Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

by Peter David [lit]

night while you were asleep, he must have shot you up

  with something to make sure you stayed asleep--or

  perhaps even something that induced sleepwalking. He

  brought you out to the Guardian, used you in your

  sleeping state to open the force field, returned

  you to where you were sleeping, stepped into the Guardian

  ..."

  "And the rest is history," said Blair.

  Riker smiled. "Not anymore."

  Moments later, Mary Mac had enlisted

  Blair's aid in dragging the unconscious Mar

  Loc away, vowing that when she got through with her

  report to the Federation science council,

  Mar Loc was going to be sent somewhere where time could

  truly be appreciated ... an Orion

  prison (for his crimes against Mary Mac), where

  life was so difficult that days tended to pass like

  years.

  "I want you to understand, Admiral," Data

  said slowly as they stared into the glowing arch of the

  Guardian of Forever, "that I am truly sorry

  for my actions."

  "It's all right, Data. On the face of it

  ... what you did, or tried to do, was correct."

  "Curious ... in my efforts to kill

  Deanna Troi, I made several mistakes.

  I did not intend to, but I did. They were almost

  clumsy in nature."

  "Perhaps, Data, you did it on purpose.

  Perhaps you wanted to be stopped."

  Data looked at Riker with curiosity.

  "Is that possible?"

  "Of course it's possible. One of the key things

  about being human, Data ... is that you don't

  always know why you do the things you do."

  "How very odd. I must admit ... I did

  feel somewhat like Brutus."

  "Ah, but Brutus, remember, was an

  honorable man," pointed out Riker. "The

  important thing is that it's all worked out for the

  best."

  "Has it?"

  Riker looked at Data speculatively.

  "What do you mean?"

  Data gestured around them. "While we are on

  this planet, Admiral, in the heart of the

  temporal vortex ... we are untouched

  by whatever changes might have been made by your

  reparations. When Mar Loc originally altered

  time, we--and our memories--were simply

  altered with it. We had no awareness that anything was

  different. Now, however, we were at the center of the

  change. Although you were the architect of the restoration,

  the actual changes were made without us being a part of

  them in the here and now. When we leave this world ...

  there is no certainty as to what will happen to us.

  Our memories may shift to accommodate the

  new time stream. Or we may retain our

  memories, but find ourselves in a strange new

  environment. There is even a remote

  possibility that we may simply blink out of

  existence, if we do not exist as entities in this

  time stream."

  "I don't think that's going to happen. And you

  know why, Data? Because I meant what I said

  earlier. I think that this thing"--Riker pointed to the

  Guardian--?is God's window. And I don't

  think that God would have let us in through his window if

  he didn't intend for us to live in his house."

  "That's very spiritual, Admiral."

  "I didn't use to be a spiritual person, but

  I had a good teacher."

  Riker gazed up at the swirling skies, the

  vast colored streaks and the miasma of temporal

  rifts that formed the heavens above the Forever World.

  Distracted, he said, "I really don't know

  what else there is to say, Data, except

  ..."

  "Let's get the hell out of here?" suggested

  Data.

  Not looking away from the skies, Riker

  simply nodded. "I think that probably covers

  it," he said, but he wasn't paying attention.

  And he realized that in the sky's swirling and

  whirlpool shape, he saw a painting he'd seen

  a lifetime ago. ...

  "We're going to face a new and different

  universe, Admiral. Are you not at all

  afraid?"

  There were reds and purples, and then, in the midst

  of that vast mixture of cosmic existence, Riker

  saw a face. ...

  "No, Data," he said quietly. "I'm not

  afraid at all. I think it's going to work out just

  fine."

  And he called out, as he had called out in

  hopelessness and despair for year upon year of

  desolation.

  And the answer came.

  Whether it was from within him, or whether it came from

  somewhere out there in the galaxy, from someone who was the

  better part of all that he was, he couldn't be

  sure.

  But it was there just the same. Tears came to his

  eyes as he heard, in his head, the ^ws that he had

  waited half a lifetime to hear. Sweet and

  musical, in a voice filled with promise.

  And the ^ws were:

  Welcome home ... Imzadi ...