Part 18 (1/2)

”The two hundred credits you owe me over the bet about Deanna.”

”I've got considerably more time on that, don't you think, Mark?” said Riker evenly.

”Time?” Roper laughed. ”Captain, time doesn't make any difference. She's cut ties with you. Now or doomsday won't make any difference. It's not going to happen. Lwaxana told me-”

”She told you what?” demanded Riker, his eyes turning keen and a bit angry. ”When did you speak to her?”

”Casual conversation a week or so ago.”

”Why didn't you tell me?” He crunched down on the toast.

”I am telling you. Frankly, you weren't even the topic of conversation. We were comparing notes about the dificulties of raising daughters. And Lwaxana was boasting about how Deanna listens to, and does, everything Lwaxana tells her to do because she has Deanna so well trained in her responsibilities as a daughter of the Fifth House. And an example she gave was how she shut down the relations.h.i.+p between Deanna and 'that Starfleet fellow' because it wasn't appropriate.”

”Oh, she did,” said Riker icily. ”Odd. That's not how I see it.”

”I don't imagine you would see it that way,” was Roper's calm response. He speared a piece of egg and said, ”But then again... I suppose how you see it doesn't matter all that much, does it, Captain?”

Riker looked daggers at Roper, but the older man was the picture of tranquillity. And why shouldn't he be? As far as he was concerned, he'd won a two-hundred-credit bet.

But Riker saw it a bit differently.

The problem was, Sergeant Tang had made a valid point. Running in pursuit of Deanna, making calls to the mansion, trying to start things up when she was clearly so intimidated by her mother... it didn't sound like a pleasant experience. The question was, which was the potentially more humiliating? Throwing himself at Deanna? Or losing the bet?

He kept hearing Tang's voice in his head, warning him about strategy. Warning him...

...his voice in his head.

That's when it hit him.

The next day, after an early-morning meeting with Tang to review the latest Starfleet reports about raider activity, Riker headed over to the university. He staked out a place for himself, seated on the edge of a large, ornate sculpture in the middle of the campus. And he simply waited. Sooner or later, Deanna was going to have to pa.s.s by.

He spent half a day there, watching the sun pa.s.s over in the sky, watching the shadows s.h.i.+ft position. They were simple, meaningless things. But he stared at them, focused on them, practicing. And as he did so, he slowed down his breathing, drawing out each breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

He did so with more than just an interest in finding his calm, inner self. He had a purpose, a drive to his actions. He used the urgency and determination to focus his thoughts, focus everything he did.

He had completely lost track of time, but something made him look up.

There she was.

She was walking across the campus, chatting with a couple of friends. She was laughing at something, and for a flash of an unreasonable instant, Riker felt tremendous resentment. Why should she be cheerful when he was feeling so much mental clutter?

But that wasn't what this was about. He couldn't submit to that clutter; he had to brush away the confusion, concentrate fully on the matter at hand.

He didn't look at her. Instead he was staring at the lengthening shadows, once again performing the steady in-and-out breathing. He reached down into himself, down into that determination that fueled the drive of his career. Except now that core of energy was going to fuel something else.

He felt it welling up inside him, felt-or at least hoped he felt-the ability, the potential, there for him to tap. And now he sought out Deanna.

There she was, her measured strides having taken her only a couple of meters beyond where she had been before. And she was looking his way. Apparently she had just noticed him, and she gently elbowed one of her girlfriends and nodded in Riker's direction. The other girl looked, too, and all three of them seemed to be sizing him up for a moment before putting their heads together and giggling.

And Riker took Deanna's image, took a mental snapshot, and imprinted it onto his mind. And then he cut loose in an undisciplined, inelegant burst.

You're afraid of me, he informed her.

The reward to his herculean effort was immediate. Deanna was thrown off-step, and her head snapped around in astonishment. She looked right at him, and on her face was utter shock.

To her credit, she recovered immediately. She fell back into step and made every effort to act as if nothing unusual had happened.

But Riker knew, dammit, he knew.

He tried to send again, but now his thoughts were cluttered, whirling and flushed with the excitement of his success. He couldn't pull himself together again fast enough-he hadn't developed nearly enough discipline.

He realized that he'd had the equivalent of beginner's luck. That didn't change the fact, though, that he had let Deanna know precisely what he was thinking. He had, in essence. thrown down the gauntlet right on her own turf of the mind.

She studiously looked away from him as she and her friends made their way across the campus. Deanna had, in fact, picked up the pace. It was clear to Riker why: she was concerned that he was going to come running after her.

However, he had no intention of doing that. In fact, when Deanna was almost out of sight, she risked a quick glance behind her. All she saw was Riker sitting precisely where he had been before, his legs crossed, looking like a smug Buddha.

Riker was sound asleep when an insistent rapping came at his door. He sat up in confusion, checking his chronometer. It was the middle of the night.

The first thought he had was that there was some sort of attack. He tossed the blanket around himself and ran to the door.

Deanna was standing there, her arms folded, her eyes bright.

”I am not afraid of you.”

It took a moment for Riker to s.h.i.+ft gears and realize that there was no danger from imminent alien a.s.saults. Still, he composed himself quickly. ”You could have fooled me.”

”Obviously you're not all that difficult to fool. On what grounds do you say that I'm afraid of you?”

”On the grounds that you cut off all communication with me. On the grounds that you're steering clear of me.”

”I cut off communication with you because, as far as I was concerned, I had better things to do with my time than devote it to someone who couldn't possibly understand the subtleties of our philosophies.”

”Well, obviously I'm understanding something,” he said, leaning against the doorframe, ”because I projected thoughts to you.”

”A fluke. Pure happenstance. Besides, you didn't do it for the satisfaction of opening up your mind. You did it so that you could get my attention; maybe even get back at me, in some crude way. As for steering clear of you, my presence here should be enough to show how ridiculous that is. On what grounds can you-?”

”On the grounds,” Riker interrupted remorselessly, ”that every time you're close to me you start to lose control. Your body starts sending you signals that your brain doesn't want to accept. Face it, Deanna... I'm upsetting your nice little intellectual applecart.”

Her gaze was steady and unrelenting. ”Get dressed.”

”Where are we going?”

”Out.”

”Where? Why should I go with you if you won't tell me where it is we're going.”

She looked at him defiantly. ”What's the matter, Lieutenant, afraid of me?”

”All right,” he said after a moment. ”Give me a couple of minutes.”