Of course, explaining that to a seven-year-old girl is a bit harder.
Tapping his combadge in response to the call from the bridge, he said, “Go ahead.”
“Report to Transporter Room 2, sir. Commander Vaughn’s ready to beam on board.”
“Acknowledged.” Troi was grateful that Captain Haden had allowed him to perform this duty, which could just as easily have gone to the first officer, Commander Li, or the security chief.
Instead, it was the second officer of the U.S.S. Carthagewho entered the transporter room to greet Vaughn as he beamed on board.
Vaughn had changed a bit in seven years: more lines to his face, more gray in his hair. Most notably, he’d grown a beard, which matched the brown and gray colors of his hair.
On the other hand, the body language hadn’t changed at all. Troi had never known anyone who was quite as in control of himself as Elias Vaughn. Troi envied it in a lot of ways, though Troi had found that a lack of control had its appeal. He often wondered how someone as centered and as private as Vaughn would fare in a relationship with a telepath.
Smiling slightly at the sight of his escort, Vaughn said, “Ian. Good to see you again.”
“Same here. I like the beard.”
Vaughn smirked at that. “Thanks.”
Troi tapped his combadge. “Bridge, Commander Vaughn is on board.”
Haden himself replied. “Acknowledged, Mr. Troi. We’ll be getting underway to Raknal V immediately. Escort the commander to my ready room.”
“Yes, sir.” He looked at Vaughn and grinned. “If the commander will come this way.”
“Be happy to.”
As they proceeded to the turbolift, Vaughn asked, “How are things at home?”
“Quite well. Deanna’s an incredibly bright child. After this little trip to Raknal’s over, I’ve got some leave coming, and I’m going to spend some time with them.” Remembering Lwaxana’s suggestion, he added, “You’re welcome to come along, if you want. It’d be nice to have you visit when there isn’t a funeral involved.”
“It’s a possibility,” Vaughn said, which was a better answer than the “no” Troi had been expecting. “Let’s see how things go on Raknal V first.”
They entered the turbolift. “Fair enough,” Troi said to Vaughn, then added to the computer, “Bridge,” causing the lift to head upward.
Within moments, they arrived, and entered Haden’s lair. The captain’s wide eyes fell on Vaughn’s face, and he scowled. Troi tried to cover a smile. The last fifteen years had not been kind to Haden’s hairline, which had receded quite a bit, and he seemed to derive a certain irritation from the fact that Vaughn, who was older than Haden, not only still had a full head of hair, but had poured salt in the wound by growing a full beard.
“Welcome back, Commander.”
Vaughn nodded his head as he and Troi took their seats in the captain’s two guest chairs. “Thank you, Captain.”
“It’s almost like a reunion. Pity we can’t divert Enterprisehere, we’d have the whole Betreka gang back again.”
Troi smiled. Commander—or, rather, CaptainGarrett had been given command of the U.S.S. Enterprisefour years after the Betreka Nebula incident, and had spent the last decade-plus doing everything she could to live up to the reputation that the name of her ship carried. Most of the crew complement from the Carthage’s last trip to the Betreka Sector had either been promoted—like Troi and Lin—or moved on to other assignments—like Phillips and Garrett. The captain and Mike Zipser at communications were the only ones still in the same position they were fifteen years earlier. And Zip’s close enough to retirement that he probably doesn’t care all that much about the lack of promotion.
Haden leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his barrel chest, looking like a particularly cranky Buddha. “What’s your take on the Raknal situation, Commander?”
“I don’t have a ‘take’ just yet, Captain. That’s part of what I’m taking this trip to find out. From what I do know, I think my feelings fifteen years ago that this was an incredibly bad idea were justified.”
Snorting, Haden said, “That’s an understatement. The Cardassians and the Klingons have spent more time spitting on each other in space than they have actually exploiting the planet. They’ve both done lousy jobs of making use of Raknal’s resources, and half their equipment doesn’t work. You’d think that disaster with the Chutwould’ve been a wake-up call, but it hasn’t improved a damn thing.”
“Personally, sir, I’d rather wait until—”
Whatever Vaughn wanted to wait until remained unsaid, interrupted as it was by the Klaxon of the ship going to red alert. Commander Lin’s voice came over the intercom. “Captain Haden to the bridge.”
Troi looked up in shock, then all three of them immediately went through the door. “Report,” Haden barked at Lin, who was standing between the command center and the helm. Troi stepped into the bridge’s lower level to take his position at the operations console to the left of the helm even as Haden moved to sit in the command chair. Vaughn remained on the upper level, standing just to the right of the communications console.
“We just received a distress call from Raknal V,” Lin said. “We’ve increased speed to warp eight.”
Troi winced. Lin looked over at Zipser, who said, “According to the signal, a building in the Klingons’ capital city on the southern continent has been destroyed.” He cast a quick glance at Haden. “Governor Qaolin thinks it’s because of Cardassian sabotage.”
“What kind of building?” Haden asked.
“They didn’t say, but there was an indication that people were trapped.”
Haden and Lin exchanged a glance, then the captain looked at Vaughn. “Looks like this just mutated into a damn rescue mission.”
“So it would seem.” Vaughn, Troi noticed, spoke in a neutral tone.
Zipser then said, “Sir, we’re being hailed directly by Governor Qaolin.”
“This oughtta be good. On screen.”
Troi blinked in surprise at the face that appeared on the forward viewer. Fifteen years ago, Qaolin had given the impression of a vibrant man, dark hair framing a fierce face. His voice had a deep, confident timbre to it.
The voice that issued forth from the gray-haired wreck of a Klingon with several missing teeth had none of that confidence left. From the way he slurred his consonants, Troi’s best hypothesis was that he had drunk all the confidence away. “I demand the immediate arrest of Prefect Monor and the ceding of Raknal V to the Klingon Empire!”
“Greetings, Governor Qaolin,” Haden said dryly. “This is Captain Haden. We’re on our way to assist you. Is there anything we can do—”
“I don’t have any interest in your Federation politeness,”Qaolin said with a snarl. “There are Klingons dying and dead in that building, and Cardassian treachery has killed them, just like it did the good men and women who died on theChut.”
“Do you have any evidence to support this accusation?”
Qaolin slammed his fist on his desk. “I need no evidence! I have lived on this mudball with Monor for fifteen years! I know hisheart , Captain, and he will stop atnothing to keep Ch’gran from us!”
Troi could hear Haden’s sigh. “So no evidence, then?”
Before Qaolin could say anything in response, Zipser said, “Sir, we’re now being hailed by Prefect Monor.”
That prompted a laugh from Qaolin. “ThepetaQ no doubt wishes to curry favor with you by spinning lies of his innocence.”
“Split screen, Mr. Zipser,” Haden said. “Let’s all talk together.”
Qaolin’s image shifted to the righthand side of the viewer, with the left side now taken up by Monor’s visage. The Cardassian showed less evidence of the passage of time to Troi. His face, hair, and bearing were much the same as they were. The only difference Troi could see was in the prefect’s eyes, which looked tired. Then he checked the library computer and discovered that, in the Cardassian capital city on the northern continent, it was the middle of the night right now.