sign. Clearly, Riker thought, the counselor's
ability to charm people was not limited solely to Riker
himself.
By the end of the dinner, everyone seemed in high
spirits. It was as upbeat a beginning as anyone could have
hoped.
Still, Riker and Picard managed to sidle up
to Deanna during a leisurely time afterward, when the
delegates had broken up into smaller groups and
were chatting informally with each other. The full
meetings were scheduled to begin the next day.
"Any feeling on the Sindareen?" Picard
asked in a low voice. He kept his smile
firmly fixed in place, though, and even nodded in
the direction of Nici when she glanced at him from
a corner of the room.
"On a surface level, Captain, their
motives seem to be precisely what they say
they are: they want peace."
"Any agenda beyond that?" Riker said.
Deanna paused, giving the question full weight.
"I cannot say for sure. As I told you,
Captain--and as Commander Riker knows--the
Sindareen can be a challenge to read. Through continued
exposure, however, as I gain a feeling for the
individual's psyche, I might be able to tell
you more."
"You'll do your best, I'm certain,
Counselor," said Picard. "At least we're
off on the right foot."
A hand rested on Deanna's shoulder and she
turned to look into Dann's smiling face. "Are
you about finished here, Deanna?" he asked, and then
looked to Picard and Riker. "Sorry,
gentlemen ... I didn't mean to interrupt."
"That's all right, Dann," said Deanna.
"We were finished." Then she looked to Picard for
confirmation. "Weren't we, Captain?"
"By all means." But Picard's eyes narrowed
slightly, and he watched as Dann led Deanna
out of the room, an arm around her waist in a most
familiar fashion. Deanna was laughing lightly
at some comment he had just whispered to her.
Picard turned to Riker and noted that the
muscles of his jaw were working under his cheeks.
"Problem, Number One?"
"No problem, Captain," said Riker
neutrally.
Picard took a step closer to his
second-in-command and observed, "She seems rather
friendly with him. That's not going to present a
difficulty for you, is it, Number One?"
Riker regarded Picard with an arched eyebrow.
"I already said there's no problem, Captain. I
hope you don't think I'm lying to you."
"Number One, never in a million years would
I believe that you would lie to me."
"Thank you, sir."
Picard paused only a moment before he added,
"However ... lying to yourself would be another matter
entirely."
Riker had been turning away, but now he
looked back at Picard with some surprise.
"Deanna's happiness is my happiness,"
Riker said firmly, and then deciding that his tone
sounded just a bit too aggressive for a statement
directed to his commanding officer, quickly added a
respectful, "Sir."
Picard nodded slightly. "A very commendable and
adult attitude, Number One. If you are
satisfied with the situation, then I certainly am--
especially seeing as it isn't any of my
business."
"As you say, sir."
One of the Byfrexians came up at that moment
and engaged Picard in a discussion of Prime
Directive ethics that had been a bone of
contention in a seminar the ambassador had taught.
Riker listened for a few moments before drifting over
to Nici and striking up a polite and, he hoped,
informative conversation with her.
But his gaze kept shifting over to the doors of the
banquet room--the doors through which Counselor
Troi had exited moments earlier with Dann. And
Riker had taken note not only of the arm around her
waist but also that Deanna had placed a hand over
his as if she wanted to make sure he didn't
remove that arm.
"I'm happy for you," he said to no one in
particular.
CHAPTER 10
Riker lay on his back, staring up into the
darkness of his quarters.
His hands were interlaced behind his head, the pillow
soft under him. He had been that way for over an
hour as sleep refused to come.
Sorting out his feelings was rapidly becoming
something of a royal pain. He still remembered that time
a couple of years ago, in Deanna's quarters
... Both he and Deanna had been in an
extremely mellow mood, and he had also been
allowing the more relaxing qualities of the Synthehol
he'd consumed to have sway over his actions. A
friendly good-night kiss had turned into something far more
passionate, andfora moment they had been kissing each
other eagerly, hungrily, and it had been just like the
old days.
And then Deanna had whispered, pleaded,
telling him that they shouldn't, reminding him
of the difficulties of involvement while both
served on the same ship. Yet even as she
spoke, she would have let him ...
But he pulled back. Her ^ws had
penetrated the Syntheholic haze on his brain and
washed it away, bringing with it instant sobriety
and a reminder of the line that they had drawn for themselves.
And nothing had happened.
Not that he hadn't wanted it ... they had both
wanted it ...
But what had they wanted? Momentary
gratification? Or something more ... a rekindling of
something that they had thought they'd left behind them?
Perhaps they'd been kidding themselves. Here he was
someone accustomed to command situations, and here she was
someone who was always in touch with feelings. So it was
only natural that they would decide they could
control their feelings, dictate their relationship.
Turn their emotions on and off like an old-style
light switch.
How realistic was that, though? Lying there in the
darkness, imagining Deanna at that moment,
wrapped in the arms of Dann, laughing or saying
things softly ...
Did she say the same things to Dann that she
had to Riker?
For a moment there he had actually been drifting
off, his feelings about Deanna lulling his brain and
convincing him that everything would seem more clear in the
morning. And then something, some impulse, made him
sit bolt upright in bed, moving so swiftly that
he had a momentary sense of disorientation.
Someone was there. He didn't know how, he
didn't know why ... but someone was there, hiding in a
corner, lurking in the darkness.
He called out, "Lights!"
Obediently his quarters filled with light. And
there he saw--
Nothing.
The doors had not opened. No one had entered.
Except for himself, no one was there.
>
He had no way of describing the feeling that was
cutting through him. What was the old saying?
Someone just stepped on my grave.
"Hello?" said Riker tentatively, not
having the faintest idea why he was saying it.
The ship's computer, aware that the room was
unoccupied except for Riker, interpreted the
salutation as an oddly variant, but no less
legitimate, means of address to itself.
"Working," replied the computer. It then waited
patiently for further instructions.
He didn't know why he was asking, but he said,
"Computer--who's in this room?"
"William Thelonius Riker."
"Anyone else?"
"No."
Slowly he nodded. "Lights off," he said
after a moment.
He lay back down as the lights faded,
wondering whether he wasn't making himself a little
crazy over the situation.
At first he felt wide-awake, but then
gradually the fatigue settled in, and slowly,
gradually, he drifted off to sleep.
She filled his dreams. She was smiling at
him, walking toward him, her arms outstretched, and
somehow everything seemed to make so much more sense when
she was there. Without her, there was no--
"IMZADI!"
The ^w screamed in his mind, throughout every part of his
body, and he snapped to full wakefulness in a
split instant. He didn't know how much time had
passed since he had fallen back to sleep, and
it didn't matter.
All that mattered was the voice, was the ^w, and it
had been unmistakably no dream.
Definitely, it was Deanna, and whatever was
happening, it was utterly terrifying to her.
"Deanna!" shouted Riker.
The computer said helpfully, "William
Thelonius Riker is the only occupant of--"
"Shut up! Lightsffwas
The lights immediately snapped on. He winced
against it momentarily, but it didn't slow him as he
ran to his closet and grabbed his robe. "Riker
to Counselor Troiffwas he called out in the more
recognizable comm command that would, ordinarily, patch
him through the ship's intercom to Deanna.
There was no response. She wasn't
acknowledging--but he could still feel that cold, dark
terror invading him. Whatever was happening, she was
replying in a far more primal manner than via a
ship's communication system.
Immediately switching gears as he yanked on his
robe, he said, "Riker to Dr. Crusherffwas
This time there was a response. Beverly sounded
groggy--obviously he'd woken her up. But there
was no hesitation to her voice because late-night
interruptions were hardly unusual in her
line of work. "Crusher here."
"Something's wrong with Deanna! Get a
medunit to her quarters now!"
To her credit, Beverly Crusher wasted no time
with confused questions such as "How do you know?" or "Why
didn't you call sickbay directly?" To the
latter question, she obviously, and correctly,
reasoned that Riker had instinctively contacted the
person he most trusted in a medical emergency.
To the former question, when it came to matters of Riker
and Troi, she was more than willing to accept a great
deal on faith.
All she said was a stark "Acknowledged."
Riker didn't even hear her reply. He was
already out the door.
He barreled down the corridor, attracting
curious glances from passersby due to his state
of extremely casual dress that contrasted with his
air of barely controlled panic. Ensign
Chafin had the poor luck to turn a corner without
watching where he was going, which was directly
into Riker's path, and Riker plowed into him like a
linebacker. Chafin went flying and smacked into the
far wall. Riker barely lost a step and kept
on going, not even registering until sometime later
that he had decked a crewman without so much as a
^w of apology.
Deanna's quarters were just ahead and he raced
into them, heedless of his safety. After all, he had
no idea what threat Deanna might be
subjected to--for all he knew, berserk
Sindareen were skinning her alive and were ready
to turn on him next. Nothing mattered except
helping her.
He entered her quarters and was horrified by the
sight that greeted his eyes.
Deanna was lying on the floor, convulsions
shaking her. She was nude except for a sheet that
had been tossed over her, like a shroud. Dann was
standing over her, having pulled on trousers, but
otherwise looking confused and helpless.
"Deanna!" shouted Riker.
Dann looked at him, and his skin had gone a
shade or two lighter. "I ... I don't know
what happened! She just--"
"Why the hell didn't you summon help!"
shouted Riker.
"I don't know how!" said Dann. "I've
never been on a starship before! Is there something I
press or--"
Riker shoved him aside, unnecessarily
hard, and called out desperately, "Riker
to sickbay! Where the hell's that medunit!" He
didn't even wait for a reply as he dropped
down next to the trembling counselor.
Her skin was dead white. He took her hand in
his and it was clammy. His hands moved helplessly
over her, and he fought down his terror as he said,
"Shh ... everything's going to be okay. It's
okay, Deanna."
Her eyes were clouding over. He didn't even
think she could see him. He had no idea what was
happening to her, and even more terrifying ... neither
did she.
"Imzadi," she whispered, voicing the ^w that
had lanced through his mind and soul. "Please ...
help me ... help."
He scooped her up into his arms urgently and
was out the door, heading toward the sickbay. He was
by nature a strong man, and now, driven
by adrenaline and fear, he was so worked up that he
hardly even felt her weight. He kept
whispering to her, talking frantically, as if
afraid that the only thing keeping her attached to the
world was the sound of his voice.
He encountered the medunit partway. Beverly
Crusher had not even bothered to toss on a robe
--in her nightgown, she was guiding the techs with the
antigrav crash cart. "Quickly! Quicklyffwas
Deanna's hand still gripped Riker's robe as
he laid her down on the cart and ran alongside
it. And again, she said, "Help me ... please
... so cold ..." Her body was shaking faster.
"Stabilize her!" shouted Crusher, and Dr.
Selar, who had been on duty when the call
came in, jammed a hypo into her arm.
"I'll help you," Riker told Deanna,
and the fear that ran through her leaped into him and clamped
around his heart. He felt as if his world were
disintegrating. "I promise, Imzadi
. I'll
do anything ... everything. I ..."
But she didn't hear him.
Her breath rattled once more in her chest ...
and by the time she was rolled into sickbay mere moments
later ...
... she was gone.
Thousands of light-years away, Lwaxana
Troi woke up. And she began screaming.
She did not stop for two solid
hours.
She was never the same after that.
EPILOGUE
Admiral Riker stared at Captain
Crusher, who was stony faced. "Your mother blamed
herself for quite some time afws," Riker said. "It was so
unnec ... she did everything she could. She worked
on Deanna for ... I don't know ... it
seemed forever, trying to bring her back. But nothing
helped. Nothing ... helped." And he added
silently, Not even me.
"She blamed herself but she didn't have to, that's
what you're saying?" asked Captain Crusher.
"That's right."
Wesley stared out at the rain, which had tapered
off to a mere trickle. Within a minute or two,
it would stop alt. "And I guess another reason
it wasn't necessary ... was that you pretty much had a
lock on the self-blame category."
Riker nodded slowly. "I guess the difference
is that your mother did everything she could ... and
didn't succeed. And I kept feeling as if
... as if I should have done something. Somehow,
someway ... I should have done more. And it was always a
great frustration to me that I never figured out what
that more should have been. All I knew is that I
promised to help her ... and I
didn't do much except be by her side when she
died."
"Maybe that was all she wanted."
Riker said nothing.
Crusher considered a moment and then said, "And
Mom never found the cause?"
"Never," said Riker, shaking his head. "That's
the most agonizing thing about a situation like that. You
find yourself wanting answers, some sort of
answers. And there were none to be had. Beverly
couldn't find any cause for Deanna's ...
passing. It was just as if her body simply ...
stopped. Massive cardiovascular collapse,
but there seemed no physiological reason for it.
Beverly ran a full trace of all known
foreign substances, for the purpose of ruling out foul
play--which was pretty farfetched, but your mom
covered all the bases--and there was nothing.
Deanna just ..." He struggled with the ^w and then
exhaled it: "Died." He paused.