White Noise Between Minds (Sometimes the Counselor needs Counseling PT 3)
Posted on Sat Jun 13, 2026 @ 9:24pm by Lieutenant Commander Thaeva sh'Valankov M.D., N.T.M. & Lieutenant JG Minh Nao Psy.D., BSc, SFPC(Xeno-Psych), Psi-Track
1,032 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
S03E01 - Something about Tribbles
Location: Langley Hospital
Timeline: MD 04 17:00
Minh almost didn’t knock.
Her hand hovered near the panel outside the office, fingers trembling just enough that she tucked them into her sleeve to hide it—from no one, really. Old habit. Composure first. Questions later. Inside, she could feel something. Not thoughts—not in the way she usually perceived them. Not the soft brush of surface emotion or the quiet hum of passing minds. This was… different.
Still.
Like a frozen lake beneath snow, Aenar. Minh exhaled slowly and pressed the panel.
“Enter,” came the voice from within—calm, even, and precise. The doors parted with a soft hiss.
Doctor Thaeva sh’Valankov stood near a console, pale and composed, her sightless gaze angled toward Minh with uncanny accuracy. The faint blue undertones of her skin caught the light, her antennae held in a subtle, attentive arc.
Thaeva already knew Minh was there.
Minh stepped in, trying—and failing—not to feel immediately seen.
“Doctor sh’Valankov,” Minh began, her voice steadier than she felt. “You asked to see me.”
“I did,” Thaeva replied, turning fully toward her. “And you came… despite your hesitation.”
Minh blinked, like a deer caught in the headlights, “I didn’t say I was—”
“You did not need to.” Thaeva was quick to respond.
A pause.
Minh shifted her weight slightly, unsettled, “Right. Telepath,” she muttered. “Of course.”
Thaeva inclined her head a fraction. “Among other things.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment—not uncomfortable, but dense. Measured.
Minh swallowed, hard, “I think something’s wrong with me.” The words came out quicker than she intended, sharper. Honest.
Thaeva did not react immediately. Instead, she gestured lightly toward a chair. “Sit,” she said. “And tell me what you are experiencing. Precisely.”
Minh hesitated—then sat. “It started small,” she began, hands clasping together in her lap. “At least I think it did. Peripheral things. Movement that wasn’t there. I wrote it off as stress. Fatigue. Station adjustment. But now… I’m seeing things. Clearly. Consistently.”
Thaeva’s antennae shifted slightly forward. “Define things.”
Minh hesitated. “…A kitten.”
The word sounded ridiculous the moment it left her mouth. “A kitten,” Thaeva repeated evenly.
“Yes. I know how that sounds.” Minh sounding defeated, hesitantly replied.
“It sounds specific.” Thae void of emotion nodded.
Minh exhaled sharply through her nose. “It moves. It reacts to me. It… leads me places.”
A flicker of something crossed Thaeva’s otherwise composed expression—not disbelief, not concern, but recognition.
“Does it appear randomly?” Thaeva asked.
“No,” Minh said immediately. “That’s the problem. “It shows up when I’m alone. Or when things are quiet. And it doesn’t just exist—it… waits. Watches. Like it’s aware of me before I even see it. Not just visually either.”
Thaeva stilled. “Explain.”
Minh swallowed gulped down the air like it was leaving the airlock, “I can feel it.”
That landed for Minh, not dramatically but deeply. Shaking her head she continued, “It doesn’t have thoughts, not like a person. Not like you. But there’s… presence. Weight. Like it’s occupying space in the same way a mind does, just—” she struggled for the word, “—simpler. Focused. That’s not possible, right? That’s—hallucinations don’t push back. They don’t respond.”
“No,” Thaeva said quietly. “They do not.”
Silence fell again.
Thaeva moved then, stepping closer—not invasive, but deliberate. Studying.
“Your abilities,” she said, “have you noticed changes?”
Minh let out a humorless laugh.
“That’s actually why I didn’t come to medical first. Than I did, talked to Dr. Washington.”
Thaeva’s antennae angled slightly. “Go on.”
Minh looked down at her hands.
“I can’t… filter anymore.” Minh's voice softened. “It’s like everything’s louder. Not thoughts exactly—more like… impressions. Emotional bleed. Background noise I used to be able to ignore. Now it’s all there. All the time.”
Minh flexed her fingers slightly. “Sometimes it spikes. Sharp. Sudden. Like something’s breaking through instead of me reaching out.”
Thaeva considered this, and paused for a moment. Than blurted out, “Loss of control. Increased sensitivity. Externalization of perception.”
Minh looked up sharply, “That’s a polite way of saying I’m losing it.”
“No,” Thaeva replied calmly. “It is a precise way of saying your mind is adapting.”
Minh stared at her, “…Adapting?”
Thaeva nodded once, “Betazoid telepathy is not static. Under stress, trauma, or environmental interference, it can shift. Expand. Fracture. Reorganize. Sometimes… it manifests.”
Minh’s stomach dropped. “You’re saying I’m creating it?”
“I am saying,” Thaeva corrected gently, “that your mind may be attempting to interpret something it does not yet understand.”
A beat, Minh’s pulse quickened, “Something external?”
Thaeva did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached out—not physically, but mentally. Minh felt it. A presence. Cold, clear, precise—like stepping into still water, controlled, disciplined. Aenar telepathy.
Minh instinctively tensed—and then stilled as Thaeva’s voice came again, softer now. “Do not resist.”
Minh forced herself to breathe. “Easy for you to say.”
A faint hint of something—almost amusement—touched Thaeva’s expression.
Then—Contact.
Not invasive or forceful, but deep something that Minh hadn't felt. Thaeva moved carefully through Minh’s surface thoughts, her emotional field, the edges of her perception and then paused.
Minh felt it, the moment of stillness something was found.
Thaeva’s antennae twitched sharply. “…There.”
Minh’s breath caught. “What? What is it?”
Thaeva did not immediately withdraw. Instead, her voice shifted—quieter. More intent. “You are not imagining it.”
The words landed like a shockwave. Minh’s heart slammed in her chest. “…What?”
Thaeva slowly pulled back, her expression more serious now than it had been since Minh entered. “The presence you describe,” she said, “is real.”
Minh stared at her. “That’s not possible.”
“No,” Thaeva agreed. “It is not.”
The room fell silent, Minh trying to grasp what was happening, Thaeva, going deeper... “Which is precisely why we need to understand it.”
Minh swallowed hard, fear and something sharper coiling together in her chest. “Understand what?”
Thaeva met her gaze—unseeing, and yet impossibly direct. “Why it is choosing you.”
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