“So, Nathan, you may as well go ahead and ask me about my first husband and my first daughter, since that’s what you’ve wanted to ask ever since I told you when we moved to this house.”

  Chuckling, Nathan reached into the pocket of his sweater and pulled out some kind of gadget or other, which Lwaxana knew would record their conversation.

  When Nathan and Elaine first moved to Betazed three years ago, it was for Elaine’s work: she was an architect and, in Lwaxana’s admittedly amateur if still very well-informed opinion, a rather good one. She was heading up the design team for a small village being built along Lake Cataria, meant to accommodate the greater number of people coming to live on Betazed over these past few decades. Lwaxana had always taken pride in the planet’s growing reputation as one of the garden spots of the Federation, crediting her own tireless goodwill efforts over the years to help promote that reputation.

  Elaine had feared that the outbreak of the Dominion War nine months earlier would mean the work would come to a halt, but it was close enough to finished that the planetary government permitted it to continue. Lwaxana knew that this relieved Elaine, but the fear that the project would end prematurely lingered.

  In the meantime, her husband, a writer, was working on a book about prominent Federation figures. The one change that the war had brought on was that travel was more hazardous than Nathan was entirely comfortable with. While Nathan’s father was a Starfleet captain, commanding the U.S.S. da Vinci, Nathan himself preferred to avoid even the possibility of encountering the conflict. He instead decided to work specifically on the chapters relating to the subject of his that was on the same planet as he was: Lwaxana.

  “All right, we’re recording.” Nathan leaned back on the couch, his arms again resting on his lap. “And yeah, you’re right, soon as you said almost forty years ago, I immediately thought of your first husband and first daughter. Did you move here after Kestra died?”

  It was rare that Lwaxana ever felt the need to compose herself before she spoke, but she did right now. It was still so difficult to speak of Kestra…

  Finally, she began. “There was a time, not very long ago, when the answer to that question would’ve been ‘Kestra who? My only daughter is my darling Deanna.’ Kestra died in a terrible accident when she was six. I was so distraught, I—I pretended she didn’t exist. I erased all memory of her, I eliminated all my diary entries from the day I learned I was pregnant with her to the day she died, I—” She hesitated, remembering the look on Deanna’s face on the Enterprise when she found out only four years ago. “I kept her existence from her sister. It was foolish of me, I know that now, of course, but at the time, it seemed the only thing to do. Kestra was so full of joy.”

  “Kids’re great that way.”

  “I’m sure you both take great pride in Danielle and Simone,” Lwaxana said, referring to Nathan and Elaine’s two grown daughters, both of whom leapt to the forefront of the humans’ thoughts the instant Lwaxana started speaking of Kestra. “But it’s so much more with us. When you’re a telepath, you don’t just see the children’s happiness, you feel it.” She took a breath. “And you feel it even more when they die. So much so that it becomes much easier to deny reality than it is to actually deal with the death.”

  Elaine leaned forward, untucking her legs, and putting a hand on Lwaxana’s arm. “I’m sorry. My husband’s an idiot; we can change the subject.”

  “Hey!”

  Mr. Homn virtually glided into the room, holding a tray in one giant hand, and offering Lwaxana a handkerchief with the other.

  Lwaxana gratefully accepted the handkerchief, and dabbed her eyes to absorb the tears that were welling up. “Thank you, Mr. Homn. And it’s fine, Elaine; your husband isn’t an idiot.” She forced herself to smile. “No more than most men, anyhow.”

  “Hey!”

  Mr. Homn placed the tray on the glass coffee table that sat on the Eridat rug between the sofa and the conformer chair. Lwaxana immediately grabbed an oscoid shell and sucked down the luscious fish.

  While she ate the oscoid, Mr. Homn tapped the side of the glass containing her sunet, turning the clear liquid to a many-hued drink that matched the sunsets on Samaria. Then the valet continued laying out the food.

  Lwaxana continued. “It’s good to talk about it. To remind myself of what a fool I was. What I denied poor Deanna. And especially Ian. I never really gave him the chance to grieve for Kestra. Then he was taken from me…”

  His distribution completed, Mr. Homn stood and looked inquisitively at Lwaxana. She sensed his thoughts: Will you need anything else?

  “That’ll be all for now.” As the tall valet drifted out of the room, Lwaxana said to Nathan, “Wonderful servant, Mr. Homn.”

  Elaine swallowed a leaf. “You were certainly right about his salad. How long has he been with you?”

  “Since I was forced to fire his predecessor, Mr. Xelo. The man was thinking such foul, lascivious thoughts about me that I simply could not take it anymore, and—” She cut herself off, closed her eyes. “No. No, that’s not fair. What was it I said about denying reality instead of dealing with death?” She took a long breath. “The fact is, I found out that Mr. Xelo had hidden away some keepsakes of Kestra’s. It was something he and Ian had done after she died, in the hopes that I would—come around. I found it one day when I was looking for something, and I—I blew up at him.” She snorted. “I almost fried his brain, the poor man. I got rid of everything he had kept and fired him on the spot. Then I made up that whole sexual thoughts nonsense. Well,” she added with a smile, “I didn’t make it up completely, he did have occasional thoughts in that direction, but it’s nothing I’m not accustomed to. Anyhow, he got rid of almost everything, and left. The only thing he saved was one picture of Ian, Deanna, and Kestra that I took right after Deanna was born. He gave it to Mr. Homn, and Mr. Homn gave it to me after I finally—finally admitted to Kestra’s existence.” Lwaxana dabbed her eye with the handkerchief once again.

  Nathan carried a genuine regret for this entire line of questioning, and it was with that regret in his thoughts that he asked: “How did you meet Ian?” Or, rather, he asked, “Hm dud yuh mitt in?” since his mouth was full of corned beef, melted espra cheese, and bread when he did so.

  All three people in the room felt a wave of relief at the change of subject. Lwaxana hadn’t intended this interview to be so—so heavy. “He was the head of the Starfleet team that installed our orbital defense grid. This was—” she thought a moment “—forty-seven years ago. Such a darling man. Reittan Grax introduced us—he was the liaison between Strafleet and the parliament. And, if I do say so myself, my darling Ian did an excellent job. Our orbital defenses were the envy of the sector.”

  “Bet they still are.”

  “Well, probably not to the same extent.” Lwaxana immediately recalled the recent arguments in the parliament building, arguments in which she’d played a prominent role. So, for that matter, had Grax. “They’ve been talking about upgrading the system since the war started, which strikes me as a waste of time.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  A nontelepath might have taken umbrage at Nathan’s question, but Lwaxana knew that his query was without malice, simply an honest request for information. “What would be the point? They’ve even constructed shelters under the Loneel Mountains, as if we were already under siege. It’s just completely ridiculous, and I see no reason for us to get excessively paranoid. Why, even if the Dominion wanted to attack us—and I honestly can’t think of a good reason why they’d go after Betazed over some other Federation world—we’re protected by the Tenth Fleet. I’ve known Admiral Masc for years—he’s the head of the Tenth Fleet. He served with my daughter fifteen years ago. Good man, if a little too scared of commitment. Anyhow, he’ll protect us.”

  “Scared of commitment—that certainly isn’t something that’d apply to you. You’ve been married, what, three times?”

  “Strictly speaking, yes. I came close on a couple of other occasions—they’re both dead now. Campio died last year of natural causes, but he and I weren’t really—compatible. As for Timicin…” Lwaxana’s mind drifted, remembering the most beautiful mind she’d ever encountered. She’d known Timicin such a short time, and yet she felt his loss as keenly as she did that of Ian and Kestra. “Timicin was a great man, a scientist, a man of subdued passion.”

  “Okay, you lost me there.”

  Lwaxana chuckled. “I suppose that doesn’t really follow, does it? It’s hard to explain to a nontelepath, but he had a quiet intensity about him.” She took a refreshing sip of her sunset. All this talking was making her parched. “It’s funny, but if you asked me to describe what he looked like, I’m not sure I could, but I remember his mind so clearly.”

  “Doesn’t that disturb you a little? That you can’t remember his face?”

  Shrugging, Lwaxana said, “Well, it’s not that important. His face. You’re thinking like a mundane, dear. Looks aren’t everything—unless you’re me, of course. Somebody once told me, after we’d been married about five years, that Ian had a kind face. And once it was pointed out to me, I realized that it was true, but I’d never noticed that about him until then.”

  “Interesting.” And, unlike when most humans used that word in such context, Nathan really did find it interesting. Lwaxana tensed as she prepared herself for his next question. “What about your other two husbands? A Tavnian named Jeyel and the changeling Odo. Which, by the way, makes you five for five—three husbands, two almosts-but-not-quites, and not a single Betazoid in the bunch.”

  “Oh, there are a lot more than two almosts-but-not-

  quites,” she said with a laugh, thinking of Jean-Luc and so many others. “But, to answer the question you didn’t ask, I suppose I tend to gravitate toward non-Betazoids because they’re more of a challenge. There’s very little privacy on Betazed—”

  “We know.” Nathan spoke with great emphasis, and Lwaxana saw in his thoughts how aghast he was when Elaine explained how few doors there were in Betazoid architecture.

  “You have to understand, dear, we can see into each other’s thoughts. Physicality is hardly taboo when the mind is an open book. But that also means that with a Betazoid man, I pretty much always know what I’m going to get.”

  “I know that you ended your marriage to Jeyel because of custody issues—why did you annul your subsequent marriage to Odo? Was it because of the war? After all, Odo may be on our side, but he is of the same species as the Dominion’s Founders.”

  “Nathan, dear, I may be a politican, but I don’t do anything for political reasons. Life’s too short. No, Odo is a dear dear friend, and I wish him the—”

  “I am dead.”

  “Lwaxana?”

  “Hm?”

  “You cut yourself off. What do you wish him?” Nathan asked.

  “I go into battle to reclaim my life.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought I heard—something.”

  “This I do gladly, for I am Jem’Hadar.”

  “Anyhow, I know Odo and his friends on that space station of theirs are fighting the good fight in this war, and I’m sure they’ll lead us to—”

  “Victory is life.”

  “VICTORY IS LIFE!”

  “Lwaxana? Lwaxana!”

  Dimly, Lwaxana registered that she was now lying on the Eridat rug, having been suddenly overwhelmed by the thoughts of thousands of Jem’Hadar soldiers uttering their prebattle mantra simultaneously. Nathan and Elaine were standing over her.

  The only way she could have sensed that many Jem’Hadar that clearly was if they were right on top of Betazed.

  “They’re coming,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Who’s coming?”

  Lwaxana ignored them, and focused all the energy she could on a telepathic cry to Kan Mryax, the woman in charge of maintaining the orbital defenses. They’re coming!

  We’re already on it. We’ll take care of them.

  Mryax’s thoughts were terse, and carried none of the confidence Lwaxana was hoping for.

  “Lwaxana, what’s wrong?”

  She finally focused on her two guests, who knew only that their host suddenly collapsed onto the rug in mid-sentence and started whispering gibberish. “I’m sorry, Nathan, Elaine, please—could you help me up?”

  Before they could do anything, she felt the soothing presence of Mr. Homn entering the room, taking her gently by the shoulders, and guiding her to her feet.

  “Thank you Mr. Homn. Please, go check on Barin.”

  He nodded and took his leave.

  “I’m afraid that the Dominion is attacking. They—”

  Mryax grits her teeth as she activates the defense systems and sends out a general distress call. The phasers cannot penetrate the Jem’Hadar shields, and are doing only minimal damage to the Cardassian ones. The ships keep moving closer.

  “Where the hell is the Tenth Fleet?”

  Admiral Masc is in the midst of supervising a training exercise when the distress call comes in.

  “Why the hell didn’t Intelligence warn us of this?”

  A Vorta named Luaran basks in the ineffectiveness of Betazed’s orbital defenses. It is as the intelligence reports stated: Betazed is populated by pacifists and fools who, like so many other members of this weak Federation, believe themselves to live in a peaceful galaxy.

  “How much longer before we can land troops?”

  Gul Lemec’s smile grows as wide as his face. Ever since the embarrassing defeat at Minos Corva, he’s been waiting for an opportunity to conquer the Federation, and here he is at the vanguard of this invasion. This is the farthest the Dominion has penetrated into Federation space since the war started. He is going to enjoy subjugating these telepathic cowards…

  “Bring us about for another pass!”

  “Lwaxana, what’s happening?”

  Shaking her head, Lwaxana tried to focus on Elaine and Nathan, but she couldn’t. Instead, she was assaulted by the eagerness of the Cardassian soldiers to stomp on the planet (such joy they took in being the conquerors), the zealous single-mindedness of the Jem’Hadar prepared to do their duty to their gods (truly the perfect soldiers, how could anyone stand against that?), the calm assurance of the Vorta directing the battle (so smug, so sure of themselves), the anger, embarrassment, and panic on the part of the Starfleet officers caught with their proverbial pants down (as well they should be, the dolts!)…

  But most of all, she felt the rising panic of her fellow Betazoids.

  “We’re being invaded.”

  The look of horror on Elaine’s face matched her thoughts, which had turned decidedly dark—and frightened. “My God. We have to get to the shelters.”

  “So much for excessive paranoia,” Nathan muttered.

  Lwaxana barely registered Nathan’s snide comment as she felt Mryax scream in her mind. Orbital Defense Control fell to pieces all around her, consoles exploding, shrapnel tearing into her flesh, Dominion weaponry ripping into the defenses and reducing them to nothingness.

  We’re being invaded! The Dominion (Hurry up!) is coming! Where is Starfleet? What’s (That’s impossible,) that noise? (the orbital defenses) The orbital defenses are down! (will stop them.) Did you hear something? We have to (What’s happening?) get to the shelters.

  I can hear the Jem’Hadar (Starfleet’s on its way) the Cardassians (I can feel Admiral Masc.) oh no, they’re coming! Get to (Hurry! What was that?) the shelters. Do you (Don’t worry, I’m sure the orbital defenses and Starfleet) sense something? (can stop them easily. It’s what) We’ve got to get (they do, protect us from threats.) out of here before they—

  “I have Barin. We must go.”

  The soft, whisper-like voice of Mr. Homn cut through the telepathic chatter and got Lwaxana’s attention. The valet carried the child with his left arm. The boy was sound asleep, resting against Mr. Homn’s massive shoulder. In the other hand, Mr. Homn held a suitcase.

  Elaine looked up in shock at Mr. Homn. “He talks?”

  Lwaxana forced down the voices in her head, even as they rose to an appalling crescendo. “Of course he talks, dear.”

  Nathan muttered, “Probably just can’t get a word in. We need to get to those shelters.”

  “Agreed,” Lwaxana said. “I just hope you packed enough, Mr. Homn. Though it shouldn’t be too long. I can sense Admiral Masc getting closer. I’m sure he’ll take care of everything in very short order. Those Dominion reptiles won’t be able to stand against—”

  “Fire on the capital city now.”

  “Oh no…”

  The ground shook, knocking Lwaxana to the floor. She reached out mentally to see how her son was, but Barin was still asleep. She had joked just the other day that the sweet child could sleep through anything. Now it seemed that would be put to the test.

  Lwaxana focused all her concentration, all her thoughts, all her energy on keeping her telepathic shields up. Normally, she didn’t concern herself with the background noise of all the minds around her, but now it was everything she could do to keep them out. Because if she didn’t…

  …she could feel the white-hot agony of one woman as shrapnel from an explosion ripped through her torso…

  …the fear of one man as he lost track of his son in the suddenly panicking crowds in the midst of the capital city who found the sky filled with Jem’Hadar strike ships…

  …the dying minds of the hundreds of people in the nearby Art Institute as it was hit with weapons fire, obliterating entire floors of the ancient structure that had stood for centuries…

  …the screams of the dying…

  …the fear of the living…

  …the pain of the injured and maimed…

  …the sound of the weapons fire mixing with the rending of matter under its onslaught…

  …the screams of everyone around her…

  …Barin, waking up and wondering why the world was coming apart…

  …Nathan, the ceiling collapsing right on his head, caving in his skull, his final thoughts of his children, whom he’d never see again…