AN: This is just for fun. This can be read alone, but it is enhanced by reading it along with the others I've written for Lwaxana and Odo.

I use * before telepathic dialogue.

I own nothing from Star Trek.

I hope you enjoy! If you do enjoy, please do let me know!

111

Nobody would have paid much attention to the large potted Bermillian palm in the lounge of the USS Meritus—a small vessel mostly used for diplomatic missions and the transportation of representatives from one place to another—except for those who were stationed aboard the ship, and those were few and aware of what was soon to be taking place there, so they wouldn't have mentioned that it looked at all out of place.

The Federation did not set "traps" for poorly behaved members of the Federation or for non-Federation members. They also did not care for the word "test" when it came to dealing with certain presumably undesirable types. They would, however, create scenarios that allowed such individuals to incriminate themselves.

The potted palm had been placed in the lounge for just such a scenario. Or, rather, the palm had placed itself in the lounge.

Odo thought the palm was one of the most inconspicuous things he could become, given the rather sparse décor of the lounge area. The Meritus was a small ship, and it was currently being run with little more than a skeleton crew for even a vessel of its size. On this particular mission, it was carrying more security than it usually did, but that was because the Federation had already presumed that the scenario put in place would play out a certain way.

The Meritus was, on this mission, also purposefully carrying more representatives than it normally would, but that was part of the scenario as well.

The Durakian representatives that were aboard the Meritus were being transported to Federation Headquarters for a conference where they hoped to negotiate a trade agreement. The Durakians were a trade-centric society. It was some question about the nature of their trades, however, and those with whom they commonly did business, that raised the so-called eyebrows of the Federation.

The Durakians were not Federation members and, in fact, they had always seemed to trade with "everyone," even those who engaged in trade practices that the Federation was strongly against. There were rumors and allegations—in particular by a few individuals who claimed to have "escaped" Durak, that the Durakians engaged in a sort of trade that involved moving individuals they captured from various species.

The Durakians called themselves a "private" species, and they shared little about their culture. It was known that they often procreated with members of other species—nearly every Durakian being at least, in some way, a hybrid of more than one species—and it was known that this fact was mostly owing to some unique characteristics of Durakian physiology that made it difficult, though not entirely impossible, for two Durakians to reproduce together.

This fact, of course, was not really troubling on its own. What was troubling was the fact that the population of Durak boasted really very few full-blooded members of any off-world species—something that raised at least a little suspicion. Durakians often refused comment on the topic, or else they offered the explanation that many Durakians paid willing members of other species to offer their services in procreation. For a price, after all, nearly everything could be acquired. It was hinted, though not said outright, that the Durakians tended to trade Tritanite, a metal that was useful and found in copious amounts on their planet, to those who would offer anything they might need—including help keeping the population growing.

These practices, again, were not frowned upon in any way. The practice, if willing and consenting, fell within acceptable trade practices.

The concern was that the practice was neither willing nor consenting. The few people who had raised concerns and stated that they had some firsthand knowledge of what was happening on Durak had been silenced—either discredited as mad or suffering from some illness or another, or they had simply disappeared and were unreachable.

There had been some investigation into alleged complaints that the Durakians were involved in the trade of sentient beings—both into their world and off of their world—but nothing had ever been found to confirm the statements. As a private species, after all, the Durakians kept their planet very well protected from prying eyes, and any permitted tours never revealed anything out of the ordinary.

Odo noted, though, that Tritanite was a metal that was often coveted for its abilities to block different kinds of scanning rays.

The Federation had sent, from Starfleet Intelligence, a Betazoid officer to meet several Durakian representatives on Durak. The officer had found it impossible to read the species and, therefore, had really learned nothing new about them or their possibly covert practices.

That was where the potted Bermillian palm came into things—at least to some degree.

Odo heard the Durakian representatives coming toward the lounge long before they were visible there. More than he heard them, he heard their companion—they would have just recently met her as she passed by them, in the corridor, on her way to greet the new guests aboard and ask if they wanted to join her for some stimulating conversation and a snack in the lounge.

Lwaxana Troi's voice carried.

Odo watched as the woman—clad in a bright purple ensemble with her favorite platinum wig and a few choice pieces of shiny jewelry—came into the space with a Durakian representative on each arm. They pulled a chair out for her at the bar in an almost empty lounge. The barkeep, a Mogdian who must have been hired for some skill and not for his personality, took orders from the three new arrivals to his lounge—his only customers—and, after placing drinks in front of them, he disappeared off to a corner to go back to reading from a PADD.

If the unproven allegations were correct, the Durakians found ways to acquire new people for their trade ring through various methods of kidnapping—though the reports had said that they were charming enough that most walked willingly into the trap before they realized what was going on.

Naturally, the most desirable to the Durakians, if the allegations were true, were individuals that, in some way, could be guaranteed to contribute to their needs—particularly their procreational needs.

Those who didn't know Lwaxana Troi—or who only knew her superficially—knew that she was a Daughter of the Fifth House, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed, and an Ambassador for Betazed. She announced these things loudly and frequently, and most people never bothered to get to know her beyond that.

She was, however, much deeper than she let on to nearly everyone—though Odo knew her very well. She was his beloved wife, his imzadi—a connection made fully possible thanks to Lwaxana's Betazoid abilities, and mother to his children—an adopted son, Veta, from Lwaxana's previous marriage, and two tiny little half-Betazoid and half-Changeling twins that Lwaxana was carrying.

Lwaxana Troi was also one of the strongest known telepaths in the four quadrants, though she often kept that to herself, at least to some degree. She was an undercover operative for Federation Intelligence, as well. She had also allowed herself, as the first person to ever carry Changelings in any form, to be an object of study for the growth of science and medicine in the Federation, in exchange for their assistance in helping her to conceive the twins with Odo and, hopefully, to see them to a healthy birth.

It was the presence of these twins that made Lwaxana a prime candidate for this mission.

Few people outside of those who needed to know for the research being done, and outside of family and close friends, knew that Lwaxana was carrying twins. As a result, some were beginning to suspect that she was further advanced in her pregnancy—which they assumed she'd kept secret until now—than she actually was. The tiny show of a belly that she'd worried simply made her look like she'd gained weight, and nothing more, was starting to take on a certain pronounced roundness that announced that she was carrying something there that wasn't simply the result of overindulgence.

It would be enough that the Durakians, if what was said about their trade, would take notice of her current state of maternity. They would, with any luck, at least think about the possibilities available to them, and Lwaxana, hopefully, would be a strong enough telepath to read minds that other Betazoids simply couldn't access—something she'd proved able to do before. This could let the Federation know about the real practices of the species, and it could help them make moves toward stopping illegal activities that affected those who were kidnapped and subjected to negative treatment.

Lwaxana had been thrilled with the excitement. She was happy to meet a member of a species she'd never met before, she enjoyed the thrill of a mission, and she was excited for any reason to show off the slight showing of their twins, now that she felt she could begin to admire the changes starting in her body instead of scrutinizing and disliking them.

Odo was less than thrilled to see his wife and offspring used as bait.

The Federation employed him to be Lwaxana's personal security, and it was just as well—he felt far too protective to leave her alone and entrust her safety to any other security personnel without at least being there to help.

Lwaxana was all smiles and happy, loud conversation—exactly what was expected of her by anyone who only shallowly knew Lwaxana Troi. She entertained the Durakians while they drank, and she pretended that their conversation was fascinating—though they really said very little. She asked them questions carefully, never making her interest seem even truly genuine beyond the idle curiosity of a busy-body. Even Odo sensed when they started to relax a little. He wondered how much she was learning about them that went far beyond what she might be saying.

His mind was open to Lwaxana, as his imzadi, but she wasn't projecting toward him at the moment. She was focused on the task at hand, and he didn't dare to interrupt her or distract her.

Watching Lwaxana have a conversation in which he was not involved was, after some time, a bit dull. Odo found himself drifting as surely as the barkeep was drifting while he entertained himself with whatever he found of interest, only occasionally returning to refresh a drink or offer a snack.

It wasn't until there was some significant movement, some time after the conversation began, that Odo felt his interest piqued again.

"Well—now gentlemen…of course, I'd love to accompany you…"

Odo looked toward the barkeep who had the specific job of alerting the ship's security, as discreetly as possible, if the small group of three were to appear to be leaving the lounge under the suggestion of the Durakians, and not that of Lwaxana.

The barkeep, Odo was almost certain, was asleep—and utterly useless at his job.

Odo hesitated, wondering if he should contact someone or not. To do so would be to give away his position and his presence. He finally chose to reach out with his mind.

* "Lwaxana…should I contact someone?"

He worried her mind would be too occupied trying to read the two Durakian individuals to be able to hear him. He felt immense relief when she responded.

* "Odo—they say they want to show me some Durakian treasure they're referencing. Apparently, their ship is within transporter range and following the Meritus. They say there's some treasure or something of the like, but they only want to get me aboard under a false pretense that they feel won't alert anyone here. They intend to take me to Durak."

Odo had to give her credit. While transferring this to him, she kept her composure. She smiled and laughed at small talk. Outwardly, she stalled for time by rearranging a piece of jewelry she claimed was poking her and asking a question about the decorative pieces of clothing that one of the Durakians wore—a Durakian that visibly held her hard by the arm.

She was calmer than Odo.

At the moment when one of the Durakians, annoyed with her dawdling, did something that made her yelp in response, Odo decided that he cared not at all for waiting for the barkeep to contact security or for the Durakians to say or do anything else incriminating.

Odo took his human form immediately. His unexpected and sudden presence drew the attention of the Durakians. He shifted, calling for backup even as he formed tentacle-like appendages that caught the Durakians so entirely by surprise that he was able to easily wrap around each of them to restrain them.

"Release the woman," he demanded.

The Durakian that was somewhat twisting Lwaxana's arm was surprised enough to do just that.

Security was there in a moment.

Odo was accustomed to the surprise that registered on people's features when they saw him change shape. He gave the security officers credit that they didn't hesitate long, pushing off their surprise, before restraining the Durakians so that he could release them and return to his more customary shape.

Odo heard Lwaxana's quick exchange with them, and the promise that she'd be reaching out to her Federation contact very soon with the information not recorded by the wire she'd worn—that information would already be transferring, and she disconnected the wire to stop it from recording further.

When the security team left with the Durakians, Lwaxana sat back down at the bar with a loud sigh. Odo recognized some fatigue in the sound, and he came to her, wrapping his arms around her affectionately from behind.

"Are you injured, Beloved."

"Oh—gracious, me, no!" Lwaxana said.

"You cried out," Odo said, not satisfied.

The barkeep, awakened by the scuffle, but no more enthusiastic than he'd been before, shuffled over.

"Warm Ferellian Cider, non-alcoholic, for the lady," Odo ordered. "To settle your nerves, Beloved," he said when Lwaxana looked at him. Her expression softened and she smiled. She patted the seat next to her and Odo took it.

"I suppose he did twist my arm a little," she said. "There was a catch in my elbow, that's all."

Odo took her arm in his hands and examined it. She thanked the barkeep for the warm drink, and she smiled at Odo and hummed before pulling her arm back.

"Don't fuss, Husband," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice. "It's nothing—and what there is, if anything, can be easily mended. We'll request transport to the Enterprise from here. Veta will love to see his sister, and Beverly can look at me, if it'll make you arrange your face back to its normal appearance."

She made a face at Odo, and he laughed. He realized he'd been scowling, and he did "return" his face back to what she knew best—keeping the smile that she brought him.

"There is a doctor on the Meritus, Lwaxana," Odo said.

She clicked her tongue. He already knew he'd lost.

"I have the most wonderful thing to show you," she said, doing her best to distract him. "Oh—Odo—I do hope you can feel it. It's so strong…oh…there it is…you must be able to. Here."

She took Odo's arm with her hand and he watched her movement. She wasn't wincing when she moved her arm, so he assumed she was probably fine. Still, he would have Dr. Crusher examine her when they arrived on the Enterprise. Lwaxana pressed Odo's hand against her belly. Since they were alone, he shifted his shape to spread out across the whole of the roundness there, taking it in entirely.

"I still don't sense anything, Beloved," he said.

"I can feel them, Odo," Lwaxana said, smiling happily. "Oh—it's not as strong as it will be, I know, but I feel them fluttering around. It's much more like…like something swimming, Odo, than it was before. It nearly makes me feel motion sick if I focus on it too hard."

"They are Changelings," Odo offered.

Lwaxana smiled and leaned close to him, nuzzling his face.

"You'll feel them soon, Papa," she offered.

"Can you feel their peace?" Odo asked. He had felt Veta's peace a great deal when he'd been in Lwaxana's womb. He yearned to feel the peace that the twins would project when they were big enough.

"Normally," she said. "Oh—they're a little stirred up right now. The sweet little dears."

"They didn't like the Durakians being unkind to their mother," Odo said.

"They were very proud of their papa, though," Lwaxana said. "How big and strong he was—protecting them from the Durakians like that."

Odo felt warmed. She was being sincere, and he reaped the emotional benefits of her praise.

"Drink your cider before it's cold," he said. "They'll enjoy it."

She smiled and nodded her head gently to say that she would obey him—he was fully aware that any show of submissiveness from Lwaxana was a choice on her part, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I'm ready to see Veta," she said with something of a wistful sigh.

Odo laughed to himself.

"You've been away from him for what? Little more than two hours. Mr. Homn will probably still be playing with him in the nursery."

"Two hours is a long time," Lwaxana said, taking a few large swallows from the cooled cider. "He might've—grown another tooth by now or learned a new word. He could be walking by the time we get across the ship to the nursery."

Odo recognized that there was both truth and teasing to what Lwaxana was saying. She was good at her job—especially the one that few people knew she had. She was an excellent wife. She was a doting mother.

Odo would have argued that she was as close to perfection as anyone might come, and he was thankful that she was his imzadi.

"Come, Beloved," he offered. "I'm sure that Veta can help you give your report and, in the meantime, I'll make arrangements with the Federation for transportation to the Enterprise."

"You do spoil me," Lwaxana said with a smile. She drank one last swallow from the cider and left the cup for the barkeep to clean up when he got around to cleaning anything.

"Promise me, Lwaxana, that you won't sign up to be bait anymore," Odo said, wrapping an arm around her and leading her out of the lounge.

"Oh—you sweet Changeling," she said. "You know I can't promise that. Duty calls. Besides—don't you just enjoy a bit of adventure?"

Odo laughed to himself.

"Obviously, I must," he said. "I married you."

"And do you regret it?" She asked, a hint of scolding or, perhaps, hurt slipping into her tone.

"Not in the least," he said quickly.