Morgan Lefler hated the common cold, for it was the one thing that even her immortal immune systems couldn't shrug off. Every terminal disease known to humanity, those meant nothing to her. But the damnable cold that she was currently suffering through was hammering her, and Morgan was not a particularly good sick person, since it happened to her so rarely. She tended to become somewhat fetal, lie about and complain incessantly. When she was sick, she felt as if she were in a deep hole that she would be trapped in the rest of her life. And considering the fact that she was -- to the best of her knowledge -- virtually immortal, the rest of her life tended to seem a very long time.

She could have consulted with Doctor Selar about it, but in many ways, being sick was preferable. Ever since she had reached the final weeks of her pregnancy, Selar -- never exactly renowned for her bedside manner -- had become more distant, unfeeling and cold than ever before. It was not as if she were incapable of carrying out her duties; she was as capable of diagnosis and treatment as ever. She was just... so damned unpleasant. Her speech pattern had become flat and mechanical -- even more mechanical than the computer. It was downright chilling just to be around her. Morgan didn't know whether all Vulcans were like that in the last stages of pregnancy, but if they were, then she pitied Vulcan husbands everywhere.

"No wonder Spock's father married an earth female," she murmured. "Probably went a long way toward saving his sanity." She hated the way her voice sounded. She hated the way her head was pounding. She hated herself.

At least Robin wasn't around to see it. She was busy at the banquet, which was enough to make Morgan insanely jealous. Here she was, flat on her back, and her daughter was organizing a wonderful, semiformal get-together designed to welcome the long lost sister of Si Cwan to the good ship Excalibur. All of the senior officers were going to be there and, frankly, it was going to be a good opportunity for Robin to impress her superior officers with her organizational skill. In a way, it seemed a rather trivial exercise. All the solid duties that Robin carried off in the course of a day should have been more than enough to warrant attention and promotion from the rank of ensign which she currently carried. Yet the simple truth was that people could be impressed by the damnedest things, and Captain Mackenzie Calhoun and Commander Elizabeth Shelby might be just as likely to find her duties as hostess as memorable as anything she did at ops. It didn't make any sense, but people were just funny that way.

Morgan could see the gathering in her mind's eye. There would be Calhoun and Shelby, bantering over brisket or some such preparation. Their attraction for each other was electric, and their knack for short-circuiting that same attraction was just amazing. And there would be Si Cwan, tall, noble and proud, with his young sister, Kalinda, next to him. Morgan had only caught a brief glimpse of her, having contracted her illness right after Kalinda ("Kally" as he called her) had come on board. The girl had looked older than she had originally envisioned her, equivalent to an earth child in her late teens instead of the very young girl that Si Cwan had always described. Morgan reflected that perhaps the way he described her was the way he saw her. She couldn't help but wonder whether that attitude might cause problems down the line.

This new fellow, Xyon, she hadn't seen at all. Supposedly he was the son of Captain Calhoun, but no one seemed to know quite what to make of that. Well, whatever the situation between them was, certainly it could all be worked out. Calhoun was nothing if not innovative when it came to the realm of personal relationships.

The door to the quarters slid open and Morgan, using what little energy she had, half propped herself up in her bed as she called out, "Robin! How did it go... honey..."

The term of endearment died in her throat as she saw the dishevelled condition of her daughter.

The front of Robin's dress uniform was covered in what appeared to be frosting. There was a small bruise on her forehead, and her hair -- which had been neatly arrayed in a very becoming 'do -- was hanging down around her face. Her expression was carefully stoic.

"It could have gone better," Robin said.

"My God! What happened?!"

Robin said nothing at first. Instead she walked across the room to the closet, from which she withdrew a towel. She used it to start wiping away the frosting from her uniform and the ends of her hair.

"Robin! Tell me what happened!"

"This," Robin said slowly, tapping the frosting which was now covering the towel, "was the welcome aboard cake. It had Xyon and Kalinda's names on it. Apparently, however, the cake also had my name on it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I was the one who wound up wearing a good deal of it, so that's why I said it had my name on it."

"I still don't understand..."

Robin sighed deeply as she peeled off her uniform to toss it into the ship's laundry. "There was some friction."

"Seems to me more like there was total combustion."

"Xyon," continued Robin, as if her mother had not spoken, "is having a bit of difficulty working and playing well with others."

"What others?"

"Captain Calhoun. Oh, and Si Cwan."

"What happened?" asked Morgan.

Robin sagged into a chair as she pulled on a short bathrobe. Her hair was still a mess, and the bruise was getting darker. She ran her fingers sadly through her hair and shook her head as she looked into a mirror and apparently wondered whether she was, in fact, the individual in the reflection. "It started nicely enough," she recounted. "Everyone was standing about, chatting. Everyone except Xyon. He didn't seem especially happy to be there. I went over to him and asked him if something was bothering him. He told me all he really wanted to do was get his ship fully repaired. Apparently his ship sustained some damage in escaping the nebula surrounding Star 7734, and there were some other repairs made to it that were simply stopgap in nature to begin with. His ship really needed an overhaul, and Captain Calhoun was more than happy to offer it since Xyon had been of such help in the entire Kalinda affair."

"So?" prompted Morgan.

"So he was spending the party keeping in a corner off to himself. In retrospect, if he'd just been left there by everyone, allowed to stew in his own juices and maybe be sociable on his own terms, then maybe matters would have turned out differently.

"But no, not our crew. First there's Captain Calhoun, trying to engage the boy in conversation. Now Xyon, he's making it clear to the captain that he's not interested in talking to him. Apparently there was some sort of falling out, or Xyon felt that Calhoun hadn't been much of a family, or something like that. In any event, Xyon was brushing him off. Everyone saw it. It was openly disrespectful. But it was obvious to everyone that the captain didn't want to make a big deal about it. That his attitude was, 'If this is how Xyon feels, I'm not going to fight with him about it. Let him work it out on his own.' Which was pretty sporting of him, if you ask me, considering that the first time they met each other, Xyon hauled off and slugged the captain."

"Yes, I know. Word of that spread rather quickly," Morgan said with a dry sense of irony. "Xyon was fortunate that the captain simply rubbed his chin and turned the other cheek, so to speak. I have no doubt that the captain could put him through a bulkhead if he were inclined to do so."

"Well, he almost had the inclination," said Robin.

"After he brushed off the captain, Xyon started to leave the party."

"Did he have any of the buffet before left?"

Robin stopped talking and stared at her. "The what?"

"The buffet."

"Mother, who cares?"

"I do. You worked very hard to set it up."

"I don't know if he did. I don't care. The point is, he started to leave... and then Kalinda stopped him. She seemed very anxious to talk to him. She sat down with him and soon they were laughing and having a grand time."

"Oh! Well, that's good," said Morgan.

"No, that was bad," Robin corrected her. "Because apparently Si Cwan decided to become overprotective of her. So he rather politely asked Xyon to stop monopolizing her time."

"Oh. That's bad."

"No, that was good," said Robin. "Because at least he was polite about it. He was nothing but civil to Xyon."

"Oh. So that's good."

"No, that was bad, because Xyon took offense anyway. I believe he said, 'After everything I've been through to save your sister, I can't believe that you would try to prevent me from having some private time with her.' "

"Oooo... that is bad."

"No, that was actually good. Because Captain Calhoun overheard, and stepped in on his son's behalf, telling Si Cwan that Xyon was absolutely right, and Si Cwan should give them some distance."

"Oh! Well, that's good."

"No, that's bad. Because Xyon told the captain that he could handle the situation himself."

"Well, that's... " Morgan stopped, frowned, and then shook her head. "I lost track. Are we up to bad or good?"

"It doesn't matter. The point is that Xyon put his arm around Kalinda and tried to walk out of the room with her. I don't know whether he did it in order to show that no one told him what to do, or in order to annoy Si Cwan, or what. But Si Cwan grabbed him and pulled him away, telling him that no one manhandles a princess of Thallon. And then Xyon shoved Si Cwan, and Si Cwan shoved him back, and the captain got in the middle and there was more shouting... " She shook her head in disbelief. "It's hard to understand how it spiralled out of control, that quickly. One minute I was standing there chatting with Shelby about something perfectly innocuous, and the next thing I know, someone is slamming into me--"

"You were attacked!" Morgan's voice bordered on outrage.

"Not exactly. More like, I got hit on the rebound. And I fell into the cake. And there was more shouting, and anger, and security showed up as Lieutenant Kebron restored order pretty quick, but they needed a cleanup crew and... " She put her face in her hands. "God, what a mess."

"Robin, it wasn't your fault..."

"And if everything had gone swimmingly, Mother, that would have been something I'd get the credit for, right? So when it turns into a debacle, as this did, who are they going to blame?"

"You're being much too hard on yourself." She coughed several times to try and clear out her lungs.

"Maybe I deserve it. I mean, look at the way things are going, Mother. Maybe fate is trying to tell me something."

"Tell you what? I don't understand--"

"Well, first I decided to tell Si Cwan that I have strong feelings for him and that I wanted to accompany him on the mission to Montos... except by the time I did it, he was gone. And then I offered to conduct the entire reception, arrange everything, set it all up, mostly to make him happy... and it became a huge misfire. Maybe somebody up there," and she pointed, "is trying to tell me something."

Morgan looked up to where Robin was pointing. "Up there? You mean on the bridge?"

"No, Mother!" she said in exasperation. "I mean 'up there.' You know. Divine intervention may be trying to get a point across."

"You're overthinking it, Robin."

"No, I'm not. Nothing goes right for me."

"Now you're just dissolving into self-pity, Robin. I won't have it," Morgan said sternly. "You're made of better and stronger stuff than that. So instead of complaining about how everything goes wrong for you, just pull yourself together, and be the officer and the woman that I know you can be. Clear?"

Robin's jaw twitched in irritation, but finally she sighed heavily and said, "Clear."

She went into the bathroom and took a shower. By the time she came out, she was sneezing and her temperature was starting to climb. As she blew her nose, she looked daggers at her mother. "Thanks, Ma. I'm sure the cold you've apparently just given me will serve me as well as your advice."

Morgan rolled her eyes and pulled the covers over her head. As one, they sneezed.

Copyright © 1999 by Paramount Pictures