4
Her office chimes sounded almost exactly on time.
"Come in." Deanna said quietly. At her nod Reg sat down gingerly and winced in pain. He coughed, looked about and then at her nervously, but she took care not to outwardly appear as if she'd noticed. The counsellor poured him a large glass of water, left the brimming carafe handy and sat a careful polite distance away. Deanna made herself appear relaxed as he gulped it down, crossing her legs and waiting for what was to come next. She didn't have to wait long.
"Uh, I-I'm n-not doing very well - how the f-f-fuck can you provide me counselling, as if-if the other day hadn't -"
"Still swearing around me, Lieutenant?" Deanna asked icily. 'Definitely a slow learner…....'
"- That's what I bloody mean! I think -"
"I think we can agree that both of us have gotten way out of hand recently. Are you seriously trying to provoke me, or can we learn from these events and move on?"
Reg looked away a moment. He looked back at her, made to speak, and then thought better of it.
"Much better, Reg." She'd also looked away briefly. "Now, pay attention! We have both set our limits here, and what kind of behaviors won't be further tolerated. Contents aside, on which you've made astounding progress, by the way, your holodeck addiction still remains a serious ship performance issue!" Her voice softened. "If we can't treat it together, Captain Picard will have to." She saw he understood, at least intellectually. "I want to help you, Reg!"
Put quite simply, where she existed couldn't be described. Her surroundings, and her appearance were both fluid. Both changed continually by the microsecond and were wholly dependent on any one of her young many microsecond mood fluctuations.
Q'ute watched the action playing out in Troi's office, thought for what was to her a long time, and then made a tiny alteration in what passes for our reality. So, so…..and now, so.
She smiled cruelly and settled back to watch. This was going to be fun.
Barclay reeled out of his chair from the sudden backhand blow, felt the bleeding begin, and stared at the counsellor. She had – changed. Her entire bearing seemed suddenly charged with sadistic threats and promises. She stood before him, spinning an `oy'naQ that had come out of nowhere and smiled sunnily. Reg wondered if she'd finally lost her marbles.
"Marbles!" Her lip curled. "You'll pay for that thought, Dog!"
"B-Barclay to -" His thoughts turned gelid. Reg smiled stupidly and peacefully surrendered his com badge to the counsellor's outstretched hand. He dropped to his knees at her silent command and then writhed as deft fingers began taking a stroll through his mind. He panted: "When this reaches the Captain, I'll-"
"-watch as Picard gives me another commendation!" 'From your next Life, that is…..'
Deanna was happily immersing herself in his silent screams well before she let the 'oy'naQ caress him at full power. 'Have to hand it to the Klingons; this is almost as much fun as the agonizer…'
The room had suddenly quieted and she pouted as Break-the-Regs-Reg stopped writhing and lost consciousness for the third time. 'If men were any weaker,' she thought: 'They'd be no fun at all.'
The Terran Empire counsellor used the interval to peruse her most recent findings. 'Hmm, WTF?' She'd appeared to have done things, painful things to him before, except that she hadn't. There also seemed to be an endless sense of surprise, shock, and total bewilderment over why this was happening to him. How could he not know? Deanna began to frown. Something nagged at her as to being very wrong.
'Don't ignore your instincts for even a split second,' Lwaxana had drummed into her soundlessly from a small child. 'Ignore your instincts, and you die…...'
This particular piece of advice had saved her life a score of times, and she wasn't about to start ignoring it now.
Deanna reeled from the two sharp slaps and her face burned. She stumbled over a foot, recovered her balance, and then reeled again. Her mind was nearly drowning in a cesspool of emotions: fear, glee, and sadistic pleasure. The fear belonged to Barclay and the glee emanated from Captain Picard. It was her mother's pleasure, she realized. Surprise was in her mother's mind as well, and anger. 'What is WRONG with you, Little One?'
"Please forgive the counsellor, Captain." Lwaxana Troi said aloud. "She merely defers the duty to her mother, as is only proper."
"Quite so, Mrs. Troi." Picard lowered his hand. He stepped a safe distance away from Deanna and smiled coldly. "Now, may we continue, please."
"It's no longer a 'Mrs.', Captain. My husband is dead." She gushed. "Oh, Jean-Luc, do call me Lwaxana." She turned her attention to the cowering engineer. "Ahhh, the inestimable Lieutenant Reginald Barclay." She rubbed her hands together. Her voice slid silently into the engineer's mind. 'It's sooo nice to see you again so soon.'
Barclay clapped his hands over his ears and collapsed on the deck. His head jerked up; he met Lwaxana's eyes, promptly pulled down his pants and began frantically masturbating.
"Naughty boy," Lwaxana crooned. "Caught you, didn't we, caught you fucking a holo of my daughter in the holodeck again, and during your on-duty time at that. How many time is it now?" The faster she rubbed her hands together, the faster Barclay had to masturbate. "Answer me!"
"Who needs the Agony Booth?" Picard laughed, and Deanna somehow made herself smile as well.
'Show more enthusiasm, child, or you'll be next in line.'
Deanna was prowling about her rooms. Everything was in its place except that all her clothing was now shockingly bland. Not everything, she amended to herself. Weird Starfleet insignia on my uniforms. And WHERE are all my weapons? Speaking of which: 'Mother…..' There was no answer. She gave Barclay another sharp kick as she passed.
"Computer. Locate the venerable diplomat Lwaxana Troi." She included the honorific in case her mother was listening.
"Lwaxana Troi is not on board the Enterprise."
Now what... Deanna stood stock-still processing the inescapable conclusion that she was no longer where she belonged. She padded back to Barclay, intending to get some answers.
None were forthcoming. The dead are notoriously uncommunicative, by and large.
'Alone at last, Little One…..'
'…. And lucky Picard was feeling forgiving.' Deanna finished. 'Mother -'
"You'd better have some very good explanations for me -" She had spoken aloud, and Deanna knew that meant she was really, really pissed.
"Lwaxana –" At her look she quickly corrected herself. 'I'm sorry. Mother, look into me. Look really deep inside me.' Deanna opened her mind and wondered if she was about to die at her mother's own hands.
'Die-' Lwaxana's thought was sharp. 'Why in the universe would you think that?'' She suddenly moved closer to the counsellor. 'Oh, I see…..'
".…..We have a problem." They both said it aloud together and then laughed.
Deanna bit her lip and sulked. Normally, removing a body in the counsellor's quarters would be the oft-performed mundane duty of Security. She doubted that was the case here, wherever here really was. She put her `oy'naQ near Barclay. With luck, she could blame the death on Worf. That thought, and what she'd be able to do to the slave afterwards cheered her up.
'Oh, how bizarre.' Deanna wondered if she was in a delirious state as she reconnoitered the ship . It was just too weird that none of the crew she ran across seemed afraid of her. In fact, it was quite the opposite, with several actually daring to initiate conversations with her before she even spoke. Deanna was losing count of the number of inferior species she was encountering, many of whom her Empire had either enslaved or exterminated. None seemed enslaved here. A passing Sulamid casually knotted respectful tentacles in her direction; she fought to look noncommittal and controlled her rising gorge. No one saluted or carried any weapons and security appeared nonexistent. Deanna began feeling very exposed and returned quickly to the safety of her quarters.
She was close to doubting her chances of pinning Barclay's death on the wretched Klingon when the call came. '….and Death comes a-walking…..' She tapped her intercom and rested her gaze on the corpse to imprint Barclay's final tortured expression in her memory. "Troi here, Mr. LaForge."
"Counsellor, are you done with Reg? He's due in Engineering soon."
"It's funny you should put it that way.…." She gave a rich chuckle. "Troi out." "Sickbay, this is Troi. I have a medical situation in my quarters…..." The Betazoid wondered what the Agony Booths were like here and sank into the lotus position. 'I will survive the pain…...I will survive…'
Thoughts shielded; the venerable diplomat Lwaxana Troi paced around their equally shielded sumptuous quarters. Pacing was unusual for her: she had long since passed the time where she had allowed any indecision on her part to show outwardly. She glanced again at the young and very innocent woman engrossed in her studies with her eyes a bit wide, face a bit pale and a generous mouth now compressed tight in revulsion.
'No, that's incorrect: this "young innocent" is still my daughter, and I will protect her and her place on Enterprise and in the Empire.' She did another routine sweep of the nearby areas for any indications of danger. Various more psi-sensitive crew-members shuddered at her mental touch and worked at their tasks harder.
Deanna bit her lip, touched another control, and brought up her service record again. Name: Deanna Troi. Age — 'That's correct, at least' — Rank: Commander. Duties: Counsellor, Head of Security aboard ISS Enterprise 1701-D. Details: Succeeded to present position after the assassination of predecessor Commander Tasha Yar by unknown parties. -'I just bet'—' Actions: Pivotal in the subduction of the Golami insurrection through arrests, brilliant interrogation, and torture of its principal activists. Commendation awarded. Action: Pivotal in conquest of the B^lita through the arrests, interrogations, and torture of their primary negotiators. Commendation awarded.
Action: Pivotal in restoring discipline aboard ISS Reliant through 'Surprise, surprise,' interrogation and torture. Action: Pivotal in – 'blah blah blah' – Yet another commendation awarded. Notations: Superb counselling, a superb and merciless interrogator … indispensable rôle in maintaining and dispensing any and all required crew discipline — 'blah blah blah….' More interrogations and more torture – 'Let's see now…. oh, of course….' A few academic papers on the subject of – 'What a surprise -'
'Little One,' The elder Troi said silently. 'Concentrate! Learn your record and duties perfectly because that is who you are, now. This Empire, and this Captain neither knows nor cares a whit about anything else you might have been. And apart from an academic interest in your alternate universe, perhaps I don't either! So, study, perform your duties, and perform them well! '
Deanna straightened from the computer and met Lwaxana's look with one equally hard and challenging. "Academic interest, Mother? As in," She probed mentally. "Finding a way for the Empire to invade it, and benefiting from that yourself, you mean!"
Lwaxana shrugged and gave her daughter a mild look. "I suppose it is natural that you would feel sickened….." Her look hardened. 'It's lesson time, Daughter. Please, do feel free to make all the noise you want. No one can hear you except me.'
A soundless prod here, and now a jab over there, and squeeze – Deanna gasped for air – Hmm-hmmm, lets shred some of that grey matter…. yes! And now, we shall move over here..… hmm-hmmm…..oh, now wasn't that just deliciously ouchy … hmmm-hmmm…
Writhing, Deanna ran around the insides of her mind and began frantically shoring up her collapsing mental barriers. It was hopeless. She dropped into the viscous well like a stone and began to scream and scream.
"This will hurt a little," Her voice was flat as she finished scans and took the ordered tissue samples from the Betazoid counsellor. Dr Crusher tried hard not to look at the body in the next bed.
"Only a little?" Deanna smiled. "My, but you're slipping, Bev-Bev."
"All done." Her lips compressed. "It appears I have an autopsy to perform." She nodded to Security. "So, PISS Off!"
Deanna was amused. She said: "It appears that I know you'll take your time; I know how much you love it." The guards took her by the arms and moved. She called back: "Enjoy yourself, Bev!" She had just enough time to twist and see Dr. Crusher shoot her the finger before being hustled out. Then she thought about what lay ahead. All of her amusement vanished.
The brig was no less than she'd expected, of course. But the apparent lack of the customary Agony Booths was a surprise. And ohhh, to be guarded by a slave with the audacity to speak and treat her as an equal was just too much to bear in anyone's universe. She was painfully aware the cell's force field would protect the thing from her mental arsenal and fought for any semblance of control.
Deanna abruptly stopped her incensed frenetic pacing and glared at the Klingon outside the force barrier. "Look at me again, petaQ, and I'll kill you!"
Worf growled deep in his throat. Reminding himself Klingons thrived on hardships helped to calm him. He tried again. "Deanna -"
"Tokhe straav!" She screeched. "How dare you speak to me without me granting my permission!"
"SoH matlh!" Worf roared back. He was shaking, and his vision began to cloud with bloodlust.
Picard entered. "As you were, Lieutenant." He glanced inside the cell. Deanna was turned away and shaking badly. "You are dismissed."
"Yes, sir!" Worf hesitated. "I would say .… thank God. If I were a human, that is."
The captain smiled briefly. "Kai Kassai, Klingoni!"
Worf went out. He badly needed something to kill. No, Worf thought. Deanna had taught him there were times to fight one's own Klingon inherent overpowering rage. This had to be one of those times. He headed fast for Ten-Forward.
His upcoming decision to speak to Guinan would create lasting ripples.
Picard activated a recorder. "Before we begin, do you need anything? Food, drink, or perhaps the amenities?"
"Don't make me laugh, Captain. We both know you can't wait to get me inside a Booth!"
Picard wondered what she was talking about. He decided on sticking to the subject at hand. "You murdered one of my crew –-"
"And since when has that ever bothered you! I've killed a lot of your crew, sir, and mostly on your own orders." She sat down exhausted. 'Just where in the blazing Powers am I, anyway?'
Q'ute smirked. "You should see this!"
"Not now, not now!" Her friend's thought came back. "I've decided to engage the Borg."
"Fun!"
The climb out of the well was no less painful and exhausting than anything else she'd fast learned to expect from the venerable Lwaxana Troi. She finally crawled back into the new reality and found herself huddled sobbing in her mother's arms. Deanna drew in deep shuddering breaths. 'You are a harsh taskmistress, Mother.'
Lwaxana kissed her cheek and squeezed the young woman lightly. 'It was just about as painful for me, my strange new daughter.'
"I somehow doubt that." Deanna smiled shakily to take the sting out of her words. She eventually unwound herself from her mother, sat up and wiped her face. "I must look a mess."
"You are a mess, my dear." She paused just an instant and then bore down hard. 'And tell me, how do you feel right now, Deanna?'
'I feel fine, Mother,' Deanna paused in surprise. 'In fact, I'm feeling ready to kill a certain someone.' She smiled coldly. 'Slowwwwly.' Her 'tone' became petulant. 'Oh, all right then. You're allowed to help. But only a little bit.' She chuckled.
They left their quarters arm-in-arm and escorted by bodyguards. Everyone saluted sharply at the approach of the Betazoid pair. Deanna paused a moment to glance back. Then she said simply: "Be careful." The nearby Specialist gulped.
The lift went down and then sideways. "Now then," Lwaxana said, continuing their conversation where they'd left off. "You know the Captain had wanted an immediate execution, but I prevailed on him to confine Barclay until you were ready to carry out the previous assignment." She fingered her blade suggestively and whispered instructions on the finer nuances of mental torture into Deanna's ear all the rest of the roundabout way they'd taken to Security.
Barclay was brought in and left propped up against the wall. They dismissed their guards and ignored the monitors. Security knew all about the penalties that awaited them for daring to watch and/or record what the Trois did without their explicit permission. Or they should have.
Lwaxana suddenly looked up while they disrobed in the traditional Betazoid fashion. She touched on the intercom. "Sub-Commander Rawlings. Are you volunteering to be our hors d'ouvreus? Turn them all off, and keep them that way." She waited, concentrating, and then nodded to herself.
The younger Troi had looked up as well. "Put yourself on Report, Rawlings."
Lwaxana smiled to herself as she noticed that, like hers, Deanna's sa-gi were extended, hard and erect, and that she had begun the fvas-sweat in anticipation. 'Do me proud, Daughter.'
Deanna studied their battered prisoner with her mesmerizing eyes wide. She began slowly circling him, tsking at his some of his injuries and looking all the while oh-so demure and innocent. "Hello, Reg." She touched her fingers to his lips as he made to speak. "Shhhh, now shush, my darling. Surely you know by now not to speak without permission." She gave his testicles a quick squeeze and tilted her head back to watch his reaction. "Which I do not grant you."
The Troi duo smirked to each other and then dove headfirst deep into the warm screaming pool.
Barclay impressed them later by actually managing one scream out loud. "Oh, God! -"
"Yes, yes; they do confuse me for Her all the time." Deanna stroked Barclay's entire body one final time and gently ushered him back into the Agony Booth.
Lwaxana laughed. She decided she'd never been prouder of her daughter.
"She did what!" Guinan stared at Worf in disbelief as he helped himself to yet another glass of prune juice.
"Murdered him." Worf was disbelieving as well. He had liked the quirky engineer. He paced his next words. "Deanna Troi murdered Lt. Barclay..…with an `oy'naQ." Worf had overseen sending the body to Sickbay and knew something else had killed Barclay as well. He just wasn't sure what. "And what's more –"
"No, no, no!" She banged the table for emphasis, and everyone looked around. Hot tears were starting. "No, Deanna just wouldn't –"
"— She –- she doesn't even care that everyone knows she did the murder. Guinan! It's as if she's proud of it!" Worf broke off. His liver twisted and he clenched his jaws so tight that the pain radiated up into his head and settled behind his eyes. Then his fists slammed into the table so hard it broke in half. "Deanna has named me Tokhe straav'."
Guinan blanched and said a word. Nearby crew stopped what they were doing and left quietly. Their eyes met and never left one another as they moved over to an undamaged table. "Ghobe'!" Worf snarled. "No! Just why do you think I'm here at this moment!"
The El-Aurian touched the drink order controls and reached deep inside for calm. "You honour your line, Worf son of Mog." The bottle appeared. She'd been saving this vintage blood wine for special occasions.
"Honour?! A Klingon's honour demands that I kill her, Guinan." Worf was boiling now. He poured them two glasses, took an appreciative sip, and then gulped them both down in one go.
"And you know exactly what I meant."
chuchje baH qul vIghos. Ice, and Fire.
Guinan matched the Klingon glass for glass, and then later, bottle for bottle. Talk was followed by yet more talk. Everything gradually became blurred. They had been at it for over two hours.
"Why can't you be more forthcoming, Counsellor?" Deanna appeared skilled at evasion and hadn't made eye contact with him for most of that time.
"Lower the g'dayt force field a tad, my dear Jean-Luc, and I'll show you just how forthcoming I can be." Her eyes began dancing with wicked amusement. Picard studied her. Deanna just tilted her head and watched him back with that small, mischievous smile of hers.
"Sickbay to Captain. Jean-Luc, I need to see you right away." Dr. Crusher's voice was fraught with unspoken implications.
He touched the communicator and sighed. "On my way."
Deanna was laughing at him now. "Of course we will, Captain."
Subcommander Rawlings was thirty-two, had been in Security five years and had thought himself hard and sadistic to the bone until now. He couldn't stop staring at the transporter pad.
"If you would, Mr. Rawlings…" Deanna's smile was pitiless as she watched him sweat.
He gulped, activated his controls, and they watched Lt. Barclay's mangled body dematerialize.
"Well done, Counsellor." Picard smiled warmly. "Are you trying to make me run out of creative commendations?"
"It's not necessary, Captain; I serve the Empire." Deanna kept that same smile on her face, and all her inner repulsion carefully shielded. "But thank you anyway."
Armed guards saluted as they left the transporter room. Two separate pairs of bodyguards paced them through the ship with their hard eyes and weapons ready. Overhead security monitors and sound traps bristled everywhere. No one seemed to find that unusual except Deanna.
There was a nearby scuffle. Their guards checked the area promptly and signaled all clear. Then came the distinctive sound of an agonizer, followed by the inevitable barely choked scream. The Captain smiled wryly. "It would appear your services are already needed elsewhere."
Deanna tilted her head; a "someone is in trouble" nod of acquiescence. "Yes, Captain."