Part 32 (2/2)

Help me, Imzadi... the voice seemed to reach back through the years.

Riker leaped.

And then he was out of time.

Literally.

CHAPTER 37.

Lieutenant Barclay stood in the holodeck of the USS Enterprise 1701-D and cracked his knuckles.

He knew that he shouldn't. He knew he might get caught. But the odds were slim. Captain Picard, Commander Riker, all the senior officers had been involved with a major diplomatic bash that evening. So the chances were that they wouldn't be anywhere near the holodeck that night.

Besides, he was off duty now. And he had pared down his holodeck activity to once a week. It wasn't interfering with anything important. And if he had his own ways of entertaining himself, well-as long as he didn't hurt anyone, and as long as he wasn't overdependent on it... well, where was the harm in that?

He had already informed the computer precisely what he wanted. Now he said simply, ”Run program.”

A moment later he was standing on a vast, gra.s.sy plain. Far in the distance, ancient Rome stood in all its glory. But right in front of him was a small temple, circular with tall pillars.

Standing in the middle of the temple was Deanna Troi. She was scantily clad in gauze, flowing robes. She extended her arms to him and in a musical lilt said, ”I am the G.o.ddess of the mind.”

Barclay started toward her, his voice robust and deep. ”And I am the one who wors.h.i.+ps you... and whom you will wors.h.i.+p in return.”

And at that precise moment, something else appeared on the holodeck-seemed to just step right out of nowhere.

Barclay stopped, utterly confused. It was a man in what appeared to be some sort of uniform. It even looked vaguely like a Starfleet uniform, but the coloring was different and- Then Barclay took a close look at the face.

”What the h.e.l.l...?” he breathed.

The new holodeck image, which appeared for all the world to be an older version of Riker, looked around in what seemed to he momentary disorientation. Then ”Riker” turned, looked at Barclay, then to the image of Deanna, and back to Barclay. Riker put his hands on his hips and addressed Barclay with a voice of utter authority. ”So... I should have known. Still at it, Lieutenant?”

In total confusion, Barclay called out. ”Computer. Remove image of...” He wasn't sure what to call it. ”Remove new image and run a systems check.”

Riker merely stood there, showing no signs of disappearing. ”l,” he said, ”am a holodeck failsafe, built in to monitor the types of programs you're engaging in, Mr. Barclay. I am very disappointed to see you still perpetrating such... bizarre... scenarios. I want it halted immediately.” He pointed at Barclay sternly. ”Is that clear?”

”Y-yes sir!” stammered Barclay uncomprehendingly. ”Computer! Cancel this program! In fact... in fact, cancel all programs that I've created. As a matter of fact-cancel all my future partic.i.p.ation in holodeck activities!”

Rome, its environs, and the image of Deanna Troi, all vanished back into the nothingness they had come from. The only things remaining in the room were the glowing yellow grids, Barclay, and Riker.

”Very good, Lieutenant,” said Riker approvingly.

”Are... are you going to go now, too?” asked Barclay hopefully. He had no idea why, of all images, an older Riker had been chosen. But whatever the reason, it was a d.a.m.ned effective selection. He was totally unnerved by it.

”Yes, I'm going to go, too,” said Riker. ”And I'll tell you what. If you don't mention this incident to anyone, then I won't, either. We'll keep it just between us.”

”Th-thank you, sir,” Barclay said.

The image of Riker headed for the door. Barclay waited for it to vanish, as all holodeck creations did if they tried to leave the holodeck. Instead the doors hissed open obediently, and the elder Riker walked out, turned left, and headed down a corridor. The doors hissed shut behind him.

Barclay stood there for a long time. And then he went out, turned right, and returned to his cabin.

He didn't go near the holodeck for the rest of his stay on the Enterprise.

Admiral Riker walked quickly down the corridor, looking neither right nor left. He pa.s.sed a couple of crewmen, some of whom did double takes upon spotting him. Perhaps they would a.s.sume that some uncle of Riker's had come to visit the s.h.i.+p, or maybe the commander was coming from some sort of costume function. He didn't slow down enough for anyone to get a really clear look at him, and he certainly didn't stop to answer any questions.

He had to get his bearings. Figure out precisely when he was. He could have asked Barclay, but he hadn't wanted the lieutenant to question his existence as anything other than some sort of confusing holodeck manifestation. It had saved him time-and he didn't know how much time he had.

He ducked into a room to his left that he knew was going to be vacant because it was one of the guest quarters. Once inside, he called out, ”Computer! Tell me the stardate and time.”

There were few moments in Riker's life that he could precisely remember down to the second of their occurrence. But the day and time of Deanna Troi's death was certainly one of those. He was able to recall the exact sound of Beverly Crusher's voice as she had labored to bring Deanna back to life. And when she had failed... when she had finally realized that nothing was going to help, and her best friend on the s.h.i.+p was forever gone... she had said, in a voice that sounded choked with dirt from a grave, ”Record the time and date of death.” The computer had obediently, and uncaringly, said it out loud for the record.

Riker had been standing there and had heard it-heard it punctuated by a choked sob from Beverly Crusher. There had been no noise from Riker himself-already the cloud was settling over him. The cloud that would cloak him for forty years.

Now, in the vacant guest quarters, the computer informed him of the day and time.

He felt his breath catch in his throat, the blood pounding in his temple.

He had hoped to arrive a day or two beforehand. Somehow, cautiously, make contact with Deanna. Inform her of what was to happen. Convince her, put her on guard. And even more importantly-give her the antidote for the poison that he had brought back with him, securely stored in his jacket.

He had known that it would he dangerous. Somewhere, somehow, Data might have sent people back, antic.i.p.ating his moves. Trying to block his plans. But Data would have to be judicious-he didn't want to upset the applecart of time, and he would be very, very careful as to what he did and how he did it. Riker had antic.i.p.ated that there would be something of a chess match of strategy, played out through the corridors of the Enterprise 1701-D.

But he had been wrong.

He didn't have time for subtlety. He didn't have time for finesse.

What he had was twenty-three minutes.

Twenty-three minutes from right now, until the point where Deanna Troi would be lying on Beverly Crusher's medtable, a lifeless bundle of flesh.

”d.a.m.n!” he snarled.

He charged out into the hallway, resetting his chronometer, and bolted down the corridor, running full-tilt toward Deanna's quarters.

His arms pumped furiously, and as he turned a corner, his pounding footsteps alerted a security guard. The guard turned, and Riker didn't recognize him. That, in and of itself, didn't mean anything. Even when he was the second-incommand, he didn't necessarily know every single crewman on sight-particularly if it was a relatively new arrival. And he wasn't even the contemporary Riker-forty years had pa.s.sed, and faces blurred with the years.

Then again-it might be someone sent back by Data.

The security guard frowned and started to reach for his phaser. ”Hold it!” he called out.

Again, Riker had no way of knowing for sure. Certainly, with so many dignitaries presently on board the Enterprise, it would be standard operating procedure for guards to be on alert to anyone who didn't seem to belong there. And Riker certainly seemed out of place.

Then again-the ”guard” might know precisely who the grayhaired man was, and what his mission was.

Riker raised an arm in front of his face to block the guard's view and slammed into him, knocking the younger man back before he could bring his phaser up. ”Security alert, deck fourteen!” shouted the guard, and then Riker grabbed him up, pivoted, and slammed him headfirst into the wall. The guard went down, unconscious, and Riker scooped up his phaser.

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