By Carol Sandford


Chapter 10


Did she answer the comm first, or the door? The last of the great dilemmas as Deanna's head turned from one to the other, knowing that either way her very young, very tenuous career at Starfleet was hanging by an even thinner thread. And so was Will's. And for what? For love. For Imzadi.

Another sharp, louder, more insistent wrap on the door quickly solved it all. Cautiously walking towards it, fearful of who lie on the other side sent rivers of trepidation through Deanna. There were times when she fervently wished that she had her all of her mother's powers, if only to have a ready response for whoever lay on the other side. Now was most definitely one of those times.

Nervously opening the door ajar and peeking around the corner, Deanna's eyes met those of two of Starfleets security guards, but Deanna's were quickly drawn to the man who stood sullenly between them. With his hands firmly tucked behind his back, but she instinctively knew that he wasn't handcuffed, it wasn't Starfleet's way, Will silently pleaded with her to keep quiet; do as she was told and say nothing. He looked scared. He had a lot at stake, more than she. A lot rode on the next hour but neither of them realized that it was more complex than that.

Swinging the door wider still, Deanna opened her mouth to protest, but Will's silent heartfelt plea, {Don't, Deanna. Don't say a word. Let me handle this.} reverberated through her mind, stilling her. Instead, she straightened her stature and said, with an air of confidence that she absolutely did not feel, her fingers gripping the door handle tight enough for her knuckles to go white, "Officers. Can I help you?"

The senior of the two, even though he kept an air of formality in his stance and voice, never-the-less managed to formulate a regretful smile as he said, "Yes, ma'am. You've been requested to follow us for an urgent meet with Admiral Nechayev. Please come with us, Cadet Troi."

As Deanna took her place between the three men and started towards the exit she spotted her trusted valet ahead, waiting at the doorway, unsure of what to do, or where to go. As Deanna approached him, she marched on past him murmuring loud enough for him and her escorts to hear, "Homm, get hold of my mother. Get us out of this or else I'll make sure you don't get that bottle of scotch that Will promised you."

With any luck, she hoped, the threat of a confrontation with the formidable ambassador would make Nacheyev reconsider whatever action was about to happen behind closed office doors. United in their troubles, Deanna wasn't surprised when she felt Will's hand wrap around her own. He gave her a reassuring smile when her eyes met his, showing her that he was ready for whatever lay ahead.

Deanna took a deep breath, squeezed his fingers and silently hoped that the powers that be were on their side today. Surely being Imzadi meant something? It was all they had to bargain with.

  Book index   Previous chapter   Next chapter