by Peter David
over her breasts, holding the padd over them as if
it were a shield. She was dressed in flowing blue,
a loose-sleeved tunic and a long blue skirt
that the wind was swishing about her legs. "So you're
going around and introducing yourself, one person at a
time. That could take quite a while."
"It'll take even longer when the people I'm
introducing myself to don't even tell me their
names."
She angled her head slightly, regarding him
with that outthrust jaw of hers. "Why should I bother?
You know my name."
Now he folded his arms. "You know ... it's
going to be very difficult being at ease with a
population that considers my mind an open book."
"I didn't read your mind. I hazarded a
guess. All you did was confirm it."
"Oh. I ... just assumed ..."
"Assumptions can lead to great embarrassments,
Lieutenant. As I'm sure you can attest."
She turned and walked away from him.
He stood there for a moment and watched her go.
Don't give up.
The thought entered his head, and he wasn't
entirely sure where it came from. Was it his own
mind ... or was the source elsewhere? Was there a
remote chance that the encouragement had come from her
... either consciously or unconsciously?
A remote chance, yes. Remote. Very, very
slim. Pathetically thin, as a matter of
fact. So thin as to be virtually nonexistent.
But still worth a shot.
He kicked into high gear and trotted after her.
It was surprising how quickly she moved, with
brisk, rapid steps. His quick pace brought him
alongside her and he said, "You used to do some
geology, didn't you."
That brought her up short and she stared at him.
"A lot of fieldwork," he continued.
"When I was a teenager, yes."
"Why did you give it up?"
"My true talents lay elsewhere. How in the
world did you know?"
"The way you walk. I had a friend, she was also
a geologist, except she made her life's
work out of it. She walked the same way ... a very
precise, measured stride. And she knew
exactly how much space each of her strides
covered. That way she could always measure off
distances even if she didn't have an instrument handy
to measure them."
Slowly she nodded her head. "Very good,
Lieutenant. I'm impressed."
"And I'm impressed that I impressed you."
Once more he stuck out a hand. "I'm Lt.
William t. Riker. And you are ...?"
She sighed. "We've been through this, haven't
we?"
"I have. You haven't."
This time she took his hand and shook it firmly.
"Deanna Troi. The answer is no."
He wished he could get more than a handful of
sentences out of her at a time. He loved listening
to her voice. "The answer to what?"
"The answer, I would presume, to just about any
question you'd care to pose." She folded her arms
once more. "Look, Lieutenant ... I really
don't mean to be rude here ... but I don't have
the slightest intention of leading you on. I know you
saw me at the wedding last night. In fact, we
both know you saw me, and we both know what was going
through your mind."
He took a step closer to her, sounding as
suave as he possibly could. "Then we're not
exactly on even footing. I don't know what
was going through your mind."
"Then I'll tell you now. I'm very flattered
by your intentions, Lieutenant. I'm vain enough to be
pleased that I could provoke such ... strong
feelings from you ... merely by the display of
my body. Your reaction, however, would indicate
an obsession for surface attributes only."
"That's hardly my sole interest," he said
defensively.
"No, but it's a driving one."
He drew yet another step closer, trying
to discern whether his growing nearer was having any sort
of effect on her. She wasn't stepping back,
which either meant that she wanted him near her, or
else she just figured it wasn't worth the trouble
to back away from him. "Even if it is ... it
doesn't mean that I wouldn't want to get to know you
better on a variety of levels."
"That might be. But it's the order of the levels
that I have difficulty with. I also have difficulty
with the transient nature of your personality."
That stopped him. "Transient?"
She looked down and seemed almost reluctant
to speak. "I don't wish to say things that will
upset you."
His voice took on a deeper, somewhat
annoyed air. "You won't upset me, I
assure you."
"Very well." She looked him in the eyes.
Other students passing by afforded them quick glances
before going on about their business. Her voice took
on a clinical air as she said, "I sense that
you're someone who thrives on quick encounters. Who
enjoys the physicality of relationships without the
deeper emotional attachments those relationships can
and should bring with them. And that natural tendency of
yours is heightened by the fact that you're only going
to be on Betazed a few months. That's much more
incentive, then, to engage in passing romantic
assignations without any concern of long-term
relations since, by definition, you won't be here
long enough. Well? Am I close?"
His lips thinned almost to nonexistence. "I
suppose you feel you have me pegged pretty
well."
"Well enough for my purposes. Good day,
Lieutenant."
She turned and walked away, and this time there was
no additional beckoning in Riker's mind, leaving
him totally in the dark about where his mind was at, where
her mind was at, and what precisely he should do
next ...
... if anything.
I'm home.
Deanna nodded to Mr. Homn, who stepped
back away from the front door of the mansion as she
entered.
In her head, her mother's voice replied,
I'm up here, Little One.
Deanna looked in the direction of the upstairs
bedroom. What's wrong, Mother? It was very
unusual for Lwaxana Troi to be upstairs
at this time of day ... usually she was bustling around,
tending to this, that, and the other, or perhaps entertaining some
head of state. Her absence was reason for
curiosity.
Deanna trotted upstairs and into her mother's
bedroom. Lwaxana lay in her bed, looking
utterly spent. She blew her nose loudly
into a cloth.
"Oh, Mother, what happened?"
It snuck up on me, replied her mother,
responding to Deanna's verbal expression of
concern. One minute I was fine, and the next
minute my head felt ready to explode.
Treasure your health, Little One. You never
<
br /> appreciate it until it's gone.
Is there anything I can do, Mother?
Lwaxana sneezed loudly, then thought,
Yes, there is. Substitute for me.
Where?
The Federation embassy is hosting a
reception for the Rigelian ambassador tonight. As
a daughter of the fifth house, it's my
responsibility to be there. Obviously I can't
go when I'm in this shape.
Deanna sat on the edge of the bed and fidgeted
with her hands. Out loud she said, "I'd really rather
not, Mother. I was out late yesterday with Chandra's
wedding. I've been working late hours on my
studies. I--"
Lwaxana sat up, but her expression had
changed from self-directed misery to a puzzled
frown. "Who's Lieutenant Riker?"
With a loud sigh of annoyance, Deanna said,
"He's no one, Mother. And you know, after all this
time, I still hate it when you do that. If I wanted
to discuss him with you, I'd discuss him."
"You would have sooner or later." But then the
draining of Lwaxana's sinuses prompted her
to lie back down, and as she blew her nose again,
she thought, So who is he?
I told you, he's no one. Just
some Starfleet officer who can't keep his ... more
base thoughts ... under control. He's of no
consequence to me.
He's of enough consequence, Little One, to be the
primary factor in why you don't want to go to the
embassy tonight.
Deanna made an irritated noise.
I'll go, Mother. All right? I'll go.
I'll be charming and wonderful and I assure you
I'll have absolutely no trouble with
Lieutenant Riker. All right?
Her mother reached up and patted her
affectionately on the cheek. That's my
girl.
And deep enough down in her psyche that she hoped
even her mother wouldn't be able to discern it, Deanna
thought, Great. Just great.
CHAPTER 16
The Federation embassy was fully lit up that
evening and was alive with the boisterousness and frivolity
of the gathering.
Unlike the wedding ceremony, which was almost
entirely attended by Betazoids and hence was rather
quiet, protocol required that conversation at
embassy gatherings be primarily verbal, in
order to accommodate offworlders. So it was that
Riker found himself eminently more relaxed this time out.
He watched Mark Roper working the crowd,
overseeing the catering functions, and doing everything
he could to make the Rigelian ambassador
feel at home. Considering that up until that
point Riker's sole exposure to Roper had
been watching him fuss and bother over the details
of his job, it was somewhat comforting to observe that
Roper was indeed a perfectly talented
diplomat when in the proper circumstances.
Riker was no slouch at such activities
himself. He had his charm cranked up to all
burners and continually made all the right moves and
said all the correct things. At one point
Roper drifted over to him and said, "You ask me,
Captain, I think you've missed your calling.
You have a real flair for this line of work."
"I'm just a gifted amateur, sir."
"Oh, now don't be modest."
But Riker hadn't heard the last thing Roper
had said because his attention had been distracted when
Deanna Troi came through the door. He
watched as she looked around, trying to spot someone
she might know. She attracted the attention of one
of the older counsels and immediately went off with him.
Roper watched the entire thing and his mouth
twitched in amusement. "Your mind seems to be
elsewhere, Captain."
"Hmm? Oh." Riker looked down,
slightly abashed that he'd allowed his attention
to be so easily diverted. What the hell kind of
training was that? "Sorry, sir."
"Once again your famed noninterest in Deanna
Troi appears to rear its head."
"Frankly, Mark ... she's not a
particularly friendly person."
"Really?" Roper seemed genuinely shocked.
"She's been nothing but friendly to me, and everyone
who's gotten to know her. Are you quite
sure?"
"Well, she was extremely standoffish with me."
"When was this?"
"I ... happened to run into her. In the city."
"I see. And how do you think you behaved?"
Riker stared at him. "I was fine.
Polite." Then he paused and admitted,
"Frankly, I was damned uncomfortable."
"Why, in heaven's name?"
"Well ... I had a hard time becoming
totally at ease with a woman who can read my every
thought."
Roper looked from the young lieutenant
to Deanna, who was across the room, and back
to Riker once more. "Who? Deanna? She can't
read your every thought."
"What? B--" Now Riker was clearly
confused. "I thought that ... I mean, I just
figured ... and you said her mother was so--"
"That's her mother. But Deanna isn't anywhere
near the telepath that her mother is. To be
specific, she's half the telepath her mother
is. Deanna's father was human."
"Human?" Riker was astounded. Here he
couldn't figure out how to come to terms with even
talking to a Betazoid, and some man had actually
found a way to marry one. And a powerful one, at
that.
"That's right. Deanna's no mind reader.
She's an empath. She senses moods,
emotions, feelings. She can sense honesty,
duplicity, sexual desire ..." Roper
paused after saying that, waited for Riker's
expression of surprise, and when he got it,
continued, "She's very, very adept at that ... but
only in a general sense."
"I see." Then Riker nodded and grinned.
"Well ... perhaps I'd better try and
rectify the situation."
He took a step forward and suddenly Wendy was
in the way. She was holding a drink and looked
extremely mellow.
"Will, have you been avoiding me?" She placed a
hand on his shoulder and assumed a distinctly pouty
air. "I'd be very hurt if you were."
Riker tried to come up with a smooth response
that would ease him through the situation, but now Roper
stepped in and said, "Wendy ... there's someone
I'd like you to meet. The Rigelian
ambassador."
"Really?" she chirped. It was becoming
rapidly clear that the drink she was holding was
hardly her first of the evening.
"Yes, really. He's right over this way."
Roper took his daughter by the arm and guided her
away into the crowd, leaving Riker alone. Roper
slowed only long enough to toss a wink in Riker's
direction.
Riker immediately seized the opportunity and cut
his way through the crowd like a shark. Within moments he
had drawn up be
hind Deanna and simply stood
there, waiting for her to turn around.
He knew that she was aware of him almost immediately,
but for what seemed an eternity she only
presented her back. The diplomat she was
talking to was suddenly distracted by someone else
clamoring for his attention, and he allowed himself to be
pulled away with an apologetic nod
to Deanna. Then she sighed and her shoulders
slumped just a bit.
"Why are you just hovering, Lieutenant?"
"How did you know?"
"I could feel you breathing down my neck."
"No, not that. I mean how did you know that I was
only going to be assigned to Betazed for a few
months?"
Slowly she turned to face him, an amused
expression on her face.
"I mean," continued Riker, "I had assumed
you'd just picked it out of my thoughts. But someone
who's an empath wouldn't be able to focus that
tightly, would she?"
"No. She wouldn't."
"Well? I'm waiting." He even made a
show of tapping the toe of his boot with impatience.
She studied her fingernails as she said, "I
asked around. All right?"
"Now why did you do that?"
"I was curious. Are you satisfied,
Lieutenant?"
"Call me W."
"For the moment, I believe I prefer
"Lieutenant."'"
"For the moment?" He smiled ingratiatingly.
"Does that mean you anticipate that there will be
opportunities in the future to address me?"
"Right now, Lieutenant, I'd like to address
you to Vulcan and send you out with the next batch of
communiqu@es."
He mimed being stabbed to the heart.
"Oh! How you sting, Miss Troi! To be at the
receiveg end of your rapier wit ..."
"Lieutenant," she said with a heavy sigh,
"what do you want from me? No ..." She put
her hands palm up in a don't-move gesture.
"No, strike that. I know what you want. The question
is, what will it take to get through to you that I'm not
interested?"
He set his jaw determinedly. "Go out with
me."
"Go out with you?" She laughed. "You feel the
best way to dis-courage you is to en-courage
you? Now that is truly a unique piece of
logic."
"I didn't say it was logical."
"That's a relief."
"What I do say is that it gives you a chance
to make a decision based on something other than first
impressions. If we spend some time together and you
decide that you're not interested ... then fine.
I'll accept that. Believe me ... I don't
