Orion's Hounds

“All of those conditions were corrected,” Tuvok insisted.

“Yes, but they left their scars. As did the extensive torture and hardship you recently endured at Romulan hands. You are still in the process of healing from that; your emotional control was tenuous for a Vulcan even before we encountered the jellies.” Tuvok said nothing, but he didn’t need to; his shame was redolent. “And even if you had mastered the emotional trauma completely, it would still have left a physical spoor in your neurochemistry, as did all the other neurological traumas you’ve experienced. Your mind, my friend, bears a proud and admirable catalog of scars. You are a survivor, and should be esteemed for that, but being a survivor carries its costs. In this case, the inhibitor is simply limited in its ability to affect your particular neurochemistry. A purer, more i

Tuvok’s eyes were hard to read, but his scent was an odd mix of gratitude and disappointment. “In that case, I have no choice but to remain relieved of duty.”

“Or you could simply accept the passions into you and bend them to your will.”

The Vulcan looked at him oddly. “I wish it could be that easy, Doctor.”

“Dea

Troi held the lift doors and allowed Christine Vale to step in. “Bridge?” she asked.

“Yeah.” The car started into motion, but Vale spoke up. “Do you mind if we hold the lift for a moment? I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Not at all. Computer, hold.”

The lift came to a stop, and Vale spoke. “I wanted to apologize for the briefing the other day. I was a bit…confrontational toward you. Implying that you might’ve given sensitive information to the star-jellies. I know you wouldn’t really do that.”

Troi raised her brows. “How do you know I wouldn’t? Tuvok almost did.”

Vale stared at her. “Are you saying you might?”

“That’s not the question. The question is whether you think I might. If you feel there’s a legitimate concern, Christine, you shouldn’t deny it to protect my feelings.”

“Okay,” Vale said after a moment. “Frankly I did have some concern about that. But it’s the way I think. It’s my training—I worry about security risks. I knew you wouldn’t betray your duties under normal circumstances, but from what I understood about the power of their emotions, how strongly they make you identify with them, I couldn’t be sure.”

“Of course.”

“But it was Tuvok who broke, not you. That’s actually…well, pretty impressive. To have more control than a Vulcan. So I’m not worried about you anymore.”

“Except on general principles,” Troi said.

Vale stared. “What do you mean? Dea

“It’s all right, I understand. You see it as part of your job to make sure my relationship with Will doesn’t affect his command decisions. To be a balance to my influence, if necessary.”

“Yeah. Right. That’s just it,” Vale said, nodding. “I’m glad you understand. I just wanted it to be clear that there’s nothing personal about it.”

Yet that brought a disapproving look from Troi. “You’re doing it again, Christine.”

“Doing what?”

“Hiding what you really feel. If we’re to have a viable relationship, you mustn’t hesitate to be honest with me.”

“What—you think it ispersonal? Come on, Dea

“I do, of course. And it’s mutual. But that doesn’t mean there can’t be tensions. Jealousies.”

Vale gaped at her. “You don’t mean—Dea

Dea

Vale glared. “You know, those powers of yours can be a little invasive at times.”

“Christine, the only power I need to discern that is eyesight. And experience at observing humanoid behavior,” she added. “Don’t worry—I don’t think it’s obvious to everyone that you’ve slept together.”

Now she blushed. Just those who’ve seen us in the same room, I bet.“It was only the one time.”

Dea

“I don’t! I’m not…We worked it out. It was a onetime thing, no strings, we’re both okay with that. It’s behind us.”

“So why does the subject make you so defensive?”

Vale started to protest, but realized that Dea

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Well…a little scared. Dating a coworker…it’s risky. There’s so much that can go wrong. So many ways it can mess up the relationship, or the job. It’s a hard balance at best.”

Dea

“Yeah.” She saw where Troi was going. “And you think I’m projecting that onto you and Will. Being hard on you because of it.”

“What do you think?”

Vale let out a frustrated puff of breath. “I think, frankly, Dea

“Compete with me?” This time her question actually seemed surprised, not just a therapist’s prompt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that six months ago I was a lieutenant, a security chief. I never expected to be on the command track, let alone to be a first officer so soon. But here I am, thrust into it practically out of nowhere. That leaves me with a lot to prove. To myself, to my crewmates, to Starfleet. I’m still figuring out how to do this job, let alone how to balance it with a relationship.

“But a lot of the things that are supposed to be part of my job—managing the crew’s affairs, leading away missions—you have a hand in those too. I rarely feel like I’m doing any of it on my own. And you’ve known Will so much longer, have decades of experience with him. I’m the first officer, I’m supposed to be Will’s partner…but you’ve been his partner a lot longer, in a much deeper way. You automatically have his ear—hell, you have his mind’sear. A lot of the time, on the bridge, when he’s trying to make a decision, he looks to you before he looks to me. And if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were literally communing telepathically.”

For the first time in this conversation, Dea

“I didn’t know you could do that!”

“Normally I can’t with a non-Betazoid. But Will and I…partly it’s the intimacy of our bond, and partly just that our minds have somehow always been more in tune than most. It’s something that’s gotten stronger since we were married.”

Vale absorbed it. “Well. I appreciate you telling me. Now will you tell me how I’m supposed to compete with that?”

Dea