Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

by Peter David [lit]

  Lieutenant. Not even so much as a mild

  guffaw. It may have been a while since I

  laughed, Mr. Dexter, but I do distinctly

  recall what it sounded like."

  "You weren't laughing per se, sir, but you most

  definitely were making light of the situation."

  Riker leaned forward, his fingers interlaced.

  "If I don't speed up the processing,

  Dexter ... what are they going to do to me?

  Transfer me? To someplace worse than this?

  We both know there is no place worse than

  this."

  Dexter shuddered slightly.

  "You know I'm right," Riker said mirthlessly.

  "And you know what else?" He leaned back in the

  chair, putting his hands behind his head. "I wouldn't

  have it any other way. I'm right where I want

  to be, Dexter. Right where I want to be."

  They stared at each other for a few moments.

  "Anything else?" Riker said.

  Dexter cleared his throat again and then said,

  "There was a communiqu@e for you of a somewhat

  personal nature."

  At that, Riker frowned. "What was it?"

  "Well, sir, I never go prying--"

  "Of course you do," said Riker, his voice

  cracking with impatience. "Don't shadow-dance with

  me, Dexter. I know damned well you have your

  finger in every pie that comes through this armpit of the

  galaxy. Now what's happening?"

  "Well, sir ... the communiqu@e was from

  Betazed."

  Riker was silent for a long moment. "Betazed?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Riker drummed for a few seconds on the

  armrest of his chair. When he spoke, he was

  looking away from Dexter. "It's from her, isn't

  it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Is she all right?"

  Dexter's lips thinned even more, which one would have

  thought was impossible. He took a breath and said,

  "No, sir. She's dying, sir."

  Riker said nothing at first. Then, finally:

  "And?"

  "She's calling for you."

  "Is she? Yes ... she would, wouldn't she."

  He considered it a moment. "There's no way I

  can get there in time."

  "Betazed officials have already spoken with

  Starfleet command. She is quite influential, you

  know."

  "Yes, I know. Believe me, I know. And

  what did Starfleet say?"

  "The starship Hood is in this sector. They

  had not originally planned to put in here, but we are

  not significantly out of their way. And Betazed

  is situated only a few parsecs from

  Hood's destination."

  "How very convenient." Riker frowned for a moment.

  "Hood is Crusher's ship, isn't it?"

  "Captain Crusher, yes, sir."

  "Um-hmm. Old ghosts, Dexter."

  "Pardon?"

  "Old ghosts. They're coming back to haunt

  me." Now Riker shifted his drumming to the

  desktop. "Old ghosts want to see me. Old

  ghosts are going to transport me." He paused.

  "I don't suppose I have the option of not seeing

  her."

  "Of course you have that option, sir," replied

  Dexter stiffly. "This is merely a request, not

  an order."

  "A request." Once more Riker ran his

  fingers through his gray hair. "How much time until

  Hood gets here?"

  "ETA is fourteen thirty hours, sir."

  "All right. Radio Betazed that I'll be there

  as fast as I can. Tell Hood that

  I'll be ready for them when they get here." Riker

  rose to his feet and fixed Dexter with a stare.

  "Anything else?"

  "No, sir. It's just that ..."

  Riker could barely contain his impatience.

  "What? ... What?"

  "I just want to say that I think it's good of you

  that you're going, sir. You've, um ..." He

  harrumphed and continued, "You've spoken of her in

  the past. It's clear that this will be very difficult for

  you."

  "I've done more difficult things than this,

  Lieutenant," said Riker stiffly. Then he

  hesitated and added softly, "But not much more."

  He came around his desk and headed for the door.

  And then Dexter said, "Why do you think she wants

  to see you, sir?"

  Riker paused in the doorway. The door had

  already slid open, waiting for him. But when he

  didn't pass through, it slid softly shut again.

  "Why do you think?"

  Dexter, after brief consideration, said, "Perhaps,

  sir, she wants to make amends with you."

  "Amends?" Riker said the ^w with amazement, as

  if it were the first time he'd ever heard it.

  "Amends? Lieutenant ... you don't know her

  very well."

  "It's possible, sir," Dexter persisted.

  "When people are dying, they tend to see things in a

  different light."

  "You have a lot of personal experience with death,

  Lieutenant?"

  Dexter ignored the verbal jab. "It's

  possible that she wants to settle loose ends, as

  it were. Close accounts. It's possible, sir

  ... that she wants to forgive you."

  Slowly Riker shook his head. "Why should she,

  Lieutenant ... when I haven't forgiven

  myself?"

  And Riker walked out of his office, leaving

  Dexter alone with the steady heartbeat ticking of the

  grandfather clock.

  CHAPTER 3

  The structures in which the scientists of the Forever

  World lived were, at best, functional. But then,

  these people did not seem to Data the type to care

  overmch about physical needs. If what they had

  served their basic requirements, then they

  seemed content.

  Data looked around the table that served as the

  communal eating place for the scientists. In every

  locale on the Enterprise that was designed for

  group consumption of food, Data had always been

  struck by the steady stream of chatter that had

  accompanied the act. Indeed, eating a meal

  seemed as much a social occasion as anything

  else. Such socializing did not appear to augment

  the replenishing of the body's stores of nutrition.

  It was, however, customary. Or so Data had

  been led to believe.

  It was not the case here however. The six

  scientists who were grouped around the table ate

  quietly. Talk was at a minimum, and anything

  said was merely along the lines of some functional

  request such as "Pass the salt."

  Seated next to Data was science officer

  Blair. Blair was tough to miss in any

  situation--a head taller than Data, and covered

  from head to toe with thick, brown fur. His jaw

  jutted out and his eyes were so small that they were almost

  impossible to spot. His Starfleet uniform was

  specially tailored to accommodate his height and

  bulk. The others at the table had to crowd a bit

  closer to each other in order to provide room for

  Blair.

  Thus far there had only been one entr@ee

  into conversation. Data had glanced around and said,

 
"My records indicated there were seven of you."

  Mary Mac pursed her lips and then sighed.

  "There were. Recent defection--Mar Loc.

  He took off the other day--haven't seen him

  since. You'll have to update your records. To be

  honest ... we lose people all the time."

  "Why?"

  "It's not easy to take this place,

  Commodore," said Harry as he put food out on

  the table. Around the table, heads bobbed up and down

  in agreement. "You have the constant wind. You have the

  solitude. Andwiththe Guardian out there ..." He

  paused, trying to find the ^ws. "You feel ... you

  feel like you're staring into a mirror from hell. And

  it's only so long before you see something staring back

  out at you. Some reflection that you don't

  necessarily like. At which point ... it's time

  to get out. Or you can lose your mind."

  "We've had that happen from time to time as well,"

  said Mary Mac darkly. Again there were nods.

  The scientists volunteered no further

  conversation, and once the food was put out, from then on

  the only sounds that could be heard were the clinking of

  eating utensils on plates, soft noises of

  mastication, andof course, the wind ... the

  ever-present, ever-haunting wind.

  "Is it always this quiet?" Blair finally

  asked.

  The sound of his hushed question was almost deafening in the

  relative stillness. The scientists stopped and

  looked at each other with an air of polite

  puzzlement.

  Mary Mac, who was seated next to Blair,

  leaned forward on one arm. "It's not just quiet.

  We're working."

  Blair looked at Data. "Working on

  what?" asked the commodore.

  "Our thoughts," said Harry. "Our observations.

  Every night we record our conclusions in our

  logs, and every morning we group together and discuss

  them."

  "As part of the Federation's annual evaluation of

  your work," said Data politely, "I'd be very

  interested in reading them. If, that is, you wouldn't

  consider that an intrusion."

  The scientists looked at each other and there

  seemed to be an unspoken, uniform shrug. "No

  problem with that, Commodore," said Mary Mac.

  "What sort of observations do you make?"

  Blair asked.

  Mary Mac glanced around the table. Clearly,

  both through Federation designation and natural

  ability, she was the spokesperson for the group.

  "We make observations on society. On

  history. Most of us here are social

  scientists, Commodore ... Lieutenant," she

  added, with a polite nod to Blair. "We make

  studies of the histories of different societies

  and from that draw conclusions about not only that

  society's past, but the circumstances that brought

  them to their present and, most likely, are aiming

  them toward their future."

  Harry now spoke up. "Just an example.

  Two planets, Gamma Delta and Gamma

  Origii, had been at war off and on for

  hundreds of years. Even though they, as a

  society, had evolved in their perceptions and

  attitudes, there was still a centuries-old

  tradition of hatred between the two. Our studies

  here at the Forever World uncovered the real origins,

  long forgotten, of the anger between the two

  worlds."

  "That being?" prompted Blair.

  Harry endeavored to keep a straight face as

  he said, "A do'clat belonging to the emperor of

  Gamma Delta consumed a markill that was much

  beloved by the empress of Gamma Origii."

  Blair looked in confusion from Harry to Data.

  Data, with just the faintest hint of a smile, said,

  "A do'clat is a large, caninelike

  animal, known to be quite fierce and to reach lengths of

  three meters. A markill is small, somewhat

  feline, and usually very docile."

  Understanding spread across Blair's face. "You

  mean the guy's dog ate her pet cat?"

  "That is essentially correct."

  "And that led to centuries of hostilities?"

  "The incident led to bad feelings," corrected

  Mary Mac, sounding a bit pedantic. "The bad

  feelings led to the hostilities. By the time the

  modern era was reached, the reasons for the

  hostilities had long been forgotten; only the

  anger remained."

  "How did the two planets react when they

  learned of the root cause for their antagonism?"

  asked Data.

  Mary Mac could not hide her amusement. "The

  heads of the two worlds met andwith great pomp and

  circumstance signed into law new, strict

  regulations about leashing do'clats. A newborn

  markill was then presented to the present leader of

  Gamma Origii. Frankly, they were all a

  bit embarrassed about it and were happy for the

  opportunity to put it all behind them."

  "Well, that's excellent," said Blair.

  "That's just excellent."

  Then he paused, and Mary Mac picked up

  on the fact that something else was on his mind.

  "Yes, Lieutenant?" she asked.

  "I was just wondering ... are you ever tempted?

  To go back, I mean?"

  "No," said Mary Mac with such speed and

  firmness that it was a bit startling.

  "What, never?"

  "No. Nor are any of us." She looked at

  her companions for confirmation, and almost as one, they

  nodded.

  "Why wouldn't you want to?"

  "Because that is not a responsibility that we would

  want. It's ... it's too much. You'd have to be

  ... I don't know ... bigger than

  life to take on that challenge. I'll pass,

  thanks."

  "If you shun the responsibility, why does

  anyone have access to the Guardian at all?"

  asked Data.

  "We need access when we want to talk to it,"

  said Mary Mac. "For some reason it won't

  address us if we speak from outside the force

  field. The Guardian doesn't acknowledge us

  unless there're no barriers between us. When we do

  converse with it directly, we do so with the utmost

  caution." She put down her eating utensil.

  "Your conversation was fairly interesting, Commodore.

  What did you make of it?"

  "It would seem to confirm, on the face of it, that

  which we had always known. That time is fluid. Alth"

  --he paused only a moment, considering the

  possibilities--?there is another interpretation.

  And that is that all times coexist."

  "You mean parallel universes," said Mary

  Mac. It was clear from the speed with which she picked

  up on what he was saying that it was something she'd

  already given thought.

  "It's something that has been considered," said

  Data. "That parallel universes are, in

  fact, alternative time tracks. There was a

  fascinating paper done recently, expanding upon a

  notion expressed in, of all things, a newly

  recovered twentieth-century piece of ficti
on."

  "The Niven Doctrine," Blair said. "I

  was in the audience when it was presented. Shook up

  quite a few people."

  "Alternative time lines," said Mary Mac,

  no.ing. "The scene you were watching, Commodore--the

  experiences of Captain Kirk--certainly is

  one of the better-known instances."

  "There have been others documented," said Data.

  "There was Captain Kirk's experience with an

  alternative time line that resulted in a

  parallel universe with an aggressive, warlike

  Federation. There was another situation that I myself was

  involved with, the full details of which I didn't

  learn until some years after the fact."

  "You, Commodore?" asked Mary Mac.

  "What was it?"

  "It involved a ... memorable young woman.

  Her name was Natasha Yar, although she was more

  popularly known as Tasha." Data's face, as

  always, was the picture of composure. But Blair,

  from his long experience with his commanding officer,

  could tell that the memory being pulled up was something

  of great meaning to the android. "It was a ...

  unique situation. One of the few instances where an

  individual or individuals actually crossed

  over from one parallel universe to another--one being

  where Captain Kirk and several crewmen, as

  mentioned earlier, crossed into a parallel

  universesttime-line with a militaristic Federation.

  Tasha's experience was another. Unfortunately

  it ... did not work out quite as positively as

  Captain Kirk's did."

  Data lapsed into silence and Mary Mac

  understood immediately that he had said everything he felt

  needed to be said on the subject. But Data

  picked up on her expression.

  "If you wish to question me further on the

  incident," Data said quietly, "you may feel

  free to do so. I won't feel imposed upon."

  "Maybe not, but I'll feel like I'm

  imposing anyway. So I guess I won't."

  Then Mary Mac paused. "Actually,

  Commodore ... I have something of interest to show you.

  Something along the lines of our discussion. A very

  intriguing turn of events that our monitoring of the

  Guardian's playbacks has revealed. And I

  think"--her green lips drew back into a broad

  smile--?I think you will find it very interesting."

  CHAPTER 4

  Riker sat in his guest quarters on the starship

  Hood, watching the stars hurtling by. It had

  been so long since he was in any sort of real

  motion that the view outside the port looked ...

  wrong somehow. As insane as it sounded, he