Imzadi Forever

by Peter David

  “Except for me, there was just the frustration that I should have done something, but didn’t know what. For you, it’s going to be the knowledge that you could have done something, but didn’t. How much worse for you, Riker? When you call out with your mind, ‘Imzadi,’ and there’s no one to respond, no part of your soul that acknowledges that the word has any meaning to anyone else, what will happen to you then? God damn you, Riker! When your heart’s been cut out, how’s it going to feel knowing that you’re the one who wielded the knife?”

  Will ripped away from him, his face ashen, his heart pounding.

  “Deanna!” he screamed, and charged from his quarters.

  Thirty-eight

  Dann nibbled at Deanna’s neck and began to work his way down. She sighed, a slow, languorous sigh. She was on the bed, wearing only the flimsiest of shifts. She started to push it down off her shoulders so that Dann’s downward course would be unobstructed.

  But still, something bothered her. “Dann…are you all right?”

  He raised his head slightly. “Of course I am,” he said reasonably. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know. I just sense…I mean…”

  And suddenly she sat up, confused, a voice echoing in her head. “Will?” she said in bewilderment.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Dann, sitting up as well.

  “It’s…it’s Will. Something’s wrong…I sense…total panic. It’s…something directed towards me, I don’t…”

  “Deanna, calm down,” said Dann firmly, taking her by the shoulders. “He’s probably just, well, jealous about us. That’s what’s giving him anxiety. He’s probably even asleep and you’re just…just tuning in to his dreams somehow. I know you two are close, but—”

  “No!” She pushed him aside. “Something is wrong.”

  “Deanna…”

  She got out of bed, adjusting the shift around her, and went over to her uniform, which was neatly hung nearby. She tapped the communicator on it and said, “Troi to Riker.”

  “Deanna!” came Riker’s desperate shout. “Stay there! Don’t move! I’ll be there in a few seconds!”

  She spun and faced Dann. “Did you hear that? He’s terrified!”

  “Yes,” said Dann sadly. “Yes…I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Will hurtled down the corridor at warp speed. He skidded once and, to his panic, almost bobbled the vial and dropped it. But he recovered quickly and turned a corner.

  His mind was racing furiously. He didn’t know how or why any of this was happening, but there were two things of which he was completely, instinctively convinced—that he had confronted his future self, and that Deanna was going to die in the next few minutes.

  He skidded to a halt outside her quarters and charged in. Deanna was seated on the bed, arguing with Dann, but when she saw Riker, she rose to her feet. “Will…?”

  He thrust the vial outward. “Drink this! Quickly!”

  Dann came off the bed and stood between them. “What are you, crazy? She’s not just going to drink some vial of unknown liquid because you told her to. Get out of here!”

  “Deanna, you have to,” said Riker. “Your life depends on it.”

  Deanna knew, of course, that Riker believed every word of what he was saying. But it didn’t make her any less befuddled. “My life?”

  “Out of my way!” Riker said to Dann, trying to push him aside.

  “Like hell! Deanna, don’t listen to him! He’s trying to hurt you! He’s jealous of me!”

  Dann moved once again to block Riker, and this time Will grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to push him to one side. To his shock, Dann didn’t budge. He was a head shorter and considerably slimmer than Riker, but he held his ground. Instead he grabbed Riker by the forearms and held him in a grip of iron.

  “Deanna!” shouted Riker, and somehow, in his head, he heard a slow, steady ticking, like time slipping away from him, spiraling out of control. Everything seemed to slow down and distort as he twisted in Dann’s grasp and flipped the vial onto the bed. It landed on the sheets, bounced once, and started to tumble to the floor. But Deanna’s hand snatched out and grabbed it. She stared at it, trying to understand.

  “Give me that!” shouted Dann, and her head snapped around in amazement at the desperation in his tone. With his free hand he lunged for the vial, but now Will Riker shifted his grip and spun on the ball of his foot. Dann was thrown across the room, crashing into furniture.

  “Drink it!” Riker yelled at Deanna. “If you ever trusted me, if you ever loved me, drink it!”

  Deanna needed no further urging. She pulled at the stopper.

  It was stuck.

  Dann came to his feet and with an animalistic roar sprang toward Deanna. Riker met his charge, braced himself, and the two of them went down in a tumble of arms and legs.

  Riker rolled over, gaining the advantage, and pounded furiously on Dann’s head. The blows didn’t seem to have any effect, and Dann drove a knee up, shoving Riker off. But Riker didn’t lose his grip on one of Dann’s arms, and the Starfleet officer, even off balance, managed to send Dann crashing into the wall.

  Deanna worked desperately at the stopper, kneading it with her fingers. It worked its way upward.

  Dann began to transform.

  He became larger, his body covered with thick brown fur, his hands shaping into claws.

  Riker recognized his species immediately. It was a Chameloid. Shape-shifters, incredibly powerful, incredibly dangerous.

  Deanna, her fingers still pushing on the stopper, stared at the man she had thought was Dann, her dark eyes registering her utter shock. And then, somewhere deep within her, she felt some sort of distant, burning sensation.

  At that moment, the stopper popped off, rolling onto the bed.

  “NO!” roared “Dann,” and he made one final, desperate lunge. He shoved Riker aside, his fingers reaching for the vial, and then Riker snared his long, matted fur from behind and leaped on, wrapping his arms down and around the Chameloid’s arms, and up around the creature’s neck.

  Deanna drank down the contents of the vial in one gulp.

  The Chameloid howled in fury, trying to bat Riker off his back. “You idiot! Do you have any idea what you’ve done! Do you?”

  Riker said nothing. Instead, all of his energy was being used to shove the creature’s neck forward.

  The Chameloid broke the grip, slamming Riker to the floor. Towering over him, the creature roared, “You selfish bastard! You’ve risked everything!”

  “I’ve risked everything for Deanna before,” Riker said defiantly, “and I’d do it again!”

  “Well, I don’t have that choice!” snapped the Chameloid.

  He started toward Deanna, his hands outstretched…

  And a phaser blast from behind sent the Chameloid to his knees.

  Worf stood in the doorway, his phaser leveled. “One side, Commander,” he said calmly. Immediately Riker leaped out of the way and Worf fired again. The phaser beam enveloped the Chameloid once again. He wailed in frustration, and then consciousness slipped from him and he pitched forward, right on top of Riker.

  Worf helped roll the Chameloid off Riker, who sat up, rubbing his chest in pain. Then he looked to Deanna, who was making a similar motion of her own. “Deanna,” he said urgently, “are you all right? Are—”

  “I…I felt something. Some sort of…of burning pain in my chest…but now it’s gone. Will…what’s happened here? Who is…is that?” She pointed distastefully at the unconscious Chameloid. “Where did this vial come from? How did you know…?”Riker patted her hand with all the reassurance that he could muster at that moment. Then he said, “Worf…get our ‘friend’ here to the brig. Alert the captain, tell him to meet me outside my quarters. Emphasize that. Outside my quarters.”

  “Very well,” said Worf, hauling the Chameloid over his shoulder. Two other security men had shown up by this point, but Worf clearly had matters in hand. “Am I correct in assuming that th
is is our intruder?”

  Will looked up at him bleakly. “Worf, you don’t know the half of it.”

  Worf grunted and headed off to the brig with the Chameloid. When he was gone, Riker rotated his arm, which had been banged up as he’d wrestled with the Chameloid.

  Troi, for her part, merely looked at him with awe. “You saved my life, Will,” she said quietly. “I was in danger, and you came charging in here—risked your life—and you saved me.”

  “Actually,” said Riker, “not to sound boastful or anything—but it appears I went to even greater lengths than that to save you. You’d better get dressed and come with me. I don’t think you’re going to believe this unless you see it. I’ll…” He cleared his throat, chucking a thumb toward the hallway. “I’ll wait out here for you to put some clothes on.”

  “That’s very decent of you, Commander.”

  She slid off the bed, stood on her toes, and kissed him.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered in his ear.

  He smiled tiredly. “All part of the service.”

  Thirty-nine

  When Will and Deanna returned to his cabin, Picard was standing there looking extremely annoyed.

  “All right, Number One,” he said stiffly, arms folded. “I have complied with your wishes and stood here outside your cabin. I cannot say I like to be kept waiting.”

  “The counselor was just making herself look presentable,” said Will.

  “Presentable for whom?” demanded Picard.

  “Yes, Commander,” chimed in Troi. With the danger past, she was all business. “Whom exactly am I being made presentable for?”

  For answer, Will walked into his cabin, hoping his future self had stayed put. It had potential to be a very embarrassing situation if—

  He was gone.

  Will stood in the middle of the cabin, looking around dismally. Troi and Picard followed him in, staring uncomprehendingly at the officer’s obvious discomfiture.

  “He was right here!” said Riker desperately.

  “Number One,” Picard told him, speaking slowly and deliberately, “who…precisely…was here?”

  “Me.”

  It had been Will Riker’s voice that had replied, but it was not the Will Riker that Picard was looking at. For an instant Picard thought that Riker was practicing ventriloquism or some such nonsense. But then, slowly, Picard realized that the voice had come from behind them.

  He turned in time to see a gray-haired version of his second-in-command emerging from the bathroom. “I was here,” he said. “Still am, actually. Which makes me con—”

  He caught a glimpse of Deanna, who was standing just behind the younger Will Riker. Will stepped aside and gestured to her. “I did it,” he said quietly, “or rather…we did it.”

  Picard had not yet fathomed what to say, much less what to make of the situation. At that precise moment, however, Picard could have been a million light-years away and Adm. William Riker would not have noticed.

  Instead Riker was staring at Deanna Troi with a mixture of disbelief and shock. “Deanna…” he whispered.

  She took a step toward him, stunned. “Will—?”

  It was the fastest shift in emotion that Deanna had ever felt. An air of despair and doom had hung like a shroud over the man facing her…until he had set eyes on her. And suddenly it had been ripped away, just like that. How was it possible that one person —one person— could make that much difference in someone’s life?

  He approached her, reaching out to her. Picard and his Number One made no move, but merely watched in pure amazement.

  The admiral brought his hands up to her face, hovered over it for an instant as if afraid to touch her. As if afraid that if he made any such movement, she would burst like a soap bubble and all of it, all of this moment, would just vanish.

  But then he did touch her. Riker put his hands to her face, and they were shaking. “Oh…my God,” he breathed.

  It was like that moment in the Jalara Jungle, except now he was the one who was trembling. Deanna, for her part, reacted entirely on instinct, putting her arms around him and pulling him tightly against her.

  His chest began to heave with pent-up emotion, and the old man began to sob. He no longer cared where he was, or who was watching. The ethics of his actions did not weigh on him. All that mattered was that she was there, and she was alive, and in his arms. Years of agony and guilt and second-guessing, washed away by the hot tears and first real emotion besides grief that he had experienced for decades.

  And she heard his thoughts, and it was as startling as that first time had been. Oh, God…Imzadi…I’m whole again, echoed in her mind, the prayer of thanksgiving from a man who had given up on everything, especially himself. I never knew…what I had until you were gone.

  “It’s all right,” she murmured, stroking his back. “It’s all right.”

  He drew back from her to look her in the eyes, those eyes that had been closed in death for years. They were as bright and transcendent as he had remembered, and both of their faces were wet with tears. Whether hers was wet from his or she had generated her own, he couldn’t tell. He also couldn’t care.

  Standing to one side, Comdr. Will Riker watched the reunion of two lovers and realized—insanely—that he was jealous.

  “Worf to Riker.”

  Riker the elder had to rein in his impulse to answer, but instead nodded in the direction of Will. “I think it’s for you.”

  Will tapped his communicator. “Yes?”

  “We checked the cabin to which Ambassador Dann had been assigned and found him unconscious. Apparently the Chameloid had accosted Dann at some point earlier this evening and taken his place.”

  The admiral’s head now turned, his attention switching to the matters at hand. He released his hold on Deanna and turned to Will, making a throat-cutting gesture. Will said, “Thank you, Mr. Worf. Make sure the Chameloid is secure. Riker out.” Then he turned to his future self and said, “This Chameloid is one of ‘them,’ isn’t he.”

  “I believe so,” said the admiral. “You sure he’s a Chameloid? Large? Brown hair and furry?” When Will nodded, Admiral Riker continued, “Well, unless I miss my guess, he’s an officer named Blair. There was only one Chameloid on…on the ship, and Lieutenant Blair was it. I doubt…they could have gotten another one so quickly. It figures that he would assume the appearance of someone close to Deanna. If they anticipated my trying to save her, then the logical thing was to take on the aspect of whoever was with her at the key moment in time. Simplest way to keep an eye on her and make sure things progress smoothly.”

  “For all you knew,” Will now said, “I could have been one of them. When you came here, you might have been walking into a trap.”

  “I know. That’s why I mentioned the lines of poetry to you. I watched your reaction very carefully. That wasn’t just to convince you that I’m you. It was also to convince me that you’re me.”

  “I hate to break this up,” Picard now said, stepping forward, “but I, who am unquestionably me, would be most grateful if either of you cared to tell either of me what in hell is going on?”

  “Watch your tone with me, Captain,” said the elder Riker with a half-serious smirk. “I have seniority, and I outrank you.”

  Picard was not someone who was easily flustered, but now he turned to his second-in-command with utter perplexity. “Number One—?” And there was a distinct tone of warning to his voice.

  “Simply put, Captain,” said Will, stepping forward and gesturing to the gray-haired man, “this is myself, from the future.”

  “I surmised that, Number One,” said Picard tightly. “Now what the blazes is he doing here?”

  “All right, Captain,” the admiral told him. “To put this as succinctly, and as noncommittally, as possible—Deanna’s life was in danger. I came back through time to see her through that danger. And there are some people who would prefer that I didn’t.”

  “Will…” began Picard.<
br />
  Two Rikers said, “Yes?”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Deanna had to make an effort not to laugh.

  “Admiral,” Picard started again, “Counselor Troi has been in danger before. We all have. Why was this threat so significant that it warranted your taking the extremely dangerous step of coming back through time?”

  “She died,” said the admiral, trying not to look at her. “But now she hasn’t…except that I haven’t returned to my own time. Which means…” And his voice darkened. “It means the danger to her isn’t over yet.”

  Picard leaned against a bureau. “How…how did you come here?”

  The admiral gave Riker a long, hard look. There seemed to be a great deal going through his mind, as if he were coming to a variety of decisions. “I can’t tell you,” he said finally.

  Picard blinked. “Well, then…tell us why Counselor Troi was”—he found he couldn’t say the word and settled for—“attacked. What happened as a consequence of it?”

  “I can’t tell you that, either.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” said Picard in exasperation. “It seems just yesterday we went through this with Rasmussen—and he turned out to be from the past, for that matter!”

  “I know,” the admiral reminded him. “I was there.”

  “Well, then?”

  The admiral placed the palms of his hands together. “Jean-Luc,” he began, and noted the surprised expression of the Enterprise captain upon hearing his first name spoken by the man he still thought of as a subordinate. “Jean-Luc…you understand the tremendous risk I’ve taken by coming back here. You know, as well as I, the Starfleet regulations against any sort of interference with the time stream.”