Jacob Chandler stood darkly against the faintly lit wall, chest heaving like some beast caged, ready to pounce. He was riled by his brisk run, and intrigued by his situation. Then, the effects of his empathic link with Captain Major Ty N'Desp were fading fast, and his heart began to slow its pace. He took deeper breaths to slow his breathing and concentrated on the calm beginning to creep into him. He brushed his thick hair away from his face, making sure at the same time, that he had properly belted his robe. A moment afterward, the lights went up and Ty N'Desp entered the room.

She had on a set of black pajamas; nothing special, just plain black pajamas, but her feet were bare. Besides her weary expression, she still seemed as if she were as ready as ever to run to the Bridge and take on some Romulan forces. "Thirsty?"

Chandler wasn't sure if it was an expression of need or an offer, but jumped toward the latter. "Perhaps some water," Chandler rumbled, feeling the Captain still in some distress, but concealing it nonetheless.

Ty, pulling two glasses newly formed in the replicator, handed one to Chandler, then took a sip form the other.

"So you know," Chandler said quietly, "why I've come."

She nodded, and gestured toward a seat for her Security Chief. "Have one, Jacob," she told him. She took a sip from her water, held it in her mouth a moment, considered, and then swallowed. "I didn't alarm you too much did I," she asked him. "Sometimes nightmares can get a little nutty," she explained. "At least in my head," she added.

Chandler chuckled under his breath, sounding like he was calling forth a distant thunder, "I don't mean to accuse you of a lack of truth," he told her, "but that was much more than a dream," he said. "Something much more profound happened just then."

"More profound than my transporting?"

Chandler's eyes darted around the room, and Ty imagined that just beneath the fur, she could see him blush.

"That's a bit different," he admitted.

"How much did you feel," Ty asked him.

"There was a black market pharmaceutical called ecstas-"

"Not that time."

"Right," he realized, beginning again. "I felt . . . fear. Anxiety; a sense of helplessness; lack of control. Panic, almost. Never before have I associated these emotions with you."

She nodded, then took a sip of water. "A forced empathic link," he said. "Unconscious on my part, I promise you. I would never do that consciously, of course. I hope you can see that."

"I do," Chandler replied. He hesitated. "I also want you to realize that you were not entirely to blame. If you've read my records, you should know that no one could make any sort of empathic contact with me; in my sleep or waking, without my permission on some level. I felt you in need, and I channeled out some of the intensity of emotion," he reassured her.

"Did you see the dream, or just feel the emotions connected?"

Chandler stopped short. He had never considered the difference; never tried to see one, either. It had all happened so quickly, and he had reacted so swiftly that he hadn't even sifted through what it was that he had picked up. "I suppose just the emotions themselves," he confided. "In any case, if I did see your dream, I don't remember any of it."

Ty nodded again. "Well then," she decided, "everything is just fine now. I appreciate your concern and your reaction time, and I apologize for having broken your sleep, Commander." She stood, placed her glass in the replicator and watched it disappear before turned to head toward her bed.

Chandler stood, a bit perplexed, not ready for the conversation to be finished. "Maybe we should talk about it just a bit more, Captain. Maybe discuss the dream," he offered. Even if she were reluctant to discuss what had happened, an empathic link had been made for a reason, whether she realized it or not. He was not one to let things slip by.

"No," Ty said. "It's okay; I'll be fine."

She was not at all convincing, however, and Chandler could tell that the dream was still troubling her. "Let's see," he began, "how can I put it? Uh . . . the dream unsettled you to your bones, Captain. It made you feel like nothing was right and nothing would ever be again. You are not generally disturbed by nightmares; Bith who are not as strong as you seem. I suggest," he rumbled, "that we discuss it."

Ty opened her mouth to protest, then instead, conceded. She sat, spewing the dream forth like some trite story of nothing, like some Federation News Network blurb about another Pakled ship seeking things to make it go. "I dreamed I lost control of this ship . . . again," she told him. "It was a bit disjointed, as dreams sometimes are. Now, since I can't describe the explicit circumstances, all I can tell you is this: through some vague misunderstanding or error on my part, I exposed all of you to danger graver than any of you would ever wish your worst enemy to see, then found myself unable to rectify the situation and damned in the process. Good?"

Chandler paid no attention to Ty's change in attitude, and asked, calmly, "What sort of danger?"

"I don't know," she retorted. "I dunno; through some action - or inaction maybe, I lost control of it all." She shook her head wearily. "It was like someone had taken the ship and put it on my shoulders, then asked me to stand on the edge of a never-ending chasm. I dropped the ship in; I couldn't hold it." Her face scrunched for a moment, "I mean, not that that was the actual dream, of course; just what it felt like. . . the situation. You know."

"It's doubtless that the ship was a symbolic burden of your responsibilities to this ship and this crew," Chandler analyzed.

Ty chuckled. "Don't we have a Counselor."

Chandler allowed his teeth to bare themselves slightly, responding in his best Worf impression, "We do not."

"Just a stress runoff, I'm sure," Ty assured. "It probably happens a lot to people in command of Federation vessels."

"ever before to you?

"No," she admitted.

"I've read a lot of your files, Captain," Chandler told her, staring out to the stars. "I've seen how you react under stress. You've never reacted with any sort of panic; fear; anything like that."

"I'm only Bith," Ty reminded him.

"That line only works for humans, Captain," Chandler said with a wry smile toward her. "Just has a certain ring to it, you know? 'I'm only human.'. " They shared the laugh for a moment, then Chandler continued, "Besides; you're a Bith who's never been a panicker. It's not in your nature. That kind of reaction to danger is anomalous for you. You've never had dreams, as far as I can tell, which would trigger a forced empathic link, either. It's not something that happens often - especially not with me. I don't think you should pretend this one will just go away," Chandler said. He stopped short, sensing a - something, a flash of something; then something fled as fast as it had come, and was gone. He reached for it: "Have you ever had dreams of the future that came true," he asked slowly, in trepidation, taking in what might have been happening.

Ty grimaced visibly, "I can't hide a damn thing from you, can I Jacob?"

"Doesn't seem that way, does it," the Caitian chided. "I'm really not trying to intrude Captain, but my role aboard the ship insists that -"

Ty looked impatient; "I understand, Jacob. You are my Chief of Security. Now you've gotten me this far, you see that the possibility exists that there may be some danger to this vessel, so, I suppose wherein my private matters compromise the safety of the ship, real or perceived, you nor I should shy from them."

"So you have," Jacob realized.

"Three times," Ty admitted. "My precognition seems a bit too accurate for my taste; generally correct," she said.

"They came true," Jacob asked in rhetoric.

"Yes, they did. I dreamt once that a woman named Bujold had become one of my officers, the suddenly left three days later, walking off into the sunset. The shuttlecraft Bujold on Starbase 416 did the same. The second time, I imagined my crew all . . ."

"The P'Naii disaster," Jacob finished for her, taking away some of the brunt of reliving it herself, then waited for her to continue.

"The last one is . . a bit more personal, if you don't mind."

"The point is that you've dreamt of the future before."

"Happenstance."

"The first time involved someone under your command."

"And my own personal shuttlecraft."

"Oooh." Jacob thought a moment, then continued, "The second time was with several people under your command. The third time - was it similar?"

"Feel free to assume that," Ty allowed.

"Seems you have a basal empathic link with you feel in protection of," Chandler told the Captain. "Seems the welfare of your 'charges', as it were, are of [forgive me, guys -ty] paramount importance."

"What are you saying," Ty asked, beginning to feel a bit eerie.

"That we may all need you to try to remember something about your dream tonight," Chandler warned huskily.

"Fire," Ty said.

"Beg pardon?"

"It was almost like -- when I awoke, I thought I was on fire," Ty said.

"On-"

"But it eludes me," Ty expressed.

"If that happens again . . ." Chandler prompted.

"I'll come to you in a dream."

Jacob Vincent Chandler looked confused for a moment, then stood, excited, began pacing the room like a caged [guess]. "Come to me in . . . and then . . . part my hair . . . come to . . . come to me in my dreams so I can . . ."

"What is it," Ty declared, watching him.

Jacob was caught by her reaction, looking embarrassed again. "Something from - something; I'm not sure," he topld the Captain. "Maybe a sewer-song; you made it pop into my head for some reason."

"I'll call you," said Ty. "Now we had better both get some rest; we're scheduled for duty in just a couple of hours, and I think we've both been disturbed enough for tonight."

He nodded, hair flailing for a moment, then laying still, remaining wild from his brisk midnight run. "Good night, then," he asked.

"Good night, Jacob," she said. "Sleep tight."

Jacob Vincent Chandler walked back to his room, then fell hard into bed.

Sleep eluded him.