Arriving at Isla's quarters, Deanna pressed the button to enter. There was no response from inside the room. She tried the button again. Once more, nothing.
"Isla, it's Counselor Troi, can I come in?" Deanna asked her through the door. Still no reaction. Something strange is going on, Deanna pondered. "Computer, current location of Isla Scott?"
"Ensign Isla Scott is in her quarters," the computer answered. Concern sparked in Deanna's eye. She immediately keyed in the door release codes, pressing buttons frantically.
"Isla?" she asked, entering the room, looking around desperately. She found Isla lying on the ground, groaning as she approached. The door slid shut automatically. "Isla!" she helped the younger woman to sit. He face was sallow, her cheeks shaded. She just felt like skin and bones in Deanna's arms.
"Counselor," Isla breathed, opening her eyes and blinking a few times, squinting. She took a few quick breaths. "I'm sorry, I must've passed out for a second. I don't know what happened."
"Are you okay?" Deanna asked her.
"Yes, I just need a glass of water," Isla insisted, trying to get to her feet. But Deanna held her down.
"I think I should call a doctor," Deanna told her, reaching for her communicator.
"No, I'm fine, really, I just need a glass of water," Isla insisted again.
"Isla, you lost consciousness," Deanna told her sternly. "You're damaging your body, this has gone on long enough."
"Counselor Troi, I'm fine," Isla said, squinting her eyes as her head throbbed momentarily before the pain subsided to a dull ache.
"I can sense whether you're telling the truth," Deanna reminded her.
"Please, I have to do this, it's the only way my father will listen!" Isla said softly. Deanna was torn. She could sense the overwhelming feelings from Isla that she was right, it was the only way to get her father's attention.
"Okay then," Deanna finally succumbed.
"Thank you," Isla told her sincerely. Deanna helped her to the bed. She got her a glass of water and handed it to her.
"You're freezing!" Counselor Troi exclaimed upon briefly brushing against her hand.
"My hands are usually cold," Isla admitted. "Normally the station I work is a degree or two hotter because I'm constantly moving around and there are people everywhere." She downed the glass in one gulp, wincing as it fell into place in her empty stomach.
"Water isn't very satisfying," Deanna pointed out. Isla shrugged.
"I'll do what I have to," she admitted. "Even if it means this."
"You're that desperate to leave Starfleet?" Counselor Troi asked her, sitting beside her on the bed. Isla nodded. "Why?"
"It's complicated Counselor," Isla said gently. "If I tell you, I'll have committed an offence and that would warrant my court marshall."
"Is it about the Prime Directive?" Deanna asked. Isla looked up, hesitating a moment.
"Counselor, I can't say anything or my father will have something to charge me for," Isla repeated.
"Your grandfather found a problem with the philosophical argument," Deanna pointed out. "I know about the paper he wrote several decades ago." This struck a chord in Isla.
"He was silenced unfairly by Starfleet," Isla turned away angrily. "No one ever took him seriously again after that. It broke his heart." Deanna put an arm around Isla's shoulders.
"I'm sure he's a brilliant man," Deanna assured her.
"Two hundred years too brilliant for his time," Isla sighed. "Persecuted by society, even my father turned against him."
"What do you mean 200 years?" Counselor Troi asked, confused.
"I can tell you once my resignation has been processed," Isla stopped herself just in time. She wasn't fully certain if telling the Counselor would violate any Starfleet laws, but it was better to be on the safe side in this matter than risk giving her father a case against her. She could still sense Counselor Troi's curiosity though, and it gnawed at what was left of her will power. "People always think that organisations, civilisations, cultures, species, while they exist they think they will last forever. But they don't. Cultures are constantly changing, species are adapting and diversifying or standardising. Organisations come and go. Starfleet is just a military organisation."
"Starfleet is to keep peace in the Federation," Deanna argued. Isla shook her head.
"We shouldn't discuss it too much," she sighed and lay down on the bed.
"You're tired, I'll let you rest," Deanna excused herself, standing up.
"Thank you for your support Counselor," Isla said as Deanna approached the door.
"I still don't understand why you think you have to do this? Starving yourself is dangerous," Deanna reminded her. Isla didn't argue this time. Deanna sighed, sensing her understanding of the predicament she was in. "Captain Picard is organising for you and your father to speak over subwave after we have the situation on Mesaleen under control."
"Thanks," Isla said, barely a whisper. As she left, Deanna could only feel her presence faintly, despite only having a door between them.