by Peter David
"Is the Daughter of the Fifth House all right?" asked one of the Peace Keepers urgently.
The doctor was doing a light scan and shaking her head in
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dismay. "Apparently she came to briefly, but now she's unconscious again. She overstrained herself, trying to fight him off."
"She is your concern, not mine," Mudak said as he hauled the insensate Riker to his feet. "I have my package; I'll be leaving now."
"The hell you will."
It had been Wendy Roper Berq who had spoken, and she was blocking his way. She was two heads shorter than he, but that didn't seem to matter to her. "I don't care what you say. That's Will Riker."
"You have no say in the matter, woman. Be glad I don't arrest you for interfering with the rightful recapturing of a Cardassian criminal."
"Save the threats, bone face," Wendy shot back. "I've got friends at the Federation Embassy. I already contacted them while you were busy smashing in the door. They've contacted the port and issued instructions that your ship is not to budge from there until we get, for ourselves, firsthand confirmation from Starfleet that Will Riker is back on Earth. And if he's not, then God help you, you crinkle-headed creep, because you just assaulted a Starfleet officer and I'm going to make it my personal mission to make sure that you're the one who's stuck in a prison camp until your idea of a good day is one where you can gum down your food without too much pain. Do we understand each other?"
Mudak stared at her impassively, and then said, "Former lover, I take it?"
"Drop dead."
He smiled humorlessly. "I assume that's a yes."
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CHAPTER
15
/dr
imiral Jellico couldn't believe that he had just gotten yet another communique about the whereabouts of Commander William Riker. It seemed like just the other day that he'd been contacted by the Federation attache in charge of Cardassian affairs. Jellico made it clear to him that he was not in the habit of discussing the whereabouts of Starfleet personnel with liaisons to the Cardassians, but when informed that Tom Riker had escaped from Lazon II, he reconsidered.
On that basis, Jellico judged that the situation warranted his at least informing the Attache that Riker was Earthside. Of course, it wasn't as if Jellico trusted Will Riker either; naturally he had checked.
Yet now a message had come in from Betazed, from the embassy. Apparently Tom Riker had surfaced on Betazed, but he was insisting that he was, in fact, William Riker, and at least one person on Betazed believed him.
"Murphy," Jellico called to his aide in the front office, "put me through to Commander Riker's apartment, would you, please?"
"Yes, sir," came Murphy's voice from outside.
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On Betazed, Gart Xerx walked into his office and was stunned to see Mudak sitting behind his desk, feet propped up. "What are you doing here?" hissed Gart.
"I thought we would have a chat, Gart," Mudak said, his dark eyes flashing with .. . amusement? Anger?
"We have nothing to chat about." Gart quickly tried to hustle Mudak away from his desk. "If someone should see you here . .." He shuddered at the thought. "Go. Just go. Just. .."
Mudak had risen from the chair, but now he lashed out with one powerful hand and grabbed Gart by the throat. He slammed him against the wall, and all the while his face remained impassive. One would have been hard-pressed to characterize him as someone who enjoyed his work. Gart pulled at Mudak's hand, trying to pry it loose, but Mudak wasn't releasing him. Instead he slowly started to push Gart up the wall, an inch at a time, Gart's feet dangling off the ground and air not getting through to his lungs.
"You have been very useful as an information peddler to Cardassia, Gart. My people and I have appreciated that." He angled his head as if examining a small bug. "However ... it was our understanding that you were supposed to be working exclusively for us. You were not to deal with the Klingons . .. or the Romulans ... or the Jem'Hadar ... just us. An information peddler who can read minds and is unscrupulous enough to pass that information on is a valuable commodity. But part of that value is the exclusivity. If you learn of matters regarding other races and pass them on to us, that is useful. If, on the other hand, you learn things from us ... and relay them to other customers ... that is a bad thing. A very ... bad thing. Do we understand each other?"
Gart managed to get out, "Ess . . . esss ..."
"Is that a yes, Gart?"
Gart wasn't able to respond. Instead he was too busy gritting his teeth, his jaw looking like it was beginning to merge with the upper part of his skull.
Mudak opened his hand and Gart slid to the floor. He lay there for a moment, gasping.
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"I believe I know," Mudak said conversationally, "what is going through your mind, Gart. You are hedging your bets, preparing for the future. You have looked at the way of the galaxy, seen the forces that are massing out there . . . and come to realize, despite any high-flown protestations to the contrary, that Betazed is a target. And if that should happen, if Betazed should fall to conquerors, why .. . you believe that if you were cooperative before the conquest happened, then you would receive favored status after the conquest. To that end, it seemed reasonable to me that you might be dealing with other parties as well."
"You . .. you suspect me ... even though you have no proof?" Gart managed to get out, rubbing his throat in pain.
"I suspect you because you are pretentious and full of yourself, Gart, and you think that you are very, very clever. And you may indeed be clever. It might indeed be in your interest to deal with a multitude of 'exclusive' customers so that you have friends on all sides. But let me warn you of something, Gart," and Mudak knelt next to Gart, who was still seated on the floor, and tapped him at the base of his throat. "If this world is conquered, it doesn't matter who does it. It doesn't matter what happens to Cardassia, or if the entire Cardassian Empire falls. Through it all, one truth remains: If you double-deal, or betray anything that you learn from me or anyone else who has information that is useful and/or hurtful to Cardassia, then I swear I will come back here, Gart. I will find a way, even if every other Cardassian is dead. I will come back, I will find you .. . and I will kill you. Do we understand each other, Gart?"
Slowly Gart nodded.
Mudak rose and smiled thinly. "I'm pleased we had this chat then. I have arranged for the transfer of credits to your private account to cover your providing us with the information about Riker's whereabouts. As always, I know that we can count on your continued discretion . . . can we not?"
Gart nodded once more as Mudak said, "A pleasure doing business with you, as always," and walked out the door, to
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head over to the embassy and await word from Starfleet as to the identity of his captive.
Jellico continued to go through some routine duty-roster material until Murphy informed him, "Sir ... got Commander Riker for you."
Turning to the screen on his wall, Jellico said, "Put him through." He leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers, and waited. A moment later, Riker's image appeared on the screen. He looked as if he had just been roused from a deep slumber, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and Jellico remembered the time difference. At Riker's location, it was about one in the morning. "Commander," Jellico said briskly.
"Admiral. Didn't I just hear from you?"
"I'm afraid so, Commander. But I needed to verify your whereabouts."
"Admiral, with all respect, I wish I knew why you were so interested as to where I am at any given moment. Do you think I'm just going to run out of here at the first opportunity?"
"No, Commander. In point of fact, this has to do with Tom."
"I see."
"You'll probably be relieved to know that he's been apprehended on Betazed."
"I see," Riker said again.
"Or .. . perhaps you're not relieved," Jellico continued. "Perhaps you have a few . . . regrets? He is,
after all, you. Or do you feel that he got what's coming to him?"
Riker put up his hands and shook his head. "I really would prefer not to get into this with you, Admiral. Whatever your opinion on the matter is, is fine with me."
"Well. Good to see you're finally beginning to treat superior officers with the proper respect, Commander. Enjoy your assignment shortly at the Academy. Jellico out." Riker blinked off the screen, and Jellico said to himself with growing confidence, "I didn't think he'd had the nerve to leave against orders. When all is said and done, Riker knows when to knuckle under. Murphy!" he called.
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"Yes, sir."
"Send a message back to Betazed. Without providing information as to his whereabouts, assure them that Will Riker is with us. Tell them that we can verify Commander Hiker's whereabouts, and we can personally assure them that he is nowhere near Betazed." He nodded to himself. "There. That should put an end to that problem once and for all."
Roger Tang had just been in the process of closing up his tavern for the night when the small computer console tucked neatly under his bar said, "Incoming call on private channel Riker Alpha."
"Origin?"
"Starfleet Planetary Headquarters, office Admiral Jellico."
"Good timing," murmured Tang. "Ten minutes later, I would've been out of here. Computer .. . activate holosuite B, run program Riker One Kiss-Up, and patch through call."
"Acknowledged," the computer said in its flat voice.
Deciding he needed some amusement, Tang then strolled over to the holosuite and stepped just inside the door. Inside the suite was a perfectly serviceable re-creation of Riker's apartment, and seated at his desk-looking appropriately bleary-eyed, since Tang had thought to work in a real-time coordination component-was "Riker."
It had been a fairly simple program to build, really. A holographic representation of Riker, designed to handle straightforward queries from interested parties . . . particularly Starfleet personnel. This Jellico, in particular, had been one that Riker had been especially keen about watching out for. So in addition to the straightforward program that passed for Riker's presence, Tang and Will had created an additional tweak to it that Tang had code-named "Kiss-Up." The problem was that, because Riker was in a hurry, there hadn't been a great deal of time to put together a holoprogram that would be adept enough to handle everything thrown at it. So Tang had rigged the holo-Riker with simple, failsafe responses. If holo-Riker was handed a piece of information that he was previ-
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I M Z A D
II
ously unaware of, he would just respond with "I see," "I understand," "All right," and other neutral phrases. If the Admiral began posing questions to him that were beyond the holo-Riker's ability to articulate reasonable responses to, then holo-Riker was programmed with half a dozen replies that were exactly the type of thing that Jellico would want to hear, ranging from noninflammatory to deferring to the admiral's thoughts on the matter. These phrases included, "I really would prefer not to get into this with you, Admiral," "Admiral, I think you've really said it best," "Whatever your opinion on the matter is, is fine with me," and "Who am I to argue?"
Of course, the fakery wouldn't hold up under close inspection. If Jellico or anyone else took the transmissions and relayed them to the Starfleet Transmission Analysis Section, they would be able to discern within a matter of minutes that they were talking to a hologram. Riker couldn't cover all the bases. But Tang had the sneaking suspicion that Jellico's own ego was their best defense. The admiral very likely simply wouldn't believe that Riker would take off against orders, and therefore would be satisfied with a cursory check as to Riker's whereabouts.
When the conversation was over and Jellico's image vanished from the screen, Tang called, "Computer, end program." The ersatz Riker and room interior disappeared, and Tang nodded with satisfaction. "Well, I just saved your butt again, Commander. Your secret remains safe, and I'll tell you, when you get back to Earth ... you are going to owe me big time."
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CHAPTER
16
Wo
forf could still see the water closing over his head. There was blackness everywhere, water filling up his lungs. He was thrusting out desperately in all directions, spinning in circles, darkness and cold everywhere.
Then he realized that he wasn't under water anymore. He was in the vacuum of space, just as helpless and confused, trying to remember how he had gotten there and desperately trying to figure out which way lay safety. The cold was cutting through to the bone. He felt completely paralyzed, hopelessness and despair settling in on him.
That was when he started to hear the beeping. In a distant way, he realized that he'd been hearing it for some time, but he had no idea for how long. After a moment, he recognized the sound: It was the beeping from some sort of medical monitor.
He did not even realize his eyes had been closed, and yet now he opened them.
A Klingon was looking dow" at him. It was not anyone he knew, and he wondered how hi the world another Klingon had wound up in deep space with him. This new Klingon was clean-shaven, which in and of itself wa something of an
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oddity. His hair was tied back on either side, and gray flecked his thick eyebrows.
Then, once piece at a time, Worf s awareness of his whereabouts began to stitch itself together. He was no longer under water, that much was obvious. Nor, clearly, was he in space. That still left him, however, with a lot of possibilities.
"Worf," said the Klingon. "The monitors indicate that you are conscious. Are you?"
"Yes," Worf said slowly. His voice sounded strange to him, as if he hadn't spoken in some time. He felt a strain in his vocal cords as well. "Yes ... I am ..."
"Good. In answer to the question that is probably next in your mind, I am Dr. Kwon, and you are in the personal medical facility of the leader of the High Council."
"Gowron?!" Worf tried to sit up, and it was at that point that he realized he had a medical scanner mounted across him, holding him in place.
"Yes, Gowron, at least for the moment," said Kwon. "Then again, such matters tend to change so quickly, it is hard to say for sure."
"Then I am on homeworld. How did I-"
"Get here? Gowron desired to see you, to speak to you about matters of some urgency. We were able to learn that you were on Betazed, and tracked you there . . . only to arrive just as you apparently were on the losing end of an altercation with some Romulans."
"Romulans . . ."
Then it all snapped back together for Worf. The fleeting images had been tumbling over themselves in his head, trying to sort themselves out, but now they came completely together for him once more. "Romulans! Yes! There was a battle, they-"
"They wounded you rather severely," Kwon said. "You sustained more damage than I think you were truly aware of at the time. When the ship dispatched by Gowron showed up, you had just tumbled into a lake and were sinking fast. We beamed you out of the lake, and were at that point more than
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prepared to attend to the Romulans as well. However, upon seeing our arrival the Romulans took the opportunity to depart the area as quickly as possible. Cloaked and vanished. Typical. Surprise attacks with uneven odds, those the Romulans are more than happy to engage in. But an equal fight with a prepared foe, and the Romulans would sooner leave such matters to others."
"So they got away?"
"The Klingon vessel attempted a pursuit, I understand, but the Romulans, well.. . you know their knack for stealth. They got away, I am afraid. Furthermore, you were in poor enough shape when you were fished out from the lake that it was felt putting you into stasis and getting you here as quickly as possible was the preferred course of action."
"Blast! What about Alexander? And Deanna? And-"
Kwon put up his hands in an endeavor to quiet Worf down. "I do not know anything about any of the matters you are asking about."
"I must go to see Gowron."
"You," Kwon said firmly, "are going to stay here until I feel that you are sufficiently strong enough to leave."
Worf sat up.
The fact that the scanner was atop him, theoretically holding him down, did not slow him in the least. It broke clear off the bed and fell, in several pieces, to the floor.
Nonplussed, Kwon promptly said, "I will inform Gowron that you will be right along."
"And those are my concerns, Worf."
Gowron, paranoid as always, had chosen a fairly secluded place for his meeting with Worf: They were in the middle of a desert.
Hardened ground stretched in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Worf, wearing a full set of Klingon leathers and armor, walked slowly next to Gowron, his hands draped behind his back and his hair loose and fluttering in the faint
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breeze that was rolling along the desert surface. Gowron had just explained to him the current status of the Federation's apparent budding alliance with the Romulans, as well as the other concerns that preyed upon him.
Before he had done that, however, he had given Worf detailed information as to what had occurred with the Romulans on Betazed. The infonnation, supplied through K'hanq, was quite detailed and thorough. As Gowron told Worf of the disappearance of Deanna Troi and Alexander, and the capture of Tom Riker, he watched Worf s expression carefully to see just how he took the news. Worf, commendably, betrayed nothing in his face. "Good, Worf, good," he had observed. "A true warrior does not betray the impact that a loss has upon him, no matter what." Worf had simply nodded at the compliment and then listened patiently as Gowron had gone off on his own concerns about the future of the Klingon Empire.
When Gowron had finished, Worf said, "If those are indeed your concerns, Gowron . .. worries that the Federation will betray the empire ... then your concerns are misplaced."
