Chapter 10

After Arin had stormed out of her counseling session with Deanna Troi, she stomped down the corridor. She knew she was radiating anger and frustration, but she didn't care. She didn't want to throw her walls up around her emotions, like she had taught herself. These Starfleet officers walking by her—and most likely judging her—could go to hell. They didn't know anything about her or her life!

A hand grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Whoa, Arin, are you ok?" It was the man with the VISOR again. She yanked her arm out of his grip.

"Leave me alone, Starfleet!" she said, and speed-walked down the hallway.

She turned another corner and ended up in front of Wesley Crusher's door. Hoping his mother was still in sickbay, she pressed the door chime.

Luckily for Arin, Wesley opened the door.

"Oh, hi, Arin! How are you?"

Deciding it was her best bet to play the victim this time, she burst into fake tears. Inside, she was still seething.

"Arin, Arin, what's wrong? How can I help you? Come inside!" Wesley said, not knowing what to do.

"Oh, Wesley…Wes…I just don't feel ok! I don't know why I'm crying, I just don't!" She sobbed, wiping the tears from her face. She stumbled into the room and fell onto the couch.

Wesley sat beside her. Then he tapped his combadge. "Wesley to Dr. Cru—," he began.

"No!" Arin yelled, yanking Wesley's hand away from the device pinned to his gray outfit. "I'm not physically hurting, I'm just…" she broke off, trying to steady her choppy breaths.

"Maybe you should speak to Counselor Troi. I'm sure that would help," Wesley suggested.

"No, I already tried that. Nobody can help me—" then, suddenly, an idea came to Arin, "—but you," she said.

"Me?" Wesley asked.

"Yes." Arin looked around the room.

"How?" Wesley was confused.

"You can…you can get me something to drink from the replicator, first," she said. "I'm thirsty."

"Ok," Wesley said. He sighed in relief. He could do that for her.

Wesley got up and walked to the replicator. Arin looked around the room, eyes clear of tears that she had cried only a moment ago.

Then, as Wesley was calling up a glass of cold water, Arin eyed a small gray device on a desk.

"Wes," she uttered as he came back with her drink. She took the glass and sipped it, more for Wesley's benefit than anything. "What's that?"

"It's a tricorder," he replied.

"I'd like to know how it works," she said. For an explanation, she added, "I like learning about technology." In all reality, she couldn't care less. She was running out of time…

"Ok…" Wesley said, still confused from Arin's jumping emotions. He got up from the couch and grabbed the tricorder from the desk. Then, he sat back down next to Arin. "You open it, like this, and you press this button when you want to record data. That's what it is used for—recording and deciphering possibly anomalous information. We use these, for example, on away missions when visiting a new planet. There are small scanners and sensors within the device that pick up any information from the space around you."

Arin nodded. Wes looked up at her, an expression of relief coming back into his eyes at her calm exterior demeanor. Feeling encouraged, he continued.

"You can check the diagnostics you ran by pushing this button over here, and it will show you graphs and charts to help you better comprehend the information. The tricorder will automatically store the data for future use unless you delete it, which you can do here," he pointed to another button.

"I like this," Arin said, taking the tricorder and turning it over in her hands. "Can I keep it, Wes?" she asked him, trying to make her voice as sweet and innocent as possible.

"Uh…" Wesley answered, smoothly. "Uh, no, I don't think Captain Picard would like me to give this away to anyone."

"How about I just borrow it so that I can figure it out? It's so interesting," she persisted.

"No, I'm sorry, Arin, but I can't do that," Wesley answered, finding his resolve. "I hope you understand." So, he had been brainwashed by Starfleet "ethics" too, Arin could see.

Arin frowned, a look that completely transformed her face, Wesley noticed. Then, her face softened and she smiled at him. "I understand, Wes. I completely understand."

Wesley relaxed. He had felt so helpless when she had been crying. It was such a horrible feeling. Now that the tears were gone from her bright blue eyes, he felt that maybe he wasn't so bad with girls after all. Not if comforting them included telling them about Starfleet technology, he supposed.

Arin took another sip of her drink—it was her way of giving herself a moment to think. She needed that tricorder.

"Wesley," Arin said after a moment. "I really appreciate you giving me…a shoulder to cry on. I haven't had that in a long time."

"Any time, Arin," Wesley responded. "I can only imagine how you're feeling right now. I've been doing some studying on Romulans. They've never been the nicest lifeforms in the galaxy. If I can help again, please let me know."

Wesley Crusher looked so willing to help and so concerned that Arin realized this was the perfect time distract him. She leaned closer to him—praying to anything worth anything in this universe that he wouldn't shy away—and kissed him, right on the lips.

Arin knew Wesley's heart was racing right about now, and his thoughts were probably the most jumbled they've ever been. It most likely hadn't been nice of her to play him from the beginning, but she knew his inexperience and his enthusiasm toward becoming a Starfleet officer made him an easy pawn.

When Arin pulled away, she made sure to stare him in the eyes. Wesley looked surprised at first, but then he relaxed and smiled.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"You've been so kind to me, Wesley, I thought I'd give you something in return."

Wesley persisted to smile, his face blushed bright red from the kiss. Arin made sure he didn't drop his gaze by continuing to stare him in the eyes. She stood up and walked toward the door, moving with all of the womanly charm she could muster. Glancing behind her, Arin noticed Wesley was still grinning and staring at her. She turned her head with a swish of her ebony hair and pressed the button to open the doors. Out in the corridor, she heard the doors hiss shut behind her, and she looked down in triumph at the small gray tricorder still in her hands. This was a piece of cake.