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Sarda waited an extra day before finally getting something to help hold his splitting head together.
He had gone to the med center yesterday. But Dr. AndrusTaurus—Merete, as she had offered, but not requested, for his use—had not been on duty. He had debated asking another physician, but...instead he had skipped the rest of his classes, something he had never before done, and spent the rest of the day in his bunk trying not to die.
His roommate Judd bothered him to go back, so Sarda fudged the truth and said he had not been able to get an appointment until tomorrow.
It was technically true, even if it left out the part where the appointment he couldn’t get was with the only physician he trusted enough to speak to.
Merete was not the Vulcan healer he needed...but, if nothing else, he knew she would not attempt to touch him, and the thought of being touched while his shields were so battered was more unbearable than the pain of the broken bond.
He arrived even before she did, and sat in the waiting room with his eyes closed. He was fairly certain that it was even worse than the first day, when the bond had snapped and recoiled into his thoughts.
“Sarda?”
He swayed a little, but managed to avoid the nurse’s helping hand.
The room was a little better, but he still kept his eyes shut until the doctor arrived.
“Sarda, how are you—”
She paused when she actually saw him. It was shameful that his weakness was so apparent, but...he was desperate.
Merete was already scanning him.
“What seems to be the matter?” she said with a professional neutrality that he deeply appreciated. “You’re clearly in pain, but I’m not seeing a specific cause.”
Sarda tried to order his thoughts enough to provide the relevant information.
“Not physical,” he said. “Mental.”
She frowned. “Psychiatric?”
“Telepathic.”
Merete pulled up the computer backup system she had to rely on for his physiology.
“Well, let’s see if we can get you some immediate relief to start with. Is there anything you can tell me while I find out what will help?”
“My childhood bond was broken.”
Merete frowned. “I don’t think I have enough context to understand.”
Sarda took another breath and struggled to find the simplest explanation.
“An...arranged marriage, you might call it. A telepathic link. It was broken, and I did not have a healer to manage the recoil.”
Merete nodded with about half her attention.
“Analgesics seem unhelpful here, but it looks like a mild telepathic blocker might help.”
She looked up at him. “This is beyond my expertise. I don’t KNOW if it will help, but it’s a possibility. Would you like to try it while I figure out what will help more?”
Sarda probably would have tried drilling the demons out of his skull if there was a chance it might help.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes again, but he heard her move to obtain it and return to him.
“Ready?”
“Please.”
The drug hissed into his system. Within a few moments, he felt a kind of blunting effect on his mind—not a pleasant sensation, but since it took some of the pain with it, he didn’t remotely care.
He opened his eyes. Merete was already back at the computer, but with half her attention on him. “Is it helping?”
“Some.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’m not seeing a lot about Vulcan bonds, so you’ll have to fill in the blanks if you want me to understand. So far, I’m seeing a little about the unexpected breaking of a marriage bond being potentially deadly—which doesn’t seem to be the case here.”
Sarda shook his head and then regretted it. “Not a marriage bond. A betrothal bond.”
Merete added the search term. “Nothing there. Is there another word for it?”
Sarda sighed. “It may well simply not be there to find.” He closed his eyes just long enough to take a long breath. “Matches are arranged between children. A mental link is established, but it does not become a marriage bond until adulthood.”
Merete was frowning a little, but said nothing.
“The breaking of one is not dangerous, but it is...unpleasant.”
“You said that you didn’t have a healer with you. I assume they would be able to help?”
“There is no healer here.”
“Not here in the academy med center, no,” said Merete, pulling up something else. “But here on Earth, there are a few. I suspect the Vulcan embassy will have one.”
Sarda blinked. “That...did not occur to me.”
“You’re in pain. You came to where you knew you could find help. But right now I think the best help I can offer you is someone else’s.”
“That is...logical.”
“Entirely,” said Merete, still typing. “Give me a moment to contact them.”
Sarda closed his eyes again.
Something in him settled, just a little. He was still in pain, but knowing that he did not have to bear it without help somehow made it easier. Not lesser. But easier.
“Good news!” said Merete. “They do indeed have an available healer—and he is willing to beam to the med center.”
“Thank you.”
“It will be a short time before he is free, however. Perhaps half an hour.”
Sarda nodded, and then failed to completely suppress the pain on his face.
“I wish I could do more until then. Unfortunately, it looks like a higher dose of the blocker is a bad idea.”
Sarda hesitated...and apparently that showed too.
“Is there something else I can do?”
“Perhaps.”
“Oh? I’d like to know.”
“If you were a Vulcan doctor…” he said and then hesitated again. “Not a healer, but a Vulcan doctor, I would request...telepathic support.”
“Which is...different from what a healer can do?”
“Yes. A healer can repair the damage. Another Vulcan could offer physical contact to bolster shields and control.”
“If this is something I can offer, I would like to.”
Sarda was quiet for a moment. “It does involve emotional transference, which many non-telepaths find unsettling.”
Merete nodded. “Very well. I am still willing to try.”
It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing his mother would have approved of, but that shuttle had already left the docking bay.
“May I touch you?”
Merete nodded and held out a hand.
Sarda didn’t touch her fingers, but went past them and put his palm on her wrist. Not a strong connection, but he didn’t want a strong connection.
Her presence was steady, if strange. He leaned on it, gathering strength to shore up his shields and try to find some sure footing in a mind yanked sideways.
It must have affected even his time sense, because he was still leaning on her when the healer arrived, and Sarda abruptly realized that she had been patiently sitting with him for twenty-seven minutes.
Sarda withdrew his hand and sat up straighter.
“Greetings,” said the healer. “I am Selor.”
“Thank you for coming,” said Merete, moving to stand up. “Unless you have any need for me, I’ll leave you here.”
“One does not thank logic,” said Selor. “Your assistance is appreciated, but you are correct that it is no longer required.”
Merete nodded and left, and Sarda was almost sad to see her go.
“Your trust speaks to her character,” said Selor, taking Merete’s place.
Sarda nodded. “As it should.”