Imzadi_ Triangle Part 11

That was exactly the thing to do when surrounded by a hostile enemy-put forward a preposterous story that would very likely be greeted with utter contempt. He could hear the reaction in his mind: You expect us to believe that? Are you insane? What sort of fools do you take us for? And that would immediately be followed by more kicking, more beatings, his head caved in and him, Riker, reduced to a state where he was either too pathetic to bother keeping alive, or such a mess that death would be preferable and they wouldn't oblige him just to be b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

But he didn't know what else to say.

So he said nothing. He just crouched there on the floor, trying to battle through the wave of nausea sweeping over him without succ.u.mbing to it.

"The strong, silent type. How very typical," said Sela. She hesitated a moment, weighing his fate, and then said briskly, "Lock him up. We'll deal with him later."

Well, that was certainly an improvement over "Kill him." He hadn't vomited, and he was about to be held prisoner by the Romulans, whose treatment of prisoners was legendary for its cruelty. It looked like this was turning out to be his lucky day.

Sela stood by Saket's side, holding his hand tightly as the older Romulan lay on the table in medical. The Romulan medical facilities were not terrific to start with; the basic philosophy of the Romulans was survival of the fittest, and those who were too injured to survive were generally allowed to die as a matter of course. But Saket's was a very different situation, at least as far as Sela was concerned. She looked to the medical officer, who simply shook his head. There wasn't a d.a.m.ned thing that he could do. The damage was too extensive. By rights, Saket truly had no business being alive in the first place.

"I saw you flying that fighter," Saket whispered. Despite her keen hearing, Sela still had to lean forward to hear everything he was saying. "It was you, wasn't it."

"I wouldn't let anyone else handle it," Sela said. "My people all said I was crazy."

"You are. I have always known that about you. Sometimes I think that was my main contribution to your teachings." He coughed more and more violently, and then seemed to pull himself together through sheer force of will.

"Lie still, Saket..."

"And die ... quietly ... ? No ..." He shook his head.

"Saket... where did you hide it?" she asked. "Tell me where. Do you have it on you? Is it back on Lazon Two?"

Saket didn't seem to hear her. Instead his mind was elsewhere. "Riker ... he is a good man... to have on your side ... I was ... cultivating him for you ... knew you'd come for me ... he is ... my final legacy ... to you ..."

"Use him how?" demanded Sela. "For the plan? We needed... need ... you. We don't need him... ."

"No ... we don't... but think how much ... more effective..."

Slowly the truth of what he was saying began to dawn on her. "Yes ... yes, it would be, wouldn't it..."

"You begin to see ... always were ... a quick pupil... you and Riker... good ... good team ... good couple..."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sela had to stifle an urge to laugh. "Good couple? Little late in your life to start a new career as matchmaker, wouldn't you say, Saket?"

Saket said nothing.

She called his name again, shook him slightly. Even as she did, though, she knew. Knew beyond any question that he was gone.

Sentiment began to wash over her, like a tide choked with pollutants. She shoved the feelings away. They were anathema to her, she had no time for them.

"He didn't tell us where it was," said the medical officer, a heavyset Romulan named Tok. "He was in too much pain ... he could not focus on what was important."

"Either that," Sela said thoughtfully, "or he was certain we could find it without his help, and wanted to use his remaining strength to deal with other matters..."

"Such as Riker?"

"Such as, yes." She turned on her heel and headed for the exit.

"What about Saket?" asked Tok.

"Run a complete sensor sweep over him. Take him apart organ by organ, if you have to. If the sample is on him ... I want it."

With that, Sela took her leave of the medical facility, leaving Tok to his work.

As she headed down the corridor, she walked rigidly, looking neither left nor right, as if she had no care for anyone around her. Outwardly she exuded complete calm and control. Inwardly she was a raging torrent. Saket was gone. The sample was still missing. And she had Will Riker in her possession.

What was she going to do with him?

That was something she was going to have to determine, and the little chat she was about to have with him would help her decide one way or the other.

Three times Riker had endeavored to sit up and each time the nausea had hit him. But the fourth time he had actually managed to pull himself together sufficiently to sit up without any ill effects. "And now, for my next trick..." he had muttered before steeling himself sufficiently to stand up. This he managed to do, leaning against the stark metal wall, drawing in a few deep breaths, and finally walking slowly around the perimeter of the Romulan lockup. It didn't take long to get the feeling for his surroundings: Six steps in any direction pretty much covered it. There was a hard-surfaced, horizontal board which served as the only piece of furniture in the place-couch and bed, all rolled into one. If he needed to relieve himself, or vomit up some of the unpalatable food they gave him, he was escorted under armed guard to a facility down the hall and then promptly brought back. That was the entirety of his existence.

There was a forcefield, naturally, barring his exit, and a guard firmly in place. The guard wasn't even deigning to look in Riker's direction, which was more or less fine with Riker. It wasn't as if he was feeling particularly chatty at that moment anyway.

He heard brisk footsteps coming his way, and wondered whether this was going to be the Romulan execution squad or whoever it was that was going to be sent to finish him off. Or perhaps they would torture him first for information. Now, wouldn't that be a little slice of heaven.

Tom reasoned that the window of opportunity had closed for him to inform his captors of who he truly was... although he still had serious doubts that such an endeavor would have met with the slightest bit of success. The Romulans were a p.r.i.c.kly people, and they were just as likely to think that he was trying to make fools of them as anything else. Besides, the one chance he might have for survival was if they thought he knew more than he did, or was of more value than he truly was.

There was also the question of ransom. It was entirely possible that they might try to barter something in exchange for him, operating under the belief that they had in their possession the legendary Commander William Riker. Will Riker might indeed be a useful bargaining chip. Tom Riker, on the other hand, was useless.

That was a hard fact for Tom to deal with, but there it was. Tom Riker was someone whose capture and possible death in captivity was of no weight to anyone. He was already a disgraced traitor. Who in Starfleet would possibly put themselves on the line for him? He was a freak of nature, a transporter malfunction with a soul... someone else's soul. He had nothing. No freedom, no honor, not even the single most fundamental property possessed by every living being, sentient or otherwise, in the known galaxy: uniqueness. Out there, roaming free in the galaxy, was someone who was in every way identical, except when it came to career and regard by his peers; in those matters, he was far superior.

And Tom Riker, in trying to carve out his own niche in the galaxy, had paid for it dearly. Life in a Carda.s.sian labor camp, and that was under a sentence that had been commuted.

Better that they had killed me, he thought bleakly.

It was while he was in this dark mood that Sela came to him.

She stood on the other side of the forcefield, regarding him for a moment as he sat on his uncomfortable piece of furniture. Then she nodded to the guard, who deactivated the forcefield. She stepped through, stood there with her arms folded, and waited.

Tom said nothing.

Nor did Sela.

They stood there in that way, in silence, for ten minutes. Then Sela turned on her heel and walked out without so much as a word having been exchanged.

The same thing happened the next day, the exact same thing happened, except this time it was for twenty minutes.

The day after that, thirty.

Still there was not a word spoken between the two of them. It had become an almost perverse test of will. She would stand there, and he would sit on the bed/seat, and that would be the extent of their interaction. If they had been telepaths, it might have made some sense. As it was, even the guard seemed mystified. Every time Sela departed the cell, he would look at her questioning^, but she didn't even return his glance.

During the third visit, as Sela was preparing to leave, Tom decided to amuse himself. Just as she began to turn away, Riker winked at her. She looked back at him, but his face was impa.s.sive once more. Not so much as a crack in the stone-faced facade that he had carefully crafted for himself. She hesitated ever so briefly, and then walked out once more.

When she came back the fourth time, it was with a proposal.

"We found it."

Truthfully, it had not taken Tok all that long. He had found it within twelve hours after beginning the autopsy, and he was mentally kicking himself for it having taken as long as it did.

Pieces of Saket lay scattered about the autopsy room, but Sola's attention was upon the eye that stared up (unblinkingly, of course) at her. "His left eye, to be precise," said Tok proudly. "It was a phenomenal construct, fabricated from actual living tissue. Designed to elude detection by even the most advanced of techniques. Fully functional, and indistinguishable from his living eye. You'd never know which one was the fake."

"In his eye," Sela said wonderingly.

Tok nodded eagerly and, using his medical tools, gently turned the eye over. Using a scalpel, he set the harmonics within to vibrate at a certain frequency that was apparently encoded into the eye's microcircuitry. Within moments there was a very soft, barely audible "click" and then the back of the eye opened. Ever so delicately, Tok removed a chip which glistened silver, except for one area which was dark blue.

"Is that it?" asked Sela. She tried to keep her voice calm and neutral, but there was clear excitement in her tone.

"I believe so. Yes... definitely. The circuitry of the chip keeps the chemical sample in a sort of stasis: inert and harmless."

"He did it." There was envy and awe in her voice. She looked in the direction of his heart, which sat by itself on a silver tray. "Saket, you old b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you actually did it. You found it. I didn't think it was possible ... but if anyone could do it, you could." She considered eating the heart out of a sense of respect to Saket, but decided that it probably wasn't the appropriate time for such actions.

She cast a glance over her shoulder as if somehow she could actually see the Carda.s.sians, their homeworld or their prison, from the Romulan warbird's medical facility. "How long will it take you to synthesize it?" she asked Tok without looking at him. "Synthesize it... and test it."

"I have no way to know, Sela," Tok said apologetically. "There are simply too many unknowns. Since I don't know what the compound consists of, I cannot say for sure what will be required to synthesize it... and whether it works or not has to be completely computer simulated. Unless, of course," he added, "you're volunteering to test it yourself."

"Don't be snide, Tok, unless you'd like me to pick you as someone upon whom we can try it... out..."

Her voice trailed off as she looked thoughtfully into the air.

Sela was oftentimes a mystery for Tok, but this time he thought he had an idea what she was thinking about. "Riker?" he guessed. "You're thinking that we test it on Riker?"

She glared at him in a way that indicated he had totally missed, once again, what she was considering. "You think too small, Tok. No, we're not going to test it on Riker. That would be an extraordinary waste of material. Take the time you need, Tok. We're in no hurry. No one is going anywhere. As for Riker ... I have other thoughts in regards to him."

She had found him a most curious case. When she had first walked up to him while he was in captivity, she had had no idea that they were going to have so much difficulty just getting beyond initial contact. But somehow she had just expected that Riker was going to commence the festivities. That he was going to threaten, or cajole, or plead, or bl.u.s.ter... something, anything that would be oh-so-typical for the arrogant second-in-command of the Enterprise.

Instead there was nothing. Perhaps he was trying to show her that he held her in such disdain that he had no desire to talk to her ... or else it was a ma.s.sive show of bravado ... or else he really just didn't give a d.a.m.n. All of those options seemed rife with their own possibilities.

But she realized she wasn't going to get anywhere if matters continued as they were. So she was going to have to do something to move them to the next level, since it was becoming obvious that Riker wasn't about to.

"Saket is dead ... in case you were wondering."

He almost jumped when she spoke, since it was the first time she had done so. But he very quickly regained his outward impa.s.siveness.

"I was wondering, yes. Thank you for telling me." He paused and then added matter-of-factly, "I considered him a friend. My condolences to you, for whatever your relationship may have been to him."

"So how did you wind up there?"

"There? Where?"

"In a Carda.s.sian labor camp, fool," Sela said testily. She was leaning in what appeared to be a leisurely fashion against one of the walls of Riker's cell. But Riker had the feeling that she was, in fact, battle-ready. If he made the slightest wrong move, she'd be ready to take him apart. At least, she probably presumed she could. Whether she really would be able to accomplish that feat was another matter, although considering Riker's condition after all these months, he wouldn't have wanted to bet against her.

He also noticed another Romulan standing in the corridor in a manner that was clearly supposed to suggest that he had no r particular reason for being there. He was taller than the average Romulan, with a high forehead and uncommonly dark eyes that swam against a rather pale face. When the Romulan appeared to notice that he had caught Riker's attention, he moved off slightly to remove himself from Riker's field of vision, but Riker was certain he was still there. And whoever this Romulan was, not for a moment did Riker buy that he was there purely by happenstance. Romulans were far too methodical a people. Every word out of their mouths was carefully measured, and every action they took was done with meticulous planning. The pasty-faced Romulan hadn't been there before, and now he was. There was definitely a purpose for it.

Curiously, Riker was surprised to find that he didn't give too much a d.a.m.n about what it was. Sela was the one to watch out for. To that end, he focused his thoughts purely on the conversation at hand, not letting himself wander off into mental byways. It was not difficult for him to do. Many years ago, Deanna had spent long hours teaching him the mental discipline that the Betazoids had honed to such a fine art. Riker was hardly a telepath, although he was able to communicate with Troi mentally when the circ.u.mstances were right... and even then it was a haphazard proposition. However, Riker's mental focus was second to none; when he was zeroed in on something, nothing could distract him. There was no way he was going to allow Sela to trick him into revealing something that he didn't want her to know. The trick was to be guarded, so the wrong thing didn't get said, but not to appear as if he were being guarded so that Sela wouldn't suspect if he was being less than candid.

"I was on a mission," Riker said. "A mission that would have been a major strike at the Carda.s.sians."

"On behalf of Starfleet and the Federation?" she asked.

He tried to sound grimly humorous. "Let's just say they didn't disapprove." That much was true. At the time that Tom Riker had switched his allegiance to the Maquis-the underground terrorist group that had declared a private war on the Carda.s.sians in defiance of Federation treaties-Starfleet had no awareness that he was not at his new post on the Starship Gandhi. Therefore, of course, they did not disapprove.

Sela nodded slowly. "Ah. Let me guess: Good luck to you, Riker, and if it doesn't go well, don't expect us to help you."

He said nothing. He figured it would benefit him more to keep his mouth shut and allow Sela to put forward the suppositions. That was even easier than trying to be careful with what he said.

"And the Carda.s.sians caught you at it."

"That they did."

"And the Federation did nothing to help you?"

"That they did not."

"But of course," said Sela, walking with an odd little swagger, "if you had it to do over, you'd do the exact same thing. Because you are dedicated to your beloved Starfleet, aren't you, Riker?"

"Isn't this the point where you're supposed to be shining hot lights on me and breaking down my loyalty?"

She considered his level gaze, and a small smile actually played along the corners of her mouth. "Is that what you want me to do?"

Once more he said nothing.

"Is that what it would take," she continued, "to sever your allegiance to Starfleet?"

He'd known a question such as this one would likely be coming. He didn't hesitate, instead speaking with calm, deliberate candor. "The truth is," he said slowly, "that I've had time to reflect a good deal on my life. And if I had it to do over again ... there's a lot I'd do differently."

"Really. Anything having to do with ... oh ... Deanna?"

This seemingly innocuous, offhand comment caught Riker momentarily off-guard. Tom looked up at her, startled. He made no attempt to hide his confusion. "How did you know ... ?"

r "You talk in your sleep. Did no one ever tell you that? Two nights ago during your stay here, you murmured the name 'Deanna.' Muttered it somewhat; we had a bit of trouble understanding you at first. Would that be Deanna Troi, by any chance?"

This time he didn't ask how she knew, even in an abortive way. But she supplied the answer anyway: "One should always have a basic knowledge of who one's enemies are. She caused quite a bit of embarra.s.sment to our intelligence service, the Tal Shiar. We captured a dissident not too long ago and he told us a number of tales in hopes of his life being spared. One of them was of one Deanna Troi of the Starship Enterprise-your vessel, as I recall-who pa.s.sed herself off as a member of the Tal Shiar and helped M'ret and several top aides to escape their alleged persecution at the hands of our government. Oh yes, Deanna Troi made quite an impression on us, I a.s.sure you. So"-and she folded her arms and regarded him in an amused, even faintly smug manner-"are you enamored of her? Is that the case? Your concerns about her-"

"Are my concerns alone," Riker said sharply ... so sharply, in fact, that the guard outside the door automatically took a defensive stance as if he was expecting trouble. Riker reined himself in and then said with impressive calm, "She wasn't what I was referring to."

"What, then?"

This was it. He took a deep breath and said, "I owe nothing to Starfleet. I've had to watch others no more deserving than I get all the breaks in life, while I was treated as if I was nothing special. I've been dealt one lousy hand after another, and if I never have anything to do with Starfleet again, I really couldn't give a d.a.m.n."

He had said it all in one breath, as if he couldn't wait to get it out of his system. When he stopped speaking he simply glared at her for a few moments. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" he finally asked her.

"I wanted to hear the truth."

"You did."

She walked toward him with that same swagger that she effected so well. With each step she would hesitate just a moment before placing her foot down, as if trying to sense whether there might be a mine or some such device planted in the floor. "Are you saying... that you would not be opposed to a bit of payback to the Federation? That you feel as if you owe them nothing?"