Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1
Page 33
Riker was hardly considered to be a malevolent
presence. It had been the scientists' error
to take Riker's ^w that there was urgent Starfleet
business to discuss.
By the time they had realized their mistake, it had
been too late.
Data was trying to make up for that mistake
now. He watched, stone faced, as the
Enterprise pitted her phasers against the force
field. That they would eventually penetrate, he
had no doubt whatsoever. The question was whether they would
break through in time.
Riker took a step back, watching the
phasers with a sense of grim desperation.
There was nothing he could do. He was trapped
inside, and besides, getting out would simply put him
farther from the Guardian. He heard a low moan
behind him--Mary Mac was coming around. Perfect--t
was all he needed.
The field began to buckle. He could see the
power reserves straining, the field integrity
collapsing. How incredibly ironic that here he
was at the gateway to all time, and time was the one thing
he did not have.
He glanced down at the tricorder.
The green light was glowing.
He emitted a horrified yell. He should have
been standing in front of the Guardian the whole time,
watching, monitoring, waiting for the signal to flash
to life. Had it just come on? Had it been on for a
few seconds?
Too far! his mind screamed. Too far from
the Guardian!
He spun and charged at the gateway. The sand
crunched beneath his boots. On the display face of the
Guardian, he saw a brief image of Q
dancing with Lwaxana Troi, and then Locutus
threatening the ship, and it was all merging and blending
together ...
"Admiral, we will stop you!" came
Data's voice, rising above the wind and the
screaming of the Enterprise phasers, and he heard
Blair's voice shouting something as well.
No time! No time!
Help me, Imzadi ... the voice
seemed to reach back through the years.
Riker leaped.
And then he was out of time.
Literally.
CHAPTER 37
Lieutenant Barclay stood in the holodeck
of the USS Enterprise 1701-D and cracked
his knuckles.
He knew that he shouldn't. He knew he
might get caught. But the odds were slim.
Captain Picard, Commander Riker, all the
senior officers had been involved with a major
diplomatic bash that evening. So the chances were that
they wouldn't be anywhere near the holodeck that
night.
Besides, he was off duty now. And he had pared
down his holodeck activity to once a
week. It wasn't interfering with anything
important. And if he had his own ways of
entertaining himself, well--z long as he didn't
hurt anyone, and as long as he wasn't
overdependent on it ... well, where was the harm in
that?
He had already informed the computer precisely
what he wanted. Now he said simply, "Run
program."
A moment later he was standing on a vast,
grassy plain. Far in the distance, ancient
Rome stood in all its glory. But right in
front of him was a small temple, circular with
tall pillars.
Standing in the middle of the temple was Deanna
Troi. She was scantily clad in gauze,
flowing robes. She extended her arms to him and in
a musical lilt said, "I am the goddess of the
mind."
Barclay started toward her, his voice robust
and deep. "And I am the one who worships you
... and whom you will worship in return."
And at that precise moment, something else
appeared on the holodeck--seemed to just step right
out of nowhere.
Barclay stopped, utterly confused. It was a
man in what appeared to be some sort of uniform.
It even looked vaguely like a Starfleet
uniform, but the coloring was different and--
Then Barclay took a close look at the
face.
"What the hell ...?" he breathed.
The new holodeck image, which appeared for
all the world to be an older version of Riker,
looked around in what seemed to be momentary
disorientation. Then "Riker" turned, looked at
Barclay, then to the image of Deanna, and back
to Barclay. Riker put his hands on his hips and
addressed Barclay with a voice of utter
authority. "So ... I should have known. Still at it,
Lieutenant?"
In total confusion, Barclay called out,
"Computer. Remove image of ..." He
wasn't sure what to call it. "Remove new
image and run a systems check."
Riker merely stood there, showing no signs of
disappearing. "I," he said, "am a holodeck
failsafe, built in to monitor the types of
programs you're engaging in, Mr. Barclay.
I am very disappointed to see you still
perpetrating such ... bizarre ... scenarios.
I want it halted immediately." He pointed at
Barclay sternly. "Is that clear?"
"Y-yes sir!" stammered Barclay
uncomprehendingly. "Computer! Cancel this
program! In fact ... in fact, cancel all
programs that I've created. As a matter of
fact--cancel all my future participation in
holodeck activities!"
Rome, its environs, and the image of
Deanna Troi, all vanished back into the
nothingness they had come from. The only things remaining
in the room were the glowing yellow grids,
Barclay, and Riker.
"Very good, Lieutenant," said Riker
approvingly.
"Are ... are you going to go now, too?" asked
Barclay hopefully. He had no idea why, of
all images, an older Riker had been chosen.
But whatever the reason, it was a damned effective
selection. He was totally unnerved by it.
"Yes, I'm going to go, too," said Riker.
"And I'll tell you what. If you don't mention
this incident to anyone, then I won't, either.
We'll keep it just between us."
"Th-thank you, sir," Barclay said.
The image of Riker headed for the door.
Barclay waited for it to vanish, as all
holodeck creations did if they tried to leave the
holodeck. Instead the doors hissed open
obediently, and the elder Riker walked out, turned
left, and headed down a corridor. The doors
hissed shut behind him.
Barclay stood there for a long time. And then he
went out, turned right, and returned to his cabin.
He didn't go near the holodeck for the rest of
his stay on the Enterprise.
Admiral Riker walked quickly down the
corridor, looking neither right nor left. He
passed a couple of crewmen, some of whom did
double takes upon spotting him. Perhaps they would
assume that some uncle of Riker's had come
to visit the ship, or maybe the
commander was coming from
some sort of costume function. He didn't
slow down enough for anyone to get a really clear
look at him, and he certainly didn't stop
to answer any questions.
He had to get his bearings. Figure out
precisely when he was. He could have
asked Barclay, but he hadn't wanted the
lieutenant to question his existence as anything other than
some sort of confusing holodeck manifestation. It
had saved him time--and he didn't know how much time
he had.
He ducked into a room to his left that he
knew was going to be vacant because it was one of the
guest quarters. Once inside, he called out,
"Computer! Tell me the stardate and time."
There were few moments in Riker's life that he
could precisely remember down to the second of
their occurrence. But the day and time of Deanna
Troi's death was certainly one of those. He was
able to recall the exact sound of Beverly
Crusher's voice as she had labored to bring
Deanna back to life. And when she had failed
... when she had finally realized that nothing was going
to help, and her best friend on the ship was forever gone
... she had said, in a voice that sounded choked with
dirt from a grave, "Record the time and date of
death." The computer had obediently, and uncaringly,
said it out loud for the record.
Riker had been standing there and had heard
it--heard it punctuated by a choked sob from
Beverly Crusher. There had been no noise from
Riker himself--aletter the cloud was settling over him.
The cloud that would cloak him for forty years.
Now, in the vacant guest quarters, the computer
informed him of the day and time.
He felt his breath catch in his throat, the
blood pounding in his temple.
He had hoped to arrive a day or two beforehand.
Somehow, cautiously, make contact with
Deanna. Inform her of what was to happen.
Convince her, put her on guard. And even more
importantly--give her the antidote for the
poison that he had brought back with him,
securely stored in his jacket.
He had known that it would be dangerous. Somewhere,
somehow, Data might have sent people back,
anticipating his moves. Trying to block his
plans. But Data would have to be judicious--he
didn't want to upset the applecart of time, and
he would be very, very careful as to what he did and how
he did it. Riker had anticipated that there would
be something of a chess match of strategy, played out
through the corridors of the Enterprise
1701-D.
But he had been wrong.
He didn't have time for subtlety.
He didn't have time for finesse.
What he had was twenty-three minutes.
Twenty-three minutes from right now, until the
point where Deanna Troi would be lying on
Beverly Crusher's medtable, a lifeless bundle
of flesh.
"Damn!" he snarled.
He charged out into the hallway, resetting his
chronometer, and bolted down the corridor,
running full-tilt toward Deanna's quarters.
His arms pumped furiously, and as he turned
a corner, his pounding footsteps alerted a
security guard. The guard turned, and Riker
didn't recognize him. That, in andof itself,
didn't mean anything. Even when he was the
second-in-command, he didn't necessarily
know every single crewman on sight--particularly
if it was a relatively new arrival. And he
wasn't even the contemporary Riker--forty years
had passed, and faces blurred with the years.
Then again--it might be someone sent back
by Data.
The security guard frowned and started to reach for
his phaser. "Hold it!" he called out.
Again, Riker had no way of knowing for sure.
Certainly, with so many dignitaries presently
on board the Enterprise, it would be standard
operating procedure for guards to be on alert
to anyone who didn't seem to belong there. And
Riker certainly seemed out of place.
Then again--the "guard" might know precisely
who the gray-haired man was, and what his mission
was.
Riker raised an arm in front of his face
to block the guard's view and slammed into him,
knocking the younger man back before he could bring his
phaser up. "Security alert, deck
fourteen!" shouted the guard, and then Riker grabbed
him up, pivoted, and slammed him headfst into the
wall. The guard went down, unconscious, and
Riker scooped up his phaser.
Riker knew security would be all over the
place within a minute. If Riker were to be
captured, dragged down to the brig, interrogated
... by the time he got everything straightened out, it
would be too late.
There was only one person he could think to trust.
More to the point--there was only one person he could
trust whose cabin was close enough.
The thoughts had gone through his mind so
quickly that he was already dashing down a side
corridor before the guard had even completely
slumped to the ground.
A right, then another left, and he was standing in
front of the cabin. He took a deep breath.
The door was locked, which was not unusual when someone
had retired for the evening. But his voice was still his
voice, and he said briskly, "Computer,
override lock and open for William Riker."
The computer checked that this was indeed the voice of
William t. Riker, authorized occupant
of the cabin, and consequently, the doors hissed
open. The admiral stepped inside.
He heard soft breathing in the bed. He
squinted, his eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness as
the doors slid shut behind him.
He hadn't been quite sure how he would react
upon seeing his younger self. He was pleased to discover
that, for the most part, he didn't really care. His
younger version was simply a means to an end.
Perhaps, when all this was over, he would get a
massive case of the shakes. Just as Deanna had
those many, many years ago.
For the briefest of moments he was distracted by the
mental image of Deanna from their steamy encounter
in the jungle, and then he was immediately snapped
back to business when his younger self suddenly sat
up in bed.
Commander Riker squinted into the darkness, looking
straight at his older self, but wasn't able
to make out anything clearly. He started to say,
"Lights."
But the admiral moved quickly, moving with
assurance in the darkness since, after all, it was his
old quarters and he remembered where everything was.
He dropped onto the bed next to his younger
self and clamped his hand over Will Riker's mouth.
The commander struggled fiercely, shoving at the arm
that he
ld him down, grabbing upward at his face.
The elder Riker, for his part, felt nothing but
impatience and quickly called out, "Lights!"
He felt the younger man freeze in momentary
confusion at the no-doubt familiarity of the voice.
The lights came up, too bright for Will, and the
admiral snapped, "Half lights," bringing the
illumination to a more bearable level.
Commander Riker stared up in shock at his
future self. The latter hissed, "Shut up!
We haven't much time!"
Momentarily startled, Will began
to struggle again, trying to make some sort of
noise. The admiral, losing what little patience
he had, and aware of the rapidly passing time,
snapped, "Didn't you hear what I said? Shut
up, you idiot! They may be here to try and stop
me at any moment! So lie still! Listen to me, and
be prepared to do exactly what I tell you.
Deanna's life hangs on what you do next."
That was more than enough to get W's attention. He
stopped struggling, slowly realizing that he was not under
direct attack; that he was not dreaming; and that there
was more to this than he was going to be able to discern upon first
exposure.
"I'm going to let go of your mouth now," said the
admiral. "So help me, if you shout or try
to get attention, I'll knock you cold and take
care of this myself. And if I have to do that and get
nailed because I'm easily spotted, then you will quite
literally have no one but yourself to blame for the rest of
your life."
Will nodded, indicating he understood, and the
admiral slowly released his hand. He stepped
back off the bed as Will sat up. There was still
confusion in his eyes, but also amazement. "Who ...
are you?"
"The Easter bunny," snapped the admiral.
"Who in hell do you think I am. We're
wasting time ... time we haven't got. Get
dressed. Move. Move!"
Will rolled off the bed, never taking his eyes off
the senior Riker, even as he started to pull on
his uniform. "You're from the future, aren't you?"
"That's right. You don't sound surprised."
"After the time that Captain Picard ran
into himself, I swore that nothing would surprise
me."
"Oh, yes," said the admiral. "I did
swear that, didn't I." Then he turned deadly
serious. "Listen to me and don't interrupt.
Deanna's life is in mortal danger."
"Then why in hell am I taking the time to get
dressed?"
"Because they may be watching for anything unusual