by Peter David
“You’re not serious,” she said, but she was speaking from her surprised state of mind, because she was already more than aware that Deanna was not kidding in the least. “Deanna, what…what were you thinking? He’s completely wrong for you. Certainly you must know that.”
“May I remind you, Mother, that you didn’t like Will Riker when I first brought him home.”
“Nonsense. I adored him.”
Deanna openly gaped at her mother. “Now you’re the one who can’t be serious, Mother! You threatened to bring him up on charges before Starfleet if he continued to be interested in me. Is that your definition of a ringing endorsement?”
“You were young and too easily swayed,” Lwaxana said dismissively. “I was simply watching out for your own good. As an individual, though, I found him perfectly acceptable. Even charming in a rugged, tactless sort of way. I just didn’t want you to make a mistake….”
“And what’s the excuse now, Mother? I’m quite a few years older than I was then. Are you still claiming that I’m still not sufficiently mature to know my own mind?”
“I’m just…” She tried to steady her hands as she gestured with them, since they were trembling with confusion and frustration. “I’m just saying that I’ve seen Mr. Woof in action…”
“Worf! His name is Worf!”
“Deanna Worf.” Lwaxana shuddered at the notion.
“I wouldn’t be Deanna Worf. If I chose to adapt to that Earth custom, I’d be Deanna Rozhenko.”
“Oh, well that’s just ever so much better. You’d trade Troi for Rozhenko? While you’re at it, why don’t you add another five syllables to ‘Deanna’? And have you considered children? What would they look like? Half Betazoid, half Klingon? Half telepath, half warrior? They’d go around telling everyone what to think. They’d be at home nowhere in the galaxy.”
“Congratulations, Mother,” Deanna said dryly. “We haven’t even taken any vows yet and you’ve already had us give birth to pariahs.”
Lwaxana waved dismissively, like an imperious queen. “You’re right, it’s ridiculous to discuss this. I won’t give permission for it.”
“Permission?” Deanna was astounded at her mother’s presumptuousness. “Mother…I came here to share happy news with you. But I did not come looking for your permission. Even if you ‘forbid’ it, I will still do as my heart tells me.”
“Then your heart should be steering you to Will Riker.”
Deanna put her face in her hands and moaned softly. “This from the woman who arranged a marriage for me when I was a child.”
“Deanna.” Lwaxana took her daughter’s hand in hers. “I don’t pretend that I haven’t made mistakes in my time. More than my share, if truth be known. And I haven’t…I haven’t always done right by you. I know that, I admit it…”
“Mother, don’t be so hard on yourself….”
“But removed by a distance of years, I’m able to see not only my mistakes, but yours.”
“How comforting it must be to be all-seeing.”
Any trace of sarcasm in Deanna’s voice was completely missed—or else simply and deliberately ignored—by Lwaxana. “Riker was your Imzadi, and you were his. I admit I was angry about it at the time, but it seems now, in retrospect, that you were destined to be a couple. You complemented each other in so many ways. When fate brought the two of you together again on the Enterprise, that wasn’t coincidence. It couldn’t have been. It was meant for you two to be together again.”
“We…are just…friends,” Deanna said patiently.
“Does Riker know about this…this engagement?”
“Yes. And he was the first to raise a glass in a toast to us.”
Lwaxana shook her head, discouraged. “Then he is as foolish as you. Then again, I expected more from you.”
“Mother, why are you so opposed to this…?”
“Because…” She sighed. “Deanna…you’re talking to a woman who has spent her entire life honing her emotions and feelings. They are, to me, a sort of natural resource. You should understand: You’re an empath. To me, it just…it feels wrong. Feels so profoundly wrong that I can’t even begin to articulate why.”
“Well, don’t you see, Mother? To me, it feels as right as it does wrong to you. So who’s to say who’s right?”
“I am.”
Deanna almost laughed at that until she saw that Lwaxana was deadly serious. Suddenly she felt a small buzz of alarm. “Mother…what do you mean by that?”
“If you go through with this,” Lwaxana said flatly, “then at your marriage, you will not be allowed to drink from the Sacred Chalice of Rixx.”
Deanna was floored. It was as if her mother had hit her upside the head with a heated poker. “Mother!” she cried out as if stricken. “The women of the Fifth House have drunk from the Sacred Chalice at their weddings for over six centuries! Six centuries of tradition, Mother! That’s when the chalice is passed down to its new holder!”
“That’s a fairly dramatic reaction,” Lwaxana said tartly, “from someone who once dismissed the Sacred Chalice as an old clay urn.”
“ ‘Moldy old pot,’ ” Deanna corrected, sounding a bit chagrined. “It’s what it symbolizes, Mother, no matter what it may actually be. Even your mother, although she disapproved of your marriage to my father, still passed on the Sacred Chalice in the time-honored manner. Would you be even more strict than she was?”
“I would do whatever I have to do,” replied Lwaxana, “to make you realize the foolishness of this. Little One, he’s so wrong for you….”
“You said that Will Riker and I ‘complemented’ each other. Did you ever stop to consider, Mother, that perhaps Worf and I likewise complement each other?”
“It’s a matter of extremes, Deanna. There’s no middle ground, there’s no…”
“How can you know that? You don’t know him, not really. Although you certainly seemed to get on well enough with his son. As I recall, you adored Alexander.”
“That’s true enough,” Lwaxana said slowly, even grudgingly. “He was the most soulful child. He seemed to be enduring a world of hurt with utter stoicism. I think I actually made some serious progress with him.”
“If that’s the case, then think how much progress I could make with him if I were like a mother to him. Or at least a continuous positive female influence on him.”
“Taking care of the child on a temporary basis is one thing, Deanna. Becoming his full-time mother is something else again. I just…”
For a moment, Lwaxana seemed to be out of words, and Deanna used the opportunity to jump in. “Mother, at least give him, and us, a chance. Speak to Worf. Spend some real time with him and Alexander. Show a bit of faith in my judgment and realize that we truly are good for each other, Worf and I.”
Lwaxana sighed heavily, as if expelling the weight of the world. “All right,” she said finally. “Bring them here for dinner tonight. We’ll have a nice, small, intimate little gathering, and discuss matters then.”
“Thank you, Mother.” She kissed Lwaxana on the cheek. “You won’t regret it.”
“I do already,” Lwaxana said.
“A small, intimate little gathering?”
“That is what she said,” Deanna told Worf. They were in a room at a nearby inn. Alexander had already found the mattress on his bed insufferably soft and, tired as he was from all the traveling, he had simply taken a blanket and dropped to sleep on the floor.
Worf was looking out a window at his view of the city. The clouds were pink and puffy in the sky. The city was a virtual tapestry of smoothly integrated buildings that were practically monuments to symmetry. It made him itch just to look at it.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” Deanna said, noticing that his gaze seemed captivated by it.
“Yes,” Worf replied. Eager to change the subject, he said, “And your mother’s reaction was…what? Is that all the two of you discussed? You told her of our engagement, and she invited us to dinner?”
“There may h
ave been some chitchat in between, but that’s more or less how it went.”
Worf grunted. He didn’t seem remotely convinced, which was understandable since Deanna was one of the worst liars he had ever known. Indeed, that may have been one of her more endearing qualities. “Were I your mother…I would not be pleased about this union.”
“Worf! How could you say such a thing?”
“Look at me, Deanna. Put yourself in her position, and look at me not as a woman in love with me, but as a woman who would see me married to her daughter. I do not take it personally, but let us be realistic: Is a Klingon the ideal choice for a Betazoid son-in-law? For any son-in-law?”
She put a hand gently to his face. Not for the first time, she was amazed by the roughness of it. “You are my first choice, and that is all that matters.”
He grunted again, and simply replied, “We shall see.”
When they arrived at the mansion that evening, it was a mob scene.
It was not particularly loud or raucous. Indeed, it was amazingly quiet, for the house was packed with well over a hundred Betazoids. Deanna gaped in astonishment at the huge throng of people who were visible through the door opened by Mr. Homn. People she hadn’t seen for years, major notables of Betazed, all were packed in. Mr. Homn barely afforded Worf a glance as he gestured for the Klingon to follow Deanna in. Alexander, staying close at his father’s side, entered quickly, as if afraid the door would shut him out into the night.
“Mother!” Deanna called out. In comparison with the silence in the main foyer and every visible area, her voice was like thunder.
Lwaxana hustled across the foyer to her, her full-length puffy blue dress swirling about the floor, and light sparkling off a dazzling array of stones on a jeweled choker she wore around her throat. “Little One…Worf…Alexander…how wonderful to see you.” She touched the choker. “It’s new. Be honest…do you think it’s too much? Does it stand out?”
“Absolutely,” Worf said flatly. “When I saw you in the middle of this crowd, the first thought I had was ‘Choker.’ ”
Lwaxana bobbed her head in appreciation, and then did a split second of a double take as she realized she wasn’t entirely sure what he had just said. Recovering quickly, she said, “My apologies, children, for the unexpected crowd….”
“You said a small, intimate gathering, Mother!”
“I know, Little One, and I forgot that I had arranged for a banquet here in your honor. The invitations had gone out, the food already prepared.” She shrugged grandly, as if appealing to the universe to solve her problems. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“They’re very quiet,” Alexander noted.
“They’re communing telepathically, for the most part. Does it bother you?”
“We can adapt,” Worf said. “Correct, Alexander?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Oh, no, you shouldn’t have to…”
“That’s correct, Mother,” Deanna said icily. “They shouldn’t.”
Deanna!
A cry of pure joy sounded in her head and Deanna turned to see a slim blond woman, running toward her with her arms wide.
“Chandra!” Deanna cried out.
Deanna! Chandra replied directly into Deanna’s head. She embraced her eagerly, then turned to Worf and thought, And this is your fiancé?
That’s right, said Deanna as she informed Worf aloud, “Worf, this is Chandra, one of my best friends growing up. I was maid of honor at her wedding.”
Worf nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Hello.”
“How did you know Worf was my fiancé?” Deanna asked.
“Are you joking? It’s all over the city that you brought home a…” She stopped, turned, and smiled winningly at Worf. “…a…fiancé…”
Worf became painfully aware that he was rapidly becoming the center of attention. In the supernaturally quiet gathering, more and more Betazoids appeared to be glancing his way. He couldn’t hear any of the conversation, of course, since it was all being conducted on a telepathic basis. But Worf had rather impressive peripheral vision, and he couldn’t help but notice how people would glance quickly in his direction and then look away just as quickly.
It irked him to say the least.
“Deanna…perhaps Alexander and I would be best advised to return to the inn….”
Upon hearing this pronouncement, Alexander’s face immediately darkened in concern. “Is it something I did, Father?”
“No. No, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Well, what then?”
“Yes, Mr. Woo…Worf, what could it be?” Lwaxana asked as she tousled Alexander’s hair. “You know how much I adore spending time with you and, particularly, your son. Look, everything is set up.” And indeed that was the case. Long tables had been put out, lined with an assortment of Betazoid delicacies. One would have thought that it required an army of servants to deal with the cooking, preparation, and setup. But instead there was just Mr. Homn, putting the finishing touches on the table and seemingly unperturbed at handling the massive undertaking, as near as anyone could tell, single-handedly. The room itself was rather opulent, with a glittering chandelier overhead that—very likely not coincidentally—matched Lwaxana’s choker. Portraits of previous heads of the Fifth House lined the walls. It was easy to tell the order of ascension: Each painting was progressively larger. Not by much, each one perhaps no more than ten percent. But it was still evident when seen all together. The one of Lwaxana took up half a wall. Worf had a feeling that, when it came Deanna’s turn, they’d have no choice but to paint a mural of her on the ceiling.
“This is clearly intended as a reunion for Deanna and her friends and associates,” Worf observed. “We would seem…out of place.”
There was a moment of silence, and it was Lwaxana who commented, very quietly, “If you say so, Mr. Worf.”
“Father…” Alexander hesitated, clearly loath to say what was on his mind.
Worf looked down at him. “What?” he said with clear impatience.
“It’s like…running away.”
The words had the exact effect on Worf that one could have expected. He drew himself up, squaring his broad shoulders, and glowered. “This is not a matter of cowardice,” he rumbled. “I am simply thinking of what is in Deanna’s best interest….”
“If that is the consideration,” Deanna said, “then it is in my best interest, as far as I’m concerned, that you remain. Either that or”—and she cast a defiant look at her mother—“we will all leave.”
“Oh, but that would be terrible,” said Lwaxana.
“Come, Worf…let’s go.” Clearly the decision was made, as far as Deanna was concerned. Since it was still largely silent in the room, eerily to Worf, like a morgue, her voice carried throughout the great dining room.
“Worf, please, stay…all of you.” There was something akin to genuine pleading in Lwaxana’s voice. Worf was not entirely sure just how she had been anticipating that this night would go, but he was positive that having Deanna simply walk out was not one of the options she had been strongly considering.
“Yes, of course we will stay,” Worf said quickly.
Deanna turned to him. “Worf, we don’t have to remain on my account….”
“We will stay,” he told her, “because it is the right thing to do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Worf,” Lwaxana said, and she even bowed slightly with apparently no hint of sarcasm. Then she turned and said loudly to the other guests, “My friends…out of respect for our guests tonight…I would ask that you converse out loud this evening. I would like them to feel as much at home as possible, in keeping with the Betazoid spirit of welcoming all who would join us.”
There was a hesitation, as if everyone was self-conscious about being the first to open their mouths. But one after another they began to speak, and soon there was an undercurrent of polite conversation. Hardly a roar of noise; the Betazoids were too understated for that.
“Mo
re like the sort of sounds you’re accustomed to at a social gathering, Mr. Worf?” Lwaxana asked.
“Most Klingon gatherings have the sound of bone striking bone scattered throughout,” Worf replied. “However, I do not think it necessary to replicate that here.”
The banquet was designed as purely a stand-up affair, with all of the food prepared as finger food so that the Betazoids would be able to more easily circulate around the room. Once she was convinced that Worf was truly comfortable in the surroundings, Deanna did not hesitate to begin serious mingling with her old friends. Lwaxana, meantime, had gravitated to Alexander and was making it a point to introduce the youngster around. At first Worf was a bit suspicious of it, but he quickly dismissed it from his mind. It was indisputable that, for whatever reason, Lwaxana had taken a shine to the lad. She had displayed it when she had met him on the Enterprise several years ago, and that attraction was resurging now.
But Worf was convinced that she was less than ecstatic about the prospect of the boy’s father becoming a relation through marriage.
Worf was no fool. Despite Deanna’s claims to the contrary, he knew where he stood with Lwaxana. He told himself that it was her problem rather than his, but he couldn’t help but feel that that was simply too facile an answer.
He tried to stand off to the side, to remain inconspicuous, but Deanna saw him isolated and—believing that she was doing him a favor—pulled him along with her as she went from one cluster of people to another. With each group, it seemed to Worf that they were tripping over their words, trying to be polite but unaccustomed to verbalizing their thoughts, and certainly not used to dealing with Klingons.
An older man named Gart Xerx, who had introduced himself as Chandra’s father, stood there with a drink in his hand and asked, “So what do you two talk about?”
“Talk…?” Worf clearly found the question puzzling. “We talk about…all manner of subjects.”
“Worf is extremely well read,” Deanna said.
“Really? What sort of topics do you like to read about, Worf?”
“Strategy. Combat tactics. History….”
“Ah, history. What sort of histories?”