Elias Vaughn sipped his single-malt Scotch as he stood on the periphery of the crowd. He saw several familiar faces at the reception, but thankfully no one he knew well enough to actually talk to. Some nodded their heads at him, others ignored him. None came to talk to him, which suited him fine. He was just marking time until the transport arrived in any case. The reception was unusually quiet, as most of those present were telepaths, and so defaulted to talking among themselves psionically.
Finagling the invitation to this reception was the only way Vaughn could justify the trip to Betazed without it getting in the way of the mission he and T’Prynn were about to go on in the Arvada system. But it was something he felt the need to do now, before Arvada III, in case that mission went bad.
Vaughn wasn’t even sure what the reception was for—all he knew was that Uhura got him on the guest list.
“Well, well, well, look who’s here.”
Closing his eyes, Vaughn thought, Not him. Why did he have to be here?
Giving in to the inevitable, he turned to see the familiar smug face, irritating smile, shock of white hair, and black spots of Curzon Dax. He was dressed in an ankle-length blue jacket decorated with some kind of sun-and-moon pattern over a white shirt and black pants.
“Ambassador,” he said with a minimal inclination of his head. As Dax approached, Vaughn caught a whiff of allira punch. Wistfully, Vaughn remembered that Ian Troi was rather fond of that stuff—in fact, it was at the reception on the Carthage eighteen years ago that he introduced Vaughn to the beverage. Seeing Dax drink it now seemed wrong to Vaughn.
“Have to admit to being surprised to see you here, Vaughn. You never really struck me as the partying type.”
“I have some personal business to take care of on Betazed.” That was as much as he was willing to share.
“Fair enough. It seems to be a day for surprises. I thought for sure that Lwaxana Troi would be present—I’m told she never misses a party—but she’s not around, either.” Dax hesiated, then took a sip of his punch. “Listen, I’m glad you’re here, actually. I was so caught up in the political nonsense on Qo’noS after we left the Great Hall I never had a chance to thank you.”
Vaughn almost choked on his Scotch. “Excuse me?” Curzon Dax is actually expressing gratitude? To me?
“Well, for your help, for one thing,” Dax said with a smile. No doubt he’s enjoying my discomfiture. “Your tracking down those records proved to be a very handy bargaining chip. I think it’s safe to say that relations with the Empire are stronger than ever.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “I have to ask, Commander—how did you obtain that information?”
Rather than answer, Vaughn simply stared at the older Trill.
“All right, fine, don’t tell me. I suppose it’s probably safer this way. In any case, I’m also grateful to you for seeking me out on Risa two years ago. I have to admit, I let the entire Raknal V situation get away from me. I should have been keeping a closer eye on things. Hell, I should never have proposed that solution in the first place.”
“Not that I don’t agree—” Vaughn started.
Dax grinned. “Considering that you said so from the beginning.”
“—but why do you say that?”
“I thought I understood how to make both sides talk to each other, but I couldn’t have misjudged the Cardassians more if I tried. Klingons thrive on that sort of competition, but the Cardassians think it’s their destiny to overrun the galaxy. I’m not even sure they have a concept of competition. They just prefer to run roughshod over everything. As for the Klingons …” He smiled. “If I’ve learned nothing else over the years, it’s that the only people who can deal with Klingons are Klingons.”
“That’s very profound, Ambassador,” Vaughn said, almost meaning it.
“Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander Vaughn?”
Vaughn turned at the new voice, which belonged to a young woman with dark black eyes. “Yes?”
“Your transport is ready.”
Dax gave a small bow. “I assume this is your personal business. I will leave you to it. Safe journeys, Commander. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day.”
I sincerely hope not, Vaughn thought. Not quite impolitic enough to say that, but not trustful enough of himself to say anything else, Vaughn simply returned the bow, then followed the Betazoid woman to the transport.
Lwaxana had said she would meet him there. Deanna was not coming along, as the ten-year-old girl did not like to go to that place. Lwaxana probably left her with Mr. Xelo.
Leaving the reception behind, Elias Vaughn got into the transport that would take him to the grave of Ian Troi.