"Died. Probably of boredom; nothing has happened at Efros since Ra-ghoratreii's funeral. You'll also notice there are no ships on that list," La Forge continued, growing more and more animated. "Hayes wants to make sure he keeps me nice and secure in one spot. He might as well 'a.s.sign' me to Jaros II if he wants to punish me for defying him."

"I do not believe it reasonable to ascribe personal motivations to Admiral Hayes's actions," Data said, in what he calculated would be a soothing tone.

"It's personal to me, Data!" La Forge shouted, loud enough to make Data flinch. "I've been in Starfleet for fifteen years, and Hayes is using two incidents to make his case. How many times in those same fifteen years has my VISOR been used to save the ship or pull off a mission?"

Data attempted to determine an accurate quantification, though he quickly realized that every contribution La Forge had ever made to any mission could be construed in such a way, since the VISOR was integral to his performance of his duties. He then thought to include these instances in his calculations, with the caveat that such contributions would not have been significantly impacted if Geordi had ocular implants, as Hayes wished, rather than a VISOR. He dismissed that idea, understanding that answering the question in such a way would be counterproductive to his friend's mood. After a humanly imperceptible pause, he said simply, "A number significantly greater than two."

"d.a.m.ned right! Hayes has no right to treat me like this. No right."

Data hesitated before pointing out, "He is a superior officer..."

"I don't care if he's commander-in-chief! It's wrong, Data. Don't you see? It's wrong!"

But Data did not see. He believed La Forge was now calling into question either Hayes's morality or ethics in pressuring him to replace his VISOR with ocular implants. Data wanted to find merit in that argument, as it would provide his friend legitimate grounds to protest the admiral's orders. But he could not. La Forge's opposition to Hayes's orders was not based on morality or legality, but on...

On emotion.

Data realized he could not fully understand Geordi's emotions because he was not experiencing them himself. At the moment, he was primarily feeling sadness at the thought of his closest and most valued friend leaving the ship. He also felt sympathy for him in his unhappiness. But he didn't share La Forge's anger over his perceived victimization.

And so, recalling Troi's advice, Data began to search his own memories for a.n.a.logous situations. He felt fresh, uncomfortable emotions swelling within him as he recalled first being activated aboard the U.S.S. Tripoli, and the way the chief engineer laughed as he switched the newly discovered android off and on like a child's toy.

...and his time in command of the Sutherland, dealing with the arrogant, distrustful, and insubordinate Lieutenant Commander Hobson as his executive officer...

...his first meeting with Will Riker, who'd automatically a.s.sumed a "machine" could not have legitimately earned a Starfleet commission...

...Admiral Haftel denying him his status as a parent and ordering him to relinquish custody of Lal...

...Dr. Pulaski openly sn.i.g.g.e.ring at him and his efforts to become more human...

...Bruce Maddox sneeringly denying his sentience and his freedoms...

"You cannot let him do it," Data heard himself blurt. "You cannot go along with it."

"But what can I do?" La Forge asked.

Data answered La Forge with a smile. How he had missed the parallels, he did not know. But they were plain to him now, and seeing his friend's face begin to brighten in reaction to his smile, Data knew he had the answer to La Forge's situation. "You must resign your commission."

It was the perfect solution. It would save La Forge from giving in to Hayes's dictates, while at the same time addressing the admiral's concerns about the VISOR and the potential risk it posed. And, unlike the situation Data had faced seven years earlier, it could not be argued that Geordi La Forge was property and could be forced to submit against his will.

"Leave Starfleet? Data...I don't know..." Geordi said, shaking his head slowly. "I've spent almost half my life in Starfleet. It's all I've ever wanted to do."

"So much so, you would be willing to give up your VISOR? Or to become chief of operations of Efros Station?" Data reached out to place his hands on La Forge's shoulders and looked earnestly into his visual sensory prosthesis. "Geordi, you must stand up for your right to choose. This will allow you your choice, as well as serving as a strong statement about Starfleet Command's affront to the rights of those who serve under them."

Data was uncertain from where the pa.s.sion behind his exhortations emanated, but he saw they were having an effect on La Forge. He was nodding slowly, and the muscles around his temples tightened as they normally did when he was giving a matter serious thought. "You may be right, Data."

"You understand, Geordi," Data said, as another unantic.i.p.ated emotion sparked his thoughts, "in making this suggestion, I am not implying that I want you to leave."

La Forge actually smiled at that, for the first time since the start of their conversation. "I get that, Data. I wouldn't want to leave, either. But, like you say, it's something I have to seriously consider."

The engineer fell into deep thought, and Data excused himself to let his friend weigh his decision in private. As he walked out of engineering and headed for the turbolift, he considered that the feeling of pride and self-satisfaction he'd come to expect after providing help to another person was in this instance curiously absent.

"I haven't had much chance to talk to him since Hayes handed down his dictate," said the image of Will Riker on the small screen. "But he's not taking it well."

"I wouldn't imagine he would," Troi said, sitting at the desk in her childhood bedroom. After finishing their uncomfortable morning meal, her mother had ensconced herself in her small study downstairs to make some calls to her friends within the Betazed government, letting them know that she had returned home and was ready to resume the duties (and the perks) of amba.s.sadorship. So, Deanna decided to make some calls of her own and check in with the Enterprise. Little had she expected there would be such an eventful report waiting for her.

"Well, rumor has it, during beta shift, he threatened to put Lieutenant Porter through a bulkhead."

"I suspect that's an exaggeration," the counselor said. Geordi La Forge was arguably the most even-tempered officer aboard the Enterprise. Even through his darkest personal trials, such as in the days following the disappearance and presumed death of his mother, Troi had always been taken by how well La Forge was able to control his anger and grief.

"I'm sure it is," Riker said. "But the fact that a story like that could gain any traction at all, there's likely a kernel of truth in there."

Troi nodded and thought, I should be there for him. She hadn't been on Betazed twenty-four hours yet, and already she was looking for excuses to leave her mother on her own again. Never mind that she wasn't being of any actual help here. Nor, as Lwaxana had made clear, did she even expect any help from her daughter. But Deanna had to ask herself if her impulse to get back to the Enterprise as soon as she could didn't in fact prove her mother right....

"Deanna?"

Troi started, realizing that Riker must have been trying to get her wandering attention back for a while. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked how your mother was."

Troi shrugged. "She's Mother. Handling it all with her usual aplomb."

"That bad, huh?"

"What?"

A sliver of a grin flashed from underneath Will's mustache. "When all you can say about your mother is 'she's Mother,' that means you're upset with her, but don't want to say anything."

Troi raised an eyebrow at Riker. "Who's the psychologist here?"

"Sorry." Riker put up both hands in surrender. "You don't want to say anything, you don't have to."

d.a.m.n him. She did want to talk about it. She did want to share these uncomfortable and conflicting feelings with this man she had once called imzadi. But not now. Not while the person who had provoked those feeling was still in the same house, mere meters-As Deanna turned her thoughts toward her mother, she empathically felt an abrupt emotional shift. The aplomb was gone, as something had triggered near panic instead. "I have to go, Will," she said, standing up from her seat and blanking her screen before Riker even had a chance to look surprised.

As Deanna hurried downstairs, her Betazoid senses picked up someone walking purposefully toward the front door. Before he even had the chance to knock, she understood the reason for her mother's sudden concern: Deycen had returned, and from the degree of confident arrogance he projected, it was not to apologize for his earlier behavior.

In the foyer, her mother held up a hand to her valet, indicating that she wanted him to keep the Tavnian waiting on the front step for slightly longer than necessary while she collected herself. Deanna stopped on the last step of the staircase, maintaining a slight distance as Deycen knocked a second time, waited, debated how long to wait before knocking a third, hesitated, then raised his fist again before Homn finally pulled the door open.

Deycen flinched slightly as he found himself facing the giant servant again, but quickly steeled himself and called, "Lwaxana!" as he tried to peer into the house.

"Deycen!" Lwaxana burbled as if she hadn't a care in the world. "I take it you've talked to Jeyal?"

"Yes, I did. And you misled me."

"I did no such thing! Jeyal did tell you that I had remarried," she said, a statement rather than a question.

"Yes, he did. But, you didn't tell me that your so-called marriage was to a Changeling!"

"I didn't say my new husband wasn't a Changeling, either," Lwaxana countered with a theatric shrug. "What has that to do with anything?"

"Changelings are deceivers by nature. They hide in plain sight, revealing themselves only to carry out their perfidy. A marriage to a Changeling cannot be accepted as legitimate."

"Pfft," Lwaxana answered. "Jeyal was at the wedding. He knew full well Odo was a Changeling, and he accepted the legitimacy of our marriage."

"Jeyal's judgment was impaired," the Tavnian said, as if handing down a judicial decree. "There is no other way to explain how he could allow a Tavnian child to be raised by a dangerous alien."

"Well, you needn't worry about that," Lwaxana told him. "Odo isn't going to raise the boy; I am."

Deycen gaped at her, appalled. "No...no, this will not stand!"

"Yes, well, I'm afraid you have no say in the matter one way or the other. So, while it was very nice seeing you again, Deycen..." Lwaxana said as she tried to lead the amba.s.sador back out her door again.

Deycen, however, made no move to leave. "We are talking about an innocent child. Aren't you the slightest bit concerned about his well-being? About what would become of him if he were left in your care?"

Even though Lwaxana managed to hold her tongue, Deanna nearly blacked out from her mother's telepathic reaction: deep-seated feelings of self-doubt, self-hatred, misery, and pain, all of which pounded against Deanna's mind like a tsunami against a clay levee. Deanna blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes and looked to her mother. To anyone else, Lwaxana's dark eyes would have communicated only indignity at Deycen's questioning, along with determination and pride. Deanna, though, saw the overwhelming pain that threatened to break the strongest woman she had ever known.

Deanna took that pain unto herself, combined it with her own sorrow for the sister she had never known, and the fear of never having the chance to know her baby brother. Then she redirected all that negative emotion back toward Amba.s.sador Deycen. "Who do you think you are to suggest this woman is not concerned about the welfare of her child?" she demanded of him. "You're not the father, you're not the husband..."

"But I am the representative of the Tavnian government on this planet. This child is Tavnian- "

"Half Tavnian."

"- as is his father. The child therefore must be raised as a Tavnian."

Troi set her jaw as she stared hard into the taller man's eyes. "You can't pa.s.s an authoritarian judgment like that."

"And you're Starfleet," Deycen answered. "You're obligated by your oath to respect Tavnian culture and Tavnian law."

Troi tried to think of an appropriate retort for that, but found she had none. Technically, yes, she was obligated to- "UUUUNNNRRRGGHH!!!"

This time, Deanna was rocked not only by the primal, unformed emotions from Lwaxana, but by its vocal component, which sounded like the cry of a mortally wounded le-matya. When she was able to focus again, she saw her mother half-collapsed in Mr. Homn's arms. "Mother!" Troi cried as she rushed to her side, helping her find her feet again. "What's wrong?"

Lwaxana regained her balance and put both hands protectively over her stomach. "Nothing, Little One," she panted, "Just- Don't say anything.

"- help me upstairs, will you? Mr. Homn, please entertain our guest."

As asked, Deanna said nothing as she pulled her mother's right arm over her shoulders, put her own left arm around her back, and guided her slowly up the stairs. Deycen fumed, but put up little resistance as Homn herded him into the living room. Though he was out of earshot, Deanna asked her mother telepathically, Is it the baby?

Yes. He's coming now. Oh, G.o.ds...

It's going to be all right, Mother. I'll call Dr. Byxthar, and...

Promise me, Little One...

What?

Promise me it will be all right. This is your brother, Deanna. Once he's born, it'll be that much easier for Deycen to just scoop him up and whisk him away. Swear to me you'll remember, above all else, that he's your family, your blood.

They reached the landing just then, and both stopped as Lwaxana caught her breath. Deanna took that opportunity to release her hold and move around so that she could look directly into her mother's wide black eyes. In a voice that, despite its whisper softness carried all the determination in her being, Deanna Troi told her mother, "I swear it."

And, for what felt like the first time in her life, Deanna sensed from her mother her complete and unreserved trust and respect.

Strangely, Deanna realized, as she guided Lwaxana the rest of the way to the bedroom, the feeling was not as gratifying as she might have expected it to be.

CHAPTER 5.

"Geordi!" Edward La Forge's face lit up like a small sun on the small desktop monitor. "This is a surprise."

"Hi, Dad," Geordi answered, forcing a smile of his own. "How are you?"

"Doing good, really good. Aralsee II has turned out to be the kind of biological treasure trove that b.u.t.terfly catchers like me usually only dream about!"

"That's great, Dad," Geordi said, his smile growing more genuine. His father had been hit hard by the loss of his wife years earlier. Even though he'd seemed to accept the disappearance of her ship, the Hera, much better than Geordi had himself, he'd mourned for a much longer time. He spent a year's extended leave on Earth after the memorial, before finally accepting a new shipboard a.s.signment, as head of the xen.o.biology department of the U.S.S. Zee-Magnees. But now that he was back to exploring strange new worlds and indulging once again in his vocational pa.s.sion, he seemed far happier than he had for a long while.

"So, how are you, Geordi?" his father asked.

Geordi watched his father's smile fade as he hesitated, no doubt reacting to his own sobering expression. "Dad...I'm thinking about leaving Starfleet."

The elder La Forge stared at him for a moment, before a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "This is some sort of prank. Your sister put you up to this, didn't she?"

"No. Believe me, I wish I was joking."

"Son, you can't be serious," Edward said as his smile faded away. "What would make you even consider something like that?"

Geordi drew a long deep breath, and then launched into a narrative of all that had happened since their arrival at Starbase 19. He was a bit surprised at how dispa.s.sionate he sounded as he explained the admiral's orders, and his thought processes in coming to his decision.

His father listened dispa.s.sionately as well, holding his tongue until Geordi finished his monologue and then prompted him by asking, "What do you think, Dad?"

"I think," his father said, fixing him with a knowing look, "that if you really thought leaving Starfleet was your best option, you wouldn't have to ask me what I think."

He was not far from wrong, of course, but Geordi said nothing. After a further moment's silence, his father asked, "What would you do if you left Starfleet?"

"There are plenty of non-Starfleet ships out there-independent contractors, university research vessels-I'm sure they'd jump at the chance to have a chief engineer of my experience."

"I'm sure they would..." the older man said, speaking in a slow, measured pace. "Except, your entire Starfleet record will be following you wherever you go-and that'll include the reason you left. Even if you resigned of your own volition, anyone who looks will see the last thing in your file is that the admiralty considered you a potential security threat."

Geordi felt his heart sink. It hadn't occurred to him before now, but his father was absolutely right. Even the Maquis, with their disdain for Starfleet, would probably think twice before trusting someone with that kind of mark against them.

"Then, maybe I'll do something else," Geordi said. "Buy my own ship. Or maybe retire to Risa, finally start that novel I've been thinking about writing. I don't know. But I can't give in to Hayes on this, Dad. You know I can't."

Edward La Forge nodded. "I do know that, Geordi. Giving in isn't in your nature. Do you remember Dr. Mubi?"

The name sounded familiar, but it took Geordi a moment to place it: "Altair IV."