoil she was straining to keep at bay. "I believe that I may be suffering the earliest stages of Bendii Syndrome, causing the disintegration of my self-control."
"If that is what you believe, then certainly there must be medical tests..."
But Selar shook her head. "Bendii Syndrome, at this point, would not be detectable through standard medical technologies. There are physical symptoms, yes, changes in certain waves patterns. But these are ascribable to a variety of possible ailments. It could also be Hibbs Disease, or Telemioistis... it could even be although that is an impossibility."
"Impossible . . . why? Timing is wrong?"
Selar suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "Yes."
"When was the last—?"
"It cannot be, believe me," Selar told her in no uncertain terms. Clearly considering the subject closed, she continued briskly, "In this situation, diagnosis via mind-meld would be the accepted and appropriate procedure to follow on Vulcan. There are doctors, psi-meds, who specialize in the technique."
"But we're not on Vulcan, and I'm not a doctor," Soleta reminded her. "This is not a situation with which I am comfortable."
"I fully understand that. However, it would not be required that you have any medical training. During the mind-meld, I will be able to use your 'outside' perspective as if it were a diagnostic tool. Were I not a doctor myself, and were I not thoroughly trained in such procedures, it would be impossible. As it stands, it is more cumbersome and inefficient than simply to have a psi-med conduct the process. But I am willing to make do."
A long moment went by, during which Soleta said nothing. Selar was no fool; Soleta's hesitation was evident. But she was not about to back off. "You have granted me Succor," she reminded her, as if the reminder were necessary. "You cannot refuse."
"True. However," and Soleta stood, squaring her shoulders. She seemed even more uncomfortable now than Selar had moments before, and she did not have the self-discipline or control to cover it as skillfully as Dr. Selar."... however, I am within my rights to request that you release me from my promise. I do so now."
"I will not."
"You would force me to mind-meld with you?" Soleta made absolutely no effort to hide her surprise. "That is contrary to..." She couldn't even begin to articulate it. Mind-meld was a personal, private matter. To force someone to perform it upon you, or thrust your own mind into another ... it was virtually unthinkable.
"Lieutenant, I understand your hesitation," Selar began.
"No, I do not think you do."
"We barely know one another, and you feel pressured," Selar began. "Such a mind-meld will require you to probe more deeply than one normally would. The sort of meld that is either performed between intimates, or by extremely well trained psi-meds who are capable of such private intrusions while still shielding the—"
But Soleta waved her off impatiently. "It's not about that. Not about that at all."
At this, Selar was bit surprised. "Well, then. . . perhaps you wish to explain it to me."
"I do not. Now release me from my promise." "
No."
The two women stared at each other, each unyielding in their resolve. It was Soleta who broke first. She looked away from Selar, and in a voice so soft that even Selar almost missed it, she murmured, "It is for your own good."
"My own good? Lieutenant, I need your help. That is where my 'own good' lies."
"You do not want my help."
"I believe I know what I want and—"
"You do not want my help!"
The outburst was so unexpected, so uncharacteristic, so un-Vulcan, that—had Selar been human— she would have gaped in undisguised astonishment. As it was she could barely contain her incredulity. Soleta looked as if someone had ripped out a piece of her soul. She was fighting to regain her composure and was only partly successful. Selar, in all her years, had never encountered a Vulcan whose emotionality was so close to the surface. All she knew was that she was beginning to feel less like a supplicant and more like a tormentor.
"I release you," she said slowly.
Soleta let out an unsteady sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said.
Clearly, now, she wanted to leave. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Selar as she possibly could. But the reasons for her outburst, and Selar's open curiosity, were impossible to ignore. She could not pretend that it had not happened, and—despite the size of the it was, in the grand scheme of things, a small place to live when there was someone whose presence was going to make you uncomfortable. Particularly when it was someone such as the ship's CMO; not exactly the type of person one could hope never to have any interaction with.
Soleta leaned against the wall, her palms flat against it, as if requiring the support of it. She weighed all the possibilities, and came to what she realized was the only logical decision. Still, she had to protect herself. "If I tell you something relating to my medical history . . . will you treat it under the realm of doctor/patient confidentiality."
"Does it pose a threat to the health or safety of the crew of the Excalibur?"
The edges of Soleta's mouth, ever so slightly, turned upward. "No. No, not at all."
"Very well."
She took a deep breath. "I am ... impure," she said. "You would not want me in your mind."
"How do you mean 'impure'? I do not understand."
"I am not. . . full Vulcan."
Selar blinked, the only outward indication of her surprise. "Your records do not indicate that." She paused, considered the information. "It is an unexpected revelation, but it is hardly cataclysmic. Your attitude, your demeanor, indicates you consider your background to be ... shameful in some manner. Some of the greatest Vulcans in history do not have 'pure' parentage."
"I am aware of that. I am personally acquainted with Ambassador Spock."
"Personally." Selar was impressed, and made no effort to keep it out of her voice, "May I inquire as to the circumstances?"
"We were in prison together."
Selar found this curious, to say the least, but she decided that it was probably preferable not to investigate the background of that statement. Clearly there were greater problems to be dealt with. Selar was all too aware that bedside manner was not her strong suit. And her experiences since the death of her mate, Voltak, had done nothing to soften her disposition. She knew that she had become even more distant and remote than her training would require, but she had not cared overmuch. Truthfully, since Voltak had died those two long years ago, she had not cared about anything. Nonetheless it was clear that Selar had to put aside her own concerns and deal with those of Soleta.
She placed a hand on Soleta's shoulder. Soleta looked at it as if it were an alien artifact. "Neck pinch?" she asked.
"I am endeavoring to be of comfort," Selar said formally.
"Nice try." The words had a tint of humor to them, but Soleta did not say them in an amused manner.
Slowly Selar removed her hand from Soleta's shoulder. Then she straightened her uniform jacket and said, "I do not recall your service record indicating any mixed breeding. Although I will respect the bond of doctor/patient confidentiality, falsifying your record is frowned upon. In some instances, it could even result in court-martial in the unlikely event your parentage included a hostile race such as . . ."