Imzadi Forever

by Peter David

  “Shhh!” She looked up at him with genuine irritation on her face. Then she returned to reading the paper, her lips moving silently to the words.

  Riker made no further attempt to interrupt. Instead he made a great show of nonchalantly checking his chronometer and tricorder, and then nodding in satisfaction. He was, in fact, satisfied. They were late, that much was true…but within an hour they’d be at the rendezvous point, and from there it was only a short ride back to the city.

  He worked up the nerve to look at her. She was studying him frankly, her lustrous eyes seeming to take in the whole of him. Just as she had taught him—and just as he had perfected over the past several days—he took in and let out a slow breath, clearing his mind with facility.

  This is beautiful, Imzadi, she told him.

  He smiled, inwardly and outwardly. Do you really like it?

  You’d know if I were lying.

  She studied the paper and read out loud:

  “I hold you close to me.

  Feel the breath of you, and the wonder of you

  And remember a time

  Without you

  But only as one would remember

  A bleak and distant nightmare

  And you shudder against me in your sleep

  Do you share the memory with me of dark times past?

  And you smile

  Do you share the memory of times to come?

  The future holds such promise

  And just as I cannot imagine how I survived the past

  Without you

  I cannot imagine a future

  Without you.”

  “I don’t know,” Riker said, trying to keep the pride of authorship out of his voice. “I thought maybe it was a little syrupy.”

  “Oh, you thought no such thing,” admonished Deanna. “You thought it was a perfect statement of how you felt. You were proud of it. In fact, you still are.”

  He grinned. “I should have known better than to try false modesty with an empath.”

  “Absolutely right. That will get you nothing except embarrassment.”

  “Speaking of embarrassment, we better get moving. We’re already so late that that, in itself, is pretty damned embarrassing. Sergeant Tang’s been in touch with me four times in the past two days, just to make sure that I’m still alive.”

  “It’s nice that he’s so concerned about you.” She folded up the paper and tucked it in her bodice, and Riker looked at her in surprise.

  “Aren’t you giving it back to me?”

  “Please don’t make me. I’d like to keep it.”

  He sighed. “Only if you promise not to show it to anyone.”

  “Deal.”

  Forcing themselves not to yield to temptation, they went the rest of the way without any more impromptu interruptions. They held each other’s hand tightly, their fingers intertwined, and it was only when they were within sight of the encampment that they released their hold on each other, mutually deciding that it would probably look better if they didn’t arrive at the rendezvous with the flush of new love upon them.

  Tang and several other security people were waiting for them. The recovered art treasures of Betazed had already been sent on ahead back to the city and were safely ensconced back in the museum. Tang had also arranged for the bodies of the Sindareen raiders to be shipped back—without comment—to the Sindareen homeworld.

  “Good work, Sergeant,” said Riker approvingly. He turned and extended a hand to Deanna, who took it while maintaining as neutral an expression as she could.

  “This is Deanna Troi.”“Ma’am,” Tang greeted her with a slight inclination of his head. Then he exchanged looks with Riker. If Tang had any inkling as to what had gone on in the Jalara Jungle, he gave no indication whatsoever. He was far too much of a veteran, in every sense of the word, to be that open with whatever was going through his mind. “You’re certain that the leader of the raiders was attended to?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Riker. “It’s not the most pleasant thing I’ve ever witnessed…but he’s definitely attended to.”

  “Very well then, sir. Shall we go?”

  “By all means, Sergeant.”

  The journey back to the city took relatively little time. All the way back, Deanna and Will exchanged only the most minimal of conversation, most of it carefully polite inquiries into the health and well-being of the other. But then, as they approached the outskirts of the city, Riker heard in his mind…

  Why don’t you come over to the house tonight.

  Are you sure your mother wouldn’t mind?

  Mind? Deanna’s voice sounded almost scoffing. How could she mind? I imagine that she’ll want to thank you for saving me. I’d like to have her more kindly disposed towards you.

  That would be nice. The thought of her being less kindly disposed towards me is a really chilling one.

  “I want details.”

  Riker stared across Roper’s desk at the senior Federation representative. “Details on what?” asked Riker politely.

  “On what?” Roper looked incredulous. “The entire thing! What do you think?” He gestured toward the chair for Riker to sit down. “And don’t hold anything back!”

  With a shrug, Riker started to sit…and then, just on impulse, he swung the chair around and straddled it. “It was a fairly straightforward operation. We searched the jungle. I was fortunate enough to come upon the Sindareen raider before he had the chance to injure Deanna. He resisted my attempts to capture him and died in a mud pit. I brought Deanna to the rendezvous and she is, at this moment, safe and sound at home. End of story.”

  “No,” said Roper, waggling a finger. “No, not end of story. You and her, out in the jungle. The steamy, romantic Jalara Jungle. You having just saved her life, her incredibly grateful. The atmosphere, the mood. Our bet. Our bet, dammit. You’re not going to tell me that with all that falling your way, you didn’t take the opportunity to…?”

  Riker sighed and said, “All right, Mark. I have to admit it.”

  Eagerly Roper clapped his hands together. “Tell me. Go on. Give an old man his vicarious thrills.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” said Riker slowly. “What I can give you is your two hundred credits.”

  Roper’s face fell. “You’re telling me that—”

  “Pure as driven snow, Mark. And I grew up in Alaska, so believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”

  Roper sat back, his expression that of a child having just been informed that Santa’s existence was, at best, a dubious proposition. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Believe it, Mark. To use the old baseball parlance, no one bats a thousand. I gave it my best moves, but I’m afraid that it just didn’t happen. And I’m tired of bruising my ego trying.”

  “I must admit,” said Roper, shaking his head, “I’m just a bit disappointed. I generally can get a feeling about people, Captain. And despite my posturing to the contrary, I just had this gut instinct that you and Deanna would make a good couple. I’ve generally learned to trust that instinct. I hate to find out that I was that much off target.”

  “It happens to the best of us, Mark. As far as Deanna and I go, I’m afraid I just wasn’t in her league. But look at the bright side. Sure, we both feel frustrated. But at least you’re frustrated and got two hundred credits out of the deal.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It’s supposed to make one of us feel better.”

  Roper studied him for a moment, with Riker maintaining a carefully neutral expression. “You know what I think?” said Roper after a time.

  “No, Mark. What?”

  “I think that you are the most self-satisfied-looking ‘loser’ I’ve ever seen.”

  Riker smiled enigmatically.

  Twenty-eight

  Riker stood at the entrance of the Troi mansion, waiting patiently for the door to open. But he waited for what seemed an extraordinarily long time before it finally did.

  Mr.
Homn wasn’t standing there. Lwaxana was.

  Riker smiled graciously. “Mrs. Troi,” he said by way of greeting.

  She forced a smile, but did not step aside to allow him admission.

  “Lieutenant,” she said slowly, “I want you to believe me when I tell you this is not easy for me.”

  “What isn’t easy, Mrs. Troi?”

  “First, I have a moral obligation to thank you. You rescued my daughter from a very dangerous situation. You have, for that, my eternal gratitude and sense of obligation. I will always keep your heroism in mind whenever I think of you in the future.”

  “Thank you.”

  But she had clearly not finished. “Because of that, I am not using my considerable influence with Starfleet to see that you’re severely reprimanded.”

  “I…I beg your pardon?” But even as he said it, the thought flashed through his mind in bleakest fashion: She knows.

  Of that, Lwaxana promptly left no doubt. “Your subsequent actions with my daughter were completely out of line. You took advantage of a very incendiary situation.”

  “What happened between Deanna and myself, Mrs. Troi,” said Riker hotly, doing everything he could not to lose his temper, “was entirely mutual and entirely our business. I want to see Deanna.” He started to step past Lwaxana.

  She put her arms out rigidly and her voice was iron. “So help me, Lieutenant, no matter what obligation I have to you, if you set foot in here without my permission I will have you up on charges for criminal trespass. Is that clear?”

  He halted in his tracks.

  “I want to see Deanna,” he repeated in a low but forceful tone.

  “And do what? And say what? What do you have to offer her, Lieutenant? What, except a further dilution of her purpose.”

  “Further…?”

  She stamped her foot in anger. “Don’t you understand anything? Anything? Do you have any comprehension of what you’ve shoved your way into the middle of? A line of obligation that stretches back centuries! Tradition that was already old at a time when your ancestors were still discovering the mysteries of footwear! Blast it, Lieutenant! Deanna isn’t like the others! She isn’t like the other women you’ve known! She isn’t even like other Betazoids!” Lwaxana slapped one hand against her palm for emphasis. “Every step of her life has been mapped out for her! Her education, her career, her place in Betazoid society—all of it!”

  “By you,” he said tonelessly.

  “Yes, by me. Of course by me. You think I’m eager to shoulder that responsibility? No, Lieutenant. No, I’m not. But I do it because it’s my obligation and I accept it. And Deanna has accepted hers, and her obligation and her future. And I’m telling you, Lieutenant, right here, right now, that it’s a future in which you don’t figure.”

  His gaze ice, he said, “That’s for Deanna and me to decide.”

  “Oh, really,” Lwaxana said, making no effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “And where’s that decision going to lead? Are you going to give up your career exploring the galaxy? Pass it up for a permanent position here on Betazed? Clip your star-faring wings? Trade in your space legs for walking shoes?”

  “I want to see Deanna—”

  “And where’s that going to lead, Lieutenant?” Lwaxana continued relentlessly. “Are you really prepared to give all that up for Deanna? And if you do, then how long, Lieutenant? How long before the prospect of one planet wears thin on you? How long before the sight of the same old sun, rising and setting, day after day after day, weighs on you, chokes and suffocates you? How long before you blame Deanna for making you give it all up? A year? Two? Five? When the first rush of unbridled romance is faded, Lieutenant, and the fires don’t burn anywhere near as hot as the stars that were once your home…what’s going to happen then? Answer me.”

  Cold fury choked him and at first he couldn’t reply. But then, in the hallway behind Lwaxana, he spotted her. She was standing there, near the bottom of the stairway, a haunted look on her face.

  “Deanna!” he shouted to her.

  Her hands moved in small, vague circles.

  Lwaxana looked from one to the other, and then she said firmly, “Tell him, Deanna.”

  Deanna looked down, unable to put words together.

  “Deanna,” said Riker, and then he said, “Imzadi.”

  Lwaxana fired him a look that could have extinguished one of those blazing stars to which she’d referred moments before.

  And Deanna now looked him square in the face. She stood mere yards away, but her tone and words made her seem much, much farther.

  “She’s right, Will,” said Deanna tonelessly.

  “She’s not right! She—”

  “Sooner or later,” continued Deanna, as if Riker hadn’t even spoken, “you’re going to want to leave. Your place is out there. Mine’s here.” She hesitated, then said, “I have to be adult about this. We both do. It’s never going to get any better for us than it was in the jungle, Will. That was it. That was the high point. I…I want to remember it that way. Before your nature leads you to other places, other women…”

  “Deanna,” he said hopelessly, feeling as if she were fading from sight even as she stood there.

  “Let it end on a high note, Will. Not in the downward spiral of a relationship gone wrong. Think about what we had. That’s what’s important. Because there’s really nothing for us in the future. Nothing.”

  She turned on her heel without another word.

  Imzadi, he hurled at her bleakly.

  She didn’t even slow down as she walked…no, ran from him…up the stairs and out of sight.

  Lwaxana regarded him steadily. There seemed no triumph in her eyes, he thought, which was odd.

  “No, it’s not odd, Lieutenant,” she replied to his unspoken thoughts. “I’m not some ogress. Believe it or not…all I want is what’s best for Deanna. Perhaps if you have children someday, you will realize that watching out for what’s best is not something that brings a great deal of pleasure. Sometimes—at times such as this one—it’s a responsibility filled with much pain. As a Starfleet officer…William…this should not be a particularly alien concept to you. You’ve promised to assume responsibilities that are not always going to be gratifying: obeying the orders of a superior, even when you disagree. Or staying your hand in the name of the Prime Directive, even when your sense of morals would have you do otherwise. Well, you don’t have to be in Starfleet to face such difficult moments. Deanna’s facing one such now…and so am I. And believe it or not, I take no joy in it. Because it’s causing my daughter sorrow, and I hate having to do that. But we all face our responsibilities, Lieutenant. We do what we have to do. I know and accept that, as does Deanna. And now I think it’s time that you faced up to that as well. Good day, Lieutenant.”

  The door closed in his face.

  Twenty-nine

  The Scotch burned as it went down Riker’s throat.

  He had gotten it from Tang. The sergeant had seen Riker’s bleak mood when the young Starfleet officer had returned from the Troi homestead and without a word had extracted the bottle from his private stock, offering it to Riker with the contention that it could make everything go down more smoothly…frustration, pain, hurt, whatever.

  Riker stared at the bottle, then gripped it firmly by the neck. He had looked at Tang and asked, “Are you interested in joining me?”

  Tang had placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels thoughtfully. “Frankly, sir,” he had said after a moment’s thought, “I don’t think you’d want me there. There are times when a man just wants to get stinking drunk on his own.”

  Riker had nodded. “Sergeant, you’re wise beyond your rank.”

  “Thank you, sir. All part—”

  “—of the service,” Riker had finished along with him.

  Now Riker, alone in his quarters, poured himself another glass. He resisted the impulse to just swig it directly from the bottle. Somehow such action didn’t seem remotely in keepin
g with Starfleet decorum. He was sure that somewhere, in some regulations book, he had read that rule one of being an officer was that an officer always drank from a glass.

  He tossed back another shot and tried to remember what in hell had gotten him so upset in the first place.

  “Deanna,” he said out loud, and consequently reminded himself.

  What in hell had he been thinking of, anyway? Getting involved with a local that way. That kind of thing never led to anything but trouble. And not just involved, no. He’d actually had to go and get…feelings for her.

  “Not feelings,” he muttered to himself, and tried to take consolation in that. Yes, that had to be it. He hadn’t really felt anything for her. Not really. It had all been…been self-delusion. An attempt to convince himself that there was some sort of genuine love for her rattling around in that brain of his, because that was the only emotion that her type would accept before they would get to the really worthwhile part of a relationship. Yes, the worthwhile part, which was…which was…

  He frowned. “What was the worthwhile part again?” he said.

  The door chimed.

  Riker tapped his communicator. “Riker here.” He waited for a response.

  The door chimed again.

  Again Riker tapped his comm unit. “Riker here,” he said with growing irritation.

  “Will?” came the voice of Wendy Roper through the door.

  “Speak up, Wendy,” he told the communicator. “We have a lousy connection.”

  “Will, I want to see you.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Come on over.”

  The door slid open and Wendy entered. Riker blinked in surprise. “That was fast.”

  Wendy didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, but didn’t pretend to. “I heard you were upset about something, Will.”

  “Nonsense!” he declared, rising slowly to his feet. “Do I sound upset?”

  “No. Actually, you sound drunk.”

  “Drunk!” said Riker indignantly. “That, young woman, is an ugly rumor, spread by people I’ve tripped over.”