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Troi closed his eyes, counted to ten in Greek, and then said, “Of course.” In truth, they had both last seen Elias Vaughn at Kestra’s funeral, but Troi had long since given up trying to get Lwaxana to cease her attempts to eliminate all evidence of Kestra’s existence. She had erased all her journals from the day she learned she was pregnant with their first daughter until after the funeral, would not speak of her, nor acknowledge any event co
She’ll deal with it when she’s ready, and not a minute before.In the meantime, both Troi and their valet, Mr. Xelo, had kept a few mementoes of Kestra hidden from Lwaxana for when that day finally came.
And Dea
Lwaxana said, “You should ask Elias to come with you when you visit. It would be wonderful to see him again, and he could meet Dea
Not bothering to point out that he met Dea
“Of course I do,imzadi ,”she said with a mischievious grin. “I wouldn’t be much of a telepath if I didn’t.”
“Oh, right. Explain to me again how your telepathy works over subspace?”
“You can be such a killjoy, Ian Andrew Troi,”Lwaxana said with a smirk.
“So how much doI miss you?”
“As much as I miss you.”
For a moment, they simply locked eyes. Troi took in every line of her face, every facet of her beautiful smile and her lovely dark eyes.
Then, finally, he said, “I have to go. Be well, imzadi.I’ll see you soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
Reluctantly, Troi cut the co
“Bridge to Troi.”
Troi sighed. Can’t I just bask in the glow of my family for a few more minutes?But it was not to be. He knew what was involved when he took his oath after graduating the Academy. Despite everything, though, he couldn’t bring himself to resign his commission. He was happy in Starfleet—it was where he belonged. One of the advantages to being married to a telepath was that Lwaxana understood that implicitly—in fact, she probably understood it better than he did—and wouldn’t hear of him resigning, and settling for a job he wasn’t as content with in order to make his family happy. “When the time is right,” she had said once, “we’ll know it, and then we can be a family together. For now, it’s right that we be a family apart.”
Of course, explaining that to a seven-year-old girl is a bit harder.
Tapping his combadge in response to the call from the bridge, he said, “Go ahead.”
“Report to Transporter Room 2, sir. Commander Vaughn’s ready to beam on board.”
“Acknowledged.” Troi was grateful that Captain Haden had allowed him to perform this duty, which could just as easily have gone to the first officer, Commander Li, or the security chief.
Instead, it was the second officer of the U.S.S. Carthagewho entered the transporter room to greet Vaughn as he beamed on board.
Vaughn had changed a bit in seven years: more lines to his face, more gray in his hair. Most notably, he’d grown a beard, which matched the brown and gray colors of his hair.
On the other hand, the body language hadn’t changed at all. Troi had never known anyone who was quite as in control of himself as Elias Vaughn. Troi envied it in a lot of ways, though Troi had found that a lack of control had its appeal. He often wondered how someone as centered and as private as Vaughn would fare in a relationship with a telepath.
Smiling slightly at the sight of his escort, Vaughn said, “Ian. Good to see you again.”
“Same here. I like the beard.”
Vaughn smirked at that. “Thanks.”
Troi tapped his combadge. “Bridge, Commander Vaughn is on board.”
Haden himself replied. “Acknowledged, Mr. Troi. We’ll be getting underway to Raknal V immediately. Escort the commander to my ready room.”
“Yes, sir.” He looked at Vaughn and gri
“Be happy to.”
As they proceeded to the turbolift, Vaughn asked, “How are things at home?”
“Quite well. Dea
“It’s a possibility,” Vaughn said, which was a better answer than the “no” Troi had been expecting. “Let’s see how things go on Raknal V first.”
They entered the turbolift. “Fair enough,” Troi said to Vaughn, then added to the computer, “Bridge,” causing the lift to head upward.
Within moments, they arrived, and entered Haden’s lair. The captain’s wide eyes fell on Vaughn’s face, and he scowled. Troi tried to cover a smile. The last fifteen years had not been kind to Haden’s hairline, which had receded quite a bit, and he seemed to derive a certain irritation from the fact that Vaughn, who was older than Haden, not only still had a full head of hair, but had poured salt in the wound by growing a full beard.
“Welcome back, Commander.”
Vaughn nodded his head as he and Troi took their seats in the captain’s two guest chairs. “Thank you, Captain.”
“It’s almost like a reunion. Pity we can’t divert Enterprisehere, we’d have the whole Betreka gang back again.”
Troi smiled. Commander—or, rather, CaptainGarrett had been given command of the U.S.S. Enterprisefour years after the Betreka Nebula incident, and had spent the last decade-plus doing everything she could to live up to the reputation that the name of her ship carried. Most of the crew complement from the Carthage’s last trip to the Betreka Sector had either been promoted—like Troi and Lin—or moved on to other assignments—like Phillips and Garrett. The captain and Mike Zipser at communications were the only ones still in the same position they were fifteen years earlier. And Zip’s close enough to retirement that he probably doesn’t care all that much about the lack of promotion.
Haden leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his barrel chest, looking like a particularly cranky Buddha. “What’s your take on the Raknal situation, Commander?”
“I don’t have a ‘take’ just yet, Captain. That’s part of what I’m taking this trip to find out. From what I do know, I think my feelings fifteen years ago that this was an incredibly bad idea were justified.”
Snorting, Haden said, “That’s an understatement. The Cardassians and the Klingons have spent more time spitting on each other in space than they have actually exploiting the planet. They’ve both done lousy jobs of making use of Raknal’s resources, and half their equipment doesn’t work. You’d think that disaster with the Chutwould’ve been a wake-up call, but it hasn’t improved a damn thing.”
“Personally, sir, I’d rather wait until—”