Headlong Flight Page 5

  The communication ended before Riker could say anything, leaving him staring at the Federation seal on the screen.

  “And a pleasant day to you too.” Tapping the control to deactivate the terminal, Riker spun his chair until he faced Troi, then offered what she could tell was a forced smile. “Hello.”

  “You knew I was back here?” she asked, crossing the room in her bare feet.

  Riker replied, “I don’t need to be a telepath, or even an empath, to know where you are. Besides, you bumped the table on your way out of the bedroom.” His smile faded as he held out his hand to her. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  Taking his hand in hers, Troi allowed him to pull her toward him. “I was already awake,” she said. “I heard the call from the bridge.”

  “He said it was urgent.” Rolling his eyes, Riker shook his head. “Everything’s urgent with him.” Gesturing to the computer, he released an annoyed grunt. “Of course, he’s had our preliminary report for at least three hours now, but he waits until after midnight, ship’s time, to make that urgent call. He never passes up a chance to remind whoever he’s talking to that he’s the one in charge.”

  Based on what she could read from him, Troi guessed that fatigue was perhaps more to blame for Riker’s comments than genuine aggravation. “You shouldn’t let him bother you so much.”

  “He’s never liked me,” replied Riker. Releasing her hand, he pushed himself from the chair and crossed to the replicator set into the room’s starboard bulkhead. “Not from the minute I was named captain of the Enterprise. Everybody knew that he wanted it, but Starfleet Command gave her to me.” Troi waited in silence as he ordered water and a crystal glass materialized on the unit’s receiving platform. He drained the glass’s contents in one go.

  “Do you really believe that?” she asked once he had returned the glass to the replicator. It was easy now to read the feelings of resentment welling up within him, even though he was doing his best to keep them at bay.

  Stepping away from the replicator, Riker moved to stand before the viewing ports. He folded his arms, staring at the distant stars. From where she stood, Troi was able to make out part of the Spindrift Nebula off the ship’s starboard bow.

  “He never told me to my face, if that’s what you mean,” said Riker after a moment, “but you probably heard the same rumors I did.”

  She had indeed been privy to gossip and unsubstantiated claptrap that had circulated in the immediate after­math of the Borg attack and while the Enterprise had been assigned to Earth Station McKinley to undergo repairs. Much of the talk revolved around whether Riker, who had already received a promotion and operational command of the starship for the duration of the Borg crisis, would retain the posting or if the prestigious billet of commanding the Federation flagship would be given to another, perhaps more experienced officer. Troi had even been aware of several officers, including Edward Jellico, being considered for the posting. Jellico, at the time in command of the U.S.S. Cairo, was believed to have been a leading contender, at least until a small group of senior leaders at Starfleet Command, led by Admiral Alynna Nechayev, put forth their recommendation that Riker be permanently assigned as captain of the Enterprise. His noteworthy career and accomplishments to that point had been a prime deciding factor, up to and including his actions against the Borg vessel that had come within moments of destroying or assimilating the people of Earth. Further, the three years Riker had spent under the direct mentorship of Jean-Luc Picard, Starfleet legend and the vessel’s original captain, saw to it that no other command-grade officer in the fleet was better prepared to take the center seat of the Galaxy-class starship.

  “You know he wasn’t even due for promotion,” said Riker. “Word is that Starfleet Command bumped him up to admiral as a consolation prize.” He shrugged. “Naturally, nobody’s admitting that, either.”

  Troi said, “He’s one of the few people who can do the job he was given, Will. He has a grasp of tactics that is rare even among Starfleet leadership. Working with people like Commander Shelby and developing long-term defensive plans is perfect for him. Starfleet couldn’t do much better than having Admiral Jellico, and right now that’s where he’s most needed.”

  His gaze not shifting from the windows, Riker replied, “But Starfleet also needs good captains, and there’s no arguing he was one of the best.”

  “And so are you.” Troi reached out and put a hand on his arm, prodding him to turn toward her. “Do you honestly think Starfleet would’ve entrusted you with the Enterprise if they didn’t think you were ready for the responsibility? In case you’ve forgotten, they’d already offered you your own command three times. You were considering the Melbourne before the Borg attacked, and you’ve been captain of this ship for months.” She studied his face, noting the doubt behind his eyes and clouding his emotions. “Why this sudden uncertainty? Because of Jellico?”

  Riker shook his head, moving to the low-rise couch positioned before the windows. “Not Jellico,” he said as he took a seat. “At least, not just Jellico. Ever since the orders came through, and with every assignment we’ve been given, I’ve had this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I’m being . . . I don’t know. Tested, somehow. Evaluated, like Starfleet Command doesn’t fully trust me.”

  He forced another smile, this one accompanied by a small, humorless chuckle. “All that time we were at McKinley undergoing repairs, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being scrutinized. And after? Look at the assignments we got.”

  Though she was reluctant to admit it aloud, Troi understood what he meant. Upon completing its refit at Earth Station McKinley and returning to active status, the Enterprise and its crew quickly found themselves undertaking tasks that could be described in polite terms as “mundane.” With few exceptions, those assignments had kept the starship well within Federation borders, often less than a day’s travel from Earth. At the time, Troi confessed to thinking little of it, given the numerous demands for Starfleet resources and the need to pitch in wherever assistance was needed as the fleet worked to overcome the loss of nearly forty starships to the Borg at the Battle of Wolf 359. Only later had she begun to hear the first rumors of Starfleet Command deliberately keeping the Enterprise on a short leash. Was the top leadership conducting a very unsubtle review of Riker’s ability to occupy the captain’s chair, succeeding a man he had admired not just as a commanding officer but also a mentor and friend?

  “I know you’ve been feeling uncertain for some time now.” Troi moved to sit next to him. “If it makes you feel better, you hide it rather well, except from me, but it’s there.”

  This time, Riker’s smile was genuine. “I never could fool you. Not for a minute.”

  “Why haven’t you mentioned any of this before?”

  Riker frowned. “To be honest? I was a little embarrassed by the whole idea. Not just the thought of having a spotlight on me, but my reaction to it.” He tapped his chest. “I know I’m not some wide-eyed cadet fresh out of the Academy. And I know I’ve had a solid career to this point. Have I made some mistakes? Absolutely. A few were downright stupid, and there’s probably one or two I hope nobody ever finds out about, but otherwise? I don’t need someone else’s validation. I’m comfortable with who and what I am.”

  “But . . . ?” replied Troi, after a moment when he said nothing else. She let the rest of the unspoken question hang in the air between them.

  “Yeah.” Riker cleared his throat. “But, let’s be honest: Jean-Luc Picard set the standard for commanding this ship. He casts a long shadow, and deservedly so. I learned more from three years serving with him than I did the rest of my career. If I’m worried about anything, it’s not living up to the example he set, or giving ­anyone—especially Jellico—a minute’s doubt that his trust in me was misplaced. I can deal with everything else, but that?” He shook his head. “I’d never forgive myself, and I think others feel the same w
ay.”

  It was the first time he had mentioned any of this to Troi, and his emotional unrest was palpable. It washed over her own senses like water lapping at a lake’s edge. She also read his attempts to control or even dismiss those troubling feelings, though whether that attempt was for her sole benefit or his own she could not tell.

  “I think you’re being unfair to yourself,” she said after they sat in silence long enough that she could feel him relaxing. “First, there are people at Starfleet Command who believe in you and have full faith in your ability to command this ship. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have lobbied for you. We’re talking about the Enterprise, Will. There’s too much history and prestige attached to the name for it to be just given to anyone. It has to be someone who’s earned that opportunity, and who can be trusted to represent Starfleet and the Federation to an entire galaxy. You are that person, Will Riker. Don’t ever forget it.”

  Riker offered another uncertain smile. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

  Ignoring his attempt at humor, Troi pressed, “Then there’s the crew. Every single one of them elected to remain aboard after our refit. They had opportunities to transfer to other ships or assignments, and they chose to stay here, with you as their captain. I can’t think of a more convincing display of commitment than that.”

  “You’re right,” replied Riker, and when he said it Troi read the conviction behind the words. “On that, you are absolutely right. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I doubted that, even for a second.” He rubbed his forehead. “I can be an idiot sometimes.”

  Troi shifted her position on the couch so that she could lean against him and lay her head on his shoulder. “Yes, you can.”

  The comment elicited the desired response, and Riker laughed for the first time. It was a genuine laugh as he slipped his arm around her.

  “There’s something else,” he said. “I never did thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Sticking with me.” Riker used his free hand to indicate the room around them. “I was never happier than when we were together, and it was a mistake for me to leave you on Betazed.”

  Troi laid a hand on his thigh. “You did what you had to do at that point in your life. Your entire career was still ahead of you. I never faulted you for that.”

  “I’m just glad we had a chance to correct that mistake.” Riker laid his hand atop hers. “Having you here with me, I mean here, with me, means more to me than anything.”

  Moving in with him was a decision Troi had not under­taken lightly. Their past history notwithstanding, she had wrestled with how the crew might perceive their relationship. As ship’s counselor, she was responsible for the well-being of everyone aboard, be they crew or the spouses, partners, and children of those who had chosen to bring their families on what was to be the Enterprise’s long-duration assignment far from home.

  Despite her misgivings, there was no denying that they each enjoyed the other’s company. Their first night together, a few weeks after the ship had been returned to active status with a mission to ferry Federation diplomats to a conference on Pacifica, had brought back all the passion and vivacity they had enjoyed during their relationship on Betazed. It was as though no time had passed, leading them both to wonder what they had been thinking by electing to maintain a respectful “distance” from each other upon learning they would be serving together on the Enterprise under Captain Picard. Thinking back on it, Troi conceded that reluctance had been silly and a waste of time. Once they navigated that initial hurdle, it was as though they had never been apart.

  Will we stay together this time?

  It was a question Troi had kept to herself, not wanting to dwell on past decisions and feelings. Though she had been heartbroken at his departure all those years ago on Betazed, she had known from the beginning that William Riker would always be a man driven by his ultimate goal of one day commanding a starship. Even though he had expressed his own doubts after being offered command of the U.S.S. Melbourne just prior to the Borg ­attack—worries that he had somehow become complacent or even “comfortable” during his tenure aboard the Enterprise—she knew that his true nature would ultimately assert itself, with that passion to excel unable to be denied.

  Would he have taken another starship command if Picard had survived? Riker had never offered any thoughts on that subject, and Troi had not asked, and it was no longer relevant. What mattered was that Will Riker now commanded the vessel that carried with it the most honored name and legacy in Starfleet. Was he up to the task?

  Yes, Imzadi. Absolutely.

  And what of her and Riker? Troi knew only time would tell, but for now she was happy. He was happy, and they were happy together.

  That was good enough.

  The soft, melodic tones of the ship’s intraship disturbed their relaxed silence, followed by the voice of the ship’s first officer.

  “Data to Captain Riker.”

  Troi shifted her position on the couch as Riker straightened his posture, likely by reflex.

  “Riker here.”

  “I apologize for disturbing you, sir, but you asked to be informed when Commander La Forge and I completed our modifications and launched the sensor probes. All six are away and proceeding to their programmed coordinates to begin their sweeps.”

  Nodding, Riker replied, “Excellent work, Mister Data. How long until we have any useful information sent back to us?”

  “The probes will begin transmitting as soon as they reach their intended starting points and commence their individual surveys, but it will likely be several hours before I have anything comprehensive to report to you.” After a brief pause, the android added, “Unless we find the planet sooner, of course.”

  “Of course,” echoed Riker. “Keep me informed. I’ll be on the bridge no later than oh-six-hundred hours.”

  “Understood, sir. Data out.”

  The communication ended, and Troi used that opportunity to lean back on the couch and against Riker. “Oh-six-hundred hours? That’s quite a while.” She allowed a bit of teasing to creep into her voice. “How are you planning to pass the time?”

  “I was thinking I might try to get some sleep,” replied Riker, but his expression told her he knew he was only playing his part in her little impromptu game.

  “Think again.”

  6

  HERE

  T’Ryssa Chen shifted in her seat, trying to adjust the leg of her environmental suit. Was it too short? Had she somehow gotten a suit that was too small for her? That should not be possible, she decided. There was no way the Enterprise computer would have made such an obvious error.

  Maybe you’re just nervous. Quit fretting.

  “You okay?”

  Looking up from where she had continued to fuss with her suit, Chen stared through her helmet’s transparent faceplate and saw the Enterprise’s deputy security chief, Lieutenant Rennan Konya, regarding her with no small amount of amusement.

  “I’m fine, I guess.” Deciding that the suit fit her as intended, she straightened her leg and twisted her foot until she felt the material shift around her lower leg. A glance to the control pad on her left wrist told her that her antics had not compromised her suit’s internal pressure.

  Satisfied—for the moment, at least—she made a show of looking around the interior of the shuttlecraft Spinrad’s passenger compartment. “You, me, environmental suits, and a shuttlecraft. Is it just me, or is this becoming something of a habit?”

  Konya directed his eyes toward the compartment’s overhead as though giving serious thought to the question. “Now that you mention it, you do seem to keep coming up with excuses to get me into enclosed spaces with you.”

  Sitting next to Konya, Lieutenant Kirsten Cruzen said, “If you two are going to be like this the whole time, I’m walking the rest of the way.” Another member of the ship’s securi
ty detachment, she had volunteered to accompany Konya on the away mission. A very dependable officer, and far tougher than her appearance might imply, Chen had liked Cruzen from early on, and the two had worked together on previous away missions. They had even saved each other’s lives, which tended to do wonders for strengthening the bonds of friendship.

  So, we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.

  “That’d be a neat trick,” said Chen, nodding toward the shuttlecraft’s rear pressure hatch. “That first step is a real attention-getter.”

  Cruzen shifted in her seat. “It’ll be worth it, for the peace and quiet.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” offered Konya. “How’s that old saying go? In space, no one can hear you—”

  The rest of the lieutenant’s comment was lost as the Spinrad shuddered around them. Internal lighting flickered, and Chen noticed a momentary warbling in the shuttlecraft’s engines before their omnipresent hum returned to its normal pitch and the illumination steadied.

  “Hello,” said Cruzen.

  Seated in front of them in the compact vessel’s cockpit, Lieutenant Commander Taurik turned in his seat so that he could look over his shoulder. “My apologies for the disruption. We appear to be encountering a form of electromagnetic interference.”

  “I’m starting to wonder if this was such a great idea,” said Chen.

  To Taurik’s left, Worf added, “We are attempting to compensate, but you should be prepared for the turbulence to continue.”

  With quantum fluctuations continuing to emanate from the mysterious planet, coupled with the interference coming from the NGC 8541 nebula, the use of transporters had been ruled out. Commander La Forge and his team of engineers were working on methods to compensate for those difficulties, but it would be a time-consuming process. To that end, La Forge had elected to remain on the Enterprise, sending Taurik in his stead.

  “It is possible that I erred when opting to eat before our departure,” said Doctor Tropp. Sitting to Chen’s left, the Denobulan’s complexion looked pale behind his helmet’s faceplate, and she noted that he was holding one hand to his midsection.