Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

by Peter David [lit]

  hold on each other, mutually deciding that it would

  probably look better if they didn't arrive

  at the rendezvous with the flush of new love upon

  them.

  Tang and several other security people were waiting

  for them. The recovered art treasures of Betazed

  had already been sent on ahead back to the city and were

  safely ensconced back in the museum. Tang

  had also arranged for the bodies of the Sindareen

  raiders to be shipped back--without comment--ffthe

  Sindareen homeworld.

  "Good work, Sergeant," said Riker

  approvingly. He turned and extended a hand

  to Deanna, who took it while maintaining as

  neutral an expression as she could. "This is

  Deanna Troi."

  "Ma'am," Tang greeted her with a slight

  inclination of his head. Then he exchanged looks with

  Riker. If Tang had any inkling as to what had

  gone on in the Jalara Jungle, he gave no

  indication whatsoever. He was far too much of a

  veteran, in every sense of the ^w, to be that open with

  whatever was going through his mind. "You're certain that the

  leader of the raiders was attended to?"

  "Oh, yes," said Riker. "It's not the most

  pleasant thing I've ever witnessed ... but he's

  definitely attended to."

  "Very well then, sir. Shall we go?"

  "By all means, Sergeant."

  The journey back to the city took

  relatively little time. All the way back,

  Deanna and Will exchanged only the most minimal

  of conversation, most of it carefully polite

  inquiries into the health and well-bbing of the other. But

  then, as they approached the outskirts of the city,

  Riker heard in his mind ...

  Why don't you come over to the house tonight.

  Are you sure your mother wouldn't mind?

  Mind? Deanna's voice sounded

  almost scoffing. How could she mind? I imagine

  that she'll want to thank you for saving me. I'd like

  to have her more kindly disposed towards you.

  That would be nice. The thought of her being less

  kindly disposed towards me is a really chilling

  one.

  "I want details."

  Riker stared across Roper's desk at the

  senior Federation representative. "Details

  on what?" asked Riker politely.

  "On what?" Roper looked incredulous. "The

  entire thing! What do you think?" He gestured

  toward the chair for Riker to sit down. "And

  don't hold anything back!"

  With a shrug, Riker started to sit ... and then,

  just on impulse, he swung the chair around and

  straddled it. "It was a fairly straightforward

  operation. We searched the jungle. I was

  fortunate enough to come upon the Sindareen raider before he

  had the chance to injure Deanna. He resisted my

  attempts to capture him and died in a mud

  pit. I brought Deanna to the rendezvous and she

  is, at this moment, safe and sound at home. End

  of story."

  "No," said Roper, waggling a finger. "No,

  not end of story. You and her, out in the jungle. The

  steamy, romantic Jalara Jungle. You having

  just saved her life, her incredibly grateful.

  The atmosphere, the mood. Our bet. Our

  bet, dammit. You're not going to tell me that with

  all that falling your way, you didn't take the

  opportunity to ...?"

  Riker sighed and said, "All right, Mark. I

  have to admit it."

  Eagerly Roper clapped his hands together.

  "Tell me. Go on. Give an old man his

  vicarious thrills."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that," said Riker

  slowly. "What I can give you is your two

  hundred credits."

  Roper's face fell. "You're telling me

  that--"

  "Pure as driven snow, Mark. And I grew

  up in Alaska, so believe me, I know what

  I'm talking about."

  Roper sat back, his expression that of a child

  having just been informed that Santa's existence was,

  at best, a dubious proposition. "I can't

  believe it."

  "Believe it, Mark. To use the old

  baseball parlance, no one bats a thousand. I

  gave it my best moves, but I'm afraid that it

  just didn't happen. And I'm tired of bruising

  my ego trying."

  "I must admit," said Roper, shaking his head,

  "I'm just a bit disappointed. I generally can get

  a feeling about people, Captain. And despite my

  posturing to the contrary, I just had this gut instinct that

  you and Deanna would make a good couple. I've

  generally learned to trust that instinct. I hate

  to find out that I was that much off target."

  "It happens to the best of us, Mark. As far as

  Deanna and I go, I'm afraid I just

  wasn't in her league. But look at the bright

  side. Sure, we both feel frustrated. But

  at least you're frustrated and got two hundred

  credits out of the deal."

  "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

  "It's supposed to make one of us feel

  better."

  Roper studied him for a moment, with Riker

  maintaining a carefully neutral expression.

  "You know what I think?" said Roper after a time.

  "No, Mark. What?"

  "I think that you are the most

  self-satisfied-looking "loser"' I've ever

  seen."

  Riker smiled enigmatically.

  CHAPTER 28

  Riker stood at the entrance of the Troi

  mansion, waiting patiently for the door to open. But

  he waited for what seemed an extraordinarily

  long time before it finally did.

  Mr. Homn wasn't standing there. Lwaxana

  was.

  Riker smiled graciously. "Mrs.

  Troi," he said by way of greeting.

  She forced a smile, but did not step aside

  to allow him admission.

  "Lieutenant," she said slowly, "I want

  you to believe me when I tell you this is not easy

  for me."

  "What isn't easy, Mrs. Troi?"

  "First, I have a moral obligation to thank you.

  You rescued my daughter from a very dangerous

  situation. You have, for that, my eternal gratitude

  and sense of obligation. I will always keep your

  heroism in mind whenever I think of you in the

  future."

  "Thank you."

  But she had clearly not finished. "Because of that,

  I am not using my considerable influence with

  Starfleet to see that you're severely

  reprimanded."

  "I ... I beg your pardon?" But even as

  he said it, the thought flashed through his mind in bleakest

  fashion: She knows.

  Of that, Lwaxana promptly left no

  doubt. "Your subsequent actions with my daughter

  were completely out of line. You took advantage

  of a very incendiary situation."

  "What happened between Deanna and myself, Mrs.

  Troi," said Riker hotly, doing everything he

  could not to lose his temper, "was entirely

  mutual and entirely our business. I want

  to see Deanna." He started to ste
p past

  Lwaxana.

  She put her arms out rigidly and her voice

  was iron. "So help me, Lieutenant, no

  matter what obligation I have to you, if you set

  foot in here without my permission I will have you up

  on charges for criminal trespass. Is that

  clear?"

  He halted in his tracks.

  "I want to see Deanna," he repeated in

  a low but forceful tone.

  "And do what? And say what? What do you have

  to offer her, Lieutenant? What, except a

  further dilution of her purpose."

  "Further ...?"

  She stamped her foot in anger. "Don't you

  understand anything? Anything? Do you have any

  comprehension of what you've shoved your way into the

  middle of? A line of obligation that stretches

  back centuries! Tradition that was already old at

  a time when your ancestors were still discovering the

  mysteries of footwear! Blast it,

  Lieutenant! Deanna isn't like the others!

  She isn't like the other women you've known! She

  isn't even like other Betazoidsffwas Lwaxana

  slapped one hand against her palm for emphasis.

  "Every step of her life has been mapped out for

  her! Her education, her career, her place in

  Betazoid society--all of it!"

  "By you," he said tonelessly.

  "Yes, by me. Of course by me. You think

  I'm eager to shoulder that responsibility? No,

  Lieutenant. No, I'm not. But I do it because

  it's my obligation and I accept it. And

  Deanna has accepted hers, and her obligation and

  her future. And I'm telling you,

  Lieutenant, right here, right now, that it's a

  future in which you don't figure."

  His gaze ice, he said, "That's for Deanna

  and me to decide."

  "Oh, really," Lwaxana said, making no

  effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "And

  where's that decision going to lead? Are you going

  to give up your career exploring the galaxy?

  Pass it up for a permanent position here on

  Betazed? Clip your star-faring wings? Trade in

  your space legs for walking shoes?"

  "I want to see Deanna--"

  "And where's that going to lead, Lieutenant?"

  Lwaxana continued relentlessly. "Are you really

  prepared to give all that up for Deanna? And if

  you do, then how long, Lieutenant? How long before

  the prospect of one planet wears thin on you?

  How long before the sight of the same old sun,

  rising and setting, day after day after day, weighs on

  you, chokes and suffocates you? How long before you

  blame Deanna for making you give it all up?

  A year? Two? Five? When the first rush of

  unbridled romance is faded, Lieutenant, and the

  fires don't burn anywhere near as hot as the

  stars that were once your home ... what's

  going to happen then? Answer me."

  Cold fury choked him and at first he couldn't

  reply. But then, in the hallway behind Lwaxana,

  he spotted her. She was standing there, near the

  bottom of the stairway, a haunted look on her

  face.

  "Deanna!" he shouted to her.

  Her hands moved in small, vague circles.

  Lwaxana looked from one to the other, and then she

  said firmly, "Tell him, Deanna."

  Deanna looked down, unable to put ^ws

  together.

  "Deanna," said Riker, and then he said,

  "Imzadi."

  Lwaxana fired him a look that could have

  extinguished one of those blazing stars to which she'd

  referred moments before.

  And Deanna now looked him square in the

  face. She stood mere yards away, but her tone

  and ^ws made her seem much, much further.

  "She's right, W," said Deanna tonelessly.

  "She's not right! She--"

  "Sooner or later," continued Deanna, as

  if Riker hadn't even spoken, "you're going

  to want to leave. Your place is out there. Mine's

  here." She hesitated, then said, "I have to be

  adult about this. We both do. It's never going

  to get any better for us than it was in the jungle,

  w. That was it. That was the high point. I ... I

  want to remember it that way. Before your nature

  leads you to other places, other women ..."

  "Deanna," he said hopelessly, feeling as

  if she were fading from sight even as she stood there.

  "Let it end on a high note, w. Not in the

  downward spiral of a relationship gone wrong.

  Think about what we had. That's what's

  important. Because there's really nothing for us in the

  future. Nothing."

  She turned on her heel without another ^w.

  Imzadi, he hurled at her bleakly.

  She didn't even slow down as she walked

  ... no, ran from him ... up the stairs and out of

  sight.

  Lwaxana regarded him steadily. There seemed

  no triumph in her eyes, he thought, which was odd.

  "No, it's not odd, Lieutenant," she

  replied to his unspoken thoughts. "I'm not some

  ogress. Believe it or not ... all I want

  is what's best for Deanna. Perhaps if you have children

  someday, you will realize that watching out for

  what's best is not something that brings a great deal of

  pleasure. Sometimes--at times such as this one--it's

  a responsibility filled with much pain. As a

  Starfleet officer ... William ... this should not

  be a particularly alien concept to you. You've

  promised to assume responsibilities that are

  not always going to be gratifying: obeying the orders

  of a superior, even when you disagree. Or staying

  your hand in the name of the Prime Directive, even

  when your sense of morals would have you do otherwise.

  Well, you don't have to be in Starfleet to face

  such difficult moments. Deanna's facing one

  such now ... and so am i. And believe it or not,

  I take no joy in it. Because it's causing my

  daughter sorrow, and I hate having to do that. But

  we all face our responsibilities,

  Lieutenant. We do what we have to do. I know and

  accept that, as does Deanna. And now I think

  it's time that you faced up to that as well. Good day,

  Lieutenant."

  The door closed in his face.

  CHAPTER 29

  The Scotch burned as it went down Riker's

  throat.

  He had gotten it from Tang. The sergeant had

  seen Riker's bleak mood when the young Starfleet

  officer had returned from the Troi homestead and

  without a ^w had extracted the bottle from his

  private stock, offering it to Riker with the contention that

  it could make everything go down more smoothly ...

  frustration, pain, hurt, whatever.

  Riker stared at the bottle, then gripped it

  firmly by the neck. He had looked at Tang

  and asked, "Are you interested in joining me?"

  Tang had placed his hands behind his back and

  rocked on his heels thoughtfully. "Frankly,

  sir," he had said after a moment's thought, "I

  don't think you'd want me there. There are times
>
  when a man just wants to get stinking drunk on his

  own."

  Riker had nodded. "Sergeant, you're wise

  beyond your rank."

  "Thank you, sir. All part--"

  his--ofthe service," Riker had finished along with

  him.

  Now Riker, alone in his quarters, poured himself

  another glass. He resisted the impulse to just

  swig it directly from the bottle. Somehow such

  action didn't seem remotely in keeping with

  Starfleet decorum. He was sure that somewhere, in

  some regulations book, he had read that rule one

  of being an officer was that an officer always drank from

  a glass.

  He tossed back another shot and tried

  to remember what in hell had gotten him so

  upset in the first place.

  "Deanna," he said out loud, and consequently

  reminded himself.

  What in hell had he been thinking of,

  anyway? Getting involved with a local that way.

  That kind of thing never led to anything but trouble. And not

  just involved, no. He'd actually had to go and get

  ... feelings for her.

  "Not feelings," he muttered to himself, and tried

  to take consolation in that. Yes, that had to be it.

  He hadn't really felt anything for her. Not

  really. It had all been ... been

  self-delusion. An attempt to convince himself that

  there was some sort of genuine love for her rattling

  around in that brain of his, because that was the only

  emotion that her type would accept before they would get

  to the really worthwhile part of a relationship.

  Yes, the worthwhile part, which was ... which was ...

  He frowned. "What was the worthwhile part

  again?" he said.

  The door chimed.

  Riker tapped his communicator. "Riker

  here." He waited for a response.

  The door chimed again.

  Again Riker tapped his comm unit. "Riker

  here," he said with growing irritation.

  "Will?" came the voice of Wendy Roper through

  the door.

  "Speak up, Wendy," he told the

  communicator. "We have a lousy connection."

  "Will, I want to see you."

  He shrugged. "Sure. Come on over."

  The door slid open and Wendy entered. Riker

  blinked in surprise. "That was fast."

  Wendy didn't quite understand what he was talking

  about, but didn't pretend to. "I heard you were

  upset about something, W."

  "Nonsense!" he declared, rising slowly to his

  feet. "Do I sound upset?"

  "No. Actually, you sound drunk."

  "Drunk!" said Riker indignantly. "That,