It was more than Deanna could take. Her fists balled, and with her heart racing, Deanna turned and virtually ran out of Lwaxana's quarters.
Q shook his head sympathetically. "Poor girl," he said.
"Yes," said Lwaxana. "It's so difficult for a child when a parent becomes involved with someone else." "Are we involved?" asked Q.
Lwaxana eyed him coquettishly over the top of her glass. "I would say we're definitely something. Unless you have a problem...?" "Certainly not," said Q stiffly. "I find you a most intriguing individual, Lwaxana Troi. You speak forthrightly, and you don't prejudge me. They're envious, you know." "Who is?" He gestured with his head. "Picard and the others." "Jean-Luc!" She made a dismissive wave. "Posh. Jean-Luc Picard is the most non-jealous male I've ever encountered. Although he does tend to harbor some rather tawdry thoughts in regard to me." "The brute!" declared Q. "He thinks, because he is the captain, he can take such liberties!" "Oh, he can't be held responsible for that," said Lwaxana. "After all, he is only human, and I am... me. Besides, all he's done is think about it. He hasn't actually done anything. Thought is not the same as deed." "It is for me," said Q. "That's probably where my confusion set in."
Deanna wasn't really paying any attention to where she was going. Instead she just barrelled down the hallway, her arms pumping, her thoughts racing.
How? How was it possible that an empath and a telepath were having communications problems? It was insane! It didn't make any sense at all.
Suddenly Wesley Crusher was in front of her, and she almost bumped into him. He had just exited from his quarters as if shot from a cannon.
If she'd been remotely interested in anything except her own problems, Deanna would have noticed. Instead she said briskly, "Excuse me, Wesley," and started to continue down the hall.
"No! Counselor!" He grabbed her by the arm with such force that Deanna thought it might have been wrenched from the socket. He was grasping her like a life preserver. "Counselor, wait!" Waves of anxiety were flooding from him, almost overwhelming her. She gasped as much from the mental barrage as from the physical grabbing. "What is it, Wes?" she said, trying to re-attune herself from focussing on her own problems to those of someone else.
Other people were walking past and glancing their way, and Wesley quickly pulled her close. In a low, urgent voice, he said, "I need you." She looked at their physical proximity, heard the words he had spoken, and in spite of herself, the edges of her mouth went up slightly in amusement. "Some people might misinterpret that," she said.
Wes was so distracted he didn't even realize what she was saying. "Listen, I have to talk to you," he spoke in a rushed whisper.
"I can't talk to Commander Riker, Captain Picard, or Geordi because they'll think it's funny, and Data wouldn't understand, and I sure can't tell my mother..." She put calming hands on his shoulders.
"Wesley, slow down. Talk to me. Tell me what the problem is." "Promise you won't laugh." "I'm a trained counselor, Wes," said Deanna, becoming more grateful by the moment that something had happened to take her mind off her immediate problem. Also, she'd made that selfsame request of her fellow officers not too long ago, when explaining the Ab'brax. Riker broke his promise and snickered. She'd almost decked him. "I've heard a great deal in my career. I assure you I won't laugh." "All right." He entered his quarters, pulling Deanna in behind him. The doors hissed shut.
Deanna's dark eyes widened when she saw the naked blue woman on Wesley's bed. The blue woman smiled sweetly.
"Uhm... hello," said Deanna uncertainly. She stared at the girl but spoke to Wesley through teeth that were clenched in an uncomfortable smile. "Is she a friend of yours?" "We just met," said Wesley.
Deanna turned and looked at Wes.
"Commander Riker would say you're a fast worker." "That's why I didn't want Commander Riker here," Wes said pointedly, and quickly crossed the room to the girl. He hurriedly drew a sheet around her. "Look, go wait in there, okay?" he said in exasperation.
She nodded and went into the bathroom. Wesley pushed a button and the door slid shut. He turned to Deanna. "She's a gift," he said, feeling tired already.
"Obviously you unwrapped her." "Deanna!" he howled. "I told you, I could've gotten Commander Riker down here if I wanted jokes!" "I'm sorry." "And you promised not to laugh!" "I'm sorry," she said again, covering her mouth and now empathizing with Riker's earlier amusement at her expense. She waited a moment to compose herself and then looked up at him. "A gift, you said? From whom, may I ask?" He ran fingers through his hair. "From Sehra of Graziunas." "Why would Sehra of Graziunas give you a naked young woman?" "She didn't know my shirt size! I don't know!" He started to pace. "What do I do with her?" "What does she expect you to do with her?" Wesley looked at her.
"Oh," said Deanna. "Are you certain that that is... yes, I guess it would be somewhat evident, wouldn't it?" She shook her head. "And how does that make you feel?" "Kind of stupid. I mean... I can't make love to her." He looked at Deanna.
"Can I?" She folded her arms. "You're asking my permission?" "No! I mean... no. It wouldn't be right, that's all. I mean... I tried talking to her, Counselor. Tried to find out about her background, find out who she was. She's a few bricks shy, you know?" "She didn't seem very shy," said Deanna, glancing over where the woman had been moments before.
"Never mind. It's an old saying," said Wes. He was perched on a chair, his legs drawn up under himself. "She's too willing, you know? Kind of vacuous. It's just not right, that's all." Troi smiled. "I admit I'm impressed, Wesley. There are quite a few teenage boys I know of who would not pass up this sort of opportunity. It takes a certain type of young man not to take advantage of a naked, willing, empty-headed young woman who is offering herself to him." "Yeah," said Wes ruefully. "The type being a stupid young man." "Your mother would be proud." "Ohhh," moaned Wes, putting his head in his hands. "That's the worst thing you could say.
Commander Riker would probably laugh at me for not taking advantage of her." "Wesley!" said Deanna. "You make it sound like Commander Riker will go after anything that's female, good-looking, and has a pulse!" Wes looked up at her.
"Rather than explore that," Deanna said quickly, sensing that she was abruptly on uncertain ground, "let's move on to the main problem. If you are deterred by the prospect of this "gift," what do you intend to do?" "I don't know! I can't give her back.
It would be insulting. Do you think," he said hopefully, "that Captain Picard would let her stay on board?" "In what capacity?" "As my..." and Wesley's voice trailed off. "Guess not," said Wesley. "She can't stay here, though." Deanna stood. "I will talk to the captain," she said, trying to sound as serious as she could, "about finding quarters for the young lady until such time that things can be sorted out." "Thank you. Maybe you could hurry...?" "Warp speed," she said with a smile, and uncrossing her legs, she stood.
"Deanna... you don't think less of me, do you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Less of you? Because you consider sex to be an act between two people who feel, at the very least, a deep and mutual attraction based on a variety of factors?
Rather than displaying a "She's here, she's willing, let's do it" attitude? What do you think I am, Wesley? A typical human teenage male?" He actually smiled at that. "Hardly." "Good." She patted him on the shoulder and walked out.
The blue woman stuck her head out of the bathroom. "Wesley? Do you want me now?" Part of him definitely did. He waved weakly and said, "Tell you what. Go back in there and wait until I call, all right?" "All right, Wesley," she said agreeably, and withdrew from sight.
Wesley softly thudded his head against a wall.
Lwaxana slowly circled her cabin, regarding Q with interest. "Have you ever been married?" she asked.
"No," said Q. "Marriage is a very human concept. Being together forever takes on quite a different meaning when eternity is one's reality rather than an abstraction." "You never die?" she asked in wonderment.
"Not unless I wish it," said Q, "and even then, not in terms that you would understand." "Try and explain it to me." "I can't," he said simply. "There are no words. Only concepts." "You forget. I'm a powerful telepath." "Powerful for human terms, perhaps," said Q.
"But in my terms..." She put the glass down. "Try me," she said firmly.
He regarded her thoughtfully. "You become more and more intriguing, Lwaxana Troi. You are only the second individual whom I have encountered that I hold out any hope for." "Who's the first?" "Data." She frowned. "You're serious." "Oh yes. Q. Are you certain you're serious about dealing with the Q concept of death?" "Dead serious." "Very well." He put down his own glass and moved towards her. He extended a hand, then hesitated, looking at it for a brief moment as if he were surprised that it was there. Then he reached out and touched the side of Lwaxana's head with a single finger.
For a brief moment, Lwaxana felt an inhuman coolness in his touch, and something more.
something that both attracted and frightened her.
And then she was overwhelmed.
Picard didn't glance up from his desk as the signal sounded from the door of the ready room.
"Come," he said briskly.
Deanna Troi entered and said, "Captain, I need to talk to you for a moment about..." And then she gasped and staggered against a wall.
Picard was immediately out of his seat, supporting her.
He helped her to a couch and was surprised to see that she had gone deathly white.
"Mother..." she whispered, and then she passed out.
Chapter Thirteen
"Picard to security," he snapped.
"Security team to Mrs. Troi's quarters, immediately." Deanna was sitting up already, which was a good sign. She looked shaken nonetheless, and for a moment she actually seemed frightened. "Mother..." she said again.
"It's all right, Counselor," said Picard firmly. "A security team is on their way to ascertain your mother's safety." "I have to go to her!" said Deanna, and tried to get to her feet. But her legs gave out and she sank back onto the couch. "I have to..." she whispered.
"What happened?" he demanded in the sort of no-nonsense voice that indicated he had better get a brisk, efficient answer. It was like being doused with cold water, and Deanna composed herself so that she could give the sort of response her commanding officer required.
"I'm sensitive to my mother's moods and feelings, as you know," she said. "And there was some sort of--I don't know how else to say it--overload. As if she had been exposed to something that was too much for her mind to cope with." "Q?" asked Picard.
"It would seem likely," admitted Deanna.
With a scowl, Picard said, "We'll know soon enough."
Lwaxana felt strong arms around her and she blinked in confusion. "Q...?" she murmured.
The world fell into focus around her, and she found that she was looking up at Mr. Homn. On his normally impassive face was an expression of concern.
She drew herself up and took a deep breath to clear her head. "I'm all right, Mr.
Homn," she said, although she did allow him to help her to her feet. She allowed herself to be impressed once more by his strength as he moved her, as if she were weightless, over to a chair.
She looked around. "Where's Q?" Homn made no reply. He didn't need to.
"Yes, obviously he left," said Lwaxana. "Why? After what happened--" And she frowned. What had happened, anyway?
There was something, some sort of images in her mind. The barest flickering of concepts and ideas that she could just sense, at the outskirts of her consciousness. As if she had learned something, seen something, that was more than she could handle. It was wonderful, frightening, orgasmic and more. And her mind, in self-defense, had shut down.
Protected her. Protected her from... what?
There was an urgent buzzing at her door.
"Come in," she said distractedly.
Worf entered, with two security men backing him up. They had their phasers out. They were automatically scanning all corners of the room.
"Are you all right?" rumbled Worf.
"I'm fine," said Lwaxana. "Perfectly fine." She smoothed out the front of her dress.
"Why do you ask?" Worf didn't seem satisfied. "We were alerted that there might be some sort of difficulties." "None at all." "Are you quite certain?" "I'm not accustomed to having my word questioned, Mr. Worf," said Lwaxana archly.
Worf drew himself up straight. "I am not questioning your word, Mrs. Troi. Merely circumstances." "The circumstances are just fine, thank you. You may leave now." Worf seemed to glower at that. He turned to his men and said, with just the faintest touch of sarcasm, "We may leave now." They backed out of the room slowly, as if on guard for some last-minute attack. Worf nodded slightly and the door closed.
