Imzadi_ Triangle Part 32

"H ... had... enough ..." he managed to get out.

"Was that... a question to me ... or a ... description of yourself..." Worf said between lungfuls of air.

At that moment, a squad of Romulans entered. They surveyed the damage that the two of them had done to each other, and Dr. Tok-who was carrying what appeared to be a medical kit-shook his head in annoyance. "Take this one," he pointed at Worf, "and stick him with his son and fiancee."

The Romulans did as they were told, while Tok knelt down opposite Riker. He pulled instruments from his kit and started working on Riker's face. "Hold still please," he said as the tools began to stimulate cellular growth in Will's skin.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you fixed up. In case you're unaware of it, you came in here looking rather in bad shape to begin with. Your little brawl with the Klingon didn't do much for your complexion on top of that. Sela reasoned that sending you to the Klingon homeworld looking like you've been in a series of fights is hardly going to facilitate your pa.s.sing yourself off as William Riker."

"Believe me," said Will, "that's the last person I'd want to be right now."

Worf was not entirely sure of the reaction he was going to get when he entered the room with Deanna and Alexander. So he was relieved when Deanna took one look at him, sighed, "Oh, Worf... thank G.o.d ...," and ran to embrace him. The warmth of her, the intensity of her arms around him ... it all went a long way toward a.s.suaging the serious concerns that he had been having. Deanna was, after all, the priority here. Although she was Starfleet, still she had been raised in the ways of Betazed. She might have had difficulty with the notion that Worf was prepared to sacrifice her rather than allow dishonor and dereliction of duty to hold sway. "I... I knew you were alive, even after I saw you take that fall... I knew it... and now you're here . , ."

"Everything will be all right," Worf a.s.sured.

"Yes, it will," Alexander spoke up. Then he paused and added, "Thanks to Riker."

There was silence in the room for a moment.

For a moment, Worf wanted to shout at his son. To dress him down, to verbally eviscerate him for taking that tone. But matters were difficult enough as it was. Now was the time for patience and understanding, the types of thing that Deanna had labored so mightily to teach him. To teach them both.

Before he could say anything, Deanna said to Alexander, "Alexander... what your father did ... it was the right thing for him to do ..."

"And Riker was wrong? You're saying it was wrong for us to live?"

"No ... he ... he also did ... what was right for him...**

Inwardly, Worf shuddered at the fact that she was echoing Riker's own words. Was there anything that the two of them were not united upon? Was there any room for Worf in the equation at all?

"Alexander, I expected you to understand," Worf said. "Have I not taught you anything?"

"Oh, you taught me, Father," Alexander replied with quiet defiance. "You taught me just how important my life, and Deanna's life, is to you. And you've done it with such efficiency that I don't give a d.a.m.n if I never see you again."

"Alexander!" Deanna said, shocked.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, there was every possibility that Worf would have blown his top by that point. But he was still feeling emotionally spent from his altercation with Riker. So instead patience ruled the moment. "You have to understand, Alexander... when you were dying, a part of me was dying with you. But everything that makes me who I am, everything that I believe to be important, dictated that I had no choice. My commitment to Starfleet, and the Federation, and the Klingon way of life, all required-"

Alexander walked slowly toward him, fists balled up, and he practically shouted, "It had nothing to do with Starfleet! Or the Federation! Or the Klingon way! It had to do with your own stubborn pride!"

"That is not true!" snapped back Worf. "I cared about doing my duty, first and foremost."

"Obviously you care about duty more than Deanna ... or me... or anything."

"You do not understand."

"Oh, no ... I understand. You've made it very clear,"

Alexander said to him. And then he turned and walked away from him, sitting with his back pointedly to his father.

Will looked in the mirror that had been provided him and was pleased to see that his face was well on the way to healing up. And he was wearing a Starfleet uniform, which, for some reason, made him feel more human again somehow.

The question was, had he betrayed that uniform by "knuckling under" to the Romulan demands?

The thought was repellent to him, but he had spoken the truth to Worf: He had simply felt as if he had no choice. The question wasn't how could he have saved them. The question was how could Worf not have. But he had been honest he said that, in many ways, Worf remained a mystery to him. He just didn't understand the man.

Then again, considering the number of times that Riker didn't understand himself, it was probably a wash.

That was when he heard his own voice just outside the door.

"I want to have a few minutes alone with the prisoner," Tom Riker said. "It'll be all right, I a.s.sure you. Where's he going to go?" The guard who was on duty apparently agreed to Tom's request, because a moment later Tom was inside.

"Here to gloat?" asked Will.

"No," Tom replied calmly. He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Will... I know you don't think much of me ..."

"Is this where I'm going to hear another lecture about how difficult it's been for you? Of the hand that you didn't get dealt. Are you going to try and rationalize away the fact that you're a traitor?"

"A traitor to whom, Will? A traitor to what?" Tom grinned raggedly. "I'm doing my duty, just as you are. But I have a different duty. So I became a member of the Maquis while you stayed with Starfleet. So what? Someone had to be the evil twin."

Will, to his own surprise, laughed at that. "I don't think of you as evil. Stupid, perhaps... and a traitor ... but not evil."

"That's d.a.m.ned decent of you. We're no different, Will. I watched you stand there and throw away your Starfleet oath-risk interplanetary warfare-for the life of a single woman. How does that make you any less of a traitor?"

"It is different."

"The reasons may be different, but the result is exactly the same. Don't tell me it's not, we both know it is." He crouched down next to Will and lowered his voice. "You can fool Sela ... but you can't fool us. Don't even bother trying to lie to me. I know what you're going to do. You'll try and pull some sort of double-cross, some sort of last-minute stunt. You're playing for time, and-unlike Worf-you don't mind lying or losing face or bending to the pressure. You just couldn't let her die."

"Really. Tell me this, then: If we're so much alike ... how come you could let her die?"

Tom looked down. He actually appeared ashamed. "You know ... when I first met you ... and I saw that you had let Deanna just be there, part of your life but outside of your life all those years ... I felt nothing but contempt for you. Perhaps some of that carried over to this day. But I think... to a degree... you are stronger than I ever could have been. Stronger because you resisted the impulse to pursue her, to reignite the relationship, even though you must have wanted to ... just because you felt it was the right thing for her."

"Mr. Worf seems to feel that it was a sign of cowardice," Will said.

"From what I've seen of Mr. Worf, he would. You see, the thing that Worf hasn't learned yet is that just because you can do something doesn't always mean you should. He acts on impulse a good deal."

"Worf s impulse was to save Deanna and Alexander. He resisted it in the pursuit of a greater cause. I didn't. What does that make me?"

"Cagey," said Tom. "Because, as I said, I know that you wouldn't give in just like that. You must have something in mind."

Will was about to reply, but then he stopped. A look of caution crossed his face. "You must think I'm seriously stupid."

"No. No, I don't think that at all. Why would you think I do?"

"If I were planning something ... if I was hoping to make a grandstand play ... do you seriously think I would tell you?"

"Oh, of course. I'm the traitor."

"Yes. You are. You have no idea what it's like, Tom ... to be ashamed of myself... and unable to do anything about it, because it's not myself... but it is."

"I suppose. After all, why would I have anything to be ashamed of when it comes to you, right? Will Riker, the great, Will Riker the wise. Will Riker who, even when he betrays his ideals, doesn't do it out of some nasty, dirty political cause. No, no. He does it..." He made a thumpa-thumpa gesture with his hands over his chest. "... for love." He paused and then said, "You know, Will... so many people ask themselves, if they had it to do over differently, would they? When the question had to do with your relationship with Deanna, you were probably the luckiest b.a.s.t.a.r.d in the galaxy. My existence gave you the opportunity to find that out. And the answer was, No, you wouldn't do it differently. How very gratifying."

"What's your point?"

"My point is ... how do I get to find out? If I had something to do over again, would I do it differently? I don't get to have a convenient re-creation of me through a transporter accident. So if I want to find out if I'd do things differently... there's only one way to find out. I have to do it myself."

And before the full meaning of Tom's words managed to weigh on him, Will suddenly felt a pinch in his arm. He looked down and saw two, small dartlike objects nestled in his right biceps. Then his gaze swiveled over to Tom's hand, where a small weapon was held.

"Good night, Will," he said.

The world moved sideways around Will Riker. He tried to pull his head together, but he couldn't do it. A moment later he slumped over onto the floor.

"After all," Tom asked Will's insensate body, "how easy is it to betray one more person... when you've betrayed before?"

When the Romulans showed up, they saw only one Riker sitting in the middle of the room ... the one with the Starfleet uniform.

"Where's Will Riker?" they asked.

"How do I know where he is. Am I my brother's keeper?" said Tom. "He said he had other matters that he needed to attend to. That's all I know. You want him so much, you go-find him."

For all the seriousness of the moment, Tom was finding it somewhat amusing. For what seemed ages now, Tom Riker had been masquerading as Will Riker, hoping not to be found out His impersonation had been so perfect that he had convinced the Romulans he was, in fact, Will Riker. Yet now he had to pa.s.s himself off as Tom Riker ... which should have been simple, considering that he was Tom Riker, but even that was going to be slightly tricky since he had to remember to answer only to the name of Tom rather than Will... even though Will wasn't really his name ... except it was.

His head started to hurt.

"Come on, then," one of the guards said, and they escorted" Tom Riker down the hallway, leaving an unconscious Wilt Riker crunched up unseen in the closet.

Moments later, Tom was face-to-face with Sela. He looked for some hint of suspicion in her eyes, but there didn't seem to be any. "So, Tom ... we understand each other?"

"Perfectly."

She presented him with the bottle of Romulan ale. "You are not to open it before you present it to Gowron. If he sees that it was tampered with-even by someone who is as theoretically trustworthy as you-he might have some trepidation about drinking from it."

"And we wouldn't want that."

"No," she said significantly. "We wouldn't."

"How am I going to get there?"

"We have a Federation runabout, which we captured some time ago. It will be more than sufficient. Once you arrive there, arrange for a meeting with Gowron and do what needs to be done. Believe me, I will know if you do not. And I will know if you seek help or try to betray us. We have eyes and ears there."

"What if something happens I can't control? Deanna, Worf, and Alexander shouldn't suffer if I try but fail."

"You're right. They shouldn't." Her voice turned hard. "So unless you intend to die in the attempt... I suggest you don't fail."

CHAPTER.

w,, rill!" Picard said in amazement. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

And standing in the doorway, Riker replied, "That, Captain ... makes two of us."

Slowly Tom Riker entered Picard's guest quarters, pretending to look around in as casual a fashion as he could. The fact was, his mind was racing fast and furiously.

This was it. Here was Jean-Luc Picard himself, capable of helping Tom Riker save the day.

When Tom had arrived on the Klingon homeworld, unannounced, he had gotten a fairly surprised greeting from the local officials. He had come up with an involved cover story explaining that he had journeyed to Qo'noS, purely on his own, as a gesture of friendship to let Gowron know that not everyone in Starfleet approved of the recent overtures to the Klingons. That would very likely appeal to Gowron's vanity. He would certainly welcome him on that basis.

Tom, however, did not have the opportunity to so much as open his mouth. For the first words that he was greeted with upon his arrival were "We a.s.sume you're here to join Picard."

Tom had done everything he could to cover his surprise. "Yes. Yes, that's correct." And the next thing he knew, he was being ushered into the presence not of Gowron, but of Picard. It left Tom in something of a lurch. There was now no politic way for him to inform Gowron that he wanted an audience, because the obvious question would be, why did he want to meet with Gowron separately? On the other hand, matters did become a bit easier. As it was, he was a.s.sured of seeing Gowron since, obviously, he was going to be meeting with Picard as well.

But even better ... all he had to do was tell Picard the truth. Confide in him, tell him where the others were being held, and Picard could take it from there. He could contact Starfleet, they could send a rescue ship, and that would be that. It was perfect.

It was too perfect.

He didn't know whether he could trust Picard or not.

He didn't really know the man, not really. Will Riker knew him well enough, of course, but if Tom Riker was living proof of anything, it was that one cannot always trust the surface. Sela had taken pains to hold Picard up as trusted by the Klingons. Was that her expressing distaste for an opponent... or had he been turned by the Romulans? Or what if this wasn't even really Picard, but a shapeshifter of some kind, and the real Picard was gone? Was the fact that he was trusted by the Klingons something that she was boasting about because it worked to their advantage? Sela had said repeatedly that they had people there on Qo'noS, watching every move. Was that true ... or was it simply something she was saying in order to make sure that Riker-any Riker-did as he was told to do?

But if Picard was on the Romulan side, then why in the world was someone else needed to try and poison Gowron? Well, that was obvious, of course. By having someone as key as Picard in their corner, it gave the Romulans a tremendous advantage not only in terms of their involvement with the Klingons, but in Starfleet itself. Tom could make the attempt on Gowron's life and Picard could easily claim that he knew nothing about it, that Riker had acted completely on his own. Picard's hands would remain clean.

Tom had absolutely no idea what to do. It was ironic: He was judging the entire world through his own perspective of skewed morality.

The tilling was, he knew how to save Gowron.

And the fact was that the hostages should be able to save themselves. Because it was, in fact, William Riker who had been left behind in the Romulan outpost. But it wasn't William Riker who Sela thought was a traitor. Instead it was William Riker, the Starfleet officer, who-like Tom-would be in the odd position of having to impersonate himself. Sela trusted Will Riker-the Will Riker she knew, in any event. And because of that trust, Will would certainly have the opportunity to find a way to get them off of there. h.e.l.l, they might even be free already.

So he didn't have to trust Picard.

Except... he couldn't be one hundred percent sure that Will Riker could get Deanna, Worf, and Alexander off the Lintar moon. He needed to provide a fallback, but had to do so in such a way that, if Picard were a traitor-and Sela later found out about it-she wouldn't think that Tom had been dealing in less than good faith and had been planning to betray them from the get-go.

It was all very complicated. But Tom was becoming increasingly sure that he knew how to deal with it. The only downside was...

... it was going to cost him his life.

But he had come to regard that as a very small price to pay.

"Sit, Will! Please, sit," Picard said, gesturing for Tom to join him. Tom sauntered over to a chair, swung it around, and straddled it. "I must admit, I'm a bit confused. I thought Starfleet a.s.signed you to the Academy for the interim."

"There was a last-minute rearrangement of schedules to accommodate another professor," Tom said easily. "It turned out he was available now, but not later. So they flip-flopped us. Actually, I start six months from now."

"Good heavens. All that time on your hands."