While en route to her quarters for some much needed rest, Troi spotted Anh Hoang getting out of a turbolift. She must also live on this deck, the counselor surmised. She put on her professional smile and approached the woman.
“Good evening, Anh,” she said.
Hoang was startled, having been lost in her own thoughts. She returned the greeting, but seemed uncomfortable standing there in the corridor.
“How has your day been?” Troi asked.
“Uneventful, unlike yours,” the engineer replied. “I hear it’s growing worse down there.”
“Yes, it’s bad, and it’s likely to get worse before we’re done. Right now we don’t even know what we’re dealing with.”
“More death and destruction for the Federation,” Hoang muttered. The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. Troi could only imagine the memories this mission was bringing back for this poor woman.
“Actually, Anh,” Troi began carefully, “these problems are internal, and I’m sure they can be resolved peacefully.”
“One can hope,” Anh replied.
“We intend to do more than hope,” Troi said. “Look, I think it would be a good idea for us to set up another appointment. How is 0900 for you? I’ll post a note to Mr. La Forge so you can report for duty late tomorrow.”
“I guess so,” Hoang said.
“My office, then. Have a pleasant evening,” Troi said, and continued to her quarters.
She entered the cabin, keeping the lighting at half strength. She took off her uniform, placing it in the recycling bin, and then brushed her hair for several minutes, feeling the tension ebb from her body. She looked appraisingly at her eyes, saw the stress, and shook her head sadly. There would be plenty of death, stress, and tension, just as she promised Anh. And she’d be in the thick of it.
After washing up, she slipped under the sheets and lay on her side. Outside the windowport were the stars, which she always found comforting. Some twinkled, reflecting through the window. Others seemed still and peaceful. She thought of those as her eyelids grew heavy, and in less than a minute, she slipped into sleep.
“Daddy!”
A bundle of arms and legs seemed to suddenly envelop Seer before he could even clear the doorway. Riker, standing behind him, tried to count and thought there might have been four children, all under eight, tackling their father. Seer let himself tumble to the ground, rolled onto his back, and hefted one girl over his head. He set her down and began peeling the others off him.
“Come on in, Will,” Seer said between laughs. Riker entered the home and caught the whiff of something fresh cooking. It seemed pungent with ingredients he couldn’t identify. He stepped around the tangle of children and took in the house. Similar to the farmhouse they had just left, it was narrow and long, but this was two stories tall, with a pitched roof. The room he stood in was a common living area, with couches of differing sizes lining the walls. Shelving bordered the room above the couches; it was filled with pottery, photographs, and small boxes. Things were somewhat haphazard, giving the room a comfortable, lived-in look. The color scheme ran to earth tones, but everything worked in harmony, so careful thought had gone into the choices of woods, paints, and fabrics.
“My one,” a soft voice called.
“My only,” Seer replied, finally getting to his feet. The children squealed in happiness but were finally calming down. Two, both girls, stared at Riker, clearly unused to seeing a human in their living room.
A woman Riker immediately classified as lovely walked into the room and embraced Seer. The protocol officer seemed to cast off his officious nature and gave her a bear hug. They whispered private things between them for a moment. Turning away from the sight, Riker crouched down and smiled at the children.
“Hi, I’m Will,” he said.
The two girls were joined by their two brothers. They all stared at Riker, uncertainty in their eyes.
“It’s okay,” he assured them. “I’ve spent the day with your father, and he’s told me a lot about you.” That seemed to work a bit, as their expressions changed to questioning looks.
“One of you is a dancer,” he said, studying the four with mock seriousness. He then pointed to the boy farthest from him. “You.”
“Yes,” the boy said in a small, high-pitched voice.
“And one of you is a painter,” Riker said, considering the others.
“Me!” a girl shouted.
“They’re all special,” the woman said. She approached Riker and crouched down next to him. “She is a racer, fastest runner in her school, and he’s my climber. And I somehow gave birth to them all. My name is Dorina of Anann.”
“Will Riker. A pleasure to meet you.”
Dorina quickly named the four children, all with the formal “of Anann” at the end of each name. Then they stood up and she led Riker and Seer from the great room. Down a hallway, they went left into a dining room. Riker was surprised to see how long the table was, with chairs enough for twelve.
“We live with my parents,” Dorina explained. “And of course, we need seating for guests such as yourself. Hungry, my one?”
“Very much so,” Seer admitted. “We’ve had something little better than rations, topped off with a strong ale you’d love.”
“And you let him fly?”
“Well,” Riker admitted, joining in the teasing tenor of the conversation, “he knew the controls far better than I did.”
“I’ve invited Will to spend the night so we can get an early start tomorrow,” Seer said. “Our hunt for his father has been pretty fruitless.”
“Tell me all about it as you eat. Both of you, go wash and be back here in three minutes. It’ll be filling but not too much since it’s late,” she told them. With that, she left the room, crossed the hall, and entered the kitchen directly opposite.
Seer looked over at Riker and grinned. “That went well,” he said. “You need rest. We both need it, the creators know. The trail is cool to begin with, so we’re not losing anything by getting rest.”
Riker wasn’t so sure about the trail but totally agreed about the need for rest.
“And thank you for the invitation,” Riker added.
The men did as they were told, and Riker could hear a much older voice corral the children and shoo them off to the bedrooms, farther back in the house. Clearly, waiting up for Seer was a treat, and it was well past time for them to be asleep. By local time, it was nearly midnight, and that explained a lot of his exhaustion. The Enterprise automatically adjusted its schedules to match the local capital’s time, given their extended stay, so he imagined the night shift was well under way.
Riker had taken advantage of the flight back to the capital to check in with Picard. The conversation on both sides was less than promising. He heard the disappointment in the captain’s voice with regard to the lack of direction from the government. He did approve, though, of Picard’s relying on Vale to help keep things from spiraling further out of control. In turn, he explained that despite their best efforts, tracking his father was fruitless. He was despondent to hear that things had grown worse, but at least the death toll remained at two. The blame directed at the Federation seemed foolish but somewhat understandable. While he enjoyed touring the planet, nothing of value had been learned regarding Kyle’s whereabouts or his activities on the planet. Suspicions remained, more on Riker’s part than Picard’s, but that was to be expected.
Riker had then contacted Troi, missing her voice. Seeing the farm couple reminded him of how much he had come to rely on her presence. Once more, he congratulated himself on rekindling their romance. They were quite happy and content with one another, but watching the farmers and now Seer and Dorina, he saw there could be more.
Much more.
He finished washing up and stopped thinking with his heart and let his stomach be his guide. Seer was already at the table, seated at one corner, while Dorina sat at the head. A large bright orange earthenware pot stood on a trivet, steam rising.
Bowls and cutlery were set out for just two, although a beaded cup was before Dorina.
“Sit, Commander,” she said.
“Will, please,” he insisted, preferring informality while a guest in someone’s home.
Dorina stood and ladled out something thicker than a soup but not quite a stew. It contained some form of barley and plenty of colorful vegetables. She next sliced thick slabs of bread and indicated a bright violet spread.
She filled her husband in on some of the doings at home while the men ate, and then she asked about their experiences. Seer was the perfect host, letting Riker add his own commentary and observations, while merely correcting the occasional mispronunciation. Each slip of Riker’s tongue earned him a grin from the woman.
The brief meal over, Riker nodded his head toward Dorina. “It has been a long time since I enjoyed something so much. I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality—especially on short notice.”
“Being the wife of a protocol officer, you get used to these things,” she admitted. When Riker insisted on clearing the table, she let him, and he was glad, since it gave him a chance to check out the kitchen setup. He asked about certain tools and the herbs used to season the soup. They chatted amiably while Seer went to check on the children. Riker was enjoying the respite after a long, ultimately frustrating day.
However, it had been a long day, and he began stifling yawns. Dorina took him by the hand and led him toward the back of the house, where a staircase led them to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, she opened the first door on the left and let Riker cross the threshold.
“You should find everything you need here,” Dorina said.
“I’m sure I will,” Riker said. “Thank you again.”
“Get your sleep. Seer says you want an early start, but first, breakfast.”
He grinned. “Absolutely.”
Moq was somewhat overweight by human standards, but for a Bolian he was considered in excellent shape. He had served aboard the Enterprise-E ever since the ship was commissioned, and he’d performed his job well. There hadn’t been many calls for a botanist during the Dominion War, but he had used his time well, conducting research on several worlds ravaged by the Jem’Hadar. His results had proven useful during the rebuilding.
The botany lab was normally bright, but when Moq was on duty, he preferred to keep the lighting dim, letting the display screens appear that much brighter. More alive, he told Crusher when she had asked. The lab was filled with chambers for experiments, microscopes at long tables, and other equipment. Crusher herself rarely needed to visit the lab, but thought Moq would appreciate using his own equipment to help study the situation.
“Right on time, Doctor,” he said by way of greeting. They agreed to meet six hours after the study began, allowing Moq at least half an hour to look at the compiled results. She noticed that a long, slender green leaf was laid out under the microscope, and she made a note to herself to take a look at the culprit.
“What do you have, Moq?”
“This plant is tenacious, growing wild on all four continents and eighty-seven percent of the islands,” the Bolian explained. He activated a screen near Crusher and the planet appeared with a bright green overlay indicating the presence of the liscom plant. Both studied it in silence for several moments, the doctor thinking that under normal circumstances, they’d never think twice about a plant this ubiquitous. Of course, this situation was anything but normal.
“Tell me about the plant,” she said, breaking the silence.
“It’s wild, not used for food by the people, but seems to be liked well enough by several species of insect. From what I can tell, it’s generally ignored by the people.”
“But it does emit a gas that’s hurting the population,” Crusher said gravely. She tucked her hands deep in her lab coat and paused to think. There was no point in upsetting the ecosystem to remove the plant. And it was probably an impossible task to eradicate only one form of plant life.
She walked over to the microscope, her touch activating the viewer. Peering into it, she looked at an unremarkable plant, so much like the ones she had seen on countless other planets. And yet, it was a silent harbinger of death.
“Anything further to add?”
“Not really, Doctor,” Moq replied. “I ran it through the normal planet survey tests, and they matched the results from the original Bader survey ship. It’s just a plant.”
“Nothing ‘just’ about it, Moq. Nothing at all,” Crusher said sadly.
Chapter Seven
POURING OUT TEA into his cup, Jean-Luc seemed to savor the aroma, using his vintner’s nose to check the bouquet of his beloved Earl Grey. As he sipped, Beverly reached for the fruit platter, appreciating the rainbow presentation. Not for the first time, she marveled at his thoughtfulness. Jean-Luc always put his whole heart into preparing the breakfast they shared each morning in his cabin.
“Let me guess, you were up by six hundred, reading reports from the watch command,” she said, teasing him for his predictability.
“Oh, more than that,” he said casually. “I also checked the latest reports from Starfleet Command and the other sector ships in the area. Spoke with two other captains and checked in with Commander Riker.” He reached for a muffin and a creamy spread, a smile on his face.
“Any luck finding his father?”
“None yet,” he said quietly.
Time for a change of subject, Beverly thought. But what could they discuss that would lighten the mood?
Certainly not the lack of progress in her liscom gas research.
So they ate in companiable silence for a minute until Picard began talking about some of the galactic scuttlebutt he heard from his fellow captains: promotions and reassignments and the like. Good. Some harmless gossip would cheer them both. The change in topic worked its magic until Picard raised another troubling matter.
“The brass seems to think we need a looking over,” Picard said, referring to an upcoming inspection tour.
“You think this is related to the demon ship?”
“No. All the ships this far out are on the schedule,” he explained. “It just strikes me as a waste. From everything I read, the rebuilding has been hampered by supply issues, so the schedule for putting ships on line has slipped. Those are problems they should be focusing on, not whether or not there’s dust in a crewman’s quarters.”
“Well, dust can be a virulent breeding ground,” Crusher said.
He smiled at her, the mood changed. “Thank you, Beverly.”
“It’s what any good CMO does,” she replied. She hadn’t yet mentioned Yerbi’s job offer to Jean-Luc, and she had no intention of doing so today either.
“So, what’s your plan this morning?”
“I need time to review everything. There’s an awful lot of information to absorb and process. Medical mysteries take more time than most other problems.”
“Indeed. Well, stay here if you think that’s the right thing to do. I’ll be beaming back down to see Morrow within the hour.”
“How’s he handling this?”
“Actually, he’s one of the more impressive ambassadors I’ve encountered,” Picard said as he patted his lips with a cloth napkin and rose. “Rather refreshing.”
“And cause for hope,” Crusher finished.
“May it stay that way,” he replied with a smile. Gesturing, he led her out into the corridor as they went their separate ways.
Riker woke up, his senses alert. Someone else was in the room. He looked up quickly, hands balled into fists, ready in case the violence had invaded Seer’s home.
It was one of the girls. The racer, he thought, blinking at her. She just stared at him.
“Good morning,” he managed, smiling but confused.
“Hi,” she replied, her voice high and soft, not scared.
“Can I help you?”
“No.”
“What are you doing in my room?”
“Watching you. Ma sent me
to wake you for breakfast.”
“I see. Well, you were up late last night. Shouldn’t you still be in bed?”
“No. We don’t get a lot of visitors. Ma said this was special.”
Riker considered that and continued to smile at the notion of children, of home life, and of options he had let slip by. But rather than fall back into reverie or, worse, fall asleep, he sat up. The girl just continued to watch, and he was now feeling conspicuous. Unsure of social customs, he decided to stay in bed until he was alone.
“Well, then, if I’m to get up, you need to step out and let me get ready. Why don’t you go help your mother with breakfast?”
“Will you wear your uniform again?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m here on official business and need to look the part.”
“Good,” she said and turned to leave. As she opened the door, cooking aromas entered the small room, and he sniffed a few times. Then he inhaled deeply, trying to sort through the smells. There was that bread again and…coffee?
Swinging his feet to the floor, Riker rose and looked over at the small metallic case decorated with the Enterprise insignia. Troi was thoughtful enough to send down toiletries and a fresh uniform. He snapped open the case and sorted through the contents, pleased she knew him so well. Then something caught his eye and he chuckled to himself. Hefting the razor and small canister of shaving gel, he looked at the rare handwritten note from his lover. “In case you change your mind, Imzadi,” she had written.
A few minutes later, a freshly washed but still bearded Riker strolled downstairs and went directly to the kitchen. Dorina was busying herself over a stovetop while two of the children, including his morning visitor, carried things from kitchen to dining room. There were heaping platters of food, some of which he could only guess at, while others were obviously cooked vegetables and fresh fruits. And a pot of coffee.
“Good morning,” he said, announcing his presence.
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