Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1

  understand."

  He waited. With her eyes wide, her lips

  mere inches from his, she whispered, "Shut up and

  kiss me, Riker."

  He did.

  Moments later, all the perfectly logical

  reasons why this was wrong, inappropriate,

  completely incorrect behavior for a Starfleet

  officer ... all those blessed reasons flew

  completely out of Riker's mind. Instead all there

  was was her, was the moistness of the jungle combined with the

  sweat of her. The rustling of trees mixed with the

  rustling of clothes, and this time when their nude

  bodies pressed against each other, there was no

  intellectualizing, no deep discussions that

  required anything beyond soft, whispered ^ws,

  punctuated by faint, occasional gasps.

  In that moment they knew all there was to know of each

  other ... body and soul, flesh and spirit, all

  combined and permeating every inch of both of them. Instead of

  moving away from each other, instead of resisting the

  pull, they gave in to it completely. They

  complemented each other, became each other, filling

  out each other's needs and rejoicing as pressures

  built in them. Throughout the Jalara Jungle it

  seemed that all noise had ceased. That there was

  nothing in the jungle, nothing in the planet, nothing

  in the universe except the two of them and their

  discovery, their admission, of their mutual need and

  hunger.

  The pressure built beyond their ability to contain

  and they released, clutching each other, as if hoping

  they could meld their bodies into one as seamlessly as

  they had with their souls. And somewhere, somewhere deep within

  Riker's mind, merged with his spirit, a ^w echoed.

  A ^w that he had never heard before. A ^w filled

  with mystery and promise and a future ...

  And the ^w was Imzadi.

  They lay next to each other, Deanna's head

  against his shoulder. She ran her fingers idly across

  his chest hair.

  "I hear that's for traction." It was the longest

  sentence she had uttered in half an hour ... the

  first sentence since their lovemaking. Their most

  recent lovemaking, to be precise, although how many

  times they had engaged in their mutual sexual

  calisthenics was a bit of a mystery to both of them.

  Things had blurred one into the other; had just finished

  and begun again with hardly a ^w passing between them. It

  was as if, having decided upon a course of action,

  they were both afraid to speak after that for fear of

  botching it up somehow.

  They had not moved from the spot where it had all

  first begun untold hours ago, and

  Riker had a feeling that impressions had been

  dug into the ground that would probably mystify

  future geologists.

  "You heard about that, did you?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Chandra's father told her. She

  told me."

  "Oh. Well ... yes. Traction." Riker

  paused, trying to find something to say.

  She said it for him. "So where do we go from here?"

  "To the rendezvous point. But I have a feeling

  we're going to be pretty late."

  "That's not what I meant."

  "I know." He turned over, propping himself

  up on his elbow, and ran his fingers through her hair.

  He picked out a length of vine that had become

  tangled up in it and was about to toss it aside. But

  she took it from him.

  "No. I want to keep that. As a souvenir."

  "A piece of vine?" he asked

  incredulously.

  She shrugged.

  "In answer to your question ... I don't know.

  I know how you make me feel. I think I know

  how I make you feel. But I ... I don't

  have any answers. I'm still getting this all sorted

  out. I mean ... you're the expert on feelings.

  What do you think?"

  She sighed. She felt slightly chilled,

  even in the warm jungle air, and she drew her

  naked body tightly against his. "I don't

  know. That's ... that's what I find appealing about

  you, w. When I'm with you ... I don't think."

  He raised an amused eyebrow. "I'm not

  sure how to take that."

  "When I'm with you ... when I think about you ...

  all my training, all my ... my

  overintellectualizing, as you put it ... just

  vanishes. I've never felt this way about anyone

  and I ... I finally decided I wanted to give

  in to it. To fully experience it. How can I be

  any sort of complete person if I'm not

  willing to go where my ... where my spirit wants

  to take me."

  He brushed back a lock of her hair. "I

  think you have a very beautiful spirit."

  "Why thank you, Lieutenant. It's nice of

  you to notice it. And so do you."

  He paused. "This is going to sound so ... so

  trite, but believe me when I say ... I've

  never felt like this with anyone. More than just

  the physical part ... which was great, don't get

  me wrong," he added hurriedly. "But there was

  ..." He felt tongue-tied. "I really

  don't have ^ws to express it."

  "There are none. There don't have to be."

  "There was ... when we were ..." He cleared his

  throat. "There was a ^w. You thought it at me ...

  at least, I presume it was you. I don't think

  there was anyone else rattling around in there.

  "Imzi"' or something?"

  Now she propped herself up as well and faced

  him fully.

  "Imzadi," she said softly. When she said it,

  there was a musical, loving tone to her voice such

  as he had never heard.

  "That's it. Imzadi. What does that mean?"

  "Well ... it has several meanings. The

  surface level is simply "bbloved"' or

  "dear one."' But when used with certain people, under

  certain circumstances ... well, you need to know the

  further nuance to it to understand its full meaning."

  "So what is its full meaning?"

  She smiled shyly, which was a direct contrast

  to the casualness of her nudity. "It means ... the

  first."

  "The ... the first?" He wasn't sure he had

  heard correctly, or perhaps didn't want to.

  "Yes. No matter what happens from here on

  ... we will always be true Imzadi. We will forever

  be each other's "fst."'"

  She looked up at him with those large, dark

  eyes, and he felt like a total cretin.

  "You mean ... you mean I'm the first man that you

  ... that you ever ..."

  She nodded.

  "Had sex with?" he managed to finish.

  She nodded again.

  "Oh, my God."

  "You seem surprised," she said, looking quite

  amused. "Is it so difficult to believe?"

  "Well, I mean ..." He couldn't

  remember when he'd felt quite this embarrassed.

  "I mean, you're such an open society and all

  ... and you're so gorgeous ..."

  "Thank you," she said demurely.

  "That I'm ... I mea
n, it never occurred

  to me that no man had ever ..."

  "Bagged me?" she asked, her eyes twinkling

  slightly.

  He winced. "That's one term that's

  occasionally used ... although not by me."

  "Oh, of course not. Never by you."

  "And ... um ... look. Deanna. I ...

  I don't know if I said or did anything

  to give you the impression otherwise, but ... but

  you're not my first. I mean ... I've been with

  other women."

  "No, you haven't," she said serenely.

  "Yes, I have. I mean, I was there. I think

  I'd know."

  "Oh, I understand. You mean you've had sex

  before."

  "Well ... well, yes. I thought that's what

  we were talking about."

  "You still don't understand, w. The physical

  part, as pleasurable as it was ... and as exciting as

  it was for me, I must admit ..." She

  hesitated and suddenly looked vulnerable. "Did

  I do all right?"

  "Oh, yes! Yes. You did ... you did

  great. I'd never have known if you hadn't told me

  that ..." He gestured, trying to sum up his

  conflicting feelings.

  "All right, then. But you see ... the concept of

  Imzadi goes beyond the physical. You've had

  other women physically. I know that. And even though

  I haven't had other men before you, that's almost

  incidental. To be Imzadi is to go far deeper

  than that. Don't you understand, W? Other women

  may have had your body"--she smiled--?b I'm the

  first who's ever touched your soul."

  And he realized, with a dim astonishment, that she

  was right. Sex for him had always been directed

  toward the pleasurable aspects. Even when he had

  thought he was in love, it had turned out to be

  purely superficial ... an excuse to add

  some additional excitement to the physical

  gratification.

  Was he in love now? Thoughts were tumbling around

  far too fiercely for him to assimilate fully.

  It was the kind of sensation that he had always wanted

  to avoid. He liked knowing precisely what he

  was doing at all times. He liked being in control.

  But to be in love was to surrender some degree of that

  control, and he had never been willing or able to do

  that.

  And now, here with Deanna Troi, he still

  wasn't sure if he was able. But for the first time in

  his life, he realized that he was genuinely

  willing.

  "Imzadi," he said, and smiled.

  She returned the smile and nodded. "I

  understand."

  He sat up and saw that the sun was setting. It

  hung low, streaks of pink and orange dancing like

  liquid fingers across the Betazed sky.

  "You know," he said slowly, "I've been

  looking at stars in space for so long ... that I

  completely forgot how utterly beautiful a star can

  be when it's setting. And you know what else? Those

  clouds right there"--he pointed--?the way they're

  coming together ... they look like two dragons

  battling."

  "You see conflict in the sky. That's understandable.

  When you launch yourself into space, then to a very large

  degree, it's you against the vacuum."

  "It's like the painting, isn't it."

  "To some degree," she acknowledged. "When you

  look at any sort of tableaux, be it hanging

  on a wall or hanging in the sky ... you see in

  it a reflection of your innermost wants and

  desires. That is, if you look at it in the right

  frame of mind."

  "You want to watch the sunset and wax

  philosophical?"

  "By all means."

  She drew her body next to his and they sat

  there, staring up at the setting sun and seeing in it

  all sorts of aspects of their souls that they had

  never before examined.

  Riker was thoroughly enraptured.

  But after about thirty seconds, Deanna

  turned to him and said, "Right, then. That's enough of that.

  Come here, Imzadi." She pressed against him and

  bore him tenderly to the ground.

  The sun set the rest of the way without them.

  CHAPTER 27

  Riker stared at the paper, shaking his head.

  What could he possibly have been thinking?

  He started to shove it back into the supplies

  belt when he heard Deanna's soft footfall

  behind him. Her unexpectedly fast return from her

  morning ablutions had caught him by surprise.

  As a result he fumbled slightly, and the sheet

  fluttered to the ground.

  Deanna picked it up, staring at it in

  surprise. "Paper. Now here's something you

  don't see every day."

  "Federation security men believe in being

  prepared for any eventuality--even leaving a

  message stuck to a tree. Give it here."

  She looked at him, her head slightly

  tilted. "Will, we've been traveling together through this

  jungle for five days now ... covering distance that

  we could have covered in three days, if we weren't

  always ... interrupting ourselves."

  At that he had to laugh. Deanna's

  enthusiasm and positive lustiness for the newly

  developed physical part of their relationship was

  almost overwhelming. Apparently Deanna Troi

  didn't do things in half measures. When she was

  being cerebral, she was totally cerebral. But now

  that her attention had been drawn to the pleasures

  of the flesh, all of her enthusiasm was directed

  toward exploring all the various possibilities

  and extremes to which such pleasure seeking could be

  taken.

  "We have to watch out for those interruptions,"

  Riker said dryly. Then he reached for the paper again

  and she snatched it away.

  "The point is," she continued, "that even if we

  hadn't been drawn so close through our physical

  activities ... and even if my empathic

  feelings for you weren't so strong ... it would still be

  obvious to me that you've written something on here that

  you're embarrassed about."

  "All right, I agree with that," said Riker

  evenly. "And don't you think that's something that you should

  respect?"

  "You're right. I should." Grinning

  mischievously, she unfolded the paper and started

  to read it.

  Riker moaned softly. "I really wish you

  wouldn't. I wasn't going to show it to you until it

  was finished. Hell, it'll probably never be

  finished. I'm terrible at things like that. I never

  even tried before. It's lousy. I--"

  "Shhh!" She looked up at him with genuine

  irritation on her face. Then she returned

  to reading the paper, her lips moving silently to the

  ^ws.

  Riker made no further attempt

  to interrupt. Instead he made a great show of

  nonchalantly checking his chronometer and

  tricorder, and then no.ing in satisfaction. He

  was, in fact, satisfied. They were late, that

  much was true ... but within an hour they'd b
e at the

  rendezvous point, and from there it was only

  a short ride back to the city.

  He worked up the nerve to look at her. She was

  studying him frankly, her lustrous eyes seeming

  to take in the whole of him. Just as she had taught

  him--and just as he had perfected over the past

  several days--he took in and let out a slow

  breath, clearing his mind with facility.

  This is beautiful, Imzadi, she told

  him.

  He smiled, inwardly and outwardly. Do you

  really like it?

  You'd know if I were lying.

  She studied the paper and read out loud:

  "I hold you close to me.

  Feel the breath of you, and the wonder of you

  And remember a time

  Without you

  But only as one would remember

  A bleak and distant nightmare

  And you shudder against me in your sleep

  Do you share the memory with me of dark times past?

  And you smile

  Do you share the memory of times to come?

  The future holds such promise

  And just as I cannot imagine how I survived the

  past

  Without you

  I cannot imagine a future

  Without you."

  "I don't know," Riker said, trying to keep

  the pride of authorship out of his voice. "I

  thought maybe it was a little syrupy."

  "Oh, you thought no such thing," admonished

  Deanna. "You thought it was a perfect statement of

  how you felt. You were proud of it. In fact, you still

  are."

  He grinned. "I should have known better than

  to try false modesty with an empath."

  "Absolutely right. That will get you nothing

  except embarrassment."

  "Speaking of embarrassment, we better get

  moving. We're already so late that that, in itself, is

  pretty damned embarrassing. Sergeant

  Tang's been in touch with me four times in the past

  two days, just to make sure that I'm still alive."

  "It's nice that he's so concerned about you." She

  folded up the paper and tucked it in her bodice,

  and Riker looked at her in surprise.

  "Aren't you giving it back to me?"

  "Please don't make me. I'd like to keep

  it."

  He sighed. "Only if you promise not to show

  it to anyone."

  "Deal."

  Forcing themselves not to yield to temptation, they went

  the rest of the way without any more impromptu

  interruptions. They held each other's hand

  tightly, their fingers intertwined, and it was only when

  they were within sight of the encampment that they released their