Glossary VI:
Xeuf (zoo-v):
an inhospitable planet with temperamental weather, compromised mostly of desert and bogs/marshes used primarily as a refueling station or criminal hideout
Piezite (pie-zite): Piezite,
1. a civilization situated on the edge of the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants, well-known for their xenophobia. Despite this, they operate an extensive trade network well into both quadrants, interacting with people of all kinds firmly for their personal benefit.
2. The Federation first encountered the Piezites in the form of a slave ship, collecting Ferengi creditors. Several shrewd Ferengi had sold the debts to Piezite traders in their area and the Piezites, in turn, collected the debtors as indentured servants, set to work off their debts on whatever colony the Piezites needed them on. They have recently begun expanding into the Federation black market.
3. They brand their indentured servants and slaves with their planetary emblem: two, four-winged Piezite birds of prey meant to serve as their two homeworlds and four stars meant to represent the four governors of the empire.
Kinji (kin-gee): Ankarian,
one of two ancient clans that inhabit the planet of Shankar, predominately the western continents
Fygo (fi-go): Ankarian
one of two ancient clans that inhabit the planet of Shankar, predominately the eastern continents
Ankon (ann-con): Ankarian
the capital city of Fygo and the subject of an attack by the United Kinji Army which involved the destruction of three Federation starships
United Kinji Army (U.K.A.): Kinji
a radical militant force focused on re-eradicating the theta-nu gene from the planet of Shankar; a xenophobic militant organization based on an ancient Ankarian cult that originally eradicated the theta-nu gene from Shankar
Theatras (th-ee-ah-trus): Betazoid
literally meaning second father; step-father; foster-father
Theatry (th-ee-ah-tre): Betazoid
an affectionate term for a step-father or foster-father, derived from the word theatras
Chapter Seven
"Good Intentions, But Ill-Made Plans, Pt 2"
Day 7 Stranded in the Unmapped Gamma Quadrant
Federation Starship
NCC-1701-D
U.S.S. Enterprise
Galaxy Class
Each day seemed more exhausting then the next on this Enterprise. No matter how hard Thad tried, the carpet, the noise, the very air assaulted him from every corner of the ship. Not even his bed was safe because no matter how exhausted he was at the end of the day - whether he'd spent his hours grueling over the bane or crawling through Jeffries tubes replacing conductors and conduits, nothing effectively lulled him into the sweet nothingness of sleep. Initially, he thought it might be because the beds were too soft or his belly too full. He saw his siblings toss and turn throughout the night and wondered if they just didn't have it within themselves to relax.
But, even when tea and supplement couldn't hold Thad's eyes shut, he always had one last secret weapon to try -
The lake.
It didn't have a name. At least, not that they knew of. For years, the Reygas just called it "the lake". There really was no point in naming it since it only stuck around for roughly half a Xeufian year and the family, being the only ones who knew about it, were fine with leaving the lake nameless. Its size and depth fluctuated depending on the rainfall and brief snow patterns, it's shores were made of clay and filled with reeds, and it didn't have any life to fish for other than the pesky insects which flew about and the large birds which settled in the middle of the lake for days at a time.
Oh, but the lake was Thad's favorite place. Especially at night. When the lake would begin to appear, it seemed as if the entire color of Xeuf changed to the Reygas. It wasn't just that the ground went from hard and brown to green and red, or that the very horizon seemed to change, the setting suns making the lake shine turquoises and aquamarines into the sky. The lake brought life and hope to the small part of the galaxy where the family resided. They were friends with the animals that followed the water into the lake, healing the wounded and taking care of the young. That was how they'd found Hercules - upon the lake's third visit, the Reygas had all gone down for a picnic only to find a small, dirty bundle of black who'd stopped barking at the birds only long enough to realize that Lee was holding out a piece of bread.
At night, though, the lake was all Thad's. Everything was different, from the direction of the wind to the vibrancy of the ecosystem's colors. He used to lay on the dock Lee had built for them for hours and gaze up at the stars or watch the lightning bugs dance on the surface of the water. There was nothing more perfect to the boy, nothing so blissful. More than a mile away from the homestead and even further from town, there was no noise other than what the lake provided, no nightmares or thoughts or triggers to be had. Just him, the long, white birds who slept in the reeds, the lightning bugs, traveling animals, and, occasionally, Hercules.
Thad spent so many nights on the lake dock, Lee always set up a hammock at the beginning of the season for the boy. Laying there, suspended in air and gently rocking with the cool winds, Thad named the constellations and, though never quite knowing how far away he was, would imagine that two of the brightest stars in the sky were Earth and Betazed. Those stars, the centers of their constellations, were named Will and Deanna.
As the ancients had on his parents' homeworlds, Thad created stories for the constellations, painting fantastical pictures of a Xeufian past where giants had roamed and the precious metals rumored to be at the bottom of the sea were loot from the giants' mighty conquests. Sometimes, the stories played out over weeks in his head while other times, he would relay chapters of the giants' history to the birds and insects. There was one time Thad caught a mare and her fowl sitting across the lake, staring at him, as if listening and understanding his tall tale.
When he was having trouble, it was always the lake that brought Thad a semblance of peace. Whether he could be there with it or imagining the sound of its lapping waters while he lay beneath his bedroom window, it always helped...him...drift off…
Into...
...a steady
...easy
...sleep
Tonight, however, Thad rolled over -
And fell into the water.
His heart skipped a beat as he dropped into the lake. Even though he knew he wasn't supposed to, he immediately tried to breathe but the air caught agonizingly in his throat. When he tried to kick himself to the surface, to the small sliver of moon that he could see twirl above him, he felt like he was wearing all his clothes and boots. The water wouldn't move for him, wouldn't help him. No matter how hard he kicked and clawed, the moon wouldn't get any closer.
But all he had to do was sit up.
The ladder.
He'd fallen off the ladder.
It was in the catacombs of Ankon, their hiding spot while the siege raged above them on the streets. He hadn't known where he was leading his sisters to other than out of immediate danger. And that was his job - in the middle of a crisis, to take care of his sisters and make sure they were safe. In the process, though, they'd picked up several others with the same idea. Simon being one of them.
Thad had fallen off the old ladder trying to get out when he realized he couldn't hear any noise above. It'd been wood, though - old and damp, having been abandoned for an untold number of centuries - he'd fallen right back into the stream they'd been dredging through for what seemed like days at the time.
"Kestra?" He called when he stood, looking first upstream and then down. "Simon?"
He turned back to the ladder, maybe to see if he could still climb it when something grabbed him by the shirt.
"Look what you've done! The damage you caused! You ungrateful brat!" Lee slapped Thad across the face and the boy was helpless to stop him, paralyzed with confusion and fear.
"I-I didn't- it was an accident," Thad insisted with the voice of a ten-year-old boy until Lee had pressed him against the wall of skulls, breaking one with the back of Thad's head.
"Accident, accident! Nothing's ever your fault, is it, Mosiv? You're too smart for anything to ever be your fault!"
Thad had only managed to grab at Lee's shoulder when the man used that name. That horrible disgusting name. Within an instant, that man with the beard who Thad had looked up to for so long even when he'd had to start looking down at him - he was exchanged with an even shorter woman wearing heavy white robes that stunk in the heat. She had a crooked nose, fierce green eyes that glowed in the dark, and long nails.
Thad could just hear her tapping them against her desk.
Again,
And again,
And again.
"Please. It wasn't my fault. Please don't it. Please, Sister Saysay." It was still dark, even though the sun shone outside, and the walls of the catacombs had been replaced with the shelves of the library at the Corjon School for the Orphaned and Unwanted.
Sister Saysay slapped Thad again and he began to shake. He shrunk to the floor, closing his eyes and covering his ears, but her voice still broke through, echoing throughout the mansion as it had to so many times before. "Please, please, please,"
"Don't do it? Don't do what, Mosiv?
"You're not blind! You're not dead!
"Here you are, so high and mighty!
"And you couldn't even protect your own family!"
"STOP IT!"
"They burned! Carmen burned!
"Your mother,
"Your father,
"Lee - BURNED!"
"Hey. Hey. It's all right. It's all right." Someone cooed, pulling Thad up from the floor and pressing him into their warm chest. "It's just a nightmare. It's just a nightmare. Shh, shh, shh,"
"But it was so real," Thad sobbed, clutching his father's blue pajamas. "You were gone! You didn't come back…"
"I'm not going anywhere, buddy," Will asserted, kissing the top of his son's head, petting the damp hair away from his forehead, and gently rocking Thad back and forth. "I'm right here. I'll always be right here."
Over his father's shoulder, Thad could see Deanna standing in the doorway of his room, concerned but touched by the father-son pair. Something gripped his heart tightly at the sight of her, choking the air inside his throat. "I'm sorry, Mama," Thad blubbered. "I didn't mean- I didn't mean-"
The light ring at the top of the ceiling suddenly erupted with red light. The alarm blared and the speakers cried, "RED ALERT! RED ALERT! ALL HANDS! ALL HANDS!"
Without a word of comfort or reassurance, Will and Deanna rushed off to their posts, seizing the only brief moment of security Thad had felt in months.
"Wait! No! Don't go! You can't go!" Thad rushed after them, barefoot and groggy, slow to reach his parents, to grab them and hold on. "You can't go! You won't come back! Daddy! Mama! Please! You can't go!"
Thad slammed his hand on the control panel for the front door of their cabin. It chirped, but did not open, so Thad slammed his hand down, again and again, pounding on the paneling with all his strength. At some point, his fists found the door itself.
"COME BACK! PLEASE COME BACK!
"MOM!
"DAD!"
After what seemed like forever, the doors finally threw open, almost menacingly, because what was on the other side immediately made Thad lunge backward and trip until he was crawling away - hand-over-hand endlessly - scraping his palms and heels on the carpet.
A fire had erupted outside of the cabin, the long white flames lapping hungrily at the walls, the floor, and now wrapping their spiked, forked tongues around the edges of the cabin doors, edging their way into what memory remained of Thad's last home with his parents. Worst of all, though, a large man stood in the middle of the tongues, blackened by the smoke which curled like a demon's breath on the ceiling. He stepped forward out of the fire with a heavy thunk, his mechanical limps glowing with tortuous heat. But he was unaffected, barely bothered by the catastrophe that surrounded them.
"Hiya, laddie," He grinned, pulling his sword from its scabbard with a long cu-shinng! that was intensified by the flames surrounding them. "Nice of ya ta stop by."
"NO!" Thad screamed, reaching out for the first thing within reach, but whatever it was slipped away, leaving in his hand something brittle but slimy.
When he looked down, his found his hand full of someone else's skin. What he'd grabbed had been the arm of a burned body.
He scrambled away again, but there were bodies everywhere. Ankon was full of bodies - burned, crushed, shot or stabbed. The river was red with blood, the mighty skyscrapers broken and bent from the debris of Starfleet's fallen starbase, Jersey. Smoke rose into the air, turning the word gray, and ash fell to the floor like disaster's tears.
And in the middle of it all was the pyre.
His pyre.
"Lee!" He heard Carmen scream.
And he woke up in a cold sweat.
Thad's eyes flashed open, his mind finally escaping from the nightmare. Within a second, he flung himself forward, pushing away the sheets to check his legs, his arms, his torso and face for all their skin and all their bones. Air wouldn't enter exit or enter his chest - it sat stuck at the bottom of his throat until he broke out crying with a strangled gasp.
Tens years of panic and pain were riled up in his chest and he couldn't get any of it out. He thought he had, with Lee, and then again when they'd ventured out on their own, but no...it was still there. Still sitting there on top of his heart, making every beat a struggle, every quick moment dizzying…
Why couldn't it all just go away?
Why couldn't he forget them?
"Deep breaths," A small voice whispered.
Thad jumped at the sound, pulling his hands away from his face to see where it'd come from. He found a big pair of black eyes glittering in the dark from the light of the stars outside his window. Carmen was kneeling beside his bed, keeping her hands to herself until he gave permission to be touched. She didn't like to be touched after her nightmares and so always extended the courtesy to her siblings.
The older brother listened to his little sister and took two deep, shaking breaths to steady his heart. But all it did was remind him how tired he was, how heavy his limbs were, how badly his ribs hurt.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Thad shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself.
"Would you like something to drink? Water, or maybe some tea?"
Thad shook his head again, wiping his face with the inside of his shirt. "I have- I have to get outta here."
Without another word, he launched out of bed, picked up the pants and boots laid out on the sitting chair, and left.
Medical Log
Dr. Beverley Crusher, Chief of Medicine
Stardate: Unknown
Data Entry, sub-section "Homeopathic Remedies":
Planet: Xeuf (New)
Culture: Xeufian (New)
Region: Planetwide, unknown (New)
Plants:
- Zopi (no picture)
- Suncion (no picture)
- Namre (no picture)
- Stro (no picture)
- Patterberry (no picture)
- Manmon (no picture)
Other:
- Marquin (oil)
Homeopathic Recipe:
For earaches (Xeufian): mix zopi, namre, and suncion in marquin; heart then apply two-to-four droplets into the ailing ear
For headache (Xeufian): a tea. Steep stro, patterberry, and manmon in hot water for five minutes then drink. Also good before sleep.
Audio Entry: I just had an interesting conversation with Carmen Reyga, one of the survivors of the shuttle wreckage on the moon now called Hercules, after Carmen's dog. Independently, she diagnosed an ear infection and migraine for herself and it was only when she couldn't generate her own homeopathic ingredients with the replicator that she came to the medical bay. I confirmed her diagnosis (Note: Carmen's migraine has nothing to do with her ocular transplants as of now. Four days in and looking fine.) and proceeded with treatment and while I did, we had a wonderful discussion of homeopathic treatments ranging for everything between viral infections, stress, and bodily injuries.
Carmen, a fourteen-year-old, is an expert in Xeufian medicine as far as I can tell. She is not unlike a crone or witch or midwife that could've been found in Europe during the Middle Ages of Earth. When we fell into a discussion about her transplants, she followed the medicine easily (with only a few translations/explanations) and was eager to learn more. Before she left, I gave her some of my most recent journals for review.
But Carmen isn't only fascinating due to her medical knowledge or survival story - she and her siblings are fascinating as a concept. Alternate timelines or parallel universes are not a new concept to modern science (consider our incident with Rasmussen or one out of any dozen Starfleet missions from the 23rd century, such as the Bounty's 2286 mission or Dr. Gabrielle Burnham's newly released research), but the idea that in these such timelines or universes, their are identical (biologically speaking) versions of ourselves. It's amazing to think about.
Yet, it's also hard for others. In passing, Carmen mentioned her foster father, Lemuel "Lee" Reyga, she called him. The look of despair was not unlike what I've seen on Commander Troi's face in the past. That is, there is a strong resemblance between the two.
But Carmen is the child of a dead Deanna.
And...the child that my Deanna may never have.
I can't imagine what I'd do if I came across Jack in this universe… I gave up on what-ifs a long time ago, just like I know she did…
I don't even want to think about it.
Personal Log
Worf, Son of Mogh, Lieutenant, Chief of Security, U.S.S. Enterprise
Stardate: Unknown
Entry 1: The Enterprise has been stranded for nearly a week in an uncharted section of the Gamma Quadrant…in what is believed to be an alternate universe, or chronology, from our own. I wouldn't believe it myself if it weren't the Piezite freemen we retrieved from a downed escape pod. As someone who was…surprised by the appearance of a child, I am sympathetic to what Counselor Troi and Commander Riker are going through. I do believe that their presence on the ship has hindered our repair efforts, however. While I have personally seen their contributions to Lieutenant Commander La Forge's strategy, I would be remiss to think that they have not distracted Commander Riker from the task at hand.
That being said, the extensive damage caused to the Enterprise by the black hole and (proposed) corresponding ion storm has crippled us for the foreseeable future, despite the Engineering Department's round-the-clock efforts, and as such, I've received permission from Captain Picard to resume my Mok'bara classes, as a way of bringing back some normalcy to the crew.
I am eager to continue the classes, as I believe they will help considerably in preparing for any potential threat that we might face while stuck in the Gamma Quadrant. The Reygas have insisted that they were freed from Piezites by their foster-father, Lee Reyga, but even if they were, it is a very real possibility that we might encounter the traders. As far as the Federation is concerned, the Piezites are known for their fierce possessiveness, antagonistic policies, and utter domination of their prey. Their combativeness I do not mind - it is their unmitigated disregard for life that bothers me. They kill carelessly, impetuously, without honor or reason. I refused to allow my ship to become…rusty in their defensive abilities because if we meet the Piezites, there will be no question of them boarding the Enterprise.
The people from who the Reygas escaped, however, I am eager to meet. These people do not use phasers, but rather fight blade to blade, like in the days of old. The blond girl, Kestra, explained that most of the societies in this section of the galaxy don't have the resources to maintain such firearms and thus rely on swords or hand-to-hand combat, as the freemen have been trained in. From her alone, I had to confiscate three combat knives, one push dagger, a hand of throwing knives, a long clip, a pen clip, and a scimitar. Her brothers and sister had similar compliments, though the other girl's cane could be used as a taser and one of the boys had a style I had not seen before, something which he designated a "Xeufian falchion".
I suspect they have more, but I have yet to find them.
Entry 2: I should speak with Counselor Troi and see if she's all right with everything that's going on.
Or perhaps I'll send Alexander.
With all hands needed to assist Engineering in rebuilding the ship, the shuttle bay was nearly completely empty all the time. Occasionally a security guard passed through on their rounds, just to make sure that everything was kosher, but none had thus far run into Kestra and her tinkering.
The first time she'd found herself in shuttle bay, Kestra had been convinced that there was almost too much room on the Enterprise. The section of the ship entirely devoted to moving people in and out via yachts or shuttlecraft was so huge, if you stood on one end, you could see another person all the way across from you, but they would look more like an ant than an actual crewmate. And the same went if you stood on any of the above tiers! But after Kestra returned to the waifs' cabin that afternoon, only to find Carmen playing catch with Hercules (and, quite frankly, doing a worse job of recapturing the ball than the dog), while blasting her orchestra music, Kestra concluded that the Enterprise had exactly the perfect amount of space, specifically because she could sequester herself in the shuttle bay and be on the opposite end of the ship from her increasingly chaotic sister.
Kestra wasn't a very big fan of chaos. She liked things orderly and fairly predictable, and she prided herself on usually being able to see a few steps ahead of everyone else. Finding order among the chaos that had generally been her way of saving herself, her sanity, a way of stopping herself from becoming a useless ball of tangled anxiety. When everything was orderly and predictable, but she could still feel that ball of anxiety yarn beginning to knot in her chest, that was when Kestra generally turned to her work.
Mechanics was an orderly puzzle that Kestra appreciated for the simple fact that it drew her mind away from everything else. It wasn't just something she was good at because she happened to be - it was her hobby, something she genuinely enjoyed. She enjoyed the process of planning out an entire project, from design to final test and implementation, of seeing a puzzle that she'd constructed in her head become real in her hands through a collection of knobs, wires, and wheels.
With the anxiety yarn slowly creeping its way to her mind from her chest, Kestra was positive that the only reason she hadn't been assigned to the mental ward yet was because of her work with Commander La Forge and in the shuttle bay.
Simon came with her on occasion, looking for his own silence. The shuttle bay was, in fact, the furthest one could get from most of the ship, and therefore the quietest telepathically. He used the silence to read the Betazed therapy guides and information texts Counselor Troi had given him: The Telepathic Teen: How Not to Embarrass Your Crush with Your Thoughts, Growing Into Telepathy, The Care & Keeping of Your Mind, and, Simon's personal favorite, Just Because You Hear Voices Doesn't Mean You Have to Be Crazy.
They were instructions on the different methods of meditation and shielding that adolescent Betazoids were taught to help them deal with the onset of their telepathic abilities. They were all ways of handling the noise, of keeping yourself quiet and attentive during class or meetings, of how not to be distracted by someone else's wayward thoughts or overwhelmed by the complexity of animals' minds. The guides were mostly for people Carmen's age and were constructed much like children's books, for easy understanding and processing, but Simon didn't care and appreciated Kestra's help when he needed it.
Perfectly horrified by what it must be like to date as a teenager on Betazed, Simon put aside The Telepathic Teen and watched Kestra tinker for a moment, her mind a perfect reflection of what she saw before her and nothing else. It was only when her mind became a little sluggish and she rubbed her eye with the back of her hand that he scowled.
"Did you sleep down here again?"
"Do you see any pillows or blankets?" Kestra answered curtly without looking up.
Simon sat cross-legged on top of a pile of chests across from Kestra's working table. He leaned forward a little, carefully not to tip himself further than he could pull himself back. "You should ask Dr. Crusher for that sedative she gave Carmen. If you and Thad go any longer without sleeping, you'll turn into Mis Kordinks."
Kestra smiled at the mention of the crazy lady who'd walk her invisible cat around Conqourd Valley. "Thad's the one who needs the sedative. I'm choosing not to sleep."
"Well, that makes it sooo much better. And you need to tell him that. He's starting to look like hell."
"He's not going to sleep as long as we're here. You saw his nightmare last night." Kestra paused to consider her brother's behavior, but she shook her head as the memory of Lee's pyre started to creep up on her. "I'm actually surprised he hasn't come up with another plan to get us outta here quicker."
"He's too tired. Not that he gets to make that choice. Letting Picard take us to the edge of Federation space is our best bet at this point." Simon pointed out.
Kestra went back to work. "That's why I'm down here."
"How did you even get these down here anyway?" Simon jumped gracefully off his tower to look over Kestra's repairs and improvements.
"They were already down here. In the pod. No one bothered to take them out. I mean, they don't look like much closed. They're supposed to be-"
"Compact," Simon finished.
"Yeah, and everyone's busy just trying to fix the ship. No one went snooping. Which is a shame really."
Simon chuckled, picking up one of the ones Kestra wasn't working on. He straddled it, grabbed the handles accordingly to prevent any misfirings (as had happened before), and then kicked the starter beside the pedals. The instrument roared to life, filling Simon with memories of summers in Conqourd.
The smile on his face was ear to ear and contagious. "Do you think there's enough room down here for a little Quidditch?"
"Not with Carmen's hand-eye coordination."
The doors of Troi's office suit were generally closed, to offer privacy for her patients but also doors were made to close and doors to offices are generally used for that purpose. That being said, something seemed to have gone wrong with whatever electrical section Engineering was experimenting with today because her doors hadn't closed for the last half an hour, remaining half-open/half-closed after the last the patient had left.
Troi didn't much care; her appointments were done for the afternoon and she kind of liked seeing the occasional person walk by while she wrote up her case notes. Some peeked their heads in and said hi; a few who were currently working for Engineering asked to reschedule their session until they had a free shift; but most walked by without even noticing, so wound up in their own thoughts they didn't even notice the gap in the doorway.
She didn't hear the ball being bounced up and down the corridor. Even as it neared, it blended in with the general bumps and screeches that'd accompanied their dilemmas. It wasn't until the red ball actually rolled its way into her office that Troi lifted her head up from her computer. She watched as its momentum slowly died away until it gently bounced off the foot of the settee. Without much thought, Troi blinked, as if waiting for the ball to do something else, before following its path back to the doorway.
Troi blinked again - it was only a split second, but that second was a memory. It was her standing in the doorway and her mother at her desk in their home on Betazed. An earthquake had scattered papers across the floor and unhinged part of the door Troi stood beside.
"I'm sorry to bother you." Carmen offered, breaking the image behind Troi's eyes. "I was just…"
"Testing the wall integrity?" Troi stood, picking up the ball and tossing it back to Carmen, letting a sense of reassurance toss with it.
The girl's awkward smile eased it a bit, but only because she bit her lip. "I got bored." She admitted with a shrug. "Dr. Crusher said I'm supposed to practice my hand-eye coordination with this thing, but I could only stand hitting just one piece of wall for so long."
The two chuckled, though it was perhaps more of an echo.
"Well, again, I'm sorry to bother you. I'll let you get back to work."
"It's no bother. I was just writing some notes. Were you going anywhere in particular?"
Carmen rolled the ball between her hands, assessing the situation. Troi wasn't desperate for attention, but she was a bit starved for conversation and happy to take whatever she could get, even if it was with Carmen, who spurred a muddle of emotions deep in Troi's chest. If Carmen hadn't been an empath, Troi's polite smile would have fooled her, but it didn't matter. A small wave of glee had passed through Carmen - Thad was frequently starved for conversation too. He loved being alone to do his own work, sequestering himself to consume book, journal, and article alike, but he could only ever go for so long. As introverted as he seemed, he thrived on human contact - just as Troi was doing right now.
"Not really. Just roaming. But, since I'm here - thank you for the books you gave us. They were certainly interesting. Eye-opening in some areas…" She scowled, still stunned by how detailed that day-dreaming incident got. "And- and also quite explanatory. Clarifying." She searched for more words that meant she'd read the texts and appreciated the advice they had, but only felt herself rambling on.
"You're welcome,"
Is wasn't quite the conversation Troi had been pining for (she really hadn't talked to anyone in days except in sessions or to offer updates on ship's business) but she had been trained to never leave a conversation until she was excused from it. The practice was something her mother had taught her, one of Lwaxanna's many (disguised) lessons in diplomacy that had proved a great tool for Troi both in her counseling and Starfleet duties.
Carmen realized this (it was something Thad and Kestra did too), but was happy to give Troi what conversation she could. Besides, it also offered Carmen the opportunity to test a few theories she had. She didn't have the same problems around Riker or Troi that her brother and sister did, so she was emotionally capable of experimenting with the counselor as long as time allowed.
"I noticed- I noticed that some of the books cited you. Your works. You must be quite a doctor if so many pieces are referencing you."
Troi's polite smile brightened a little bit. "You read the bibliography?"
"I was looking for reading material. And there's no better way to become familiar with a subject than reading what all the experts did." Carmen laughed. She didn't mention that she was also re-learning how to read, but Troi caught that hint of embarrassment, especially since it stalled the exchange.
"I don't know if I'm that big of a deal-" Troi started, diverting the subject.
"But you've written a lot? Enough to be cited at least three times in at least of the pieces you gave us." Carmen returned, cutting Troi's natural modesty and bashfulness off at the knees. The girl wasn't interested in circumventing truths - she never had been. Blunt though it may seem, it saved a lot of time and small talk.
"I suppose." Troi gave Carmen a good look, pushing past their similarities to see the girl for who she really was. It helped dampen a Troi's discomfort and nearly all together removed the idea of the Reygas from her mind. She searched Carmen as she would a an ambassador, a delegate, anyone new who encountered the Enterprise, just as she should've been doing from the beginning.
Carmen was looking for something. She was genuinely curious too - naturally so, Troi would bet - but there was something underlining that curiosity: purpose. And it had nothing to do with what might've been and learning about someone she'd lost. Carmen was looking for resources, something to draw upon later.
The girl was trying to interrogate her.
It surprised Troi a little. It also generated an amount of respect for Carmen.
The counselor's analysis of the waif took no more than a few seconds. "I write a lot about what we see out here. The kinds of incidents the Enterprise encounters. From a psychological point."
"Trauma and such,"
"Some of its trauma, yes, but it has more to do with our encounters with new planets, about how our psychology compares to theirs. I've written about diplomatic policy, from a Terran standpoint, a Betazoid standpoint, and then just that of a Starfleet officer. About other species' mental abilities and disabilities. There's more to things in life than just trauma." Troi pointed out sensibly.
"That's all anyone here seems to want to talk about," Carmen said, not annoyed or bored, but candidly.
"Do you not think you need to?"
"There's certainly things we could talk about, yes." Carmen looked at the barren walls, wondering why someone who was referenced so much in journals and books didn't have awards, commendations, and diplomas to display. "But I think we talked them out well enough with Theatry, and I also think that if we'd never boarded this ship, things wouldn't be as bad as they are." She turned back to Troi, black eyes on black eyes. "We are each more than the moments which broke us the most."
Troi considered the wise words and how much this Lee Reyga must've helped Carmen grow into the young woman she was today.
The counselor shrugged, conceding a little. "People are fascinated with drama. It is the basis for some of the greatest stories every told. And a lot drama can be found in-"
"Trauma," Carmen nodded, disappointed in reality.
Troi smiled sympathetically. "There's a reason they rhyme."
Carmen made a thing about pinching her thumb and index finger close together. "Only a little."
They chuckled together, the interrogation over.
"Are there…Are there a lot of empaths on Betazed?" Carmen asked after a moment, a self-consciousness Troi hadn't recognized in her appearing like an undershirt peeking out of a jacket sleeve.
Troi wasn't quite sure what answer it was that Carmen was looking for, but she provided the truth either way. "No. There's more than there used to be, with interspecies marriage, but not all DNA unions are capable of reproducing, and most Betazoids aren't inclined to...connect with non-telepaths."
Carmen snickered at her tact.
"We were mostly myth for a long time, to be honest, and a lot of that fantasy still prevails. A small alteration in the DNA would produce an empath maybe once in a generation prior to inter-species unions. It's what I write about most - being an empath. There's still not a lot known about us."
"Figures,"
A buzzing sound erupted between them, making Carmen jump. Her ball went flying as she hurried to stop the vibrating medical cuff on her wrist. "Mother of-" She cursed, tapping furiously at the cuff until it ceased its antics. Carmen took a deep breath once it did.
"Excuse me. I didn't mean- I have an appointment with Dr. Crusher." She sighed. "I'm not quite used to all this bright and shiny technology. I was lucky if my analog clock kept an alarm."
That polite smile of Troi's was back up, though perhaps not as forced as when she returned Carmen's red ball. "You're fine. You should go. Beverley doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Carmen nodded and turned to leave, but at the door she paused, looking back over at Troi. "Thank you, Counselor. I appreciated the conversation."
"I did as well."
The girl flashed her a charming smile and then rushed down the hall the way she came.
Before Troi made it to her seat, she heard Carmen curse again following a loud thunk. The counselor flinched, but also couldn't help but smile.
And yet, as time passed and traffic past her doors dwindled, the energy and satisfaction the conversation with Carmen had generated began to drain, leaving Troi hollow and lonely again, unable to talk to anyone without dredging up her own problems.
The captain's ready room was dark except for the faint golden light of the distant star which gave life to the moon where the escape shuttle had downed. It was an essential part of the Enterprise's energy conservation that no unnecessary aspects of the ship be used while it underwent repairs. This meant that on auxiliary power:
- school was conducted through independent study in the children's family cabins wherein they had to accomplish a list of assignments (small scale in comparison to what they usually accomplished) provided by their teachers who visited each individual student once a day to provide tutorship.
- the replicator could provide only a limited amount of meal options (though it was still a considerable amount by Carmen's count) as well as beverages and snacks so that replicators could produce the most amount of food for as long as possible with limited power.
- if the holodecks hadn't already been inoperable, they would be shut down.
- only essential labs were allowed to continue their typical routine so that all available computer power could be reserved for the bridge and the engineering department and nothing would obstruct the two divisions from either conducting their essential roles or responding to an emergency.
It also meant that all non-critical places were supplied with minimal illumination, which left Picard in the dark if he wanted to occupy his ready room rather than lurk around the bridge. He didn't much mind, especially once he remembered how to lower the brightness on his computer screen. And when Data stepped in to offer a progress report on the condition of the warp core, it bothered the android none.
"Very good. Thank you, Data," The captain said once that report had been given before turning back to his desktop. The report was nothing new and therefore nothing more than a bi-daily briefing. As they'd discussed in their morning senior staff meeting, the necessary rewiring needed to restore the sensors and weapon controls was due to be completed throughout the day, along with relatively minor things here and there that could be accomplished over the next seventy-two hours. The only problem they were facing was as it had been for the last week - mending the main computer core, for the ship could do nothing without it. Piece by piece they were repairing what systems they could, but none of it would matter if the computer wasn't function. They might be able to pilot the Enterprise, even make it to warp with a trick here and there - they just wouldn't know where they were going. Significant progress had been made (especially with some of Kestra's input, La Forge admitted), but there was still a lot to be done.
Data accepted his tablet back when Picard handed it to him but did not move to leave. Instead, he leaned a little bit forward. "May I ask what you're reading, Captain?" Whatever it was had to be either very engaging or very important to grasp the captain's attention so thoroughly, Data concluded.
"It's the official Starfleet report on the Battle of the Corjon. Are you familiar with the incident?"
"Indeed. It was the final battle of the Ankarian Civil War in which Federation, Fygozian, and Kinji forces stormed the U.K.A.'s last stronghold. The primary organizers of the Siege of Ankon were arrested there and consequentially brought to trial. I believe Ambassador Troi attended the tribunals on behalf of all telepaths and empaths affected by the U.K.A."
"She did. I remember Deanna telling me about it. She equated the event to the Nuremberg Trials of 1945 and '46, following the Second World War."
Data blinked, his initial question answered but not altogether satisfied. The Battle of Corjon was an altogether cut and dry affair as opposed to the more complicated land and star battles that had both followed and preceded the Siege of Ankon. "Why exactly that battle, sir?"
Picard leaned back with a deep breath and tugged on his uniform. "The Corjon Boarding School for the Orphaned and Unwanted was the home of the U.K.A.'s indoctrination program. The Federation children who were kidnapped during the Siege were held there. It's where our guests would have been kept, in their own version of events. The Corjon was also where the U.K.A. studied how to eradicate the theta-nu gene."
A realization struck Data as his positronic links reviewed what information was accessible about the Ankarian tribunals and the Corjon Boarding School for the Orphaned and Unwanted. His head tilted as connections were made. "Miss Carmen came aboard blind - it was common for U.K.A. scientists to try to eliminate obvious physical characteristics of telepathic and empathic children when they failed to halt the theta-nu gene's operations. She has black eyes, like the majority of Betazoids, which means that she was most likely blinded by the scientists' efforts to change the color of her irises."
Picard nodded. "And that was a fairly tame method of assimilation and indoctrination by contrast. The Battle of Corjorn was more than just an assault to finish the U.K.A., it was also a rescue mission. Undertaken by dozens of family members - Kinji, Fygozian, and Federation - who were trying to recover their children. But the horrors of the Corjon, for both child and soldier alike... The Reygas have spent more of their lives in hell than they have in peace." He shut off his computer, unable to read any more on the subject.
Data sat down, not quite finished with his line of questioning. "Captain...do Commander Riker and Counselor Troi find the Reygas being onboard...difficult?"
"Why do you ask?" Picard replied, interested in the android's perception of events just as much as Data was interested in the captain's.
"I have noticed that Counselor Troi has been unusually quiet since Dr. Crusher's determination that Thaddeus, Kestra, and Carmen are biologically related to her and Commander Riker. Generally, when she receives upsetting news or is under a substantial amount of stress, she will get a chocolate sundae at Ten Forward. She has not done this since the Reygas have been aboard, despite what would seem to be a considerable amount of stress given our current situation. Additionally, I have observed that Commander Riker finds it uncomfortable to speak with all four of the Reygas, as well as being unusually short-tempered and distracted as compared to similar situations that we have been in before."
Picard raised an eyebrow at the officer's astute observations. He was by no means an expert in the human condition but he was always learning and always taking into account every aspect of his fellow crew members in order to continue his education on humanity. These details were equivalent to what the rest of his senior staff (excluding Troi and Riker) had noticed up until then and were issues that Picard was still trying to appropriately address.
"Data...you remember Lal, correct?"
"Of course. She was my daughter."
"She was... Now, what would you think or do if you were to encounter Lal, alive and well, in another universe?"
"I would be intrigued," Data said absolutely. "But neither Commander Riker nor Counselor Troi is intrigued by the existence of the children."
"They are. In their own way." Picard tried to explain. "You have to understand, Data, that the sudden appearance of children... It rarely contains the same excitement or joy that comes with a birth. When children - one's own, biological children - suddenly appear, it...can change people's perspectives. Rather than having nine months - or longer - to prepare for the arrival of a baby, a person is suddenly confronted with an extraordinary amount of considerations, in regard to the past, the present, and the future.
"Will and Deanna...are intrigued - their innate curiosities can't help but be so. But the...existence of these children poses a considerable amount of questions about how things might've gone differently. If you were to encounter Lal, here, in this alternative universe, you would be intrigued, as you say, but you already know what it's like to be a parent. You know the exact course of events that led up to her creation and despite the possible differences between our Lal and this universe's Lal, you would know what to expect. Will and Deanna don't have that kind of experience. They don't know what to expect. Of the children or of each other."
Data considered Picard's words carefully. If he understood correctly, the primary issue that the commander and counselor were experiencing was their emotions and the intricacies of said emotions. And they were emotions too complex, Data imagined, for him to grasp quickly enough to be of significant benefit to his friends.
In the interim, Picard stood from his desk, a bit rattled by his own excess of emotions. "I'm going to take a walk around the lower decks. Would you care to join me, Data?"
"Thank you, sir, but I should be getting back to Engineering." Data stood as well and prepared to follow Picard out of the ready room. "Captain...what could I do to help?"
Picard smiled, knowing full well that the second officer wasn't referring to their ship. "Be gentle with them, Data. Be gentle."
Several hours into his codebreaking, Thad decided to take a break. He found a replicator and made himself an apple and a glass of water before he began to wander around the hallways, comparing this Enterprise to the one he remembered from his childhood. There was certainly an astounding amount of people going hither and nither, but there was a vibrancy that was lacking. Thad supposed it might have something to do with half the starship not working, but then again, it might've also been the dazzling filter that childhood sometimes affixes to memories. Either way, this Enterprise was certainly falling short in Thad's eyes.
Then again, maybe he wanted it to.
He poked his head into the library and a few of the laboratories. Most people paid him no particular attention, not even when he chewed speculatively at the animals in the exozoology lab. Eventually, working primarily on supposition more than memory, Thad made his way down to the cetacean pool on the lowest deck of the saucer. He was happy to see that there was no one else in the observation dome and for a moment - just a moment - he felt like someone else.
He felt like the little boy he'd once been.
The cetacean pool wasn't always occupied, but there was the occasional dolphin, shark, or whale. Sometimes all three, or a clan of one or the other. The tank was a special characteristic of the Enterprise dynasty, having something to do with one of the original starship's old missions, Thad remembered. It was also one of the quietest places to be on the entire ship, but that had never been why Thad liked the dark room so much. It made him feel like he was in the sea along with the creatures, these special types of mammals that he'd always loved so much.
From a young age, Thad had always identified with the cetaceans he found in the pool. They swam and swam, from one place to another, sometimes in tanks and sometimes in oceans. They never really stopped and they were never really home. Just like it had been for him, floating from the Hood to the Enterprise to the Aries, to Betazed, Shankar, then Pilike, and Xeuf. He'd never really had a home, except the one he'd finally made with Lee.
But he'd had to leave that one too.
Thad rested his forehead on the glass, biting his cheeks to keep from crying.
The last time he'd visited the Enterprise's cetacean pool, he'd been about five and they'd been transporting a school of Bajoran hookfish that had been smuggled off-planet by Cardassians. By that time, the Bajorans had no resources for them to be safely returned, so the Enterprise had been tasked with taking the hookfishes to the Ankarian Aquarium of Rare and Exotic Life on Shankar, as well as check-in on starport Jersey's construction - an ironic twist of fate, Thad now considered.
"That one's Commander La Forge, that one's Nurse Emily, that one's Captain Picard, that's Dad, and this one - this one's Admiral Vanguard," Thad explained to his mother excitedly, pointing to each hookfish.
Personally, Deanna couldn't tell the difference between any of them. Of course, some were bigger than others but they were still all covered with hideous scales and they each had thick, bone-like hooks (from which they got their name) on the tops and bottom of their bodies. Still, she had to raise an eyebrow. "Why is that one Admiral Vanguard?"
Five-year-old Thad was undisturbed by his mother's ignorance. "It has that same kind of ugly mustache that the admiral has in our textbooks."
Deanna laughed out loud, pulled Thad into her chest, and kissed the top of his brown hair. "You're incredible. Mm," She kissed his cheek and looked into the depths of the pool along with her son. "Have you said your goodbyes?"
Thad nodded solemnly. "They're finally gonna get a home."
The yearning her son often felt when someone spoke of their homeworld did not go unnoticed by Deanna. She held him tighter, trying to banish the feeling. "We'll see them again."
"I know. I told them, but they didn't really care. Only Lieutenant Worf's upset about leaving. He likes that there's nothing else here to bug him."
Their family of four (soon to be five) had left for a command on the Aries soon after that. It was his father's first post as captain and Thad could remember his parents often being anxious about their new roles. There had been no cetacean pool on the Aries, but Thad didn't mind for long. He was soon busy trying to speak "baby", learning how to communicate with Carmen using raspberries and puckering sounds. When that didn't work, he tried to teach her baby sign language and was undeterred in his mission no matter how one-sided their conversations got.
The next time he would see the Bajoran hookfishes again would be the last time he saw his parents.
His parents.
Once his eyes cleared, he took a deep breath and retreated from the dome, unwilling to face any more memories that he'd spent so long burying away. Eyes red and swollen, he immediately proceeded to run into Captain Picard.
Picard stopped short just in time to keep from running into the young man. "Thaddeus," He said, both as a greeting and a question. His eyebrow raised skeptically once he'd noticed where Thad had exited from. A part of him wanted to admonish the young man, to tell him that he couldn't just wander into any part of the ship as he pleased, even if it was currently allowing him. However, another part of Picard wanted to treat him diligently, as there was no telling what exactly Thad - enslaved as a boy - considered appropriate. Either way, Picard was very interested to see how Thad reacted. Would it be like something like Riker, or more like Troi? Would Picard recognize anything familiar about the reaction or would it generate suspicion?
Because even though Thad looked like Will didn't necessarily make him any less of a threat. Picard would consider Riker a great threat to the safety of the Enterprise if he wasn't its first officer. And the captain knew all too well how ripping someone away from all they knew could twist them into something dark and sinister.
"Good afternoon, Captain. Come down to see the sharks?" The young man answered pleasantly, casually deflecting any misstep he may have taken with his natural charm.
"They're dolphins, actually. From Dalvos Prime."
Thad's face contorted with bewilderment. "Then those are some wicked teeth."
Picard chuckled, efficiently deflected. "I was just doing a walkthrough of the area, making sure everything was up to snuff."
"Isn't that usually an X.O.'s job, sir?"
"Usually, yes, but I like to personally see to it that things are as they should be. May I ask what you're doing down here? You're very far from your quarters."
"I...guess you could say I was kinda doing the same thing." Thad took a deep breath, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand. "Though, to be honest, I was just bored. I'm...not used to sitting around on my hands."
"I imagine not. Why don't you walk with me? I've meant to speak with you and your siblings, but-"
"Kinda threw a wrench in that plan, didn't we?" Thad smiled, falling into step beside the captain.
"Yes, but take heart in the fact that this isn't the strangest situation the Enterprise has ever been in. We'll do what we can for you."
"I remember learning about Captain Kirk in school. Bringing back whales from the twentieth century, meeting gods… The Enterprise certainly has a reputation for the strange." Thad replied, avoiding Picard's assurances.
"And that was just Kirk. We've had our fair share of strange encounters ourselves. We had a holodeck program become self-aware, stuck in more than one time-loop, met the devil… One time the ship was taken over by ghosts…" Picard considered further. He couldn't say what Thad's definition of "strange" was and, for the most part, Picard couldn't say what he considered strange either. After so long in space, what sounded strange to a civilian was just another entry into the log. "We've had several viral outbreaks. Not necessarily aboard Enterprise, but they have had a variety of symptoms."
Thad snickered. "Like that time you were all drunk."
Picard paused. "Excuse me?"
"Our first year on the Enterprise," Thad explained, forgetting himself for a moment. "I believe it was a virus...something brought back by the away team from another ship. It made everyone seem intoxicated."
"Yes, that's right. You...were on...your Enterprise?"
Thad nodded. "Not for long and, to be honest, I'd forgotten most of our time, but when I saw Dr. Crusher the other day in sickbay… Everything came flooding back, I guess. It would seem I have a very good memory."
Picard watched how straight Thad stood, from lumbar to neck, almost as stiffly as Data. As soon as they'd begun walking, his hands had withdrawn from his pockets and clasped together in front of him. His shoulders sagged a little, like the dark bags beneath his eyes, yet he held his head up, and Picard realized, upon noticing his watch and the medical-monitoring cuff Crusher had attached to Thad's wrist that the boy was walking as if he were shackled about the wrists and neck. Picard had seen pictures of Piezite slaves, the chains they carried while being transported, and he considered how long Thad had had to wear them for him to stand like so, even now.
"How are your sisters?"
"All right, I think. Kestra's been working with Commander La Forge a fair amount - much more than the rest of us, anyway, but as long as she's working, she doesn't worry much. And I don't think I need to worry much about Carmen, at least in this case. She doesn't remember much from before." Thad managed to laugh. "What we really have to worry about is her depth perception now that she's got her sight back. She's been throwing things around and climbing everything. Gods help whoever happens to be within five meters of her."
"And Simon?"
Thad was pleasantly surprised that the captain had remembered his brother's name. "He's probably in the worst position, having to deal with the three of us. He's full Betazoid, too, so he's stuck catching our thoughts here and there when we don't keep quiet. But he doesn't complain much, so I'll have to keep an eye on him. What do you think's worse, Captain? Seeing your dead parents or knowing that they're dead?"
Day 9 Stranded in the Unmapped Gamma Quadrant
Deanna avoided him for as long as she could, but there were only so many places to hide on a ship (even one of 1701-D's size) and there was only so long she could avoid her routine while the ship was managing a crisis. On top of counseling the waifs (as much as they would allow her), more people had come to speak with her as well in order to deal with their fears and concerns. The general population did not know the ship was currently drifting in an alternate universe and Picard planned to keep it that way given La Forge and Data's continual success with fixing the Enterprise. However, many people had begun to suspect that something was wrong beyond just the ship's problems, especially as the waifs began to interact more and more with the Enterprise community - which meant that certain things couldn't help but be noticed.
Like how Kestra and Carmen, despite the difference in their hair and eye color, looked extraordinarily alike.
And how, in turn, they looked like the ship's counselor.
Will had been insistent that they talk about their-children-not-their-children since the bomb was initially dropped - because it's not necessarily something that should be left undiscussed, even if no one knew exactly what to say - but Deanna had been reluctant to do so. It needed to be spoken about, she knew, as well as a dozen other things that involved ship's business that they usually worked on together. But, at the current moment, it was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do.
Until, eventually, he cornered her.
She decided, though, when he stepped into her office unannounced, that she would give him no credit, whatsoever, in managing to contain her. It was her office after all and he was supposed to be on duty somewhere other than her office.
Will let the recently fixed doors close behind him without a word as she continued to work at her computer. He looked at her, but she refused to look at him. After a moment he sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs. "You've been avoiding me."
"Noticed, did you?"
That. That right there - that fierce and painful, sarcastically defensive tone used in response to Will's innocent statement - was what she'd really been avoiding for a week. She hadn't wanted to respond like that, to use that tone, but she couldn't help it. Because talking about them...talking about them meant dredging up things - expectations, emotions, and acceptances - that she'd buried a long time ago. They were things that had passed between them, unspoken since they'd become co-workers, but they were things that had never been verbally acknowledged.
To do so...that was the painful part that Deanna had wished to avoid.
Her bite made Will flinch. He'd always figured he knew why she was ducking out of Ten Forward when he walked in or avoiding eye contact with him at meetings with the senior staff. He knew. And to admit his own failures was something that he also would've liked to avoid. But he wouldn't avoid them. They were only ever a few decks away and he wanted so badly to help them.
"We need to talk about this," He pushed through his discomfort. "We can't just act like they're the kinds of nomads we've picked up in the past."
"Why not? They don't want to be around us. Will...their pain...it's tremendous. The only ones who will speak with me are Simon and Carmen. That poor boy's just trying to help Thaddeus and Kestra through their pain and Carmen was so young - she doesn't even remember enough of her life before Shankar to be able to mourn. She looks at us and feels nothing but recognition. Kestra…" Deanna paused in part because of the unfamiliar use of a long-held family name and because of the weight of the girl's emotions. "She's a strong and confident young woman anywhere else on the ship, but the slightest glance of us and she reverts to the scared, tortured little girl that the Siege left behind."
Deanna shook her head. "If they can't stand to be around us, then we need to avoid them. It's for the best. And if we avoid them, we don't have to talk about them."
Will looked at her, pained and sympathetic. "I may not be able to feel their pain," He said softly, leaning forward. "But I can see it. And I can see yours, imzadi."
Deanna looked up from her computer only to glare at the wall ahead and clench her teeth. "Don't,"
Will lowered his head with a sigh. "They weren't allowed to mourn, Deanna. We can help them do that. We can help them...come out of this with some semblance of good mental health. You're the one who always says that bottling things up only ever eats you from the inside out. You're not setting a very good example." He tried to tease.
She rolled her eyes.
The first officer straightened a bit, realizing that perhaps the only way to break the walls Deanna had built around herself was to attack them. "You've barely spoken to anyone since they came on board. People have started talking about your new approach to therapy - tough love and battery. Data doesn't understand any of what's going on and so he keeps asking what he can do to help." He waited a second. "You're acting like your mother."
Deanna finally swung her head around to submit him to a deadly glare. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen victim to this sort of look, albeit rare, but it had always been in the middle of a fight when he'd already committed to battle. Otherwise, the look was enough to set anyone back ten paces. "I strongly doubt my mother has ever had to confront the children she might've had."
She sagged a little then, at having begun to admit - out loud - the problem that was eating at her. They'd both known it the entire time, but to finally say it was different.
It made her shake her head, swallowing down the rising tightness in her throat. "The children we might've had."
Deanna stood up, brushing her hands over the sides of her head and turning her back on Will so he couldn't see her eyes water. "If you'd just come back… Can you understand, Will, that looking at them...it's the possibility of everything we could've had? Everything we lost?"
Will swallowed hard. Leaving Deanna alone on Risa wasn't one of his finer moments, and he'd always felt bad about the way their romantic relationship - so passionate and breathtakingly intimate - had slowly extinguished. He did not regret the path he'd chosen - he loved his job and what he'd been able to do because of his choice to pursue a competitive career in Starfleet - but he did regret the way he'd treated Deanna in order to do so. And there had been the very rare occasion when Will considered what might've been, how things might've gone if he had met her on Risa - perhaps they'd have both still been stationed to the Enterprise and would've still been able to explore the galaxy, more together than ever. Perhaps they might've had to spend some time apart, being stationed in separate places, light years away together, and maybe that was how they drifted apart.
But even on those rare occasions when he second-guessed his decision, it was even rarer that he allowed himself to consider anything beyond just Deanna and himself. Because they had spoken of children on Betazed. Not just marriage, but a family too. Together, they had imagined what it would've been like to spend summers in Alaska, falls in San Francisco, and winters on Betazed with little ones they chased after, hugged, and kissed, whose hair they brushed, and lives they were devoted to.
Will had never been afraid of becoming a father, even despite his own childhood and how he'd felt about his own dad.
But he had been afraid to say goodbye to Deanna. His inability to do so...that's what had kept him from Risa.
In another place, another time, that fear of letting go to one of the best things that had ever happened to him...it had created three beautiful children.
Did that make him a coward?
Or was he stronger for having been able to tear himself away from Deanna?
Was his unspoken wish to have done things right by her the reason he was so much more willing to accept them, so much more eager to help them and see them healthy and happy? Was he making up for hurting Deanna by trying to help them?
"I know,"
Deanna crossed her arms, tears pouring now and lip trembling. "I don't want… This isn't even a fraction of what they feel, but I don't know if I can… I accepted that we were over a long time ago, Will, I just… I don't know."
"You don't have to." Will stood up and slowly stepped towards her. "I- I don't know how they make me feel, either. I know that...they remind me of how much I hurt you, that doing that...will always be something that I regret. And...they're not mine...but I know exactly what it's like to have someone retreat into themselves because they can't deal with their pain. My father… I promised myself a long time ago that no matter what happened, I would never be that type of father. I would never...hide from my kids. And if this is the one chance that I get to be a father, then I'm going to keep that promise."
He hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his cheek against the side of her head. He knew she was crying and did not want to embarrass her by turning her around and hugging her that way. He only wanted to offer his support, his love. Because they might not have been lovers anymore, but they were best friends and they knew each other better than anyone else ever would.
"I want you to keep that promise, too, Deanna, because you've never hidden from anything in your life. You do things head-on, you tell the truth even when it hurts...and you help people heal. These kids...they need you. Not as a mother - but as a counselor. A friend. We...can't replace what they lost. But it's our job to help people, and if we can't manage to help them…?" He shrugged slightly and she leaned herself further into him, relishing the comfort of their heads pressed together. She was still crying, but talking about it all had lessened the burden, just as she knew it would.
"I'm not saying it'll be easy."
"I know," She answered quietly, reaching behind her to cradle the back of his head.
Will tightened his hold on her slightly.
United Federation of Planets
Starfleet Command
File: CLASSIFIED
The Observance and Recognition of Multiversal Theory
The theory of a multiverse - the idea that our current universe, the parts of which the Federation has both explored and not explored, is one of many universes in the cosmos, and that these other universes, or "alternate universes", "parallel universes", "quantum realities", "alternate dimensions", "alternate realities", "dimensional planes", etc., possibly hold within them the alternate version of ourselves, our histories, perhaps divergent in certain areas due to different circumstances or perhaps a direct copy of our universe - has been around since the dawn of science across Federation civilizations…
…Multiversal travel is not to be confused with time travel, or time jumping (G. Burnham, 2235) though there was one instance (UFP Starfleet Records: NCC-1764 U.S.S. Defiant (2256, 2155)) where a time jumping occurred alongside multiversal travel…
…On Earth, the theory of the multiverse was originally considered a part of Atomism, which purposed that the multiverse began with the Big Bang, during the original collision of atoms. In 1952, Erwin Schrödinger purposed the superposition of universes, stating that the multiverse was not a series of "alternate" universes, each one divergent from the other in different ways, but rather mere copies of one another, prompting the idea of duality rather than distinction. This line of thinking would mean that each of the possibly-proposed universes were identical to one another, the way that identical twins are - built from the same DNA and therefore destined to grow and expand the same way in similar environments (Stamets & Straal, 2253).
That being said, the few recorded instances of multiversal encounters would seem to suggest otherwise. While there has only been recorded encounters with one (1x) positively identified "alternate reality", it has to be classified as just that - a different reality from our own. Colloquially termed the "Mirror Universe", Quantum Reality (QR)-001 is classified primarily by encounters with a xenophobic, fascistic government known as the Terran Empire. Based on aforementioned encounters, the Terran Empire (established and coordinated on QR-001 Earth) is a composite of the Federation and the 20th Century German Third Reich, equipped with warp capabilities and tortured-based weapons, inhabited by individuals identical to those in our universe, Quantum Reality 000, colloquially known as the Prime Universe (M. Burnham, Stamets, et al 2258, UFP Starfleet Records: NCC-1764 U.S.S. Defiant (2256, 2155), UFP Starfleet Records: NCC-1031 U.S.S. Discovery (2257), UFP Starfleet Records: NCC-1701 U.S.S. Enterprise (2267, 2268), Kirk, Scott, et al 2269).
…Even though Starfleet's only encounters have been with the Mirror Universe, there are surely other universes that parallel ours. Considering string theory (Farop, et al, 2071), the Prime Universe could be surrounded by any number of QRs, though it would seem that the Mirror Universe is the easiest to cross over to (for our ships as well as the Imperial Starfleet (UFP Starfleet Records: NCC-1764 U.S.S. Defiant (2256, 2155)), thus why UFP Starfleet has had so many encounters with I.S.S. ships. Or, perhaps, this is because our theories of QRs are flared; string theory applies to bundles whereas a three-dimensional perception of realities would mean that various universes are stacked together like a deck of cards, and the Mirror-verse is one of the most immediate cards to ours…
The door chirped, drawing Picard's eyes away from his research. He blinked, readjusting to the darkness that blanketed him.
"Come," He called, locking his screen. Then he leaned back and tugged his coatee down. His back muscles ached in objection - he'd been leaning over his desktop now for sometime, stiff and focused on the history, theory, and physics riddled in the classified Starfleet file.
The doors opened for Troi, dressing her in that sliver of golden light streaming in through tall window. The counselor was a comforting sight, as always, but the light, after having traveled so far from it's sun, was cold on her. Or perhaps it was chilled because of her, as Troi gave off none of her usual gentle warmth. Rather, she seemed uncomfortably stoic, as stiff as her captain.
The solemn face she wore tightened the knot in Picard's back.
"May I speak with you, Captain?"
"Of course. Have a seat," Picard gestured to one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.
Troi walked further into the ready room, allowing the doors to close behind her.