“All of those conditions were corrected,” Tuvok insisted.

“Yes, but they left their scars. As did the extensive torture and hardship you recently endured at Romulan hands. You are still in the process of healing from that; your emotional control was tenuous for a Vulcan even before we encountered the jellies.” Tuvok said nothing, but he didn’t need to; his shame was redolent. “And even if you had mastered the emotional trauma completely, it would still have left a physical spoor in your neurochemistry, as did all the other neurological traumas you’ve experienced. Your mind, my friend, bears a proud and admirable catalog of scars. You are a survivor, and should be esteemed for that, but being a survivor carries its costs. In this case, the inhibitor is simply limited in its ability to affect your particular neurochemistry. A purer, more innocent brain than yours, I could protect from the jellies’ passions. But with experience comes pain, Mr. Tuvok, and I cannot spare you from all of theirs. You will simply have to endure it. As you have endured far worse in your time.”

Tuvok’s eyes were hard to read, but his scent was an odd mix of gratitude and disappointment. “In that case, I have no choice but to remain relieved of duty.”

“Or you could simply accept the passions into you and bend them to your will.”

The Vulcan looked at him oddly. “I wish it could be that easy, Doctor.”

“Deanna, wait up!”

Troi held the lift doors and allowed Christine Vale to step in. “Bridge?” she asked.

“Yeah.” The car started into motion, but Vale spoke up. “Do you mind if we hold the lift for a moment? I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Not at all. Computer, hold.”

The lift came to a stop, and Vale spoke. “I wanted to apologize for the briefing the other day. I was a bit…confrontational toward you. Implying that you might’ve given sensitive information to the star-jellies. I know you wouldn’t really do that.”

Troi raised her brows. “How do you know I wouldn’t? Tuvok almost did.”

Vale stared at her. “Are you saying you might?”

“That’s not the question. The question is whether you think I might. If you feel there’s a legitimate concern, Christine, you shouldn’t deny it to protect my feelings.”

“Okay,” Vale said after a moment. “Frankly I did have some concern about that. But it’s the way I think. It’s my training—I worry about security risks. I knew you wouldn’t betray your duties under normal circumstances, but from what I understood about the power of their emotions, how strongly they make you identify with them, I couldn’t be sure.”

“Of course.”

“But it was Tuvok who broke, not you. That’s actually…well, pretty impressive. To have more control than a Vulcan. So I’m not worried about you anymore.”

“Except on general principles,” Troi said.

Vale stared. “What do you mean? Deanna, I don’t…”

“It’s all right, I understand. You see it as part of your job to make sure my relationship with Will doesn’t affect his command decisions. To be a balance to my influence, if necessary.”

“Yeah. Right. That’s just it,” Vale said, nodding. “I’m glad you understand. I just wanted it to be clear that there’s nothing personal about it.”

Yet that brought a disapproving look from Troi. “You’re doing it again, Christine.”

“Doing what?”

“Hiding what you really feel. If we’re to have a viable relationship, you mustn’t hesitate to be honest with me.”

“What—you think it ispersonal? Come on, Deanna, we’re friends. I like you, you know that.”

“I do, of course. And it’s mutual. But that doesn’t mean there can’t be tensions. Jealousies.”

Vale gaped at her. “You don’t mean—Deanna, I do notfeel that way about Will Riker!”

Deanna laughed. “Oh, no! No, of course not, that’s not what I meant. Believe me, I’d know if you did.” Vale was at once relieved and confused. “But you do feel that way about Jaza Najem, don’t you?”

Vale glared. “You know, those powers of yours can be a little invasive at times.”

“Christine, the only power I need to discern that is eyesight. And experience at observing humanoid behavior,” she added. “Don’t worry—I don’t think it’s obvious to everyone that you’ve slept together.”

Now she blushed. Just those who’ve seen us in the same room, I bet.“It was only the one time.”

Deanna studied her. “Why do you feel guilty about it?”

“I don’t! I’m not…We worked it out. It was a onetime thing, no strings, we’re both okay with that. It’s behind us.”

“So why does the subject make you so defensive?”

Vale started to protest, but realized that Deanna would coax it out of her with her relentless Socratic approach anyway. So she gathered herself and tried to think about it, to get ahead of Deanna and take an honest look at her motives. The counselor waited patiently as she did so. “Okay. I guess maybe I’m not entirely sure I wantit to be behind me. It was…if we weren’t coworkers, it was something I definitely would’ve pursued. So I can’t help wondering if I should pursue it anyway.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Well…a little scared. Dating a coworker…it’s risky. There’s so much that can go wrong. So many ways it can mess up the relationship, or the job. It’s a hard balance at best.”

Deanna nodded. “So I guess those risks are occupying your thoughts lately. The danger of a conflict of interest, of a relationship interfering with your professionalism.”

“Yeah.” She saw where Troi was going. “And you think I’m projecting that onto you and Will. Being hard on you because of it.”

“What do you think?”

Vale let out a frustrated puff of breath. “I think, frankly, Deanna, that I get a little tired of your smug certainty that you have all the answers. Of how—of how easy you make it look. Your job, your marriage, making them work together. Yeah, I am a little jealous of that. Every day I have to compete with you, and I don’t feel like I’m ahead of the game.”

“Compete with me?” This time her question actually seemed surprised, not just a therapist’s prompt. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that six months ago I was a lieutenant, a security chief. I never expected to be on the command track, let alone to be a first officer so soon. But here I am, thrust into it practically out of nowhere. That leaves me with a lot to prove. To myself, to my crewmates, to Starfleet. I’m still figuring out how to do this job, let alone how to balance it with a relationship.

“But a lot of the things that are supposed to be part of my job—managing the crew’s affairs, leading away missions—you have a hand in those too. I rarely feel like I’m doing any of it on my own. And you’ve known Will so much longer, have decades of experience with him. I’m the first officer, I’m supposed to be Will’s partner…but you’ve been his partner a lot longer, in a much deeper way. You automatically have his ear—hell, you have his mind’sear. A lot of the time, on the bridge, when he’s trying to make a decision, he looks to you before he looks to me. And if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were literally communing telepathically.”

For the first time in this conversation, Deanna looked uneasy. “To be honest…that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“I didn’t know you could do that!”

“Normally I can’t with a non-Betazoid. But Will and I…partly it’s the intimacy of our bond, and partly just that our minds have somehow always been more in tune than most. It’s something that’s gotten stronger since we were married.”

Vale absorbed it. “Well. I appreciate you telling me. Now will you tell me how I’m supposed to compete with that?”

Deanna touched her arm reassuringly. “It’s just another form of communication, Christine. You have as much power to influence his decisions as I do. Probably more, because he strives to keep the proper chain of command in mind when he’s on the bridge. All else being equal, he’d probably choose to give your advice more weight than mine at any given time.”