didn't feel as if stars were supposed to move.
"Do you miss it, Admiral?"
He hadn't even heard the door hiss open.
He turned to face Capt. Wesley Crusher.
Crusher was standing in the doorway, his arms
folded. He was half a head taller than
Riker, which was disconcerting enough for the admiral. He
sported a Vandyke beard, and his hair--
graying ever so slightly at the temples--hung
just over his ears. He stepped fully into the
quarters upon Riker's silent gesture for him
to enter, and Riker noticed with amusement that as he
did so, he tugged slightly at the waistline of
his black and green uniform jacket. Riker had
not seen the gesture for quite a few years--the
clothes straightening that had picked up the joking
nickname of the Picard Maneuver, wryly named
after the famous battle tactic that one
Jean-Luc Picard had invented.
He saw Crusher standing and realized that it was in
deference to himself. "Please, take a seat,
Captain."
And Riker was even more amused when Crusher
crossed to a chair and, without even thinking about it,
reversed it and straddled it. "Pick up any other
of my mannerisms, Captain?"
Crusher looked at him askance. "What do you
mean, sir?" He looked down at the chair as
if seeing it for the first time. "Did you used to sit like
this?"
"Used to," said Riker. "Before some sore
back muscles decided that they would say
otherwise in the matter. In answer to your question of do
I miss it, Captain ... no."
"No?"
"You sound surprised, Captain Crusher."
Once upon a time, Wesley Crusher would have
looked down nervously or stammered slightly or
cleared his throat as he tried to compose himself. Just
yesterday, it seemed to Riker. Now, though, the
Starfleet captain merely shrugged slightly.
"A little, I admit."
"You can take the man out of space, but you can't
take the spacer out of the man, eh?" asked
Riker.
"Something like that."
Riker slowly circled the quarters, never
taking his gaze off Crusher. "You've carved quite a
career for yourself, Mr. Crusher. Your father would have
been proud."
"Thank you, sir."
"And what about you ... Wes." It sounded odd
to speak the name out loud. It was as if he were
addressing someone who wasn't in the room. "Are
you proud?"
"I've done my job. I've done it to the
best of my abilities. And"--he paused only
a moment--?I had the best teachers."
"The Academy has top people on their
faculty."
"That's very true, but I wasn't talking about the
Academy, sir ... and I think you know that."
"We don't have to stand on formality, Wes. You
can call me W."
Crusher considered it for a moment, then
said, "Actually ... no. I'm not sure I can,
sir. It would seem ... presumptuous,
somehow."
"Whatever you're comfortable with, then," said Riker
easily. He caught a glance of himself in the
mirror. Old. So damned old, and he felt
older in the presence of the robust captain who sat
before him. Robust, even in his fifties.
"What's your opinion of me, Wes?"
Crusher blinked in surprise. "Of you?" For a
moment he seemed confused. "I ... admire you
tremendously. You're one of the greatest ...
probably, with all due respect, the
second-greatest ... Starfleet officer it was ever
my honor to serve under."
Riker stared at him with a look that bordered on
incredulity. "You can't still think that, can you?"
"Of course."
With a slow shake of his head, Riker sat down
opposite Crusher. He did not, however,
straddle the chair. "Wesley ... everyone has
people that they admire in their lives. People who they put
on a ... a heroic pedestal, as it were. But you
can't possibly tell me I'm still up there on
yours?"
Crusher shifted uncomfortably. "I wouldn't
say "pedestalea"' Admiral. But I still
admire you a great deal. In many ways ... I
still see you very much the way that I did when I first
met you. Strong, decisive, heroic ...
everything a Starfleet officer was supposed to be.
It's not unusual for first impressions to be lasting
ones, Admiral ... I mean, admit it"--now
he smiled--?y find it just slightly difficult
to seriously believe I'm an adult. Captain
of a starship. Married twice, father of three. But
you look at me and still think of the little kid on
Farpoint who, once upon a time, only had two
goals: to visit the bridge, and to have to shave more
than once a week."
Riker laughed, the boisterousness of his amusement
surprising even himself. "You're right, Wes.
You're bang-on right. It's just that ..."
"Just that what, sir?"
"Just that," Riker said soberly, "there comes a
time in everyone's life where they start to see their
heroes for what they really are: namely, people.
Flawed ... ordinary ... people."
Crusher didn't say anything at first. Something
very unpleasant seemed to be hanging in the
cabin ... an air of self-pity, maybe even
a whiff of mortality. "Are you feeling
particularly flawed and ordinary today,
Admiral?"
"Wes, I haven't felt anything but that for
years now. Look at me, Wes. Look at
me and tell me that you don't see a
broken-down, second-rate starbase commander.
Someone who had potential he never fulfilled.
Someone who was never everything he should have been.
Tell me that you don't look at me and see
someone in whom you're bitterly disappointed."
Someone else would have said such things in tones
bordering on histrionic. Riker, however, did
not. He spoke slowly, succinctly, and in a
voice that indicated he had, quite simply, already
decided these things about himself and come to terms with them.
Crusher's eyes narrowed, and when he spoke,
quiet fire was in his voice. "If that is your
opinion of yourself ... Will ... then you're
certainly entitled to it. But if you're looking for
someone to confirm it for you, I'm afraid you're just
going to have to keep on looking."
Riker let out a slow sigh, tinged with faint
amusement. "Is that your final ^w, Captain?"
"Yes, it is. And since we're on my
ship, and it is my opinion ... then we'll just have
to make it so."
Crusher was about to say something else when suddenly
he half-looked away, in that manner that had
become so customary with the creation of the
minicommunicators. "Excuse me,
Admiral. ... Crusher here." He listened to the
voice that only he could hear and then nodded once.
"Excellent. We'll be right there. Crusher out."
He turned to Riker. "We're five minutes
out of Betazed."
"Smooth and uneventful trip, Captain.
You're to be commended."
"Thank you, sir."
Crusher rose from his chair and headed for the door.
But there he stopped and turned back to Riker.
"Do you want me there, Admiral?"
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary,
Captain."
"It's easily justifiable." Crusher took
a step back into the cabin. "As a Starfleet
captain, it would be eminently politic for me
to be present. And as a ... friend ... I wouldn't
mind being there to lend whatever support I
could."
Riker was ready to dismiss the notion out of hand.
But then he stopped and considered it--really considered
it--and almost to his surprise, he found himself
no.ing. Feeling some ^ws should accompany the
nods, he said, "Very well, Captain. Perhaps it
wouldn't be such a bad idea at that."
Crusher nodded. "Five minutes, then.
Don't be late. Tardiness is mental
slovenliness and is inappropriate for a
Starfleet officer."
"Where'd you pick that up? The Academy?"
"No, sir. You told me that--the first time I
was late for an astrophysics lesson with
Geordi."
"Well, that being the case, I could hardly
ignore such sound advice, could I."
"If it's good enough for the captain of the Hood,"
Wesley Crusher said firmly, "it's good enough for
you." He turned and walked out the door.
Through the viewport of his quarters, Riker could
now see Betazed, coming up fast.
Help me, he said. Help me get through
this, Imzadi.
There was, of course, no answer. Nor had
there been for quite, quite some time.
CHAPTER 5
Betazed was nothing like he remembered it.
Then again, it had been many years since Riker
had set foot on the planet. Not since the days
when he had been first officer of the Enterprise
1701-D, under the command of Capt. Jean-Luc
Picard.
Not since--
He wavered slightly, putting a hand to his
head, and he felt Crusher's firm grip on his
shoulder. "Are you all right, Admiral?"
All the anger, all the resentment and fury that
he had thought he was long past, flashed through him
once more with unexpected heat.
"I'm fine!" he practically snarled. "You
don't have to sound so damned patronizing!"
Young Wesley Crusher would have taken a couple
of steps back. He would have become dead pale,
tried to stammer out some sort of a reply--and
probably failed.
Capt. Wesley Crusher merely removed his
hand from Riker's shoulder, then lanced him
with a grim stare. "I was always raised to believe,
Admiral, that being concerned over someone's welfare
was considered, at the very least, good manners.
Hardly patronizing."
Riker met Crusher's stare and said slowly,
"Yes. Quite right, Captain. My ...
apologies."
Crusher nodded in a way that indicated that, as
far as he was concerned, the minor incident was
closed. Instead, he glanced toward the heavens.
"Looks like the weather's turning nasty on us,
sir."
At that, Riker nodded. It was something that he'd
become accustomed to on Betazed. The majority
of the time, the weather was calm, pleasant, bordering
on the tropical. But when the atmospheric
conditions shifted, they did so with startling and almost
violent speed. One minute, cloudless and blue
skies, and the next minute--bam.
Riker remembered that Lwaxana perpetually
carried an umbrella with her when strolling about,
particularly in the countryside. She had always
prided herself on being ready for anything.
Anything.
"It's this way," said Riker.
They'd materialized on one of the more
well-to-d avenues of the city. The homes were far
apart and set back ... but not too far.
Betazoids walked a fine line between a desire
for privacy and acceptance of its impossibility
--for amidst an empathic society, privacy
was at best a pretense and it was rude to pretend
otherwise.
Crusher could have had them beamed right to their
destination, but before he had specified anything,
Riker had given specific coordinates that
deposited them half a mile from where they wanted
to be. It was as if Riker weren't all that
anxious to arrive at his goal.
Riker set the pace, which was not especially
fast, and Crusher fell into step next to him. The
admiral did not seem particularly interested in
talking, and they might indeed have gone the entire
way in complete silence if an unexpected
voice hadn't chimed in behind them.
"It is you."
Riker and Crusher stopped and turned, and
Riker chuckled low in his throat.
"Wendy Roper. I don't believe it."
The woman who stood behind them seemed a
few years younger than Riker. She was small and
slim, and her white hair, with a few remaining
streaks of black in it, was twisted around in an
elaborate braid. A sparkle in her eyes
made it seem that a very amused young woman was
hiding somewhere in the aged body.
"Will Riker, you old sleaze."
He walked to her and put his arms around her--
tentatively, as if afraid that he might break
her in half. They separated and he looked at
her.
"Don't you dare," she said. "Don't you dare
say I haven't aged at all."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Because the thought that I looked like this half a
century ago would be too much to cope with."
His smile widened. "Can I say you look
great for a woman your age?"
"With my blessing." She ran fingers across his
bearded cheeks. "When did you get so scruffyou?"
"About forty years ago."
"Makes you look ancient."
"I feel ancient." He paused, then shook
his head. "I can't believe you're still here. I
mean, you can't still be assigned here with your father
..."
Her expression saddened slightly. "Daddy
died about ten years ago, W."
"Oh." His face clouded. "I'm sorry.
Oh ... my manners." He stepped back and
waved Crusher closer. "Capt. Wesley
Crusher, this is Wendy Roper."
She shook Crusher's hand firmly but said,
"Wendy Berq, actually."
Riker looked at her in surprise.
"Married?"
"That's usually the way."
"When?"
"Actually, about two years after you left. My
husband is Betazoid ... a teacher. That's why
I stayed."
"My God ..."
She patted him on the arm. "Don't worry
about
it, w. I know news travels slowly out in
space."
He let out a slow breath. "I really am a
sleaze. I've been back planetside a few
times ... but I never saw you. Never tried
to contact you. Not even ..."
"I was at the funeral."
Riker blinked in surprise. "You were? I
didn't see you."
"As I recall, you weren't seeing much of
anything that day."
To that, Riker said nothing. Then, slowly, he
nodded. "That's about right." He paused. "I should
have looked you up. I'm sorry."
"It's understandable. If there's one thing that living
among Betazoids has taught me, it's to be
respectful of people's feelings. If you ask me,
the entire Betazoid credo boils down to one
^w: RaBeem."
Crusher looked momentarily puzzled.
""RaBeem"'?"
Riker glanced at him and said, "It means
"I understand."'"
"Very good, W," said Wendy.
"I had a good teacher."
They stood there for a bit in uneasy silence,
then Wendy cleared her throat. "I won't
play games or pretend this was coincidence, w.
I knew you'd be coming. I knew she'd asked for
you. And I thought--"
"You thought that I could use the moral
support," he said, tossing a look at
Crusher. "I've heard that quite a bit. Well
... fine, Wendy. I suppose the more the ..."
Then he stopped. "I guess that's hardly
appropriate to the situation, is it?"
"Hardly," agreed Wendy.
Riker stood there, feeling as if he'd been
cut adrift. He felt that way a great deal
these days--alone, floating. Unattached to anyone
or anything in the galaxy around him. Clumsy with
his speech, clumsy with his orders, just ...
clumsy. Unable to focus on anything or
decide anything.
Make a decision, you idiot.
"Come on, then," he said. "Let's go."
The three of them walked up the small incline
that led to the mansion that Riker knew so well. It
had been years since he'd been there--a lifetime
ago, it seemed--and yet every angle of the house, every
aspect of it, had been forever etched into his
memory. Tall and graceful, it was constructed
on a reduced scale so that, although the upper
stories were not abnormally high, they seemed to go
on and on, almost touching the sky--the sky that was now
darkening with the customary Betazed speed. And
yet, somehow, it seemed as if it were holding
back. Seemed as if it were waiting for something.
The door was opened before Riker even had the
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