to be heels over head in love in order to be
intimate with someone. Maybe you'll discover that the
physical side can have its own rewards, now that
you've allowed yourself to experience it."
"Perhaps," she said evenly. "But there's one thing
of which I'm reasonably sure at this point."
"Oh, really? What?"
"That you're not going to be there to find out."
He tried to think of a response to that, but before
he could, she put a hand to his cheek and said,
sounding not angry, but simply sad, "I'm
sorry, w. I just don't think there's a
future for us."
And she turned and walked away.
Riker stood there, unmoving, watching her go.
Wanting to say something, but unable to. Perhaps it was
the drink still buzzing in his head, or perhaps there
simply were no ^ws ... or even thoughts.
He turned and there was Sergeant Tang, leaning
against a wall and regarding him thoughtfully.
"You were right to let her go, sir," said
Tang. "Mark me, there's a twinkling star for every
broken heart that a Starfleet man leaves--"
"Shut up, Tang," said Riker, and walked
past him, heading back to his quarters.
Tang, unruffled, merely nodded. "Shutting
up, sir. All part of the service."
Deanna Troi peeked into the study, sensing that
her mother was still there.
Lwaxana was staring at a small holograph.
She said nothing to Deanna, but Deanna sensed that
her mother was not mentally wishing her to stay away.
Tentatively, she entered the study and peered over
her mother's shoulder.
"That's Grandmother, isn't it," said Deanna.
Lwaxana merely nodded.
There was a long silence, and then Deanna said,
"I just came to get some of my things."
Her mother stared at the holograph for a time longer
and then said, "You know ... when I said that if you
went out the door, you couldn't return ... the ^ws
sounded familiar somehow. I racked my brain
trying to remember where I'd heard them."
"And did you?"
"Mm-hmm. My mother"--Lwaxana waved the
holograph slightly--?sd it to me. When I
told her I wanted to marry your father."
"She had her own plans for you?"
"Of course. Just as you are promised
to Wyatt, I was promised to ... what was his
name?" She paused, and then remembered.
"Stahly. That was it. But when we were of the proper
age, we met for the first time, and ... well, things
just didn't ... work out."
Deanna hunkered down next to her mother,
fascinated. Lwaxana had never spoken of this
before. "Why not? Didn't you like each other?"
"Oh, we got on quite well. I liked him,
he liked me. But ... I knew moments after we
were introduced that it was hopeless. For one thing ...
he was in love with someone else."
"Another woman?"
Lwaxana looked at her bleakly. "Another
man."
All Deanna could say was, "Oh."
"The hell of it was," admitted Lwaxana,
"they made a cuter couple than we did."
Deanna tried not to smile. "It must have been
very difficult for you."
"Well, fortunately it was shortly
after that that I met your father. But my mother was stung
by the lack of success for her match, and so she
rejected out of hand whomever I brought home. We
had an explosive argument about it. She disliked
everything about your father."
"As much as you dislike Will Riker?"
"Oh, no ... my dear, you thought I was
difficult?" Lwaxana laughed mirthlessly.
"She was much worse. Much much worse. Because
to her, it was a matter of wounded pride. The notion
that I could find a mate for myself where she had
failed. And when I stormed out, through that very door,
in fact"--she pointed to the front door--?she
told me that I shouldn't bother coming back. Oh,
she didn't mean it, of course. Well ...
maybe at the time, she did."
"And did you mean it when you said it to me?"
Lwaxana regarded her thoughtfully. "At the
time." Then she spread her arms. "Oh,
Deanna ... I'm so sorry."
Deanna leaned forward and her mother embraced
her. "Sorry for what, Mother?"
"Sorry because I know what happened when you went
to see Lieutenant Riker. I mean ... a mother
knows these things."
"Especially when a mother can read minds."
"That's true. And also ... I'm sorry because
you were right about something. About how ... things between us have
changed. And we can't go back to the way they
were."
"Why are you sorry about that, Mother?"
"Because I liked the way things were," said
Lwaxana plaintively. "It was nice,
simple, uncomplicated." But then she sighed and
patted Deanna's hand. "But it wasn't what you
wanted. I understand that. And I really am not an
ogress, Deanna."
"I know, Mother."
"I just ask one thing. Please ... please
don't become a naked blue dancer on
Zetli. It's so chilly there, I can guarantee
you, you'll catch your death."
"All right, Mother." Deanna smiled.
"Tell you what. Not only do I promise not
to become a naked dancer of any color, but
I'll stay with my psychology studies. Although
... I don't rule out Starfleet as an
eventual outlet for my career."
Lwaxana appeared about to object, but instead
she simply nodded her head. "Whatever
will make you happy, dear."
"Thank you, Mother."
"You know, it's so late at night, and you ran
out without having dinner. You must be starving."
"I ... am a little hungry," admitted
Deanna.
"Would you like something to eat?"
"That'd be nice."
As soon as Deanna said it, she realized
she'd misspoken, and she thrust her hand forward and
put it gently over Lwaxana's mouth before her
mother could bellow for Mr. Homn.
"Mother," she said softly, "I'll make my
own dinner. In fact, if you'd like, I'll even
make something for you."
Lwaxana looked thunderstruck. "Yourself?"
"Yes, Mother."
Lwaxana let out an amazed breath. "You
are full of radical ideas today, aren't you.
All right ... let's go." She stood and looked
around, momentarily confused. "Now ... which way is
the kitchen?"
Deanna took her by the elbow. "I'll show
you, Mother," she said with a smile.
Lwaxana shook her head as Deanna led her
off. "Children nowadays and their crazy notions.
Starfleet. Cooking. I don't know what the world
is coming to. ..."
CHAPTER 31
Roper looked up as Riker walked slowly
into the caf@e. "You're late, Captain," he
admonished him.
Riker just nodded ... very slowly. He
sat
down and the waitress brought some black coffee
over to him unasked. He was silently grateful.
"I hear," said Roper casually, "that there was
something of a brouhaha last night."
"Something like that." Riker didn't even want
to ask him where he'd heard it. Either it was from one
of the security men describing the idiot behavior
of a senior officer, or else it was from Roper's
own daughter describing the aftermath of an
assignation. Either way it wasn't something he
wanted to dwell on.
"Planetside relationships can get somewhat
tangled, eh?" said Roper. "That's the
advantage of being in a ship. Hit and run, as
it were."
Riker just nodded and let the coffee flow into his
veins, reestablishing some measure of coherency.
"You must be happy about getting out of here."
Something about the phrasing caught Riker's
attention, burrowing through the alcoholic haze.
"I've ... I've got at least another month
here."
But Roper shook his head. "I thought you'd
heard. Hood repairs finished faster than
anticipated. You're out of here in twenty-four
hours, Captain."
Riker felt a charge in his head as if a
life-support system had come on line. "You
mean ... you mean I'm shipping out?"
"That's right. So you'd better get yourself shaped
up. There's paperwork for you to finish up. Forms
to be filled out, reports on the Sindareen
business. Got to have everything tied off nice and
neat before we kick you loose."
Riker stood quickly, tossing the coffee down his
throat and trying to ignore the fact that, in so
doing, he'd just burned himself. "Mark--Mark,
thank you. This is great news. This is ..."
Mark pumped his hand and said, smiling, "When
you're out carving yourself a career, just think about us
poor planet-crawlers every now and then, okay?"
"I will, Mark. You can bet on that."
"Then get a move on, Captain."
Riker released Roper's hand and bolted out of the
caf@e. Mark watched him go and then sighed.
"Kids."
Everything had been attended to.
Alm.
Riker told himself that he was making a final
stop at the art museum to verify for himself that
everything was back in place and restored to order.
After all, Starfleet would want nothing to be
overlooked.
But he found himself standing for an overlong time in
front of one particular painting: the one Deanna
had showed him, the one with all the large concentric
"goopy" swirls.
He stared at it.
Then he heard the music floating from nearby.
And somehow, in a way that he couldn't quite explain,
the music seemed to enhance what he was looking at.
As if dancing to the notes, the colors began
slowly to swirl. It bore a striking
resemblance, Riker realized, to stars
swimming about in a sort of galactic
whirlpool. No, not just stars ... stars and
planets, and perhaps ... perhaps that was something like what
the universe had looked like in the throes of
creation. Void and miasmic and filled with
promise and possibilities ...
He sensed her standing next to him. But he
couldn't turn to face her.
"You're leaving," said Deanna.
"Yes."
"I wish you safe voyage."
"I wish you ..." He stopped and found the
strength to look at her. He had turned quickly,
andfora moment his mind's eye superimposed the flow
of the painting over her. For one insane second,
she was, literally, the center of his universe.
"I wish you could come with me," he said at last.
She shook her head. "You know, Imzadi ...
for a time there, I was ready to change my universe
for you. But now ... now I don't think either of us
is ready for that."
He tried to say that she was wrong, but he
couldn't. So instead he tried to find some way
to say good-bye. But he couldn't do that either.
He turned and looked back at the painting.
Such vastness that encompassed everything there was ... and
yet somehow, now, it seemed completely empty.
"Deanna." He turned back to her.
"Maybe ..."
But she was gone.
He hadn't even said good-bye. Dammit,
he'd said nothing to her ... because he hadn't been
able to find the ^ws. And so he'd blanked his mind,
and now she probably thought that he didn't care
all that much. If he were able to part from her with such
apparent ease, without even a ^w ...
He took a step in the direction he was sure
she had gone ... but then stopped. Because he knew,
beyond any question, that this was the way she wanted it. And
somehow, somewhere along the way what she wanted had
become more important to him than what he
wanted.
CHAPTER 32
Captain's Log, Stardate 42372.5:
Of the twenty-four hours Q allotted us
to prove ourselves, eleven have now passed without
incident. And yet I cannot forget Q's
prediction that we will face here some
critical test of human worth.
As the Enterprise continued to orbit around
Cygnus IV, Commander Riker sat across from his
new captain in the ready room. Both of them were
equally concerned about what they percvd as oddities
on Farpoint Station, but neither was certain
precisely how to proceed.
The thing that Riker was pleased about, however, was that
Picard had so clearly accepted him without
reservation. Once Picard had welcomed him
aboard and set out the ground rules, it was as if the
captain had left any sort of doubt behind him.
Unlike other commanders under whom he'd served,
Riker felt no pressure that he had
to impress Picard. Instead Picard was clearly
going to deal with him in a straightforward,
no-nonsense manner. It was an attitude that
Riker welcomed.
Studying his notes on Cygnus IV,
Riker said, "This planet's interior heat
results in abundant geothermal energy, sir.
But it's about all this world does offer."
Picard looked thoughtful. "And it's your belief
that this is what made it possible for them to construct
this base to Starfleet standards?"
"Yes, sir." Riker leaned forward. "We have
to assume that they've been trading their surplus
energy for the construction materials used here. According
to our ship's scans, many of the materials used are
not found on this world."
Picard smiled slightly. "Perhaps it's like those
incidents you describe in your report as "alm
magical"' attempts to please us."
From any other captain, that might have sounded
patronizing. But Picard was merely stating the
facts. Accordingly, Riker nodded. "Those events
did
happen, sir."
"And in time we'll discover the explanation.
Meanwhile, none of it suggests anything threatening.
If only every life-form had as much desire
to please Starfleet."
Riker knew what Picard meant. With the
Ferengii to contend with, not to mention the Orions, the
Sindareen ... plus the ever-present notion that the
Romulans might be heard from again ... there were
certainly enough hazards for the Federation to deal with. And
then this Q had shown up, whose actions Riker had
reviewed earlier, just to make things even more
difficult.
Picard rose. "Ready to beam down? I'm
looking forward to meeting this Groppler Zorn."
Riker waited for Picard to come around the desk.
After Riker's big speech earlier about being
protective of the captain, he wasn't thrilled
that Picard was immediately going to beam down and meet
with the head of Farpoint Station. If there was some
unknown danger, it would be extremely bad if that
danger suddenly became known in the course of
Picard's visit planetside. Still, there
appeared to be no jeopardy at the moment, and so
Riker kept his counsel. As Picard preceded
him to the door, Riker said, "I'm convinced there's
more to it than just "pleasing us,"' sir."
Picard looked thoughtful. "Like something Q is
doing to trick us?"
As they stepped out toward the turbolift,
Riker noticed the turbolift door opening. His
view of the occupant was momentarily blocked
by Picard's raised arm as the captain gestured and
said, "Over here, Counselorffwas He turned
to Riker and said, "I've asked her to join us in this
meeting."
A ship's counselor. Riker had never served
on a ship large enough, or on a long enough
mission, that a counselor was required. Besides, the
position was a relatively new one
to Starfleet, only having been developed over
the last few years. Since Riker had unbounded
confidence in his own mental balance, he doubted that
he'd have much need for a counselor's services, but
thought a lot of people on the Enterprise could
probably make good use of one. He just hoped
that he or she wasn't going to be one of these
excessively cerebral types who tried to read
something into everything that was said, no matter how
casual.
Now Riker had a clear view of her ... and
he felt all the blood drain from his face.
Picard had turned to the woman and was saying,
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