However, she knew from his record that he had a good deal of experience with melding. That experience, combined with the natural psionic receptiveness of her own mind, meant that the meld came easily. At first it was just a level of communication which was second nature to her, a sharing of awareness and thought, but it quickly gave way to something deeper, a blurring of the boundaries between self and other. Part of her recoiled at the intrusion, but at the same time it did not feel like an intrusion, because the new thoughts and memories were hers.

But some of the memories, the perceptions—and yes, the emotions, for no Vulcan could hide them here—were distressing to experience at first hand. The distinctive flavor of a Reman mind, impinging on hers— Vkruk!No, she (Tuvok?) reminded herself— Mekrikuk.The Reman prisoner who had saved Tuvok’s life, befriended him, shared minds with him to aid his recovery and escape. It was a memory of a friend—nothing to fear.

Still, there was agony, rage and violence associated with the memory—the agony of weeks of torture, the rage at his captors, the violence of his escape. And now came another memory of violent anger—Melora Pazlar falling beneath him, her flimsy bones snapping, her grating voice silenced by pain until he bent it to his will. Deanna recoiled at the memory of the terror and helplessness in Pazlar’s eyes, of Tuvok’s satisfaction in it. But then she knew the shame and regret which Tuvok felt at the incident, at giving in to such impulses. The ordeal of the prison must have been horrendous indeed to leave him with such urges, such scars. As much as the ordeals that had shaped Shinzon, she reminded herself, or Vkruk—both of them raised as slaves, brutalized for decades, twisted by hate into monsters. It didn’t excuse what they had done. So how could she forgive Tuvok, whatever the excuse?

Yet how could she not? He was as much a victim as she had been. This was how it was: cruelty was a virus, perpetuating itself, making its victims into carriers. Forgiveness was the only inoculation. The only way to break the cycle was to refuse to react to violence with more violence, hate with more hate. Someone had to let go.

She focused on that thought. That was the goal here: to end a cycle of killing, to make peace between mortal foes. That was their purpose, and they needed to concentrate on that. The thought, she realized, came as much from Tuvok as herself. She felt his rigid sense of discipline and purpose anchoring them. It gave her the courage to let go, to set her own mental discipline loose, let it be drawn in to merge with his. She felt naked, stripped of her psychological armor. But she felt him don it, felt that sense of discipline and purpose intensified by its strength, and that made her feel safe.

We are ready,he thought to her. As the one laid open, it was her place to reach out and make contact, to be the conduit. A renewed thrill of fear went through her, but there he was with her, anchoring her. And somewhere in the background was Will’s presence too, grounding her further. Thus braced, she made the leap. We are here,she sent. We wish to commune with you. There are urgent matters to discuss.

Curiosity poured over her, then recognition, happiness. Too much, too fast, but she could not stop it. Friends! Friends who [helped/rescued/freed] us! Great [joy/gratitude] once again!A torrent of sensation and emotion inundated her as the jellies updated her on recent events. Many dead had been liberated from desecration, and finally returned to their breeding grounds. Many new lives had been conceived with the energies they left behind. They shared every one with her, an orgy of orgies. It was too much, it was unbearable, it was miraculous.

They sensed her distress at her lack of control, her inability to stem the flood of feeling. They pulled back, but it was with puzzlement and regret. To them, this kind of total openness, this absence of boundaries, was natural. This sharing was an act of giving, not domination. The thought of being without it was a desolate one, a thing to be feared, not craved. Deanna seized on that perspective, let it give her reassurance. She could not resist the influx, but she could trust it, embrace it. And she knew they would not harm her. Sensing that assurance, they resumed the sharing of their joy, but more gently, with care for her fragility.

Yes,came Tuvok’s calming voice. Your liberation is gratifying. Yet it comes at a cost. We need your help to remedy it.Curiosity and puzzlement came in response. Tuvok efficiently, methodically spelled out the situation.

Deanna was immersed in anxiety, terror and grief as the jellies witnessed the devastation wrought by the other cosmozoans, and shared their own experience of encounters with such beasts. They offered their commiseration at the loss of life, the grief of the survivors.

Your sympathy is appreciated. But there is more you can offer. You can help us combat the threat.

How [confusion/alarm]? We are not hunters.Fighting, they projected, was something you did when left with no choice; otherwise, you fled.

Tuvok explained the rest of the proposal. It met with alarm, distaste and no small degree of amusement. Join with those who prey on us? Anathema/suicide!

You need not fear. They can no longer hurt you. We gave you that. So it will cost you nothing to meet with them and hear their side. Their survival is at stake too. As is that of many other species.

Sad. But not our [concern/purview/capability] to stop.

Is it not? These creatures endanger your breeding worlds too.

We will defend them [determination/pride]. We always have.

If their populations are not kept in check, there may eventually be too many for you to defend against.

Then we will take our young and flee. There are other galaxies.

None within reach are as lush as this one,Tuvok countered. Deanna sensed him making an educated guess that Andromeda and Triangulum, the only other large spiral galaxies in the Local Group, were too far for them to reach. And the small elliptical galaxies making up most of the Local Group had few or none of the star-formation zones where cosmozoans could thrive. The jellies’ options would be limited to the two Magellanic Clouds, which would be smaller, sparser environments for cosmozoans to inhabit.

But Deanna recognized that the jellies remained unconvinced. He was trying to reason with them, and they were creatures of passion. She knew that passion as her own; surely if anyone could know what would convince them, she could. She had felt their sorrow at the Shalra’s plight, so she fed it to them anew—all her sensations, her experiences, all the empathic impressions of grief and desolation she’d gotten from the refugees. It was hard enough having no control over the emotions that came into her from without. Yet now she had to do something harder, to relinquish her control over the grief and pain within her, the full emotional impact of a tragedy too enormous to bear. She wrenched open the floodgates, let it all pour out of her, made herself confront it and not look away. The torrent could flow both ways. She poured her grief into them, made them feel it as their own.

Then she fed them her empathic sensations of the Pa’haquel’s grief and horror at seeing so many of their fellows beamed into vacuum by the jellies. They had to learn to see the Pa’haquel as more than a threat. Making them feel some sense of obligation toward the hunters could help.

On top of it all, she fed them her own guilt, her complicity in bringing about this destruction. She reached for Tuvok’s as well, but he resisted. We must,she told him. It’s the only way. Face your guilt. Use it. Make it a strength.He acquiesced, let her feed it all to them.