night while you were asleep, he must have shot you up
with something to make sure you stayed asleep--or
perhaps even something that induced sleepwalking. He
brought you out to the Guardian, used you in your
sleeping state to open the force field, returned
you to where you were sleeping, stepped into the Guardian
..."
"And the rest is history," said Blair.
Riker smiled. "Not anymore."
Moments later, Mary Mac had enlisted
Blair's aid in dragging the unconscious Mar
Loc away, vowing that when she got through with her
report to the Federation science council,
Mar Loc was going to be sent somewhere where time could
truly be appreciated ... an Orion
prison (for his crimes against Mary Mac), where
life was so difficult that days tended to pass like
years.
"I want you to understand, Admiral," Data
said slowly as they stared into the glowing arch of the
Guardian of Forever, "that I am truly sorry
for my actions."
"It's all right, Data. On the face of it
... what you did, or tried to do, was correct."
"Curious ... in my efforts to kill
Deanna Troi, I made several mistakes.
I did not intend to, but I did. They were almost
clumsy in nature."
"Perhaps, Data, you did it on purpose.
Perhaps you wanted to be stopped."
Data looked at Riker with curiosity.
"Is that possible?"
"Of course it's possible. One of the key things
about being human, Data ... is that you don't
always know why you do the things you do."
"How very odd. I must admit ... I did
feel somewhat like Brutus."
"Ah, but Brutus, remember, was an
honorable man," pointed out Riker. "The
important thing is that it's all worked out for the
best."
"Has it?"
Riker looked at Data speculatively.
"What do you mean?"
Data gestured around them. "While we are on
this planet, Admiral, in the heart of the
temporal vortex ... we are untouched
by whatever changes might have been made by your
reparations. When Mar Loc originally altered
time, we--and our memories--were simply
altered with it. We had no awareness that anything was
different. Now, however, we were at the center of the
change. Although you were the architect of the restoration,
the actual changes were made without us being a part of
them in the here and now. When we leave this world ...
there is no certainty as to what will happen to us.
Our memories may shift to accommodate the
new time stream. Or we may retain our
memories, but find ourselves in a strange new
environment. There is even a remote
possibility that we may simply blink out of
existence, if we do not exist as entities in this
time stream."
"I don't think that's going to happen. And you
know why, Data? Because I meant what I said
earlier. I think that this thing"--Riker pointed to the
Guardian--?is God's window. And I don't
think that God would have let us in through his window if
he didn't intend for us to live in his house."
"That's very spiritual, Admiral."
"I didn't use to be a spiritual person, but
I had a good teacher."
Riker gazed up at the swirling skies, the
vast colored streaks and the miasma of temporal
rifts that formed the heavens above the Forever World.
Distracted, he said, "I really don't know
what else there is to say, Data, except
..."
"Let's get the hell out of here?" suggested
Data.
Not looking away from the skies, Riker
simply nodded. "I think that probably covers
it," he said, but he wasn't paying attention.
And he realized that in the sky's swirling and
whirlpool shape, he saw a painting he'd seen
a lifetime ago. ...
"We're going to face a new and different
universe, Admiral. Are you not at all
afraid?"
There were reds and purples, and then, in the midst
of that vast mixture of cosmic existence, Riker
saw a face. ...
"No, Data," he said quietly. "I'm not
afraid at all. I think it's going to work out just
fine."
And he called out, as he had called out in
hopelessness and despair for year upon year of
desolation.
And the answer came.
Whether it was from within him, or whether it came from
somewhere out there in the galaxy, from someone who was the
better part of all that he was, he couldn't be
sure.
But it was there just the same. Tears came to his
eyes as he heard, in his head, the ^ws that he had
waited half a lifetime to hear. Sweet and
musical, in a voice filled with promise.
And the ^ws were:
Welcome home ... Imzadi ...
Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1 Page 39
