The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [8]
Vaughn set his mouth in a grim line, and his expression turned cold. “If they don’t drive the Jem’Hadar from their world, Betazed will have no culture. Our informant stated that tens of thousands of Betazoids have already disappeared. At first, they were transported to Sentok Nor as laborers, but now that the station is nearing completion, some select groups of people are still being rounded up and taken away at an alarming rate. No one knows why or what’s happening to them, but the feeling within the resistance is that the Dominion’s interest in Betazed extends beyond its strategic location.”
Picard watched with sympathy as each of Vaughn’s statements struck Troi like a blow.
“Tevren,” Vaughn continued, “possesses knowledge no other living Betazoid is known to have. He knows how to employ his natural psionic talent as a lethal weapon. That knowledge can help the Betazoid population win back their planet.”
“I won’t be a part of this.” Troi looked as if just hearing the scheme had made her physically ill.
“Well, that’s unfortunate, Commander,” Vaughn said, his eyes narrowed, “because we need you to make this work. You know Darona. You’ve lived there, and you know the people at the prison in charge of Tevren. You can convince them to release him to your custody. And, you know what to expect from the man himself. Don’t you?”
Riker frowned. “Deanna, what’s he talking about?”
Troi ignored him, glaring at Vaughn. “With all due respect,” she said tightly, “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking of me.”
“On the contrary,” Vaughn replied evenly. “I’m asking you to do your duty as a Starfleet officer. To do your part to liberate your planet. Now, are you in or out?”
“Respectfully, Commander,” Riker said, his temper rising, “just who the hell—”
“That’s enough,” Picard snapped, his limit reached. “I’m sure we all appreciate the gravity of the situation on Betazed, but I’ll thank you not to forget you’re a guest on my ship, Commander Vaughn, and that I expect you to conduct yourself as such.” Without waiting for Vaughn to reply, the captain turned his attention to Troi. “I understand this is a difficult decision, Counselor. You needn’t make it now. Take some time to think about it.”
“But not too much time,” Vaughn added. “Just remember that the longer you take, the harder this becomes.”
Eyes on Vaughn, Riker stood, perhaps debating whether or not he and the elder commander should have a private conversation later. “Are we dismissed, sir?” he asked the captain.
Picard nodded as he and Vaughn stood also. “For now, Number One. But I’ll expect you to meet with Commander Vaughn and me later to begin planning the assault on Sentok Nor.”
“Very good, sir,” Riker said tonelessly, then followed Troi out of the observation lounge.
As soon as the doors slid closed behind them, Picard turned to Vaughn. The commander’s eyes seemed riveted for a moment to the just-vacated chairs across from him, then drifted to take in the entire conference table. Then, to Picard’s surprise, Vaughn said, “I envy you, Jean-Luc.”
“Me?” Picard said. “Why?”
Vaughn opened his mouth to elaborate, as if he were about to voice some long-festering frustration. Then just as suddenly, his mouth snapped shut and the wistfulness was gone, replaced by the grim resolve his voice usually carried. “Never mind. Best we stay focused on the issues at hand.”
Picard had known Vaughn for over thirty years. On those rare occasions when circumstances had permitted, and usually over steaming cups of Earl Grey, they had spent hours discussing archaeology, history, philosophy, and Shakespeare. But never Vaughn’s work in special operations. Picard knew some things—only a few scattered pages from the lengthy book of Vaughn’s extensive career—but it was enough for him to suspect that those decades of service were beginning to weigh heavily on the man.
But neither their long acquaintance nor Picard’s sensitivity to whatever personal issues Vaughn might have prevented the captain from