So Deanna was in the command track. Amazingly, she’d scored well enough on her entrance exam to merit the position. But if she failed now … oh, boy, she’d never hear the end of it.
The Ichthyan’s gurgly voice broke through Deanna’s brooding. “I wish you success in all your endeavors, fellow cadet.” And with that, the alien picked up her bag and followed the other cadets who had debarked the shuttle and were now on their way to the administration building to check in.
Deanna looked around. She was the only one still on the landing pad. The shuttle captain eyed her, tapping his foot impatiently. “Oh-sorry,” Deanna muttered. She picked up her bag and hurried after the other cadets, hoping she had the strength to face the challenges ahead.
The next two weeks flew by in a blur of new experiences—new classes, new faces, new routines, even a crisp new cadet’s uniform. A fast-paced excitement pervaded Starfleet Academy, as if the air itself were charged with the energy of learning. Deanna should have been having the time of her life.
But she wasn’t.
Strengthening her mental shields turned out to be more difficult than she’d expected. No matter how hard she concentrated, there were times when she felt as if her own thoughts and emotions were getting smashed into a tiny corner of her skull while the emotions of every other sentient being within ten kilometers crammed in to use up all available thinking room. She couldn’t concentrate. She was irritable and snappish. Regular relaxation periods and plenty of sleep might have helped, but Deanna could hardly manage either of those things under the pressure of her class load.
She didn’t dare tell anyone. Who would sympathize? After all, Deanna wasn’t the first empath to attend the Academy. If she let on that she was having problems, they might think her unfit for Starfleet. “Building proper mental shields is a skill, Little One,” Lwaxana had warned her before she left home. “Living on Betazed all your life, why, you’re used to dealing with highly disciplined telepaths who’d never dream of letting their emotions fly helter-skelter. But on Earth it’s quite another thing. You really ought to wait until you master more techniques.”
Deanna had been sure that her mother was just trying to keep her from leaving home. Now she realized that Lwaxana was right. But right or not, Deanna would manage. She had to.
At least her living arrangements turned out well. Her assigned roommate was Twil d-ch-Ka, the Ichthyan she’d met on the day of her arrival. “Twil. That’s a pretty name,” Deanna told her.
“Twil designates clan, and d-ch-Ka designates my person.” The Ichthyan put a bizarre accent on the name that Deanna couldn’t even hope to duplicate. “The meaning is ‘fire beneath the waves.’”
Fire indeed, Deanna noted. D-ch-Ka’s long red hair was in striking contrast to her cool ocean-colored body.
Ichthos was a water world, and though the Ichthyans dwelled in great cities that floated above the waves, they spent most of their time wet. D-ch-Ka was every inch a swimmer, from her webbed fingers and toes to the natural racing lines of her sleek humanoid body. Her scales were soft, and they glittered in the light. The lotion that d-ch-Ka used to maintain sufficient body moisture added to the effect, making her glisten with an almost magical effect in full sunlight.
Deanna liked her from the start. But she couldn’t pronounce her name correctly no matter how hard she tried. “Tell you what,” Deanna offered. “Suppose I call you by a nickname instead?”
“Nickname? That is a term of belonging, correct?” D-ch-Ka’s eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Yes, you will designate for me a nickname!”
Deanna couldn’t help but laugh at the delight radiating from the normally aristocratic Ichthyan. “Okay,” she said thoughtfully, “how about, umm … Auburn?”
D-ch-Ka just stared, clueless.
“Auburn is a shade of red,” Deanna explained. “The color of your hair.”
Now d-ch-Ka grinned. “I approve!”
The nickname caught on, and soon every cadet who met the tall Ichthyan knew her as Auburn. She was becoming quite popular.
Strangely enough, Deanna herself wasn’t doing so well in that area. In fact, for the first time in her life, Deanna Troi was having trouble making friends. Auburn seemed to be the only person whose emotions didn’t cause Deanna mental distress. The Ichthyan’s mind was calm and cool, like a tranquil ocean. Her emotions brushed up against Deanna’s mental shields like soft waves lapping at a beach, not like a pack of frenzied Klingon targs trying to tear down a wall. Deanna didn’t know if all Ichthyans enjoyed such a peaceful mental state, but one thing was clear—almost every other life-form at the Academy, particularly humans, did not.
“I don’t understand it,” Deanna told Auburn during their second week at the Academy. “I’ve never had trouble being sociable before.”
They were walking into the mess hall for dinner, and the big room was fluttering with activity, lots of chatting and slurping, scraping chairs and clanking silverware. It sounded nothing like the orderly, servant-filled Troi household on Betazed, but Deanna presumed it reminded other cadets of home sweet home.
“I’ve met a lot of people here,” Deanna continued as she and Auburn headed for the counter laden with the evening’s food choices, “but I don’t seem to be making a good impression.”
Auburn said nothing as the two of them scanned the available plates on the counter. Then suddenly Deanna gasped. “I don’t believe it!”
“Excuse?” Auburn asked.
Deanna snatched a little glass bowl of rich brown foam off the counter, her mouth watering. “Unless I’m mistaken, this is Thalian chocolate mousse. Thalian chocolate is the richest chocolate in the galaxy!”
“Hey, you can’t take dessert yet,” said a short, studious cadet behind her. His name was Ned Kenrick, and he lived three doors down the hall from Deanna and Auburn. “You haven’t eaten a main course. You’d better put it back.”
A sensation of paranoia shot out from Ned and pierced Deanna’s mental shields, smothering her good mood like a wet blanket on a fire. “What’s the matter with you, Kenrick?” she barked at the cadet. “Are you so paranoid that you actually think they’re watching to see if we eat our meals in order?” And with that she pushed her way out of the line and began looking for an unoccupied table, the bowl of mousse cupped protectively in her hands.
What’s the matter with you? Deanna angrily asked herself. You’re acting like a child. Now everybody’s staring. Indeed, she felt as if every pair of eyes in the mess hall was following her every move.
In truth, only a few cadets had witnessed the outburst. But Deanna felt as if everyone was now judging her on the great cosmic scale of worthiness. It’s not fair! she thought, plunking herself down at a corner table, away from everyone else. Every time I think my shields are firmly in place, somebody comes along and throws his mental static right at me. Then people act as if I’ve done something wrong. They don’t understand what I’m going through!
Deanna grabbed up her spoon and started eating. The foam was Thalian chocolate mousse, all right. Its creamy smoothness calmed her down. If only life could be as smooth as chocolate, she thought dismally, scooping up another spoonful, then another.
Then she stopped, wondering. Maybe Ned was right. Maybe someone was watching the cadets all the time, even here, monitoring their actions and choices, making little notes that went into their permanent files, recording every single—
No! she thought angrily. Deanna, that’s not how you feel. That’s how Ned feels. His paranoia is still in your head. Get it out!
She suddenly looked up to find Auburn seated across the table from her, gazing at her over a plate of raw seafood. As she’d done with her mother so many times, Deanna wiped the expression of rage from her face and instantly replaced it with one of innocent calm. “Is something wrong?” she inquired.
“I am wondering that of you,” Auburn gurgled, and pointed at Deanna’s bowl with a long blue finger.
The bowl was empty. Deanna blinked down at it in surp
rise. “It was … really good,” was all she could think of to say.
Auburn plucked a bite-sized octopus from her plate and popped it into her mouth. “Before the Thalian chocolate, you expressed to me a concern,” she said after swallowing the little sea creature whole.
Deanna didn’t follow.
“A concern about impressions you fail to make on others?” Auburn prompted.
Out of nowhere, the image of Lwaxana flooded Deanna’s mind. “First impressions are everything, Little One,” her mother had once told her. “Why, just look at me, for instance. I always dress in my very best, and my manners are impeccable. After all, you never know who you may have to impress!”
“Be quiet, Mother,” Deanna said quietly through clenched teeth.
Auburn leaned forward, as if trying to hear a whisper. “Repeat, please?”
“Oh, uh … I was just thinking.” Deanna toyed with her spoon, wishing she had more chocolate mousse. “Auburn, by now everyone knows I’m an empath. Why can’t they at least try to understand what I’m going through? They treat me like an ogre or something.”
The Ichthyan smiled gently. “The truth of Deanna Troi is buried deep, but I believe I see it.” She leaned forward. “Do you wish to hear truth?”
Deanna shivered a little. “If it will help me … yes.”
Auburn spoke mildly but to the point. “You led a privileged life on Betazed, Troi. For this reason you carry yourself in a haughty manner. Others are afraid to approach, though they may wish to.”
Deanna started to defend herself, then clamped her lips shut and just listened.
“You possess impressive beauty in the eyes of many cultures,” Auburn continued in a matter-of-fact tone, adding, “Ichthyans included. Such beauty intimidates others.”
Beauty? Intimidating? Deanna wondered at that, but held her tongue.
“Your empathic gifts still pain you,” Auburn went on. “You struggle to shield yourself from the emotions of others, but your efforts give your face an appearance of”—Auburn paused, and Deanna held her breath—”anger. None wish to meet an angry person.”
“I’m not always angry!” Deanna finally blurted out. “I’m just having trouble keeping my shields strong. It takes a lot of concentration.” For someone like Lwaxana, it would be a snap. But Deanna was new at this. She was trying so hard! Couldn’t the other cadets see that?
“I also note,” Auburn said dryly, “that you often contradict others.”
“I do not—” Deanna stopped. Oh, good grief…
“Perhaps,” Auburn suggested calmly, “it is a strong desire to be independent that makes you reject the suggestions of others, even those suggestions concerning noncritical subjects.”
Deanna cringed. “Like when to eat dessert.” She wanted to crawl under a rock. “I see now, Auburn. Thank you.” No wonder nobody wants to talk to me! How could I have been so blind? Swallowing her pride, Deanna drew herself up straight again and met Auburn’s gaze. “All right, so … what can I do?”
The Ichthyan pondered a moment. “You are complex, Troi. This is not one problem, but many. I offer you the advice my father offered me before I left Ichthos: ‘See all, but act only on truth.’”
Deanna nodded. She knew good advice when she heard it.
Deanna maneuvered her way down the crowded corridor of the xenosciences building, clutching her computer padd close as if it might shield her from the riot of emotions whirling around her head, trying to get in. She was not happy. Things just weren’t working out.
All the truth that Auburn had given her a week ago in the mess hall, all that stuff about being haughty and unapproachable and angry—it had sounded correctable at the time. But Deanna had spent this whole week trying to change her ways, and things were only getting worse.
For instance, she should have been happy right now. She had just gotten a perfect score on a Basic Navigation pop quiz, and navigation theory wasn’t even her specialty. But she’d studied the instructor, Lieutenant Takota, as much as she had the class material. One thing had been obvious to her from day one: Takota was a man who liked surprises. It was only natural to expect him to throw surprises at his students. When he popped the quiz, she was ready.
Alex Renny, a Basic Nay classmate, hadn’t been ready at all. When the test scores were announced, his envy had overwhelmed her mental shields and polluted her thoughts, giving her a headache worse than any she’d had since arriving at the Academy.
As Deanna bulldozed her way through the crowd, heading for the xenosociology lecture hall, she sensed an uncomfortable presence close behind her. Too close. She whirled around and, sure enough, there stood Alex Renny.
Renny put his hands up as if to ward off a wild beast. “Hey!” he cried defensively.
Deanna realized that she was the beast. Her expression was set in a furious frown, her eyes narrowed. “Hey what?” she asked back, trying to keep the challenge out of her voice and failing.
Renny lowered his hands. “I just wanted to congratulate you, Cadet Troi. You did, after all, score a perfect one hundred on a killer quiz.”
“I study a lot,” Deanna answered carefully, sensing the hot, unpleasant wave of negativity emanating from him. She did her best to keep her shields strong. “Excuse me, I have to get to class.”
But Renny followed her. “You’re Betazoid, right?”
Deanna stopped. “Yes, I am. Well, half Betazoid. My father was human.”
“So you can read minds?”
“No, I’m an empath. I can read emotions but not thoughts.”
Renny shook his head sympathetically. “Too bad. Mind reading would sure come in handy at test time, I bet.”
Deanna froze. So that’s what this is all about, she thought. “I did not cheat on that pop quiz, Mr. Renny,” she told him flatly.
With puppy-innocent eyes, Renny held up his hands again. “Whoa, now, I never said you did.”
“But you feel that way.”
“Ah, so you can read minds!”
“It doesn’t take telepathy to tell you’re angry at me for scoring better than you,” Deanna retorted. “That’s not fair.”
“Funny you should use that word—‘fair,’” Renny said, his voice low. “What’s not fair is that a mind reader can take an exam in a classroom full of nontelepaths.”
“I told you—”
“You told me you were empathic, okay,” Renny corrected himself. “But that still means you can sense things in other people’s minds. There’s no normal way you could have scored one hundred on that test. Admit it.”
Deanna pulled herself up to full height, a move she’d seen her mother make when preparing to answer a direct challenge. With an aristocratic air that sounded more like Lwaxana than she cared to admit, Deanna said, “Just because I knew that Lieutenant Takota would give us a pop quiz—”
Renny’s eyes widened. “You knew?”
Oops! Deanna winced at her own poor choice of words. “I mean … I expected one. Takota’s the type to give pop quizzes, that’s obvious.”
Renny’s expression indicated that it had not been obvious to him.
“Look,” Deanna said, “I really do have to get to my next class.” She made a hasty retreat, thinking, Shields, Deanna! Block his emotions. Don’t let him get to you.
But Renny wasn’t finished. “Deanna, wait!” He caught up with her, stepped in her path, and forced her to stop. “Just look at it from my point of view—”
“It seems to me, Mr. Renny, that your point of view focuses on excuses, not performance,” Deanna said frostily. “I may not be a quantum mechanics major, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“But you’re rich,” Renny countered. “They say you got special tutoring just to get into the Academy. And I looked you up—your father was in Starfleet and your mother has Federation connections. Look, all I’m trying to say is, you have an advantage and it’s not fair. How can I hope to compete with you?”
“You’re not supposed to compete with me,”
Deanna said, forcing her voice to remain calm as she backed away. “Now please leave me alone.” She whirled around and headed for the double doors leading to the xenosociology lecture hall.
“You just can’t see it from my point of view, can you?” Renny called after her. “Hey, I had to work my rear off to get here, while you—”
Deanna finally exploded. She whipped around and faced Renny for what she hoped would be the last time. “I am not a cheater! I do not read minds to get good grades. I gained admittance to Starfleet Academy because I deserved it, and neither my father nor my mother had anything whatsoever to do with it.” And with that, Deanna banged through the door leading to the lecture hall.
And saw Lwaxana Troi standing on the dais, smiling at her.
Deanna’s jaw dropped, and so did the padd in her hand.
CHAPTER
3
Cargo Freighter
Alpha Quadrant, Sector C
Deanna’s jaw dropped in surprise as the door of the service closet whooshed open. Bright light from the corridor spilled into her dark little sanctuary, and she recoiled from the glare, groping blindly for a weapon. Her fingers curled around the handle of a heavy antigrav wand, and despite her momentary blindness she lunged out into the corridor, swinging.
Something very strong jerked the wand out of her grasp. “N’ghu ke!” an Orion shouted.
Deanna’s arms were wrenched behind her back, and her wrists were tied with what felt like leather thongs. She winced but made no sound as the Orion who’d spoken, clearly the leader of the pirates, slowly circled her. She made out more of his features and clothing as her eyes adjusted to the bright light of the corridor.
The humanoid Orions weren’t tall, nor were they particularly massive. But there was a sense of solidity about them which suggested that nothing short of a Brikarian wrestler could push them off-balance. They all wore similar clothing—pants and vests of a thick leatherlike material, cut and arranged like armor plating, and heavy boots. Their black hair was long and tangled, their skin was green, and they apparently didn’t value personal hygiene. Deanna almost gagged as the Orion pirate captain leaned close and rasped, “Starfleet ensign. I am Captain Chogu.”
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #12: Breakaway Page 2