Ensign Allan Sheppard sat at a lone table, heedless to the lunchtime drone of Ten Forward. His eyes, the same chestnut brown as his hair, flitted to a clock on the wall and then back to his glass. With a dejected sigh, he lifted the neon blue drink to his lips. Of average height and average build, he rarely warranted a second glance. But those who took the time to speak with the young ensign discovered a softness in his smile that belied a rare, invincible sort of kindness.
"Hey Sheppard!"
He looked up to find Haykov dragging a chair his way. The junior officer was easy to recognize, with a portly build and shockingly white-blonde hair. His eyes, a little too small and a little too close together, lent him a pugnacious countenance that seemed to repel women as effectively as his crass sense of humor.
Sheppard opened his mouth to return the greeting, but had to wait until the chair came to a stop, for it grated against the ground with a toe-curling screech of metal. Nearby patrons turned their heads with silent, disapproving scowls.
"So what are you up to?" Haykov asked, heaving himself into the chair once it had reached the table.
"I was just on my out, actually," Sheppard glumly replied.
"On your way out? But you've barely touched your icoberry soda." Haykov nodded towards the mostly full glass. "And where's Ensign Riker? I thought you guys always take your breaks together."
"She was busy, that's all." Sheppard took a new, sudden interest in his icoberry soda.
"Uh oh." Haykov pulled himself closer to the table and lowered his voice. "What's going on with you two?"
"Nothing."
"Well that's what you've been saying ever since we got back from Zinor six months ago," he scoffed. "But we all know better than that. Come on; you can tell me. We're best friends, after all."
"We are?" Sheppard eyed him dubiously.
"Sheppard…" Haykov flung a hand across his chest in a wounded fashion. "I know you're probably just lashing out, but you don't have to be so hurtful. Now come on. Is it someone else? Wait-" His eyes sparkled hopefully. "Is it me? Is it 'cause she's into me?"
Sheppard took a long, slow sip of his soda before answering. "Like I said-it's nothing. She's probably just busy." He set the drink down with an air of finality and then pushed away from the table.
But Haykov grinned, hot on his trail. "A moment ago you said she was busy. Now she's probably busy? Which is it?"
Sheppard froze. "Well, uh...I mean…" He was trapped, and he knew it. "Alright, so I don't know. But it's none of my business, okay? It's not like she has to run her plans by me or anything."
"Well if she has moved on, then some sort of notice would be nice." Haykov jumped up from the table, following at the young man's heels. "I mean, after all that we've been through together."
"Haykov, I think you're taking this a little too personally." Against his will, Sheppard felt a smile tugging his lips. For though boorish at times, Haykov often proved to be a sincere source of solidarity when it mattered.
The two made their way from the cafe, down a long and well-lit corridor, and towards the turbolift doors. "Anyways, she's probably just helping the counselor with wedding plans or something like that," Sheppard insisted.
The turbolift doors opened and someone stumbled out in a hurry. Sheppard and Haykov jumped out of the way, their eyes widening at the sight of their captain.
"Sir?" Sheppard prompted. Picard looked up, blinking at the young man as though just noticing him for the first time.
"Oh! Good evening, Mister Sheppard. Mister Haykov." A distracted smile flitted across his face.
"Is everything…?" The young man trailed off. It felt absurd to ask the captain such a question. He looked to Haykov for help, but even Haykov appeared too stunned for words.
"Oh, yes. Everything is fine. As you were, gentleman." Picard nodded politely and then continued on his way. But he hadn't made it three paces before he paused, turning slowly back around. "Actually, uh...I would appreciate it if you kept this meeting between us."
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," Sheppard said, still baffled as ever. He followed Haykov into the turbolift and then watched the captain's back as he disappeared down the length of the hall.
After the doors closed, Haykov let out an audible breath. "Well, that was weird."
"You're telling me," Sheppard concurred. "I wonder where he was going in such a hurry?"
"It looked to me like he was running from something."
The turbolift paused, having reached the next level. The doors opened and a young woman ducked inside, looking just as harried as the captain. "Deck Six," she mumbled, taking up post as close to the door as possible and trying desperately to smooth out the front of her velvety green dress.
"Carmen?" Sheppard blurted out.
She leapt back, a mortified look of shock on her face. "Sheppard! Baka, I was hoping not to run into anybody on my way. I feel ridiculous in this thing. I mean, where I am supposed to put a phaser? Or a knife-there isn't even anywhere to hide a knife!"
Sheppard flushed with color. True, there was no hiding anything in that dress. It clasped delicately over one shoulder, swooping across her humble bosom and leaving her other shoulder bare. A band of embroidered silver hugged the curve of her hips, and below that the dress flared out gently in pleated, shimmering waves.
"And where are the pockets? Mankind was supposed to have progressed. Yet here I am without pockets. YIDoghQo'..." She continued her peevish rambles in Klingon, all the while tugging here and there at her dress.
"Why uh, why are you wearing that?" Sheppard asked, trying his best not to stare.
"What?" She looked up at him. "Oh, for dinner. Deanna picked it out."
His heart sank. So it wasn't the counselor's wedding plans keeping her busy after all.
"For dinner?" Haykov brusquely repeated. He had no doubt reached the same conclusion.
Sheppard stopped him from asking more with a warning of a glance. "Well you look...you look beautiful," he said, managing a smile.
"Yeah?" She smiled back, her disdain suddenly forgotten. In front of her, the turbolift doors opened to Deck Six. She stepped across the threshold. "Hey, you should come with me," she offered, looking over her shoulder. "There's someone I want you to meet."
Sheppard started to follow, but Haykov pulled on his arm. "No thank-you," he declined.
"Why not?" Carmen frowned.
"Yeah, why not?" Sheppard yanked his arm free and glared at the other young man.
"Because we have to get back to Engineering. We can meet your...friend...another time." Haykov nodded curtly.
"I guess so…" she trailed off, puzzled by their umbrage. Just then, there was a loud exclamation from the other end of the hall. "There you are!" someone cried delightedly. Turning towards the voice, Carmen sensed a strange, new aura before she saw anyone. This newcomer leaned over her mind, pressing against her thoughts with a stifling yet benevolent presence. "Oh, let me have a look at you!"
Before she knew it, someone had taken a hold of her face for better scrutiny. Riker and Troi came to a stop several paces away, watching helplessly. Carmen's eyes flicked over to the commander in a silent plea to intervene, but he merely flashed her an apologetic smile.
It's alright, love. I won't hurt you. The woman's voice slipped into Carmen's thoughts as easily as one slips through an open door. She bore a striking similarity to Troi, but with graceful lines of age added to her visage. A garish robe seemed to glitter and swish even when she was standing still. Her hair, a rich mahogany, had been wrapped into an oversized bun and held in place with a garland as outrageously colorful as her attire.
Troi cleared her throat. "This is my mother, Ambassador Lwaxana Troi."
Lwaxana smiled lavishly, still holding Carmen's face hostage. "Daughter of the Fifth House of Betazed, Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx, and heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. And you have no idea how long I've been waiting to behold a grandchild of my very own." Troi scoffed aloud at the slight. But Lwaxana carried on with her study of Carmen, paying no mind. "Look at these big, bright eyes! They suit you well, you know. Even if they make you look like your father. And your chin...such elegance. It curves the same way as my Deanna. You remind me so much of her at this age."
Carmen beamed at the comparison. "Really?"
"Oh yes. The women of our family have always been blessed with beauty. And brains. That's a fact no matter what the universe, apparently." She patted Carmen's cheek several times. Though the young woman despised the unsolicited touch, she felt somehow honored by the attention. This woman was a stranger, and yet she looked upon her like family. "And who are these marvelous young men?" Lwaxana asked, staring past Carmen.
It wasn't until then that she remembered Sheppard and Haykov's company. "Oh! Uh...these are my friends," she said, half-turning towards them for a hasty introduction. "That's Ensign Sheppard. And that's Ensign Haykov."
"Haykov, hmm?" Lwaxana zeroed in on him. "What a...creative...mind you have."
"Mind, ma'am?" Haykov gulped.
"She's telepathic," Carmen informed him. He blanched, his face becoming a ghastly shade of white. "Oh, uh, we were just on our way to Engineering. Gotta...gotta get going," he insisted. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Troi." He ducked his head and then retreated into the safety of the turbolift, leaving Sheppard awkward and alone.
"Yes, dear boy," Lwaxana said as though in answer to a question. "I am her dinner guest for this evening. Why? You two didn't have plans already, did you?"
"What? Uh, no. No plans. I was just..I..." Sheppard's cheeks turned a rosy shade of red as he stood there, stammering for an answer that would not form.
"Ah, I see." Lwaxana waved her hand dismissively. "Well no worries, young man. This one is completely smitten with you."
Now it was Carmen's turn to blush. One hand went to her brow, where she shielded her eyes from meeting Sheppard's. And therefore, she did not see the funny little smile dancing across his face as he joined Haykov in the turbolift.
"Come along Bright Eyes." Lwaxana looped her arm through Carmen's. "I'm starving. Will-you have my luggage, don't you?"
"Yes, Ms. Troi," Riker replied without any enthusiasm.
"Call me Lwaxana, love. We were engaged once, after all. Remember?"
Carmen's eyes flew wide. "What?!"
"It's...a long story," Riker mumbled, stooping to pick up an absurdly large suitcase. "And I have a feeling it's about to be a long dinner, too."
"By the way…" Lwaxana continued, overlooking his despair. "Where is Jean Luc? Has anyone seen him?"