Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

by Peter David

  He looked around. "Into here. Didn't think

  I'd get this drenched in such a short time, though."

  "Typical Betazed storm," said Riker.

  "You're right, Captain. I'm ready to leave."

  "Very well. Crusher to Hood--"

  "However--"

  "Cancel," said Wesley without missing a beat.

  He looked expectantly at Riker and

  waited.

  "However," continued Riker, "it's not quite that

  simple. Lwaxana's will had an odd stipulation

  --she wants me to go through her memorabilia and

  catalogue it."

  Crusher blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

  "You heard me, Captain."

  "But why in the world would she want you to do that?"

  Riker lightly rested his hands on Deanna's

  coffin; Crusher wasn't even sure that Riker was

  aware that he was doing it. It was as if he were trying

  to draw strength from her. "Ostensibly because she

  feels I'm best qualified--which is nonsense.

  Mr. Homn is. The real reason, Wes, is

  because she wants me to relive it. Relive and

  remember all of it."

  "But ... but why?"

  "Because," he said with a sigh, "I imagine that a

  day didn't pass where she didn't dwell on

  it. And perhaps she's under the impression that I was

  somehow able to put it past me. She credited me for

  more than she herself could accomplish--which is a

  compliment of sorts, I suppose. So she

  wanted one last opportunity to put me through what

  she's put herself through all these years."

  "You don't have to do it, Admiral," said

  Crusher reasonably. "Tell them you simply

  can't take the additional time from your station. Tell

  them what you just said--t Mr. Homn is more

  qualified. Tell them--"

  "Tell them whatever it takes to get me off the

  hook?"

  Crusher shrugged. "That's one way to put it."

  "Maybe. But it's not a way that I can

  subscribe to." He shook his head and

  stepped away from the coffin as he said, "I'm not

  going to deprive Lwaxana of her last shot at

  me. I was gutless enough to try and delay my coming

  to her until the last minute. I owe her this ...

  I owe her something. I--"

  He stopped as he realized that Crusher

  wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead

  Wesley's gaze was focused on Deanna's

  body, which Riker had partly been blocking from

  view. Riker said nothing for a moment, but instead

  simply watched the starship captain. Eventually

  Crusher rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if

  something stinging had lodged in his eyes.

  "You had a crush on her, didn't you?" said

  Riker.

  Wesley glanced at him. "Was it that

  obvious?"

  Riker shrugged. "Teenage boys are very good

  at thinking they've got their feelings completely

  hidden. It helps to compensate for the fact that, more

  often than not, they're wearing them on their

  sleeves."

  Crusher let out a slow breath as if a great

  weight had been lifted off him. "She was ... the

  most exotic woman I'd ever seen. And you

  didn't have to pretend with her. No games, no

  posturing ... she just accepted you as you were. All

  us guys had a thing for her, really. We'd sit

  around and--"

  And then Crusher flushed slightly and cleared his

  throat.

  Before he could continue, Riker said, "And wonder

  what it would be like to--"

  "Yeah," admitted Crusher. Then, sounding

  slightly and amusingly defensive, considering his

  age and the years that had passed, he added, "We were

  just kids."

  "We were all just kids. You, me, her ...

  all of us. We just didn't know it at the time."

  Riker smiled. "Remember that blue-green

  outfit of hers?"

  "Ohhh, yes. That was my favorite."

  "Mine, too. Every so often, when I was feeling

  frivolous, I'd put it on and romp around the

  holodeck."

  Crusher stared at Riker's deadpan

  expression. "You ...?"

  "I'm kidding, Wesley."

  "Oh." He laughed uncertainly. "Oh."

  "Gave you a strange mental

  picture there for a second, though, didn't it?"

  "Yes, sir. It did, sir."

  Riker walked slowly across to the door, looking

  out at the thundering rain. "What else did you and the

  guys discuss?"

  Crusher was looking at Deanna's coffin.

  "Truthfully?"

  "That's usually the best way."

  "We talked about how dumb you were to be just friends

  with her when you could have been so much more."

  Riker looked at him askance. "Was the

  nature of my personal life such public knowledge

  on the Enterprise?"

  Crusher shrugged. "A thousand people in an enclosed

  community for years on end ... I'm sorry,

  Admiral, but there just weren't all that many

  secrets around."

  "I see." Letting out a heavy breath,

  Riker said, "For what it's worth, Captain

  Crusher ... we .were "s much more."' If we

  made any mistake ... or if I made any

  mistake ... it was allowing myself to take too much

  for granted. Like that she would always be there, like Old

  Reliable. Like that, if I wanted the nature of

  our relationship to change, I could do so anytime.

  That was probably my biggest presumption."

  They were quiet for a time, listening to the rain

  falling on the structure. Every so often the thunder would

  crash, and they would involuntarily jump. Crusher

  could, of course, have beamed up to his ship anytime,

  but instead it was clear to Riker that Wesley had

  unilaterally placed himself at Riker's disposal

  for however long the admiral needed him ... or

  however long Crusher believed he was needed.

  Riker wondered obliquely how many strings

  Crusher had pulled, and how many noses he had

  put out of joint, to delay whatever missions the

  Hood might have in the hopper. Whatever it was that

  Crusher had done, Riker found himself extremely

  grateful.

  "How did it happen, sir?"

  "How did what happen, Mr. Crusher?"

  For a moment, Wesley seemed reluctant

  to put it into ^ws. "I read about it ... about how

  she died. I read the formal reports. I know

  what my mom told me, but at the time she was so

  broken up about it that she really couldn't talk about

  it much. And somehow she never wanted to discuss it,

  even in later years. It hurt too much for her

  ... for all of us, really. But now, I

  thought maybe--"

  "You'd like to know what, precisely, was happening

  at the time."

  "Well ... I wasn't there," Crusher

  reminded him. "I was off at the Academy doing

  my extra year. And when I heard the news, I

  felt so removed, and I ..."

  "Wanted answers."

  "Yes, sir. I remember, I just sat there

  in my quarters, shaking my head ... I was too

/>   stunned even to cry ... and I just kept saying,

  "Why? Why?"'"

  "And now you're hoping I might have a few whys

  and wherefores."

  "That's right, sir."

  Riker shook his head. Then he walked toward

  the door and stepped just outside, allowing the rain

  to spatter on his face. The thunder cracked once

  more, and over its sound, Riker called out. "I have

  no answers for you, Wesley! None! But if you

  want to know what happened ... I'll tell you.

  You're entitled to that. God knows we all are."

  THE END OF THE BEGINNING

  As if it were an old-fashioned campfire,

  or perhaps stories being traded in a haunted

  house, Adm. William Riker sat on the

  floor of the mausoleum and--holding nothing back

  --spoke to Wesley Crusher of those last days.

  ...

  CHAPTER 7

  "Come."

  Comdr. William Riker, upon the

  commandstinvitation of his superior officer, entered the

  captain's ready room. Jean-Luc Picard,

  seated behind his desk, was studying his computer screen

  and gestured for Riker to sit in front of him.

  Riker did so, swinging the chair around and straddling

  it, then waiting patiently for Picard to conclude

  what he was doing.

  He knew that Picard's first expression when

  he looked away from the computer screen would

  determine the thrust of the discussion. So Riker

  breathed an inward sigh of relief when Picard

  turned the computer display away and smiled up at

  Riker. Apparently there wasn't going

  to be any problem.

  Still, it never hurt to be cautious. "You

  wanted to see me, Captain?"

  "Merely to touch base, Number One. How

  are the delegates settling in?"

  "Excellently, sir. I'd say the mood was

  even somewhat jovial. The Byfrexian,

  Luss, and Cordian ambassadors, and their

  aides, have absolutely no complaints with their

  accommodations ... although the Byfrexians did

  request the atmosphere in their cabin be somewhat

  chilled. I've attended to that."

  "How amazingly minor," said Picard, looking

  pleasantly surprised. "No problems at

  all?"

  "Well ... one small embarrassing moment,

  I suppose," admitted Riker. "One of the

  younger children stopped the Cordian ambassador in the

  hallway and said ..."

  Picard raised an eyebrow. "Said what?"

  "He, um ... well, the child seemed to be under

  the confused impression that the Cordian was, in

  fact, an accordion. He asked the

  ambassador to play "Twinkle Twinkle,

  Little Star"' on himself."

  Picard moaned softly. "How did the

  ambassador react?"

  "He took it in stride, actually. He said

  it's happened to him on several occasions in the past

  and suggested that it might be time, and I quote,

  "fflearn how to play the smegging thing."'"

  "Good." Picard sat back in his chair in

  relief. "These sorts of missions are always

  delicate, Number One. Considering that

  ambassadors and delegates are supposed

  to promote interstellar harmony, it's amazing how

  often these things can degenerate into acrimony and

  emotional free-for-alls."

  "True enough, but I don't think that's going

  to happen in this instance, sir. Everyone is just so

  relieved that the Sindareen are willing to put an

  end to decades of warfare."

  "I'm not surprised. I was just updating myself

  on the conflict, Number One." Picard tapped

  the computer screen. "Truly amazing. The

  warlike attitude of the Sindareen is certainly

  on par with anything the Klingons or the Kreel ever

  had to offer. What is amazing is not only the

  aggressiveness with which they fought, and the zealousness with which

  they pursued every dispute, no matter how

  trivial ... all of that, Number One, is

  secondary to the fact that they were able to keep it going

  for so long."

  "From everything I read of them," said Riker,

  "they paid no attention to the fact that their economy

  was falling apart around their ears."

  "Quite right. They kept telling themselves that whatever

  difficulties they had would disappear once they had

  conquered their enemies. Except even when they did

  achieve victories, the results were so

  devastating that there was nothing left to gain from the

  conquest--not riches, not any useful goods ...

  nothing."

  "A series of Pyrrhic victories."

  "Precisely. Until the Sindareen reached a

  point in their war efforts at which they--ffuse the

  old-style vernacular--ran out of gas."

  "Suing for peace was the first smart thing that the

  Sindareen have done in close to a century," said

  Riker. "They're just damned lucky that their

  closest enemies--the Cordians, the

  Byfrexians, and the Luss--were willing

  to listen. They could have put the screws to them."

  "Yes. They could. Hopefully it's a

  lesson in tolerance and acceptance from which the

  Sindareen will learn. Nothing would better suit

  interstellar harmony than to have the Sindareen act in

  a civilized manner. At the same time, W"--

  Picard leaned forward, steepling his fingers--?we have

  to make sure that whatever resentment the Sindareen

  might feel with the situation doesn't feed whatever

  fires of self-satisfaction the ambassadors

  might have burning in them. They are accomplished,

  intelligent individuals--but at the same time,

  in a situation like this, there can be a tendency towards

  smugness. We'll have to watch that.

  "By the same token," Picard continued,

  "we'll have to keep a wary eye on the Sindareen.

  Yes, they've sued for peace. But we'll have

  to make sure they're sincere."

  "That certainly sounds like it's right up the

  counselor's alley."

  "I've already spoken with Counselor Troi,"

  said Picard. "She had said that the Sindareen were not

  always easy to read; that their natural aggression could

  screen her empathic abilities to some

  degree."

  "I know. But on the other hand, if she's with

  specific members of the Sindareen long enough, she

  can "punch through"' that resistance and get a

  very clear feeling for them."

  Picard did not attempt to hide his

  surprise. "That's right. That's exactly what

  she said."

  His captain's expression informed Riker that an

  explanation was anticipated. Riker simply

  shrugged. "Deanna had some experience with the

  Sindareen some time ago."

  "And she told you about it?"

  "Something like that."

  "Is there something that's preventing you from

  volunteering more information about the counselor's

  Sindareen experience than you are currently

  doing?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "And that would be ...?"


  Riker smiled. "My innate modesty,

  sir."

  "I see," said Picard, and he harrumphed

  slightly. "Very well, Commander. Far be it from me

  to compromise your sense of modesty."

  "Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else?"

  Picard hesitated a moment and then said,

  "Let's watch ourselves on this one, w. I

  agree that everything would appear to be going

  smoothly. On the other hand, we haven't reached

  Sindar yet. Once they get here, things could

  change very drastically. And we have to keep alert for

  anything vaguely out of the ordinary."

  "If there's one thing I've learned,

  Captain, it's always to watch out for anything out of the

  ordinary."

  "So have we both, Number One. And we've

  learned it through trial and error ... sometimes

  costly error. And whenever possible--I'd like

  to avoid more costliness."

  "Sometimes, sir, no matter how cautious we

  are ... things happen."

  Slowly Picard nodded. "That, Number One,

  is also something that we must both, reluctantly,

  agree upon."

  CHAPTER 8

  After touching base with Worf to make sure that

  all security requirements were met, Riker

  headed down to Deanna Troi's quarters. It

  was, he felt, a reasonable thing to do--he had

  already spoken to her about her feelings vis-@a-vis

  the state of mind of the various

  ambassadors, and because of her report, he had

  told the captain all was well. Still, it couldn't

  hurt to confer with her once more and see whether she had

  picked up on any second thoughts, hidden

  hostilities--anything that could conceivably

  interfere with the successful completion of the mission.

  He walked up to the door of her quarters and

  rang the chime. "Deanna?"

  At first there was no sound from within and Riker thought

  that he might have missed her. He tapped his

  communicator and said, "Computer, locate

  Counselor Troi."

  "Counselor Troi is in her quarters," the

  computer calmly informed him.

  This confused the hell out of Riker, and small

  alarms began to sound in his head. Was there a

  problem? Was she in danger? Why wasn't she

  answering?

  More insistently now, he rang the door chime

  and said, "Deanna? Are you all right? It's

  W."

  The door slid open and Deanna was standing there,

  wrapped in a gold dressing gown that hung half

  off her bare shoulder. A naked leg was also

  visible through the folds, which she pulled shut as an