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 that 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 comer, lurking in the darkness.

He called out, "Li-"

But he didn't get the word out.

A hand clamped over his mouth and shoved him back down onto the bed.

Riker struggled fiercely, shoving at the arm that held him down. He reached upward, grabbing at his a.s.sailant's face, feeling skin that was like parchment and a bristling beard.

And then a voice said, "Lights!"

Riker froze. Because the voice sounded insanely familiar.

The lights came up on command. He blinked against the sudden brightness and the voice amended, "Half lights." They dimmed 50 percent, and now Riker could make out the features of the intruder.

The hair and beard were thick and gray. The skin was wrinkled and timeworn. But the eyes burned fiercely with determination, and the face... the face was unmistakable. He was looking up at himself... except he was decades older.

"Shut up!" hissed the cider Riker. "We haven't much time."

Riker's eyes were wide with stupefaction. For one moment he thought he might still he sleeping, and he started to struggle again, tried to shout over the hand that was clamped on his mouth.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" snarled the old man. "Shut up, you idiot! They may be here to try and stop me at any moment! So lie still! Listen to me, and be prepared to do exactly what I tell you. Deanna's life hangs on what you do next."

CHAPTER 34.

The curator of the Betazed national archives shook hands with Admiral Riker and bowed slightly in acknowledgment. "Your donation of Lwaxana Troi's effects will be quite a boon to our collection, Admiral."

Riker smiled indifferently. "I'm glad I could he of service, sir. And now... if you'll excuse me, I believe that my transport back home is here."

"Ah, yes," said the curator. "I understand the Enterprise herself has come to get you."

"Just happenstance." Riker smiled evenly. "It was the closest ship. It's not as if I'm anyone particularly important."

"Oh, now, Admiral, let's not sell ourselves short. Some of us still remember your handling of the Sindareen raiders all those years ago. They stayed well clear of Betazed after that." The curator frowned. "Although it's a pity... they've become much more aggressive in the last decade or so. My understanding is that they've resumed many of their warlike ways. Truly a shame."

"Yes," agreed Riker, at this point anxious to just get out of there. He felt as if he would say just about anything to escape.

At that moment the air hummed a few feet away with a familiar sound, and Riker grinned openly. It was rare that he smiled these days, but when he did, it was genuine.

"Commodore Data," he said evenly. "It's a pleasure to see you again. You haven't aged a day."

Data c.o.c.ked his head slightly. "Why would I, Admiral?"

Riker chuckled silently. "You may have gotten the hang of a lot of things since I first met you, Data, but humor still eludes you. Comforting to know some things don't change."

"I'm sure it is." Data turned and indicated his second officer. "You remember my science officer, Lieutenant Blair."

"Yes, of course," said Riker, and shook Blair's large, furred hand. "Well, gentlemen... shall we get going?"

"Whatever you say, Admiral... if you're done here, that is."

Riker looked at the curator questioningly.

"As far as I'm concerned, Admiral, we're finished. Oh," the curator added as an afterthought, "a woman stopped by... Wendy, I believe she said her name was... and said that you should stop by and say good-bye before you leave."

"We can wait if you wish, Admiral," offered Data.

But Riker just shook his head. "No," he said softly, and the general melancholy that routinely hovered over him these days enveloped him once more. "No, I've never been particularly good at saying good-bye on this planet."

Data didn't pretend to understand. He merely tilted his head and said, "Enterprise. Three to beam up." And a moment later, with a crackle of blue energy, they were gone.

When Riker first set foot on the ship that bore the name of that vessel he'd once served aboard, he felt a rush of pleasure. But it was quickly borne away by the realization that this wasn't really that Enterprise... that there would never be another one like it. It had been a unique, special time in his life, and... he realized bleakly... probably the high point. Certainly nothing since then had come close to approaching the pure joy and wonder that that particular a.s.signment had given him.

He was more than happy to inspect the ship, examine all the various new and exciting wrinkles that had been added. Ultimately, though, once all that had been done, he was more than content to sit in his cabin, alone and comfortable with the loneliness to which he'd grown so accustomed.

It was in this state that Data found him when he came to inform Riker that they would be arriving shortly at Starbase 86.

"Thank you, Data," Riker said simply upon being given the news. He went back to staring out the viewport.

"You seem to be preoccupied, Admiral," observed Data.

"I'm watching the stars." Riker smiled thinly. "Did you know, some people believe that whatever happens to us is decided by the stars. That we have no control over our fates. I think Shakespeare even wrote that 'the fault is in the stars'."

"Actually, Admiral, that is incorrect."

"You're going to tell me that it's ridiculous to believe that interstellar phenomenon could possibly have any sort of effect on the affairs of men?"

"No, sir. That's so self-evident it's not even worth pointing out. No, I was simply going to tell you that your endeavor to quote Shakespeare was not only imprecise, but in fact wildly wrong."

"How wildly?"

"If you're quoting the pa.s.sage I believe-namely Julius Caesar, act one, scene two-then you have reversed it. The proper line is, 'Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings'."

"Really? Huh." Riker thought about that a moment. "h.e.l.l of a thing to screw up. Who said it?"

"Shakespeare, sir. You were correct about that."

"No, I mean, who in the play?"

"Ca.s.sius, in conversation with Brutus. Two of the conspirators who a.s.sa.s.sinate Julius Caesar."

"Hmm. Ironic, isn't it, Data? Men who try to decide they're going to take their fate into their own hands... and the only way to do that is to try and kill a man whom they admire."

"It has always been a great puzzle to me how people can do utterly immoral things in the name of morality. Certainly the philosophy of guiding your own fate is a laudable one. But how can anyone applaud the notion of murder?"

"Sometimes, Data... you do what you have to do. You just make a decision that something has to be done and d.a.m.n the consequences."

Riker said nothing further, and even though Data simply stood there, watching him, Riker didn't feel any need to comment. "My standing immobile in this manner once bothered Captain Picard greatly," Data said after a time.

"Did it?" Riker shrugged. "Data, you'll find that nowadays, there's very little that bothers me."

"Is it because of Deanna Troi?"

Riker turned and looked up at him. "Ancient history, Data," he said in a hollow voice. "Very ancient."

Data seemed pensive, which was most unusual for him. "I am aware of something, Admiral, that-if you take it in the proper frame of mind-might serve to put much of your long-standing frustration to rest."

"Really?" Riker was more amused than anything else. "And what precisely do you know, Data?"

Data paused, and his next words were the last that Riker could possibly have expected.

"What would you say, Admiral, if I informed you that... somewhere... Deanna Troi is still alive."

The statement hung there for a moment, untouched. And then, to Data's surprise, Riker actually smiled again. "Data, you're turning philosopher on me."

"I am, sir?"

"You're about to tell me that Deanna lives on in our hearts and minds and memories, right?"

"No, sir. She lives on in an alternative time line."

Riker's smile was frozen, but the rest of his expression was an utter blank. Finally he said, "Data, what in h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

Data sat down across from Riker, endeavoring to select the method of explanation that would be simplest for Riker to follow.

"Our stop right before Betazed," began Data, "was at the world of the Guardian of Forever. You're familiar with it?"

"Of course," said Riker impatiently.

"In the course of my visit there, the scientists showed me a temporal irregularity they have discovered. These irregularities are known, interchangeably, as alternative time lines or even parallel universes. There have been several encountered in Federation history. For example, the alternative universe and/or time line wherein the Klingons and Federation remained at war, from which Tasha Yar crossed over and eventually became the mother of Sela. Then there was the alternative universe and/or time line which James Kirk and several of his command crew encountered that was a 'mirror' representation of our-"

"I know all that! Dammit, Data, what does any of this have to do with Deanna?"

"It has to do, sir, with how these alternative universes and/or time lines-"

"Stop saying it that way! It's getting on my nerves! Pick a term and stick with it!"

Data blinked. Riker was showing more fire and anger in the past five minutes than he conceivably had all during the past five years. "It has to do," Data began again, "with how these time streams...?" He paused on the last word, adding a slight interrogative to his intonation to see whether or not Riker approved of the terminology. The admiral nodded and gestured for him to continue. "It has to do with how these time streams are begun. No one knows how many there are; perhaps an infinite number. But apparently they key off of significant moments in time. Focal points was the term that then-science officer Spock coined, I believe. James Kirk's Edith Keeler, who inadvertently lived when she was supposed to have died, represented one such focal point. The constant surveying of the events that the Guardian displays will sometimes reveal one of these offshoots."

Riker swallowed hard. "And they've... they've found one involving Deanna?"

"That's correct, sir. Curiously, it revolves around the moment of Deanna Troi's death at the Sindareen peace conference. in the alternative time stream, Counselor Troi in fact did not die."

"How did she survive?" Riker's voice was barely above a whisper.

"They have been unable to make that determination. What they have discovered, however, is that the counselor was present at the peace conference... and her empathic abilities were able to discern that the Sindareen were lying about their peaceful intentions. Once she uncovered their duplicity, it was quickly learned that the entire peace conference was a scheme to use Federation resources to rebuild so that they could, years down the line, launch new and devastating forays against the Federation."

"Which they wound up doing."

"Yes, sir, in our time stream-the 'correct' one, for want of a better term. In our time stream, the Sindareen are a powerful and formidable people. In the alternative time stream, however, the Federation refused the peace initiative, pulled out, and the Sindareen economy eventually fell apart completely. At that point, the Federation then stepped in with restoration efforts, but under far more controlled and less trusting circ.u.mstances. The Sindareen were able to rebuild, but were a far more docile and chastened race."

"And Deanna lived." Riker looked to Data, his eyes sparking like flint struck together. "She lived."

"Yes, sir. So you see, Admiral... you can take heart. Although the counselor's death was an unfortunate and tragic thing, there is a 'cosmic justice' of sorts... a sense of balance. For in an alternative time stream, Deanna Troi lived and accomplished great things."

Riker was silent for a long moment... and then he seemed to be muttering to himself. Whispering. His voice was a low and gentle singsong, and it sounded as if he were trying to reason something out.

"Admiral?"

Riker started to get to his feet and put a hand out to Data. The android a.s.sumed that Riker needed his help getting up and so lent him support. But then Riker's hand closed on Data's shoulder with a fierceness that might have been appropriate to a man less than half his age, and he whirled Data around, galvanized by inner fires.

"Turn the ship around," Riker said hoa.r.s.ely.

"Admiral?"

"You heard me. Bring us back to Betazed. Fastest possible speed."

"Sir, I'd like to be as accommodating as possible, but I don't understand why-"

With a red-hot fury, and a voice like iron pounded on a forge, Riker shouted, "Turn the G.o.dd.a.m.n ship around. Data! That's a direct order from a superior officer, Do it now, or so help me, I'll have you relieved of command and I'll steer us back there myself!"

CHAPTER 35.

It took a day to get all the clearances from the Betazed government. But Data did it as quickly as he could because he was of the firm conviction that if he didn't get an official release for the body of Deanna Troi, then Admiral Riker might very likely go down and bring the body back himself. In the current state that he was in, he was probably single-minded enough to haul the corpse onto his back and find a way to carry it piggyback to the Enterprise.