Star Trek-TNG-Novel-Imzadi 1 Read online

  go where I'm not wanted."

  She couldn't resist. "You must not get around

  much, then."

  His eyes narrowed, then slowly he nodded.

  "Fine." He put up his hands. "Fine. Have it

  your way."

  He started to turn away from her; then to his

  surprise she placed a hand lightly on his arm.

  He turned and looked back at her.

  "Tomorrow's terrible for me," she said. "The day

  after. Pick me up around midday, at my home.

  We'll go on a picnic. I'll pack it."

  "I don't want you to feel like you have to do me

  any favors, Miss Troi. I mean, don't

  go to any trouble, or--"

  "Lieutenant, don't push your luck."

  "Midday it is."

  "Good." Then she paused. "Tell me,

  Lieutenant. There are any number of women

  around ... and quite a few might be much more inclined

  to be impressed by your--peculiar--brand of charm

  than I would. Why so interested in me?"

  "Because, I like a challenge."

  "Well, that's splendid. In that case, when you

  come by to pick me up, the two of you will probably

  hit it right off."

  "The two of us?"

  "You and my mother. You see, she likes

  challenges, too." Deanna smirked

  in a way that made Riker extremely

  uncomfortable. "And I have a feeling she's just going

  to adore you."

  CHAPTER 17

  Sergeant Roger Tang, grizzled veteran

  and squad commander of the security unit assigned

  to Betazed, caught a glimpse of Riker as he

  headed for the door. "Lieutenant," he said, and

  snapped to a salute.

  Inwardly, Riker shook his head. Salutes

  hadn't been in style for two centuries now, but

  Tang was retro enough to harken back to those days of

  extreme discipline. Riker waved his hand in

  close approximation of a salute and said, "At

  ease, Sergeant."

  Tang stroked his round, stubbled chin. The large

  phaser he always wore was clipped to his waist and

  slapped against his thick leg. Riker was willing

  to bet he wore it to sleep. "Lovely day today,

  Lieutenant. Where you off to ... if you don't

  mind my asking," he added quickly.

  "Out."

  "Yes, sir, I can see that. The general

  direction of your path would seem to be leading you out

  the door. I was just curious as to where, sir.

  Security reasons. Can't be too careful, you

  know."

  Riker sauntered over to Tang and draped his

  hands behind his back. "If you must know, Sergeant,

  I have a date."

  Tang appeared to consider that for a moment.

  "Local girl, sir?"

  "That's right. A local girl. I tried

  to bring a girl with me from the Fortuna, but she

  didn't fit in my suitcase."

  "Damn shame," commiserated Tang. He

  lowered his voice to confidential tones. "You

  don't mind a piece of advice, sir?"

  Riker shook his head.

  "These people can ruin you."

  At that, Riker blinked. "Pardon?"

  "They're soft. They're pleasant." He

  tapped the side of his head. "They're always

  philosophizing about things, dwelling on things,

  pondering things. They think too damned much, if you

  ask me."

  "Thinking about things is a good habit,

  Sergeant."

  "Oh, of course. But not to the point where it's

  all you do. Not to the point of

  overintellectualizing. They don't fight ...

  they'd rather talk about the reasons for disputes. I

  told one of them that the only thing the Sindareen

  understand is force, and the guy looked at me like I'd

  just dropped down from outer space."

  "Well ... in all fairness ... you did."

  Tang emitted a short laugh that sounded like a

  bark. "Yeah, I suppose I did at that.

  Look, Lieutenant ... all I'm saying

  is, remember who you are. And who they are.

  Getting to know different cultures is fine and

  all that ... but just remember that the galaxy is

  divided into two types."

  "Those being?"

  "Starfleet ... and everyone else." Tang

  put a finger to his lips and then added, "Enough

  said."

  "Thank you, Sergeant."

  Tang tossed off one more salute and said,

  "All part of the service." Then he turned and

  walked off, the phaser continuing to slap comfortingly

  against his thigh.

  Riker stood outside the mansion that was the home

  of Deanna Troi. Impressed by the

  structure, he hesitated a moment before rapping

  on the door.

  He heard no footsteps, but then slowly the

  door opened.

  Riker looked up.

  And up.

  A towering man loomed over him. He didn't

  look precisely Betazoid. He didn't

  look precisely anything. He stared down at

  Riker impassively.

  "I'm Lieutenant Riker. I'm here

  to pick up Deanna Troi." Then Riker

  hesitated. "This is the Troi residence,

  isn't it?"

  The man nodded slowly and stepped back,

  providing space for Riker to enter. He did so,

  looking around the opulent setting in curiosity.

  "Where should I wait?"

  The giant closed the front door, but did not

  answer Riker's question. He studied the looming

  figure, utterly perplexed, and then a voice

  behind him said, "So I see you've met Mr.

  Homn."

  Riker turned and saw an attractive

  woman with long dark brown hair, and a very

  aristocratic bearing. She came sweeping toward

  him in a pink and gray gown that set off her dark

  eyes and rosy-complexioned face. "And you're

  Mrs. Homn?" he asked.

  She laughed lightly. "No, no. I'm

  Deanna's mother."

  He took her extended hand and bowed slightly

  at the waist. "Lt. William Riker. But

  please, feel free to call me w. Or

  William, whichever you prefer. And I should call

  you ...?"

  "Mrs. Troi."

  "Oh." He smiled gamely. "All right,

  Mrs. Troi. Um ... Deanna and I have an

  appointment."

  "Yes, I know." She took him by the arm and

  led him into the spacious living room. "She'll be

  with you in a moment. She's just getting ready ... and

  I thought it would be nice if we had a few

  moments to chat."

  "That sounds very nice."

  He sat down on a couch, sinking

  unexpectedly deeply into the cushions.

  Lwaxana took a seat nearby that bore a

  striking resemblance to a throne. "Now ... tell

  me all about yourself."

  He stroked his chin and said, "Why don't you

  tell me about myself?"

  She chuckled at that. "Oh, that's very good,

  Lieutenant. Instead of voicing statements that you

  know I can puncture, you instead ask me to take

  the first step so that you know what you're in for. All

  right." Suddenly the sound of her voice changed just

&nb
sp; a bit. "You're aggressive, hardworking,

  dedicated, cautious. You're someone who's

  guarded, and so finds himself ill at ease in an

  environment where your only option is forthrightness.

  Oh, and you are extremely attracted to my

  daughter and have had a variety of sexual

  fantasies about her. In fact, you are hoping that

  this outing will be in a romantic enough setting that you can

  employ your considerable charm to break through

  Deanna's defenses and introduce her to the

  full joys of your masculinity. Your preferred

  position for intercourse is--"

  "Mrs. Troiffwas said Riker, more sharply than

  he would have liked.

  "And what's this about lime-flavored

  oil rubs?"

  He got to his feet. "Mrs. Troi, I

  must admit, I'm shocked."

  "ally're shocked?" She looked up at him with

  overwhelming innocence. "Lieutenant, they're

  your thoughts."

  "That may very well be, but it was my understanding that

  Betazoids prided themselves on courtesy. By my

  definition, your treatment of me here is not

  particularly courteous."

  Her expression was stricken. "You're right.

  Where in the world are my manners? I haven't

  offered you anything to drink. Mr. Homnffwas She

  clapped her hands together briskly. "A drink for

  our guest."

  "That's not what I'm referring to. You're

  speaking ... like I'm the enemy."

  "That's your interpretation, Lieutenant. I

  don't think of you as an enemy. No, not at

  all. At most, I think of you as ..." She

  paused, considering. "As an experience. A

  transient, passing experience that Deanna will

  encounter, learn from, and grow from. That's all.

  Enemy is much too strong a ^w. As for the things

  I'm saying, Lieutenant--my assessment of

  your nature and thoughts--y invited me to comment. You

  can hardly take me to task just because I took you

  up on your offer."

  Mr. Homn appeared at Riker's side with a

  drink, balanced perfectly on a gleaming silver

  tray. Riker took it without even really

  noticing.

  "You have to understand, Lieutenant. There are

  certain responsibilities that come with being who I

  am. I am a daughter of the Fifth House.

  Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Riix.

  Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed. I am

  accustomed to speaking my mind, and I am also

  accustomed to watching out for the best interests of my

  daughter. She is an attentive, intelligent

  young lady. She will inherit from me the tremendous

  responsibilities that are presently all on

  my shoulders. Unlike you, whose life in

  Starfleet means that endless vistas are open to you

  ... Deanna does not have that luxury. There are

  certain dictates upon her that come with who she is.

  She accepts that. She welcomes that. I want

  you to be considerate of those dictates. And I

  want you to do nothing that will interfere with her destiny

  or sense of purpose."

  "Nothing meaning ...?"

  "Nothing," said Lwaxana firmly, "meaning

  nothing."

  "Mrs. Troi," Riker said slowly and

  deliberately, "I understand what you're saying.

  I appreciate your position. But with all due

  respect ... you can't give me orders."

  "Quite true," she replied with utter calm.

  "But Starfleet can. And believe me,

  Lieutenant ... if a daughter of the Fifth

  House complains to Starfleet, there will certainly be

  those who listen. Do we understand each other?"

  She gestured that he should take a drink. He

  stared at the contents of the glass andfor just a moment

  tried to see any telltale residue that

  indicated poison.

  "It's perfectly safe, Lieutenant."

  He looked up and once again realized that his

  thoughts were completely open to her.

  "I never seriously thought it wasn't."

  She smiled sweetly.

  Deanna chose that moment to make her entrance.

  Riker felt a flash of disappointment--her long,

  thick hair was tied up in a small, tight

  knot. The lines of her shapely figure were

  hidden under a loose-fitting, caftanlike

  outfit. In front of her she held a small

  basket. "Hello, W," she said genially.

  He got to his feet. "Deanna, you look

  lovely."

  "Aside from the fact that he hates the dress

  and the way you're wearing your hair," said

  Lwaxana.

  Riker fired her a poisonous glance, and

  Deanna said, sounding a bit confused, "Mother ...

  you suggested the hairstyle and dress."

  "Did I?" She smiled disingenuously. "So

  I did. Not too fond of my taste,

  Lieutenant?"

  Gamely, he replied, "It wouldn't matter

  if she shaved her head and wore sackcloth and

  ashes. Deanna would still look lovely."

  Mother and daughter exchanged a glance, and

  Lwaxana looked back to Riker. "Very smooth,

  Lieutenant," she said.

  "Thank you."

  He went to Deanna and gestured toward the

  front door. She continued to clutch the picnic

  basket in both hands, but smiled at her mother as

  they went out.

  Lwaxana did not smile back.

  "I hope she wasn't too hard on you."

  Deanna and Riker were seated up on a

  grassy knoll overlooking a particularly

  lovely stretch of Betazed countryside. The

  picnic basket sat open next to them, the

  contents scattered about the ground around them.

  Much of the time they had eaten in silence. Every so

  often Deanna would look up at Riker and either

  frown or smile. He had the distinct feeling that

  they were having a conversation without a ^w being spoken,

  or for that matter, without him even being fully aware

  of what was being said.

  The statement she had now uttered was just about the

  longest of the afternoon.

  "Nothing I couldn't handle," he said easily.

  When he said that, she laughed in a manner that he

  found very peculiar. "Why did you laugh that way?"

  "Well, it's the way you responded. I

  asked you a question about how something made you feel. And

  your basic response was to make it clear that the

  situation was something within your control."

  He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "So?"

  "So, not everything has to be defined in terms of

  whether you can handle it or not. Sometimes it's enough

  to acknowledge that a situation has occurred and that

  you're aware of it."

  "That doesn't seem like it would accomplish all

  that much."

  "Why not?"

  He lowered himself onto the grass, propping up

  his head with one hand. "Just acknowledging that a situation

  exists is rarely enough in my line of work. You have

  to deal with it."

  "That's not true. What about your Prime

  Directive? Doesn't that tell you that you're not

 
; to get involved?"

  "What it tells us is the preferred way of

  handling a particular type of situation ... namely

  one involving interference with cultural

  development. But it still boils down to the idea that

  every situation must be dealt with in some way ... even

  if occasionally the method of dealing with the situation is

  to keep your hands off."

  "I see." She lifted the napkin off her

  lap and folded it carefully, replacing it in the

  picnic basket. "Is control very important

  for you, Lieutenant?"

  "Not letting things get out of control

  is very important. There's a difference."

  "And what might that be?"

  "The difference is that you can have a specific

  situation with specific parameters ... and as long

  as the elements within that situation don't go beyond those

  parameters, then everything is fine. You don't have

  to do much beyond sitting back and letting things run their

  course. This is as opposed to having to be in

  control, where you are handling every element personally every

  step of the way. It's a bad way to command. Shows

  a lack of ability to delegate."

  She cocked her head slightly. "Do you think

  of everything in terms of Starfleet?"

  "Not everything."

  They looked at each other for a long moment, and

  Riker saw something in her eyes ... something that

  beckoned to him.

  He reached across, grabbed her by the arm, and

  pulled her to him. She fell to the ground with a

  startled cry of exclamation. For a moment he felt

  her body go limp against him, and he brought her

  face to his, pressed his mouth against hers. He

  felt something electric pass between them ...

  And then he felt her knee in the pit of his

  stomach.

  Riker gasped and rolled away, clutching his

  belly and moaning softly. He came up,

  gasping, and saw Deanna smoothing out her dress

  and looking utterly composed.

  He sucked in air gratefully and tried

  to force the pain to go away. Deanna, for her part,

  reached into the basket and pulled out a brown

  pastry. "Dessert?" she asked innocently.

  "Wh ... why did you do that?" he managed

  to get out.

  "Will, why are you asking obvious questions?" She

  held out the pastry to him. "I mean, I'm not

  asking you why you mauled me just now. I think it's

  fairly self-evident. I think my reason for

  stopping you is equally self-evident. So tell

  me ... do you still feel in control?"

  "Not ... particularly." The soreness was just