Let us show you to your quarters." "Excellent idea, Captain," said Lwaxana Troi, still looking daggers at Data. Data, for his part, remained serenely oblivious.
Mr. Homn bent to take her bags, but Lwaxana immediately put a hand up. "Now, Mr.
Homn," she scolded, "we are guests on this ship, and as I know from experience, the captain wouldn't dream of allowing guests to carry their own luggage." "Want me to transport it to their quarters, sir?" said O'Brien.
Picard glanced at his transporter chief.
From the look in O'Brien's eyes, Picard had the distinct impression that O'Brien might "accidentally" materialize the luggage in orbit somewhere.
"Not necessary, Mr. O'Brien," said Picard with relaxed pleasantness, because he had anticipated this. "Mr. Data, if you wouldn't mind..." "Not at all, Captain." Data stooped and easily hefted all the luggage. "Is there any more?" he asked politely.
Lwaxana shook her head in amazement. She knew that Data was an android, but nevertheless, his build was so unassuming that it had never occurred to her just how strong he might be.
Picard smiled inwardly. The only other person who could have so easily handled Lwaxana Troi's formidable wardrobe was Worf. Somehow he couldn't see asking the Klingon to carry Mrs.
Troi's luggage. Picard did not doubt for a moment Worf's loyalty or dependability.
By the same token, it was madness to tempt fate.
The first time he'd encountered Mrs. Troi, he had graciously offered to tote her bags and almost thrown his back out as a result. The second time, Riker did the honors, and Picard had never heard his first officer grunt in quite that way.
This time, Picard was prepared.
As usually happened when Deanna's mother showed up, it appeared that a chesslike battle of wits was about to begin on the Enterprise. In a perverse sort of way, Picard almost welcomed it. It was stimulating to try and keep one step ahead of the formidable Lwaxana Troi.
By the same token, he could have done without the effort, and certainly hoped that nothing else would arise to further distract him from the pleasant business of uniting two young people.
Deanna barely waited until Riker, Picard, and Data had left her mother's guest quarters before she turned towards Lwaxana, her slim body shaking with barely contained fury.
"Mother," she began dangerously.
Lwaxana barely seemed to be paying attention as Mr. Homn began to unpack for her. "Now, what for the first reception?" she wondered out loud.
"The black with the green stripe or the black with the red stripe?" Deanna walked around to face her mother. "This is intolerable." Now Lwaxana looked at her, a mixture of bemusement and tragedy in those large eyes that were so like her daughter's. I am sorry you're so upset, Little One, her mother thought at her.
"Stop calling me "Little One"!" said Deanna fiercely. "You owe me an explanation!" I didn't quite hear you.
Deanna blew air through thinned lips. You owe me an explanation, she projected to her mother.
Lwaxana gave a small smile. "So you can still send. Just wanted to make sure." "You wanted to quiet me down," Deanna told her.
"Whatever. Now, Lit--Deanna--you have to understand, my hands are tied. There's nothing I can do. Tradition is tradition." "It's a tradition," Deanna said, sitting down nearby, trying to compose herself, "that hasn't been really in use for two centuries. It's provincial, even archaic." "I have certain responsibilities, my dear," Lwaxana informed her haughtily. "Perhaps others can ignore the Ab'brax, and heaven knows I would if I could. But being a daughter of the fifth house carries with it tremendous responsibilities. And one of those responsibilities is to uphold all the traditions of Betazed." "No matter how ridiculous, or how embarrassing. Mother, the Ab'brax...!" Lwaxana shrugged. "Take it as seriously or
Mr. Homn bent to take her bags, but Lwaxana immediately put a hand up. "Now, Mr.
Homn," she scolded, "we are guests on this ship, and as I know from experience, the captain wouldn't dream of allowing guests to carry their own luggage." "Want me to transport it to their quarters, sir?" said O'Brien.
Picard glanced at his transporter chief.
From the look in O'Brien's eyes, Picard had the distinct impression that O'Brien might "accidentally" materialize the luggage in orbit somewhere.
"Not necessary, Mr. O'Brien," said Picard with relaxed pleasantness, because he had anticipated this. "Mr. Data, if you wouldn't mind..." "Not at all, Captain." Data stooped and easily hefted all the luggage. "Is there any more?" he asked politely.
Lwaxana shook her head in amazement. She knew that Data was an android, but nevertheless, his build was so unassuming that it had never occurred to her just how strong he might be.
Picard smiled inwardly. The only other person who could have so easily handled Lwaxana Troi's formidable wardrobe was Worf. Somehow he couldn't see asking the Klingon to carry Mrs.
Troi's luggage. Picard did not doubt for a moment Worf's loyalty or dependability.
By the same token, it was madness to tempt fate.
The first time he'd encountered Mrs. Troi, he had graciously offered to tote her bags and almost thrown his back out as a result. The second time, Riker did the honors, and Picard had never heard his first officer grunt in quite that way.
This time, Picard was prepared.
As usually happened when Deanna's mother showed up, it appeared that a chesslike battle of wits was about to begin on the Enterprise. In a perverse sort of way, Picard almost welcomed it. It was stimulating to try and keep one step ahead of the formidable Lwaxana Troi.
By the same token, he could have done without the effort, and certainly hoped that nothing else would arise to further distract him from the pleasant business of uniting two young people.
Deanna barely waited until Riker, Picard, and Data had left her mother's guest quarters before she turned towards Lwaxana, her slim body shaking with barely contained fury.
"Mother," she began dangerously.
Lwaxana barely seemed to be paying attention as Mr. Homn began to unpack for her. "Now, what for the first reception?" she wondered out loud.
"The black with the green stripe or the black with the red stripe?" Deanna walked around to face her mother. "This is intolerable." Now Lwaxana looked at her, a mixture of bemusement and tragedy in those large eyes that were so like her daughter's. I am sorry you're so upset, Little One, her mother thought at her.
"Stop calling me "Little One"!" said Deanna fiercely. "You owe me an explanation!" I didn't quite hear you.
Deanna blew air through thinned lips. You owe me an explanation, she projected to her mother.
Lwaxana gave a small smile. "So you can still send. Just wanted to make sure." "You wanted to quiet me down," Deanna told her.
"Whatever. Now, Lit--Deanna--you have to understand, my hands are tied. There's nothing I can do. Tradition is tradition." "It's a tradition," Deanna said, sitting down nearby, trying to compose herself, "that hasn't been really in use for two centuries. It's provincial, even archaic." "I have certain responsibilities, my dear," Lwaxana informed her haughtily. "Perhaps others can ignore the Ab'brax, and heaven knows I would if I could. But being a daughter of the fifth house carries with it tremendous responsibilities. And one of those responsibilities is to uphold all the traditions of Betazed." "No matter how ridiculous, or how embarrassing. Mother, the Ab'brax...!" Lwaxana shrugged. "Take it as seriously or
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