The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [74]
“Then we’ll find the specs on Betazed,” Deanna said.
Beverly touched her arm. “I don’t think Tevren’s going to survive this trip, Deanna. His deterioration is continuing, and I can’t stop it. There’s nothing more I can do for him.”
Deanna couldn’t believe it. “There’s got to be something—”
“There isn’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know exactly how much longer he’s going to last, but it isn’t long. And he’s asked to speak with you.”
Deanna nodded. She could feel Tevren’s extreme anxiety as she approached his bed. He turned his head toward her, his dark eyes no longer the same horrible void, but filled with the fear that emanated from his mind.
“Am I dying?” he demanded in his dry voice that reminded Deanna of the rustle of dead leaves.
“Yes,” Deanna said softly. “Your body is reacting adversely to the removal of your psionic inhibitor.”
“Poor little Deanna,” Tevren said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“Why poor me?”
“You’re so deliciously conflicted. I’ve felt it ever since you broke me out of Lanolan’s box. If I survive, you have to bring me home, and the prospect of other Betazoids knowing what I know terrifies you.” Tevren was obviously finding it increasingly difficult to speak. The words started to come out in ragged breaths, but he refused to stop. “Now I’m dying, and somewhere deep inside, in a place you won’t admit exists, you’re glad. Because it means you did everything you could for Betazed, and now you think fate has seen fit to absolve you of the responsibility.”
Deanna said nothing and turned to go, but Tevren’s bony fingers caught her wrist and pulled her back, forcing her to look at him. “Can’t handle facing yourself, Counselor?”
Deanna glared at him in undisguised hate, but chose her words carefully. “Whether that’s true or not is a moot point. For better or worse, you are going to die before we make it home, and the choice really is out of my hands now.”
“Is it?” Tevren whispered.
Before she could react, he invaded her mind, pushing aside all barriers and forcing himself into her psyche. The events of his life cascaded through her in an instant, including every torturous deed and brutal murder he had ever committed. With horrifying clarity, she witnessed how he had killed his victims and, even worse, experienced the euphoria, the arousal he’d felt from soaking up the psychological terror and physical agony of his victims.
Recoiling in horror, she wrenched herself from his grasp, but it was too late. She knew everything Tevren had wanted her to know, and the thought of it made him smile.
“Go to hell, Deanna.”
Alarms sounded on the biofunction monitors above his bed, and Beverly came running. Working desperately, she activated the neural stimulators on Tevren’s temples and injected him with a massive dose of epinephrine. After several frantic minutes of treatment, the doctor reached up and switched off the monitors.
“He’s gone,” Beverly said. “I’m sorry. There was nothing else I could do.”
Deanna turned away from Tevren’s body and crashed against an instrument cart, toppling it as she fell against the wall. Her mind reeled from Tevren’s intrusion and the awful truth of his dying malediction.
“Deanna!” Beverly cried, rushing to help her. The doctor eased her into a chair as Vaughn ran over, both of them saying her name over and over, demanding to know if she was all right.
All she could think about was the horrific burden Tevren had forced upon her, the knowledge that was now hers to share or withhold, the responsibility she thought she’d been freed from.
Filled with self-loathing and an anguish she thought would consume her, Deanna fled to her quarters, bitterly aware that Tevren had won.
With deliberate calm, Picard marched toward the Enterprise brig. O’Brien had already shown him the contents of Dr. Moset’s padd, but it contained only indecipherable numerical data, and neither the captain nor O’Brien had been able to determine from those