Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

by Peter David

  I've tripped over."

  She giggled slightly at that. "Well, if you

  are drunk, at least you're funny about it.

  Daddy sticks mostly to Synthehol when he

  drinks."

  "Synthehol!" sniffed Riker. "That stuff's

  for infants! You'll never catch me drinking that

  Ferengii garbage."

  He circled his room, taking slow and steady

  steps that were a bit exaggerated. Without any

  preamble, he turned to Wendy and said, "She

  wasn't even that good-looking!"

  "Who?"

  "Her! Her ... her nose was too long. And

  her mouth was too wide. And ... and her

  cheekbones were too high. Frankly ... she was

  ugly."

  "Her who?"

  "Someone I knew. Or thought I knew."

  He dropped down onto the edge of the bed and stared

  off into space for a moment. Wendy sat next

  to him, waiting for him to say something else.

  "You know," he said after a time, "you get in your

  head this ... this picture of the way you think things

  are going to go. And they never match up. Nothing ever

  turns out the way you think it's going to."

  "I know how that is."

  He looked at her. "You do?"

  "Of course I do. Fate's always kicking you

  in the teeth."

  "But why me?"

  "Not just you." She almost laughed at the

  persecuted look on his face. "Everyone.

  I've had my share of busted romances. And my

  dad--well, how do you think he took it when my

  mom died?"

  "Not well?"

  "Not well at all. He was wrecked up about

  it. But just because fate kicks you in the teeth

  doesn't mean you have to grin and give him more

  targets. You fight back, that's all. You just

  let him know that you're not going to take it. You're

  just not."

  "She didn't understand," said Riker bleakly.

  "I thought she did, but she didn't. She can't

  see anything beyond this ... this lousy little planet.

  A whole galaxy of opportunity, and she's

  got her head buried in the sands of

  Betazed. ..."

  "Not me," said Wendy firmly. "I'm not

  living out my life here, you can bet on that. Not on

  this overphilosophized ball of rock.

  Uh-uh."

  "No?"

  "No. No attachments for me. No strings.

  I want my freedom," Wendy said with fire in

  her voice. "Another year or two here, tops.

  Then I'm gone. Diplomatic corps,

  maybe. An attach@e or something. Or who

  knows? Maybe I'll just hitch. See the

  galaxy. Grab rides on star freighters,

  doing odd jobs for passage."

  "No attachments."

  "No strings."

  He stared at her. "Has anyone told you,"

  he said, feeling an extremely pleasant buzz

  in his head, "how terrific you look?"

  She grinned. "Not for a long time."

  "And"--he paused--?has anyone done

  anything about how terrific you look?"

  "Not for an even longer time."

  He kissed her, feeling giddy. She was warm

  and supple against him. Undemanding. Yielding.

  Wanting nothing more from him than he was capable of

  giving.

  He broke from her for a moment. "What do you

  think of art?"

  "Boring."

  "Thank God," he said, and they sank down

  onto the bed.

  Lwaxana sat in her favorite chair in the

  study, reading and feeling totally relaxed.

  Deanna sat at a desk nearby, surrounded

  by texts for various psychology courses.

  "What are you studying, Little One?" Lwaxana

  called to her.

  Deanna did not respond.

  Lwaxana turned to look at her and saw that

  Deanna was staring off into space. Deanna, she

  tossed into her daughter's head. Deanna looked

  up, and Lwaxana continued, What are you

  studying?

  "Oh." Deanna looked blankly at the

  texts in front of her. She held one up.

  "Human dysfunctions."

  "Well," Lwaxana said with a faint smile,

  "we've certainly had our

  up-close-and-personal study of that for today,

  haven't we."

  "Mother, that's not nice," said Deanna

  tightly.

  "You know," Lwaxana said with a thought, "you might

  be able to get some genuine use out of your extended

  contact with him--purely on a clinical basis.

  He's a fascinating study in obsessive

  behavior, don't you th--"

  Deanna rose from her chair and started across the

  study. "I'm going out."

  Immediately Lwaxana frowned, getting up from her

  chair. She didn't precisely block

  Deanna's way, but Deanna was definitely

  going to have to go around her. "It's late,"

  Lwaxana said.

  "I think I'm a little old for a curfew,

  Mother."

  "Maybe. But not too old to exercise common

  sense. You're going to see him, and don't bother

  trying to lie to me."

  "It was too abrupt, Mother. X--"

  Lwaxana raised a stern finger. "It was

  exactly as abrupt as it needed to be. It's

  what you both needed. Simply dragging things out would

  have done neither of you any good. It's over. It's

  finished. That's it. Now go back and study."

  "Mother, I don't want to. I can't.

  I--"

  I don't care what you want,

  Lwaxana's voice echoed sharply in

  Deanna's head for emphasis. Do as I

  tell you!

  Deanna took a step back, a physical

  reaction to the mental rebuff+. Then her eyes

  narrowed, her fingers rolled up into tightly clenched

  fists.

  "You don't, do you," said Deanna carefully.

  "You don't care what I want."

  "I care about what's best for you--"

  Andwith such force that it seemed as if the air

  molecules crackled, Deanna hurtled a

  blistering, NO YOU DON'T, MOTHER! right

  at Lwaxana.

  Lwaxana staggered, paling under her makeup.

  "How dare you think at me that way! To imply that

  I--"

  "I'm not implying it, Mother! I'm saying it

  outright!" For a moment Deanna felt as if her

  courage were going to falter, and then she

  realized that if she'd been able to face up to the

  fear that had pervaded her in the jungle, then this should

  be easy in comparison.

  It all burst from her at once. "For years,

  Mother--.for years--while you've done whatever you

  wanted, wherever and whenever you wanted, you've told

  me what I'm supposed to do, what I have to do.

  And you keep telling me it's for me, all me.

  But it's not for me, Mother! It's for you! It's

  to satisfy your needs and your desires and your

  decisions. You've never asked me whether I care

  about any of these s-called responsibilities!

  You've never cared! You just ... just assumed that I

  would embrace them because they were important to you.

  Well, they're not important to me, Mother!

  I'm sorry!
I don't want to hold the

  sacred chalice! It's all yours! Make wind

  chimes of the Holy Rings for all I care!"

  "Deanna--!" ^ws could not begin to express

  the shock flooding through Lwaxana. "I'd have

  sooner died than talk to my mother this way!"

  Deanna didn't stop. She was afraid that

  if she did stop, she'd never have the nerve to start

  again. "I want my own priorities, Motherffwas

  She thudded her fists against her own bosom for

  emphasis. "I want to make my decisions!

  My choices! Not yours. Not hundreds of years

  worth of tradition. Mine! I'm entitled to that!

  Every single thing I've done, I've done because

  you've made that decision for me! So when do I

  get a chance, Mother? When do I get to make

  decisions about careers and opportunities and

  marriages? When?"

  "When you have a daughter! Just the same way that

  I did!"

  Deanna gaped at her mother, appalled. "I

  can't believe you said that."

  Lwaxana was silent.

  "I cannot believe that you said that," repeated

  Deanna. "Generation after generation, women not being

  allowed to think for themselves ... perpetuating that

  pattern, child after child ..." Deanna drew herself

  up. "It stops here, Mother."

  "It's that Riker," Lwaxana said angrily.

  "He put these thoughts in your mind."

  "No, Mother. The thoughts were always there. I just

  never had the nerve to say them. And what's worst of

  all is, you knew they were there. You must have known.

  You knew that I was unhappy, and that didn't stop

  you from doing whatever you pleased with my

  life, counting on my obedience and "dutiful

  daughter"' mind-set."

  "I knew that when you were older, you'd understand--"

  "Well, you were wrong, Mother."

  Deanna walked around Lwaxana and headed for the

  door. Her mother turned and called out, "You'd

  take him over me!"

  Deanna spun and shouted back defiantly,

  "allyes!"

  "You can't do this! You have studies ... duties

  ... a destiny!"

  "I want to be with him, Mother! I was wrong

  to let you intimidate me into submission again. I

  was wrong to let him just walk away. We can't go

  back to the way it used to be, Mother. It's not going

  to happen. It would be a lie, and I won't live

  a lie!"

  Lwaxana placed her hands on her hips and

  said sarcastically, "And what are you going to do?

  Quit your studies?"

  "Probably."

  "Marry him?"

  "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I'll just go

  with him, be happy to be near him. When he ships

  out for his next assignment, I'll try to sign

  on. Some sort of job, I don't care what.

  Chief cook and bottle washer--it doesn't

  matter as long as we're together."

  "You on a starship?" Lwaxana said,

  appalled. "A beautiful, free creature like

  you, cooped up in a ship for years? Millions

  of light-years away from home? It's insanity!"

  "I've thought about Starfleet for years. A

  life of adventure, of experiencing minds and

  philosophies beyond what I have here. But I never

  really considered it as an option. Now, though, I

  understand. There's a galaxy of possibilities out

  there--even for a daughter of the Fifth House, if

  she simply has the nerve to take them. And who

  knows? Maybe I won't join Starfleet.

  Maybe I'll go back to geology. Maybe

  I'll paint myself blue and become a naked

  dancing girl in the Zetli system. But whatever

  I do, it will be my choice, not yours."

  Deanna headed for the door, and in her head she

  heard, If you go out that door, don't come

  back.

  Deanna went out the door.

  CHAPTER 30

  Deanna entered the embassy, which was quiet

  since it was after hours. But she stumbled upon several

  security men, whom she remembered from having met

  them in the jungle at the rendezvous point.

  "Evening, miss," said Sommers, no.ing

  slightly.

  "Hello. I'm ... I'm here to see

  Lieutenant Riker."

  "Yes, miss. I'm sure you are,"

  Sommers said. "You know the way?"

  "Oh, yes."

  He waved her past and Deanna disappeared

  down the hall. Sommers whistled softly to himself.

  "The officers get all the women."

  Deanna went straight to Riker's quarters,

  her heart pounding. She had envisioned what he would

  say, what he would do. He was going to be so proud

  of her. The way that she had stood up to her mother, the

  way that she had taken control of her life. He

  would congratulate her, he would be thrilled at her

  love for him, he would take her in his arms ...

  She walked into his quarters and stopped dead in

  her tracks.

  The room was only partly lit, but she could see

  Riker was lying in bed, naked. His uniform was

  tossed in several places around the room. He was

  asleep ... and curled around the naked form of a

  woman whom Deanna immediately recognized as

  Wendy Roper.

  Deanna made no sound, but her mind screamed

  in embarrassment and mortification.

  It was more than enough to awaken Riker.

  He sat up, confused and disoriented. He also

  sat up much too quickly because he was solidly

  hung over, andfora moment he thought his head was going

  to ricochet across the room. He sputtered

  uncomprehendingly ... and then he saw

  Deanna, standing in the doorway, backlit by the

  hall light.

  It took him a moment to reach the full

  realization that this wasn't a dream, or for that

  matter, a nightmare. "Deanna?" he said in a

  voice that sounded distant and ill.

  She wanted to run shrieking down the hallway,

  but there was no way that she was going to retreat in that

  manner. "My apologies, Lieutenant. I

  seem to have come at a bad time. Perhaps if I'd

  called ahead, you might have been able

  to fit me into your schedule."

  Her tone made Riker's hair hurt.

  "Deanna," he said again, and started forward. But his

  coordination was way off and instead he crashed to the

  floor.

  The noise awakened the stone-cold-sober

  Wendy, who sat up in confusion and looked around.

  She saw Deanna, blinked in mild chagrin, and

  pulled the blanket around herself.

  "Deanna," Riker began again. He grabbed

  at his uniform and started to pull it on.

  "How nice. You have a thorough command of my

  name," she said, her arms folded.

  "This isn't what it seems." Then Riker

  looked at Wendy, and the rumpled bed, and back

  to Deanna. "All right, it is what it seems.

  But I ... you said you didn't want to see me

  anymore. You said we were finished and--"

  "And it had been less than twenty-four hours

  since you'd had female companionship, so
r />   naturally you got over me. In fact, not only

  did you get over me, you practically vaulted

  over me," Deanna said, her voice getting

  louder.

  Riker made shushing noises, which only

  prompted her to raise her voice more. "Are you

  afraid someone will hear?" she demanded.

  "No," he whispered. "It's just ... my head

  hurts."

  "I'm sorry about your head," she said, not

  sounding remotely sorry. "I won't burden it

  further."

  She spun on her heel and walked away.

  Riker, his uniform disheveled, nevertheless ran after

  her. He caught up with her halfway down the

  hallway and spun her around.

  "You said--" he began.

  "I know what I said. And would you like to know what

  I said to my mother? I told her I'd been wrong

  to toss you away. That it was time for me to find my

  own path. And that I wanted that path to be with you."

  Hot tears welled in her eyes and she fought them

  down. "But I foolishly assumed that you wanted

  that as well."

  "I do--"

  "No, you don't. I crawled out on a limb

  for you, and you chopped it off behind me."

  "It wasn't like that. I wasn't thinking

  straight, and Wendy showed up, and--"

  "And it was an opportunity."

  "Yes."

  "And it didn't really mean anything."

  "That's right."

  "And how do I know," she said icily, "that our

  time together didn't fall into the same

  categories?"

  He took her by the shoulders. "You know that it

  didn't."

  "I thought I knew that. But now I'm not

  sure. And what's worse, you're not sure either.

  Will ... I thought we had something special. The

  physical and the spiritual. But for me, one hinges on

  the other. For you, it doesn't. And I don't

  think that's ever going to change for you."

  Riker felt something slipping away from him,

  something very important--m important than he

  could have guessed--and suddenly, desperately, he

  wanted to save it. "I can change," he said.

  "I can--"

  "Not overnight. Maybe someday, but maybe not

  ever. It may be, for you, something that can only come with

  maturity. I can't hinge my life on maybes.

  Because you're going to go away and I have to make

  decisions, and I can't base those decisions on

  uncertainties."

  For a moment he bristled. "You sound so damned

  holier-than-thou. How do you know how it's going

  to be for you? Maybe as you mature, you'll

  change. Maybe you'll decide that you don't have