The Battle of Betazed - Charlotte Douglas [9]
Vaughn exhaled deeply. “Spare me the lecture, Jean-Luc. People are dying out there. We’re losing this war. I can’t go tiptoeing on eggshells to spare feelings when the stakes are too damned high.”
“But training Betazoids to kill with their minds?” Picard shook his head. “Whether they succeed or not, this will change them fundamentally. Perhaps irrevocably.”
“They’re already changed,” Vaughn pointed out. “This was their idea, not mine, and not Command’s. This is what their desperation has brought them to. Starfleet isn’t in any position to swoop in and save them, and they’ve figured that much out. The one thing we may be able to do is empower them according to their own wishes. And if we don’t do something now, how long do you think it’ll be before Andor or Tellar follow? How long before Alpha Centauri or Earth falls, when the Dominion has Betazed from which to launch an attack?” Vaughn leaned back against the viewport and folded his arms. “The ugly truth is, the clock is ticking for all of us.”
“But how will the Betazoids ever put that genie back in the bottle?”
Vaughn shrugged. “They may not.”
Picard yanked at his jacket and paced the floor of the observation lounge. “This damnable war has already affected the Federation way of life. It’s changed how we think about ourselves, our neighbors, our very reasons for existing. I find myself wondering how we can fight for our beliefs when doing so forces us too often to compromise those very values we’re willing to die for.”
“Some would say we’re overdue for a kick in our complacency. The Breen gave us that when they nearly destroyed Starfleet Headquarters. And we were damn lucky then that that was all they managed to do.” Vaughn shook his head. “You know as well as I, Jean-Luc, that in times of crisis, difficult choices have to be made by good people willing to take on the burden, even if it means damning themselves in the process.”
Picard eyed his old friend. “Are you one of them, Elias?”
“Let’s just say I understand both sides of the argument. But I also know from bitter experience that making the right choice is seldom a question of black or white. Sometimes the right thing to do turns out to be merely the lesser of two evils.” Vaughn straightened and started for the door.
“Is that what you believe in?” Picard called after him. “The lesser of evils?”
Vaughn didn’t turn, but stopped long enough to say in a quiet voice, “I believe in the same thing you do, Jean-Luc. I believe in hope.”
Without another word, he strode from the observation lounge, leaving Picard alone with his misgivings.
Chapter Three
R IKER WAS SEETHING. No small part of his anger was directed at Vaughn for the man’s presumption and insensitivity, but he’d also reserved a good portion of his rage for himself. During the silent turbolift ride back to Troi’s quarters, he’d had ample time to give more consideration to Vaughn’s proposal. And to his chagrin, Riker had realized that in the larger strategic context of the Dominion War, arming Betazoids with the ability to fight telepathically wasn’t such a bad idea. The plan had a potentially horrific downside, to be certain, but even Riker could see it had definite benefits, if they could pull it off.
The problem, he knew, was whether a culture as idyllic and peaceful as Betazed’s could survive the transformation that might take place if the population’s most cherished ability—to share their very thoughts—was turned into a means of waging war. Such abuse of their psionic talent was anathema to Betazoids, a corruption of their moral center.
It was these very issues, he knew, that Deanna was struggling with now. Even if he hadn’t known her so well, Riker’s heart would have gone out to her. Contemplating this decision might rip her apart. She had to make a desperate choice: go against the basic tenets of Betazoid society and her conscience—or resign herself to her