Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 2-Triangle

by Peter David [lit]

  No comment was forthcoming from Picard, but they both knew what he was thinking: If it hadn't been for Picard and the Enterprise stepping in at key times during the Klingon civil war and Gowron's struggle with the house of Duras, the odds were sensational that Gowron would never have gained control at

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  all. Instead Picard simply asked for a clarification: "If not me in particular, than to what are you referring?"

  "I am referring to the Federation's current flirtation with the Romulans."

  Picard was not entirely unprepared for that. During his trip out to Qo'noS, he had had more than enough time to go over in his mind all the possibilities of things that might be disturbing Gowron. The recent Federation involvement with the Romulans, and acquisition of a cloaking device, was certainly foremost among them. "Ah," said Picard. "If that is all that is bothering you, Chancellor, I can assure you . .. our alliance with the Klingon Empire remains one of the centerpieces of our current state of peace."

  "Current state of peace?" Gowron snorted. "Picard, are you looking at the same galaxy that I am? There is more consternation, more tumult nowadays than ever before. At times such as these, any alliance is in question."

  "Not alliances forged with the Federation," Picard said firmly.

  "You speak for the Federation, do you?" Kahless inquired.

  "I'm simply a Starfleet captain. If you wanted a Federation negotiator, you could easily have sent for one. In point of fact, however ... I do not see anything that requires negotiating. You are simply stating concerns, which you are more than entitled to do. Since you requested my presence, I would assume that-at this point-you feel more hi the need of a friend for a sounding board, rather than someone to speak with you in an official capacity. Am I correct?"

  "Quite correct," confirmed Gowron. "And as a friend . .. we can speak with you, friend to friend, and tell you what it is we desire."

  Picard leaned forward, elbows on the table and wearing a look of patient amiability. "And what would that be? Friend to friend?"

  "We desire that the Federation immediately cut off any talks with the Romulans," Gowron informed him. "That they

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  return the cloaking device given them by the Romulan Star Empire. And that they make clear to the Romulans that there will be no further congress of any kind."

  "The Romulans are not trustworthy and we, as allies of the Federation, feel threatened that they are being dealt with in any capacity," Kahless added. "Furthermore, we consider it not only an insult to our honor, but a threat to our internal security."

  "We have not forgotten that the Romulans aided the Duras family in their attempts to overthrow me. You should not, either."

  "Gowron ... people who were once enemies can become allies," Picard said patiently. "I should not have to point that out, for if that were not the case, then obviously you and I would not be sitting here today."

  "I agree," said Gowron. "And allies... can also become enemies. That is the status between the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Star Empire. And it is our opinion that the Romulans are manipulating the Federation for the purpose of continuing their vendetta against us... against the Vulcans ... and, ultimately, against the Federation itself."

  "A Federation that is apparently too foolish to realize that it is being played for a fool."

  "I do not appreciate being thought of as a fool, Kahless. And Gowron ... you have voiced your concern. I understand that. But there is simply no way that I can assure you that the Federation is going to break off its current contact with the Romulans. I admit, it is a dangerous galaxy out there. The Federation is at peace, but you are correct: It may very well not remain so. With that being the case, doesn't it make sense for us to have as many allies as possible?"

  "The Federation's concerns are its own, and our concerns are ours," Gowron said. "And right now, our concern is the Federation and the Romulans. We do not approve of the direction that this relationship appears to be going. We do not wish it to continue."

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  "I take it," Picard said slowly, "that you are merely stating a concern?"

  There was a long pause, and suddenly there was a knife in Kahless's hand. He swung it up, around, and down and it slammed point-first into the tabletop with a deafening thud. It quivered there long after Kahless removed his hand.

  "Kahless," Gowron observed, "has something of a flair for the dramatic. He prefers to express himself with visual aids."

  The symbolism of the knife in the table was not at all lost on Picard. "You are saying that you would sever relations with the Federation if we continue to seek improved relations with the Romulans?"

  "There is no retaliation that we will rule out," Kahless replied, "up to and including a declaration of war."

  Picard couldn't believe it. "Are you insane?"

  "Far from it. I am the emperor, and the spiritual guide of my people. It would be an affront to our very spiritual core to think that the Romulans-the instigators, the assassins, the betrayers-are to be considered allies. For that is what we are speaking of, Picard. If the Federation is our ally, and the Romulans are the Federation's ally, then we are supposed to be allied with the Romulans. That is intolerable."

  "And if the Romulans were to turn and attack us, the Federation would be split in its loyalty. We could not look to you for aid. Indeed, we might have to look upon you as an enemy. Perhaps better, then," said Gowron, "to declare war now and get right to it."

  "Gowron ... Kahless ... you have stitched together an entire array of possibilities and are reacting to them before any of them have occurred."

  "That, Picard, is how one avoids ambush and sneak attack. When one is a Klingon, that is how one stays alive."

  "I appreciate that, Gowron. But I can tell you what will not be appreciated. You are, in essence, delivering an ultimatum to the Federation. The Federation, as a rule, does not generally respond well to ultimatums."

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  "'Ultimatum,'" repeated Gowron. "Ultimatum is such a cold, passionless word." "We prefer the term 'threat,'" said Kahless. And the two Klingons smiled. Which was definitely not a pleasant sight.

  Picard had been given rather generous quarters by Gowron to reside in during his stay on Qo'noS. There was one thing that Picard was rather certain of: If he suddenly felt himself in need of a bladed weapon, he need look no farther than the nearest wall. Knives, and swords of every possible shape and size, seemed to be everywhere.

  He had communicated the situation to Starfleet, and the response he had gotten back was exactly what he had suspected he was going to hear: Try and keep a lid on things. Federation resources were stretched thin enough as they were; the last thing they need was a flare-up with the Klingons. When Picard asked if there was any likelihood that a professional diplomat might be sent out to deal with the situation, the response he received was that they could think of no diplomat better qualified to deal with the situation than one Jean-Luc Picard, who-as happenstance would have it-already happened to be out there.

  In truth, Picard wasn't exactly surprised. If a formal diplomatic team was sent to Qo'noS to discuss it, Federation mandate would require several member species as part of the group. That meant that a cross-section of Federation governments would be apprised of the Klingons' concerns, and what was at present simply a bit of Klingon angst over the current state of Federation affairs would immediately be elevated to the level of "sit-u-a-tkm." And a "sit-u-a-tion" could morph into a "crisis" more quickly than anyone could give it credit for. "Crisis" led to "incident," "incident" to "confrontation," and from there ...

  Well... far better not to go there.

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  Some time later, there was a knock at Picard's door.

  Picard glanced toward a book on the nightstand, then looked back at the door and said, "Come."

  The door slid open and Picard blinked in surprise.

  "Will!" he greeted him enthusiastically. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

  And standing in t
he doorway, Riker replied, "That, Captain . . . makes two of us."

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  CHAPTER

  21

  iloting the scout ship, Worf had been somewhat concerned as he watched Riker seated next to him. After their initial discussion, Riker had lapsed into not only silence, but a state of semi-sleep. This was somewhat frustrating to Worf, because he couldn't help but feel that Riker had been less than candid about his motivations for going to Betazed. But it might very well be that now was simply not the best time to discuss it anyway.

  Riker had remained that way for hours. In a bleakly amused manner, Worf wondered just how long he would keep the ship going while waiting for Riker to make a further pronouncement as to Deanna's whereabouts. After all, at present heading and speed, they'd hit the edge of the galaxy in another fourteen years. He hoped that Riker might choose to speak up sometime before then.

  The entire thing still made Worf uneasy. It had been his intent to conduct a thorough search ... go to possible suppliers, individuals to whom Sela might have turned for supplies .. . endeavor to scan the area for warp signatures that could be traced, either from Lazon or Betazed. But this ... this operating on the strength of a psychic connection that he

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  I M Z A D I I!

  couldn't even begin to understand ... it bothered him tremendously.

  Not only that, but he also had to admit to himself that he felt a certain degree of jealousy. Not enough that Riker and Troi shared their early relationship with one another, but now they had some sort of intense mental relationship that had been magnified by Lwaxana? Here, after Deanna had told him how he should not feel in competition with Riker, he now had to deal with the concept that Riker was closer with Deanna than ever. And he hadn't even worked for it! Lwaxana had just. .. just inserted it into his head. It hardly seemed fair.

  Part of Worf s conscience told him that he shouldn't be concerned about such things. He should just be thankful that they might indeed have some means of tracking Deanna and Alexander that was quick and direct.

  Nonetheless, he couldn't help it. And he could feel resentment of Riker building within him.

  And then Riker abruptly sat up, his eyes wide. "Just ahead," he said. "Bring us out of warp, Mr. Worf."

  "Taking us out of warp," Worf confirmed. In response to his powering down of the ship, space around them settled back to normal.

  "Where are we?"

  Worf looked at him in surprise. "You are the one leading us, Commander. I would have thought you knew to where."

  "I'm linked to her, Worf, not to a starchart. Now where are we?"

  "We are," he checked quickly, "in the Lintar system. Four planets, none habitable . . . although ... Lintar Four does have a moon that has minimal. .."

  "That's it. I can feel it, just ahead."

  He could feel it.

  He could feel it.

  Worf had a sudden, unreasonable urge to slam Riker's head against the front console while shouting. "Could you feel that?!" It was not worthy of him, he knew that. But he felt that way nonetheless, a surge of jealousy such as he had not thought

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  possible. To a certain degree, it almost impressed him. It proved that he must really love Deanna.

  Either that... or he felt threatened and angry that his property was being trespassed upon.

  Moving at impulse, the scout ship approached the moon of Lintar IV. Will Riker was way forward on his seat, leaning on the control console, as if trying to push himself right through the front of the scout. Worf ran a quick sensor scan of the moon. "Sensors not providing us with any life readings thus far."

  "They could be shielded. Would take a while longer to locate them."

  "True. You are certain they are down there, though."

  "Positive."

  Worf pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I have a plan for how to locate them."

  "Let's hear it."

  "You guide the vessel to the planet's surface. There are two environment suits in storage in the rear of the vessel. We put the environment suits on, bring hand scanners for backup, and survey the surface of the moon. Once we have located the entrance into their lair, we sneak in, find Sela, capture her, use her in a hostage exchange to retrieve Alexander and Deanna, return to the scout ship, and leave the area after alerting Starfleet to their presence."

  And suddenly the sensor array lit up. Directly in front of them, space seemed to shimmer, and then a Romulan warbird materialized directly in front of them, packing approximately twenty times the fire power possessed by the scout ship.

  "Or we could surrender," suggested Will.

  "That," admitted Worf, "would probably work also."

  Tom Riker woke up and touched the other side of the bed, expecting to find the sleeping Sela. Instead it was empty, the sheet cold. She hadn't been there for a while. It was her absence that truly caused Tom to fully awaken as he sat up and rubbed his eyes in the darkness. Then the door slid open and he saw

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  Sela standing there, fully dressed. Her arms were folded and she was regarding him with open curiosity. "Will," she said. "There's been an interesting development."

  "Really," said Tom. He sat up, the covers still around him. "Have we finally determined what use we're going to put Deanna and Alexander to?"

  "Actually, yes. Yes, I think we have. Get dressed and meet me at the interrogation room on level three."

  "All right." There was something in her tone that he was less than enthused about, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was.

  He dressed quickly and headed down to where Sela had instructed him to go. As he did so, he passed assorted Romulans and noticed that they seemed to be glancing at him oddly. He wondered what their problem was.

  He entered the interrogation room. The room was actually divided into two sections. The area where Tom was entering was used for fairly straightforward, one-on-one questioning. Adjoining was a room, visible through a plexi shield, where questioning of a more intense nature, oftentimes requiring assorted medical equipment, was set up.

  There were several Romulans there, including Kressn, to whom Tom had learned to take an intense dislike. For one thing, Tom had absolutely no idea how Kressn had managed to pull that little disappearing act of his, and Sela hadn't been forthcoming in telling him. Perhaps Kressn had some sort of personal cloaking device, but if that was the case, why didn't they all have them? Tom was certain that it was important, and he disliked missing that key piece of information.

  Sela was there. And ...

  Tom came to a halt as he stood face-to-face with Will Riker. Next to Will was Worf, nodding grimly to himself.

  "Isn't this cozy," Sela asked. "Most, most intriguing." She did a slow circle of the room. "We did a DNA scan on our new arrival here and matched him against yours, Will. He's an exact duplicate. Care to explain?"

  "I would have thought he would have been more than happy to do it," said Tom.

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  "Oh, I'm sure he would. But we haven't asked him anything yet and he, being a good Starfleet officer, hasn't volunteered anything. So I'm asking you, Will: Who is this?"

  Tom didn't hesitate.

  "His name is Tom Riker," said Tom. "At least, that's what he calls himself." As he spoke, he watched Will's face, but Will kept his expression carefully neutral. Obviously Will, still uncertain about the situation, was allowing Tom to take the lead, at least for the moment. And Worf, good junior officer that he was, was looking to Will as to how to handle things.

  In quick, broad strokes, Tom outlined the bizarre set of circumstances that had led to the creation of a second Riker. He only made one minor substitution and one omission: He claimed that the other was Tom when, in fact, the other was Will. And he stated that Tom Riker had been given the rank of lieutenant and assigned to the Gandhi. . . both of which were true enough. He did not make any mention, of course, of Tom-i.e., himself-having joined the Maquis. The concept of two Rikers going wrong might be too much to try and convinc
e her of.

  Gone wrong.

  Odd ... he had never thought of himself in those terms before. He had always been able to rationalize up one side and down the other why he had taken the actions that he had. But now, seeing the unrelenting and openly contemptuous gaze of Will Riker upon him, he felt.. .

  .. . lost.

  "Incredible," Sela said at last. She glanced at Kressn and Tom couldn't help but notice that Kressn, ever so slightly, nodded. "And he is Tom .. . and you are Will. Correct?"

  "When you get right down to it, to be perfectly truthful. . . we're both Will Riker. One just calls himself something different for reference."

  And again, damn . . . Kressn nodded. It was very subtle, but something that Sela could easily have seen out of the corner of her eye and made a mental note of. Somehow, Kressn was keeping her apprised as to truth and falsehood. Perhaps he was

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  some sort of mind-reader or telepath. That would explain how he pulled his vanishing stunt; he convinced people that he wasn't there.

  Which meant that Tom was now extremely vulnerable: If Sela asked for further clarification, there was no way that Tom was going to be able to dodge it.

  Instead Sela turned to Will and said, "Is his description of the events on Nervala Four true?"

  "Reasonably."

  "My. What a curious universe we live in." And then, to his relief, Sela simply nodded, apparently satisfied with the responses she had gotten. "All right. This is most intriguing. We've gone from having no options ... to several. Most, most useful. Gentlemen ..." She stopped her circling directly in front of Worf and Will. "I'm going to offer you a deal."

  "Klingons do not deal," Worf informed her.

  "Nor do Starfleet officers," added Riker.

  "I see. That being the case, do you mind telling me how you expected to get out of here? Were you going to shoot your way out? Or perhaps you thought you'd simply ask us to turn over the Betazoid and the Klingon child to you out of the goodness of our hearts."