A Time for War, a Time for Peace - Keith R. A. DeCandido [20]
Leaning back in her chair, Troi let out a long breath that she hadn’t even realized she was holding. “You may be right.”
Del Cid’s bleary eyes twinkled a bit. “Well, don’t be too sure—it could just be the exhaustion talking. What does Will have to say?”
Looking away from the viewer, Troi said, “I haven’t talked to him about it.”
Up until now, Del Cid had barely been able to keep her eyes open; at Troi’s words, though, they widened considerably. “Why not?”
“I haven’t—I didn’t want to burden him with this.”
“That’s a particularly feeble excuse, Deanna.”
Defensively, Troi said, “He’s been through a lot, and—”
“So’ve you. You two are in this together now, remember? That’s what marriage is supposed to be all about.”
Troi closed her eyes for a moment, wincing inwardly at Del Cid’s repetition of Riker’s words from earlier. Then she opened them. “You’re right.”
“So instead of waking me out of a sound sleep, go wake him out of his. It’ll be a lot easier for you to get past this if you’ve got him on your side. This is too deep in you to not share with him. If you don’t, it’ll come exploding out at the worst possible time—and you know that.”
Again, Troi said, “You’re right.” She let out another breath. “Thank you, Marlyn.”
“My pleasure. Really, Deanna, ignore my bitching and moaning—any time you need to talk, get in touch. I know how hard it is for us counselors to take our own advice, so I’m more than happy to give you the occasional kick in the rear.”
Troi chuckled. “I’ll be sure to remember that. Now go get some sleep.”
“Gladly.” Del Cid sounded thrilled at that very notion, and Troi felt a pang of regret.
I should never have called her—I should’ve gone straight to Will, she thought as she terminated the connection.
Getting up from the chair, she padded back into the bedroom. Reaching out with the mental link that the two of them had shared ever since their initial affair on Betazed all those years ago, Troi nudged Riker awake.
He rolled over, and looked at her with tired eyes. “Deanna? What is it?”
Sitting down next to him on the bed, putting a hand on his shoulder, she said, “Will—we need to talk.”
Chapter 3
Earth
AS KANT JOREL WALKED DOWN the hallway toward the holocom, he riffled through the padds in his hand. “You sure we don’t have a statement from Ross?”
His new assistant, an Andorian whose name he simply could not remember, said, “Permit me to use my telepathic powers to ascertain if the answer to that question has changed in the seventy-five seconds since last you asked it.”
Kant, a middle-aged Bajoran man who had served as the Federation Council’s liaison to the press for the past two and a half years, and gone through seven assistants in that time, grunted. “Being sarcastic won’t get you very far in this job.”
“Based on the sheer number of predecessors I’ve had, I’d say that nothing gets anyone very far in this job.”
“Yeah, but that’s only because I’m impossible to work with.”
“That is what I heard.”
Kant looked down at the padd on top of the bunch in his hand, which contained the official statement from the council that he was about to read to the members of the press. “The statement’s been vetted by everyone who’s supposed to vet it?”
The Andorian’s antennae twitched. “I assume so.”
Kant stopped walking and stared his assistant right in his blue-skinned face. At that moment, he remembered that he was called Zhres. “You’re assuming, Zhres. That’s bad. Assuming is what gets people killed.”
“Councillor Ra’ch’s aide told me that it was ready to be given to the press. Hence my assumption.”
“Fine.” He started walking again.
“Oh, by the way,” Zhres said, “there’s a new reporter in the room—a