Only once they were clear of the Mesea Storm, done with the Ihhliae, done with extracting the Borg data node, did Thawn have time to worry about anything else. Kally wasn’t top of her list, but she was the nearest person on her list, and when Thawn’s bridge shift finished, she went directly to the comms station. ‘Kally, have you got a minute?’

‘For you, Lieutenant?’ The young Ithenite brightened despite her obvious fatigue. ‘Always!’

Is there anyone you don’t have a minute for? Normally, Thawn would have found this perpetual perkiness grating. But it was difficult to be frustrated with Kally. ‘I wanted to check something with you – it could be nothing.’ She leaned against the railing and handed over a PADD. ‘It’s our computer processing records when we were hailed by the Ihhliae after we were hit by that ion storm. It looks a lot like a spike in our comms systems. More than should be there.’

‘Huh. It does at that. I don’t remember seeing anything.’ Kally spun on her chair, elevated so she could easily reach the controls, and brought up records. ‘I don’t see anything but the Ihhliae checking in with us if we needed help. Could this be something else?’

‘Very believably,’ sighed Thawn. ‘I’d been drawing a lot on emergency power…’

‘And you’d just reallocated power back. We had to punch through interference to get a clear signal to the Ihhliae. That could explain it.’ Kally didn’t sound fully convinced, but she didn’t sound particularly concerned, either. ‘We still don’t know much about this phenomenon. Do you want me to dig into it?’

‘No. It’s probably nothing.’ All manner of fluctuations in their systems could account for it; she’d only wanted to know if Kally had something in her records. ‘I’ll look closer myself.’

‘Okay, Lieutenant. But, uh.’ Kally winced. ‘You look tired. We’ll have ages to go through this data, and we’re leaving the plasma field behind.’

Knowing what was next on her priority list, Thawn almost objected. But that would be an excuse and an evasion, so she instead thanked Kally and headed for the turbolift. It was not to her quarters she went, however, but far deeper into the ship.

The doors to the SOC did not open on her approach, the display panel notifying her of the centre’s lockdown while sensitive data was being handled. She almost gave up again, but steeled herself and hit the button for a polite request for entry. If she was rebuffed, she would leave. Then she couldn’t say she hadn’t tried.

But moments later the doors did slide open, and when she entered, Beckett’s expression was sheepish as he saw her. ‘You’re fine,’ he said. ‘I was reading some reports; nothing that couldn’t wait.’

Intellectually, Thawn knew that classified reports right now were more likely to do with Borg encounters on the other side of the galaxy that didn’t affect her. Her gut nevertheless twisted at the idea of this many professional secrets he had to keep from her. On top of the personal ones. It meant her opening was more blunt than she might have liked when she said, ‘Is it stuff in there that made you yell at the captain?’

Beckett’s face dropped. ‘I didn’t yell. Somebody’s got to…’ His voice trailed off, and he stepped away from the main display towards her. ‘I’m in a weird spot as Chief Intelligence Officer. I have responsibilities outside of the ship. It’s literally my job to remind the crew about wider concerns than the situation in front of us. But I did get – maybe I…’ He stumbled over his words, then stopped and took a deep breath. ‘I got nervous. Didn’t handle it well.’

The situation had been tense; tense enough that Thawn’s recollection of exactly what was said or how it was said was, for certain, hazy. She’d had a myriad of concerns even before he’d confronted Valance. It was very, very easy to believe him. ‘You’re saying you were playing devil’s advocate, and the situation got away from you?’

He hesitated, picking up on her tension. ‘What’re you saying?’

Twisting her fingers together, she stepped forward. ‘That I think you meant what you were saying. That you were nervous, yes, but you were also desperate.’

‘Are you…’ He stiffened. ‘Did you read my mind?’

‘No!’ She realised only as she said it that the vehemence of this denial was about to seem two-faced to a non-Betazoid, and winced. ‘I didn’t read your thoughts. I sensed your feelings.’

‘And that’s better? I thought Betazoids didn’t do those invasions of privacy to aliens!’ In her silence, his outrage only grew, and Beckett waved a hand at the muted holographic display. ‘Why don’t you check in on what I’m feeling about the classified reports I just read? Get us a little breach of regulations on top of all this!’

‘I didn’t try to,’ she protested.

‘Oh, okay, you didn’t try to invade my privacy, it just happened…’

But there it was, amidst the roiling indignation. Sincere as it was, she could almost taste the kernel of relief – like she’d offered him a chance at deflection, and he’d taken it. Guiltily, Thawn closed her eyes. ‘Nate, can I explain?’

‘Why bother? Why don’t I just read your thoughts – oh wait, I can’t!’

The hint of petulance at least brought her a spark of frustration. She opened her eyes. ‘It’s really hard for a non-Betazoid to understand.’

Beckett gave an exaggerated, tired sigh as he set his fists on his hips and looked away. ‘Guess that yet again makes me a strange consolation prize to -’

‘I mean that reading you is sometimes like breathing, Nate!’ Hands clenched, she moved to be in his eye-line, desperate for him to see her, hear her. This silenced him for a moment with surprise and confusion, and she had to press on. ‘I do shut my senses out. From everyone. I have since I left Betazed. And it was like… blinding myself. It’s not like that for every Betazoid, but I’m a really powerful telepath, Nate, and so it had to be all or nothing. For ten years. It’s hard now for me to open myself back up, even to other Betazoids, sometimes.’ Her chest was heaving as if explaining this took running a marathon. ‘There’s a lot of reasons I’m the way I am – I know I’m difficult, I know I’m not easy to like, but some of that is honestly because it’s like I’ve tied one hand behind my back when talking to people.’

She knew, even to herself, she was talking around the core of the problem – both with them, and herself. The exquisite agony of being a Betazoid, a culture embedded with honesty and communication and embracing one’s feelings, only to be tied up by the needs and expectations not only of the rest of the galaxy, but her family – her duty. But this wasn’t about that, which made it easier to press on. She would rather explain this situation right here, right now, a hundred times over than think too hard about the family who had made her this way.

‘It’s different with you. I told you, back on Gateway when we left, that I could find you in the dark. That’s something I can control, yes. I’m not… I promise I’m not reading you constantly, sensing your feelings and your thoughts. But you need to understand that takes a conscious effort. If I’m stressed, or if I’m tired, or if I’m worried…’ She tilted her head to catch his eye, and found him quiet, startled. ‘I don’t hear your thoughts. But if I let my guard down, I feel you as easy as breathing.’

His shoulders fell, and she felt the perfect irony of the moment. In reaching out to him, now, she had to keep her guard up so she didn’t read him. She had to steel herself when trying to build their connection in case she bull-rushed over his boundaries. At length, he spoke, voice quiet. ‘Is it like that with everyone?’

Despite herself, she gave a frustrated huff. ‘You know it’s not.’

That brought a flicker to his lips, a wry acknowledgement. He shifted his feet and mumbled, ‘I don’t like the idea that you’ve got to… tie yourself up like that around me.’

‘I don’t like it either,’ she admitted. ‘But it’s the reality of being a Betazoid away from my people. Being in a relationship with a non-telepath.’

He was silent for a moment longer, clearly thinking. ‘It’s like… deafening yourself?’ She nodded, and he shifted again. ‘I really don’t like asking you to do that.’

‘It’s that, or I…’ She sighed. ‘I read your feelings as easy as hearing your words, and you can’t do the same for me.’ It wasn’t wholly true. She’d heard of inter-species relationships where the bond from the Betazoid could become so strong, they projected their feelings to the other person on a subconscious basis. But that was a deep, cavernous level of intimacy, and she did not think it was guaranteed.

‘And you knew this?’ He caught her eye again. ‘Before you came with me to Synnef?’

She continued twisting her fingers together. ‘I’d be lying if I said difficulties like this were the main reason I was pushing us away. But it was part of why I was afraid. Yes.’

He sighed and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Can I… I know that’s not what you came here to talk about. You’re right, there was more on my mind than being nervous about challenging Valance. But can I ask you to trust me?’

Thawn gave an awkward nod. ‘Is this something about your job? You don’t have to answer -’

‘It is,’ he said with a flash of guilty relief. ‘It’s not about me hiding things from you. It’s about the Chief Intelligence Officer not being able to explain himself.’

‘That’s something we’re going to have to learn to navigate.’

‘It is. So, can we… park that? Until this mission is over?’ Thawn gave another mute nod, and he sighed with relief. ‘I guess we’re not in much of a state to talk about… this… right now, either,’ he said, gesturing between them. ‘I don’t even know how long I’ll be gone on the Excalibur. But what do I do to make this as easy as possible?’

‘I know there’s a difference between you lying to me, and you not volunteering every single thought and feeling you have. I want to try, I want to do my best, to respect your privacy. So, I guess…’ Thawn sighed. ‘If I ask you about something directly like this, please don’t lie to me? It’s okay to say you can’t talk about it, or don’t want to talk about it, but…’

‘I can’t fib to you, even if I’m just not ready to talk about something,’ he concluded, nodding. ‘Okay. I’ll be honest. But that means I need you to not push if I don’t open up.’

‘Deal.’

His shoulders sank with relief, then he gestured back towards the central holographic display. ‘I do, uh, still have some work to do.’

‘That’s fine. I should check in on Elsa.’

‘Ask her about her pirate fella.’ Beckett grinned, then sobered. ‘We’re okay?’

For half a heartbeat, she considered asking him about the processing spike. This was, she knew, instinct; nothing she’d seen or sensed of him gave her any reason to ask. But perhaps there had been something about the comms of the Ihhliae – perhaps the intelligence officer needed to know.

Instead, she swallowed it. Smiled. And said, ‘We’re okay,’ before kissing him on the cheek and leaving.

Asking him to not lie to her was, after all, a lot more fair if she didn’t put him in situations where he had to.