by Peter David
He looked around. "Into here. Didn't think
I'd get this drenched in such a short time, though."
"Typical Betazed storm," said Riker.
"You're right, Captain. I'm ready to leave."
"Very well. Crusher to Hood--"
"However--"
"Cancel," said Wesley without missing a beat.
He looked expectantly at Riker and
waited.
"However," continued Riker, "it's not quite that
simple. Lwaxana's will had an odd stipulation
--she wants me to go through her memorabilia and
catalogue it."
Crusher blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me, Captain."
"But why in the world would she want you to do that?"
Riker lightly rested his hands on Deanna's
coffin; Crusher wasn't even sure that Riker was
aware that he was doing it. It was as if he were trying
to draw strength from her. "Ostensibly because she
feels I'm best qualified--which is nonsense.
Mr. Homn is. The real reason, Wes, is
because she wants me to relive it. Relive and
remember all of it."
"But ... but why?"
"Because," he said with a sigh, "I imagine that a
day didn't pass where she didn't dwell on
it. And perhaps she's under the impression that I was
somehow able to put it past me. She credited me for
more than she herself could accomplish--which is a
compliment of sorts, I suppose. So she
wanted one last opportunity to put me through what
she's put herself through all these years."
"You don't have to do it, Admiral," said
Crusher reasonably. "Tell them you simply
can't take the additional time from your station. Tell
them what you just said--t Mr. Homn is more
qualified. Tell them--"
"Tell them whatever it takes to get me off the
hook?"
Crusher shrugged. "That's one way to put it."
"Maybe. But it's not a way that I can
subscribe to." He shook his head and
stepped away from the coffin as he said, "I'm not
going to deprive Lwaxana of her last shot at
me. I was gutless enough to try and delay my coming
to her until the last minute. I owe her this ...
I owe her something. I--"
He stopped as he realized that Crusher
wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead
Wesley's gaze was focused on Deanna's
body, which Riker had partly been blocking from
view. Riker said nothing for a moment, but instead
simply watched the starship captain. Eventually
Crusher rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if
something stinging had lodged in his eyes.
"You had a crush on her, didn't you?" said
Riker.
Wesley glanced at him. "Was it that
obvious?"
Riker shrugged. "Teenage boys are very good
at thinking they've got their feelings completely
hidden. It helps to compensate for the fact that, more
often than not, they're wearing them on their
sleeves."
Crusher let out a slow breath as if a great
weight had been lifted off him. "She was ... the
most exotic woman I'd ever seen. And you
didn't have to pretend with her. No games, no
posturing ... she just accepted you as you were. All
us guys had a thing for her, really. We'd sit
around and--"
And then Crusher flushed slightly and cleared his
throat.
Before he could continue, Riker said, "And wonder
what it would be like to--"
"Yeah," admitted Crusher. Then, sounding
slightly and amusingly defensive, considering his
age and the years that had passed, he added, "We were
just kids."
"We were all just kids. You, me, her ...
all of us. We just didn't know it at the time."
Riker smiled. "Remember that blue-green
outfit of hers?"
"Ohhh, yes. That was my favorite."
"Mine, too. Every so often, when I was feeling
frivolous, I'd put it on and romp around the
holodeck."
Crusher stared at Riker's deadpan
expression. "You ...?"
"I'm kidding, Wesley."
"Oh." He laughed uncertainly. "Oh."
"Gave you a strange mental
picture there for a second, though, didn't it?"
"Yes, sir. It did, sir."
Riker walked slowly across to the door, looking
out at the thundering rain. "What else did you and the
guys discuss?"
Crusher was looking at Deanna's coffin.
"Truthfully?"
"That's usually the best way."
"We talked about how dumb you were to be just friends
with her when you could have been so much more."
Riker looked at him askance. "Was the
nature of my personal life such public knowledge
on the Enterprise?"
Crusher shrugged. "A thousand people in an enclosed
community for years on end ... I'm sorry,
Admiral, but there just weren't all that many
secrets around."
"I see." Letting out a heavy breath,
Riker said, "For what it's worth, Captain
Crusher ... we .were "s much more."' If we
made any mistake ... or if I made any
mistake ... it was allowing myself to take too much
for granted. Like that she would always be there, like Old
Reliable. Like that, if I wanted the nature of
our relationship to change, I could do so anytime.
That was probably my biggest presumption."
They were quiet for a time, listening to the rain
falling on the structure. Every so often the thunder would
crash, and they would involuntarily jump. Crusher
could, of course, have beamed up to his ship anytime,
but instead it was clear to Riker that Wesley had
unilaterally placed himself at Riker's disposal
for however long the admiral needed him ... or
however long Crusher believed he was needed.
Riker wondered obliquely how many strings
Crusher had pulled, and how many noses he had
put out of joint, to delay whatever missions the
Hood might have in the hopper. Whatever it was that
Crusher had done, Riker found himself extremely
grateful.
"How did it happen, sir?"
"How did what happen, Mr. Crusher?"
For a moment, Wesley seemed reluctant
to put it into ^ws. "I read about it ... about how
she died. I read the formal reports. I know
what my mom told me, but at the time she was so
broken up about it that she really couldn't talk about
it much. And somehow she never wanted to discuss it,
even in later years. It hurt too much for her
... for all of us, really. But now, I
thought maybe--"
"You'd like to know what, precisely, was happening
at the time."
"Well ... I wasn't there," Crusher
reminded him. "I was off at the Academy doing
my extra year. And when I heard the news, I
felt so removed, and I ..."
"Wanted answers."
"Yes, sir. I remember, I just sat there
in my quarters, shaking my head ... I was too
/> stunned even to cry ... and I just kept saying,
"Why? Why?"'"
"And now you're hoping I might have a few whys
and wherefores."
"That's right, sir."
Riker shook his head. Then he walked toward
the door and stepped just outside, allowing the rain
to spatter on his face. The thunder cracked once
more, and over its sound, Riker called out. "I have
no answers for you, Wesley! None! But if you
want to know what happened ... I'll tell you.
You're entitled to that. God knows we all are."
THE END OF THE BEGINNING
As if it were an old-fashioned campfire,
or perhaps stories being traded in a haunted
house, Adm. William Riker sat on the
floor of the mausoleum and--holding nothing back
--spoke to Wesley Crusher of those last days.
...
CHAPTER 7
"Come."
Comdr. William Riker, upon the
commandstinvitation of his superior officer, entered the
captain's ready room. Jean-Luc Picard,
seated behind his desk, was studying his computer screen
and gestured for Riker to sit in front of him.
Riker did so, swinging the chair around and straddling
it, then waiting patiently for Picard to conclude
what he was doing.
He knew that Picard's first expression when
he looked away from the computer screen would
determine the thrust of the discussion. So Riker
breathed an inward sigh of relief when Picard
turned the computer display away and smiled up at
Riker. Apparently there wasn't going
to be any problem.
Still, it never hurt to be cautious. "You
wanted to see me, Captain?"
"Merely to touch base, Number One. How
are the delegates settling in?"
"Excellently, sir. I'd say the mood was
even somewhat jovial. The Byfrexian,
Luss, and Cordian ambassadors, and their
aides, have absolutely no complaints with their
accommodations ... although the Byfrexians did
request the atmosphere in their cabin be somewhat
chilled. I've attended to that."
"How amazingly minor," said Picard, looking
pleasantly surprised. "No problems at
all?"
"Well ... one small embarrassing moment,
I suppose," admitted Riker. "One of the
younger children stopped the Cordian ambassador in the
hallway and said ..."
Picard raised an eyebrow. "Said what?"
"He, um ... well, the child seemed to be under
the confused impression that the Cordian was, in
fact, an accordion. He asked the
ambassador to play "Twinkle Twinkle,
Little Star"' on himself."
Picard moaned softly. "How did the
ambassador react?"
"He took it in stride, actually. He said
it's happened to him on several occasions in the past
and suggested that it might be time, and I quote,
"fflearn how to play the smegging thing."'"
"Good." Picard sat back in his chair in
relief. "These sorts of missions are always
delicate, Number One. Considering that
ambassadors and delegates are supposed
to promote interstellar harmony, it's amazing how
often these things can degenerate into acrimony and
emotional free-for-alls."
"True enough, but I don't think that's going
to happen in this instance, sir. Everyone is just so
relieved that the Sindareen are willing to put an
end to decades of warfare."
"I'm not surprised. I was just updating myself
on the conflict, Number One." Picard tapped
the computer screen. "Truly amazing. The
warlike attitude of the Sindareen is certainly
on par with anything the Klingons or the Kreel ever
had to offer. What is amazing is not only the
aggressiveness with which they fought, and the zealousness with which
they pursued every dispute, no matter how
trivial ... all of that, Number One, is
secondary to the fact that they were able to keep it going
for so long."
"From everything I read of them," said Riker,
"they paid no attention to the fact that their economy
was falling apart around their ears."
"Quite right. They kept telling themselves that whatever
difficulties they had would disappear once they had
conquered their enemies. Except even when they did
achieve victories, the results were so
devastating that there was nothing left to gain from the
conquest--not riches, not any useful goods ...
nothing."
"A series of Pyrrhic victories."
"Precisely. Until the Sindareen reached a
point in their war efforts at which they--ffuse the
old-style vernacular--ran out of gas."
"Suing for peace was the first smart thing that the
Sindareen have done in close to a century," said
Riker. "They're just damned lucky that their
closest enemies--the Cordians, the
Byfrexians, and the Luss--were willing
to listen. They could have put the screws to them."
"Yes. They could. Hopefully it's a
lesson in tolerance and acceptance from which the
Sindareen will learn. Nothing would better suit
interstellar harmony than to have the Sindareen act in
a civilized manner. At the same time, W"--
Picard leaned forward, steepling his fingers--?we have
to make sure that whatever resentment the Sindareen
might feel with the situation doesn't feed whatever
fires of self-satisfaction the ambassadors
might have burning in them. They are accomplished,
intelligent individuals--but at the same time,
in a situation like this, there can be a tendency towards
smugness. We'll have to watch that.
"By the same token," Picard continued,
"we'll have to keep a wary eye on the Sindareen.
Yes, they've sued for peace. But we'll have
to make sure they're sincere."
"That certainly sounds like it's right up the
counselor's alley."
"I've already spoken with Counselor Troi,"
said Picard. "She had said that the Sindareen were not
always easy to read; that their natural aggression could
screen her empathic abilities to some
degree."
"I know. But on the other hand, if she's with
specific members of the Sindareen long enough, she
can "punch through"' that resistance and get a
very clear feeling for them."
Picard did not attempt to hide his
surprise. "That's right. That's exactly what
she said."
His captain's expression informed Riker that an
explanation was anticipated. Riker simply
shrugged. "Deanna had some experience with the
Sindareen some time ago."
"And she told you about it?"
"Something like that."
"Is there something that's preventing you from
volunteering more information about the counselor's
Sindareen experience than you are currently
doing?"
"Yes, sir."
"And that would be ...?"
Riker smiled. "My innate modesty,
sir."
"I see," said Picard, and he harrumphed
slightly. "Very well, Commander. Far be it from me
to compromise your sense of modesty."
"Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else?"
Picard hesitated a moment and then said,
"Let's watch ourselves on this one, w. I
agree that everything would appear to be going
smoothly. On the other hand, we haven't reached
Sindar yet. Once they get here, things could
change very drastically. And we have to keep alert for
anything vaguely out of the ordinary."
"If there's one thing I've learned,
Captain, it's always to watch out for anything out of the
ordinary."
"So have we both, Number One. And we've
learned it through trial and error ... sometimes
costly error. And whenever possible--I'd like
to avoid more costliness."
"Sometimes, sir, no matter how cautious we
are ... things happen."
Slowly Picard nodded. "That, Number One,
is also something that we must both, reluctantly,
agree upon."
CHAPTER 8
After touching base with Worf to make sure that
all security requirements were met, Riker
headed down to Deanna Troi's quarters. It
was, he felt, a reasonable thing to do--he had
already spoken to her about her feelings vis-@a-vis
the state of mind of the various
ambassadors, and because of her report, he had
told the captain all was well. Still, it couldn't
hurt to confer with her once more and see whether she had
picked up on any second thoughts, hidden
hostilities--anything that could conceivably
interfere with the successful completion of the mission.
He walked up to the door of her quarters and
rang the chime. "Deanna?"
At first there was no sound from within and Riker thought
that he might have missed her. He tapped his
communicator and said, "Computer, locate
Counselor Troi."
"Counselor Troi is in her quarters," the
computer calmly informed him.
This confused the hell out of Riker, and small
alarms began to sound in his head. Was there a
problem? Was she in danger? Why wasn't she
answering?
More insistently now, he rang the door chime
and said, "Deanna? Are you all right? It's
W."
The door slid open and Deanna was standing there,
wrapped in a gold dressing gown that hung half
off her bare shoulder. A naked leg was also
visible through the folds, which she pulled shut as an
