Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

by Peter David [lit]

  something of yourself in him."

  "No," said Riker firmly. "Very, very little.

  To be honest, he reminded me of ..." Then he

  stopped.

  "Of who, Number One?"

  Riker sighed. "He reminded me of my father."

  Deanna chuckled, and Riker shot her a

  look.

  "Yes, well," said Picard, trying to hide

  his own smile, "be that as it may ... due to the

  delicate situation that we're in, we're going

  to keep this on a need-to-know basis. However

  ... there is someone whom I feel that it's

  important to consult. Someone who should be able

  to afford some unique insight into our situation."

  On the bridge, Data answered the signal

  on his communicator. "Commander Data here."

  Over the comm unit came the familiar,

  clipped tone of Picard. "Mr. Data ...

  I have a matter of some urgency to discuss with you.

  Please report to your quarters immediately."

  "My quarters?" Data tilted his head in

  curiosity. "That is a rather unusual procedure,

  Captain."

  "We're in a rather unusual situation, Mr.

  Data."

  "Very well, Captain," said Data, standing.

  "I will be there directly."

  Lieutenant Barclay was walking down the

  corridor, feeling disoriented, and he bumped

  shoulders with Data just as he passed the android

  officer's cabin. Data looked at him

  curiously. "Lieutenant ... are you quite all

  right?"

  "I'm ... I'm fine, sir," said Barclay

  hollowly.

  "Very well." Data turned and walked into his

  cabin.

  Barclay sighed. He still didn't know

  what to make of his holodeck experience. Perhaps

  ... perhaps he simply needed some regular,

  normal RandR. Not something holodeck-generated.

  Some real experience instead. Otherwise ...

  Well ... was it possible that he was having

  difficulty separating fantasy from reality? Was

  he, in fact, totally losing touch with the world around

  him?

  No, he thought. It couldn't be. It simply

  couldn't ...

  He turned a corner and bumped shoulders with

  Data.

  Barclay stepped back, gasping in confusion.

  "But ... but ..."

  Data stared at him, his yellow eyes

  glittering in curiosity. "Lieutenant, are you

  quite all right?"

  With an insane sense of d@ej@a vu,

  Barclay stammered out, "I'm ... I'm fine,

  sir."

  "Very well," said Data, taking him at his ^w

  and continuing on his way toward his cabin.

  Barclay's head snapped back and forth like a

  yo-yo. Then he sagged against a wall and whimpered

  like a lost child.

  Data entered his cabin and said, "Captain?"

  The door closed behind him, but there was no sign

  of Picard. "Captain?" he said again.

  He sensed a presence behind himself and he spun

  ...

  And a hand was already at his off-switch. He did

  not even manage to get a look at his

  assailant before he went limp.

  The gold-skinned intruder lowered the insensate

  android onto the bed and then stepped back. Then

  he turned and studied his reflection in the

  mirror.

  Perfect, of course. But then again, why shouldn't

  he be? He was, after all, the same

  individual. He hadn't aged a day. His body

  was the same, his brainpower undiminished. And his

  ability to mimic voices--in this case,

  Picard's--had been invaluable.

  He tilted his head as a thought hit him. He

  had no recollection of this event ever occurring.

  But it had just happened in, effectively, his own

  past. How was it possible for something to have happened

  to him without his remembering it?

  For that matter, how could Admiral

  Riker be acting as if the entire notion of saving

  Deanna Troi was just occurring to him? If he

  had gone back in time to his own past, then he should

  be aware of everything that had already happened. But

  unless he was engaging in a massive subterfuge

  for Data's benefit ...

  No. Data didn't think that was what was

  happening. The only thing that he could conceive of was that

  neither he nor Admiral Riker had any

  memory of the events because, to all intents and

  purposes, they hadn't happened yet. Right here,

  right now, was where they were shaping all that was to come.

  Except all that was to come had already been shaped.

  Riker was trying to remold it to his own image.

  Data, on the other hand, had to try to preserve

  it.

  Deanna Troi could not live to affect the

  peace conference ... no matter what was required.

  He removed the communicator from the

  unconscious Data's uniform, removed the one

  that he had taken from the same supplies room that

  he had stolen the uniform from that he was now wearing, and

  affixed Data's actual communicator to his

  uniform front. No point in leaving anything

  to chance.

  He tapped the communicator. "Computer," he

  said briskly, "locate Counselor Deanna

  Troi."

  For one moment he hoped that the computer would say,

  "Deanna Troi is in the morgue." That would have

  simplified things immensely.

  Instead the computer said, "Deanna Troi is

  in her quarters."

  Data nodded. Then he went to the unmoving form

  of Lieutenant Commander Data, made one

  small change to it as a safety precaution, and

  headed off to kill the ship's counselor.

  CHAPTER 40

  Picard had gone straight from Riker's cabin

  to the Ten-Forward, and now he said in soft tones

  to Guinan, after telling her as much as he knew,

  "What do you think?"

  "What do I think? I think it's possible,"

  Guinan allowed.

  "Would you know?" asked Picard. "If time had

  shifted around us ... one way or the other ... would

  you be aware of it? You've intimated in the past that

  you have a sensitivity for such things."

  "A sensitivity, yes, but I'm not

  omniscient." She had just poured Picard a

  drink and slid it over to him. Now she stared at

  her reflection in the glass. "Look ... I

  live day to day, same as you, Captain. Same

  as anyone. Now if there's a large enough disturbance

  in the space-time continuum ... particularly when it

  has its origins in the past ... I might be

  aware of it and be able to tell you that something's wrong.

  But if it's happening right here, right now"--she

  shook her head--?then I'm on the same roller

  coaster as you are, Captain. And all we can do

  is hold on."

  He nodded. "For a moment I toyed with the notion

  of canceling the peace conference. After all, it would

  logically appear that an attempt on her life

  would be connected with the conference. Or I could have all

  the delegates questioned, or ..." Then he shoo
k his

  head in exasperation. "But now we enter the realm of

  temporal second-guessing. How far do I go,

  beyond guarding Deanna? If none of this had

  happened, then I would have no reason to take

  extraordinary measures. Which means that I really

  don't have any reason now."

  "Best to let matters proceed then," said

  Guinan.

  Again Picard nodded.

  At that moment Data walked into the

  Ten-Forward. He looked around thoughtfully, then

  glanced up as Picard gestured for him to come over.

  Data took a place next to the captain, and

  politely nodded to Guinan.

  "A question, Captain," said Data. "Why are

  Lieutenant Worf and three other security

  guards stationed around Counselor Troi's

  quarters?"

  Picard glanced at Guinan and then lowered his

  glass. "I will tell you, Data, and will inform

  Commander Riker that you have been brought into our little

  circle of secrecy. But it is to go no further.

  Now the official reason is that an unknown

  assailant, presently in the brig, made an

  attempt on the counselor's life. That much

  is, in fact, true. However, it's quite a bit more

  involved than that ..."

  Data, naturally, knew precisely how

  involved it was.

  He had gone to Troi's quarters, and when he

  had seen the guards there ... including a scowling

  Worf studying every passerby with intense

  scrutiny ... he knew he had a problem. It

  was, of course, perfectly likely that he could

  force his way past Worf and the others. They were not

  expecting a friendly face to turn on them, and he

  could probably down them before they could mount a

  serious defense. Deanna would have been dead before

  any help could have been summoned, and once that

  happened, the currents of time would have pulled him--

  and presumably, Riker and Blair--back to their

  own time.

  But to attack her so overtly would have exposed that

  there was more than one Data waltzing around on the

  Enterprise. Or even worse ... what if the

  present Data were unable to convince the others that he

  had not, in fact, simply gone berserk? In one

  scenario, they would have come to the realization that Data

  still existed in the future ... and that knowledge could have

  serious consequences. On the other hand, if they

  simply decided that their own Data had become

  unreliable, or even dangerous, they might

  conclude that the only reasonable course of action was

  to deactivate or dismantle him. If they did

  that ...

  Then what?

  Would he, the Data of the future, then cease

  to exist? And if he didn't exist, then who would

  go back to stop Admiral Riker? But if he

  didn't exist to come back to try to stop

  Admiral Riker, then how could he possibly

  kill Deanna Troi and set in motion the

  events that could get himself shut off? And who ...?

  It was this sort of self-involving confusion that had

  once prompted Geordi LaForge to declare,

  during one such discussion of a theoretical paradox,

  "This is precisely why time travel gives me

  nosebleeds."

  Data didn't have a nosebleed. Data had

  a situation.

  But one way to remedy that situation was to get himself

  "officially" brought into the information loop. Which was

  precisely what he was doing now.

  And once he had that information, it was just a matter

  of determining the most effective way to proceed.

  CHAPTER 41

  There had been one change of security guards

  since the captain ordered the guard. Worf,

  however, had remained. This did not surprise

  anyone. In similar situations, Worf

  had displayed stamina that was, quite simply,

  inhuman.

  As a result, when Will Riker approached,

  Worf turned to him with just as fierce a

  protective glare as he had possessed since

  he'd first taken his post.

  "No one has seen or spoken to Counselor

  Troi," Worf said, "except for a carefully

  supervised visit by Dr. Crusher."

  Riker nodded approvingly. "Good. Despite

  everything that happened last night, she wanted to be

  fresh for the peace conference." He tapped his

  communicator. "Riker to Counselor Troi.

  Are you awake, Deanna?"

  "Yes, Commander. Awake and ready to go."

  "Good." He gestured for Worf and the others

  to follow, and they entered behind him. Worf observed

  that Riker was wearing a phaser. Silently he

  approved.

  Deanna was standing there, looking radiant.

  "How are you feeling today, Counselor?"

  "Well," she said, extending her neck.

  "Actually I wound up sleeping in a slightly

  awkward position. My neck is a little stiff."

  "Need me to get the kink out?"

  "No." She smiled. "Actually ... the pain

  isn't so bad. It reminds me that I'm

  alive."

  Riker returned the smile. "I can think of more

  pleasurable ways to be reminded of being alive."

  "Yes, Commander," she said dryly. "I'm

  sure you can. Well"--she slapped her thighs and

  rose--?ffthe peace conference, then."

  They started down the hallway--Deanna,

  Worf, Riker, and the guards. They attracted

  curious glances as others walked past them in the

  corridor, and in a low voice Deanna asked,

  "Do I really require an entire entourage?"

  "Just until we get to the conference room," said

  Riker. "We've shifted the location, however, to the

  high-security conference room. We've set up

  a low-level null field that will detect any

  sort of weapons. Once you're there you'll be

  safe, and Worf and the others can return to their

  duties."

  "My duty," said Worf firmly, "is

  to ascertain the safety of all personnel."

  "And you've done an excellent job,

  Worf," Deanna told him.

  The Klingon merely grunted.

  "Are you sure you're all right?" Riker asked

  her.

  Deanna nodded. "Right after you posted the

  guards, Beverly came down to check me over."

  "Yes, so I heard. "Carefully

  supervised."'"

  "Her instruments didn't detect anything

  wrong with me. And yet I felt something ... or

  at least, for a few moments, I had. That burning

  sensation I mentioned. But then it vanished. I can

  only assume that whatever was in that vial did

  whatever it was supposed to do. I truly owe a

  great debt to ... both of you."

  "I know," said w. "We both do. I was

  thinking about it last night ... and maybe I was a

  little hard on him. I mean, it took real guts

  to do what he did. I don't know if I could have

  done it."

  She patted him on the arm. "Don't worry,

  Commander. I suspect the answer is yes ... but

  hopefully you'll never have to find out."

>   In the quarters of Commander Riker, Adm.

  William Riker crouched in a corner and pulled

  at the heel of his boot.

  He had kept a careful eye on his

  chronometer and now said, "Computer ... locate

  Deanna Troi."

  The communications function for the cabin had been

  deliberately disabled by Commander Riker.

  Wisely, he had anticipated the possibility

  that his older self might try to take advantage

  of their natural voice similarities and use that

  function to summon help from some unknowing individ-

  ual. But the locator function still worked just fine.

  "Deanna Troi is on deck

  twenty-three," replied the computer.

  "Probable destination?"

  The computer did not hesitate. "The Sindareen

  peace conference is scheduled for conference room

  twenty-three-D. Deanna Troi is among

  the personnel scheduled to attend the conference. She

  is presently one hundred and fifty meters from

  the conference room and moving towards it. The

  likelihood that her destination is the conference room

  is approximately--"

  "Never mind. I get the idea."

  He twisted the heel of his boot and it came

  clean off. Holding his palm under it, he upended

  it.

  A miniature phaser fell into his palm.

  He nodded approvingly and snapped the heel

  back in place.

  As he did so, he prayed that he had done the

  right thing in withholding the information that he had. He could

  have told them so easily that the Sindareen were being

  duplicitous. Flushing that knowledge out into the open might

  have ended all of this ... especially if it was, in

  fact, the Sindareen who were somehow behind the whole

  thing.

  But he had spoken the truth to Picard. He was

  indeed treading on very shaky ground and was not at all

  sure just how far he should go in giving them information.

  Should he tell them about the Sindareen? Should he

  tell them about the fact that perhaps Data himself--

  Data from the future--might be wandering the ship?

  Certainly if he had been Data, that's what

  he would have done: gone back himself. Who knew the

  ship better? Who could blend in more effectively

  than someone who was already supposed to be there?

  He couldn't just tell them all these things. Where

  would it end? Worse ... what would it begin?

  But he could take action himself ... actions without

  explaining them. Be Deanna's guardian

  angel. Her knight, her cowboy riding to the