Chapter 33

On board the Striker

"Guard, come here," she demanded from her cell. Zatha could tell that he was afraid of her. No doubt he wondered how long it would be until the tables were turned and she was out of this cell and once again in a position of power. Would she show him mercy? Perhaps all of these things were floating through the guard's head, or perhaps she was just imagining the scent of fear in the air.

"Guard!" she shouted again. Slowly he inched his way over to her, hand placed securely on his weapon in case she decided to try and jump through the force-field barrier.

"What do you want, prisoner?" He demanded.

"I want a favor from you," said Zatha.

The guard started to smile as though such an idea was almost humorous but then seemed to think better of it, and scowled.

"What kind of favor?" he said gruffly.

"I want to know whether there have been any subspace communications sent from this ship since we arrived here at Vulcan."

"You mean by General Thran? What's in it for me?" the guard asked suspiciously.

"To begin with, when I get out of here, I won't kill you. And if there is anyone else left alive, I'll make you part of my bridge crew."

The guard seemed to consider her offer. At the moment, she did not even have a ship. And for all he knew she was scheduled for execution once they returned home. On the other hand, he had been in line for a promotion for some time now but nothing ever seemed to come his way. This could beat going through the usual channels…then again he could end up being killed personally by General Thran. "What if they find out I agreed to help you?" he questioned warily.

Zatha's antennae pointed straight up as she looked at him slyly. "If I were you I wouldn't let them find out."


USS Enterprise

"Captain, thank you for coming," said Troi, walking to the door of her office to meet him. She touched his arm lightly and beckoned him in. "Please sit down", she said in a welcoming tone and gestured for him to sit. She sat down and continued to look up at him with a polite expression as he continued to stand stiffly.

As Captain Picard looked around, he noticed her office was now decorated somewhat luxuriously. He supposed many people who visited here presumably her patients, he thought, were quite comforted by the soft colors and low lighting, and he conceded that this was in fact the purpose of such decoration. Picard on the other hand was used to the stark environment of space travel and really needed very little now to make him comfortable. He realized with some surprise that he had perhaps become accustomed to discomfort, which seemed to suggest that discomfort for him had somehow become...comfortable. How very strange, he thought. He sighed and slowly sat down in a chair, sitting very straight.

Now sitting across from Counselor Troi, she watched him expectantly. He tapped his fingers on his thighs. What is she waiting for? She is the one who asked me here, and I haven't a thing to say, he thought. He could not help but notice that she was wearing another of her low-cut, one-piece uniforms that had been no doubt turning heads around the ship. He also noticed that she looked even more exotically beautiful in the low light. He shifted his gaze. Noticing her beauty made him uneasy, because he didn't want her to think he was gawking at her. Don't stare, he actually chided himself. Of course he respected her as a professional person, even if he still had some difficulty reconciling her role in the crew as of yet.

What began to make him even more uncomfortable was that he began to think about Beverly, how she smelled, how she felt… he could feel his chest and neck growing hot, and then he was entirely uncomfortable. He crossed one leg over the other and folded his arms over his chest. "It's a bit warm in here, isn't it?" he mentioned, leaning back in his chair.

Troi looked surprised at this suggestion. "I'm fine, Captain," she said. "But if you would like me to adjust the environmental controls—"

"No," he said abruptly. "Look. Counselor, why did you ask me here?"

"To talk…Captain, I must say, you seem very distracted."

"I am distracted Counselor, I need to return to my work on the bridge as soon as possible."

"Oh. Well, I apologize for interrupting your work, sir," she said with a slight smile. Did she know what he had actually been doing when she had called him? It hadn't exactly been work. He shifted in his seat. "Aside from being busy with the duties that come with being the captain of a starship, how are you feeling sir?"

"Quite well," he said stiffly. She smiled at him serenely. He stared back at her and a few silent moments passed. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?" he asked, beginning to feel annoyed.

"Well, Captain… in the last 72 hours or so you have escaped death several times, have been put through the psychological wringer along with the rest of the crew, you had your command taken away and then restored, and now..."

"Now…what?"

"Now I would like to know how you feel about all of it."

"I'm not at all accustomed to discussing my feelings, counselor."

"You say 'feelings' as though it is an obscene word," she laughed.

He shook his head. "There is nothing particularly wrong with having feelings, Counselor. I simply said that I am not accustomed to discussing them."

"With counselors?"

"With anyone," he clarified flatly.

She paused, not sure if the conversation could get any worse. "Well, that sounds very convenient for you, Captain, but it is my job to ask these questions. It is also my job to ensure the psychological welfare of this crew. Arguably, your psychological well-being is the most important of all the crew, since you are our leader. So would you do me the favor of breaking with your custom for a few minutes?"

He glared at her and it seemed to her that he was considering his options. For a moment she wondered if he would walk out of her office. But then, he inhaled sharply through his nose and said "Yes."

"Thank you, Captain," she said feeling somewhat relieved. She leaned forward to regard him with a soft smile. "Now. How do you feel now that Admiral Imhoff has left the ship?" she asked, studying his face carefully.

He rubbed his hands on his knees. "Relieved," he said. "…now that I can return to my duties."

She straightened. "I see," she said. "It was difficult for you, wasn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean," he said seriously.

"Well, you didn't agree with the decision to remove you from command, did you?"

"No, of course not," he snapped. "But one just doesn't…complain about such things."

"You mean you personally wouldn't complain?" she said. "Why not?"

"Well there are times to question an order, and other times to simply do what is asked of you."

Deanna Troi's face registered faint surprise. "Even if you disagree, and feel the order is unjust?"

"Yes," said Picard. "I expect my crew to carry out orders every day that they may or may not agree with. Why should I be any different?"

"And yet...at least in theory you would consider it acceptable for one of your subordinates to question or disobey an order that they reasonably consider to be unjust?"

He paused, but then nodded slowly. "Yes, depending on the circumstances, of course."

Troi smiled. "For someone with your reputation, that is a very refreshing answer, Captain," she said.

He raised his eyebrows. "And that reputation would be…"

"Have you ever seen your psych profile?"

"I assumed one had been created somewhere within the recesses of my personnel file, but no," he said. What game was she playing?

She took a data pad from the table next to her. "Here are some of the words used to describe you by Starfleet psychologists over the years, Captain, and I hope you won't be offended…"exacting, inflexible, over confident, arrogant, bold, resourceful, cold…shall I go on?"

Picard glared at her. "Counselor, surely they aren't all negative attributes."

"No, certainly not," admitted Troi. "But do you believe they accurately describe you? Do you believe you are an arrogant man?"

He laughed, but there was little humor in it. "I don't know Counselor. I am what I am, I suppose. I try not to be a difficult person, but no doubt I still am. You should consider however, that several of those psych evaluations were completed after…well, after traumatic experiences."

"Ah…in which you were suffering from trauma," she stated as though she were confirming something he had just admitted.

His eyes flashed with anger. "That is not what I said," he said stiffening visibly.

Troi's expression remained serene. "Captain, if they were not your traumatic experiences, then whose were they?"

She's trying to get into my head. "Several…deaths have occurred under my command, and even before I had my own command I experienced the death of colleagues, and then I lost the Stargazer…I suppose I was questioned after each of those incidents as per protocol. What I said during any of those interviews I don't recall."

What an incredibly evasive answer, thought Troi. "Captain is it that you don't want to give me the perception that you are weak, or were you really that unaffected by the deaths of your colleagues, and the loss of your ship?"

Picard glowered. "What an insulting thing to say," he snapped.

"Which part?" said Troi.

"To suggest that I am unaffected by these things is completely outrageous."

"I agree," said Troi. "And in my opinion, you were highly affected and deeply traumatized by these events and yet you give the appearance of having not been. Why is that?"

He continued to stare at her, but something subtle in his expression changed. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I suppose I don't believe it is anyone's business to know how I feel," he said.

"So, we are back there again. You might find your attitude about feelings difficult to maintain once you embark on a new relationship, Captain."

He swallowed. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, fearing he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I am talking about your changing relationship with Beverly Crusher," she said gently. His immediate, yet silent reaction to her statement was palpable. And another barrier has been raised, she thought. He thinks it is none of my business but he is not surprised that I know. "Captain, I only raise the issue, because I can see that it is troubling you." To her surprise his reaction held some amusement, inwardly of course. Apparently grappling with this issue was not new for him.

"I can assure you, Counselor, that Beverly Crusher does not trouble me," he said as calmly as possible.

"But your strong feelings for her do trouble you." Troi did a mental double-take at his non-verbal reaction. He has always had these feelings for her.

He sighed and looked at her as though really seeing her for the first time. "Counselor, I wish that I could remember a time when I did not feel troubled by these feelings."

Thank you for finally being honest. "Have you discussed your feelings with Beverly? Perhaps she would understand," she suggested.

"Perhaps she would not," he said obstinately.

"Don't you think that half a lifetime of waiting has made it worth the risk of finding out, Captain?"


The Striker

Zatha woke up from a brief nap. The guard had returned…

"There have been no communications from this ship aside from one call to the Ishran when you were still in command and one after you had been deposed."

"No incoming or outgoing transmissions from the High Command?"

"No, Commander- I mean prisoner..."

"Very well," said Zatha. "Your efforts and loyalty will not go unrewarded," she said. "As long as I am not executed before you," she added.

She wondered if he understood the importance of this information. If General Thran had not been regularly communicating with the High Command then he had gone rogue—he had no authorization to do what he was doing, which she assumed by now was escalating the assault on Vulcan. "Now…one more favor," she announced, and the guard's antennae drooped dramatically. "I need you to send a message to a friend of mine."