Fortune's Light

For Grandma,
who let us eat sugar and apple sandwiches
until the wee hours

Chapter One

AS HE FEDthe holodeck computer all the information he had collected, First Officer William Riker found
himself smilinggrinning, in fact, like a little kid.

And why not? He had been waiting a long time for this. It had been nearly a full week since the idea
popped into his head, and half his mind had been busy working out the details while the other half saw
him through the routine functions of a starship second-in-command.

Of course, in a larger sense, it had been more than a week. Hed been waiting all his life for this
moment.

Or at least since his seventh summer, when hed taken that spill off Execution Rock and fractured his
collarbone in three places. He still remembered all those summer days spent propped up among pillows,
imprisoned in his parents house while his friends swam in the river or hiked up into the highlands.

At first hed been full of bitterness and resentment. After all, he was Kyle Rikers son. He had to be
the best at everything, the leadereven at the tender age of six.

Thank God for his mother. She had taken advantage of that sedentary time to instill a love for the
quieter pursuits in the son who was so quickly growing away from her.

First there was the musicall kinds, but mostly her beloved jazz, for her father had been a trombone
player in a place called New Orleans. Will liked the happy music best, particularly during the endless
rainy afternoons when it seemed there had never been and never would be any color in the world but gray.

Then there were the cooking lessons. What an absurditya six-year-old learning to cook! But the payoff
was the privilege of eating whatever they had concocted, and his mother had a knack for making even the
humblest dish taste wickedly delicious. Perhaps the most amazing moment in his life, even through the
present day, was when he realized he could make ratatouille as good as hers.

Finally there were the books. At the beginning he had thought it kind of strangewho ever heard of
reading books? There were tapes and such if you wanted to be entertained orheaven
forfendlearnsomething. The pictures came up on a monitor along with a voice that provided the
narration. Simple. Easy.

In books there were no pictures. Most of the time, anyway. You had to come up with the images on your
own, and that was a lot like work.

Still, he took to reading. It tickled his imagination, like the music. Like the cooking lessons, he had
to put something into it to get something out.

And like both those things, the books gave him a window into his mother. He could see something
incredible in her, something young and fresh and beautiful, every time she read out loud to him, and
again when he read out loud to her.

Especially when they opened that certain bookthe one that had given him the idea to do what he was
doing now. It wasnt the kind of book he would have expected her to have, or the kind of subject hed
have expected her to take an interest in. But then, his mother had not been easy to predict.

Now he was glad that he had broken his clavicle that summer. Immeasurably glad, because it gave him that
much more to remember her by.

Not for the first time he wondered if in some way she had known that she would pass early from this
life. Maybe that was why it had been so important to her to give him these gifts. These parting gifts.

Riker sighed, gently putting the memories away like the prized possessions they were. All but one.

Tapping in the final instructions, the first officer waited for confirmation that the holodeck computer
had enough data to go on. A second or two later it indicated that it did.

Tingling with anticipation, he pressed the space on the keyboard marked Activate.

Beyond the closed composite-alloy doors, his fancy was working itself into a reality. Omnidirectional
holo diodes were coming to life; electromagnetic fields were taking on form and substance and texture.

He felt the magic beckoning, took a step toward it. The doors to the holodeck parted, revealing the
fruits of his attention to detail.

Perfect. It wasperfect just as he had imagined it, just as it had been described in the book.

And there they were, pulling on their uniforms. The men who had once captured the hearts of all Alaska,
and then broken them again, in short order. The legendary figures who had stirred such passion in young
Will Riker that he sometimes couldnt sleep at night.

Hed become obsessed with them. Hed learned everything he could about them. For a while hed even
pretended to be one of them.

Which, now that he thought about it, wasnt so very different from what he was doing now.

So what if they no longer seemed larger than life? So what if their blemishes were there for all the
world to see?

They were still his boyhood heroes, rousted from the pages of his mothers book. And they still fired
his imagination as few things had done before or since.

He took another step into the holodeck. . . .

Commander Riker.

It was Captain Picards voice. The summons was clipped, compact, typical of the captain. But it had a
little more weightiness than usuala certain urgency to it.

The first officer looked longingly at the world he had created. Then he took a step back and watched the
holodeck doors close.

He hit his communicator. Riker here.

Theres a classified transmission for you, Number One. It is coming in from Starbase Eighty-nine.

Riker required a moment to absorb the information. For me, sir?

Yes, for you. Specifically for you.

The first officer cleared his throat. Really, he said. Well, in that case, Ill take it in my
quarters.

As you wish, Number One. Mr. Worf is already making the necessary arrangements.

Riker nodded through force of habit, even though the intercom carried only audio communications. Thank
you, sir.

You are quite welcome, said Picard.

As Riker started down the corridor toward the turbolift, he wondered what kind of message could require
his attention rather than his superiors. Judging from the undertone of curiosity in the captains
voice, his superior was wondering the same thing.

As Picard got up, Wesley turned to watch.

Mr. Data, he said, you have the conn. Ill be in my ready room if anyone needs me.

The captain grasped the hem of his waist-length uniform jacket, pulled it taut with a crisp, compact
motion, and headed for his ready room.

Wesley loved that gesturethe captains tug on his jacket. If the bridge had been no more than a storage
bay, if there had been no computers on which to feast his intellect and no controls to measure his
skills against, he would still have aspired to it for the sake of gestures like that one.

Until recently he hadnt known exactly why, nor for that matter had he thought about it very much. Then
he and his class had begun their course of study on Shakespeare.

All the worlds a stage . . . Well, maybe notall the world. But certainly the bridge of theEnterprise
.

Wesley raised his eyes from his Ops panel long enough to scan the expansive two-tiered space. Itwas like
a stage, wasnt it? Crew members entered through the forward turbolift and exited through the aft,
crossed from Science One to the coffee dispenser and back again. There was always something going on,
always something to watch. And somehow every movementeven a trip to the head had a theatrical feel to
it, a special quality that made it seem larger than life.

Of course it was more than just the place. It was the personnel as well. And all the people on it
merely players.

Wesley smiled to himself. Players, yes. But not merely.

There was nothing merely about Worf, for instance, standing guard over the tactical console like . . .
like the ancient Colossus standing guard over Rhodes. Nothing insignificant about Data as he gazed at
the massive main viewscreen with a childlike innocence that sometimes seemed deeper than the deepest
wisdom.

Boypretty poetic, Wes. Maybe that Shakespeare stuff is contagious.

But the players who really drew Wesleys interest were the ones at center stage, the ones who usually
occupied the now-deserted command center.

Troi, with her . . . how would the Bard have put it? With her calm, Madonna-like beauty.

Riker, with that boundless energy that seemed to reach out octopuslike into every corner of the bridge.

And the captainmost of all, the captain. It always amazed Wesley how the man could rule with a glance,
transform the mood on the bridge with the slightest change in posture. It was almost scary.

Even now, as the ready room doors closed behind him, Picard commanded. Even in his absence, he had a
presence.

Like Julius Caesar, Wesley realized, in the play hed just finished reading. Even after his
assassination, Caesar had seemed to remain on stage, to be as much a participant in Romes political
maneuverings as any of his assassins.

But the captain did nothing without a reason. Why had he chosen this moment to repair to his sanctum?
There is a tide in the affairs of men . . . Why had Caesar picked this juncture to withdraw to his
tent?

No doubt it had something to do with the transmission from Starbase 89. The one that had come in for
Commander Riker and not for the captain himself, as would normally have been the case with classified
information.

Did the captain resent being bypassed? Did his indignation compel him to sit and brood in private?

No, that wasnt like him. Caesar . . . er, Captain Picard was not a petty man.

Then why? Was he waiting for something? For Commander Riker, maybeto come to him and reveal the nature
of Starfleets message?

Of course Riker was under no obligation to do that. The message had been for him and him only.

However, the captain was giving him a chance to discuss it. He was relieving his first officer of the
need to ask for a one-on-one meeting.

Yes, that sounded right.

On the other hand, there was always the possibility that Riker would not want to talk about it, that it
was so personal he would prefer to keep it to himself.

But when he came up onto the bridge and found Picard absent, wouldnt he have to inquire as to the
captains whereabouts? And then, after being told that Picard was in his ready room, wouldnt it be
incumbent on Riker to at least check in with . . .

Suddenly Wesley could barely restrain himself from laughing out loud. It was brilliantbrilliant!

Whether the first officer wanted to share his information with the captain or not, Picard had maneuvered
him into a position where it would be difficult for Riker to keep it to himself. Alone with his
commanding officer, how could he not at least hint at the substance of Starfleets communication?

And Picard had created this situation with a simple departure from the command center. He had removed
himself from center stage, but not from the drama.

It was a move that would have prompted even Caesar to sit up and take notice.

Wesley was pleased with himself. Things like quantum mechanics and warp-drive engineering came easily to
him. But human naturehumandrama was something for which he was just beginning to develop an
appreciation.

He wondered how many others on the bridge had perceived Picards intention the way he had. More than
likely he was the only one.

Now all that was left to be determined was what Riker would do. Having digested his message, would he
head straight for the bridge and Picards counsel? Or would he wait until his next shift started and
then come up to the bridge, only to find the trap that the captain had set for him?

Wesley didnt get his answer immediatelynot that hed expected to. Like any good play, he knew, this
one would take time to unfoldhours, perhaps, if Riker decided not to cut short his rec period.

In the meantime Wesley busied himself with diagnostic checks of the various engineering functions.
Normally his position and Datas were reversed, with the boy sitting at Conn and Data at Ops, but the
captain had wanted Wesley to become more familiar with the other stations on the bridge.

All the engineering functions checked out fine. Next, he turned his attention to the communications
system, which also came through with flying colorsand noticed that Rikers conversation with Starbase
89 had already terminated.

The minutes passeddragged, even. But nothing happened. Picard remained in his ready room, updating
files or polishing reports or whatever a starship captain did when he had some time to kill.

And then, maybe half an hour after Picards retreat from the bridge, the doors of the forward turbolift
parted to reveal the tall, straight form of theEnterprise s first officer. Riker wasnt smiling.

He took the bridge in with a single glance, saw that the three seats constituting the command center
were all vacant, and seemed to know immediately what that meant. He went to the ready room doors and
stood before them to signal his presence.

A moment later they opened, and the first officer disappeared inside.

It was a quick ending but a satisfying one. And, Wesley told himself, he had been a privileged audience
of one.

Then he heard the muted conversation in the aft stations: Itold you hed come straight here. No way he
wouldnt tell the captain about it. All right, already. Dinners on me, next shore leave.

Wesley chuckled to himself. Well, maybe not an audience of one, exactly. But a privileged audience
nonetheless.

He regarded the ready room entrance, beyond which some new drama was undoubtedly taking place, if the
expression on Rikers face had been any indication. Never a dull moment around here, Wesley told
himself.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard considered his first officer across his ready room desk. So, Number One? Care
to tell me about it?

Riker had been silent for some time, just staring into space. At the captains invitation, his eyes
focused.

Yes, sir, he said. Of course. He took a deep breath, let it out. Its hard to know where to begin.
And then, a moment later, it seemed that he had found a propitious place. Have I ever mentioned someone
named Conlon Teller Conlon?

Picard thought about it. I believe you have, he decided. A friend of yours at the Academy, wasnt
he?

More than a friend, sir. Mybest friend. And not just at the Academy. We shipped out on thePotemkin
together, and then on theYorktown . Riker paused. Five years ago, we were detached from active duty to
serve on the team that forged the Impriman Trade Agreement.

Ah, yes, said the captain. Quite impressive, the job you did there. Stole a planetful of valuable
resources out from under the noses of the Ferengi, as I recall. Or, more precisely, you recovered it,
after trade with the Federation had been cut off for twenty years.

It had all been in Rikers service record, a file with which Picard had become quite familiar back when
he was reviewing first officer candidates for theEnterprise . And the Impriman affair was one of the
things that had set Riker apart from the others.

The Imprimans wanted only one trading partnerthe Ferengi, or the Federation. The first officer
grunted. Truth be told, Teller deserved more credit for getting them to choose the Federation than I
did. He really got into the Impriman psychecame to understand them better than anyone had before him.
Imprima seemed to hold this great . . . fascination for him. So much so, in fact, that when the
Federation established a trade liaison office there, he volunteered to oversee it.

And he got the post, said Picard.

Hands down. Hell,I didnt want it. And Teller had the full support of the madraggithe political-
economic entities that make up what passes for government on Imprima.

So your friend stayed, observed the captain. And you left.

Riker shrugged, but it was less a shrug than an upheaval. It was as if his tunic had suddenly become two
sizes too small for him. Did his discomfort have something to do with the transmission from Starbase 89?
No doubt.

But Picard could wait to hear the rest of the story. For a change, he had no other pressing business. He
could afford to let the younger man proceed at his own pace. 

I left, confirmed Riker. Shortly after that, I was made first officer of theHood , and our assignment
was way the hell on the other side of Federation territory. I lost touch with Teller. A couple of times
he sent messages to me via subspace packet or through some mutual friend Id be bumping into, but I
never got around to sending anything back.

The captain smiled as forgivingly as he could. He was aware that forgiveness was not the attitude that
best suited his features. These things happen, Number One, to all of us. Its difficult to keep up
friendships in Starfleet.

But his first officer wasnt accepting absolution. Stubbornly he went on.

Pretty soon the messages stopped on his end, too. But I knew he was doing well, because Id see
dolacite containers listing Imprima as their point of origin. Every indication was that Teller had
become a big success there.

A but was coming. Obligingly Picard supplied it: But?

Riker accepted the prod. But just now I got a transmission from Starfleettelling me that my friend is
a thief. Worsea traitor.

The captain eased himself back in his chair. Serious charges. What is the basis for them?

Riker sighed. Criathis and Terrin are about to merge.

Criathis and Terrin? Picard prompted.

Sorry. Two of the madraggi. Criathis has been the Federations staunchest ally over the years. Terrin
has been a Federation proponent as well, though in a somewhat more cautious vein.

As I understand it, Terrin has not benefited from the trade agreement as much as it had hoped.
Criathis, on the other hand, has profited handsomely. Terrin still has tremendous resources, and
political influence to match; Criathis has growth potential. From both points of view, its a merger
made in heaven.

Whats more, Madraga Terrinas the larger of the two madraggiwould have the right to install its first
official as head of the newly formed entityin this case, a man named Larrak, disputably the best
businessman on the planet. Armed with an even broader array of resources, who knows how far he can take
Terrin-Criathis?

Needless to say, not all the madraggi see this as a good thing. The merger stands to hurt the political
enemies of both Criathis and Terrinchief among them a madraga called Rhurig.

But there is nothing Rhurig or anyone else can do to stop the mergerthat is, as long as Criathis and
Terrin follow the traditional protocols.

Picard nodded. The Imprimans value tradition, do they?

Very much so. Before Criathis and Terrin can get together, there has to be an old-fashioned merger
ceremony. And the merger must be made official by the use of special jewel-encrusted seals.

Seals, repeated Picard. Like those used to authorize documents on ancient Earth?

Precisely, sir. But these are pricelesseven apart from any historical value they may have. Dismantled
for its jewels, any one of the seals could buy a man an easy life in some obscure corner of the galaxy.

The captain was beginning to understand. And it is believed that your friend Conlon lifted one of these
seals so that he could buy himself this easy life?

Thats what theyre saying, agreed Riker. Apparently one of the seals to be used in the upcoming
ceremony has disappearedand Teller along with it. Naturally theyre putting two and two together. All
the evidence points to Tellers having stolen the seal, and without Fortunes Light

Fortunes Light?

The seal, sirall of these seals have names. In any case, its disappearance is going to cause that
merger to fall apart. Both madraggi will be scandalized, effectively crippling two of our biggest
supporters on Imprima. And when the other madraggi get wind of Tellers guilt in the matter, the
Federation will be booted off Imprima so fast our heads will swim.

All unfortunate, said Picard. Quiteunfortunate. But what has this to do with you?

Muscles tippled beneath the first officers bearded jaw. He leaned forward. They want me to go to
Imprima. To find my friend and recover the sealbefore the scheduled date of the merger ceremony.

Picard absorbed the information. I see, he said. And of course it makes sense. You know Imprima as
well as anyone in the Federation. What is more, you know your friend. He measured the younger man. You
have agreed to this assignment?

I had little choice, sir. Its Priority One.

The captain grunted. Then I will be receiving a message myself, no doubt. And it will instruct me to
remain in the vicinity of Imprima as your backup, should you need it. He grunted again. Is your friend
that dangerous, Commander?

Riker straightened. I dont think Tellers the culprit, sir.

Really. You think the evidence is circumstantial?

I think its no evidence at all. Teller was like a brother to me. I know him better than anyone, and I
know he could never have done anything like this. Someone has framed himset him up. And when I find out
where the seal has been hidden, I bet Ill find Teller as well.

Picard did not discount his first officers intuitive powers. He had proved himself a fine judge of
character again and again. But the fact patterndid point to Conlon.

Are you sure, asked the captain, that youre not allowing your own regrets to cloud your assessment,
Number One?

Rikers face went taut. What do you mean?

Simply thisthat you feel guilty for having allowed your close friend to go astray. You feel as though
you should have done something to prevent it.

My brothers keeper? suggested Riker.

Something like that, yes.

The younger man shook his head. No. Teller is innocent, and Im going to prove it.

All right, Picard said gently. You do that. But first, lets get you to Imprima. He looked up, as he
always did when addressing someone via the ships intercom computer. An unnecessary gesture, of course,
but one that seemed to be endemic to Starfleet personnel.

Mr. Data, set a course for the planet Imprima in the . . . Dante Maxima system? He looked to his first
officer for confirmation and got it in the form of a nod. Again, looking up: Make it warp eight,
Commander.

Aye, sir, said the android. Working . . . done. Course plotted and laid in.

Engage, said the captain.

As the ship surged into warp drive, Riker got up to go. He mumbled something about having to prepare for
his mission, though Picard privately wondered how much preparation could be required in this instance.

Good luck, Number One. I hope the facts come to bear out your beliefs.

His first officer looked at him. Yes, sir. I know you do.

When the ready room doors closed behind him, they barely made a sound.

Chapter Two

DATA HADNT STARTED OUTwith any intention of using the holodeck. Hed only been passing by when he
noticed something that piqued his curiosity.

A combination of two somethings, really. Two bits of information displayed on the holodeck computer
monitor. One indicated that the holodeck was in active usethat the program was proceeding in real time.
The other told him that there was no one inside.

Of course this was explainable in any of several ways. Most likely someone had forgotten to terminate a
program before leaving or for some reason had left before using all of it. It could also have been a
sign of a holodeck malfunctionsomething that happened rarely, but happened nonetheless. Or someone
could be inside, undetected by the computer.

Just to be on the safe side, Data called up the details of the programming. He scanned the identity of
the user, the nature of the program, and the projected duration.

There did not appear to be anything potentially dangerous about the environment selected. In fact, it
seemed quite benign. However, it was an environment with which Data had had no direct experience. The
best course, it seemed to him, was to find the programmerto make sure he wasnt trapped in the
holodeck, a prisoner of his own creation.

The android tapped his communicator, waited less than a second before it beeped in token of its
readiness. Commander Riker, he said out loud.

Riker here, came the near-immediate response. Whats the matter, Data?

You are safe? confirmed the android.

A pause. Assuming there are no poisonous lizards under my bed, yes. Why do you ask?

Data told him.

Oops, said the first officer. Sorry about that.

You need not apologize, said the android. There has been no harm done.

Another pause. Say, Data, Im not going to get the chance to use that programnot for a while, at
least. And I put quite a bit of work into it. Why dont you give it a try?

Data reflected on the possibility. Me, sir?

Why not? You might find it interesting. And anyway, itll probably take a trial run or two to work out
the bugs. You can test it out and let me know what you think.

Data glanced at the monitor and the information contained on the screen. I do not know. I am not well
acquainted with the environment you have synthesized.

So what? Broaden your horizons.

Indeed, said the android, unable to keep a note of skepticism out of his voice.

Look, said Commander Riker, its up to youI wont twist your arm. In any case, please dont erase
it. As I mentioned, it took me quite a while to put it together.

Of course, said Data. I will be careful to preserve it.

Thanks.

The android stood alone in the silent corridor, peering at the monitorand then at the holodeck doors.
At the monitor. At the doors.

It had been some time since he had used a holodeck, he mused. Neither pastoral settings nor comedy
nightclubs nor Sherlock Holmess London held much fascination for him lately.

Perhaps Commander Riker was right. Perhaps it was time for a new experience.

A beep told Riker that someone was in the corridor outside.

Open, he said, swiveling around in his chair.

The door slid aside, revealing the stolid bulk of the ships security chief. May I come in? Worf
asked, in the same tone he might have used to propose the annihilation of a hostile vessel. Klingons
always seemed to be engaged in a heated argument, even when they were uttering pleasantries.

The first officer nodded. Sure. Have a seat.

Worf entered and headed for a chair. It was situated on the other side of a polished amber-colored wood
tableone Riker had made himself out of wood from a thousand-year-old Alaskan pine after a landslide had
toppled the tree and half buried it.

The Klingon sat eyeing himbut not before hed darted a glance at the garments laid out on Rikers bed.

What can I do for you? asked the first officer.

Worf frowned. It was not necessarily a sign of displeasurehe frowned alot .

I have been notified that you will be beaming down to Dante Maxima Seven, also known as Imprima.

Yes, said Riker. Thats correct.

On a Priority One mission. Worf paused. By yourself. Another pause. Unarmed.

Right on all counts.

The Klingon seemed to be at a loss for the right words. Riker waited patiently, knowing that his visitor
would in time find what he sought.

Of course, Worf said at last, it is a Priority One mission. You need not tell me anything about
iteven though your safety is my responsibility.

The first officer found it difficult not to smile, but he restrained himself. Sothat was what Worf
wanted. In other words, said Riker, youd like to know what Im going to be doing on Imprima. Even
though its supposed to be classified information.

Worf shrugged his massive shoulders. If it will, in your estimation, enable me more efficiently to
carry out my duties as security chief.

Which, of course, extend to all members of the crew, even when they are not on the ship.

Of course.

It was a rather liberal interpretation of Starfleet regulations. However, Riker wasnt disposed to argue
with it. After all, he felt the same way on those rare occasions when the captain led an away team.

So he told Worf what he wanted to know. Not in the same detail hed used with Picard, but nonetheless
covering all the essentials.

The Klingons frown gradually deepened. Then this matter is of some personal importance to you?

Yes, conceded the human. It is.

Worf digested that. Loyalty was something he could easily understand. Naturally, you will remain in
contact with the ship?

Ill report in occasionally. Besidia, the city where Ill beam down, is hosting something called a
Trade Carnival. One of the rules of the carnival is that there are to be no high-tech devices, including
communications equipment, and theyve gone to the trouble of enumerating the items they dont want to
see. Of course the list doesnt specifically mention our communicators . . .

But their use may be frowned upon.

Yes.

Still, you will carry one. Wont you?

Of course· Why?

It was hard to tell what kinds of thoughts were taking shape behind those void-black Klingon eyes. Worf
seemed to straighten a little in preparation for his next remark.

There are few situations that do not have at least the potential to become dangerous. An allyone who
is immediately accessiblemay prove quite valuable should trouble arise.

Riker was touched by the offer. But he didnt say so. It would only have embarrassed Worf, and to a
Klingon, being embarrassed was worse than being flayed alive. The latter situation, at least, was
something they were emotionally equipped for.

I dont think the Federation had it in mind for anyone besides me to go. Besides, Im in good hands.
Ive been assigned someone who works for Criathis, the madraga from which the seal was stolen.

Someone whoworks there? said Worf, his voice dripping with disdain.

Were not talking about a bureaucrat, advised Riker. Hes a retainera lifelong employee of the
madraga, specially trained to protect the house, its officers, and its interests in any way necessary.
That includes hand-to-hand combat, the use of weapons, clandestine operations . . . Come to think of it,
these retainers have a lot in common with security officers.

The Klingon grunted at the gibe. But they arenot security officers. Obviously he was unimpressed.

No, agreed the first officer. Theyre not. Nor do they operate by the same set of rules. But from
what I saw during my last visit to Imprima, they are quite effective.

Worf did not belabor the point. He rose, considering Riker past the high bony ridge of his nose.

If you find this retainer is insufficient . . . He shrugged again. I do not expect that I will be
otherwise occupied.

The human stood, too. This time, he had to saysomething . I appreciate that, Mr. Worf.

Without another word, the Klingon turned and walked out of the cabin. The door yielded at his approach
and remained open for a second or two after he was gone. Thats how brisk his exit was.

Riker marveled at his luck. What had he done to deserve a friendship like Worfs?

Or for that matter, like Teller Conlons?

Perhaps, in Tellers case, not enough. He hoped it wasnt too late to make up for that deficit.

We did it, Will. We actuallydidit.

Looks that way, doesnt it?

I mean we honest-to-Goddidit!

I think you said that already.

Teller grinned that grin that drove women wild. He set his glass down, leaned back in his chair and ran
freckled fingers through thick reddish blond hair. I wish I could see the faces of the Ferengi when
they get the news. Are they going to be fuming or what?

Fuming? You think so? Just because they lost one of their primary sources of hydranium and dolacite?
You think thats going to bother a philosophical bunch like the Ferengi?

They laughed. And laughed again.

Heads turned. A couple of women, one in the red of Terrin and another in the green of Ekariah, seemed to
share in their amusement.

Riker lifted his glass to them. Terrin and Ekariah on friendly terms. What doesthattell you?

It tells me that now Terrin s got more influence than Rhurig has. At least withEkariah.

A small space in time, filled with music and the sound of someone singing. Riker took it all in.

You know, Teller, Ive enjoyed this. I really have. But itll be good to get back to theYorktown.

Sure, real good. Ill bet youve missed the hell out of Captain Leadbelly.

Thats Ledbetter to you, Lieutenant. And maybe I havent missed him, but Ive missed a lot of other
things. You know what I meanbeing out there. Riker blushed. You know what I mean.

Teller nodded. Yes. You can spare me the John Masefield bit. Ive been there, just as you have. Ive
whispered my share of secrets to the stars. He seemed to withdraw a little; his eyes sought the table
between them. Naturally that makes it a bit more difficult . . .

Riker looked at him. Makes what a bit more difficult?

His friend met his gaze. Im staying, Will. Ive signed on as permanent trade liaison to Imprima.

What?

Its true. Everythings been approved, top to bottom. A pause. You knew they were looking for
somebody; I just threw my name in the hat. Another pause. Whod have believed theyd actually give it
to me?

Riker felt empty inside, as if hed been betrayed somehow.

I dont get it, Teller. Arent you the one who said to throttle you if you eventhoughtof becoming a
diplomat? What happened to all that?

For once his friend was at a loss for words. He shook his head. I dont know, Will. Its just that . .
. damn, I feel as if I belong here. Like these people are my people. He shook his head again. And
maybe I can do the Federation some good as a liaison. Lord knows, I wont do that serving on a
starshipnot the way you will.

Come on, Teller. They didn t make you a lieutenant for the hell of it.

We both know why they made me a lieutenant, my friend. So lets not use that as an argument.

Im not talking about Gamma Tobin. Im talking about your whole career. Youve shown as much promise as
anyone.

Teller smiled ruefully. No, I havent. But thats not even the point. Im not running away from
Starfleet by taking this post. Dammit, I was happy in Starfleet. But now Ive found something that makes
me happier. A lot happier.

Silence.

Give me a break, Will. Cant a man want a change? Cant he love something that doesnt move at the
speed of light?

Not this man, Riker told himself. But then, he and Teller werent Siamese twins. They were two different
peoplemore different, perhaps, than hed allowed himself to admit.

All right, he said finally. If thats what you really want . . . hell, do it.

More silence.

Hey, dont give me the cold shoulder, all right? I wanted to tell you about this sooner. But I was . .
. well, I was scared. I thought you might talk me out of it. A pause. Dont hold that against me, for
Gods sake.

Riker grunted. He looked into his friends eyes, and the anger left him. Ive got enough to hold
against you, you slimy bastard. You think I need something else to add to the list?

Then youre not mad?

Im not mad.

Teller blinked. His eyes seemed bluer than ever. Good. Damn good. But I want you to prove it. Drink a
toast to the new trade liaison to the planetary government of Imprima. 

They raised their glasses and drank.

Not as good as that stuff you brought up from Dibdina. 

Teller smiled. Nope. Nothing was as good as that stuff.

What was that toast you made, then? To the art of the . . . something. I forget.

Me, too. But what the hell, it was just a toast. Theres plenty more where that came from. Teller
looked at him. Keep in touch, Will. Dont be a stranger.

I promise.

Ill hold you to it.

Listengive these Impriman ladies a break, all right? Without me to chaperon you, you might get into
all kinds of trouble.

Im looking forward to it, son. Looking forward to it indeed.

As the holodeck doors slid away, the android stepped inside. He found himself in a roomful of lockers.

At one end of the room a man sat watching two other men converse on a primitive video monitor. The
watcher had his feet up on a chair.

Sure, he said. A beautiful day for baseball. And if it stays that way, Ill eat my shorts. Hell, Ill
eatyour shorts.

Data approached, took up a position to one side of the fellow. It wasnt long before his presence was
noted.

The man turned a pinched face to him, looked at the android through squinty eyes. You the new kid? he
asked. Whats his nameBogdonovich?

Was that a persona that Commander Riker had picked out for himself? There was only one way to be
certain.

Stop program, he said. Suddenly the man with the pinched face came to a dead stopnot that he had been
moving that much to begin with. Query, said Data. An individual named Bogdonovichis this the role
Commander Riker had intended to play?

Affirmative, responded the computer in its pleasant female voice. Bobo Bogdonovich. No other
information included in program. Shall I access main data banks?

No, said the android. That will not be necessary. For the time being he knew all he needed to know.
Resume program.

The man came to life again. He had asked a question; he was expecting an answer.

Yes, said Data. I am Bogdonovich. But you may call me Bobo.

The man pointed past the android to one of the lockers along the wall. There ya go, Bogdonovich. Nice
fresh uniformTonellis old number. Hope its as lucky for you as it was for him. He glanced up beyond
a flight of stairs at a rectangle of pale blue sky framed in a doorway. Were gonna need all the luck
we can get.

Data walked over to the indicated locker. The uniform hanging inside it was red and blue; the word
Icebreakers was emblazoned on the shirt in flowing letters.

The android gathered that he was supposed to exchange his own clothes for these. Of course. One often
wore specialized attire when participating in sports.

Youd better get a move on, said the man in front of the video monitor. Theyre already halfway
through batting practice, and Terwilliger doesnt take kindly to rookies who waltz in late. Even if
theydid just get off the red-eye.

Data frowned. Rookie? Red-eye? He was unfamiliar with the terminology. But he sensed that it was not
essential for him to understand these termsnot yet, at any rate.

On the other hand, he had a feeling that he should learn more about Terwilliger, who seemed to be in a
position of some authority here. As he pulled off his Starfleet garb, Data decided that it might be more
challenging to glean the information from his companion than to query the computer again.

The android tried to effect a casual manner. Is this Terwilliger the kind of man they say he is?

The videoscreen watcher grunted loudly. You bet he is. Tough as nails. Mean as they come. He shrugged.
Course, Im no player. Im just the clubhouse man. I never get chewed out by Terwilliger. But Ive
seen plenty of those who have been.

Data didnt understand all the colloquialisms, but he got the gist of it. Apparently Terwilligers
management style was a bit different from that of Captain Picard.

Its really too bad, added the self-professed clubhouse man. After all hes been through, all those
seasons of finishing in the cellar, he finally had a shot this year. Probly his only shot. Put together
a damned fine teamSakahara, Kilkenney, Gilderbaum. Built up an eight-game lead. But he had too many
veterans; I could see that from the start. Came August, they started to drop like fliesa hamstring
here, a busted Wrist there. Before you know it, that lead starts to dwindle and . . . He stopped
himself, grinned a little sheepishly. Hell, I dont have to tellyou . You know the rest.

For a moment, Data thought he would have to ask another question to learn any more. But it turned out
not to be necessary. The man resumed of his own accord.

So now the whole seasonall hundred sixty-two gamescomes down to one measly playoff. And with the
walking wounded Terwilligers got out there today, itll be a wonder if we even finish the thingmuch
less win it.

The android had just slipped on the shirt with Icebreakers scrawled across the front of it. He reached
into the locker for his shoes and socks, all the while piecing the scenario together.

Then again, Bogdonovich, maybe youll make a difference. Maybe youll live up to those Triple A
clippings of yours and put a jolt in this teamand give Terwilliger a championship before he retires.
The man made a dry, cackling sound. Yeah. Maybe.

You do not seem hopeful, observed Data.

His source of information turned to look at him. You could say that.

But in any game, there is always an element of unpredictability. If there were not, there would be no
point in playing it.

A smile crept slowly over the clubhouse mans face. I didnt know you were a philosopher, kid. I kind
of like philosophersall flakes, in fact. They liven things up a little. Abruptly the smile vanished.
Just dont go spouting any philosophy in front of Terwilliger. He hates that stuff.

The android finished dressing and considered himself in the mirror. Actually, the uniform fit quite
well. But that was no surprisethe computer would have automatically tailored it to his physique.

If I were you, said the man, I wouldnt stand there admiring myself. You-know-who could come down
here any moment. And if he catches you preening like that, youll be riding the pines today, no matter
how bad he needs a third baseman.

Yes, said Data. Of course. Observing the clubhouse mans urgency, he headed for the wedge of blue
sky, which he gathered was in the direction of the playing field. As he got closer, he could hear what
sounded like surf on an ocean beach. It took him a moment to realize that it was an amalgamation of
human voicesa greatmany human voices.

Bogdonovich! Hey, Bobo!

The android stopped just shy of the threshold and turned around. Is something wrong? he asked.

Grumbling, the clubhouse man got to his feet. He walked over to Datas locker, took out something brown
and leathery-looking, and with a quick flip of his wrist sent it whirling in the androids direction.

Data snatched it in midair. It was some sort of glove, though it looked far too big for him. He looked
at the clubhouse man.

And thats the last time Im gonna fetch yet damned leather for ya. I dont care who you are.

My apologies, said the android. It will not happen again.

Then he turned around and followed the voices to their source.

Chapter Three

RIKER MATERIALIZEDin a large but seedy-looking hotel room. Long, open shutters on his right let in
shafts of ruddy sunlight and the sounds of a street clown shownot to mention a good cold breeze, which
turned his first planetside breath into a shivering wisp of frost vapor. The fireplace on his left was
stocked with wood, but unusedand had been for some months, judging by the rakannad webs that had
proliferated inside it.

He had forgotten how cold-blooded these Imprimans were.

Riker went to the window. Outside, there was snow on the ground, churned into mud around the clown show.
A couple of ascetics sat against a wall, apart from the festivity and the laughter, dressed in their
brown robes. Brightly colored balls rose into the iron gray sky and fell again. Everyone cheered except
the ascetics.

Nothing had changed.

Just as he thought that, he heard the scrape of footsteps in the next room. His partner, of course. The
retainer who would be working with him.

A figure emerged. He glanced at it over his shoulder.

And did a double take.

The newcomer was female.

That was evident from her smooth, pale skin, her sea green eyes and exotic cheekbones. It was evident in
her blue-black hair, pulled back to reveal ears like delicate little half-crowns.

She was not only female, but beautifulin a way that transcended Impriman standards.

Had OBrien screwed up the transport somehow? Was he in the wrong suiteor even the wrong hotel?

That was possible, but not probable. Theyd gotten the coordinates directly from Starfleet. And
OBriens performance had been impeccable up until now.

Was this female his partner, then? Perhaps thingshad changed around here.

She looked at him, placing her hands on her hips. She was dressed in rather unremarkable Besidian street
garb, just as he waslow boots, a belted tunic, a hooded cloak with the hood pulled down for now. Her
bare legs, he couldnt help but notice, were slender and shapely at the same time.

Youre staring, she said.

He felt his cheeks grow hot. Sorry, he said. 

You didnt expect to see a woman, did you?

Rikers first inclination was to deny his surprise. But that would only have made things worse.

No, he said. I didnt.

Thats all right, she told him, but there was a stiffness in her voice that belied the assurance. No
one expects a female retainer. Thats what makes me so effective. I can go places where Criathiss other
retainers cant. Or, as in this case, work on an investigation without drawing attention to the fact.

Makes sense. He nodded. Im

I know who you are. Lets just get started, shall we? She indicated a low-slung couch to one side of
the fireplace. Riker sat and tried not to stare again as she began to pace.

All right, said the woman, rubbing her hands together. Heres where we stand. As you already know, if
youve spent any time at all on this planet, a high-tech ban is imposed on Besidia during the Trade
Carnival. That means no weapons or other devices of the sort introduced into Imprima over the last seven
hundred yearsin deference to the age of wisdom that spawned the madraggi in the first place.

Another rule is that people can come in whenever they wantbut no one can leave. Thats not just a
customits enforced through the use of energy shields. Though of course they are dropped momentarily to
permit arrivals like yours.

Youre right, he said evenly. Im already aware of all this. Probably he should have just shut up
and listened. But he had the distinct feeling that he was being talked down to. Worse, it seemed to him
that she knew she was doing ithad, in fact, assumed this condescending attitude to mock him.

But why? Not over the issue of her sex, he hoped. He had apologized for that mistake already.

The Impriman went on as if hed never interrupted. Since Teller Conlon was entrusted with the sealafter
the beginning of the carnival, he couldnt have left Besidia with it. Therefore, it is somewhere within
the city limits. When we findhim , we findit and Ive already discovered a trail that may lead us to
him.

You sound certain that it was Conlon who took the seal, said Riker.

She regarded him. Arent you?

Far from it. If hes missing, its because he was kidnapped to make itlook as though he took the seal.

She grunted. I see. And his history of petty smuggling does nothing to make you doubt that?

He stared back at her.What history of petty smuggling?

The Impriman frowned slightly. My apologies. I thought you had been better informed by your Starfleet.
Pulling a leather wallet out of her tunic, she tossed it to him.

He caught it, opened it, and drew out its contents. Whats this? he asked her.

The details, she said, of Teller Conlons illegal activities, in which he used the power of his
office to amass personal wealth.

Riker pored over the information, aware that she was watching him the whole time, waiting to see his
reaction. Finally he replaced the material in the wallet and tossed it back to her. I dont believe
thisany of it. All it shows is that someones gone to great lengths to set up my friendcreated an
elaborate trail that would eventually lead to him. He shook his head. I just dont buy it.

The Impriman nodded. I was warned you might feel this way.

Whoever warned you was right. Im here to get Teller out of this mess safe and sound. Not to
participate in his incrimination.

The woman eyed him. Rest assured, she said, that Im a professional. Im not here to incriminate your
friend, just to conduct my investigation. Criathis will decide the question of guilt. And I think youll
agreewhether hes guilty or not, the discovery of Teller Conlons whereabouts may be of some importance
in recovering the seal.

Riker spread his hands. No argument there. You said you had a lead?

Yes. We can pursue it now, if you like. Or if you have some ideas of your own, I can pursue it by
myself.

Her tone was brisk, businesslike. But there was something veryun businesslike beneath it. Something
decidedly hostile.

No, said Riker. I think we can work on your idea. Together. He paused, seeking the right words. You
know, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot here. Its just that Teller Conlon is my friend
and

Yes, she interjected. You said that.

He looked at her, trying to remain calm and reasonable. So I did, he said. Clearing his throat, he
took another stab at it. Listentheres obviously something about me that bothers you. If its not my
belief in my friends innocence, then what is it? The fact that you caught me staring at your legs?

Her eyes narrowed. Are you sure you want to know?

Im sure.

Then know this, she said, the edge in her voice becoming even sharper. The theft of Fortunes Light
is an Impriman affair. It should be dealt with by Imprimans, not by offworlders who have passed through
on their way from one place to another. We are your allies, not your puppets. The muscles in her
temples rippled. The mere suggestion that we need the help of the Federation in this instance is . . .
irksome to me. More than thatits hateful. Her delicate nostrils flared. However, she said, and her
voice was calm again suddenly, as I told you, Im a professional, a retainer of Madraga Criathis. I
will carry out my assignment to the letter, no matter whom I must ally myself with.

Her declaration caught him a little off-balance. I see was all he could get out.

No doubt youre glad you asked.

Riker shrugged. Actually, I am. Its important for us to know each other, at least a little bit. He
managed a smile. What our names are, for instance.

Her features seemed to soften a bit.

He held out his hand. She took it, and her grip was stronger than hed anticipated. No shortage of
surprises in this retainer, no matter what her name was.

Im Riker, he said. Will Riker.

Yes, she told him. I know that. It was in my briefing. Im Lyneea Tal.

Pleased to meet you.

She took back her hand. Are you? I wouldnt have thought so, under the circumstances.

The circumstancesmeaning our apparent inability to agree on anything substantial?

She nodded. More or less, yes.

He grunted. So its not the most congenial of partnerships. We dont have to get alongwe just have to
do our jobs.

Lyneea eyed him. You make sensefor an offworlder.

Riker didnt take offense. Hed been called a lot worse. Thank you, he told her.

Troi sat in Beverly Crushers office going over her patient logs on the chief medical officers desk
monitor. Not, of course, that she needed to remind herself of anythingshed reviewed her notes as
recently as a few hours before. However, since the alternative was to sit and watch the med techs
continue their routine maintenance checks on the biobeds . . .

Deanna?

Troi looked up and saw her friend breeze into the room. Plunking herself down behind her desk, Crusher
took a deep breath and smiled.

Sorry, she said.

Troi smiled back. Thats all right. I had a lovely time gazing at the naked mechanisms of your biobeds.
Who would have thought that theyd be as fascinating inside as out?

Crushers hand shot to her chest, as if shed been stabbed. I stand accused, she said.

Troi looked forward to these periodic meetings with Crusherthese note-comparing sessions based on the
long-ago-accepted belief that maladies of the body and those of the mind were inextricably entwined. Nor
did she really mind that shed been kept waiting.

But the doctor would have been disappointed if she hadnt given her at least one friendly jab. After
all, what were friends for?

You werent delayed by anything serious, I trust?

Crusher sighed. That all depends. Is an obsessed teenager something serious?

The Betazoid pretended to ponder the question. Could be, she decided. Then: What is Wesley obsessed
with now?

Well, said her colleague, it all started when he was sitting on the bridge, watching Captain Picard
subtly maneuver Will Riker into telling him about his Priority One mission.

Oh, yes, said the counselor. The one Will didnt even confide inme about.

Crusher chuckled. As if hes going to make a Priority One mission common knowledge! Of course, its
that very secrecy that piqued Wesleys interest.

Ah, said Troi. Sothat is his obsession.

Crusher nodded. He was so wrapped up in the human interactions on the bridge, he overlooked the
substance of Wills summonsbut not for long. And when my son sinks his teeth into a mystery . . .

I understand, said the counselor. So it was difficult to tear yourself away.

Quite. Before I left the ship for Starfleet Medical, I mightve had an easier time of it. But hes so
independent now that when he does want to share something with me, I find it hard to say no.

Dont say another word, Troi told her. At least not by way of apology. Her smile broadened. If the
ships counselor cant be forgiving, who can?

Right, said Crusher, assuming a somewhat more professional demeanor. Then lets get down to
business. She activated another monitor, which resided on the bulkhead nearest her. Why dont we start
with Mukhurjee in engineering? She gave birth to twins recently. I think theres a little postpartum
depression setting in.

Yes, said Troi. I think youre right.

What do you think? asked Lyneea.

The dark tavern was packed full of simply dressed laborers, men and women puffing on nohnik pipes or
tossing back mugs of korsch. Imprimas working class, whether native or offworld-born, favored nothing
but the gloomiest of colors in their garb, so only their faces threw back the lurid light of the hanging
iekra lamps. Loud, wild music reverberated from wall to wall, punctuated by the cries of some rowdy
patrons seated deeper inside the low-ceilinged chamber.

But the sense that took the greatest beating was that of smell. The odors of nohnik and perspiration
made a potent combination, to say the least.

Back in the days when they were negotiating the trade agreement, Teller would have looked down his nose
at a place like this. His taste was for amber-toned parlors where everyone dressed in the gaudy hue of
his or her madraga and where power wafted on the air even thicker than the perfume.

Riker had always been a little uncomfortable in those establishments. Not that he hadnt enjoyed the
soft music and the rich light and the velvety skin of the madraga-dzins daughtersbecause he had.

But the power part hadnt intrigued him as it had his friend. Which was probably why Teller had been so
much better at negotiation with the leaders of Imprimahe was more in tune with their way of looking at
the world. . . .

The reception hall was Impriman through and through, right down to the thread of gold in the
furnishings. The tall open windows on the east wall let in the cold, crisp air and provided a glimpse of
the stars.

But even an offworlder could find warmth here. In the subtle potency of the drinks. In the gentle
intimacy of the music. And in the company.

Teller stared at a trio of young ladies as they made their way across the room. They wore yellow,
signifying their kinship with Madraga Alionis; the color seemed all the more vibrant against the
paleness of their perfect skin.

Im in heaven, he said.

No way, said Riker. Not unless theyve lowered the entry standards considerably.

Well, then, a reasonable facsimile thereof I mean, if these arent angels, Ill eat my communicator.

Which is back on the ship, thanks to the high-tech ban. Try again.

Teller shrugged. You get the idea.

Riker nodded. Dont forget, thoughthese are the daughters of the people were trying to impress. Lets
not offend anyone, shall we?

His friend looked hurtbut he wasnt very good at it. The twinkle in his blue eyes gave him away.

Will, old sod, if Im not the picture of propriety, who is?

Riker never got a chance to answer that, because Norayan answered it for him. It was as if shed
appeared from out of nowhere, tempting in the dusky blue of Criathis.

Id sooner trust an isak with a newborn muzza, she said, than turn you loose in a place like this.
She took Tellers arm. How did you get them to let you in? Either of you? Obviously they havent heard
about your exploits as I have.

Teller blushed. Come on, he said. That was just a line of malarkey. We were trying to impress you
back then.

And now? asked Norayan.

Now youre on to us. You know how harmless we are.

Riker grinned sheepishly in support of his friends claim.

Norayan shook her head, smiling too. Whatever will I do with you?

Teller tilted his head in the direction of the bar. You could introduce us to those young ladies.

Which? asked Norayan. The ones in yellow?

Teller looked at her ruefully.

Oh, she said. Thats rightsorry. I forgot you were . . . what did you call it? Color-blind?

Riker nodded. A small flaw in an otherwise perfect human being.

Teller laid a hand on his friends shoulder. You said it, not me. Now, are we going to get acquainted
with those lovelies or what?

You go ahead, said Riker. I want to talk with Norayan.

Teller eyed them with mock suspicion. Something going on that I dont know about?

Impossible. You know everything.

His friend sighed. Well, said Teller, if I cant get any moral support, Ill have to handle this
mission on my own.

And smoothing his uniform, he headed toward the ladies in yellow.

Hes one of a kind, Norayan said affectionately.

Riker grunted.

She turned to him. Now, do you really want to talk? Or do you plan to whisk me away to someplace
romantic?

Perhaps later. Right now I want to know if youve heard anything.

From my father? About the trade agreement? She shook her head. You would probably hear before I
would. Im just a madraga-dzins daughterfor now. Nobody tells me anything. She paused. Why? Have
matters taken a turn for the worse?

He used his eyes to point across the room at a large Impriman dressed in the black of Madraga Rhurig.
The man was loud and arrogant, but he was holding a group of green-robed Ekarians in thrall.

Norayan followed his gaze. Kelnae?

Riker nodded. Looks as if Rhurigs first official is gaining a following in Ekariah. Rumor has it he
won them over today. Convinced them that the Federation isnt interested in the industries they
control.

But the Federation is interested, said Norayan. Ekariah owns a bunch of dolacite mines.

Iknow that . Youknow that. But Kelnae has told them that the Federation has other sources of
dolacitecheaper sourcesand that the Ekarians cant compete. Judging by that crowd, Id say they bought
it.

Spiteful old man. Just because his madraga doesnt have anything to interest offworld traders

Doesnt mean he should deprive other madraggi of the opportunity. I agree. But that, apparently, is
just what he has in mind. And Kelnae can be persuasive, especially when he goes into his Imprima for
Imprimans speech. He bit his lip. In the end, it may not be a choice between us and the Ferengi.
There may be no offworld trading at all.

Norayan shook her head. I wouldnt worry about Kelnae if I were you. Madraggi like Rhurig are in the
minority. Almost everybody makes a profit from offworld trading, and profit is their main concern. They
may remain with the Ferengi, but there will be a trade agreement with someone.

Riker looked at her.

Sorry to have to put it that way, she said. Did you have any luck with Larrak?

I dont know. Terrin could do better with the Federation, but it could also do worse. And hes got a
pretty sweet deal right now. Why should he take a chance?

Norayan smiled. You dont understand us, Will. Not as your friend Teller does. Were a greedy bunch. If
theres a possibility of amassing greater wealth, well always take a chance.

She entwined her arm in his. Come on. Wipe that flown off your face and get me a drink. Then we can
watch Teller make a fool of himself with those girls from Alionis.

Riker chuckled as he let her guide him to the bar.

Riker? I asked you a question.

Will looked at Lyneea. I think Teller would have avoided this place like the worst variety of plague.

She accepted the assessment with equanimity. Nonetheless, this is a known meeting place for smugglers.
In fact, my informationwhich you disputeis that Conlon himself used to come here when he had something
to sell. She tilted her head to indicate the crowd. Youd be surprised at how many of these seemingly
innocent workers are actually agents of offplanet interestsone of the hazards of opening your world to
galactic trade, I suppose.

Riker ignored the bait. It was becoming plainer and plainer that Lyneea wasnt Imprimas biggest
xenophile.

So no matter what Tellers involvement is, someone here may know where to find him. And if we come up
empty regarding him, we may still dig up some information about Fortunes Light.

Thats the hope, yes. And remember, she added, as they made their way to the bar, let me do the
talking.

The floor, he assured her, is all yours.

Satisfied, she slung herself into a short-backed stool. Riker took the one beside it, eliciting a shrill
creak as he sat down. Imprimans tended to be long and wiry, and the stool obviously wasnt built to
accommodate someone of his bulk, even though there were plenty of non-Imprimans in the crowd.

Hed half expected to see Ferengi here as well. But of course there werent any. The madraggi had long
ago decided that if they had an agreement with the Federation, they didnt want Ferengi around to
undermine it. The same had been true for Federation personnel during the years the Ferengi held
exclusive trade rights.

Whats more, this rule was backed up by some pretty severe penalties, not only for offworlders in
violation but for any madraga found to be involved as well. Occasionally there were exceptions, but the
last one had been made five years ago, and he and Teller had been the beneficiaries of it.

The bartender came over when he saw them sitting there. His eyes sought out Rikers beneath the hood.
What can I get you? he asked.

Riker looked at Lyneea.

Korsch, she said crisply. Two.

The bartender moved down the bar, found a ruby-colored bottle and poured. The liquid caught a light from
somewhere and reveled in it.

Clunk. And again,clunk , as the second of two ceramic mugs met the bar in front of them. The bartender
raised his eyebrows, a reminder that the drinks werent free.

Riker reached into his tunic and took out a couple of the plastic chits that served as money on Imprima.
They were yellow, and stamped with the crest of Madraga Alionis, half a world away; there was no point
in giving away their association with Criathis by paying with Criathan money.

Without a word the Impriman swept up the chits and placed them in an open stoneware trough suspended
from the wall in back of him. In the places Riker had visited during his first sojourn on this planet,
the troughs had been elaborately decorated, sometimes rendered in the shape of a fanciful bird or beast.
Here it was simply a trough, and not a very clean one at that.

Lyneea picked up her korsch and tossed her head back, downing half the mugs contents at a swallow. The
human flinched inwardly at the quantity of warm red liquid in his own mug, sniffed at the pungent scent
of it.

He had never been very fond of the stuff, even in delicate little snifters. To him it tasted like
vinegar straight up.

Oh, well, he told himself. When in Rome . . .

The korsch was just as strong as he remembered. Taken half a mug at a shot, it was comparable to a small
landslide.

Eyes smarting, throat closing so that he could barely breathe, Riker replaced the mug on the bar. His
head swam dangerously, but he weathered the storm until his senses reestablished themselves.

Whew. Synthehol, it was not.

His ears having relented in their ringing, the human was able to detect the beginnings of a conversation
that Lyneea had apparently managed to strike up with the bartender.

Too bad, she said.

What is? asked the one behind the bar. We were looking for a friend, but I dont see him. You were
supposed to meet him here?

Lyneea shook her head. Not exactly. He didnt know we were coming. But Im sure hed have been glad to
see US.

The cries in the back of the room rose in a sudden crescendo and died just as quickly. The bartender
glanced in that direction, and a slow smile took charge of his mouth.

Whys that? he asked absently.

Lyneea shruggeda small, economical gesture. Business, she said.

That seemed to get the bartenders attention again. His eyesas green as Lyneeaswere now riveted to
her, though his sideways-leaning stance remained casual.

This friend, he said. How well do you know him?

Another shruga little broader. Not well at all, actually.

The bartender regarded her. Know his name? Teller Conlon.

Thats what I thought. Hell be here later.

Lyneea nodded. Any idea how much later?

The bartender seemed to pull back a little at that. Had she pushed too hard? Riker wondered.

No idea, said the man. With a nod of his head, he indicated the small crowd at the back of the tavern.
Why dont you partake of the entertainment? Itll help pass the time.

And with that slow, small smile reemerging, the bartender glided over to take care of another pair of
customers.

Riker peered at Lyneea from under his cowl. Good? Bad?

Somewhere in between, she told him. Were to face a test.

Oh? What kind of test?

Youll see in a moment. Lifting her mug, she quaffed the remainder of her drink, then looked
expectantly at Riker. Well? she said, a little louder now. Dont you like korsch anymore?

On the one hand, the comment was directed toward anyone who might have been listeninga likely reaction
on Lyneeas part to his lack of eagerness in consuming his drink. Human or not, a working-class Joe in
Besidia would have been expected to have developed a taste for korschand in fairly large quantities. It
came with the territory.

On the other hand, Lyneeas comment was a gibe at his offworldliness and, by extension, at the absurdity
of asking an outsider to do an Imprimans job.

No questionhewas out of his element here. But then, their search for his friend had only just begun.

Again resisting a return comment, Riker picked up his mug and drained it. This time, expecting the
maelstrom, he was able to tolerate it a little better.

In fact, he slid out of his seat before his partner did, albeit on legs that were not quite steady.
After you, he said, gesturing to the group in the back.

She glanced at himperhaps with a touch more respect, it was hard to telland led the way. Riker
followed.

About halfway to their destination, she slowed down, allowing him to catch up. He gathered that this was
a better time for an explanation, away from the bartender as well as the barflies. Away, also, from the
greatest concentration of tables.

So? he said.

Lyneea spoke in a low voice so that only he could hearand even then, only barely. The bartender has
never seen us in here before, and he knows were asking questions that could get someone in trouble. So
he has opted not to take sole responsibility for giving us the answers; he wants to run us past his
board of review. And by looking straight ahead, she showed Riker what constituted the board of review:
the knot of patrons in the back of the room.

As before, their voices rose, cutting through the overall din, and subsided after a moment or two. Riker
could tell now that they were gathered around something, but he couldnt tell what.

As he and Lyneea approached, he got a better idea.

There was a pit in the back of the tavern, cut somewhat haphazardly into the floor. Inside it, leaping
and snarling, was a black and sinewy isak.

Unlike the big ones Riker had seen used as watchdogs and zoo exhibits, this isak was barely an adult.
But still, it must have stood a good three feet high at its powerful shoulder, and it sported a
collection of teeth already too prodigious to fit easily into its cruel, blunted snout.

Whats more, the isak was spitting mad, its blood lust fanned to a frenzy, and for good reason. An
Impriman had been lowered into the pit and was being passed around its perimeter, from one pair of hands
to the next, his heels dangling just inches above the swiping paws of the enraged beast.

Will took Lyneeas arm, and she looked up at him. This, he asked, is what were supposed to take part
in? This is our test?

She nodded. Well put our lives in the hands of these people. If none of them have a reason to distrust
usand they should have no such reasonwe will come through unscathed. However, if one of them believes
that we are dangerous or that we are something other than what we seem . . . She regarded Riker
meaningfully. Someones hands may slip. It will be officially considered an accident.

He looked at the pit and the isak, then back at Lyneea. How often does one of theseaccidents take
place?

Not often. But then, one does not generally offer oneself up if there is a possibility of slippery
hands.

Riker winced a little as the animals claws raked the boot of the Impriman suspended over the pit. The
man pulled his feet up instinctively, and the crowd lifted him another hands breadth.

And in our case? he asked. What are the chances of someone here knowing what were about?

She shook her head. Its highly unlikely. Weve taken every precaution to keep our mission a secret. Of
course, if you are concerned about your safety, I can go first.

Will felt the heat of his machismo rising into his face.

No, he told her. It will be my pleasure.

A couple of moments later the Impriman in the pit was raised upsweat dripping off him, a rictus of a
grin on his face.

Whos next? called a tall, broad-shouldered Pandrilite. He looked around the group that circled the
pit. Whos got the guts?

As if echoing the question, the isak snarled. It was a sound like ripping metal.

I do, said Riker, turning sideways to cut a path through the tightly clustered bodies.

Suddenly all eyes were on him, sizing him up, trying to figure out why a man who wasnt even drunk yet
would want to take his chances in the pit.

But at least some of them had figured it out, because they were looking in the bartenders direction.
Looking and understanding.

All right, said the Pandrilite. Step right up and have your heels cleaned.

With a last glance at Lyneeawhose grin might not have been all for showhe took hold of the
Pandrilites hand and then that of someone elsea Maratekkan, but thankfully a big one.

If he thought they were going to lower him slowly, he had another think coming. For a fraction of a
second he felt as if they had simply thrown him to the beast.

Instinctively he brought his knees up, tried to grab for the edge of the pit. But they hadnt let go of
him after all.

The isak leapt and snapped, and he could feel its muzzle brush the soles of his boots, just barely feel
it, as if a feather had touched him, instead of the business end of a flesh-and-blood killing machine.

Then the passing began, the hand-off from one sweaty grip to the next. Up top, the faces quickly became
indistinguishable from one another. Pandrilite blurred into Andorian, Andorian into Rhadamanthan,
Rhadamanthan into Impriman. Down below, the beast in the pit was death on a springleaping up for a meal
one moment, falling to earth the next.

The music and the laughter and the cries of encouragement made a din in his ears, amplified by the
korsch, punctuated by the isaks blood-stopping screams. A stench came up to him, of rotting meat and
animal droppings and Impriman parasites.

But underneath it all, underneath the madness, judgments were being made. Judgments that would determine
how close he came to those gnashing teeth and razor-sharp claws.

His arms and shoulders were growing sore from the strain; his lower back was aching. He felt a sharp
pain as a claw raked his anklenothing crippling, but bad enough to draw blood.

Damn, Riker. How could you let yourself be talked into this?

And then it happened. One hand let go of him. Another took its place, but it never got a good enough
grip. Whether the hand was too slick with perspiration or the slip was purposeful he would never know.

He swung sideways, held only by a single hand now, and glanced off the hard dirt wall of the pit, his
stretchedout rib muscles bellowing in agony. Felt the grip that was his only hope start to yield, unable
to bear his entire weight.

Riker heard someone shriekjust before he fell.

If it had all happened at once, he would have been isak meatperiod. But in the couple of seconds he
spent dangling by one hand, hed had time to prepare himself. To gather his wits.

So as he slid down the side of the pit, he was ready for the beasts frantic charge. As soon as he saw
the first hint of those hell-coal eyes, those flashing teeth, he ducked and rolled.

A bolt of black lightning struck the dirt wall where hed been, but by then he was on the other side of
the pit, trying to get his balance. The isak didnt waste any time. It whirled and pouncedthis time,
before he could quite set himself.

Somehow he managed to elude it again. His tunic was torn away where the beast had gotten its jaws into
it, but the body beneath seemed to be intact.

Riker hadnt expected to survive one charge, much less two. By the time the isak collected itself a
third time, he knew hed run out of luck.

Panting, trembling with his exertions, he couldnt scramble to his feet fast enough. He saw the beast
springa slavering, roiling mass of coal-black furyand braced himself as best he could.

The animal was heavier than it lookedthe impact of its charge knocked the breath out of him. He fell
back against the pit wall, wrestling with the isak, trying to keep its nightmare of a muzzle away from
the soft flesh of his throat.

Strangely it wasnt all that difficult. In fact, it was laughably easy. The isak wasnt struggling at
all.

The damned thing was unconscious! Something had stunned it as it went for him.

Thrusting the beast off him, Riker looked up. And saw confusion among the revelersthe turning of heads
to determine who had ruined their fun.

But Riker knew who it had been. The same slender Impriman who now leaned out from the brink of the pit
and offered him her hand.

In her other hand, he saw, was a crude-looking pistol, which she was just now restoring to its place of
concealment. The weapon was primitive enough, no doubt, to get around the Besidian prohibition against
high technology at carnival time. If he searched the pit, hed probably find the projectile that had
knocked out the isak.

Nice shot, he told her as he accepted the offer of help. Though it might have come a few seconds
sooner.

Stop talking, she said, and start climbing. If we hurry, we can turn this fiasco into something
productive.

Lyneea proved stronger than she looked. Bracing herself, she gave him all the leverage he needed to
scramble up the wall and out of the pit.

Productive? he asked, brushing himself off, feeling the pain in his ankle now where the beast had
clawed him. He returned a couple of the stares he was getting from disgruntled patrons as they
complained about the unfair use of a gun against a poor defenseless isak.

Yes, she said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him after her through the crowd. Productive. Nobody
here is going to talk to us, not after you failed their sincerity test. She shoved aside a fellow
Impriman whod made the mistake of getting in her way. But just as you fell into the pit, I saw someone
bolt out of here. And if Im not mistaken, it was the muzza who dropped you.

Riker caught her drift. Anyone might have let him slipall it meant was that they didnt like the smell
of him. But to drop him and then runthat suggested something more. That suggested a measure of guiltif
they were luckyin the matter of Teller Conlon and Fortunes Light.

Suddenly he and Lyneea were out of the tavern and into the frigid white vault of Besidia. She let go of
his wrist, scanned the snow-covered ground for a moment, and pointed.

There were lots of footprints there, but most of them had been filled in with drift. Only one set stood
out clear and distinct, fresh as babys breath and twice as sweet.

Without another word, Lyneea took off along the path described by the tracks. They led across a small
plaza into a benighted alleyway, but that didnt seem to daunt her one bit.

Riker couldnt stand there while his reluctant companion was giving chase. Tugging his tunic closed
where the isak had ripped it open, he plunged after her into the shadows.

Chapter Four

BASEBALL WASone of the topics for which Data had no references in his positronic memory. But in the
short time since hed left the locker room, he had managed to learn a great deal about it. First, during
batting practice, he had observed and familiarized himself with its component actspitching, hitting,
running, throwing, and catching, all of which had been in progress on one part of the field or another.

Then came the more difficult partidentifying the games objectives and rules. He could deduce some of
that from the physical characteristics of the playing field and even more from offhand references made
around the batting cage. The android had been able to clear up much of his confusion through casual
conversations with the other players. He also found out that, due to the injuries the clubhouse man had
referred to, Terwilliger had no choice but to start him in this game.

However, even after the game began, there were gaps in Datas comprehension. So during the first half of
the first inning, while he stood beside third base with his glove on his hand, he observed as carefully
as he couldnot only the occurrences at home plate but also those on the pitchers mound, in the field,
on the scoreboard, and even in the stands.

Before he knew it, however, his teammates were trotting off, abandoning their positions. Taking the
hint, he trotted off with them.

But no sooner was he in the dugout than Terwilliger grabbed him by his shirtfront. The man was half a
head shorter than Data, with a rounded physique that one did not associate with physical presence. But
there was something about Terwilligers eyes that the android found compelling.

Listen, he said, you cocky son of a bitch, I dont know where you think you are, but I want that
empty, echoing head of yours in the game!

In the game? the android repeated, groping for comprehension. Here, as elsewhere, much of the
vernacular still eluded him.

Thats right, you worthless heap of Triple A garbage! Here you are, a rookie, privileged to play in a
game like this one, and youre staring at the sky, the standseverywhere but where youshould be staring!
Those guys know youre a green apple. You think theyre not going to test you? Maybe lay down a little
ol bunt and see how badly you trip over your feet trying to come up with it?

It took Data a moment to glean some sense out of Terwilligers tirade. Are you suggesting, he asked,
that my attention should have been more focused? Actually I would welcome any recommendations in that
regard.

The mans face seemed to change colors then. Yes, decided the android. It was noticeably redder,
noticeably darker.

Is thatback talk ? he asked, in a hushed voice.

Data shrugged. I do not know what back talk is. I was merely attempting to improve my understanding of
baseball.

Terwilligers eyes narrowed. He seemed to hesitateas confused, in a way, as Data himself. When he
spokenot to the android, but to one of his coacheshis voice was still hushed, but it had a cutting
edge to it.

Is this guy for real? he asked.

They say he is, came the response. And, Willie, we need a guy with some punch in the lineup.

Terwilliger spat. He turned to Data again. Tell you what, Bogdonovich. I got a game to manage here. But
well discuss this lateryou can be sure of that.

Thank you, said the android. Naturally he understood that the man was preoccupied with the situation
at hand. His questions could wait. He was grateful that Terwilliger was offering to answer them at all.

As Data watched the manager stalk off, he reflected that he was already profiting from this holodeck
experience. Terwilligers management stylewas different from Captain Picardsvastlydifferent. His
approach seemed to hinge more on emotion and physical confrontation than on confidence and clear
thinking. It was most intriguing.

Suddenly there was a hand on Datas shoulder. He turned and traced it to its ownerDenyabe, the second
baseman.

Pay no attention, said the black man, grinning. You just play your game.

Recognizing it for the encouragement it was, the android smiled back and watched Denyabe stride out onto
the field, bat in hand.

Removing his glove, Data chose a spot on the bench and sat down. As the Icebreaker second baseman
approached the plate, the crowd responded with a huge roar. It could be felt in the vibration of the
stadium structure as well as heard.

Cordoban, the left fielder, had explained to Data during batting practice that this was the Icebreakers
home field. Therefore the spectators were expected to cheer for them more than for the visitors, though
after the Icebreakers spate of defeats in recent weeks, the fans were as likely to jeer as to provide
positive reinforcement.

Apparently, in Denyabes case, the crowd had decided to be charitable. The android heard nothing but
accolades.

Nor did their optimism go unrewarded. On the very first pitch Denyabe drove a ball between the shortstop
and the third baseman. It bounced twice before it reached the outfielder, and by that time Denyabe had
reached first base.

It was, as Data had learned earlier, a singlea promising development, though one that did not
necessarily result in a score. That would depend on the success of the batters who followed.

The next man in the lineup was Sakahara, the Icebreaker catcher. He walked with a slight limp, and his
left wrist was tapedreflecting injuries that had hampered his performance of late and contributed to
the teams decline. Or so the android gathered from his conversations with the clubhouse man and others.

If Sakahara gets some hits, we win. That had been Cordobans opinion, expressed as they watched the
catcher take batting practice. He goes hitless, we lose. Its that simple.

With that in mind, the android was intent on Sakaharas performance. Apparently, so was the opposing
team; as the first pitch was delivered, the infielders participated in a complicated maneuver that had
the first and third basemen approaching the batter rather precipitouslywith little regard, it appeared,
for their safety.

A second later Data saw the reason for the moveas Sakahara squared around to bunt. However, after the
ball hit his bat, it plunked down in foul territory.

Stee-rike! called the umpire.

On the next pitch, the fielders shifted again, and again Sakahara failed to bunt effectively. This time,
in fact, he missed the ball entirely.

Stee-rike two!

The crowd responded by hooting volubly. It was an unpleasant sound. For Sakahara it must have been even
more so.

On the third pitch he was not expected to bunt. As Data had learned, one did not bunt with two strikes.
If the ball went foul, it would mean the end of the batters opportunity to score runs for his teamat
least until it was his turn again to bat.

This time the infielders remained at their positions. No one charged toward home plate.

Then, to everyones surprise, Sakahara bunted down the third base linea fair ball. Limp and all, he
raced toward first base while Denyabe headed for second.

Caught unaware, the opposing teams third baseman started in for the ball. However, by the time he
picked it up, he was too late to make a play. Both Sakahara and Denyabe had secured safe positions on
their respective bases.

The hit was a source of great satisfaction to all in the Icebreaker dugout as well as to the crowd.

Only Terwilliger seemed unencouraged by it. He just glared at Data.

You see? he said, pointing to the field of play as he approached the android. The third baseman was
in dreamlandjust like you, Bogdonovich. If hed known anything about Sakahara, hed have charged that
ball and nailed him at first. Take a lesson, rookie. And get your rear end out to the on-deck circleor
do I have to get someone to show you where it is?

Data held up his hand. That will not be necessary. I know where it is.

Terwilliger looked at him. That was allhe just looked at him. His eyes seemed rounder than usual, and
they were red around the edges.

Come on, one of the coaches said to Data. Get out of here before Terwilliger has a heart attack.

Like much he had encountered in this program, Data didnt understand the implied causality of the
remark. But it was his turn to be on deck, so he chose a bat from the rack and headed for the
appropriate spot.

In the meantime, the Icebreakers first baseman, a big fellow named Galanti, had come up to bat. The
first pitch thrown to him was a balla term that Data had thought a bit obvious until he learned its
specialized meaning. The second pitch, too, was a ball.

Awright! came a cry from the dugout. You got im where you want im!

Your pitch! came another cry. Wait for your pitch!

On the next offering, Galanti swung. It was a prodigious stroke that turned him almost completely
around.

It did not propel the ball very far or very fast, however. The pitcher fielded it on one hop. He threw
to second and the shortstop relayed to first.

Double play.

The crowd made clear its dissatisfaction. It was a loud and infelicitous sound.

Data understood that the play had expended two of the three outs they were allowed in this inning.
However, it hadnt been completely counterproductive. Wasnt Denyabe standing on third base?

Nor did it take a computer to calculate what the score would be if Data stepped up to the plate now and
hit a home runsomething of which he felt fully capable. Certainly he had had no trouble hitting them in
batting practice.

Nonetheless, the android had hardly left the on-deck circle when his teammates began shouting advice to
him from the dugout.

Okay, Bobo, a little single!

Just a single, baby! Bring that run in!

Data was a bit surprised. But of course there were undoubtedly nuances of the game that he did not yet
comprehend. If a single was preferable to a home run in this instance, he would do his best to hit a
single.

Taking his cue from Denyabe, the android resolved to hit the first pitch that came his way. The ball was
hardly out of the pitchers hand before he had gauged its velocityninety-seven miles an houras well as
its mass, its trajectory, and the point at which it would cross home plate.

Reaching out, he stroked the ball into center field and started off for first base. Out of the corner of
his eye, he could see Denyabe jogging home with the first score of the contest.

The crowd exploded with approval. However, as Data rounded first base, he saw that the opposing teams
center fielder had misplayed the ball. It had glanced off his glove and dribbled a few feet away from
him.

The android knew he had to keep going. One could not remain on any given base when there was an
opportunity to advance to the next one.

Yet his teammates hadspecifically called for a single. If he went on, it would become a doubleand he
had no idea what effect that might have on the fate of the Icebreakers.

It was an agonizing moment. Surely itseemed that going to second base would be a good thing. But then,
it hadseemed that a home run would be preferable to a single, and yet his teammates had indicated
otherwise.

Torn, Data hesitatedand finally decided to follow his instincts. As the center fielder pursued the
rolling ball, he took off for second base. Halfway there, he saw that the ball had been recovered.

He took a few more steps, then dove. The throw was made; the ball came in low and true, beating Datas
hand to the base by the merest fraction of a second.

Both Data and the shortstop looked up at the umpire. The man didnt do anything right away. The
respective arrivals of Data and the ball would have appeared simultaneous to the human eye.

Despite that, the umpire came to a decisionand, as it happened, the correct one. Pumping his thumb in
the air, he cried, Yerrout!

The crowd uttered unkind comments at the upper limits of their vocal range. But the opposing team was
quite happy as it left the field.

Data was happy, too. He had done his best to reach the next base safely, as the rules seemed to dictate.
And yet, he had complied with his teammates exhortations by limiting his hit to a single.

In light of all this, he expected that there would be some back-patting in store for him in the
Icebreaker dugout. However, as he approached it, Galanti came loping out with his glove.

Here, he said, tossing it to the android. You dont want to go in therebelieveme, you dont.

Before he turned and headed for his position at third base, Data got a glimpse of what his teammate was
talking about. Terwilliger, it appeared, was livid. But for the two coaches restraining him, he looked
as if he might have leapt out of the dugout and come after Data with a bat.

The android frowned. Obviously he still had a lot to learn.

Save program, he said, and exited the holodeck.

The air was cold; it rasped in Rikers throat as he ran down the long, winding alley, just a couple of
strides behind Lyneea. Nor could he have easily caught up if hed wanted toLyneea was a lot more
surefooted than he was in the soft snow that had accumulated here.

As a youngster, he would undoubtedly have done better. But it had been a long time since hed had a
chance to skid and slosh through the kind of half-frozen soup one used to find in the streets of Valdez.

His senses alert, Riker found himself noticing minutiae that were irrelevant to the task at hand. Like
the way Lyneea trailed white wisps of breath that dissipated before he could reach them. Or the way her
heels threw up little white rooster tails, her footprints mingling with those of the one they
soughtthough there was no confusing them. Hers were slender and shallow, his deep and extremely wide.

Up ahead, Riker saw an opening off to one side. Another alleyway? He wondered if shed spotted it,
toothen was certain she had, for she slowed down, angled closer to the wall, and stopped running.

Sure enough, the bigger set of footprints ran around that corner. Lyneea took out her projectile gun
again, shot a glance at him.

He had no trouble deciphering her message:Be careful. Were getting closer .

Riker was glad shed suddenly become concerned about his welfare. Maybe she thought that a single close
call a night was all one should have to put up witheven if onewas an offworlder.

Hugging the stones that made up the wall, Lyneea stuck her head around the corner. She took a moment to
peer into the shadows.

Then, apparently satisfied that the coast was clear, she swung herself into the alley.

It was almost the last thing she ever did. Only sheer luck kept her from being cut to ribbons by the
bright-blue blaster beams that fried the air all around her.

Riker reached out and caught Lyneeas tunic. As he reeled her in, a beam caught the corner theyd been
waiting behind and shattered some of the stones, sending splinters flying in every direction.

Lyneea pushed herself away from Will and cursed.

Problem? he asked, unable to resist.

So it would seem.

Silence. The fugitive with the blaster was biding his time, knowing he had the superior firepower or
they would have struck back without hesitation.

I guess not everybody takes the high-tech ban seriously, he observed.

She grunted.

So what now?

She thought for a moment. Hes not going anywhere, not on a bellyful of korsch, anyway. If he could
have gone on, he wouldnt have bothered to stop in the first place. She chewed her lip, then abruptly
thrust her projectile weapon into Rikers hand.

You know how to use this? she asked.

He turned it over. Doesnt look too complicated. Eight chambers, seven projectiles left. He wasnt
exactly an expert in antique arms, but hed seen a few in his day.

Good, she said. Then use it to keep our fugitive distracted.

Does that mean youre leaving me? Just when we were starting to work so well together?

Glowering at him, the Impriman seemed about to say something, then thought better of it. Without
warning, she bolted across the mouth of the perpendicular alleyway, drawing a barrage of sizzling
blaster fire from their prey, and kept on going. In a few seconds she reached the opening at the far end
and disappeared.

Riker appreciated the simplicity of Lyneeas plan: circle around behind their blaster-happy friend and
catch him unaware. But her strategy was dangerous as all hell.

Which was why it was so important to do as Lyneea had instructedkeep their fugitive busy, so he
wouldnt realize that one of his pursuers might be plying the alleys to outmaneuver him. And waste her,
perhaps, as she came creeping up on him.

However, at this range, Lyneeas pop pistol was fairly useless. One or two shots and their friend in the
alley would know that and take off again, confident that they couldnt stop him. And if Riker didnt
shoot at all, the fellow would come to the same conclusionmaybe even faster.

He needed to get closer to his target, but not so close he would scare him off and ruin Lyneeas
approach.

Quickly Riker peered around the half-destroyed cornerand almost paid the price for it. But just before
the cornerstones erupted again in an explosion of blue light, he caught a glimpse of something helpful.

A row of large metal containers, mantled in shadow, stood against one wall of the alley. Overflowing
with discarded clothes and ruined furniture and all sorts of less easily identifiable things that might
or might not have been Impriman foodstuffs at one time. In a warmer climate, he thought, the stench
would have been unbearable.

But that wasnt significant right now. Whatwas significant was that those containers looked solid enough
to withstand a blaster barrage, at least for a while.

Oh, what the hell, he thought.Whats a poker game without a bluff or two ?

As he darted out from cover, the one with the blaster seemed to go berserk. There were beams all around
him, carving up the alley walls and the ground beneath his feet and eliciting a scream from the very
atoms in the air as they were torn one from the other.

Riker rolledonce, twicescrambled to his feet and lunged for the nearest container. He miscalculated
and came up against it harder than hed intended, rattling his teeth with the impact. But after a quick
inventory, he found that he was still in one piece, unscathed by the blue light beams. Better than
thatwith all the adrenaline pumping through him, his ankle had stopped smarting.

The blastermans weapon fell silent again. Was he waiting for Riker to come out from behind the
container? Probably. Was he wondering where his Impriman companion was? Maybe that, too.

Riker couldnt allow him time to wonder. Leaning out past the container, he peered into the shadows and
got off a shotnot that he had any hope of actually hitting anything. To do that, one generally had to
see ones target.

Nothing. No response.

Could it be that the fugitive had already fled?

Riker knew he couldnt take that for granted, but he couldnt just sit there, eitherso he left the
protection of the container, took a couple of steps, and launched himself in the direction of the next
one.

This time he didnt hit the container so hard. He was getting better with practice. Brushing some of the
larger clumps of slush from his tunic, he lay on his belly and listened.

Still nothing. But for the sound of Rikers own breathing, the alley was preternaturally quiet.

Damn. Could I have spooked him so easily?

But he wasnt going to jump to any conclusions. Maybe something had gone wrong with the blaster. Maybe
it needed a new batteryand was getting one right now.

He took a deep draft of the frigid air, expelled it, and scuttled out from behind the second container.
The hairs at the nape of his neck prickled with a sudden premonition of disaster; if the blasterman was
still there, Riker was getting devilishly closeprobably too close for the fugitive to miss.

Spurred by the eerie feeling that hed bluffed his way into a trap, he wasted no time flinging himself
behind the third container.

But the reaction was the same: nonexistent. The impression of imminent peril faded rather quickly.

In fact, he was starting to feel silly. To feel certain that their prey had departed, leaving him here
to play hide-and-seek with refuse containers.

Then the real fireworks started.

In the next fraction of a second Riker realized that ithad been a trapjust not the kind hed expected.
The force generated by the blaster at this range was enough to topple the massive container and send it
crashing down on him, garbage and all. He tried to get out of its way, but it fell too quickly and
before he knew it, he was pinned under the container, fighting to keep it from crushing him altogether.

That was the moment in which the fugitive chose to reveal himself. He walked out from the shadows,
blaster at the ready, seeming to take his time.

Riker tried to free himself, to roll the weight of the container off him, but it was hard work. Slow
work. He couldnt seem to get enough air into his lungs; his chest seemed to be caught in a vise. And
the fellow with the blaster was getting closer all the time.

He had no idea what had happened to his projectile gun, nor would it have helped him much nowhe needed
both hands to keep the container from caving his ribs in.

The fugitive came out of the shadows far enough for Riker to get a good look at him. A Pandrilite. Big,
heavysetLyneea had been right. He never could have outrun them.

And where in blazeswas Lyneea? He peered down the alley, saw no sign of her.

The Pandrilite smiled and aimed his weapon at Rikers face. He was standing no more than four meters
away now. There was no way he could miss.

Stop struggling, said the broad, bony face behind the blaster. It wont do you any good. Suddenly
the smile fell away. Wheres your friend?

Damned if I know, said Riker.

But just as he said it, there was a soft, scraping sound above themand something fell on the
Pandrilite, knocking the blaster out of his hand and bringing him to his knees. Something long-limbed
and, at a second glance, very Lyneea-like.

The two of them fell in a heap, the Impriman on top. Both went for the blaster; Lyneea got to it first.

All right, she told him. On your feetand over to that container. She indicated the one that was
still doing its best to compress Rikers anatomy.

The Pandrilite did as he was told.

Now help him remove it.

The Pandrilite stooped and, bringing his considerable strength to bear, gave Riker the leverage he
needed to roll the container off him. That was only fair, thought Will, since he had put it there in the
first place.

With an effort, Riker got to his feet and belted the Pandrilite, sending him staggering into a wall.

That, he said, was for dropping me into the isak pit.

The Pandrilite wiped his mouth and glared at him, but refrained from retaliating. After all, Lyneea
still had the blaster pointed at him.

Now, she said, smiling approvingly at Rikers outburst, I want to know what made you nervous enough
to drop my companion and flee the tavern.

The Pandrilites lip curled. He barked out one word: Raat.

Riker looked at Lyneea. The word didnt seem to mean anything to her, either.

Whatsraat ? she asked.

The Pandrilites eyes narrowed. You dont work for Drohner? he asked.

Ah, said Lyneea. Drohner. Sure, Ive heard of him. She turned to Riker. Big labor broker. Corrupt
as they come. Then she turned back to the Pandrilite. Whats he got to do with you?

The Pandrilite shrugged. I . . . crossed him. Organized a little labor crew of my ownan independent
called Raat. Its a Pandril word. Means freedom.  He spat. Drohner didnt like it. I heard he was
trying to find out more about me, maybe teach me a lesson. He stared at the Impriman. Yousure you
dont work for Drohner?

Positive, she said. If I did, would I have come after you with a projectile gun?

Realization dawned. Youre a retainer, he said.

Lyneea nodded. And I couldnt care less about Drohners difficulties in maintaining his monopoly. But I
do need information, and I think you can give it to me.

The Pandrilite straightened. What kind of information?

Were looking for someone named Teller Conlon, Riker cut in. Heard of him?

The Pandrilite was expressionless. Maybe. What do you want with him?

Riker shook his head. I asked you first.

The way I see it, Lyneea told her captive, you have a choice. You can be incarcerated for a little
while, for possession of a high-tech weapon during carnival time. Or we can contact Drohner and see if
we can do some business with him.

The Pandrilite measured her. You wouldnt.

Try me, she said.

A pause. All right. But I dont know very much about Conlon. Only that he did a little smuggling on the
side.

Riker felt the heat as it flooded his face. You know that for a fact? he asked.

The Pandrilite shrugged a second time. Thats what I heard. Nothing bigjust a few artifacts here and
there. Things the madraggi would have preferred to keep on Imprima.

Have you seen him lately? asked Lyneea.

The Pandrilite shook his head. No, I havent. The last time was probably a couple of weeks ago, now
that I think about it. And thats a little strange, because hes around here all the time.

Around where? Lyneea pressed.

You know, said the Pandrilite. The tavern.

Riker didnt believe it. He didntwant to believe it. 

Youre lying, he told the Pandrilite. Youre in league with whoevers framing him.

No. Im telling the truthI swear it. He paused. What do you mean,framing him? Is he wanted for
something?

Riker frowned. Hed already gone too far. Never mind.

Conlon must have had agents, said Lyneea, dragging the conversation back on course. People he met at
the tavern. Who were they?

The Pandrilite didnt seem eager to provide the answer. But he must have been less eager to face
Drohner. As far as I can tell, he worked with only one outside player. An Impriman by the name of
Bosch. Reggidor Bosch.

You know, said Lyneea, if my companion is right and youre lying to us

I know, I know. The Pandrilite held up his hands. I heard you the first time. But Im giving it to
you straight. Bosch. You can find him in the Gelden Muzza. Thats where he stays.

Lyneea nodded. Thanks.

It took a little while to find the projectile gun; it was mixed in with some of the garbage that had
fallen out of the container. Riker had to clean it with a rag before he could shove it into his tunic
for safekeeping.

When he was done, Lyneea gestured with the blaster. Lets get a move on, she told the Pandrilite. I
think my companion is getting cold.

It was untrue. Riker was all but oblivious to the weather. If anything, he was hotseething, in factas
he tried to reconcile the Pandrilites information with his faith in his friend.

Damn it, Teller. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Five

THE FIRST TIMEWesleys door beeped, he thought hed imagined it. Thats how deep he was in his research.

The second time, however, he was listening for it, and therefore it was unmistakable. The boy sighed,
the slightest bit annoyed at the interruption.

Come in, he said.

The doors parted to reveal Data. Suddenly Wesley forgot that he was annoyed.

Data was probably the only one on the shiphis mother includedwho would listen to him expound
indefinitely on whatever subject had most recently caught his fancy and never, butnever , invent an
excuse to leave before Wesley was finished. The boy still hadnt figured out if the android was really
interested or just too polite to leave him hanging, but it almost didnt matter, as long as he listened.

Data greeted him. I hope I am not disturbing you, he said.

Heck no. Wesley motioned the android to a seat. In fact, Im glad to see you.

It is nice of you to say so, said Data, folding himself into the chair. Actually, I

You see, the boy plunged on, caught up in his excitement, Ive been curious about Commander Rikers
mission. But I havent been able to get the captain to drop a hint about itPriority One and all that.
He frowned. I think Mr. Worf knows something about it, too, but hes just as closemouthed as the
captain. So I decided to check out Impriman culture on the library computer and see what I could dig
up.

Datas features seemed to recast themselves as Wesley spokea subtle change, but one the boy couldnt
help noticing. Was he boring Data now, too?

Is everything all right? he asked.

Certainly, said the android. Please proceed. 

Youre not just saying that so you wont hurt my feelings? I mean, you really want to hear this?

Yes, Wesley. I really do.

Thank God. Okayso where was I? Oh, yeah. Impriman culture. Its pretty interestingfor instance, the
institution of the madraga. In one respect, its like some sort of monarchy, with control passing from
parent to child. But in all other respects, its more like one of Earths old business entitiesthe
corporation. The madraga isnt limited by geographical boundaries, as a nation-state would be. Instead,
its defined by the extent of its involvements in various Impriman industries.

Interesting, said the android.

Anyway, these madraggi all get together once a year, during the time of the winter solstice, in the
ancient mountain city of Besidia. They hold trade meetings during which the course of Impriman economics
is charted for the foreseeable future. He couldnt suppress a smile. And when do you suppose the
winter solsticeis ?

Datas eyes moved abruptly, as they sometimes did when he was computing something. Now, he answered.

Absolutely right.

So, said the android, you believe that Commander Riker is involved somehow with the trade meetings?

Right again. Andready for this?Commander Riker has been to Imprima before. As a trade liaison.
Wesley outlined the details of that mission, including its successful conclusion.

I see. And have you a theory as to Commander Rikers role in the current meetings?

The boy leaned back and shook his head. No. Unfortunately, thats as far as Ive gotten.

Still, you seem to know a good deal more about Commander Rikers mission than I do, and I am third in
command of this vessel.

Wesley looked at him in a new light. Say, Data . . . if you asked the captain

The android thrust his chin out, as he always did when remonstrating with someone. I am sorry, Wes. If
the captain had wanted Commander Rikers mission known, I am sure he would have made it so by now. Since
he has not . . .

The boy held his hands up and smiled. Okay, okay. No harm in asking, is there?

No, agreed Data. There is never any harm in that. And speaking of questions, would you answer some
for me?

That was when Wesley realized the significance of Datas change in expression a few minutes earlier.
Oh, he said, pounding his fist on his desk. Thats why you came here in the first place, isnt it? To
ask me some questions. And here I go spouting off like the egghead everybody thinks I am. He shook his
head as he regarded the android.What was I thinking? That Data came to visit just so I could have a
sounding board? Im sorry, Data. I really am. He leaned forward. Now, what do you want to know? Im
all ears.

Data cocked his head slightly. He had that quizzical look in his eyes.

Its an expression, explained Wesley. It means Im listening.

Ah, said the android. In that case, have you ever played baseball?

Baseball? echoed Wesley. Hed expected Datas inquiry to be something in the area of human naturethe
type of thing he usually discussed with Geordi. Sure. Ive played it, mostly when I was smaller. Why?

The android told him about the goings-on in the holodeck. About the dilemma hed faced between first
base and second, how it had been resolved, and the managers reaction to the resolution.

Wesley found it pretty funny, but he didnt let Data know that. The problem, he said, is that you
took the players encouragement too literally.

I see. Data looked a little disappointedin himself, no doubt. And I thought I was making strides in
that regard.

Youare , the boy assured him. At least from what I can see. But in this case you should have taken as
many bases as possible. In fact, you should have hit a home run in the first place. That would have
taken the guesswork out of baserunning.

The android nodded. Actually I wasthinking of hitting a home run. But when my teammates recommended I
hit a single

Wesley shook his head.

Too literal again? Data asked.

Thats right. A single would have brought the runner home from third base, and that would have been
good. But it would have been better to bring two runs home.

The android seemed to absorb the information. But he still looked puzzled. Wesley said so.

What I do not understand, said Data, is Terwilligers reaction. Even if Idid make a mistake, why
should he have become so incensed over it? Is baseball not a game? Or am I missing something else?

To tell you the truth, remarked the boy, Im a little puzzled myself. I guess everybody takes
something a little too seriously. Lord knows,I fall into that category from time to time. He shrugged.
It would probably help if we knew more about the environment Terwilliger was operating inor the
pressures he may have been under. I mean, this was his job, wasnt it? From what I understand, baseball
was an industry as well as a sport.

Data looked at him as if he was expecting more.

Unfortunately, said Wesley, I dont have all the facts. Im not exactly an expert on twenty-first-
century social history. An idea came to him. But wouldnt that sort of information be stored in the
ships computer archives?

The androids eyes seemed to brighten a little. I believe you are correct, he said. He rose. Thank
you, Wes. You have been most helpful.

Dont mention it, said the boy. It was my pleasure.

Data started for the exit, then stopped, as if hed forgotten something. He wheeled around to face
Wesley. Incidentally, he said, I reallyam interested in your research on Imprima. Please let me know
how it goes.

Wesley grinned. Youve got a deal, he told him.

And with that, the android departed.

As the doors to his quarters came together again, the boy sat there for a second or two in appreciation
of the marvel that was Data.He wants so badly to be more like us , Wesley mused.But it wouldnt hurt us
to be more like him .

Then he remembered Imprima and turned back to the array of information on his desktop monitor,
downloaded from the library computer. Lets see, he said out loud. Whats so important about these
trade meetings that Commander Riker had to be called back for them?

The first official of Madraga Terrin stood before the picture window in his library. The grounds outside
were a snow-covered expanse broken only by a few stately trees.

I have given your proposal much thought, said Larrak, his hands locked behind his back, his narrow
features unreadable. But it bears more thought still.

Then youve yet to make your decision, said Riker.

That is correct.

Is there some additional information we could provide? asked Teller.

The isak sitting by the door growled softly. Riker tried his best to ignore it.

Larrak eyed Teller, giving away nothing. I do not believe so. But if anything occurs to you, you may
send it on.

I appreciate that, Teller said, without the slightest hint of irony in his voice. And if anything
occurs to you, First Official, please let us know.

I will. I assure you.

It was the shortest interview theyd had yet. Riker felt Larraks vote slipping away. And Terrin was one
of the most powerful madraggi on the planetit was a vote they needed. He started to drag out his speech
againthe by-now standard oration about the virtues of trading with the Federationfiguring that it
couldnt hurt.

But Teller had subtly placed his hand on Rikers. He was standing up.

Thank you, he told Larrak, for your time and your attention.

The first official inclined his head ever so slightly. The movement emphasized the waspishness of his
appearance.

Following Tellers lead, Riker stood too. His friend knew these people better than he did; hed figured
that out days ago. With a smile, Riker turned and fell into line behind Teller.

The isak looked up at them hungrily. Saliva dripped from its massive jaws, leaving little pools on the
floor.

To Rikers surprise, Teller didnt go through the open doorway. Instead, he knelt beside the isak.

The things eyes went wild. It made an ugly sound deep in its throat, but it held its ground.

Beautiful animal, observed Teller, showing no sign of fear. Did you train him yourself?

I did. Larrak eyed Teller curiously. I have seldom seen anyone get so close to him. Even trained
isakki are unpredictable sometimesor didnt you know that?

Teller rose. I knew, he said. Good day, First Official.

Good day, Lieutenant Conlon.

As they made their way down the hall to the front door, Teller elbowed Riker in the ribs. Impressive,
huh?

Crazy, if you ask me. You couldve lost half your face. Or worse.

A retainer was waiting in the foyer to show them out. He opened the door for them; they turned up the
collars on their Impriman tunics, which werent nearly warm enough to stave off the frigid weather.

The gate was about twenty paces away. There was a retainer there, too.

I took a chance, Teller went on. I showed Larrak I trusted his training of the isakthat I
trustedhim.And that should show him the extent of our commitment, how much we want this trade agreement,
and that were operating on the level.

Riker shook his head. I would never have thought of all that. And even if I had, I dont think Id have
had the nerve to pull it off.

Sure you would, his friend assured him. Thought of itanddone it. Or maybe youd have found something
even better.

I doubt it.

The retainer at the gate swung it aside at their approach. As they made their exit, Riker had a funny
feeling. Turning, he saw Larrak out of the corner of his eye. The first official was standing at the
front door, watching them go.

Dont look now, but our host is seeing us off.

Guess it worked, then. Though thats no guarantee that he will vote us in. Hes still risking an awful
lot if he breaks his ties with the Ferengiand the promise of greater profits with the Federation could
just be pie in the sky.

On the other hand, he seems to have no great love for Rhurig. And Kelnae would just hate it if Larrak
sided with the Federation.

Good point, said Teller.

An ascetic was sitting just outside the gate. A female, Riker thought, though the shapeless brown robes
didnt give him too many clues.

Before he knew it, Teller had dug into his tunic and produced a chit. He went over to the ascetic and
held it out. A moment later a slender hand emerged and accepted the offering.

Riker looked back. Larrak was still watching them.

They began walking again, away from the estate of Madraga Terrin and back toward more familiar
precincts.

Another gesture? asked Riker.

Huh?

That bit of charity. To impress Larrak?

His friend grinned as he began to understand. Hell, no. A reflex. He paused. But if it impressed
Larrak, so much the better.

Daydreaming again, Riker?

Thinking.

About what? Your friend?

Riker looked at her as they approached the doors of the Golden Muzza. As a matter of fact, yes. Is it
that obvious?

She shrugged, opening one of the doors. After you, she said.

He went inside, and she came after him.

All the way here, Riker had been at odds with himself, alternately hurrying and dragging his feet. He
wanted to hear what Bosch had to saybut at the same time, he dreaded it.

Because if what the Pandrilite had told them was true, it opened up some pretty dismal possibilities.
First, that Tellerhad been involved, in some way, with the theft of Fortunes Light. Second, that Riker
had perhaps not known his friend as well as he thought.

And Reggidor Bosch would tip the scales one way or the other. Either he would confirm the fact that
Teller was a smuggler or he would reinforce Rikers belief in the man.

The desk clerk was of mixed bloodpart Impriman, part Tetracite, part something else as well. It was an
uncomplimentary combination.

And they soon found out that, at least in this case, it was possible to judge a book by its cover.

Maybe he lives here and maybe he doesnt, the clerk told them in a whiny, high-pitched voice. Who
wants to know?

Thats none of your business, said Lyneea. She reached inside her tunic and plunked down a half-dozen
variously colored chits on the counterchits from various madraggi so, as in the tavern, no one would
link them with Criathis in particular.

The clerk looked down at the chits, a little surprised. Apparently they didnt get too many big tippers
at the Golden Muzza. Gathering up the pieces of plastic, he put them away below the counter.

Hes in three-oh-three. Two flights up. But . . . He paused, the skin around his eyes crinkling. What
do you want with him?

Lyneea produced two more chits.

The desk clerk grunted. Have a nice day.

The lift was in need of repair. It jerked as it came to a halt at the third floor, and the doors opened
on completely different sequence schedules.

Boschs suite was to the left and all the way down the hall, which gave them a chance to sample the
threadbare imitation Andorian-weave carpet. At one time, Riker knew from his last stay on Imprima, the
Golden Muzza had tried to affect an offworldly kind of splendor. It had long since faded.

He knocked on the door, an elaborately embellished version of the sort found on ancient Earth. It
sounded hollow.

For a moment or two, nothing. Then, Who is it?

Room service, said Lyneea.

The door swung open a crack, and a slice of Impriman features appeared in the opening. I didnt order
any

By the time the Impriman realized that it wasnt room service, Riker had inserted his boot between the
door and the jamb. Lyneea pushed it open the rest of the way.

The occupant retreated a couple of steps and stared at them, fear etched on his narrow face. Riker felt
sorry for him. Obviously this kind of thing didnt happen to him very often, despite his line of work.

Lyneea closed the door behind them gently, so as not to scare the fellow any more than he was already
scared.

What . . . what do you want? asked Bosch.

Not what you may think, said Lyneea. Were not here to rob you. She smileda rare expression for
her, but one she was quite good at.

Were friends, said Riker. Friends of Teller Conlon. He glanced sideways at his partner. Well, it
was half true. We havent seen him in a while, and were worried. He mentioned your name a couple of
times; we thought you might be able to put our minds at ease.

Bosch shook his head. I dont know who Teller Conlon is. Ive never heard of him.

Lyneea chuckled. Of course not. Youre not his outside player, right? Her tone was mild but assured.
Youve never taken a commission from himis that correct?

Bosch looked from one to the other, then gave a nervous half smile. All right, he said. I admit that
Ive done some business with him.

Riker cursed silently. When was the last time you saw him?

The smugglers agent shrugged. A month ago. Maybe more. He put his hand to his head, shivered a
little. Listen, he said, give me a moment, will you? I need to take my medication.

Medication? echoed Riker.

The smugglers agent lifted his chin and pointed to his jawline, where he bore the scars of korrus
fever. They were faint, but they were there.

The first time Riker visited Imprima, korrus had still been fatal. When hed heard about the cure a
couple of years ago, he rejoicedwith a toast in Ten Forward to the researchers whod made it possible,
some of whom were Federation personnel.

Of course there were still some lasting symptoms of the diseaselike the involuntary muscle tremors
Bosch was experiencing nowand, if left unmedicated, some rather grisly seizures.

Sure, said Lyneea. Go ahead. Dont mind us.

Bosch crossed the room to a chest of drawers. But the closer he got, it seemed to Riker, the less he
trembled.

Covering the room in three strides, Will arrived just in time to grab Boschs wrist as he started to
open the top drawer.

The Impriman looked at him. I thought you said you were friends.

We are, said Riker. But weve got to be careful. You know how it is.

Lyneea was giving him a look of disapproval:Were trying to gain his confidence, Riker, and youre not
exactly furthering the effort .

Maybe he had jumped to a conclusion. He released Boschs wrist.

As the Impriman opened the drawer, Riker saw the vial of tablets inside.

See? Youre getting paranoid.

He started to turn away, to return to where Lyneea was standing, so Bosch could have some privacy.

But out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of something that was definitely not medicine. He
whirled and kickedand sent a blaster flying out of Boschs hand.

Lyneea was quick to recover it. She held it up, looked reproachfully at her fellow Impriman.

What did you expect? he asked, massaging his hand. You say youre Conlons friends, but I never heard
him talk about you, not once. And you come barging in herehow do I know what youre really after?

Just what we said, Lyneea told him. Were looking for Conlon.

To help him, added Riker.

The smugglers agent looked at them again. Finally he seemed to accept that there was no more to it than
thator very little more, anyway.

Conlons in some kind of trouble, he concluded. Isnt he?

We think he might be, yes, said Lyneea.

Bosch cursed. LookI dont know anything about Conlon disappearing, truly. But if theres something I
can do, just tell me. He swallowed. Youve got to understand that Conlons my livelihood. Not part of
itall of it. And its not easy to pick up new clients these days. Too much competition, too many aliens
out there crowding the field.

Suddenly Riker found he had a bad taste in his mouth. But he believed that Bosch knew nothing of
Tellers whereabouts. Lyneea was of the same mind. Her expression confirmed that.

When I find our friend, he told Bosch, Ill inform him of your concern.

In the meantime, Lyneea was removing the battery from the blaster. She tossed both components to Riker,
one at a time.

Riker replaced them in Boschs drawer. Disconnecting the battery had rendered the weapon useless, and it
would need a minute or so to recharge after it was connected again.

Just in case.

Watch where you take that thing, Lyneea said as she opened the door. Theres a carnival on, you know.
High-tech ban and all that.

Bosch nodded. Thanks for reminding me. He turned back to Riker. You going now?

The human nodded. Yes. Crossing the room, he followed Lyneea out the door.

Dont forget, said the smugglers agent, his words trailing them down the hall. I really do want to
help. Honest.

Subject? queried the computer voice, silken and female as ever.

Baseball, said Data, confronting the monitor in his quarters. Specifically, the state of the
professional game in the year 2026 Old Earth Time.

It took less than a second for the computer to call up the requisite information. On screen? it asked.

No, said the android. Though some of his colleagues liked to interact silently with the ships
electronic brain, Data preferred to converse with it out loud and did so whenever circumstances allowed,
as they did now. Voice mode, please. Narrative format.

Very well. There was a pause, which no one else on theEnterprise would have noticed. Then the computer
began. By the year 2026, the game of baseball had entered a period of decline. A series of bitter and
protracted labor disputes, starting in 1981 and escalating shortly after the turn of the century,
gradually eroded the popularity of the sport. What is more, sharp increases in ticket prices denied
large segments of the population access to the games. As time went on, younger fans in particular
became

Stop, said Data. I am unfamiliar with the term fan. 

Fan, repeated the computer. An abbreviated version of the word fanatic. In this context, used to
denote devotees of the game, those who have an enthusiastic admiration for players, their efforts, and
the results of those efforts.

I see, said the android. Please proceed.

Younger fans in particular became alienated, and the market for the game dwindled. Fewer and fewer
people watched baseball on television and purchased related paraphernalia. Surveys in the year 2019
indicated that the body of baseball enthusiasts was less than half the size it had been two decades
earlier. While all franchises were financially damaged by this trend, those that catered to smaller
populations were damaged the most. In the period from 2018 to 2023, four teams went bankrupt and another
eight changed hands a total of nineteen times.

Dismayed by the decreasing opportunities and increasing uncertainties associated with a career in
baseball, talented athletes and managers opted for other sports or avenues of endeavor. Those who took
their place were generally less gifted and willing to play for lower salaries. Ironically, the
professional baseball player in 2026 had less in common with his immediate predecessors than he did with
the players of one hundred years earlier.

The computer stopped there, its summary complete. But having been supplied with a perspective on the
matter, Data now had other questions.

Tell me about the game played on October 7, 2026, between the Phoenix Sunsets and the Fairbanks
Icebreakers.

The game was a playoff, said the computer, to determine the champion team of the American League,
which would go on to face the National Leagues San Diego Padres in the World Series. The contest was
decided in the seventh inning when Sunset center fielder Rob Clemmons hit a home run with the bases
empty. The final score was four to three.

It took a moment for the information to sink in. The Icebreakers lost? asked Data.

That is correct.

He digested that. Terwilliger had failedagain. Interesting, he said out loud.

But it was more than interesting. It was disconcerting, somehow.

Data had just assumed the Fairbanks team had won. After all, it was Commander Rikers program, and he
had placed himself in the role of an Icebreaker. It stood to reason that he would have preferred to
experience a positive result.

Do you require additional information? asked the computer.

Yes, said the android, straightening in his seat. Describe the role played in the game by Bobo
Bogdonovich.

Miroslav Bobo Bogdonovich was a minor league player called up to replace George Kilkenny, the
Icebreakers regular third baseman. Bogdonovich hit safely once in three official times at bat, with one
run batted in. His fly ball to deep center field was the final out of the game.

Data experienced a pang of disappointment. The knowledge of the Icebreakers lossof Terwilligers loss
bothered him even more.

But why?He wasnt Bobo Bogdonovich, any more than he was Sherlock Holmes or Henry IV or any of the other
guises he had assumed in the holodecks. He bore no responsibility for Bogdonovichs performance on
October 7, 2026.

The Icebreakers had played that game more than three hundred years ago. It was a matter of historical
record.

Terwilliger and Denyabe and the clubhouse man were long gone. He had never become acquainted with any of
them, only with their holographic replicas.

It seemed that the outcome of the contest was still in the future, still to be determined, but that was
an illusion, of course. Only the outcome of theprogram might be malleable, depending on how Riker had
structured it; the reality certainly was not.

And yet Data still felt troubled, as if he had left something incomplete.

Somethingor someone?

Did that make sense? The android wasnt entirely sure. But he knew one thing: he was obliged to finish
the program. And to try to succeed, if he could, where the historical Bogdonovich had fallen short.

One last question occurred to him, and he posed it to the computer. The answer was appallingly concise.

Professional baseball finally succumbed to mounting losses in the year 2059. At that point only eight
franchises remained of the thirty-two that had populated the American and National Leagues at the peak
of their prosperity.

In the twenty-second century, entrepreneurs attempted to resurrect the sport with a ten-team
intraplanetary league. However, their enterprise folded after less than two seasons.

Thank you, said Data, though a part of him was sorry hed asked.

Chapter Six

THE FIRE FELT GOOD. Riker nudged his chair a little closer to it.

Lyneea stood on the other side of the room, disdaining the warmth of the hearth. After all, as she had
reminded him, it wasnt even the coldest part of the winter yet.

For the last half-hour or so they had been examining their options. There were precious few.

No one at the tavern would talk to them nowthat was for sure. The Pandrilite was in the custody of the
Besidian authorities, but hed probably told them all he knew. Likewise for Bosch.

We could tail him, suggested Riker. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe he was lying.

Lyneea shook her head. Brittle light slanted in through the window behind her; as she moved, it played
along the soft lines of her hair and shoulders. I dont think so. And even if hewas , hes too smart to
lead us anywhere. If hes got something to hide, hell expect to be followed.

So where does that leave us?

Nowhere we want to be.

I dont suppose youve got any other leads? asked Riker.

There was a knock on the door.

Lyneea frowned, half at the interruption, half at his implication that she was somehow remiss in doing
her job. Come in, she said.

The door opened.

Riker wasnt sure what hed expected to see. A chambermaid, perhaps, or someone else from the hotel
staff.

He had not expected the figure that stood hunched in the doorway, wrapped in long brown robes complete
with a veil of the same color. It was an asceticone of the beggars who flooded Besidia at carnival time
preaching an end to materialism and the ways of the madraggi.

Ironically, it was the madraggi who maintained places for the ascetics to sleep and eat for the duration
of the carnival. And that was more than a gesture of tolerance; it was a nod to tradition. The ascetics
had been protesting the principles of the madraggi for so long that the carnival wouldnt have been the
same without them.

But they normally carried on their begging in the street, not door-to-door. Riker approached the robed
figure, delved into his pocket for a chit, and held it out.

The robed one held up a slender hand. No. Her voice was muffled, but the eyes that peered over the
veil looked into his with an unflinching audacity.

Strange, he told himself. Ascetics never looked directly at offworlders.

I need only to talk. To you, William Riker.

That caught him off guard. To me? he repeated.

Yes, said the robed one.

By then Lyneea had joined him at the threshold. Excuse me, sister, she said. Who are you? And how do
you know this humans name?

The ascetic averted her eyes. I speak only to Riker, she insisted. No one else.

Lyneea looked at him. He shrugged. Im just popular, I guess.

His partner stifled a curse. Popular indeed.

Perhaps I should go, said the robed one.

No, said Lyneea. Her voice took on a softer tone: Stay, sister. Ill go. At least, for a little
while.

Riker didnt protest. Whatever this ascetic had to say, he wanted to hear it. If she knew his name,
there was a good chance she knew about his mission as well. If so, he had to know where the security
leak was before the whole business became common knowledge.

Lyneea, of course, had the same concerns. And if that meant swallowing her pride a little, it was a
small price to pay.

But she wouldnt stray too far from the room. Will was certain of that. This robed one had already
proved herself to be more than she seemed. Who knew what other surprises she might have up her sleeve?

Ill be back in half an hour, said Lyneea, slipping on her cloak. She addressed the ascetic: Time
enough?

The robed one nodded. She stood back as Lyneea made her exit, slipping Riker one last warning glance.

As his partner strode down the hallway, bound for the lift, Riker turned to the ascetic. Come in, he
said.

She nodded, made her way into the room. He closed the door behind her.

Can I get you anything? he asked. Something to eat? To drink?

No, she said. Thank you. She sat on the couch. Riker took the chair hed been sitting on and pulled
it away from the fire. Straddling it, he leaned on the backrest.

You said you needed to talk, he opened. Im listening.

For a small space in time there was only the crackling of the logs in the fire. Her eyes seemed to hold
him. Then to see right through him. Finally she spoke again.

Youve grown a beard, said the robed one.

Her voice was still muffled by the thick brown veil. But something about it was familiar.Very familiar.

And you, he told his guest, have taken to wearing an ascetics robes. He felt a grin coming on.
Whats the matter? Have the colors of Madraga Criathis become tedious for its second official?

She removed the veil and pulled back her brown cowl, revealing the perfect features of an Impriman
aristocrat.

Norayan, he said, rising and putting his chair aside.

Will. She rose, too, took the hands he extended in greeting. The warmth of her smile was genuine and
only too welcome after the events of the last couple of days.

Its good to see you, he told her.

Yes. Too bad the circumstances couldnt have been happier. She sighed, let go of his hands, and sat
again. Then I might not have had to come to you in disguise.

He placed himself beside her on the couch. Whydid you come? To see what kind of progress weve made?
And why couldnt you talk to your own retainer?

She bowed her head. I came to tell you somethingsomething that will help your investigation.

Youve heard something, he concluded. About Teller? Or the seal?

No, she said. You dont understand. Ive . . . Ive come to make a confession, Will.

Riker looked into her eyes. How could he not have recognized her, even with that veil? No one had eyes
like Norayans. So wise. So regal.

What the devil are you talking about? he asked.

Her composure seemed to falter a little. In the average Impriman, that wouldnt have meant anything. In
a madraga official, it was the equivalent of going to pieces. But a moment later she caught herself and
straightened.

This isnt easy for me to talk about, she said, underscoring the obvious. You and Teller and I were
wonderful friendsdo you remember?

He nodded. I still have fond memories. Lots of them.

As I do. It was a special time. I had not yet been named second official of Criathis. I was still free
to pursue adventures I cannot pursue now. And I had two gallant Earthmen with whom to pursue them.

Yes, said Riker. We were quite a threesome. Where was she going with this?

Then you left, said Norayan. And it was just Teller and myself. And the nature of the adventures
changed. She paused. We fell in love, Will.

He hadnt been prepared for that. Or had he? Had he seen it in her eyes even before she said the words?

And how did he feel about Norayan and Teller being lovers? A little jealous? Hell, it had always been
the three of them. How could they have fallen in love without him?

Really, he said.

Ive shocked you, observed Norayan.

No, he told her. Its all right. Go on.

She frowned. Of course we had to keep our love a secret. I was next in line for a position on
Criathiss council, and you know the rules. A council member must be chaste, lest he or she succumb to
undue influences that might in turn affect the fate of the madraga.

Sexual blackmail, Riker interpreted.

Exactly. If my relationship with Teller had been made public, it would have cost me the opportunity to
serve Criathis. And that is what I had been trained for all my life.

It must have been difficult.

It was. Every time we met, we risked everythinghis future as well as mine. For what would the
Federation have thought of a trade liaison who offended one of Imprimas more powerful madraggi by
bringing scandal to its doorstep? A moment of remembering. But in time Teller made it much less
difficult: he made it impossible for us to go on.

Riker looked at her. How so? he asked, though he had an inkling of what the answer might be. After
all, the evidence had been piling up.

He began smuggling, said Norayan.

Therethe final nail in the coffin.

You see, Will, he started to change after you leftperhaps evenbefore you left, though neither of us
saw it. We Imprimans . . . we have a great love of wealth. By the standards of some races, I know, it
would be called an obsession. But we have learned to live with it, to place limitations on it, so that
our basic social fabric remains intact.

Teller was exposed to our culture all at once. It was too much for him. He was surrounded constantly by
riches and by individuals whose daily pleasure was to acquire more wealth. He finally became more
Impriman than any of us, and he got into the game in the only way he could.

By taking advantage of his position as trade liaisonto spirit out historical artifacts to collectors
all over the sector. On Federation ships, no doubt.

And who was he holding accountable for that? He could hear Picards words as clearly as if he were still
sitting in his ready room: You feel guilty for having allowed your close friend to go astray. You feel
as though you should have done something to prevent it.

Riker had seen Tellers pronounced affinity for things Impriman, but he hadnt seen where it might
lead.Should he have? Could he have stopped his friend from destroying himself and his career?

Or was the captain right?I am not my brothers keeper . You sound bitter, said Norayan.

He shrugged. Maybe I am. It seems to me that I could have prevented this. I dont know . . . somehow.

I was here, she reminded him. And I couldnt stop it. By the time I found out, it was too late for me
to change him. Teller was in too deep. The day came when I realized I could no longer trust him. He
still loved me, but he had found a greater love.

I understand, said Riker. She had been right to call this a confession; he offered her whatever
absolution he could. The risk had become too great.

And the stakes too high. It was no longer just a question of fidelity to Criathis or to the Federation.
Now there were crimes against the Impriman world government, crimes I knew about and, by rights, should
have reported to the authorities. Association with Tellers activities could have brought sanctions
against my madragacrippling sanctionsfrom the other madraggi. So . . . I ended our affair. Just like
that, Im afraid.

How did he take it?

He was stunned, said Norayan. He claimed he had done it all for me, that he only wanted to become my
peer in wealth and power, to put us on an equal footing. But I knew better. He said that if Id leave
things as they were, hed stop smuggling then and there, but it was plain that he wouldnt. That he
couldnt. I told him to leave this world, to remove himself from temptation, to find another post
somewhere else. Or to rejoin Starfleet, as you had done.

He promised me that he would do this. It gave him hope, he said, that perhaps he could return to
Imprima someday, reformed, and on the morning my tenure as administrator was over, claim me for his
bride. She drew a long breath, exhaled it softly. There was only the slightest hint of a ragged edge to
it, but Riker noticed. I couldnt destroy his hopes entirely. I said that was a possibility.

When was this? he asked.

A few months ago, just before I was named to the council of Criathis. But that wasnt the last time I
saw him. About a week after my ascension, he came to see me at my fathers estate here in
Besidiaopenly, as one would visit a friend. But at his first opportunity Teller took me aside and told
me he couldnt abide by his decision. He wanted things to be the way they were before. I stood firm, for
his sake and mine, and for the sake of the Federation and Criathis as well. When he left, he was
terribly disappointed.

I didnt know what to do, Will. I didnt know what Teller would do in his desperation. Every day that
passed was an agony of uncertainty, but I could not turn him in, not while there was a chance he would
eventually come to his senses.

Then he disappearedand Fortunes Light along with him. She regarded Riker. You know the rest.

Do you believe that Teller took the seal? he asked Norayan.

She frowned. Yes, I do. He had easy access to it. After all, he was trusted by everyone in Criathis,
not only because he was a delegate of an honorable entity like the Federation but also because of his
long-standing friendship with me.

Riker grunted. His big haul? Hed said it out loud, but the question was really directed to himself.

Thinking a response was required, Norayan nodded.

But once he had it, he asked, what could he have planned to do with it? During the carnival there
would be no opportunity for agents to contact prospective buyers, not with the high-tech ban limiting
offworld communications. And afterward, with the merger destroyed and the disappearance of Fortunes
Light made public, no sane outside dealer would touch it. There would be too much scrutinyfrom the
authorities as well as from Criathiss retainersto make even the grandest commission seem tempting.

Youre right, said Norayan. Thats why I believe Teller chose to find a buyer on his own. Not among
offworld collectors but among the madraggi themselves.

The madraggi? echoed Riker.

Just one, really. Madraga Rhurig.

It was starting to make sense. Rhurig, a powerful rival of Criathis, had never taken kindly to the trade
agreement with the Federation, possibly because the Federation wasnt interested in any of the resources
Rhurig controlled.

By making a shambles of the merger, Norayan explained, Rhurig stood to prevent its two most
influential political adversariesCriathis and Terrinfrom joining forces. Whats more, after they had
arranged safe passage for Teller off Imprima, and after his involvement in the theft became known,
Rhurig would have been rid of the Federation as well.

A neat package, said the human.

And his friend was even more of a traitor than hed thoughtthat is, if Norayans speculations jibed
with reality.

And of course, she continued, Teller would reap the additional benefit of seeing me suffer. He would
make me regret my rejection of him.

That didnt sound like the Teller Conlon that Riker knew. He said so.

Doesany of this sound like Teller? asked Norayan. I tell you, he has changed. She looked at Riker.
We must find him.

Weve been trying, he told her. Though it seems weve hit a dead end. My partner had one lead, and it
didnt pan out.

I think I know where he might be hiding, Norayan said. In the Maze of Zondrolla.

The maze? Riker asked. What would he be doing there?

Well . . . Norayan began. Was that a faint blush in her cheeks? It was the place where Teller and I
used to . . . to meet.

Of course, said Riker, sparing her the indignity of further explanation. He didnt have to be
bludgeoned with a blaster butt to figure out why they met there.

My story, she said, was that I liked to go there to contemplate the affairs of my madraga. To seek
wisdom from the ancient stones.

He nodded. If Teller knew the maze, he might have chosen it as his hiding place, or at least hidden the
seal there. Say no more. Well search the maze.

She put her hand on his. But you musnt tell anyone how you came to look there. Not even Lyneea. If it
becomes known that it was I who pointed you to the maze, people will start to ask questions. How did I
know Teller would be there? How often did I visit Zondrolla to meditate? And I will be ousted from my
office as surely as if Id been discovered in Tellers arms.

He smiled as reassuringly as he could. Put your mind at ease, he told her.

Thank you, Will. She got up, put the veil in place, and drew the cowl back over her head. I will see
you again. Sooner rather than later, I hope.

He escorted her to the door. That depends on what I find in the maze, I guess.

She looked at him. Yes. Of course. Then she departed.

Riker watched her go. Then he went back inside, shut the door, and sat down on the couch. He stared into
the tiny molten caverns created by the burning logs.

The memories started to come againone in particular. It ate away at him as the fire ate at the logs.

Nor did he do anything to distract himself, to stop it. If it hurt to remember, maybe that was just the
price he had to pay. . . .

Teller?

Um? OhWill. About time you showed up.

They wouldnt let me in until the surgery was over. Can you imagine that?

Hard to figure out these medical types.

Teller didnt look as bad as Riker had expected. Then again, the lighting here in sickbay was designed
to make people look a little better than they feltat least, that had always been his personal theory.

How do you feel?

Not bad, considering. I guess the ceiling caved in, huh?

The whole damned power station caved in. If you hadnt found me by that time, Ito would have been
forced to beam you up alone. And I would have been a historical footnotethe only casualty in the Gamma
Tobin colony earthquake.

Teller grunted. You could have been famous.

Im not complaining, though I wish that last tremor hadnt come when it did. Then I wouldnt have
fallen, and I wouldnt have lost consciousnessor my communicator.

Another grunt. I would have preferred that, too. What made you climb that catwalk in the first place?

Riker smiled sheepishly. A catwhat else? He must have scampered up there when the quakes started
getting bad, and he wasnt about to come down on his own. A pause. It was stupid, I know. But my
mother always had a soft spot for cats, and . . . hell. Anyway, we found him later onreunited him with
his owners and all that.

Terrific, said his friend. I love happy endings.

Teller . . . I heard you volunteered to go in and get me.

Somebody had to. Why waste real officer material?

Somebody didnt have to. The captain wanted to conduct a sensor search. He said it was too dangerous
for anyone to beam down. The understructure was too delicately balanced.

All the more reason to go. The sensors would never have found you in time.

You know that now, but you didnt know it then. By rights, you shouldve stayed put.

Teller chuckled, his blue eyes dancing. He brushed back some of that unruly reddish blond hair. Lucky
for you I was stupid and irrational, huh?

Yes. Lucky for me.

Say, Will . . . while youre here, why dont you make yourself useful? Hand me that glass of water,
will you?

Sure. Here.

Thanks. I owe you one.

I think its the other way around.

Uh-oh. I had a feeling this was coming.

You saved my life, not only by finding me but by covering me when the place started coming apart. I
cant just let that slide.

If Id known you were going to get all teary-eyed on me, Id have left you there.

Bull. A hard swallow. I appreciate what you did, Teller.

His friend looked at him. Youd have done the same thing for me, right?

Sure. But thats differentyou owe me half a months salary after the last card game.

Teller smiled. Right.

Not to mention the card game before that.

Youre a real bloodsucker, Riker. No wonder they made you a lieutenant.

Um . . .

What?

Dont look now, but Im not the only lieutenant around here.

Yourekidding.

I wish I were. But the captain insisted. Something about bravery and a job well done. I forget the
exact words.

Yousureyoure not kidding?

I never kid a kidder, Teller. Its bad form.

Boy, Will. Teller whistled softly. Can you imagine if you were somebodyimportant?Theyd probably have
made me an admiral.

*   *   *

Riker sighed. Teller had saved his bacon without even a thought for his own life. If he hadnt taken the
brunt of that ceiling collapse, at least until their transporter chief could beam them up . . .

He had to return the favor. No matter what his friend had done, Will had to get him out of this mess.
Put him on his feet again.

Certainly he owed him that much.

Suddenly the door opened. Before Riker had a chance to react, he saw Lyneea slip inside and close the
door behind her.

So? she asked.

So what? he responded.

What was so important that only you could hear it?

I think Ive got a lead.

Oh? She took a seat on the couch. Tell me more.

There we were, said Geordi. One mangled shuttle and three apple green rookies, lucky to be alive. The
damned photon storm made communications impossible, so our ship had no idea which Beta Bilatus satellite
we were onand Beta Bilatus happened to have twenty-two legitimate planets, not to mention a whole mess
of oversize moons. Our food dispenser was squashed in the crash, we had one working phaser among us, and
the local fauna had decided we looked tastier than lemon meringue pie.

Sounds rough, observed Guinan, seeming to absorb the story with every pore in her body.Nobody listened
the way she did. What did you do?

Glad you asked, said the chief engineer, plunking his glass down on the bar. The first thing I did
was calm my buddies down. The two of them were as fidgety as guinea pigs at a python convention. Then I
phasered us out a hole underneath the shuttle. The wildlife couldnt move the twisted hulk to get at us,
and it was easy enough to defend a little hole from unwanted intrusions.

What did you do about food? asked Guinan.

Geordi shivered a little, remembering. Sometimes you eat the lemon meringue pie, he said, and
sometimes the lemon meringue pie eats you.

Surprisingly Guinan didnt seem put off by the idea. She just smiled that knowing smile of hers.

Fortunately, said Geordi, we werent there long enough to get bored with the menu. As it turned out,
our planet was the third one on the search agenda. Our phaser was still three-quarters charged when the
cavalry arrived.

I see, said Guinan. She paused. You know, its funny.

Geordi looked at her. What is?

This story of yours. I could swear Ive heard it somewhere before. She gave it some thought, then
nodded. I have. On Starbase Eighty, while I was waiting to be picked up by theEnterprise . Her brow
wrinkled ever so slightly. If Im not mistaken, it was told to me by someone named Stutzman. Jake
Stutzman, I think it was.

Geordi felt an unwelcome heat creep into his face. Oh?

Yes. You dont know him, by any chance, do you? Geordi was starting to feel like a kid caught with his
hand in the cookie jar. Actually, he said, he was one of the other two rookies.

Guinan made a sound of mild surprise. Small galaxy, she remarked. But you know, thereally funny thing
is that this Stutzman fellow told the story differently, as if it washe whod had to calm down his
companions. She shook her head. And now that I think about it, he also took credit for making that
hole. A sigh. Can you imagine? I guess some people just let their egos run away with them.

Right, said Geordi. The jig was up. He could see it in her eyes. Uh, Guinan . . . ?

Mm?

Maybe I mixed up a few of the facts.

She regarded him. You? Of all people?

Youre laughing at me, he said.

I never laughat people, she corrected. Onlywith them.

Its all right, he said. I suppose I deserve it. He leaned closer. But do me a favor, will you?
Dont let it out that I . . . um, embellished the story a little. With a tilt of his head, he indicated
the young medical officer to whom hed related his tale the night before. I kind of impressed her, I
thinkand with the shape my love lifes in, I need all the help I can get.

Guinan clucked softly. Geordi, Geordi, Geordi. All you need to do is be yourself. When will you learn
that?

He grunted. Whenmyself starts seeing some romance. Sowill you keep this in confidence? Or do I have to
admit to that nice young lady that Im not the hero of Beta Bilatus Seven?

Im your bartender, said Guinan. Whatever you tell me is strictly confidential. However, something
about her expression told him she wasnt going to let the subject drop.

Guilt, he mused.Just what I needed . Fine, he said flatly. Ill tell her the truth. Butyoure the one
whos going to have to listen to me after I ask her out and she laughs in my face.

If it comes to that, said Guinan, Ill be here.

Geordi was so wrapped up in his own lifes drama that he hardly noticed Wesleys approach. It was almost
as if the boy had materialized at his sidea stunt he wouldnt quite put past Transporter Chief OBrien.

Hi, said Wesley, acknowledging both Geordi and Guinan. He claimed an empty stool, but not with his
usual alacrity.

Hi, yourself, said the Mistress of Libationsa sobriquet Will Riker had bestowed on her in one of his
more jocular moments.

Looks like youve got something on your mind, remarked Geordi.

Actually, said Wesley, I do. Ive been researching Imprima. You knowto see if I can figure out what
Commander Rikers up to.

And? prompted Geordi. Hed been a little curious about the first officers mission himself, though
hed known better than to press Captain Picard for details.

Wes filled them in as best he could. And, no surprise to Geordi, hed done a pretty thorough job of
researching the matter.

Interesting, observed the chief engineer.

Thats what Data said.

Data? echoed Geordi.

So much for Priority One secrecy, said Guinan. Wesley shook his head ruefully. No need for concern.
The missions still a secret. He sighed. I still cant figure out what Commander Rikers doing down
there. I mean, I was doing pretty good until I spoke with Data, but since then I havent made any
headway at all.

Is that the reason for the long face? Guinan asked.

The boy looked at her. Not exactly. He paused, then turned to Geordi again. I guess Im a little
worried.

Worried? said the chief engineer. About Commander Riker? He dismissed the notion with a wave of his
hand. Listen, Wes, if theres one thing Ive learned since shipping out on theEnterprise , its that
Will Riker can take care of himself.

Wesley frowned. Normally, Id agree with you. But studying their history . . . under that veneer of
civilization, the Imprimans can be a pretty tough bunch. Especially during carnival time.

Guinan leaned forward across the bar.Her bar, Geordi couldnt help but think. Is there something in
particular thats got you worried, Wes?

The boys expression suggested he was reciting from something hed memorized. During the carnival, he
said, the influx of foreign elements into normally placid Besidia drives the mortality rate up more
than two hundred percent. Street violenceincluding certain forms of dueling permitted by lawis the
most common cause of death.

Statistics, said Geordi. Never yet met one I liked.

Wesley looked at him and shrugged. I dont know. Maybe I am taking it too seriously. Its just that
Ive got this feeling . . .

Geordi clasped his shoulder and gave it a reassuring shake. Take it from me, Ensign. Whatevers going
on down there, its nothing Commander Riker cant handle.

Wesley regarded him and nodded. Youre probably right, he conceded.

Imdefinitely right, said the chief engineer. Trust me on this one.

Chapter Seven

RIKER HAD HEARD ABOUTthe Maze of Zondrolla on his first visit to Imprimaas in You really should see
the maze while youre here. Just make sure to go in with a guide; otherwise, we may never see you
again.

The maze had been built on the heights overlooking Besidia by the first official of Madraga Porfathas,
to please a wife some twenty years his junior. The young woman, whose name was Zondrolla, was
inordinately fond of puzzlesespecially childrens puzzlesand it was her husbands greatest delight to
present her with one she had never seen before. Toward this end, he sent his retainers ranging across
the face of Imprima, searching every last pawnshop and gallery, every warehouse and museum.

As time passed, of course, it became harder and harder to find a gimcrack or doodad that would make
Zondrollas eyes light up. After all, how many puzzles could therebe in the world? So the first official
got smartor so he thought. He stopped looking and started building. And by the time the dust cleared,
he had built Zondrolla a prodigious mazea puzzle she could actually set foot in herself, and one it
would take her a lifetime to tire of.

Zondrolla, the story goes, was delighted. As a result, so was her husbanduntil the bills for the maze
started coming in. Not too much later, Porfathashardly one of the more stable madraggi to begin
withwent belly up bankrupt, and its holdings were eagerly divided among its rivals.

Worsefor the first officialZondrolla wasnt cut out for poverty. When the madraga lost its wealth, she
ran away with one of the builders whod grown wealthy constructing the maze.

The structure itself was allowed to stand, as a reminder of what might happen when one put ones
personal interests before those of the madraga. Some four hundred years later, it remained a monument to
their foolishness.

And the warnings about getting lost in it? Actually, Riker had found them a bit exaggerated. The walls
were marked at intervals with indelible color coding so that one could find ones way in and out.
Patterns in red and yellow took one closer to the heart of the maze; green and purple guided one to an
exit. Quite a dependable system, once one got used to it.

The lower level was a little trickier. One needed a portable light source to see the colors on the
walls. What was more, the corridorstunnels, reallywere narrower and more confusing than those above.
The air was cold and dank, and there seemed to be too little of it, and every now and then something not
entirely wholesome skittered by. So if one was prone to fits of nervousness, one was better off staying
on the upper level and not venturing below ground at all.

In any case, the worst parts of both levels were inaccessibleblocked off by stone-support collapses
during an earthquake a century or so ago. When Rikers acquaintances suggested he visit the maze, those
werent the sections theyd had in mind.

Damn, said Lyneea, her eyes hard and glittery in the bright sunlight. This place is even bigger than
I remembered.

They stood before the mazes south entranceor exit, depending on how one looked at itthe closest one
to the slope theyd ascended to get here.

Actually, there were two entrances in front of them, as there would have been wherever they tried to get
in. That was just the way the maze had been designed.

Are you sure about this, Riker? Lyneeas breath froze and billowed on the air. Are youcertain you
want to spend the time required to search this thingon the word of some nameless, faceless ascetic?

He nodded. Im sure.

Lyneea didnt think much of the idea of searching the maze. If shed had another lead, even a tenuous
one, she would have refused to trudge up here. Riker was certain of that.

But of course, shedidnt have another lead, so she came along, grumbling at each and every opportunity.
Apparently she saw this moment as her last chance to make her feelings known, and she wasnt about to
pass it up.

Youre not going to listen to reason, are you?

Nope.

Lyneea sighed. She considered the dual-entrance setup. All right. Which one?

This one, said Riker. He indicated the one on the right.

They entered. Immediately the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. With the gray walls of the maze
rising five to six meters from the ground, the suns rays couldnt quite reach them, and Riker shivered.
He could feel his mustache crusting up with ice.

And this was only the upper level.

He looked around. Ahead, on the right, he spotted a dash of color. Approaching it, he saw how little of
the horizontal bar was purple and how much of it was green. It was just as it should have beenexactly
the kind of symbol hed expected to see near an entrance.

It was reassuring to know his memory was working so well. Wrapping his cloak more tightly about him,
Riker followed the curve of the stone passageway.

There wasnt room for them to walk side by side, but Lyneea was only a step or two behind him. He noted
that shed stopped grumbling, at least.

It was unlikely that Teller Conlon would have hidden the sealor himself, for that matterin one of the
unobstructed passages. Hardly anyone ever visited the maze during carnival time, but why would he take a
chance of being found by a casual stroller, especially when the collapsed sections offered so much more
in the way of seclusion?

So they concentrated their efforts on the areas ruined by the earthquake. They scraped and clawed their
way past fallen rocks and rubble, lowered themselves into wells of darkness with only their beamlights
for illumination, dug like moles into hard ground that looked as if it might have been disturbed with a
shovel or something similar.

And came up empty.

It was frustrating as hell, and Lyneea finally said so. This is ridiculous, Riker. We would need every
retainer in Madraga Criathis to comb this place effectively.

Her words echoed slightly. Or was that some crawling thing making its exit, disturbed by the sound?

He thought about Norayan and shook his head. Weve got to keep this under wraps. The sunlight was
receding steadily up the stones. Outside, it had to be approaching sunset. Look, lets get as far as we
can. If we dont find anything, we can come back tomorrow and search again.

Youcome back, said Lyneea. Ive had it with this burrowing. Somewhere in Besidia, theres a real
lead, and were not getting any closer to it by playing with rocks.

Riker felt a gobbet of anger rise into his throat. All right, he said, surprising himself with the
calm in his voice. Ill pursue this by myself. And he walked on ahead.

Youve been duped, called his partner, standing her ground. Wevebeen duped. The robed one deceived
us, Rikercant you see that? She sent us up here to throw us off. Who knows? Maybe Conlon hired her.

He kept walking. The passage turned abruptly to the left, and he followed it. Lyneeas voice followed
him.

Damn it, Riker! What makes you so sure that beggar knew anything? Just tell me that, will you?

He couldnthed already said so. Up ahead there was some debris. Evidence of another collapsea small
one?

The sound of Lyneeas boots scraping on the floor. Dont walk away while Im talking to you, Riker. Who
in the name of ten thousand credits do you think you are?

Arriving at the brink of the cave-in, he knelt and peered into the blackness, then took out his
beamlight and activated it.

I thought we were partners, rasped Lyneea. She was coming up behind himand fast. That implies some
kind of trust, dont you think? Some duty to let the other partner know what in blazes is going on?

The beam sliced open the holes black belly. At first glance, there was nothingthe same nothing theyd
found in all the other holes theyd slithered through. He moved the light around.

Chits and whispers, Riker. At least have the decency tolook at me. I mean, I

He must have gasped then. Or shouted. Thats what he told himself later. At the time, however, he wasnt
aware of having done either. The blood was pounding too hard in his ears, like a heavy surf thundering
on a rocky beach.

Ice blue eyes, staring unflinchingly at the light. High cheekbones, a cleft chin. The reddish blond hair
that had become its owners trademark.

Teller. No . . .

He played the beam over his friends features again and again. Hoping that what he saw was only an
illusion, a trick of the way the rocks had come to rest on one another, and if he looked at them long
enough, hed find a way out of the nightmare. . . .

Finally it was Lyneeas voice, coming from over his shoulder, that made the reality of it congeal and
hold fast: Damn it, Riker, its him.

Even then his impulse was to deny itif not Tellers presence here, then the fact that he was dead.
Clamping the beamlight between his teeth, he began to descend into the pit.

Careful, Riker.Careful , I said. Blazes, theres no need to hurry like that. Hes beyond your help.

But Riker wasnt buying it. He lowered himself by hanging on to a flat rock that had fallen across the
opening until he was suspended directly above a short slope of gravel and detritus. Then he dropped,
landed on all fours, and slid and crab-walked his way down to the bottom to where Teller layopen-
mouthed as if in surprise, eyes like jewels in the flickering, unsteady light. Unsteady, Riker realized,
because he was trembling, and the beamlight was trembling along with him.

Teller was pale, terribly pale. There should have been at least a wisp of breath twisting up from
between his lips; there wasnt. Riker took off a glove and felt his friends neck: there was no pulse.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, where he could still think clearly, where the thing he confronted had
not spread its pollution, Riker heard the stones grind on the debris-covered escarpment. Lyneea had
followed him into the pit.

Are you all right? she asked him.

Fine, he told her. The word came out of him, anyway. He wasnt sure how or from where, but it came
out.

He touched the pallid brow, cold as the stones. Shut the obscenely gawking eyes.

Teller, Teller, Teller.

He had to accept it now; the evidence was only inches from his face. He had to embrace the truth.

Are you sure youre all right?

He forced himself to turn around, to look at her. He saw her eyes screw up a little as she looked back.

Im sure, he said.

And he was. He could feel the horror leaching out of him into the clammy cold of the pit. He wiped the
sweat from his face with the back of his bare hand.

Lyneeas expression changed, mirroring his recovery. Yes, I guess you are.

Reluctantly he relinquished his friend to the darkness for a moment and beam-searched the rest of the
hole. After all, their work wasnt finished. They had found Teller, but not the seal.

Never mind what youre feeling, he told himself.Youve got a job to do .

Meanwhile, Lyneea crept past him. She knelt down next to the body to get a better lookto determine, as
best she could, a cause of death. They needed clues; she would do whatever was necessary to find them.

The pit wasnt big, but it was the most confusing space hed seen yet. There were lots of little niches
where something the size of Fortunes Light could have been tucked away. Lots of places that might be
the beginnings of tunnels leading, perhaps, to other pitsplaces that would have to be scoured out with
light before they could be dismissed as dead ends.

It took a while before he could be certain that the seal wasnt there. By that time Lyneea had completed
her search as well.

He looked at her. Well?

A knife, she told him. Oncein the heart. Clean and quick.

It was small consolation, but it was something. He clung to it.

Unfortunately, Lyneea went on, his pockets are empty. Not even so much as a chit. She shook her
head. Your luck was no better, I take it.

No sign of the seal, he confirmed. Either the killer took it out with him or it wasnt here in the
first place.

Probably the latter, she said. My guess is that Conlon never saw this hole. He was probably murdered
up above somewhere and then dumped here to conceal the fact.

Riker grunted. But the murderer didnt just stumble on him here in the maze, recognize the seal, and
decide to kill him for it.

Lyneea agreed. The murderer had to know Conlons whereabouts in advance. Odds are, they were partners
in this, one way or the other.

Maybe the bastard planned it this way from the start. To let Teller steal Fortunes Light and then to
lift it from him afterward. Less risk that way.

And no one to split the profits with, Lyneea concluded.

Riker no longer argued the question of his friends guilt, not even within himself. Innocent people
didnt get stabbed and left in places like this one.

So were back where we started, he said. Noeven farther back than that. Before, we at least knew
whom we were looking for. Now it could be anyone.

His partners face twisted in a scowl. And the seal could be anywhere. Still in the mazeassuming it
everwas in the mazeor wherever Conlons killer decided to stash it. She glanced meaningfully at the
opening above them. Come on. Lets get out of here.

He looked at her. What about Teller?

Lyneea didnt look entirely unsympathetic. We leave him here, she said, in a softer tone than the one
she usually used. Its not as if we have much of a choice. Even if we could get him out without
attracting attention, where would we take him? She got up, stretched. And theres the killer to think
about as well. If he comes back and the bodys gone, hell know theres someone on his trailand hell
be twice as careful to hide his tracks.

It made sense. Riker had to admit that. And yet, the thought of leaving Teller here in this godforsaken
hole. . . .

Just give me a minute, he told Lyneea. Aloneall right?

She regarded him. Sure. And with an effort, she scrambled up the little slope. Riker didnt see her
leave; he just heard the scrape of her boots on some rocks as she kicked herself up through the opening.

He sighed, played the light on Tellers face again, and forced himself to study each feature
individually, as if that might make the totality somehow more palatable. Memories came, lots of themall
maudlin, all the stuff of melodrama. He pushed them aside, did his best to dredge up clear thoughts.

Had he failed Teller Conlon? And if he had, did it really matter any longer?

What was the proper course of action now? What did a mando when a friend died, anyway? See this
investigation through, as a sort of memorial to the man Teller used to be, as opposed to the man hed
become? See his killer brought to justice?

Of course. All of that.

Would it be enough? When it was over, would he feel that he had set Tellers soul to rest?

There was only one way to find out. Getting up, he took one last look at the dead man. Then, slipping
his glove back on, he turned and started back up the escarpment.

He was peering at the rocks above him, trying to determine how Lyneea had hauled herself out, when he
heard a sharp, distinct yelp.

Damn. He scampered up the rest of the slope, saw a rocky projection that might give him the access he
needed, and used it to boost himself toward the exit. His fingers caught the cross piece; he swung a leg
up, lodged his heel against the lip of the pit, then pulled and twisted his body up after it.

Riker was sprawled on the ground above the hole, one leg still dangling within, when he caught sight of
Lyneea.

Contrary to his expectations, she didnt seem to be in any trouble. True, she was kneeling as if doubled
over, but there was no sign of pain on her face. In fact, she looked as if shed just remembered
something funny.

Whats going on? he asked, getting to his feet. When I heard you yell, I thought the killer had come
back.

Lyneea glanced at him. No such luck. Picking something up off the ground, she held it out so he could
see it.

It was an emblem of some sort, with torn cloth and threads around it, as if it had been removed by force
from whatever garment it was meant to adorn.

May I? he asked, holding his hand out. She gave it to him.

A black field cut into two parts by a large yellow lightning bolt. In the upper right-hand corner, two
yellow sheaves of grain. In the lower left, two yellow aircraft.

All along the bottom edge, something had made the material stiff and maroon-colored. Riker recognized it
as blood.

The emblem of Madraga Rhurig, explained Lyneea. Agriculture, hydroelectric power, air transportthe
industries they control in various parts of Imprima. She paused. The stuff on the bottom wasnt part
of the original design.

Rhurig, Will repeated, recalling Norayans suspicions but unable to identify them as hers. He turned
the emblem over in his hand. You think they would stoop this low? Would they steal Fortunes Light or
arrange to have it stolen?

I wouldnt put it past them. Theyve never seen eye to eye with Criathis.

And the merger would only have made Criathis more powerful. So they moved to prevent it the only way
they could.

Yes, Lyneea said. And thenwho knows? Maybe it was their intention to kill Conlon from the start, so
that he couldnt tell anyone what had happened to the seal. Or maybe he tried to hold them up for more
money than was originally agreed upon. To blackmail them.

Either way, said Riker, they killed him. He could feel the excitement of discovery giving way to the
heat of anger. And whoever belongs to this patch must have been in on the deedand lost it in the
course of a struggle.

His partner nodded. This isbig , Riker. Its no longer a matter of an individual, or even two. Were
talking about a madraga that has helped shape Impriman history for nearly eight hundred years. If Rhurig
is involved with this, and it can be proven . . .

Then Rhurig will be ruined, he said. Shunned by the other madraggi until it collapses of its own
weight.

Or worse. She shook her head. Its hard to say what would be done. Nothing like this has ever
happened before. But I can tell you thisthe economic repercussions would be massive. Global.

For the first time since theyd known each other, Riker thought Lyneea seemed uncertain, almost
overwhelmed.

This is big, she repeated. Verybig.

He looked at her. Youre not suggesting that we shouldnt pursue it, are you? Just because of the
implications?

No, she said. Of course not. Its just that we cant keep it to ourselves any longer. Weve got to
contact Criathistell the first official what we know. Let him decide what we should do next.

We cant, said Riker.Not if were to keep Norayans secret, as I promised .

Wecant?

No.

Lyneeas brow wrinkled. Why not?

Trust me, he told her. We just cant.

Her eyes narrowed. There you go again, Riker. Keeping things from your partner. A little muscle in her
jaw began to twitch. If youve really got a good reason to keep this kind of information from the first
official of Madraga Criathisthe man to whom Ive sworn my loyaltythen I want to hear it. She pointed
a gloved finger at him. But Im telling you in advanceI dont think theres a reason in the world
thats evenhalfway good enough to make me do that.

Riker started to object and then realized it was no use. There was only one thing he could say at this
juncture that would keep Lyneea from going to her superior.

The truth.

Forgive me, Norayan.

He didnt hold anything back. He related the whole story, just as Norayan had related it to him. And by
the time he was done, Lyneeas expression had lost some of its hardness.

Well, she said at last, that does put a different face on matters. Norayan is a great asset to
Criathis. Mind you, I dont approve of what she did. But her exposure could only hurt the madraga.

Riker breathed a sigh of relief. Then youll keep Norayans secret?

Lyneea frowned. Yes.

Good, he said. Id hoped youd see it that way.

But if we are to handle this ourselves, Riker, we must be careful.Very careful. We cant afford to let
Rhurig know of our investigation, or we could find ourselves sharing a pit with your friend.

I agree, he said, shutting out her image. He held out the emblem. Is there something we can do with
this?

She thought for a moment. Yes, she decided. There is. Every madraga members emblem is just a little
different from any othera vanity that seems to pervade Impriman society. You or I might be hard-pressed
to tell whose tunic that came from, even if we had another of his tunics lying right beside it. But
there is one man in Besidia who can identify it at a glance.

And that is? he asked.

His tailor, she told him.

Chapter Eight

PLUNK.

There was something immensely soothing about repetition, Picard noted.Automation has relieved us of the
need for it, but perhaps that is not all good . For at least the hundredth time in the last half hour,
he lunged.

It was an easy, graceful motionone he had been taught long ago at Salle Guillaume, on the Rive Gauche
in Paris. In fact, his old fencing den had provided the inspiration for this dark, hardwood environment
hed created here in the holodeck.

He could almost hear the gibes of his fencing master: Like a cat, not like your plodding old
grandmother. Watch me now, Jean-Luc!

First the point, as if it had a will of its own, an energy independent of the fencer himself. Then the
arm, pulled by that headstrong point, and finally the rest of him, until his right leg had no choice but
to fly out and catch his weight.

Head held high, left shoulder back. Trapezius muscles relaxed to permit maximum extension. Balance,
always balance.

Of course, none of this really mattered unless the ultimate goal was reached, the ultimate test met and
passed. Everything depended on that hard black rubber ball hanging by its meter-long cord just a few
feet in front of him.

Plunk.

If it swung straight back, he had succeeded. If it bounced or shot off in an oblique direction, he would
know that his mechanics had been off, that perhaps he had not been as graceful as hed thought.

It swung straight back.

For good measure, he held his lunge until the ball returned. Just as he would have in a match, in
anticipation of a counterattack.

Plunk.

Once again he caught it on his point, but it didnt swing out nearly as far this time. Then, shifting
his weight back onto his left leg, he withdrew and retreated to anen garde position to wait for the ball
to become still again.

Captain Picard?

The voice sounded eerie here, out of place. It broke Picards concentration; he frowned.

Yes, Mr. Aquino?

Its Commander Riker. Hed like to speak with you. Picard took off his mask. He planted his point on
the deck, which hed programmed to simulate the hard cork floor of Salle Guillaume.

Put him through, Lieutenant.

Aye, sir.

The balls arcs were getting smaller and smaller, thanks to the ships artificial gravity. His
programming, he told himself once again, had been impeccable; the place even smelled rightlike wood
soap and well-earned perspiration.

Captain?

Good to hear from you, Number One. How are things progressing down there?

Rikers grunt was audible. They could be progressing better.

How so?

For one thing, weve found my friend.

That piqued the captains interest. Have you?

Yes. But if hes guilty of the theft, he has more than paid the price.

More than . . . What are you saying, Number One? Not that hesdead?

Thats exactly what Im saying, sir.

Had they been face to face, Picard might have found a way to adequately express the sympathy he felt for
his first officer. The grief he shared.

As it was, he had only words. Im sorry, Will. Damned sorry.

So am I.

How did it happen?

Riker told him. It seemed that this affair was a good deal more complicated than anyone had expected.
More complicatedand more dangerous.

So now, Picard extrapolated, youre trying to identify the one whose emblem you found in the maze?

Thats right. Lyneea has gone to the tailor Madraga Rhurig retains in Besidia. Shes posing as a
servant for Rhurig, hoping that she can get the tailor to mention the name of the emblems owner.

Very clever. And if shes successful?

Well trail the party in question. See if hell lead us to the sealor at least give us some clue to
its whereabouts.

I see, said the captain. You know, Number One, time is running out.

A pause. No one knows that better than I do, sir. Was that a hint of resentment in Rikers tone?

Of course not, said Picard. Forgive me.

I think Id better go now, said his first officer. But Ill contact you again next chance I get.

Silence.

Picard took a deep breath, exhaled. He knew what Riker was going through. After all, hed lost his share
of friends over the years. And in at least one case hed felt responsible for the loss, though a court-
martial had concluded that there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

Suddenly he didnt feel like hitting the little black ball anymore. Or looking at Salle Guillaume.

At times like this he was more comfortable on the bridge, ensconced in the present rather than the past.

Terminate program, he called out.

And in the wink of an eye his old fencing den vanished in its place, the stark, gridlike pattern of a
naked holodeck.

He had been testy with the captainRiker knew that. A less understanding superior would have given him
hell for it. What was the matter with him, letting his emotions get in the way of his job? Theyd better
not. Not now, when things were starting to heat up.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside his room. Opening his
tunic, he slipped the communicator back inside.

Not that using it to contact the ship was wrong. As hed explained to Worf, Federation-issue
communicators werent specifically listed among the high-tech items prohibited during the carnival.
Technically he should be allowed to use it.

It was a fine point, however, and one he didnt care to argue with Lyneea. At some point, a link with
theEnterprise might come in handy.

A key rattled in the lock. The door opened and Lyneea came in. She looked at him.

She smiled.

Youve got a name, he said, rising to his feet.

Indeed I have, she told him. Kobar. Third official of Madraga Rhurigthe first officials son.

Doesnt ring a bell.

Im surprised. Hes a real firebrand. And hes got designs on Norayan, if half the stories are true. If
he suspected that she was having an affair with the trade liaison, that would have given him an
additional reason for wanting to see Conlon dead.

Riker nodded, not bothering to hide his admiration. Good work, he told her.

I dont do any other kind.

The tailor didnt give you any trouble?

Far from it. He was so proud of being associated with a madraga like Rhurig, he would have recited
Kobars genealogy if Id let him. She indicated the street outside with a jerk of her thumb. Come on.
Lets see if we can find this Rhurig whelp.

He got up. Im with you. Sitting in hotel rooms gives me too much time to think. In a couple of
strides, Riker joined her in the corridor, then closed the door and made sure it was locked. Where do
we start? At Rhurigs estate in Besidia?

Lyneea shook her head. According to the tailor, Kobar prefers to stay in town during the carnival, with
a friend or two.

That makes it more difficult, Riker noted.

Not necessarily. Our informant also told me that the third official is a collector. Ancient weapons.
Knives, mostly.

Something hardened in the pit of Rikers stomach. Knives, he echoed.

Yes. And if Im not mistaken, theres a rather well known antique-weapons merchant in the marketplace.

Data could have entered the holodeck back in the first inning and tried to hit a home run this time
instead of a single or, at the very least, used his speed to beat the throw to second base.

But somehow, it wouldnt have seemed right. If he was going to thwart history, it would have to be on
historys terms. And history proceeded one step at a time, in a linear fashion.

As a result, he came in exactly where hed left off, joining his teammates as they stood in the field,
defending against the Sunsets second turn at bat. There were runners on first and second and no one
out.

As the next batter stepped up to home plate, Data saw him glance in the direction of third base. Did
that mean he would try to hit the ball to Bobo? It seemed a fair assumption.

Meanwhile, in the Icebreaker dugout across the field, Terwilliger was behaving strangelytouching the
top of his head, his belt, his shoulder, elbow and wrist in a rapid, apparently random series of
gestures. The android wondered if it was some sort of nervous condition brought on by the stress of the
moment. After all, having put their first two batters on base, the Sunsets had an opportunity to tie the
score and perhaps even go ahead.

Then Data saw Terwilliger ascend to the top of the dugout, stare at him, and repeat the gesturesthis
time more slowly and deliberately. The android had no idea what it meant, but he resolved to remain
alert. If both the batter and his own manager were directing their attention to him, there was obviously
a good chance that he would be involved in the next play.

Data crouched as hed seen the other players crouch. He picked up some loose dirt and pounded it into
his mitt, again in imitation of the others.

Hey, Bobo!

Data looked up and found the source of the greeting. It was Jackson, the rangy fellow at shortstop. He
was calling to the android from behind his glove.

You look a little confused, observed Jackson. You know whats going on, man? You know the score?

Data nodded. Was this one of the rituals of the game? One to nothing, he called back.

The shortstop stared at him from beneath the bill of his cap. Then he laughed.

Right, Bobo. One to nothing. Funny guy.

Then there was no more time for banter. The pitcher eyed the runners, breathed in and out, and went into
his windup.

That was when the first baseman charged toward home plate, Denyabe took off for first, and Jackson
shuffled toward thirdall at the same time, as if by prearranged design.

Data realized hed seen this maneuver before. And a moment later he remembered the circumstances. It was
when Sakahara had laid down his bunt.

There was the sound of ball meeting batbut gently. And as Data turned back toward home plate, he saw
the ball dribbling slowly up the third base linewhile all of the Sunset runners advanced.

Suddenly the android knew what he had to do. Making good use of his superhuman physique, he pounded
toward the ball. Caught it in his bare right hand, whirled, and threw to first, just in time to beat the
batter to the spot.

There was a roar of approval from the crowd. But not from Terwilliger, who came stalking out of the
Icebreaker dugout with his head downthough not so far down that Data couldnt note his discontent and
hear some of the phrases he was muttering.

Terwilliger headed straight for the pitchers mound. So did the catcher. So did the first baseman and
Denyabe and Jackson.

Data gathered that a conference of some sort was taking place. He decided to use the time to brush the
dirt from his shoes.

Hey, Bobo! Cretin!

Terwilliger was yelling at the top of his lungs.

The android pointed to himself. Are you calling me? he asked.

The managers eyes seemed on the verge of leaping from his head. He balled up his fists and took a swing
at the empty air.

Yes, goddammit! he cried, taking a step toward Data, his complexion assuming that dark and dangerous
cast again. Yes, Im calling you. You wanna join us or you got something better to do?

The android thought for a second. No, he said. I have no other duties at the moment.

And he trotted to the center of the diamond, where the others awaited him.

Terwilliger watched him every step of the way. By degrees, he calmed down, and the darkness left his
face.

Everyone huddled close together. Data huddled with them.

All right, said the manager, listen up. Thanks to twinkle-toes here at third base, we got ourselves
one out. He glared at the android. Though it seemed to me he couldve taken off a little sooner, and
then maybe wed have gotten the lead runner instead of the guy at first. He cleared his throat. In any
case, I got a decision to make. Do we put the next guy on and set up the force or do we pitch to him?

Data understood. This was a matter of strategy. He felt fortunate to have been made privy to such a
deliberation.

Nor would he fail to make a contributionnot after Terwilliger had gone to the trouble of soliciting his
opinion. He made some quick calculations.

It is preferable to avoid intentional walks, he said.

Terwilliger glanced at him. What?

Intentional walks have the desired effect only forty-eight-point-two percent of the time, expanded the
android. Situations are more often resolved successfully when the temptation to fill an open base is
resisted.

The manager said something under his breath. This time it was too low for Data to make out.

I beg your pardon? said the android.

I said to shut up, explained Terwilliger.

I only offered the

Shut up, the manager repeated. Shut up, shut up,shut up . Do you understand what Im saying?Shut up!

And with that he turned his attention back to the pitcher. Data looked at Denyabe. The second baseman
winked at him.

I feel good, said the Icebreaker pitcher, answering Terwilligers question. He plucked the ball out of
his glove and popped it back in. I think I can blow this guy away.

Terwilliger looked to Sakahara. What do you think? Sakahara shrugged. Hes got good stuff. Theyre
just finding the holes.

Terwilliger frowned and chewed his lip. Then he chewed his lip some more.

By that time the home plate umpire had joined them on the mound. All right, ladies, he told them. The
sewing circles over. Whats it gonna be?

Terwilliger made his decision. We pitch to him.

Abruptly the group broke up. Data found himself standing alone on the mound with the pitcher.

The man looked surprised to see him still standing there, and Data gathered that he was supposed to have
left with everyone else. With a quick inclination of his head, he took his leave of the pitcher and
jogged back to third base.

The next batter approached home plate. He watched the first pitch miss for a ball. Then the pitcher
reared back and threw again, and again the ball missed the strike zone.

Statistically, the android knew, batters were more likely to swing on two-and-oh pitches than on any
other kind. This instance proved no exception to that rule.

The Sunset player hit the ball about as sharply as Data imagined a baseball could be hit. However, his
android reflexes stood him in good stead. Launching himself toward the third base line, his body
horizontal to the ground, the android caught the ball as it went by himand landed directly on third
base, abdicated by the Sunsets lead runner only half a second earlier.

It was a double play. The Sunsets half of the inning was over.

The stadium vibrated with the thunderous applause and cheers that followed. The sound cascaded from the
stands to the playing field in waves.

Getting to his feet, Data tossed the ball in the direction of the pitchers mound and made his way
toward the dugout. Before he got there, a couple of his teammates had swatted him on the rump with their
gloves.

It was a good feeling. A feeling of belonging, of being appreciated. Data savored it.

Down in the dugout, Terwilliger was standing with his arms folded. He seemed to be intent on something
in the outfield, though Data couldnt imagine what.

As the android took a seat on the bench, Denyabe plunked himself down next to him. The second baseman
grinned as he regarded Data.

You didnt tell me you werethat good, he said.

Data shrugged. You didnt ask.

And you showed it at a good time, too, added Denyabe. I think Terwilliger was getting ready to yank
you.

Data looked at him. To yank me? As in remove me from the game?

The second baseman nodded. Hey, dont look so surprised. Its not like youre not giving him good
reason.

I dont understand, the android confessed.

Sure, said Denyabe. Youre not razzing him, right? Youre not pulling his chain?

Razzing? Pulling . . . his chain? More unfamiliar terminology. One day, Data hoped, he would
comprehend every colloquialism that was thrown in his path. But for each one he came to grasp, it seemed
two more waited just around the corner.

Denyabe shook his head, smiling lazily. I guess some guys just like to live on the edge.

As Data pondered the remark, the Icebreakers half of the inning seemed to fly by. It seemed hed only
been in the dugout for a couple of minutes when it was time to take the field again.

In the top of the next inning, the Sunsets sent up only four batters. But the third hit a home run,
tying the score at one all.

Then it was the Icebreakers turn againand the chance Data had been waiting for. Denyabe was to lead
off. If either he or Sakahara or Galanti reached base safely, the androidor rather, Bobowould come up
to bat again. And this time, Data resolved, Bobo would not stop at a single.

As if to pave the way, the Sunset pitcher suddenly became wild. Denyabe drew a walk, and so did
Sakahara. Then Galanti hit a ball to deep shortstop that resulted in an infield hit.

The bases were loaded, and Data was the next scheduled batter. Apparently the historical Bobo had failed
to drive in any of the three runnersbut that would not happenhere , the android vowed as he stepped up
to the plate.

The spectators cheered and stamped their feet, no doubt remembering Datas play at third base. For the
moment he put them out of his mind.

Sixty feet away, the pitcher focused on his target, his eyes slitted with concentration. Slowly he
brought his hands together, coiled his long arms and legsand unleashed them. Somehow the ball shot out
of that flurry of motion.

The android clocked it at one hundred miles an houreven faster than the first time he came up. But it
was too far out of the strike zone for Data even to consider swinging at it. In fact, the catcher had to
scramble to keep the ball from getting past him.

Again the pitcher set his sights on home plate. Again he rocked back on one leg, gathered himself, and
let fly.

Data had already started his stride when he noticed something different about this pitch. It was
approaching more slowly than the one before it. This throw had fooled him, and he would have to make an
adjustment in order to connect with it.

That hardly seemed like an insurmountable task. And even though he was a little off-balance, Data
decided, he should be able to propel the ball over the outfield wall.

Applying a level of strength and coordination no human player ever enjoyed, the android swung.For the
fences , he thought, recalling a phrase he had heard in batting practice.

But even before the ball left the bat, he could tell that it would not reach the fence. It would not
evenapproach the fence.

The first clue was the sound: a flatplonk rather than the crispwhack that denoted solid contact. His
suspicion was confirmed a second later by the arc of the ball: too high, much too high.

The umpire called the infield fly rule, preventing the runners from advancing on the play. Eventually
the ball landed in the shortstops glove, not more than a few feet behind second base.

Data was numb. What had gone wrong? Whatcould have gone wrong?

The crowd was all but silent. Certainly there were none of the cheers hed heard earlier.

The dugout, too, was quiet. As Data reclaimed his seat, Jackson made a clucking sound with his mouth.

Some hook, remarked the shortstop.

Hook? echoed the android.

Number Two, said Cherry, who was sitting on the other side of Data. You knowUncle Charlie.

The android just shook his head in bewilderment.

Curveball, explained Jackson. I know you dont see too many of those in the minors, but up here
youre going to see a lot of them. At least until you prove you can hit them.

Data looked at him. He resolved to learn more about this thing called a curveball.

On the next pitch Cordoban hit into a double play.

Chapter Nine

HERE WE ARE, said Lyneea.

Rikers eyes focused again and he looked around, remembering where theyd been headed. Sometime in the
last several minutes a light snow had begun to fall.

Only the Imprimans, Riker remarked to himself, would consider near-constant precipitation and
subfreezing temperatures suitable conditions for an open-air marketplace. Which accounted for the dearth
of offworlders strolling through the place.

The merchants had set up their booths on either side of a single winding lane that somehow made its
serpentine way from one end of the square to the other. Not the most efficient use of space, perhaps,
but it did make the shopping experience a little more intriguing.

The merchandise was all native, all Impriman, from the antique rugs that seemed to be hanging everywhere
to the spices that laced the air with strange, compelling scents. Rare animals sat grunting and
screeching in their cages, wines and liqueurs poured like tawny waterfalls from dusky bottles, and the
snow hissed where it fell into the flames of exotic oil lamps.

Riker had only been here twice during his first stay on Imprima. Once with Teller and Norayan and once
by himself, just before he left. But for the life of him he couldnt remember why hed come alone. Had
he meant to buy something? He couldnt recall.

In any case, the market hadnt changed much. More than likely the rest of Besidia had been built around
it, and it would probably go on long after the walls that defined it had turned to dust.

Youthe human!

Reflexively, Riker turned his head. He was relieved to see it was only a spice merchant beckoning to
him.

The fellows eyes were sharp. With Rikers broader build, it was easy to see that he wasnt Imprimanbut
to know he was human, the merchant had to have gotten a good look inside his hood.

Whatever it is, he told the man, no, thank you.

But I have what youve been looking for. The merchants eyes seemed to smile all by themselves.

And whats that? asked Riker.

The Impriman held up a finely tooled wooden box. The thing that all young men cravethe love of their
fair companions.

Then he looked past Riker to Lyneea. And if his eyes had been smiling before, they suddenly seemed to
laugh out loud.

Ah, he said. My mistake. Its you, my lady, who must buy this spice.

Lyneea looked at him as if he were crazy. Ply your wares elsewhere, she advised, her voice as cold and
businesslike as ever.

But the merchant didnt give up easily. Come, he told her, dont be shy. A woman may yearn for love,
too, may she not?

Lyneea pulled gently but insistently at Rikers sleeve. Lets go, she said, not loud enough for anyone
else to hear.

Under different circumstances, Riker might have played the situation for the obvious humor in it. Hell,
he might not have been able to resist.

But they were here to find Tellers killer. He wasnt able to forget that, nor did he want to.

All right, he told her. I dont have any desire to linger here either.

Then dont, she said, continuing to tug. The last thing we need is to draw undue attention to
ourselves.

Im walking, see? Im walking.

So you are. Finally she let go of him, after they were well past the spice merchant and his remarks. A
moment later they negotiated a bend in the lane and the man was gone altogether.

Touchy, he said, arent we?

She snorted, keeping her eyes straight ahead. I prefer to call it impatient.

It couldnt be that you were a little embarrassed, could it?

Lyneea turned and scowled at him.

I guess not, he said. Sorry I even mentioned it.

Abruptly she grabbed his sleeve again. Look, she told him.

He followed her gesture to a booth about halfway down the lane on the right. The merchant within was
tall, heavysetan unusual trait among the Imprimansand thickly beardedno less unusual.

Behind him, on a wooden frame, all manner of ancient weapons were displayed: long spiked maces, a
javelin with a nest of deadly hooks surrounding a cruel point, swords with blades so curved they looked
like blood-thirsty question marks. On the table before him were knivesthirty, maybe forty of them, some
still in their original sheaths.

Riker grimaced. Nice stuff. I guess thats our antique weapons dealer?

Lyneea nodded.

The merchant was haggling with a couple of middle-class types over a rather plain-looking sword. Madraga
employees, in town for the carnival? Or retainers, like Lyneea? If so, their jobs were probably a good
deal simpler than hers was right now.

The merchant turned the sword over in his hands, no doubt pointing out how finely it was balanced. His
customers shrugged and made disparaging gestures. The merchant held the weapon up to his oil lamp, which
limned the blades edge with a soft, rosy light. His customers shrugged again and passed remarks to each
other, shaking their heads.

And so on.

Of course, Riker and Lyneea had to wait for this charade to end before they could move in. They didnt
want to start asking questions in front of people who might be another madragas retainers. Particularly
if they were retainers for Rhurigand of course, unless they wore their madragas color, one never knew.

At last the middle-class pair decided to move onwithout buying the sword. The merchant cast them a
long, disapproving look before he turned and restored the piece to its place on the frame behind him.

Time for some new customers, said Lyneea. Let me do the talking.

He looked at her. Dont I always?

They had just started for the booth when Riker noticed that they werent the only ones. And the other
group was closer.

Wait, he told Lyneea, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She must have seen them, too, because she didnt balk, either at the warning or at the hand. She just
stood there.

Riker, she said.

What?

Do you see what I see?

He took a closer look at the figures in front of the weapons dealers booth. And all at once he realized
what Lyneea was talking about.

The emblem, he said.

The emblem, she confirmed. I cant tell for sure with his hood pulled up, but Ill be quite surprised
if that isnt Kobar.

Riker studied the man Lyneea had pointed to, the third official of Madraga Rhurig. He was taller than
his two companions, rangier. And there was something about his bearingan arrogance? An attitude of
superiority?

This was the man who had murdered Teller Conlon. This was the maggot whod killed his friend.

Suddenly, he wanted very much to return the favor.

Calm down, Riker. Youre not some chest-beating savage. Youre the first officer of the
USSEnterprise.Let your feelings get in the way here and all youll do is put Kobar on the alert .

Riker? Youre being awfully quiet.

Im catching up on my beauty sleep.

Well, catch up while youre looking at a rug or something. We cant just stand here and gape.

No, he said, I suppose not.

The nearest booth was that of a pet merchant. The man peered at passersby from behind a
corgodrillsomething like a small ape with luxuriant rainbow-colored plumage covering its neck,
shoulders, and arms. The corgodrill, known for its pleasant disposition, was sitting on the table
picking parasites out of its fur.

As they approached, the merchant straightened. Can I help you? he asked.

Not really, said Lyneea. Were just taking in the sights.

Then look no further, he told them. The greatest sights in the entire world are on display at
Grizibas booth. His grin was so ingratiating it made Rikers teeth hurt. Now . . . was it the
corgodrill that caught your eye? Hes a wonder with children. The man pointed to a plump, cobalt-
colored lizard. Or perhaps a nice menigirri. It eats very little, and its scent has been known to help
the digestion

Thats very nice, interrupted Lyneea. But were just looking. Really.

The merchant nodded. I understand. You wish to see something less docile. He leaned toward them over
the table. Something you can train to dissuade unwanted visitors. I have just the thing.

Its all right . . . Lyneea began, but the merchant had already disappeared under his table.

Riker was keeping one eye on Kobar, so he really didnt pay too much attention when the fellow came up
again. Nor did he notice what he came upwith .

Here, said the merchant, pushing a cage in their direction. As you know, one so very young is not
easy to come by. It will give you many long years of loyal service.

Suddenly something small and dark lashed out through the bars of the cage. Probably it would have gotten
Rikers attention even if it hadnt been inches from his hand.

Just in time, he withdrew the endangered appendage. And as if in parody, the dark thing snapped back
into its cage.

Riker inspected his hand. He found tiny rents in the back of his glove, but no damage to the flesh
beneath.

Many pardons, said the merchant. But as you can see, he is quite effective. Imagine him guarding your
domicile someday.

Then the animal pressed its small black muzzle against the bars in front, and Riker realized what it was
the man was peddling.

An isak, he said. He recalled his experience in the tavern, not without a certain amount of
apprehension.

Of course, said the merchant. What else can strike so quickly? And with such strength? He smiled. A
couple of months from now, he would not have fallen short of his mark.

Riker grunted, eyeing the beast even as it eyed him. How reassuring, he remarked.

Indeed, said the petmonger. Then you will take him?

Look, Lyneea cut in. Theyre moving away from the booth.

Riker looked. Sure enough, Kobar and his compatriots had finished their business with the weapons
merchant. Judging by the package beneath Kobars arm and the smile on the merchants face, they had come
to terms on some item or other.

Lets go, he told Lyneea.

Just a moment, she said. We mustnt follow too closely.

That will be fifty credits, said the petmonger. And a bargain at that, if I may say so.

Perhaps some other time, Riker told him. When Im feeling masochistic.

Ah, said the merchant, but he will notbe here some other time. Isakki are rare at any age, and as I
have indicated

Now, advised Lyneea, and started walking.

You do not understand, said the petmonger, still appealing to Riker. This is a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity! You cannot pass it up.

No doubt well live to regret it, said the human, and using his long strides to advantage, he caught
up with his partner.

I have a good feeling about this, decided Lyneea. Avery good feeling.

You think hell lead us to the seal now? asked Riker.

She nodded. If we can believe our tailor friend, Kobar loves his knives better than he loves his own
mother. Hell want to keep his new acquisition in the safest place he knows ofalong with his other
valuables. A certain seal, for instance.

Somewhere in town? Or at his madragas estate?

The more I think about it, the more Id say its in townfor Rhurigs protection. Why keep the evidence
where it might incriminate the whole madraga? In Kobars hands, it can hurt only hima risk hed
probably assume for the sake of his kinsmen.

But Kobars their third official, said Riker. It will make for a considerable scandal if hes caught
with Fortunes Light. Why not put some retainer in jeopardy instead?

Probably because a retainer would not be trusted with such an important task, Lyneea told him, even
if he or she was capable of performing it. Obviously Rhurig has gone to great trouble to stop the
merger. It is worth a certain amount of risk to make certain the seal stays hidden. And besides, Kobar
may have insisted on handling this personally.

Then why is he out buying knives for his collection, asked Riker, instead of keeping watch over the
seal?

Lyneea turned to glance at him. Because, she said, he is who he is. Even a madraga official may be
governed by something other than logic.

Remembering Norayans tale, he could hardly disagree. Good point, he muttered.

Hold on, said his partner. Somethings wrong.

Up ahead, Kobar and his companions had stopped. The third official was holding up his package, and one
of the others was pointing to it. Remarks were exchanged, which Riker and Lyneea had no hope of
overhearing. Kobar frowned.

Hes not happy with his purchase, observed Riker.

Apparently, said Lyneea. Maybe theyve decided it wasnt such a good deal after all.

So we make ourselves scarce again.

Youre catching on, she told him.

Kobar and his friends started back the way theyd come. Their discontent was increasing step by step, if
the expansiveness of their gestures was any indication.

Just one thing, said Riker. Lets not find another pet dealer, all right?

Its a deal, agreed his partner.

Shed already started toward a nearby winemongers booth when they heard the first small cries of
surprise. Then came the full-blown screams and the rush. And before Riker knew it, the crowd was
carrying him back, separating him from Lyneea.

A moment later he got his first look at what prompted the riot: the isak cub that had been shown to him
earlier. Apparently the damned thing had gotten out of its cage and was trying to make a meal out of
somebodys anklesanybodysankles.

In their haste to avoid the snapping, snarling little beast, the marketgoers were leaping onto some
tables and overturning others, while the merchants were doing their best to keep their booths intact and
their wares from spilling to the ground. It was chaos such as the marketplace in Besidia had probably
never seenand might never see again.

Riker tried to work his way out of the press. He grabbed for one of the poles supporting a basket
merchants display, missed. Someone fell, starting a domino effect, and by the time it got to him it had
the weight of a half-dozen bodies behind it. Like a swimmer overtaken by a slow but inexorable wave, he
went down, inadvertently taking a couple of others with him.

Nor could he easily get up again. Not with his legs pinned under an equally helpless Impriman, who was
in turn pinned by somebody else. And to make matters worse, other marketgoers were trying to climb over
him, in order to put as much distance as they could between themselves and the skittering isak. There
were curses, grunts, even a couple of misplaced blows.

Twisting and squirming, Riker managed to pull his legs freebut there was still no place to stand. So he
did the next best thing. He worked his way over to the first booth he saw and slithered underneath its
leather-draped table.

Once hed pulled his feet in after him and the heavy coverings had fallen back into place, Riker allowed
himself a shudder of disgust.Crowds . He was grateful for the relative quiet, the relative peace
afforded him by his shelter.

In fact, he almost hated the idea of coming out again into the swirling madness of the marketplace. But
he couldnt forget that hed come here for a reason. After a couple of seconds respite, he crawled out
on the other side of the table.

Riker had fully expected to have to excuse himself to the proprietor. After all, he was hardly an
invited guest.

But the merchant cast him no more than a sideways glance. He was too busy attending to a couple of
marketgoers whod found themselves sprawled across his knife collection.

Abruptly, Riker recognized the face. It was the weapons dealer theyd observed in his dealings with
Kobar. Small world, wasnt it?

Perhaps a bittoo small right now, and a bit too crowded as well. He had to find Lyneea. And also the
ones theyd been following, before they got away.

Riker had already risen to one knee and was starting to get up the rest of the way when he realized that
the weapons dealers wasnt the only familiar face around here. Nor would he have to look very far for
Kobar.

Just a few inches, in factbecause Kobar, having pushed himself off the knife table, was staring Riker
in the face.

There was an excruciatingly long moment in which their eyes met and locked. An eternity, it seemed, in
which something less than peaceful flickered, then flared, and finally flamed in Kobars gaze.

You, he spat. Youre the other human. Norayans other companion!

Riker realized then that his hood had fallen away. Hurriedly he put it back on.

Sorry, he mumbled, turning away. Dont know what youre talking about.

Youre right, cried Kobars friend, who had also recovered quickly enough, it seemed, to place Rikers
face. Its the one . . . what was his name? Reeker? NoRiker.

By that time, the human was slipping awayand trying to slip out of Kobars thoughts at the same time.
If he moved fast enough, maybe he could lose himself in the crowd again. No, betterget out of the
marketplace altogether.

How had Kobar and his companion remembered him? It had been fiveyears, andhe didnt rememberthem .
Apparently his friendship with Norayan had been scrutinized more closely than hed realizedat least by
some.

Riker brushed aside a double layer of leather and emerged in the next booth, where the crowd had already
brought the table down. The rug dealer who ran the place was protecting his best pile of merchandise
with outstretched arms. Seeing a narrow space between the backs of two other booths, theEnterprise
officer started for it.

Not so fast, human!

He couldnt help glancing at the source of the commandit was that insistent. Nor was he sorry afterward
that he had turned around. For if hed practiced more restraint, he might not have avoided the knife
that came whizzing at him end over end. As it was, it embedded itself in a support pole not more than a
hands breadth from his cheek.

Kobar and his companionsthe three of them had been reunited, it seemedwere standing at the entrance to
the booth, beside the overturned table. And each had an exotic-looking knife in his hand.

What are you doing? asked Kobar. Following me? He took a step forward, making tiny motions with the
point of his blade, as if he were carving something. Admit it, Riker.

Just calm down, Will said, giving up on the idea of escape. By the time he squeezed himself through
the opening hed spotted, each of his adversaries could have taken a nice leisurely shot at him. And one
of them was bound not to miss. I think we have some sort of misunderstanding here.

By that time, the isak threat seemed to have abated. Those who only moments before had been scrambling
for shelter were now attracted to the drama in the rug merchants stall.

Misunderstanding, you say? Kobar shook his head. I dont think so. I believe I understand perfectly.

Not perfectly, Riker thought, but well enough to put two and two together. To realize that the
Federation might have sent someone to Imprima to investigate Tellers disappearance. To recognize that
Rikers presence at the marketplace was hardly a coincidence. And to know that if the human was
following him, he might also have caught on to his friends murder.

Of course, to figure all that out, Kobar had to be guilty as hell, not only of the murder but of the
theft of Fortunes Light as well. Riker had satisfied himself of that facta limited accomplishment if
he didnt live to tell of it.

And judging by the look in Kobars eye, he had every intention of silencing his accuser before he could
make any accusations.

Riker looked past his antagonist, scanned the faces in the crowd. Where in blazes was Lyneea?

Why dont you tell me what the problem is, he suggested. Then we can work it out.

There was no point in confirming the Imprimans suspicions. If he had any doubts, Riker was going to
nurture them.

Kobar smiled. Can we? I doubt it.

Surely youre not thinking of killing an unarmed man? Riker lifted his chin to indicate Kobars
companions. All three of you?

That drew a murmur from the clutch of onlookers. Kobars smile faded, and he pointed his knife at the
weapon stuck in the support pole.

Take it out, he said. Then youll be armed, too. And I promise my friends will stay out of it.

Riker didnt want to accept the weapon. If he did, it would mean a fight to the death; that was the
nature of street duels on Imprima.

And the advantage would almost certainly be Kobars. Riker could tell from his comportment that hed
done this sort of thing beforeobviously with success.

Of course hed never foughtRiker before. But even if the human came out on top, his victory would be a
Pyrrhic one. Killing an official of Madraga Rhurig would draw attention to him, blow his cover wide
open, and maybe make further investigation impossible.

Not to mention the fact that Kobars friends would want to avenge his death. That, too, was the nature
of street duels on Imprima.

Come on, Kobar jeered. What are you waiting for?

Riker shook his head slowly. No, he said evenly.

Kobars eyes narrowed. I always suspected you humans were cowards. He spat. Now Ive got proof.

But Riker wouldnt take the bait. He just stood there.

Not that he wouldnt haveliked to take up the knife. He was itching to give Kobar a taste of what hed
done to Teller.But we cant always do as we like, can we?

No, he said a second time, as much to confirm his own resolution as to announce it to his enemy.

What blossomed in Kobars eyes looked like genuine anger. Coming forward, closing the rest of the gap
between them, he shifted the knife to his left hand. Then, with his right, he dug his fingers into
Rikers tunic, grabbing a fistful of the thick material.

Youll fight me, said the third official of Madraga Rhurig. No matter how cowardly you are, youll
fight me, or so help me Ill gut you where you stand.

They were almost nose to nose now, Kobars gaze getting hotter and hotter. The human returned it as
calmly as he could.Easy, Riker. Its still three against one. Your best chance is to wait this one out .

Then he felt the knife point in his ribs. At first there wasnt much pressure behind it. But after a
couple of seconds, it began to dig in.

Well? said Kobar.

Would he carry out his threat or was it a bluff? The human wasnt sure.

Even in the cold of the open-air market, he could feel a drop of sweat trickling down the side of his
face. Rikers mouth went dry as the knife point moved abruptly, cutting through his tunic. It must have
cut flesh as well, because he felt a sharp, burning pain.

For a moment, he believed that Kobar would gut him after all, that the old Riker luck had finally given
out. Then the Impriman let up on the pressure. Opening the fingers of his right hand, he let go of
Rikers tunic.

Finally he turned his back on the human and walked out of the booth, wiping bloodRikers bloodoff his
knife onto his trouser leg.

Its over,the human told himself.And it seems Ive won .

Suddenly Kobar turned and regarded him again. He spoke to his companions without looking at them.

Drag him out of there, he snarled. He may think he can avoid this, but he cant.

Looks like I spoke too soon,Riker chided himself.

Without hesitation, Kobars friends came to get him. Each of them took an arm and dragged him out of the
rug merchants booth.

Nor did he resist much. What for? It would only have postponed the inevitable.

With the crowd packed in like this, he couldnt run. Lyneea could have helped, but wherewas she? Hadnt
she noticed yet what was happening here?

As Kobars companions thrust Riker forward, the crowd cleared away and formed a circle around a portion
of the markets winding lane. It was big enough for what Kobar had in mind, but barely.

Last chance, the Impriman warned him. He gestured to one of his friends, who held out his knife,
handle first.

Riker didnt take it.Dont give in now, he told himself.Youll find another way out of this .

Suit yourself, said Kobar. And subtly altering his grip on his weapon, he advanced on the human.

The attack wasnt meant to be clever. It was intended to humiliate with its straightforwardness.

But Riker didnt intend to be humiliated. Or, for that matter, to be skewered on Kobars point.

At the last moment, he sidestepped the attack and, for good measure, struck Kobar a two-handed blow that
sent him staggering.

The Impriman looked at him with newfound respect. So, he said. Youcan fight.

Will didnt reply. It was more important to concentrate on staying alive.

Kobar took another swipe at himthis time, one with a little more thought behind it. Riker had to jump
back quickly, using all the space the crowd would give him, then shuffle sideways to avoid the real
attack. For a trained duelist almost never intended his first assault to be his best one, and Kobar was
obviously a trained duelist.

Sure enough the Impriman followed up with a long, hard lunge, expecting to hit flesh and bone. But with
Riker already on the move, his point found nothing but empty air.

Cursing, he rounded on the human again. Riker kept dancing along the perimeter of their space, brushing
against the ring of onlookers as he moved.

Kobar feinted. Riker refused to be deceived, refused to react and yield the advantage to his adversary.

Another feint, better than the first, but the human didnt swallow this one either. Kobar was getting
impatient, Riker decided. He would be less cautious, less picky about his openings.

He was right. Kobar didnt wait long to strike again. He started his attack slowly, hoping to lull Riker
into overconfidence, then put all his weight into a sudden rush.

It was a rash thing to do when time was on his side. But Riker wasnt about to tell Kobar that. Timing
it so that his adversary just missed him, he whirled and chopped down on Kobars wrist.

The Impriman cried out in pain. His weapon fell to the ground.

When he went for it, Riker kicked it between the legs of someone in the crowd. Kobar took the
opportunity to slam into the humans midsection, carrying him off his feet. As they fell together, Riker
grabbed his adversarys tunic and planted a heel in his solar plexus. Then, as he rolled backward, he
pushed his leg out and sent Kobar flying.

In a fraction of a second Riker was on his feet, not because he feared a reprisal from Kobarhe had
landed pretty hard if his grunt was any indicationbut because Kobars friends were still in the first
rank of onlookers, and both still had knives.

In another fraction of a second, hed located one of them. The Impriman was starting forward, weapon in
hand. Riker braced himself.

Where was the other?

The human never saw the blow. The next thing he knew, his cheek was pressed against the frozen mud of
the lane, and there was a ringing in his ears.

Someone turned him over, dropped down on top of him. The same someone pinned Rikers shoulders to the
ground with his knees. Snowflakes fell into his face, big and soft and dreamy. He tasted blood as he
recognized the face looming above him: it was Kobars.

Filthy muzza, the Impriman spat, his clenched teeth making the words hard to understand. His eyes
flashed green fury. Filthy muzza of an offworlder bastard. Heres what you get for putting your nose
where it doesnt belong.

As if from a great distance, Riker saw him raise the knife. It occurred to him that he should try to
grab it, but he couldnt seem to reach high enough. For a long time it hung there like a sickle moon,
Kobars features twisting with rage just below it.

Then the Impriman spat out a curseand plunged the knife into the ground beside Rikers ear. The human
rolled his head to look at it, barely grasping its significance.

Kobar lowered his face to Rikers. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper, but his
words had a cutting edge to them.

Go back, he said, and tell your friend Norayan that shes wrong. I didnt kill him, no matter how
many times she accuses me. He raised his lip in a sneer. No matter how many Federation muzza she sends
after me.

With a last shove, he got to his feet and walked away. His companions joined him as he made his way
through the crowd.

From his vantage point in the first row, next to the Sunset dugout, Geordi looked around at the frozen
ball parkthe frozen fans, the frozen players, the frozen umpires and hot dog vendors and video
cameramen. Even the frozen clouds in the sky.

Data, he said, this isgreat . I mean, this issome program.

I cannot take credit for it, the android responded. As I indicated earlier, it was conceived by
Commander Riker before he went planetside.

Geordi leaned over the restraining wall and trained his gaze on the Sunset pitcher. Thats the fellow
who gave you trouble, eh?

Data nodded. That is indeed the fellow. I propose to have him repeat the pitch he threw to methe one I
popped up.

Popped up?

Propelled the ball in a more vertical than horizontal trajectory, interpreted the android. It was rare
for him to have to explain jargon to Geordi; the significance of the moment did not escape him. It is
not the desired result of a swing.

The chief engineer of theEnterprise nodded. Gotcha. Okay, lets take our positions and get a gander at
thiswhat did you call it?

Curveball, said Data. Hook. Uncle Charlie. Number Two . . .

Geordi held up his hands to signify surrender. All right already. Whatever its called, lets see it.

The android entered the batters box, spread his feet, and held his bat aloft. Ready? he called to
Geordi.

Ready, came the answer.

Computerresume program.

All at once, everything came back to life. The crowd yelled and cheered, the players in the field went
into their crouches, and the clouds started crawling across the blue heavens.

As before, the Sunset pitcher set himself, rocked back, and fired the ball. Data just stood there. After
all, hed already had his chance to hit this pitch. The replay was just for purposes of demonstration.

Once again, the ball seemed to come in slower than it should have. And now that he wasnt distracted by
the motion of his swing, Data noticed something else: just before it reached home plate, the ball
appeared to diprather precipitously.

Balltwo, ruled the umpire.

Stop program, commanded the android.

The program stopped. A flock of geese, on a diagonal path high above the diamond, stuck to the sky.

Data turned to Geordi. Was that of any help?

His friend still seemed to be eyeing the pitch, though the ball was now frozen in the catchers glove.
After a moment or two Geordi climbed over the wall and trotted out onto the field.

I want to see it again, he said, from closer up. Also the pitch that preceded itthe one you said was
faster.

Data issued the required instructions, and the computer complied. As Geordi looked on, the holodeck
reenacted both of the pitches that Data had seen in his unproductive at-bat.

Geordi harrumphed, stroking his chin. I think weve got two issues here, he announced. The first one
has more to do with you than with the ball.

Me? said the android.

Yup. With all that whirling and twirling, you expect that pitcher to be throwing the ball as hard as he
can. But hesnot . Hes actually releasing it a little earlier, with a little less velocity. Of course,
you dont know hes going to do thatso you swing too soon.

Data thought about it. Or perhaps just begin to stride before I have to.

Or perhaps just that, agreed Geordi. You should wait a little longer before reacting. That way, a
slower pitch wont fool you. And with your strength and speed, youll still be able to handle a fast
pitch.

Wait longer, repeated Data. I will remember that.

But thats not all there is to it, Geordi added. Remember, I said there weretwo issues involved
here.

Ah, responded the android. So you did.

The second one, said Geordi, has to do with the flight of the pitch. Whoever named that thing a
curveball knew just what he was talking aboutit really does curve. In this case, down and into the
batter, although thats not to say it cant curve in other directions as well.

Ithought I saw the ball drop just before it reached me, recalled Data. And you say it moved toward me
as well?

Thats what happened all right. And it had something to do with the way the ball was spinning.

Spinning, repeated the android. How interesting.

Veryinteresting. And also, as far as I can tell, quite impossible.

Data looked at him. But ithappened.

Geordi shrugged. I can think of two principles that might be at work herebut neither one would explain
that curve.

Perhaps, said the android, if you went over them with me . . .

Sure, said the chief engineer. Maybe you can find something Ive overlooked. He paused, frowning.
Okay, theory number one. If the weight of the ball was distributed unevenly, the spin imposed on it
could create eccentricities in its trajectory. However, judging by this specimen Im holding in my hand,
there arent any serious disparities in weight distribution, so that shouldnt be a factor.

Data pondered that. It was truethe balls he had handled in the field had actually been quite well
balanced. If theyd been otherwise, he certainly would have noticed.

Theory number two, resumed Geordi. Friction. The stitches that protrude from the ball, finding
resistance in the molecules that constitute this atmosphere, could work to turn the object away from the
straight course dictated by momentum. But for that to happen in any significant way, the air would have
to be several times denser than what were breathing. Or the stitches would have to be many times
larger, to invite more resistance.

Data could find no loophole in either analysis. And yet there had to be an explanation. He said so.

No doubt thereis, said Geordi. And Ill think about it some more. But for now Im stumped.

Stumped, echoed the android. He searched his memory for the word. Ah.Stumped . Stymied. Thwarted.
Frustrated . . .

All of that, admitted Geordi. In the meantime, youll have to do the best you can.

He followed Geordis gaze into the Icebreaker dugout, where the androids teammates were frozen in
various poses. Terwilliger, his foot planted on the dugouts second step, was leaning forward on his
knee. His face was half turned away from the goings-on at home plate, as if he couldnt bear to watchas
if heknew that Bobo would find a way to keep him from his victory. Jackson, nestled in the shadows,
looked on with what appeared to be only mild interest. Cherry was leaning on the bat rack, scrutinizing
the pitcher through narrowed eyes.

Didnt those guys know anything? asked Geordi. About the curveball, I mean?

Not very much, said the android.

His friend regarded him. Look, Data, maybe its none of my business, but . . . well, why is this so
important to you? Commander Riker no doubt intended this to befun relaxation. And here you are, putting
an awful lot of effort into something that no one else will ever know or care about.

Perhaps, said the android. And I must admit, I have asked myself the same question, without being
able to come up with a satisfactory answer. He looked back at Geordi. In that respect, I suppose, the
curveball and my motivation have much in common.

Geordi smiled. Okay. To each his own. He jerked a thumb in the direction of third base. Are you going
to play some more now?

Data shook his head. It strikes me that there may have been some scientific research concerning the
curveball, back in the twentieth or twenty-first century. I would like to conduct a search for it before
proceeding to the next inning.

Geordi nodded. Then Ill walk you as far as engineering. Ive got a shift starting in ten minutes, and
it doesnt look good for the boss to be late. Sets a bad example.

I understand, said Data. Computersave program, please.

Riker tried to sit up, found it harder than he would have thought. The ringing in his ears wasnt
getting any better, and he could still taste the blood in his mouth. But hed be damned if he was going
to lie there on the hard, cold ground any longer. With an effort, he rolled over and got up on all
fours. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet.

Riker. Are you all right?

He turned. Lyneea, he said dully.

She held his head steady, looked into his eyes. I think youve got a concussion, she told him.

Great. It sounded as if someone else had said it.

She took his arm. Come on. Lets get out of here. She pointed to a narrow street that led off the
market square. Can you walk by yourself?

He nodded. They walked. And what was left of the crowd let them through.

At one point Riker took note of the petmonger theyd seen before, the one whose isak had gotten loose
and caused all the furor. Ironically, his was one of the few booths left untouched by the uproar. And by
the looks of things, hed even managed to recover the vicious little beast.

A moment later they were in the street that Lyneea had pointed out. There were a couple of shops here,
but neither seemed to be open. The street itself was desertedunusual, Riker decided, considering its
proximity to the marketplace.

Lyneea turned him toward her, looked into his eyes again. She frowned, nodded. Definitely a
concussion.

Feels like someone packed my head with mud, he admitted. Then a memory cut through the fog. Wherewere
you?

Watching. And hoping I wouldnt have to intervene. After all, that would have neutralized my
usefulness.

He felt something like anger crawl up his gullet. Neutralized your . . . I couldve beenkilled.

Lyneea shook her head. Not a chance. Im too good a shotremember the isak pit? She turned Rikers
face to one side, looked at it critically. You look terrible, she decided. We should get you to a
doctor.

He took her hands away. No doctor, he told her. Theres too much to do.

Is there? she asked. What, for instance? Kobar will be on his guard now. Hell never lead us to the
seal.

Riker thought about that, or tried to. It wasnt easy. The ringing in his ears was starting to abate,
but he still felt as if his brain had grown a size too large for his skull. And now there was a new
pain, in the area of his templeno doubt the point of impact of the knife handle, or whatever had hit
him.

Then it came to him: it was something Kobar had said. Something about . . .

He didnt do it, blurted Riker.

Lyneea looked at him. I beg your pardon?

Kobar. He didnt murder Teller.

What makes you so sure?

For one thing, he could have killed me just now if hed really wanted to. He could have eliminated
someone who was almost certainly on to his crimes. But he didnt. What does that tell you?

Lyneea shrugged. That hes a fool?

No. That he may be innocentof the murder and maybe even of the theft. He paused, trying to pull it
all together in his mind. Kobar said something to me after he stuck his knife in the ground. He told me
that Norayan was wrong about him. Apparently shed accused him of killing Teller, and he was passing a
message to her through me.

His partners brow wrinkled ever so slightly. I thought Norayan didnt know your friend was dead.

Riker grunted. According to what she told me, she didnt. But what if she reallydid know? What if she
went looking for Teller in the maze, and found him lying thereas we did?

Then she lied to you. But why would she do that? A pause. Unless . . . She licked her lips. Had some
of the color drained from her face? Riker . . . couldnt Norayan haveplanted that patch we found? The
one that led us to Rhurigto Kobar?

With hindsight, itdid seem like a coincidencedidnt it?

For what reason? he asked out loud. Because someone else killed Conlon? Someone she didnt want us to
know about?

His mind had finally kicked into gear, and his mouth along with it. But it took a couple of moments for
his emotions to catch upfor him to realize the implications of what he was saying.

They looked at each other. For their own individual reasons, neither of them wanted to believe it. To
Riker, Norayan was a friend. To Lyneea, she was an official of the madraga that the retainer had sworn
to defend with her life. But if she was guilty of deceiving them . . .

God. What if Norayan herself was the killer?

Lets say its all true, Lyneea told him. Lets say that Norayan led us to Kobar to keep us off the
real killers trail. Why would she first alert Kobar by accusing him of the crime?

Riker shook his head. Maybe to make him act the part of a hunted criminal, to make his behavior more
convincing to us. Something else occurred to him. Or maybe to turn him on us, to take us out of the
game.

Lyneeas temples worked. So we wouldnt live long enough to find out shed deceived us.

The human nodded. And the rest of Criathis wouldnt suspect a thing. Kobars a known hothead. It
wouldnt be so farfetched if he killed an offworlder, and maybe a Criathis retainer as well, without
knowing it.

His partner scowled. What about Fortunes Light? Could Norayan have been in on the theft of that, too?

Riker met her gaze. Its hard to believe, I know. But is it any less believable than the rest of this?

It hurt to say these things. However, it hurt even more to think that Norayan was trying to kill them.

Maybe Teller wasnt the only one who had changed.Maybe .

Unless were jumping to conclusions, said Lyneea. Her scowl deepened. Or was that what we did back in
the maze? She sighed. What about that oath of secrecy that Norayan swore you to? That sounded like
something of genuine importance to her.

The human had to agree. Maybe she was telling the truth about her affair with Teller and lying about
the rest of it.

But if that was the case, why let us in on her association with Conlon and the maze? Why not just let
us blunder around and leave her secret a secret?

Riker pondered that one. Could it be, he suggested, that we were close to the truth and didnt know
it? That Norayan had to lead us on a wild-goose chase and take some chances because otherwise we would
have found her out?

Lyneea had a queer expression on her face. It had some surprise in it and some respect and maybe a
couple of other things. You know, she said, youre not such a liability after all.

He wanted to smile, but his temple was throbbing too badly now. Thanks was all he could muster up.

Dont mention it. She looked away from him. So now, she said, there are two questions staring us in
the faceassuming, of course, that Norayan is truly hiding something about the murder or the theft or
both.

Number one, said Riker, picking up the thread, what were we looking at that made Norayan so nervous?
What were we doing that we should start doing again?

And number two, continued Lyneea, whom was she protecting?

Lyneea seemed to think, as Riker did, that Norayan could have committed the murder herself. But, like
Riker, she didnt want to drag it into the opennot yet. It was the one possibility that neither of them
was quite willing to countenance.

The human pulled his tunic more tightly about himself. Somehow it seemed colder here in this narrow
street.

Lets go back, he suggested, to the time before Norayans visit. We had just tailed Bosch to his
place at the Golden Muzza, right?

Lyneeas eyes lost their focus a little as she remembered. You think that Bosch was mixed up somehow
with Norayan?

Maybe. In any case, I think we should call on him againthat is, if he hasnt decided to change his
address.

Lyneea nodded, her gaze still focused elsewhere. What if it wasnt Bosch? What if it was the Pandrilite
that made Norayan nervous?

Riker thought about it. The Pandrilites story had seemed plausible enough, but . . .

Weve got him under wraps on that blaster charge, he said. It cant hurt to ask him a few more

Suddenly Riker felt something hit him in the backhard. He turned instinctively and saw a cloaked figure
fleeing in the direction of the marketplace.

Lyneea cursed and clutched at him, and at the same time he felt something long and stiff in his
shoulder, something that didnt belong there, something that was beginning to hurt. Numbly he looked
down at the right side of his chest and saw a bloody knife point sticking out of his tunic.

My God, he whispered. The pain was getting worse with each passing moment. Already it felt as if there
were a hot poker inside him, searing his flesh with agonizing slowness.

He staggered against the nearest wall, Lyneea still holding on to him. There was fear in her eyes,
rampaging wide-eyed fear.

The stain on his tunic was spreading quickly; he was losing blood at an alarming rate. A few drops fell
into the slush at his feet, making tiny black pools.

Lyneea swallowed. Hang on, Riker. Im going for help. Her voice was calmer than she lookedit must
have taken quite an effort.

No, he told her. Not that he didnt agree he needed help. Only the help he had in mind was orbiting
hundreds of kilometers above them.

Digging into his tunic with his left handhe had lost feeling in his righthe scrabbled about for his
communicator. The pain was getting unbearable, but he clenched his teeth and forced his fingers to close
about the device. As he withdrew it, he slid down along the wall to his knees, despite Lyneeas efforts
to hold him up.

Will activated the communicator with thumb pressure and got as far as Riker toEnterprise before the
damned thing squirted out of his grasp. He tried to pick it up out of the slush, but he was cold, so
cold suddenly, and his fingers wouldnt do what he wanted them to.

He looked up at Lyneea for help, saw her narrowed eyes, and knew what she was thinking: a violation of
the high-tech ban, a breach of her vows as a retainer. Technically she was wrong, but he had neither the
strength nor the time to explain it now.

Please, he rasped. There was a blackness at the edges of his vision that was beginning to eat its way
inward. Please . . . Captain Picard on . . . on the ship.

Lyneeas mouth was set in a straight, hard line. The kind of help he wanted went against everything she
believed in. It meant defiling, for the sake of an offworlder, what her people held sacred.

But there was no way to get any other kind of help in time to save his life. If shed doubted that
before, she had to see it now.

Please, he whispered again, reaching for the communicator with useless fingers. The pain was sheer
agony now; it was closing down on him like a vise. And still Lyneea stood there, looking for all the
world like a beast caught in a trap.

The moment seemed to stretch out forever. Before it ended, Riker lost consciousness.

Chapter Ten

FORTUNATELY, Beverly Crusher had been in sickbay when the call came from the bridge. In a matter of
seconds, shed scraped together everything she needed and headed for the turbolift.

It wasnt until the lift doors closed and the compartment was headed for Deck Six that she began to
gather her thoughts as well. And to replay her conversation with the captain, picking out the bits of
information she thought she might need, skirting her personal feelings of hope and dread as best she
could.

Youll be taking a chance, Doctor, you know that? Picard had said. Whoever made Will a target may
make you his next one. And we wont be able to beam you back until . . .

Then the lift stopped and the doors opened and she was rushing down the corridor to Transporter Room 1.
Crewmen hugged the bulkheads on either side of her, careful not to get in her way. Apparently she wasnt
the only one whod been informed of the emergency.

The transporter room doors parted without a sound. Inside, Chief OBrien was waiting for her. Also
Worfwith a bundle in his hand.

I thought I was going alone, she told him.

You are, he snarled, obviously none too pleased about the fact. He unfurled the bundle with a flick of
his wrist, showing her the heavy dun-colored tunic shed have to wear over her medical garb.

Oh, she said, thats right. Dont want to attract too much attention, do we?

The wardrobe change seemed to her a waste of timeone they could hardly afford now, if Rikers wound was
half as bad as reported. After all, if someone had bothered to stab him, wasnt the Federations
presence in Besidia probably known already?

Nonetheless, she put down her supply pack long enough to pull the tunic on over her head. Then she
recovered her pack, bounded up onto the transporter platform, and gave the order: Energize.

Chief OBrien complied. Her last shipboard sight was that of Worf, his body unnaturally rigid as he
resisted the impulse to leap onto the platform beside her. His eyes flashed black fire, and she had no
trouble understanding their message:Do not let him die .

Then the transporter effect took over.

Picard paced in front of the command center, trying to hope for the best. The Imprimans message had
made it sound bad for Riker. Very bad.

Hell, the mere fact that it was she whod had to use the communicator, and not Riker himself, had been
enough to indicate the gravity of the situation. Her report had only underscored what hed already known
in his bones.

He thanked God hed gotten advance clearance for additional beam-downs. Otherwise Dr. Crusher would
still be waiting in the transporter room while some Besidian bureaucrat waded through red tape. As it
was, all it took was a brief message, and the teleportation barrier was lifted long enough to allow the
doctor to beam down to Rikers side.

Not that Picard felt at all good about sending Crusher down there. Apparently someone was on to Rikers
mission, someone who wouldnt hesitate to use deadly force in opposing it. And if they could cut down
someone as resourceful as Will Riker, what chance would a mere doctor have against them? Granted, she
had a Criathan retainer to watch over her, but that kind of protection had already proved insufficient.

As the captain pondered these things, the lift doors opened and Lieutenant Worf came out onto the
bridge. Without so much as a glance to either side of him, the Klingon assumed his regular position at
Tactical, relieving the officer whod manned the post in his absence.

Normally Picard would have dispatched someone else to give Crusher the tunic theyd been holding for her
in ships stores against just such an emergency. Certainly there were personnel more convenient to the
task.

But Worf had requested that he be allowed to do it, and Picard had allowed it. How could he not? Riker
was one of the few real friends the Klingon had, not just on the ship, but anywhere. If he wanted to
feel that he was helping in some small way, who was the captain to deny him that?

Picard gazed at the main viewscreen and the curved sweep of Impriman planetscape that dominated it. By
now Dr. Crusher would have set to work on Riker. By now she would have a good idea if shed arrived in
time.

And so might Troi, if she was monitoring the doctors emotions. Picard turned to his counselor, queried
her with a glance.

Was it his imagination, or was Troi looking a little haggard? Perhaps a trifle paler than usual? If so,
it was understandable. The Imprimans message had hit them all like a point-blank phaser blast.

Nothing to report, said the Betazoid, answering his silent question. Dr. Crusher is still uncertain
of the outcome.

Her voice was even, untainted by the emotions that must be echoing inside her. Picard admired her for
that.

Thank you, Counselor.

So they were truly in the dark. They would get the news, good or bad, only when the doctor completed her
ministrations.

Damn. Why couldnt the Imprimans have let him beam Rikerup instead of Crusherdown? Or should he have
disregarded their cultural taboo and beamed his first officer up anyway, thereby affording him the
resources of a state-of-the-art sickbay instead of those few items that Crusher could fit in her pack?

No. That would have been a serious violation of Impriman law, perhaps serious enough to end their
economic alliance. And though Picard himself might have cared a good deal more about Riker than about
relations with the Imprimans, the Federation wouldnt have seen things quite that way.

So we wait. And hope.

Data was thoughtful as he made his way to engineering. But his mind was not on the engine enhancement
program to which he and Geordi had been assigned.

He was still thinking about curveballs.

Unfortunately his research had failed to turn up anything conclusive. Over the years numerous
authorities, ranging from physicists to mathematicians to philosophers, had tried to explain the
behavior of the curveball. And none of them had posited a more credible theory than those put forth by
Geordi.

Just after the end of the twentieth century a Californian by the name of Ray Sparrow, who identified
himself as a priest in the Church of the Center Field Bleachers, speculated that the pitch performed as
it did because the balls spin approximated that of the free electrons in the Mind of God.

While original, that theory didnt help the android much. It was difficult enough, sometimes, for him to
interpret the intentions of the captain, without trying to understand the thinking of a divine being.

As the doors to engineering slid aside at his approach, Data gave up his ruminations, or at least
assigned them a lower priority in the positronic heirarchy of his intellectual functions. After all,
duty came first, and the captain himself had asked him to work on the engines.

Engineering was unusually quiet, he noticed. Normally it was one of the more affable sections on the
shipno doubt a reflection of Geordis personality, just as the security section was shaped by Worfs
intensity, and sickbay by Dr. Crushers dedication.

Just now, however, the only sound here was the drone of the engines. Hardly anyone looked up to see him
enter. And those who did looked distracted, almost grim.

Nearing Geordis office, he saw that its doors were open and that the engineering chief was inside,
hunched over his personal work station.

Geordi did not appear to be working. His screen was alive with power-transfer schematics, but he was
paying no attention to them.

Data knocked on the door frame as an alternative to catching his fellow officer by surprise. It was
something hed seen done by Commander Riker on more than one occasion.

Geordi turned partway in his seat and looked at him. Hi, Data. I guess youve heard, huh?

The android regarded him. Can you be more specific?

Swiveling around the rest of the way, Geordi cursed under his breath. Of course. How would you know?
You havent been on duty. He got to his feet, crossed the open space between them, and put a hand on
Datas shoulder.

Commander Rikers been hurt, he said.

The android cocked his head. Hurt?

Knifed. I didnt get all the details, but apparently its bad. Very bad.

Data absorbed the information instantaneously, but it took a while for the implications to strike home.

Do you think he will die? ventured the android.

Geordi looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. I dont know. I dont think anyone doesnot even
Dr. Crusher, and shes with him. His Adams apple moved up and down. I called the bridge a couple of
minutes ago. Thats when I got the news.

Data nodded slowly. I see. He paused. That is, I comprehend.

He wanted to say more. He wanted to be able to say he was worried or fearful or anguishedand mean it.

But he couldnt. He was only an android.

Wesley was right, said the chief engineer. He was telling us how dangerous that place can be.
Besidia, I mean. He shook his head. And the worst part is that I made fun of Wesleys concerns. I told
him Commander Riker could get through anything.

The android observed the emotion in Geordis face. Was that sorrow? Or guilt? Or a combination of both,
perhaps?

He still may, suggested Data. You did say he was alive, did you not?

Geordi sighed. Thats what I said, all right.

The android didnt know quite what to do next. But he knew what hedidnt want to do, and that was leave.

May I remain here, he asked, until we learn the outcome of Commander Rikers situation?

The engineering chief smiled. Sure. In fact, I wish you would.

Thank you, said Data. He took a seat on the opposite side of the room.

And in shared silence they waited.

*   *   *

It was cold in the narrow street, but Crusher barely felt it. She was too intent on nurturing the spark
of life that still burned in her patient.

She looked up at Lyneea. The knife, she said, is going to have to come out.

The Impriman nodded soberly. You hold him, she said. Ill do it.

Crusher put her tricorder down and took Riker by the shoulders. His head lolled; his face was ashen.

The doctor thanked God he wouldnt feel the procedure. Introducing Riker to a hefty dose of painkillers
was the second thing shed attended to. The first had been to give him something for the shock.

Ive got him, she told Lyneea. With more strength than Crusher would have given her credit for, she
slipped the blade out in one motion.

Blood gushed, but not as badly as the doctor had expected. Apparently the weapon had missed the major
blood vessels. Lucky.

Sure.Real lucky.

Working as quickly as she could, Crusher applied the dermaplast shed brought in her pack. First to
Rikers back, where the wound gaped larger. Then to his chest.

That would stop the flow of blood. Judging by his pressure and by the pool of crimson slush in which
they were kneeling, he had little enough to spare.

Next she brought out the equipment that would actually heal the wound. Not that she expected to be able
to do it here in the street, but if she could get the process off to a good start, there would be less
chance of infection.

After a few minutes she noticed Lyneeas expression. The Impriman looked angry. At her?

Something wrong? she asked.

Lyneea frowned and looked away. These instruments are forbidden here, she said. This is carnival
time.

Would you rather I let him die? said the doctor. She understood the reference, thanks to her
discussions with Wesley about Besidia. It was you who called for help, she reminded Lyneea, glancing
at the communicator that lay beside her tricorder. With a device, I might add, that is no less
technologically advanced.

Lyneea swarlowed.

Riker moaned softly. Crusher brushed aside the matted hair on his forehead and got another look from
Lyneeabut this one, she realized, had nothing to do with technology. And she suddenly knew why the
Impriman had broken her peoples law to aid the human.

Weve got to get him out of here, said Lyneea, ignoring the penetrating quality of Crushers scrutiny.
Its a miracle someone hasnt come down the street and seen us already.

The doctor nodded. But we cant carry him very far by ourselves. She would have preferred not to move
him at all, but she recognized the danger in remaining out in the open.

Lyneea took a quick look around. Her search seemed to end at a boarded-up door between two shops. Rising
to her feet, she took a couple of quick steps and slammed shoulder-first into the door. There was a
cracking sound as it yielded partway. When Lyneea followed with a sharp kick, the door swung inward,
revealing a shadowy interior.

We can hide the two of you in here, she told Crusher, at least until I can get some help from my
madraga. Then we can find a better place.

There didnt seem to be any other options. Agreed, said the doctor.

As gently as they could, they picked Riker up and carried him through the open doorway.

Beverly Crushers words were like cool water to a man dying of thirst: Hes going to be all right.

A cheer went up from those on the bridge, a wave of gladness that swelled and broke, washing away the
fear that had tainted their spirits.

At one of the aft stations a crew member murmured thanks to her deity. Up at the conn, Wesley thrust a
fist into the air.

Troi looked at the captain, seated beside her. He looked back, his eyes hard with pridein Will Rikers
penchant for survival, in his chief medical officers ability to perform miracles, indeed in everyone
and everything that had contributed to this happy result.

You look tired, observed Picard.

I am, she said. A little.

And this was not your shift. Why dont you get some rest? I think well be all right without you for a
while.

Troi nodded. You dont have to tell me twice.

The captain was beginning to extract details from the doctor as Troi rose and headed for the turbolift.
On the way, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Worf. For a moment, as their eyes met,
she could have sworn she saw a smile on his face. But before the counselor could be certain, he returned
his attention to his instruments.

Stepping into the lift, Troi called for the level where her quarters were located. The doors closed and
she was alone. The lift began to move.

Will. . .

Normally it took her quite some time to pick out a single presence from the midst of a large population,
even if that presence was a familiar one.

But not this time. From the moment she had received word of Wills injury, shed been with him.

Was it because of the relationship theyd once had? Or the different kind of closeness theyd come to
enjoy here on theEnterprise? Or perhaps something else entirely?

She would probably never know. After all, empathy was not a science; it could not be reduced to terms
and equations.

And once she had linked up with the first officer and felt his agony and his terroryes, even Will Riker
could feel terrorshe could not bring herself to break the contact. She had endured what he endured,
suffered what he suffered, been racked by the same dark miseries, fought the same desperate fight.

In her life she had touched greater pain, but never as openly or as willingly. She had glimpsed deeper
despair, but never had she embraced it as she embraced his.

And even now, with the first officer reportedly out of danger, she still could not break the link. For
beneath the mantle of sedation, the agony was still with him, balanced against the force of his desire
to survive. And it would be that way for some time.

Why had she exposed herself? Why had she made herself so vulnerable?

Certainly it didnt help him that she shared his pain. There was no way he could know or, knowing, be
aided by the knowledge.

But that was not the point, was it? The point was that he not be alone, that he not endure this all by
himself.

The point was that she show the universe someone cared about this being. In some inexplicable way that
was very, very important to her.

Needless to say, the experience had taken its toll. It had worn her down, cut her to the marrow of her
soul.

Yet through it all she had remained the picture of composure. It was her job to remain calm in the face
of adversity, to set an example for others, and she had done what was expected of her.

After all, she was the ships counselor. She was supposed to be able to handle this sort of thing.

But even a counselor had to vent feelings such as these, to let out the suffering she had taken in. Even
a counselor had to have a breaking point.

A little more than halfway down to her quarters, the lift doors opened and a crewman stepped in. What
was his name? She couldnt remember.

Counselor, said the man, as the doors slid shut behind him. Any news about Commander Riker?

Will. . .

She nodded, doing her best to fashion a smile. Dr. Crusher just sent word. Commander Riker will pull
through.

A grin spread over the crewmans face. Thats good news, he told her. Hell, thatsgreat news.

Yes, she said. It is, isnt it?

Two levels down, he departed and she was alone again. But not truly alone, for another crewman could
walk in at any time.

Finally the lift came to a stop at her destination. A familiar sight greeted her: the corridor that led
to her suite.

Normally it was a busy place at this time of day. As luck would have it, it was deserted now.

She was grateful.

The entrance to her residence was programmed to respond to her approach. It obeyed that programming and
she breezed inside, hardly noticing when it sealed itself off in her wake.

Will. . .

She headed for her bedroom. Only after shed reached it and another set of doors had closed behind her
did she allow herself to crumble.

Slumping against the wall, she felt the sobs well up from deep within her. And she cried as she had
seldom cried before.

Chapter Eleven

YOU KNOW, Will m boy, its too bad.

What is?

That we couldnt have brought some of that Dibdinagii joy juice back with us.

Will smiled. It packed a punch, didnt it? Like some of the stuff we used to drink on a dare back
home.

Nothing like this synthehol theyre producing now. The Ferengi are traders, not revelers. They wouldnt
know a fine liqueur if they drowned in one.

Maybe not. But when theres no fine liqueur to be had, synthehols a damn sight better than . . . uh,
Teller?

Yes?

Do you mind if I ask what youre doing?

Im taking off my boot. What does it look like?

In the officers mess? Is this some custom you picked up from the Dibdinagii?

I picked up a custom, all right. But it has nothing to do with footwear.

Teller turned his boot upside down, and a slim leather pouch fell into his lap. He tossed it in the air,
caught it.

Joy juice, he announced. Dried and sterilized, ofcourse, so it wouldnt set off the biofilter
alarms. He plunked the pouch down on the table.

In your boot. I dont believe it.

I keep all my valuables in my boots. An old Conlon family tradition, starting with me. Because no one
ever thinks to look there.

But this is contraband, Teller. If they catch you with this, youll be drummed out of Starfleet.

Trueifthey catch me. Which they wont.

He walked over to an automated food unit and ordered two glasses of water. It took him a moment to mix
in the powder. Then he came back to the table.

Care to join me, Will?

Youre crazy. Out-and-out crazy.

One drink, then I toss the rest away. Hows that?

To prove what?

Teller shrugged. That all things are possible. That a man can do anything if he just sets his mind to
it.

And youd risk your career for that?

Another shrug, a light in his eyes. Of course, if youre too frightened of getting caught . . .

Frightened isnt the word. Try petrified. 

Then I guess Ill be drinking alone.

There was something contagious about Tellers particular madness. Riker had learned that a long time
ago.

All right. He glanced over his shoulder at the entrance to the mess. Do it. Just be quick about it.

Quick as you please. Here you go. Whoawait a second.

What now?

A toast, of course. He raised his glass. To the art of the possible.

Sure. To that.

They drank.

Ah. Now, you cant say that didnt hit the spot.

It hitallthe spots. Now get rid of that pouch.

Hey, I keep my bargains, Ensign Riker. No one ever said a Conlon went back on his

Teller! Someones coming!

Youve got ears like a bat, Will, you know that? Teller crossed the room. Are you sure youre not
part Ferengi yourself?

The sliding-aside of the door, a dour look. Gentlemen. A pause. The two of you look like cats whove
swallowed canaries.

Beg your pardon, sir?

A slowly spreading frown. Dont beg, Mr. Conlon. It isnt becoming. But as long as youre wrestling
with that food dispenser, you can get me a cup of coffee. Make that a strong cupits been a long shore
leave.

Aye, Captain. Three cups of coffee, coming right up.

The smell of fresh-brewed coffee. Sunlight on his eyelids, a pinkish orange incandescence. He opened his
eyes and saw the room.

The first thing he noticed was the fire in the hearth. But something was wrong. Wasnt the hearth in the
wrong place? He looked around. This wasnt the room hed been in before, the hotel room where hed first
met Lyneea. This was somewhere else.

A door opened behind him, and he tried to turn in response. He never quite got all the way arounda
sharp pain in his shoulder stopped him.

That was when he realized he had a portable regenerator strapped to his shoulder. He looked at it
stupidly.

Ah. Youre awake.

It wasnt Lyneeas voice, but he knew it all the same.No. That cant be, he told himself.Shes up on the
ship .

Then Dr. Crusher came around the couch he was lying on, and he had to admit that it could be. Hell,
itwas .

And that would explain where the regenerator had come from.

How do you feel? she asked, pulling a chair over to sit beside him. In one hand she held a cup of
coffee.

The word fine started to come out of his mouth. Then he felt his shoulder, worked it in its socket,
and suffered that darting pain again. This hurts, he told her. As he looked into her bewitching green
eyes, he remembered why. The knife, right?

She nodded. The knife.

Then Lyneea called the ship after all. He grunted. How about that?

But not without a lot of soul-searching, Crusher pointed out. She wasnt too happy about using your
communicator, what with that high-tech ban they have around here. And when I took out my tricorder . . .
forget it. I thought she was going to bite right through her lip.

Riker regarded her. You shouldnt be here. Its too dangerous.

You should have thought of that before you went and got yourself skewered.

You cant go back, you know. Not until the end of the carnival.

The doctor rolled her eyes. Believe me, I know. Ive only been told half a dozen times, by everyone
from the captain to Lyneea to those two strong-arm types who lugged you here in the middle of the
night.

Of course. Theyd had to get him off the streets somehow, and there were no mechanical conveyances in
Besidia.

This isnt where we were staying before, he noted.

No. They thought it might not be safe there any longer. Also, this place was closer to the market. It
was hard enough to carry youthis far.

Riker took it all in. Wheres Lyneea now? he asked.

Crusher shrugged. Damned if I know. She muttered something about time running outand then ran out
herself.

Time running out? He didnt like the sound of that.

He sat halfway upand winced at the searing pain that erupted in his shoulder. Damn, he breathed,
easing himself back down onto the couch.

Serves you right, she told him.

How long have I been lying here? he asked.

The doctor set aside her coffee, leaned over and searched through a pack on the floor, finally
extracting her tricorder. Almost two days, thanks to the dimexidrine.

Two . . .days? he echoed.

Crusher straightened, looked him in the eye. Why? Did you think youd have come this far in less time?
Or without the aid of a sedative? She placed a forefinger against his chestand none too gently.
Listen to me, Will Riker. I know exactly what youre thinking.

You do?

Yes. You think youre going to leap up and go after Lyneea, as if you were fully recuperated, but
youre not. Forty-eight hours ago you were knocking at deaths door. There wasnt enough blood left in
you to sustain a good-sized rodent. Plus you had a nasty concussion. She sighed. I practice medicine,
Commander, not magic. Its going to take time for that shoulder to heal properly, even with the
regenerator working nonstop. And then some more time for you to get your strength back. In sickbay it
might have happened a little faster, but not much. Youre not made of duranium, Mister. Remember that.

He smiled a little at the doctors speech. Of course she had a point. In this condition he wouldnt be
much help to Lyneea. And she had the strong-arm types if she really needed help.

Crusher set her tricorder and held it near his shoulder. Judging by her expression, his progress met
with her approval.

How am I doing? he asked.

Could be worse, she told him.

What was it Lyneea had said to him in the beginning? Something about Imprimans taking care of their own
problems?

Well, shed finally gotten it her way. With Riker laid up, Lyneea could conduct the kind of
investigation she preferred, without having to play nursemaid to an offworlder. Especially one who
thought he knew her world because hed been here once for a couple of months.

On the other hand, hehad made some contributions. Hed saved her life when Bosch was about to draw a
blaster on her in his room. And if it hadnt been for his stubbornness, they might never have found
Tellers body.

But then, hed also fallen for Norayans ruse, and hed nearly lost his life to the Pandrilite in that
alley. And wasnt it Riker whod blundered into Kobar, putting him on his guardand maybe drawing the
attention of his would-be assassin in the process?

You look pensive, observed Crusher. Can it be Ive actually drummed some sense into you?

He looked up at her. Did Lyneea find out anything about the knife thrower? Like whom he worked for?

The doctor put the tricorder away and shook her head. No.

Good. Then he could continue to believe it wasnt Norayan.

Apparently Lyneea believed it, too, or she wouldnt have called for help from Madraga Criathis. Because
if Norayan had hired the assassin, and if she knew Riker was convalescing here, relatively defenseless .
. .

He eyed the door warily and wished he had a phaser close at hand instead of a regenerator.

I heard about your friend, said Crusher. The captain told me.

Riker frowned. The loss of Teller had subsided to a dull ache in his gut.

Things happen, he remarked. You just never think theyll happen to you or to the people you love. He
met her gaze. Who else did the captain tell?

Only those who might have had to beam down at some point. Me. Worf. She paused. I guess thats it.
Oh, and Deanna probably knows, toobut then, thats Deanna.

Riker found the mere thought of Troi soothing. But he put it aside. He didnt feel much like being
soothed now.

Listen, he said, Id appreciate it if you wouldnt make too much of Tellers death when we get back.
Especially under the circumstances.

The doctor nodded. I understand.

For a moment or two there was an awkward silence. Then Crusher spoke again.

You know, she said, Wesley was afraid something would happen to you.

Riker cracked a smile. Was he?

Yup. It seems he was studying Impriman culture, particularly as it relates to Besidia and the Trade
Carnival, and he decided that this was a pretty dangerous place. Her eyes twinkled. Actually he
started out trying to figure out why Starfleet had sent you down here. And though he never quite came up
with the answer, he did unearth some interesting items along the wayin addition, I mean, to his
conclusions about it being dangerous.

Rikers smile widened. He couldnt help it. Such as? 

Well, there was something about a parade on the last day of the carnival. All the locals dress up as
clowns and serenade the officials of each madraga.

Ive seen it, said Riker. Its quite a show. And some of them do a little more than serenadebut that
part wouldnt be in the library files.

What else? Crusher asked herself. Oh, yes. The maze, up in the hills above the city? Wesley was
telling me how all the tunnels are color-coded, so you can find your way in and out, and . . .

Riker stopped hearing her. Hed fixed on the word color-coded and was unable to get past it.

Why? He knew about the color codes. Damn, hed seen them only a couple of days ago.

And then it came to him. Like a hawk out of a gray Alaskan sky: The codes would have been useless to his
friend. Teller was color-blind.

Which meant that if hed been hiding in the maze and not just dumped there after he was killed, or if
hed had to stage a rendezvous there, or even if hed just been using the place as a cache for Fortunes
Light, he must have had another way of getting in and out. And if the seal was hidden there, he would
have needed a way to find it again after he concealed it.

Crusher waved a hand in front of his face. Youve got that faraway look again, Commander. Something I
said?

He took her hand in his. Doctor, Ive got to get back to the maze.

Her mouth became a straight, hard line. See? she said. I knew youd try this. Thats why I kept you
under for so long.

You dont understand, he told her. I think I just figured out how to find the seal.

Good for you. When Lyneea returns, you can tell her all about it. Im sure shell be only too glad to
test out your theory.

But we dont know when shell be back or, for that matter, evenif shell be back. You heard her say
that time is running out? Well, it is. Lyneea wont call on us until shes done everything she can to
help Criathis. And even then she may decide were not worth the effort.

For a moment the doctor seemed to waver in her resolve. Then she shook her head. Forget it, Commander.
Youre still weak. You can barely use that arm. And your assassin friend is still out there; maybe next
time hell be more thorough.

I appreciate your concern, he told her, but this is something I have to do. Taking a deep breath, he
tried to sit up again. This time he made it. For Teller. Pivoting on the couch, he planted his feet on
the floor.

Crusher was faster. She placed herself in his way.

Use your head, she told him. What are you going to do? Resurrect your friend by risking your own
life?

No, he agreed, gathering himself. He reallywas weak. I cant make his past go away, and I cant bring
him back from the dead. But Ican make amends for himby returning the seal to Madraga Criathis.

Ifyou live long enough.

Riker glanced out the open window at the snow-covered street below. Was the doctor right? Was there
someone out there waiting for him?

Hell, hadnt he wondered about that himself before shed ever mentioned it?

Ill take my chances, he told her. And with that, he got to his feet.

But Crusher wasnt budging. Dont make me pull rank, Will. Dont make me order you to stay here.

Riker looked down at her, smiling gently. It wont matter if you do, Doctor. This isnt about
Starfleet. This isnt even about Criathis. Its about one mans obligation to another man. I wasnt a
very good friend the last few years, or I wouldve seen how Teller was changing. But Im going to be a
good friend now.

He put his hand on her shoulder. Its not just Teller Im making amends for, Beverly. Its me, too.

Crusher frowned. Silver-tongued Will Riker.

Not this time, he assured her. This time, its straight from the heart.

She searched his face, came to a decision. Yes, I suppose it is. She grunted. All right, Commander.
You win. But if youre going somewhere, Im going with you. And snatching up her pack, she began
checking to make sure that everything was secure.

He hadnt anticipated that. His first reaction was to assemble reasons she couldnt go. But there were
more reasons forhim not to go, so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Besides, he mused, shed probably be as safe with him as she would be if she stayed in the suite alone.
Which was to say, not very.

Her pack slung over her shoulder, Crusher straightened again. Ready when you are, she told him. Back
to the maze?

He adjusted his sling to make it a little more comfortable. Back to the maze, he confirmed.

Stretching out on his bed, Picard took a deep breath. After a moment or two he felt himself start to
relax.

It had been a close call for his first officer. He didnt like close calls, particularly when he had no
control over them.

As his body unwound, so did his mind. And some of the ships business that had been submerged during the
emergency started to float to the surface.

The captain sifted through it. And stopped when he got to Datas recent attraction to the holodecks.

It was a development hed barely noticed at first. But the android was hardly a creature of habit, so
anytime his behavior grew repetitive, it drew Picards attention.

And given the substance of Dataslast obsession with the holodeck . . .

Perhaps it was something that needed looking into. Filing the thought away, he went on to the next bit
of command minutiae.

Rain clamored on the dugout roof, dripped off the edge of it in wind-twisted cascades, and collected in
puddles on the worn concrete steps. It had begun in the Icebreakers half of the fifth inning with a
light sprinkle, which the umpires decided would pass.

The umpires were incorrect. By the top of the sixth the skies had become bloated with black-bellied
clouds, which looked no less menacing after the stadium lights were turned on. Then came the wind and
the sheeting downpour, and by the time the ground crew rolled out the tarpaulin, the pitchers mound and
the base paths were the color of rich, dark cocoa.

Now Data knew what the clubhouse man had meant when hed questioned the weather before the game.
Apparently hed seen this kind of meteorological phenomenon before.

In any case the android didnt have to sit through the delay. He could have stopped the program and
picked it up again after the deluge was over. Certainly he wasnt honing his prowess as a baseball
player by huddling in the dugout.

But only a couple of the other Icebreakers had retreated into the clubhouse. Most of them remained out
here despite the swirling wind and the rain, speaking in soft voices and regarding the vast, empty
field. Occasionally they would laugh, and the laughter would ripple down the bench from player to player
until it was finally lost in theshusharush of the elements.

This was part of the experience, Data told himself. Part of what Commander Riker had built for himself,
and as such, he could not overlook its possible value.

Still, as time passed, and the players exchanges became more and more like those that had gone before,
the android found his mind drawn elsewhere. It kept returning to matters outside the holodeck and, in
particular, to the goings-on in Besidia.

Whyhad the first officer been called down there? And was he truly out of the woods now, as Dr. Crusher
had informed the captain? Or, as Wesley seemed to think, did other dangers await him?

Throughout the worst of the storm, Denyabe had been sitting next to Data, his fists jammed into the
pockets of his warm-up jacket. He hadnt spoken a word to the android or anyone else. He just followed
the clouds in their passage and smiled from time to time.

So the android was unprepared when Denyabe elbowed him in the ribsor whatwould have been his ribs if
hed truly been Bobo Bogdonovich, and not Dr. Soongs creation.

Hey, said the second baseman. You look down. Like your best friend just died.

Data looked at him.How perceptive, he thought. Especially in view of the androids limited capacity for
facial expression.

In fact, he told Denyabe, a friend was severely injured recently. But I am told he is recuperating.

The second baseman nodded. Good. He turned back to the field, where the rain had lightened to a
drizzle and the wind seemed all but spent.

Just when Data thought their conversation had come to an end, Denyabe nudged him again and pointed to
something. The android followed his gesture past the left field wall to the mountains rising in the
distance.

See that? he asked.

Data wasnt sure what he was referring to. He said as much.

The light, said Denyabe. The suns trying to come outway up in the mountains.

The android saw it now, though he was a little surprised at the acuity of his teammates vision. Most
humans could not see well at such great distances.

Its the Light, said Denyabe.

The Light? echoed the android.

Yes. The Light, the golden radiance that pierces the clouds at the end of a storm. The second
basemans eyes narrowed. Back where I come fromor anyway, where my people come fromits supposed to
be an omen of good luck. The Light touches you, the goddess Fortune lays her hands on your shoulders,
and youre blessed. Youll become wealthy, youll have a big family, youll be surrounded by love and
happiness. The same with the land. Where the Light falls on it, the crops will grow strong and tall.

Out among the mountains, the shafts of light were easily visible now. As the storm receded, they seemed
to be approaching the stadium.

An interesting theory, said Data. And probably one with some basis in fact. Light, after all, is a

Denyabe stopped him with a shake of his head. No. Its a lie. The goddess Fortune, the Light, the
promise of wealthall lies. He smiled at the android. Fortune doesnt turn double plays. She doesnt
knock me in from second base. And she sure as hell doesnt grow crops. He hawked and spat. Wealth?
Ill tell you what wealth is. Its you and me, here and now. Its people working on something
togethersomething they can be proud off. He grunted. People cant depend on Fortune, Bobo. Theyve
got to depend on one another. A pause. You understand?

Data noddedslowly at first, tentatively, and then with more assurance. He hadnt comprehended all of
it, to be sure. There was still much for him to ponder. But he had grasped the essence of it.

The second baseman winked. All right, then. You remember all that and maybe youll hit a home run
today.

The android winked backit seemed to be the appropriate response. I certainly hope so, he said, as the
ground crew trotted out to uncover the playing field.

Even though Riker had some idea of where he was going this time, the passageways were still narrow and
confusing, and he needed his wits about him. The color codes wouldnt help him much if he read them
incorrectly.

Hows the arm? asked Crusher, a few steps behind him.

It isnt throbbing as much as it did before, he told her. The effect of the cold, maybe?

Or else your regenerated nerves are deteriorating. But more likely itis the cold. She looked around.
You know, she said, this place seemed a lot more romantic when I was listening to Wesley describe it.
Its hard to be enchanted when youre so concerned with staying alive.

Riker was concerned, too. Hed been looking over his shoulder since the moment they left their hotel
suite. There had been no sign that anyone was following thembut then, a real professional would have
been sure not to leave one.

And now that they were in the maze, it would have been easy to kill them as Teller was killedand just
dump their bodies in the hole beside his.

Are we getting close? asked the doctor.

Very close, he told her. In fact, if memory serves . . .  They negotiated a sharp bend in the
passage and there it wasthe pit created by the cave-in. Were here, he said.

It was no different from a dozen other pits theyd passed on the wayat least, at first glance. Crusher
said so as they approached.

Nonetheless, Riker insisted, this is the one.

They shone their beamlights down into the darkness. To her credit, the doctor didnt gasp at what she
saw within. She didnt make a sound. In fact, her only overt reaction was a flaring of her chiseled
nostrils.

Teller was just as he and Lyneea had left him. Perfectly preserved by the cold, more like an ivory
statue than the remains of a man.

Ill go first, said Crusher. Youre going to need some help getting down.

Nor was the irony of role reversal lost on the first officer. Normally Riker, with his greater strength
and agility, would have been giving the doctor a hand. But this was no time for machismo.

Youve got to hang on to that flat rock, he instructed, indicating the stone with his beam. Then
drop. Theres a slope below it.

She walked around the hole until she had a better view. I see it, she told him. Then, stashing the
beamlight in her tunic, she latched on to the rock and lowered herself over the brink. A moment later he
heard the crunch of her boots on the gravel.

All right, she called softlyout of deference for the dead man? Do your best. Ill try to keep you
from hitting anything.

Riker stowed his own beamlight. He sat carefully on the edge of the cave-in and took hold of the rock
with one hand. Then he let himself slip in and down.

His purchase on the rock was tenuous at best; he couldnt hang on for very long, and he wound up
dropping at an awkward angle. But Crusher was there to help straighten him out when he landed.

Together they slid down the incline. Somehow they managed to keep their feet.

Thanks, he told her.

Dont mention it, she said. I didnt spend all that time healing your shoulder to let you go and
wreck it again.

The body was at the base of the slope. They knelt down beside it.

What are we looking for? she asked.

He tried not to think about what they were doing. He couldnt shake the notion that it was one step
removed from grave-robbingif very necessary grave-robbing.

A communications device of some kindthat is, if Ive guessed right about Tellers method of finding
his way through the maze. And even if its here, it wont be easy to locate. Lyneea searched him pretty
thoroughly and didnt find a thing.

Then its not in his pockets, concluded Crusher.

No. Not in anyobvious pockets, anyway. He played the beamlight on Tellers footwear. Try those.

His boots?

Just a hunch. I dont think Lyneea looked there.

The doctor removed the dead mans right boot and reached inside it. Immediately she turned to regard
Riker, and a grim smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Theres something here all right, she told him. A couple of somethings, in fact. A second later she
drew out a plastic rectangle.

A chit, said the first officer, recognizing it easily. He trained his light on it. A valuable one at
thatyou dont see too many of this denomination. And the thing was black. Issued by Madraga Rhurig.

What does that mean? asked the doctor, delving deeper with her narrow fingers.

Probably Tellers payoff, or at least the first installment. And since it came from Rhurig, thats
probably who hired him to steal the seal.

Crusher plucked out something else thenan object the size and shape of the chit but thicker.

As Riker illuminated it, she turned it over in her hand. It was silver, with four fingertip-size plates
and three tiny but separate readouts above them.

He had a pocket sewn inside his boot, explained Crusher, still looking a little incredulous. This fit
right inside it, along with the chit.

It looks Maratekkan, he observed. Theyre good at miniaturization. He pulled his glove off with his
teeth and held out his good hand. May I?

She gave it over. Cradling it in his palm, he fingered one of its plates. Immediately one of the
readouts became illuminated; numerals appeared.

Coordinates? ventured Crusher.

Thats what they look like, he agreed. When he touched another plate, the first readout died and a
second one sprang to life. It displayed the same sort of numerals.

The third plate triggered the bottommost readout, but that one was blank, as if it hadnt been
programmed. That left the fourth plate, which was set below the first three and centered.

Riker had an idea what it was for. Touching the first plate again, he reactivated the original set of
numerals. Then he tried the fourth plate.

Suddenly the thing started beeping. Not loudin fact, if it hadnt been for the silence all around them,
they might not have heard it at all. But it was loud enough.

Riker nodded, gripped the thing tighter. He looked at Crusher.

A homing mechanism, he told her. The louder this beeping gets, the closer one is to ones objective.

I see, said the doctor. She tapped the topmost readout with a fingernail. It looks as if its got two
active settings. You think that one of them will lead us to . . . whats it called again?

Fortunes Light.

Right. And the other setting, I imagine, would indicate the way out.

That would make sense, said Riker. Teller probably planted a transmitter near one of the exits.

So what are we waiting for? Lets follow the audio signal and

A sound. They froze at the same time and exchanged glances by the glow of the beamlight.

It could have been one of those skittering things, Riker told himself. There were enough of them down
here. But somehow, he didnt think so. The sound had been too heavy, too substantial. And it had been
isolated, with nothing before or after itas if whoever made the sound had realized it, and stopped
before he could make another one.

Riker jabbed a forefinger at the opening above them; Crusher nodded. They had to get out of there or
theyd be easy targets for whoever had followed them.

With a touch of his thumb, he eliminated the beeping. Then he pressed the device into the doctors hand
and led her up the slope.

You first, she whispered, as she stashed the thing in her tunic. She braced herself and held out her
hands.

He shook his head. No.

If Crusher went first, at least one of them had a shot at getting away. If they wasted time trying to
gethim out, they might both be caught.

And he couldnt allow that. They had just found the key to recovering Fortunes Light; it was important
that it not be lost again.

The doctor glared at him, but gave in. There was no time to protest and she knew it.

This time, Riker held out his handjust one, unfortunately, but Crusher was a slender woman. It would
have to do.

Placing her boot in his palm, grasping his good shoulder for balance, she launched herself up toward the
crossways-lying rock. Riker couldnt add anything to her effortit was all he could do to keep his hand
steady against the thrust of her heel.

But it turned out to be enough. And once the doctor had a good grasp on the rock, she managed to wrestle
her way out of the pit. It wasnt easy for herfar from it. But she managed.

All right, she gasped, leaning her head over the brink. Come on. Theres nobody aroundnot yet.

She held out her hand to him, but they both knew it was a token gesture. If he was going to get out, it
would be under his own power. And he had to make it on the first try; after that, with his strength at
low ebb already, the odds would drop precipitously.

Setting his teeth, Riker eased his arm out of the sling. His shoulder complained, sending shoots of fire
through the muscles in his back. He did his best to ignore them.

Hell,he told himself,this is nothing. If you cant take this, you might as well give up the whole idea .

Taking hold of the rocky projection hed used once before, he gathered himself and sprang for the cross-
piece. His hands hooked around either side of it. In the same motion, he swung his legs up and past,
until they found the lip of the pit.

Agony. Like talons shredding the newborn nerve ends in his shoulder. Like acid searing the raw, half-
formed flesh.

No time to breathe. No time to think about what would come next.

As Riker readjusted his grip on the rock, pushed with his feet and twisted, he cried outhe couldnt
help it. He thought his shoulder would give out before he could reach the top. He thought he would find
himself on his back next to his friend, hopeless, having spent the last of his strength.

He was wrong on all counts. On the other side of the blinding pain was Crusher. And the hard, reassuring
ground that surrounded the pit.

Come on, she was saying, trying to get him up off his back. Letsmove, Commander.

Cursing inwardly, he allowed her to help him to his feet. Then, slipping his bad arm back inside the
sling, he started off with her down the passageway.

It was getting late, he noted. Up above, the sky was approaching the color of twilight.

Behind them, there were footfallsdistinct now, unmistakable. It gave them a greater sense of urgency as
they negotiated a bend in the corridor and rushed through the gathering gloom.

They had a head start, he told himself. They could probably elude whoever was pursuing them.

But more than likely, there wereother pursuers in the maze. And maybe a few outside as well, waiting for
them to emerge.

A blaster would help to even the odds. It would help alot .

Making up his mind, Riker stopped dead in his tracks. A moment later, the doctor stopped tooand looked
back.

Whats the matter? she breathed.

Nothing. Just hoping our friend is well armed, thats all.

What doesthat mean?

We need a blaster, he explained. And I cant think of another way to get one. Slowly, as silently as
he could, he worked his way back to the twist in the passageway.

When he reached it, he listened. The footfalls were getting louder. Closer. Suddenly they stopped.

In the vicinity of the pit? Perhaps to see if anything had been disturbed?

After a moment the sounds of progress picked up again. Riker noticed how quickly night was falling, how
eagerly it was rushing to fill this place. But that was all right. Their pursuer would take that much
longer to spot them.

And by then, he hoped, it would be too late.

The scrape of boot soles on gravel, a little nearer now. Nearer still. He exchanged glances with the
doctor as she clung to the wall behind him. She frowned, unable to conceal her anxiety.

Turning back to the twist in the corridor, holding his breath, Riker closed his fingers into a fist.
Just another moment. Just one more second. But his timing would have to be perfect.

As their pursuer turned the corner, Will took a swing at him. But the man was shorter than hed
expected, and the blow was only a glancing one.

It gave the Impriman a chance to strike backand strike he did. Something hit Riker in the jawhard
enough to stagger him. As he recovered, trying to protect his injured arm, a light came out of nowhere
to blind him.

Run, he told Crusher, sweeping her behind himand knowing all the time how useless the gesture would
be. He didnt stand a chance against a blaster. And the doctor wouldnt get very far in the time it
would take Riker to fall.

Anyway, Crusher wasnt running. She was apparently going to stand her ground.

If Im going to die, she answered, throat tight, Im going to do it with dignity. And she stepped up
to stand alongside him.

He was proud of her for that.

Chits and whispers, said the voice behind the light. Why did you have to go and surprise me like
that?

He knew that voice. And hed never been so happy to hear it as he was now.

Lyneea, he said.

Youre damned right, she told him, lowering the beamlight a little. She rubbed her temple with the
fingers of one hand. What were you trying to do? End our partnership in one fell swoop?

He chuckled, massaging his jaw where shed struck him. I might ask the same of you. What in blazes are
you doing here anyway?

Keeping an eye on you, of course. Did you think Id leave you all alone, without protection?

You mean you were waiting outside the hotel? Watching over us?

Thatsjust what I mean.

He thought about it for a moment. But notjust to protect usright? You were hoping the assassin would
show upand try again.

Obviously. I had no other leads.

Riker sighed. Ive got to hand it to you, he said. Sentimental youre not.

And cooperativeyoure not. What kind of insanity possessed you to leave your suite? Do you know how
much more difficult it is to protect someone on the move?

You could have stopped me, he suggested.

But that would have ruined the plan. We would have lost the element of surprise.

Ah, he said. I forgotsorry.

Excuse me, said Crusher, but could we continue this elsewhere? I mean, our assassin friend may be
closer than we think. She looked around, shivered. Id feel a whole lot safer on theoutside of this
maze.

Lyneea nodded. Very sensible, Doctor. She regarded Riker. You would do well to take a lesson from
her.

The first officer cursed beneath his breath. Just what he neededarguments from both sides.

Suddenly something clattered against the stones beneath their feet. As the echoes died, Lyneea played
her light beam over it.

Whatsthat? she asked. More high-tech contraband?

Riker bent and picked it up. Just the thing thats going to lead us to Fortunes Light. And with a
flick of his finger, he activated the device. It started beeping again.

The expression on Lyneeas face was worth the soreness in his jaw.

Chapter Twelve

AND THAT, said Rikers intercom voice, is the long and the short of it.

Picard drummed his fingers on his desk, stood, pulled down on his tunic, and strolled thoughtfully
across his ready room.

Allow me to iterate, he told his first officer, who had seldom seemed so far away as he did now.
Disregarding the severity of your wound, you hoodwinked Dr. Crusher into letting you go off on what is
commonly known as a fishing expedition, despite the suspicion that whoever tried to kill you the first
time would almost certainly try again. Once in the maze, you were rewardedbeyond any reasonable
expectationwith the discovery of a homing device, which you believe has been programmed with the
location of Fortunes Light. And now you wish to test that theory again, despite the severity of your
wounds and the all-too-obvious fact that more able-bodied personnel are available. The captain cleared
his throat. Is that a fair summary, Number One?

Silence for a moment. I dont think Id use the word hoodwinked, sir. More silence. Not exactly.

Picard regarded his aquarium. Sometimes he wished he could place some of his officers in that tank;
certainly theyd be easier to keep tabs on. And they would have considerably fewer opportunities to take
foolish chances with their lives.

Then again, there were extenuating circumstances. One could not forget that Riker had lost a close
friend recently. That kind of experience had a way of jarring ones values.

Will, you are obviously playing a very deadly game down there. Would it not be wiser to have
someonehealthy working with Lyneea?

Picard could almost hear his first officer bristling. And hadnt he known what the answer would be, even
before he posed the question?

Im still the best man for the job, sir. Unless, of course, that was a thinly veiled order.

The captain grunted. No, Number One. It wasnt an order.

Then Id like to see this through, sir.

Picard nodded. What about some help? A small security contingent?

Not necessary, advised Riker. Were just going to find out where the seal is hidden. And Teller
wouldnt have hidden it anywhere he couldnt easily recover it.

Picard mulled it over. No, he agreed, I suppose not. He paused. But there is still the matter of
that assassin. And who can say hes working alone? His employer could have hired others as well.

Ive thought of that myself, sir. But a group of offworlders would just draw too much attention.
Remember, were still trying to keep the seals disappearance a secret. Besides, if someones really
determined to get me, an entourage isnt going to help.

The captain frowned. All right. Well do it your wayfor now. But I will take the precaution of
preparing an away team, in the event you should need help.

Fair enough, said Riker.

Picard considered the aquarium again. What about Dr. Crusher? What provisions have you made for her
safety?

Shell be well protected, the first officer told him. Lyneea has arranged for Madraga Criathis to
provide some retainers. Theyll be guarding the doctors hotel suite from the inside as well as the
outside.

Good. At least one of my people will come out of this alive.

Riker didnt respond to the gibe.

Incidentally, Number One, does your partner down there know of this conversation? Or will you be
continuing to communicate in clandestine fashion?

No, said Riker. She knows all right. In fact, sir, shes standing right here. Ive already explained
about that loophole in the high-tech ban, and she agreesfor the time being, anywaythat its a gray
area. So I dont expect any restrictions on our communications.

An exchange followedone that Picard couldnt hear very well. I beg your pardon, Commander?

Uhnothing, sir. Lyneea was just reminding me that we have to go. The merger ceremony is scheduled to
take place in fourteen hours.

I understand, Number One. But rememberstay in touch.

Will do, Captain.

Picard thought for a moment, then exited his ready room. As the more brightly lit, more spacious
environs of the bridge opened up before him, he turned toward Worf at Tactical.

The Klingon had already looked up from his instruments, as if hed sensed that an order was coming.

Lieutenant Worf, be ready to beam down to Besidia on short notice.

Trouble, sir? asked Worf.

Picard shook his head. Not yet, no. But I anticipate it. He glanced at the Ops station, where Data
usually sat. It was occupied by Lieutenant Solis. Isnt this Commander Datas shift? he asked.

No, sir, responded the Klingon. Commander Datas shift ended twenty minutes ago. He is
presentlyWorf punched up the informationin Holodeck One.

The captain noted that. Mr. Worf, I would like Commander Data to be ready to help out as well. Please
convey this to him. In person.

The security chief must have wondered at the order, but he didnt hesitate to obey it. Before Picard
could make himself comfortable in the command center, Worf had disappeared into the turbolift.

After the rain delay the Icebreakers put a new pitcher on the mound. As Data understood it, the first
pitchers arm had tightened up, and it was feared he would no longer be effective. Or that he would
strain his arm if he continued to pitch. Or both. The answer depended on which infielder he consulted in
his search for insight.

As luck would have it, the new pitcher threw to only two batters. The first one walked. The second one
tripled into the gap in left center field.

The Icebreakers third pitcher was a little more stingy. But with two outs, he allowed a single over
second base. The Sunset runner came in from third with the go-ahead run, making the score three to one
in favor of the Phoenix team.

Terwilliger sat and fumed in one corner of the dugout. No one went near himneither players nor coaches.
No one dared. For as Jackson explained to Data while the fourth Icebreaker pitcher was warming up,
Terwilliger felt responsible for the unfortunate turn of events.

Why should that be? asked the android. He was not on the field. We were. If anyone is to blame, we
are.

Jackson shook his head. Hes the manager. He frowned at the sky and its tattered clouds, perhaps
wondering why the rain had to come when it did. If he had put in somebody else, the game might still be
tied. Whos he going to blamethe public address announcer?

The last out for the Sunsets came on a curveball, Data noted. A curveball that was popped up to Galanti
at first.

The android sympathized with the batter.

The pitching coach, a large, red-faced man, stood and clapped his hands as the players came in from the
field. All right, he roared. Lets get em back. Lets get something started here.

Data was only too glad to comply. As the leadoff hitter, he lingered in the dugout only long enough to
deposit his glove and secure a bat. Then he bounced back out and headed for home plate.

The Sunset pitcher was in back of the mound, already twirling the ball in his bare hand while he waited
for his teammates to find their positions. By the time the android took his place in the batters box,
the infielders were already set. A few seconds later the outfielders reached their destinations as well,
and the pitcher ascended to the rubber.

Play ball, called the umpire.

The pitcher went into his motion. Data crouched slightly and drew the bat back. The first time the ball
became visible, whipping around from behind the pitchers back, the android riveted his attention to it.
It flew straight and true.

Not a curveball, he observedand was pleased by the fact. Keeping his eye on it, he prepared to drive it
over the fence. After all, he had no trouble hitting fastballs.

The ball came whizzing toward him. Data began to step forward, to put his weight into his swing.

There was only one possibility he wasnt prepared for. And of course,that was the one that presented
itself.

Instead of hurtling over home plate, or at least in that general direction, the ball came right at Data.
Before he could avoid it, it had plunked him on the shoulder.

Out on the mound, the pitcher kicked at the dirt. Take yer base, barked the home plate umpire.

For a moment, Data just stood there. He felt as if hed been cheated somehow, as if that fastball should
have been sailing out of the stadium now, instead of lying motionless at his feet.

But rules were rules. A batter hit by a pitch had no option but to go to first base. Reconciling himself
to that reality, the android dropped his bat and started down the base path.

Wait a minute, stormed Terwilliger, charging out of the dugout. The team trainer, an older man with a
thick crop of white hair, was right behind him.

Data was a little surprised by the managers concern. Until now, Terwilliger had not shown any great
affinity for him.

Perhaps, he mused, his gruff manner was a charade. A mask he used to conceal his true affection for his
players.

Then he realized that the manager wasnt heading for him. He was heading for the umpire.

Time out, called the man in blue, turning to confront Terwilliger.

What kind of bullhinkey isthis? growled the manager, coming up just short of a collision. Youre
gonna let them throw at my cleanup batter?

Give me a break, said the umpire. He was leading off, and Cordobans up next. Theyd becrazy to throw
at him. The ball just got away.

Data could hear their words clearly and distinctly, despite the growing clamor in the stands. It was one
of the benefits of being an android.

Theythrew at him, I tell ya! Terwilliger turned his cap around and put his nose in the other mans
face. I want that pitcher tossed out on his behind!

The umpire was obviously trying to remain composed. But he also wasnt giving an inch. Im not throwing
him out, he said, so forget it.

By this time, the other Icebreakers had been drawn to the top step of the dugout, and it did not take
the talents of a Deanna Troi to divine their hostility.

Then Im protesting the game, yelled Terwilliger, his eyes bulging. This is a mother-lovinoutrage!
And he turned to the crowd along the first base line, raising his arms as if in appeal. The spectators
responded with an ear-shattering roar. Next he turned to the other side of the field. Another roar,
louder than the first.

I know what youre trying to do, said the umpire.

Oh, yeah? said Terwilliger, rounding on him. And whats that?

Youre trying to get me to throw you out. So your teamll get riled up and do some damage.

Whats wrong with that? snarled Terwilliger, kicking dirt on the other mans shoes with all the energy
he could muster.

Nothingexcept Im not going along with it.

Why not? asked the manager, flinging his hat into the pile of dirt. Dontcha have any self-respect?

Because it isnt fair, maintained the umpire. Besides, if tossyou out, then McNabs going to want to
get ejected, too. McNab, Data knew, was the manager of the Sunsets.

Terwilliger chomped and swore. You mean Ive got to bringfamily into this? Is that what youre telling
me?

The umpires features hardened.

I hate to do it, snapped the manager. Ireally, really do.

Then get back to your dugout, instructed the man in blue.

Not on your life, said Terwilliger, planting his index finger in the umpires chest. And he proceeded
to reel off a string of derogatory remarks the likes of which Data had never heard. The android believed
that even a Klingon would have been shocked.

By the time Terwilliger had finished, he was the color of molten lava. And the umpire was heaving him
from the gameonly figuratively, of course, though he looked as though hed have liked to do it
literally.

Come on, said the Icebreakers trainer, taking Data by the arm. By the way, youre not hurt or
anything, are you?

The android shook his head. No. Thank you. And still mulling over what had transpired, he allowed the
older man to escort him to first base.

What an actor, chuckled the trainer.

An actor, repeated Data. You mean Terwilliger?

Sure do. He was just itching for an excuse to come out here. If you hadnt given it to him, hed have
had to make one up. He chuckled again. Its moments like these that make me put off retirement.

Suddenly the crowd grew loud again. Data turned, expecting to see Terwilliger milking his ejection.

But that wasnt the case at all. In fact, Terwilliger seemed to be as riveted as everyone else as a
powerful figure strode out onto the field.

Blazes, said the trainer. Whos the guy in the Halloween costume?

That is not a guy, explained the android. That is Lieutenant Worf.

Worf was halfway across the diamond when he noticed the uniformed men pouring out of the stands. Before
hed gotten much farther, he realized their purpose: to detain him.

Where do you think youre going? asked one.

Heyyou, called another. Were talking to you. Dont make it hard on yourself.

Yes.Definitely to detain him.

Instinctively, Worf rose to the challenge, whirling and bracing himself. As his nearest pursuer charged
him, the Klingon stepped aside like a matador and used the mans momentum to send him sprawling. The
next two came at once; the first took a kick to the solar plexus, the second a fist to the jaw.

However, the paired maneuvers left Worf vulnerable, precariously balanced. And as the rest of his
uniformed adversaries swarmed over him, he went down rather unceremoniously. Nor was it easy to get up
again; holodeck simulacrums were every bit as heavy as they looked.

Kicking and smashing, tearing and slithering, he did his best to work free of the tangle. Anyone else
would have acknowledged that he was fighting a losing battlebut Worf was notanyone .

Damn you, hold still, yelled an adversary.

Hey, George . . . I dont think thats a mask.

Ofcourse its a mask. Nobodysthat ugly.

Worf struggled with renewed fury.Ugly, was it? He would show these slugs howugly a Klingon could . . .

Pause, said a voiceone that Worf recognized.

Suddenly the comments stopped. And so did his adversaries attempts to subdue him. With as much dignity
as possible, the Klingon climbed out from under the pile.

He found Data waiting for him with an outstretched hand. The android looked more than a little
apologetic.

I hope you are not injured, he said. I would have stopped the program sooner, but you appeared to be
enjoying yourself.

Worf ignored the hand and got to his feet. Whoare they? he asked, looking back at the mound of
simulated humanity. I did not know you were partial to combat programs.

I am not, answered Data. The main activity here is something called a baseball game, a spectator
sport of the twenty-first century. He indicated the uniformed ones. These security guards are present
to keep the crowd from endangering the players and, of course, one another.

Worf couldnt believe his ears. These,he said, aresecurity guards? He grunteda sound that another
Klingon would have recognized as an expression of disdain. They dishonor the title. A dozen of them
could not subdue a lone intruder.

To be fair, said the android, they were unaccustomed to dealing with an intruder like you.

The Klingon allowed the truth of that, but it did not raise the guards in his esteem. He believed that
security personnel should be prepared for anything. Then another question occurred to him.

Why did they attack me, he asked, and not you?

I am disguised by a persona function, explained Data. When the simulacrums look at me, they see
someone called Bobo Bogdonovichthe role Commander Riker intended to play when he created this program.
You, on the other hand, are extraneous to this milieu. Since the security guards did not recognize you,
they attempted to remove you from the field. A pause. Nor could your Klingon appearance have helped
matters any. In the twenty-first century, mankind had not yet seen a Klingon.

Mankinds loss, mused Worf. As for the persona function, he probably should have thought of that
himselfthough in his own holodeck programs, he wove in no such protection. After all, it was essential
that his enemies recognize him if they were to engage one another in battle.

But this was all beside the point. He had come here for a reason, and he apprised Data of the
fact.Without any further pleasantries.

The captain sent me. He wants you to be ready in case it becomes necessary to join Commander Riker in
Besidia.

That seemed to pique the androids curiosity. I thought Commander Riker was incapacitated.

He is. Apparently, he has decided to forge ahead anyway.

Worf did not disguise his admiration, though he would have expected no less of Riker. The first officer
was not easily daunted.

Data nodded. I see. You may consider me alerted.

The Klingon rumbled his acknowledgment of the fact and turned to leave.

Lieutenant?

Worf looked back, saw the inquisitive expression on the androids face. He hoped that the question would
not be a long one, though experience had taught him to expect otherwise.

Certainly you could have contacted me via the ships intercom, said Data. Is there some reason you
chose to deliver your message in person?

Yes, said the Klingon. I was ordered to do so. Then, before he could be interrogated any further, he
exited the holodeck.

As soon as Worf was gone, Data commanded the computer to resume the programbut at the point just prior
to the Klingons unannounced visit. At once the stadium came back to life.

Its moments like these, said the trainer, that make me put off retirement.

Indeed, replied the android.

On the playing field, things were beginning to settle down again. The Sunset pitcher was back on the
mound, the defensive players had taken up their positions, and Cordoban was approaching the plate.

The trainer was still descending the dugout steps when the pitch came. Cordoban hit it hard to the right
of the shortstop, who dove to knock the ball down. Then, after picking it up with his bare hand, he
threw it to second basejust in time to beat the sliding Bobo.

However, Cordoban reached first base before the relay throw. So the Icebreakers still had a runner at
firstjust adifferent runner. And, of course, there was one out.

As Data returned to the Icebreaker dugout, he was surprised to see Terwilligers face peering out of the
stairwell that led to the clubhouse. Hadnt the manager been ejected from the contest?

He asked Denyabe about it. Come on, said the second baseman. Youre kidding, right? Even in the
minors, managers dont leave when theyre ejected. At least they didnt whenI was in the minors.

It was another nuance of the game that Data had been unprepared for. He filed it away with all the
others.

The next batter up was Augustyn. To the delight of the fans as well as his teammates on the bench, he
doubled down the right field line. That put runners on second and third with only one man out.

Jackson batted after Augustyn. He worked the count to three balls and two strikes before lofting the
next pitch deep to center field. Data judged by the accolades all around him that it was deep enough for
Cordoban, the runner on third, to tag up and score.

In the end it accomplished more than that. When Augustyn tried to tag up as well, the Sunset center
fielder made a poor throw to third. The ball squibbed into the Sunset dugout, and Augustyn was waved
home.

Once again, the score was tied. It made for a jubilant moment in the Icebreaker dugout when Cordoban and
Augustyn came trotting down the steps, with Jackson on their heels.

No one even seemed to care when Cherry struck out to end the inning.

*   *   *

The turbodoors opened, admitting Worf back onto the bridge. Picard turned and their eyes met.

All is in readiness, said the chief of security, in response to the unspoken question. Commander Data
has been briefed.

Picard nodded. Thank you, Lieutenant. He paused, and the Klingon remained where he was, perceiving
that the captain required something else.How well you have come to know me, Worf . I would like a word
with you. In my ready room.

Rising out of his command chair, Picard headed for his private office. He strode past the Klingon; the
doors slid aside and they entered.

As he rounded his desk, the captain gestured to the seat on the other side of it. Please, he said.
Sit.

Worf sat. He regarded Picard with hooded eyes, but said nothing. It was the humans prerogative to speak
first in this situation, and they both knew it.

The captain leaned back in his chair. I must confess, he said, I am more than a little curious as to
what Data is doing in that holodeck. Which is why I had you relay my orders in person . . .

Suddenly a soft beeping came from the vicinity of the door. Sighing, Picard responded: Come.

When the doors parted, Geordi came striding in, as full of energy and enthusiasm as ever. Just wanted
you to know, he said, that those enhancements are already paying dividends. I just

He was halfway inside the cabin before he noticed the captain wasnt alone.

Oops, blurted Geordi. Sorry, sir. I didnt know you had company.

That is all right, Commander. Actually I was going to call you as soon as Worf and I were finished. You
might as well pull up a chair and join us.

Geordi glanced at the Klingon, shrugged. If Im not interrupting, sure. And with that, he slipped
agreeably into the chair next to Worfs.

We were talking about Mr. Data, remarked Picard. And his fascination with that holodeck program. He
indicated his security chief. I just sent Worf to visit him in the holodeckto alert him to the
possibility that he may be needed on an away team.

In support of Commander Riker, supplied Geordi.

Precisely. Of course, I could have sent the order via ships intercom . . .

The engineering officer nodded. But you wondered what Data was up to.

The captain made a steeple of his fingers, taking the time to choose his words carefully. I am not a
busybody, he said finally. Normally, what people do in their off-duty hours is their own business.
However, the last time Mr. Data spent so much time in a holodeck, he was helping his android prodigy to
select a species and a gender. I do not want something like that happening again without my knowing it.

Geordi waved away even the suggestion of it. Not to worry, he said. First of all, this program wasnt
even Datas idea.

Picard looked at him. Then whose idea was it?

Commander Rikers. Its a baseball game he plucked out of the history books. Data just adopted itwith
permission, of course.

The captain smiled. Baseball, eh?

Geordi tilted his head. Youre familiar with the sport, sir?

I have a nodding acquaintance with it, Picard said. He thought for a moment. But why has Data become
so absorbed in it?

You know, replied Geordi, I asked him the same question, more or less. He said hed thought about it
a lot, but didnt have an answer.

Picard grunted. Care to venture a guesseither of you?

Worf just scowled. Apparently, the experience had been a bit too alien for him.

Geordi was somewhat more daring. This is only a guess, he warned, but I think Data feels . . . well,
a kinship with the characters in the program.

Kinship? echoed the captain. How so?

Geordis brow wrinkled. Obviously he hadnt thought this all the way through yet. But he went on anyway,
groping for the logical conclusion. Because theyre man-made, he said at last. Because theyre like
him.

Picard shook his head. Only on the surface, Commander. Mr. Data is an autonomous life-form. He is not
dependent on some external mechanism for his existence.

Isnt he? Geordi wondered out loud. In fact, arent weall? Lets say the ship suddenly vanished out
from under us. How long would we last in the vacuum of space? Of all of us, Data would be the only
survivor. And even he would succumb eventuallyif not to cold and radiation, then to the inexorable tug
of Imprimas gravity.

The captain drew a breath, let it out. I see what you mean, Commander. And your point is well taken.

Picard was touched by a feeling of déjà vu. Hadnt he had this conversation with someone once before?

Or was it a conversation hed had with himselfsometime during the many hours hed spent trying to
define intelligent life, if not for the Federation, then at least for Jean-Luc Picard? Since the day he
entered space, his most heartfelt beliefs on that subject had been turned on their ear more than once.
And Data had done much of the turning.

Worf was looking at Geordi with narrowed eyes. Commander, are you suggesting that Datas loyalty may be
divided? Naturally, that would be of concern to the head of security, whether he believed it or not.

Not at all, said Geordi. Im just saying that Data feels a responsibility to these characters. He
doesnt want to let them down, any more than he would want to letus down.

In what way might he do that? asked the captain.

Data wants to help them win the game, sir. Thats something they didnt do historically. But he seems
to feel they have a victory coming to them. He stopped, stroked his chin. One of them in
particularthe manager, a fellow named Terwilliger.

The manager?

An administrative position. Hes like . . . well, like a captain, if you want to stretch it a little.

Picard digested that. So Data wants simply to do a good deed. To rectify, in some sense, the way
history has maltreated this individual. And the rest of the team as well.

Thats it in a nutshell, Geordi agreed. To tell you the truth, I dont know if he has a prayer.
History can be a pretty tough opponent. But hes got to try. If he just gives it his best shot, I think
hell feel hes done his bit for his teammates. Hell feel hes earned their respect.

The captain leaned forward again. Well, he said, one certainly cant fault him for that. Particularly
when hes got his superiors reputation at heart, eh?

Geordi chuckled. Worfs scowl deepened.

Tell me, said the captain. Would I like this . . . what did you say his name was? Terwilliger?

Thats right, sir, said the engineering chief. Terwilliger. But as for liking him . . . I dont think
so. Not from what Data told me.

Picard had expected otherwise, but he refrained from saying so. Very well then, gentlemen. Carry on.

As his officers departed, the captain stood. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit to Holodeck One himself.

Chapter Thirteen

HEYYOU! How the hellja get in here?

Picard considered the smallish, wiry man in front of the primitive viewscreen. What was that technology
called again? Television? Yes, television.

Actually, said the captain, holding out his hands in a gesture of helplessness, I dropped in to visit
an associate. Perhaps you know himBobo Bogdonovich?

He was glad he had obtained some details from the computer before entering the holodeck. Fortunately,
the program was an open one, neither Riker nor Data having been inclined to close it.

Bogdonovich? echoed the wiry man, his anger and surprise giving way to curiosity. He give you a pass
or something?

Why, yes, said Picard. As a matter of fact, he did. He pointed to a rectangle of blue sky balanced
at the top of a short flight of steps. Hes not up there, is he?

The man screwed up his face. Of course hes up there. What didja think? Theyre playin a damned game,
right? And hes one of the players, so where the devilelse would he be?

The captain smiled. Thank you, he said, and started for the patch of blue.

Just hold on there a second, buddy. The man interposed himself between Picard and the exit. You cant
just go out there, no matterwhat kind of pass you have. Thats the dugout, fer cryin out loud.

The captain took stock of the situation and realized it might be a difficult one. Suspend program, he
said. Abruptly the wiry man fell silent, though his mouth remained open, in mid-argument.

As he straightened his linen sport jacket, Picard walked past the frozen figure and up the stairs.
Shading his eyes against the brightness of that blue sky, he almost bumped into someone huddled on the
topmost stepsomeone apparently trying to peek out of the aperture without being seen himself.

The man was in a uniform; logic dictated that he was part of a team. But he was certainly no athletenot
with that belly hanging over his belt. A suggestion bobbed up from the depths of Picards memories.
Wasnt there something called a batboy in these baseball games? Maybe that was this ones function.

No. Batboys were youngsters, werent they? And this grizzled specimen was anything but young.

Negotiating a path around the man, the captain came out on the dugout level. From here he could see the
playing fielda stretch of green that, from his eye-level perspective, seemed to go on forever.

Greetings, sir.

Picard looked up and saw Data standing to one side of the dugout. He was dressed in the same uniform as
the man on the stairs. One hand held a leather mitt; the other dangled by his side.

The captain smiled by way of acknowledgment. Hello, Data. I hope you dont mind my coming by. I just
wanted to, er

To see what I was up to, suggested the android.

Thats right.

Then Mr. Worfs report was insufficient?

Picard chuckled. How did you know I sent Worf?

He told me so, explained Data. Though perhaps not in so many words.

The captain nodded. You know, Data, you really are becoming quite perceptive.

Thank you, said the android. But truthfully, your intent was not difficult to deduce. After all,
given my recent efforts with Lal in one of the holodecks

Yes, Picard interjected, not wishing to rehash a topic Data might find painful. Or was ithe who might
find it painful? I see that you have anticipated my concern.

The android nodded. But perhaps not far enough in advance. When I began spending so much time here, I
should have apprised you of what I was doing. I should have set your mind at ease.

The captain shrugged good-naturedly. Water under the bridge, I say. And in point of fact, it was more
than concern that drew me here. It was curiosity as well.

Data looked at him. Curiosity, sir?

Indeed. You see, I have heard bits and pieces about this program. From Mr. Worf, of course. And also
from Commander La Forge. I thought I should see it for myselfthat is, of course, if you dont object.

The android shook his head. Certainly not. After all, it is only on loan to me in the first place. He
paused. Do you wish to participate in the game? I could alter the program to

No, Data. That will not be necessary. He looked out at the sea of humanity in the stands, gestured
across the field. I think Ill just take a seat and watch. Like everyone else.

As you wish, sir.

But first, perhaps you could point someone out to me. He surveyed the faces in the dugout. Someone
named Terwilliger, I believe. The man in charge of your team.

Of course, said the android. That would be the individual just behind you. The one hiding in the
stairwell.

The captain turned to take a second look at the man. It was no more impressive than the first.

This,he said, is Terwilliger?

Yes, maintained Data. The manager of the Fairbanks Icebreakers. And now, sir, if you dont mind, I
would like to see the program continued.

Picard forced himself to regain his composure. Sorry, he said earnestly. I will find a seat
immediately.

Climbing out of the dugout, he wandered out near the pitchers mound and scanned the stands for an empty
chair. Not an easy task, considering how full the place was. Spotting a vacancy just a couple of rows
behind the third base line, he headed in that direction.

It was no trouble at all to vault the rail that separated the spectators from the field. And though made
of hard plastic, the seat was more comfortable than it looked.

All right, called the captain. Resume program.

Suddenly the stands were awash with the sounds of the crowd. In the seat to Picards right, a child
looked up at him wide-eyed.

Daddy, he said, tugging at an elbow on the other side of him, theres a man there.

The youngsters father glanced at the captain. Thats right, Robby. Theres a man there.

But, Dad, he wasnt there before.

Sure he was. He just got up to get a hot dog or something.

I dont think so, Dad. I think hewasnt there.

Ssh, hissed his father. LookGiordano is up. He tore the cover off the ball last time. Andwhat is
it, Katie?

Daddy, I have to go.

Jeez, Katie, cant it wait? Giordano . . .

Picard grunted softly.Children . He turned his attention back to the game.

As it happened, Data was standing closer to him than any other player, guarding the third base line, as
one was supposed to do in the late innings. Whats more, the captain noted, the android looked
comfortable at his positionslightly crouched, weight forward, as if about to charge home plate, his
glove low to the ground.

Having observed that much, Picard peered into the Icebreaker dugout, where he was able to catch a
glimpse of Terwilligers less-than-noble visage. He shook his head.

The man hardly looked like the sort who could lead. But then, not every great leader looked the part.

Just then the crowd moaneda huge sound, almost frightening if one was unprepared for itand got to its
feet as if it were one colossal entity. Unable to see, Picard got to his feet as wellin time to see a
Sunset player rounding the bases.

Apparently he had missed something. A home run, if the Sunset players leisurely trot was any
indication. There were boos from the crowd, to which the base runner responded by doffing his cap. The
boos got louder.

Hardly an example of good sportsmanship, the captain mused. On either side.

And then he noticed a flurry of activity along the Icebreaker bench. He jockeyed for a better look.
Finally, peering between two other spectators, he saw what was happening.

It was Terwilliger. With a bat. And he no longer seemed interested in concealing himself. Rather, he was
intent on destroying a water cooler at the far end of the dugout.

The process didnt take long. A moment later, the coolers water-filled container exploded with a loud
crash, sending water and glass flying in every direction.

Picard looked at Data. The android must have sensed his scrutiny somehow, because he looked
backapologetically, as if it were he who had annihilated the water cooler. The captain consciously
softened his expression.

Freeze program, he said quietly.

As before, everything came to a halt. He climbed past the statuelike spectators, vaulted the rail again,
and approached Data.

The android anticipated his remarks: It is his nature, sir. And itwas the go-ahead run.

Picard glanced at the Icebreaker bench. It was a study in chaosan umpire standing at the top step,
gesturing dramatically. Terwilliger holding the bat aloft, as if threatening to strike the umpire next.
The players and coaches clustered at the opposite end of the bench, having sought protection there from
the exploding water cooler.

Data, he said, turning back to his fellow officer, there isno justification for such behavior.
Certainly not from one who has been designated a leader. He took the time to choose his words
carefully, and the android remained patient, if troubled-looking. As I understand it, your . . .
affinity for this program has much to do with that man. But I fail to see how he inspires such
dedication. Such loyalty. He frowned. Without question, you are entitled to your opinions. However, it
concerns me that you have selected this Terwilliger as a role model. Is he really worth your time? Your
respect?

The android shook his head. It is not a matter of respect, sir. It never was.

Picard regarded him. He searched those golden eyes, that childlike countenance.

No? Then what is it that inspires you so?

Datas brow wrinkled ever so slightly. I believe, Captain, that it is called compassion.

That put matters in an entirely different light. Picard nodded, then breathed a small sigh of relief. He
had feared that the android might be losing his moral perspective, enthralled by some inexplicable
fascination with Terwilliger.

But it was quite the contrary. The androids moral perspective was coming along quite nicely.

Sorry, the captain said. Again. I should have known better than to doubt you, Data.

Do not give it a second thought, replied the android. It is easy to jump to conclusions, sir.

Picard wondered if hed been rebuked.What the hell. I deserved it, didnt I?

I am going to return to the stands now, he told Data.

That would be best, I believe.

And they went back to their respective positions.

They had set out immediately after Riker made his report to the captain. The streets were dark and
deserted, hushed, blanketed by a newly fallen snow. The only sound was the homing devices soft but
insistent beeping.

After some trial and error, they were able to determine the general direction of the signals source.
And to follow it, along silent, winding streets that seemed to resent their intrusion.

Riker had never seen Besidia at this hour. There was a certain calm, an elegance almost, that he would
never have associated with the carnival town.

Lyneea seemed different, too. Softer, more vulnerable. As if she wasnt quite awake enough yet to be as
hard-boiled as she would have liked.

Slowly but surely the signal took them away from the heart of the city. Away from the shops and the
hotels and the taverns into the residential neighborhoods, which became more and more well-to-do as they
progressed.

And finally it led them hereto this eight-foot-high stone wall that blocked their passage.

Riker stood before it, Tellers homing device nestled in the palm of his gloved hand. Snow was falling;
a couple of fat flakes hit the tiny digital display and clung there, turned ruby red by the
illumination.

He touched the devices lowermost plate with the forefinger of his other hand. The thing started beeping
again, a little louder than the last time theyd activated it.

Lyneea nodded. This is where it wants us to go, all right.

The human considered the barrier. He could see shards of broken glass embedded in the concrete at the
top of it. A primitive but effective way of ensuring privacy.

He grunted. Who would go to the trouble of putting up a wall here?

Who indeed, added Lyneea, but a madraga?

Then this is part of an estate, said Riker.

So it would seem. And only one madraga has holdings in this part of town. She looked at him. Terrin.

He nodded. Now that he knew who owned the place, he began to recognize the grounds. Hed been here
before, of course, though hed never approached the estate from this side.

Thats interesting, he said, considering Terrins the madraga that Criathis is merging with.

Lyneea nodded. Your friend hid the seal under the noses of the people most likely to be offended by its
absence.

But why would he do that?

His partner shrugged. We can only speculate. Perhaps he just appreciated the irony. Perhaps he planned
to expose the seals location at some point, thereby making it look as if Terrin had stolen it, and
ensuring that the merger would never go through. She bit her lip. At any rate, an interested third
party, such as Madraga Rhurig, wouldnt really have cared if it had the thing in its possessiononly
that Criathisdidnt have it. Conlon could have been paid just to hide it until the merger fell apart.

Riker pondered the possibilities. Good point, he told her. He regarded the wall. But there will be
plenty of time to sort this outafter we recover Fortunes Light.

Agreed. Can you make it over the wall?

With a little help. He slipped his arm out of the sling.

Youve got it.

Planting herself by the base of the barrier, Lyneea bent down to give the human a step up. He took
advantage of it, balancing on her back before finding a space relatively free of glass shards and
clambering up as best he could. Once again he remarked inwardly on her deceptive sturdiness.

Up? asked Lyneea.

Up, he answered. Need a hand?

No.

His offer refused, he slithered down the far side of the wall. The snow had drifted deeper here; it was
up to the tops of his boots. He replaced the sling.

A moment later Lyneea joined him. She landed like a cat, gracefully.

They looked out on the rolling fields that constituted the grounds of the estate. The place was
pristine, beautiful, interrupted only by a few tall, stately trees. In the distance there was a stone
house, not all that big but classically intricate in its design.

It brought back memories.

Lets try the device again, said his partner.

Riker activated it, expecting to hear the beeping. There wasnt any. But a change had come over the
digital display. It now showed only three numerals: seven, four, and three.

Whats the matter? asked Lyneea. Dont tell me the damned things broken.

Im not sure, he told her, but I think it switched over to another modeautomatically. He looked
around. Maybe because weve gotten within a certain radius of the transmitter.

He took a few steps away from the wall, and the three became a two. Another few steps, and it turned
into a zero.

Anything happening?

As a matter of fact, yes. Ive got a three-digit number here, and as we get closer to our objective,
the number decreases. Or at least, thats how it looks.

Then theoretically, said Lyneea, when it gets down to zero, we will have reached the seal.

Thats right.

So what are we waiting for? Lets go.

Riker went. And as he did, the number continued to decline. The display read five-nine-nine before he
realized the direction in which they were going.

You know, said Lyneea, were heading toward the house.

Ive noticed, he told her. But its not as if weve got a choice. Lets just be as careful as
possible, and hope were not spotted.

It made sense, didnt it? Using the house as a heading now, he kept his eyes open for Imprimans,
checking the homing device only from time to time. The number kept on diminishing at a steady rate.

At this rate, observed Lyneea, well bein the house before were finished.

Riker estimated the distance. He shook his head. Not quite. I think well wind up by that tree there.
He pointed. The last one.

She made a derisive sound. Thatsalmost in the house, isnt it?

Want to turn back?

His partner scowled. It didnt make her any less lovely, he noticed. Ill shut up, she assured him.

By the time they reached the vicinity of the tree, they were down to a single digit on the readout. And
then, as they got near enough to touch it, the digit became zero.

All ashore, said Riker.

I beg your pardon?

An old Earth expression. It means weve reached our destination. And still no sign of a guard or
anyone else. Theyd been lucky so far.

Lyneea pointed to the ground at their feet. It was a smooth patch, nestled between two of the trees
immense roots and covered, like everything else in Besidia, with snow. Here? she asked.

Here.

She removed a pouch from her belt, knelt, and emptied its contents on the frozen ground. It was a small
sharp-bladed shovel that came in two parts. As Lyneea put them together, she surveyed the spot.

He couldnt have buried it too deep, right? That would have taken too much time.

Riker shrugged. I dont know. If he was using a blaster, it might not have taken much time at all.

She looked up at him. Nowtheres a cheery thought. Then she shook her head. No. A blaster would have
scarred these roots. And I dont see any scars. She jammed the shovel blade into the earth. Why dont
you keep an eye out while I do some work?

As she bent to the task, the human surveyed the grounds of the estate. They were as tranquil as deep
space, as serene as an uninhabited planetoid. A light breeze tickled the hair on his chin where it
jutted out from his hood.

The house might have been empty, it was so quietthough, more likely, it was just that no one was up
yet. On the side of the structure that faced them there was a large oval window. Inside it Riker could
see the well-appointed library that he and Teller had once visited.

He watched the window for a couple of seconds, just to make certain no one was looking out at them.
Satisfied, he turned away.

But as he did so, he glimpsed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Ducking instinctively behind the
tree, he took another look.

This time there was no mistaking it. Someone was on the other side of the window. And not just anyone.

A Ferengi.

Damn, he said.

When Lyneea saw him take cover, shed hunkered down a little lower herself. What is it? she asked.
Have we been seen?

Riker shook his head. Thats not what made me jump. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the house.
Theres a Ferengi in there.

Lyneea regarded him. Are you certain?

Take a look for yourself.

She peeked around the side of the tree. And cursed.

There arent supposed to be any Ferengi on Imprima, said Lyneea. Under penalty of law.

But theres one here, said Riker. Smuggled in somehow as the guest of Madraga Terrin.

She took a breath, let it out. It dissipated on the wind. Treachery, she concluded.

Riker nodded. Terrin hasnt fared well under the Federation treaty, has it?

Not as well as when we were trading with the Ferengi. But that was the whole point of the mergerto put
Terrin in a better position to benefit from the Federation agreement.

Obviously the Ferengi made them a better offer. He thought about it. Terrin is the wealthier party in
the merger, isnt it? So its first official, Larrak, would be first official of the newly merged entity
as well. With that kind of power, he could cut any number of deals with the other madraggi.

Enough to vote the Federation out and the Ferengi back in.

Not exactly what Criathis had in mind, eh?

Far from it.

He had a thought. And Terrin may have killed Teller as well. If he came here to bury the seal and screw
up the merger, and noticed the Ferengi as we did . . .

Theyd have killed him for it. Without a second thought, said Lyneea. Just as theyll kill us if they
find us here. Her eyes narrowed. But then, what was Conlon doing in the maze?

Thats probably just where they chose to dump him. They couldnt have anticipated that Norayan would
think to look for him there. He pursued the thought to its logical conclusion. It was just dumb luck
that she found his body. And those settings on the device, for getting out of the mazethey must have
been left over from his lovers trysts.

As they spoke, another figure came into view on the other side of the window. He was taller than the
average Impriman, and even slimmer. Nor had he changed much in five years.

Larrak, spat Lyneea. And hes greeting the Ferengi.

That cinches it, said Riker. Weve got to alert Criathis. He started to move away, but she grabbed
his good arm.

What about the seal? she asked.

Leave it here for now. Whats the difference? When Criathis finds out what Larrak has in mind, they
wont want to go through with the merger anyway. Then, when all the dust clears, you can recover it at
your leisure.

Lyneea frowned. Fortunes Light isnt something thats needed only for the merger. Nor is it merely a
family heirloom. Its the heart and soul of the madragathe most precious thing we own. Her frown
deepened. We cant just let it lie in the ground, not when were so close to recovering it.

He sighed, moved back toward the tree. All right. Lets just be quick about it.

Thatwas my intention, she told him.

She resumed digging. In the meantime, Riker watched Larrak and the Ferengi. Fortunately they were too
engrossed in their conversation to take any notice of what was going on outside.

After a while, Larrak poured a liquidprobably a liqueurinto a couple of ornate goblets. The Ferengi
said something, and they put their goblets together in a toast.

It made Rikers stomach turn. To murder someone for the sake of profit . . .

Ah, said Lyneea. Thrusting her blade into the earth one last time, she put her weight on the handle
and used it as a lever. A moment later, something rose from the earth with great reluctance. It was
small, covered with some rough variety of hide.

You were right, he noted. He didnt bury it too deep.

A fact for which I am most grateful. Laying aside her shovel, she began to unwrap the package.
Suddenly she raised her head and looked around. Whats that?

He tried to follow her gaze. Whats what?

That sound. Like . . . oh,no.

Now he heard it, too, and recognized it immediately.

Isakki, he snapped.

A couple of seconds later he saw them. Four or five of them, deadly black streaks on the otherwise
flawless fields of snow. A couple of Terrins retainers ran behind them, struggling to keep up. And they
were all coming from the spot where he and Lyneea had climbed the wall.

Weve got to get out of here, he told her, pulling her up off the ground.Now.

She resisted just long enough to grab up the seal. Then she ran along behind him.

Riker didnt know where he was headed. He just knew that he didnt want to be caught in those powerful
jaws. And the only place that seemed to offer shelter was the house.

What are you doing? asked Lyneea. There may be more retainers inside!

And more isakki as well, if his last visit here was any indication. But he didnt have time to stop and
think about it.

Their only chance was to get into the library, somehow neutralize Larrak and the Ferengi, lock the doors
against pursuit, and contact theEnterprise . Then the captain could send for the authorities, who would
be more than a little interested in their report of a Ferengi in Besidia.

As they skirted the side of the house, he could hear the isakki bearing down on them. And the strident
shouts of the Imprimans in their wake.

Come on,he told himself.All we need is a door . As he recalled, this structure had only one entrance,
and that was in the front. Snow crunching beneath their boots, they skidded around another corner.

The isakki growled, closing the gap with dizzying quickness. Rikers blood pounded in his ears.

Yet another corner. Surely after this one . . .

And there it wasthe front door. An oversize specimen carved out of dark wood and inlaid with precious
metals. It was set into an overhanging stone archway.

Now, with any luck, it would be unlocked.

It was.

Riker ushered Lyneea inside. Then, together, they shoved the door closed behind them. Finding a dead
bolt, he slammed it home.

A moment later they heard the skittering of claws on the outside of the door, and the shrieks of the
frustrated animals, and the shouts of the two retainers.

Riker took a deep breath, let it out. But before hed finished, Lyneea was pulling him away.

Come on, she told him. If theyve got blasters, that door is history.

She was right. There was no time to waste. They had to get to Larrak before he could hear the commotion
and prepare himself.

Behind them was a corridor that seemed to lead into the center of the house; Riker didnt remember for
certain. They followed it.

The inside of the place was still a lot like the outside. The walls were made of large gray stones; the
ceiling was a tight latticework of assorted woods polished to a high gloss.

The corridor ended in a hub from which six other spokes extended. Five led to closed doors. The sixth
showed them the entrance to the library.

Riker could see Larrak standing in the opening, his back to them, as yet unaware that there was anything
wrong.

Lyneea pulled her projectile weapon out of her tunic. Somewhere along the line, she had stuffed
Fortunes Light into the pouch at her belt; it dangled there heavily.

They exchanged glances. You take Larrak, she whispered. Ill handle the Ferengi.

He nodded.

Then they were off, pounding down the hallway as fast as they could. When theyd gotten about halfway,
Larrak turned and saw them coming.

A brief cry escaping his lips, he ducked and rolled out of sight. A moment later Riker burst into the
room, Lyneea half a step behind him.

Too late he saw that Larrak and the Ferengi werent the only ones waiting for them.

Lyneea was blasted before she could get off a shot, but she wasnt hit hard enough to lose
consciousness. As Riker helped her to her feet, he saw those responsible for the blasta quartet of
armed retainers. Their host peeked out from behind the quartet. He smiled.

Welcome to the estate of Madraga Terrin, he said. I dont believe weve been properly introduced.

Chapter Fourteen

THE FIRST OFFICIALof Madraga Terrin scrutinized the seal. It glittered with red, green, and blue sparks
as the gems embedded in it took turns catching the light. Larrak looked appreciative, as did the
retainers who stood by the walls and the Ferengi who leaned against a massive bookcase across the room.

I am forever in your debt, said Larrak, turning his gaze first on Riker and then on Lyneea. Who would
have thought that my merger was in jeopardy? Imagine if you had been a trifle less clever and the seal
had remained hidden for a while. He shook his head. All my maneuvering, all my planning . . .
worthless. Gently, almost reverently, he placed Fortunes Light on a small wooden table near the
window. Right next to Tellers homing device. I dont know what I would have done.

Apparently, Riker mused, Larrak still didnt recognize him, although theyd sat in this very room
together once before. Was it the beard? Or was it just that Teller had been the memorable one?

You could show your gratitude, he suggested, in response to Larraks speech. He shifted his weight in
his chair, but it only made the ropes that held him cut more painfully, and his partially healed wound
was already a throbbing misery. The Ferengi seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, he noticed. But Larrak
was his main concern. You could let us go.

Larrak chuckled. I could, yes. But then you might be inclined to tell someone about my friend Ralk. He
indicated the Ferengi with an outstretched arm, and Ralk nodded his grotesque head. That would put an
end to my plans more surely than the lack of a seal. He shook his head. No, I think Ill keep you here
for a while. At least until Fortunes Light is returnedsurreptitiously, of course, so Criathis wont
suspect that I had anything to do with its disappearance. That way, there will be no questions, and
everything will proceed according to schedule.

And after the merger ceremony? asked Riker.

Save your breath, Lyneea advised him. After the ceremony, hell kill us. She glared at Larrak. He
would have killed us already if he wasnt so superstitious. Its supposed to be bad luck to bloody your
hands on the day of a business transaction, and our host believes in luck more than most people.

Larrak considered her waspishly. I see that Im no stranger to you. I wishyou were as familiar tome.
He approached Lyneea, his retainers straightening just a hair as their attentiveness increased. Not
that youre a complete mystery. He reached out to caress her cheek, then saw the fire in her eyes and
thought better of it. A retainer, no doubt. Id heard that Criathis had some females on its payroll,
and youre proof of it.

Lyneea said nothing, but her expression spoke volumes.

Larrak turned his attention to Riker. As we all know, humans are rare on Imprima. Given the fact that
you were searching for the sealas evidenced by your little excavation effortand in the company of a
Criathan retainer, Id say youre here in an official capacity. He shrugged. Probably on loan from the
Federation vessel thats been in orbit the last several daysyes?

Riker didnt give him the pleasure of an answer. He could feel Lyneea looking at him approvingly.

You need not respond, said Larrak. I have gotten this far without your help. I believe I can
reconstruct the rest as well. He looked to the Ferengi. Shall I give it a try, Ralk?

The Ferengi laughed. It was more like a series of barks.

Larrak let the echoes die before he continued. The Federation trade liaison strikes a deal with one of
the madraggi opposed to the merger. Rhurig, maybe, or Lycinthis. The liaison steals the seal, or
arranges to have it stolen, and plants it on Terrins grounds. His price? Who knows? Probably enough to
buy himself a nice retirement somewherebut well worth it to the madraga who hired him.

He nodded, smiling to himself, as if his understanding was deepening even as he spoke.

You two are assigned to catch the Federations liaison and to recover Fortunes Light. At some point
you find a homing device and wonder if you can use it to find the seal. It leads you here, to the
grounds of Madraga Terrin. Something of a surprise, I expect. And while youre digging for your buried
treasure, you find something else you dont expecta Ferengi in the estate house. He paused. Close
enough?

He didnt get an answer, but by this time he probably didnt expect one.

Larrak made a clucking sound with his tongue. Really. Did you think no one would notice your
footprints? At least the liaison had the sense to do his dirty work during a snowstorm. He grunted.
Not that it did him much good. He, too, you see, was fascinated by Ralk. Otherwise he might not have
come closer to the houseand we might not have noticed him.

The Ferengi laughed again. The sound grated on Rikers ears, but Larrak appeared to appreciate it. Birds
of a feather, the Starfleet officer mused.

Larrak snapped his fingers, and one of his guards left the room. I must confess, he said, I was
concerned when I found a Federation liaison snooping around my grounds. I wondered how word of my
association with Ralk had leaked out. Now, of course, I see that I can set my mind at ease. He wasnt
here about Ralk. He was here to bury the seal, wasnt he?

Reminded of Fortunes Light, he retrieved it, along with the homing device that lay beside it. For a
moment he held them both in his hands, considering them, as if weighing one against the other. Then he
dropped the homing device and crushed it beneath his boot.

Fortunately, said Larrak, its carnival time, and theres a ban on modern communications systems. Or
you could have contacted Criathis once you realized where the seal was hidden.

Riker tried not to wince. He could have kept theEnterprise up to date on their progress, but in his
eagerness, hed chosen not to.

A moment later, Larraks retainer returned with a long, flowing garment in his hands. It was precisely
the color of human blood.

Ah, said Terrins first official. My ceremonial robe. As he accepted it, he gave the retainer the
seal. Once again, the man left the room.

Just for the record, said Riker, you did kill Teller Conlon, didnt you?

Larrak donned his robe with a flourish. For the record, yes. Smoothing the front of the brocaded
garment, he turned to Lyneea. How do I look, my dear? Fit to lead this worlds newest and most powerful
madraga into a golden age of prosperity?

Larrak smiled. Lyneea spat at him. For a second or two his good humor fell away and he looked as if he
might strike her. Then his smile returned.

Tut, tut, he said. I expected better breeding from a retainer of Madraga Criathis.

And with that he made his exit.

The captain stayed for the uneventful balance of the sixth inning and then excused himself. He had never
been a real devotee of the game, he explained. And his concern about Data had been laid to rest.

In the top half of the seventh, the Phoenix hitters went down in order. It might have been otherwise but
for a spectacular play in right field, in which Augustyn climbed the wall to rob the batter of a home
run.

As Data took his seat in the dugout, he recalled the computers verdict on Bobo Bogdonovich: three
official at-bats, one single, and one run batted in. Of course, he had already had two of those at-bats,
plus one that didnt count statisticallythe one in which he got hit with the pitch.

And history had already nailed down the outcome of his last time at batwhen he would end the game by
flying out to deep center field. But somewhere in between, he would have to get up again.

After all, he was the sixth hitter scheduled. That meant that even if all three Icebreaker batters
failed to reach first base in the seventh, he would still come up in the eighth. It would work out for
him to be the last out of the game only if the Icebreakers batted aroundand he came up twice in the
process.

However, the computer had been specific: onlythree official at-bats. And his fly out would be the third.
So whatever he did in the seventh or eighth inning would have to constitute anun official at-bat.

Data rifled through his memory for the circumstances that would make a time at bat unofficial: a walk, a
hit batsman, a run-scoring sacrifice via a fly out or a bunt . . .

The Icebreakers first batter, Maggin, hit a line drive single through the middle.

The following batter, Denyabe, got a base hit as wellthis one a grounder between the first and second
basemenand on the play, Maggin made it to third.

Things were looking up for the Fairbanks teama fact that was reflected in Terwilligers expression,
which was decidedly less hostile than usual as he watched from the shadows. With two men on and no one
out, it seemed they might win this game after all.

Of course, Data knew better. If history had its way, his teammates would find a way to leave those
runners on base.

The next two batters managed to do just that. Sakahara hit a pop-up to the first baseman, too shallow to
score Maggin from third. And Galanti could only produce another dribbler to the pitcher, who was able to
freeze Maggin with a glance before throwing to first for the out.

There were men on second and third now, but with two outs. Worse, Galanti had pulled a hamstring trying
to beat the throw to first. He had to be helped off the field by a couple of coaches, the trainer
following solemnly in his wake.

If Data had wondered when hed get a chance to bat again, he wondered no longer. Hed been watching
Galantis efforts from the on-deck circle. And as the first baseman was helped into the dugout, he
approached the batters box, spurred by the encouragement of his teammates. And, of course, the muffled
curses that came from the clubhouse stairs.

As Commander Riker would have put it, the deck was stacked against him. But if there was a way to thwart
history, to drive in Maggin and perhaps Denyabe as well, Data vowed to find it.

Unfortunately he never got the chance. The Sunset manager, no doubt wary of Bobo after his performance
in the first inning, opted to walk him intentionallyand thereby fill the bases for Cordoban, who had
had better days with the bat.

Nor did the manager end up regretting the move. For on a two-and-oh pitch, Cordoban hit a soft fly to
right field.

Three outs. End of threat.

In the dugout, at the top of the clubhouse stairs, Terwilliger didnt say a word. It was as if all the
fire had gone out of him. As if he could read his future and it was no different from his past.

After all, there were only two innings left. And scoring opportunities like that one didnt materialize
very often.

Noting that it was time for him to return to duty, Data saved the program and left the holodeck.

You wont get away with it, said Lyneea.

Of course we will, returned Ralk. He turned away from them as he crossed the room, casually
considering its decor.

Probably estimating the value of the furnishings, Riker mused. It had been some timea few hours at
leastsince Larrak had left them to proceed with his plans for the merger ceremony.

Lyneea pressed her case. Criathis will become suspicious when the seal turns up at the last minute.
Theyll put a stop to the merger.

The Ferengi shook his head, standing with his back to them as he regarded an Impriman globe. No. They
wont. He spun the globe, sending the continents flying by with dizzying speed, and glanced at the
captives over his shoulder. They will be happy to see it and relieved to avoid the disaster they
anticipated. He smiled, exposing his short, sharp teeth. It will not be a problem. He stopped the
globes rotation with a long, knobby finger. Besides, you need not concern yourselves with the outcome.
Either way, you will die.

Riker laughedthe loudest and most obnoxious laugh he could muster.

Obviously it was not what Ralk had expected. His brow furrowed, displaying his irritation.

Do not make that sound, said the Ferengi. It offends my sensibilities.

Nowthat was a switch.

I cant help it, said Riker. You think youve thought of everything, but youre in for a surprise.

That got Ralks interest, though he tried not to show it. Oh? What sort of surprise?

Riker looked at Lyneea. Should I tell him?

She looked back. Why not? she said.

He turned back to Ralk. Larraks a businessman, just as you are. And just like you, hed drop out of
your mutual admiration society if he thought it was curtailing his profits. Right?

The Ferengis eyes had become slits. Go on. 

Well, as soon as the merger goes through, Larraks going to be privy to Criathiss records. And as a
member of the team that put together the agreement . . .

The slits suddenly opened wide.

Thats right. I helped take Imprima away from you. And I can tell you that Madraga Criathis has
profited immensely from the dealmore than anyone on this world can possibly imagine. In fact, Id call
their profits obscenethough you might have another name for it. Riker smiled, giving himself some time
to formulate his next statement. After all, he was making it up as he went along.

How good is the deal you offered Larrak? he asked.

Verygood, said Ralk.

No doubt. But trust me on thisit pales by comparison to what he can make with the Federation, now that
Criathis is becoming his plaything. Add to that the difficulties and the dangers involved in upsetting
the status quo, the concessions and compromises Larrak will have to make to reinstate trade with the
Ferengi, and thenyou tellme: which way do you think Larrak is going to go?

There. That sounded pretty plausible, if he said so himselfeven though he was lying through his teeth.
Criathis wasnt benefiting from the trade agreementthat much.

More to the point, Ralk seemed to have swallowed it. He took a couple of steps toward Riker and
backhanded him across the mouth. For a moment the human forgot about his wound.

The three retainers in the room were starting to look fidgety. It was understandable. A few moments ago
it had clearly been their duty to protect Ralk. Now, with a possible conflict brewing between the
Ferengi and their employer, they werent so sure.

Of course that was just the icing on the cake. Rikers real goal was to raise Ralks temperature a bit.
And then a bit more.

So instead of cursing, he just grinned. Someone once told me you Ferengi are stronger than you look. I
guess he was just kidding.

His face twisting with hatred, Ralk belted him again. This time Riker tasted blood.

Love taps, he got out. But then, you dont really want to hurt me, do you?

Shut up, said the Ferengi. Just shut up!

After all, Im one of the humans who skunked you out of Imprima in the first place. Im

As Ralk pulled back for a third blow, Riker rocked forward and stood up, chair and all. The idea was to
take the impact on his chest, where he was still wearing his communicator under his Impriman tunicno
one having thought to search him that thoroughly.

But the Ferengis fist never landed. One of the retainers intervened, catching Ralks wrist in mid-
swing.

Thats enough, said the man, allowing the Ferengi to twist free. With his other hand, he shoved Riker
backwards and, with a small adjustment on the humans part, hit Will just where he wanted to be hit. The
chair landed on the floor, jarring his spine all the way up to his neck and sending shoots of agony
through his shoulder. But he heard the muffled beep that told him the communicator had been activated.

He looked around quickly. Apparently no one else had heard itnot even Lyneea. There had been too much
going on.

All right, said the retainer whod come between Riker and Ralk. Ill have no more of that. The first
official said we were to kill thema remark addressed to the Ferengibut that doesnt mean we have to
torture them, too. He turned to Riker. As for you, keep your mouth shut. We werent told we couldnt
hurry things alongif you know what I mean.

Riker nodded. Sorry. Its just that being tied up and held at gunpoint makes me a little edgy. Not to
mention being threatened with death.

The retainer muttered something and took his place by the wall again. Ralk cursed and went to stand by
the window.

How long would it take before Captain Picard was alerted to the situation? And then how much longer
before help might arrive?

I mean, he went on, I dont mind sharing a room with a Ferengi, despite what happened just now, but
three retainers armed with blastersall to watch me and my friend Lyneea? Thats enough to make anyone
nervous.

You were told to shut up, Ralk reminded him. You know, you are just like your friend, the trade
liaison. He would not keep quiet either.

Who was it that actually killed him? asked Riker, taking advantage of the opening. You, Ralk? Or
Larrak?

Larrak, said the Ferengi. Of course. It is a hosts responsibility to dispatch spies. His lip
curled. Though in your case I may insist on doing it myself.

The retainers looked at him. They seemed to have other ideas.

But that wasnt his chief concern now. He was trying to buy time and, whether he lived or not, to log a
record of Larraks crimes with theEnterprise s computer.

What gets me, Riker went on, is Larraks audacity. To even consider hoodwinking Criathis like that,
making them believe the merger was honorable, when all the time he intended to overturn the agreement
with the Federation and restore trade with the Ferengi.

Business is business, said Ralk. And despite what you say, Larrak will see thatwe offer the greater
profit.

How far could he push it? Hed soon find out.

Exactly how did Larrak spirit you in here, anyway? Did he pay someone to lower the transport barrier?
Or have you been hiding here since before the carnival began?

The Ferengi started to answer and then stopped himself. He eyed Riker suspiciously. Something is going
on, he decided. His mouth twisted as apprehension dawned. Hes got a communicator! Hes talking to his
ship!

It didnt take Rikers guards long to reach him. Before they did, he blurted out the name of the madraga
holding them and their location in the house.

Not that OBrien would need itby now, hed certainly have logged their coordinates. But it might help
Worf in planning his arrival.

A retainerthe one whod stopped Ralk a few moments earliergrabbed Riker by the front of his tunic.
Damn you, he said, what was the point? Youre only going to die that much quicker.

And stepping back, he leveled his blaster at the humans face.

Where the hell was Worf? Where was the familiar shimmer of coalescing molecules?

Suddenly, a blue-white phaser beam came out of nowhere. It slammed into the retainer just before hed
have pressed his trigger, sending him flying across the room.

Riker wrestled around in his chairjust far enough to see Worf and Data standing in the doorway, dressed
in Impriman tunics. The two remaining guards noticed them at the same time.

Blaster rays and phaser beams crisscrossed in midair. Another retainer was propelled into the wall
behind him.

The last one must have known he didnt have a chance. So rather than return the newcomers fire, he
opted to take out the captives.

As he took aim, Riker saw that he meant to kill Lyneea first. Frantically, he rocked forward and tipped
his chair; when it fell, it took his partners with it.

The two of them went over in an ungainly tangle of legs, living and otherwise. Before they hit the
floor, Riker saw a shaft of blasterlight sizzle past his good shoulder.

Then someoneeither Worf or Datanailed the retainer with a phaser bolt. The man was knocked off his
feet, landing heavily on one of his unconscious comrades.

Ferengi, called Riker, even before hed gotten his bearings. Maybe armed.

A fraction of a second later, he heard a frenetic shuffle, as of escaping footstepsfollowed by a scream
and a triumphant Klingon snarl.

Not armed, announced Worf. But definitely Ferengi.

Let me go, complained Ralk.

Thencooperate, advised Worf. And so saying, he thrust the Ferengi into a vacant chairat least that
was how it sounded.

Of course Riker could see neither the Ferengi nor his fellow officers. Lying on his back, still bound to
his chair, all he could see was Lyneea, who had fallen on her side with her face mere inches from his.

Without meaning to, he looked into her eyes, something hed never had the opportunity to do before, at
least not so close up.

Thanks, she told him, aware of the awkwardness of the moment. But a lot less ruffled by it than he
would have expected.

Dont mention it, he said.

Abruptly Datas face loomed above them. I trust, he said, that you are not hurt.

The first officer shook his head. No, Data. But Id appreciate it if you could untie us. I can remember
being in more comfortable positions.

As you wish, said the android. And replacing his phaser on his Impriman belt, he knelt to free Lyneea.

A coincidence that he was taking care of the female first? Or was Data developing a code of chivalry?
Riker pondered the question as his partners bonds were loosened.

Lyneea glanced at the androids phaser. I suppose, she said, there is a loophole in the high-tech ban
regarding your weapons as well?

Data looked puzzled. But Worf knew what she was talking about.

Perhaps we stretched the rule, he offered. But if we had not, you would be in no position to raise
the question.

She frowned at the Klingons answer, but seemed to accept it. Riker marveled at the change in her; a
couple of days ago, she would have made a point of confiscating the phasers. Would wonders never cease?

After loosening the last of Lyneeas bonds, the android moved to free the first officer. Hurry, urged
Riker. Weve got to get out of here in time to stop the merger ceremony.

Normally they could have made it to the ceremony site in no timeby beaming over. But direct beaming
required them to be transported up to the ship first and then sent on to their ultimate destination. And
with the transport barrier preventing anyone from leaving Besidia, that was currently impossible.
Besides, Riker still had to come up with a plan to stop the merger, though the seeds of one were already
germinating in his head.

I am doing my best, said Data. If I work any faster, I fear I may injure you in the process.

Its all right, said the human. After what Ive been through, I think I can stand a few friction
burns.

Obediently the android worked faster. But such was his skill that, despite Datas apprehension, Riker
felt no discomfort except for the throbbing of his wound.

What are you going to do with me? asked Ralk.

Nothing like what we should do, said Lyneea.

Worf looked to Riker. Commander?

We cant just tie him up, he said, thinking out loud. One of these retainers is bound to wake up soon
and free him. And we still need him as proof of what Larrak was up to. He smiled at the Ferengi, noting
how much Ralk looked like a fish on a hook. I guess well just have to take him with us.

Chapter Fifteen

THE AMPHITHEATERwas a plain brick building with a green-stained copper roof. It wasnt nearly as old as
the Maze of Zondrolla or as elaborate as the estate house of Terrin. But its round shape, high walls,
and considerable size made it imposing in its own way.

The single entrance to the place was guarded by retainers. Fortunately, Riker noted, they were in the
employ of Madraga Criathis.

Theres no time to explain, Lyneea told them. Weve got to get in.Now.

The retainer in charge indicated the unconscious figure slung over Datas shoulder. But . . . thats
aFerengi.

I know what he is. And you know that my assignment is top priority. Now, are you going to let us
through?

The retainer cursed. But in the end, he had to trust Lyneeas judgment.

They followed a passageway that led underneath the first level of seatsall five of them, including the
phaser-stunned Ralk, who had made the mistake of testing Worfs vigilance. The Ferengi was still
deadweight when they arrived at an opening that led into the seating area.

Every madraga seemed to be represented in the crowd. Riker saw the yellow robes of Alionis, the black of
Rhurig, the rich green of Ekariah. The blue, almost violet hue of Criathis. And of course, the red of
Terrin.

As they emerged from the opening, heads turnedto see who had come so unpardonably late. There were
retainers situated strategically at intervals, and not all of them belonged to Lyneeas madraga. Their
heads turned as well.

In the center of the arena, on a massive white-silk-draped platform perhaps ten meters high, the
officials of the two merging madraggi had begun their ceremony. They were ensconced at a semicircular
table, at either end of which was an ornate brass stand supporting a purple velvet pillow. And resting
on each pillow was an object difficult to see from this distance, except for a point of splendor where
it caught the artificial radiance emanating from fixtures in the ceiling.

The seals of the two respective madraggi, one of themthe one near the twilight-blue robesthe newly
restored Fortunes Light.

Rikers group headed down an aisle toward the first row of seats. There were stirrings among the
onlookersmurmurs of curiosity and concern and even amusement. More important, the retainers in the
audience had apparently decided the newcomers were up to no good; they were starting to converge on
them.

Luckily none of the retainers was directly in their path.Un luckily, those closest to them wore a
variation of the patch theyd found in the maze.

Move, urged Lyneea.

They moved, down the aisle and over the rail at the foot of it. Fortunately, Riker was able to vault
with one hand. When Datas turn came, he dropped the Ferengi into Worfs waiting arms.

By then the officials at the table had spotted them and halted their ritual procedures. Also, a number
of retainers had dropped into the central area on the opposite side of the amphitheater.

There were three familiar faces up on the platform. One was Larraks. Another belonged to Daran, first
official of Criathis. The third was that of Norayan, Darans daughter and second official.

Larrak stood up. Neither his face nor his voice revealed the emotions that must have been churning
inside him.

What is the meaning of this? he demanded, loud enough to cut through the growing clamor in the seats.

Riker turned to Lyneea as they approached. This time, he told her,Ill do the talking.

She didnt object.

Stop, called a voice from behind. Riker glanced over his shoulder and saw the retainers dropping over
the rail.

Worf started to draw his weapon, but Lyneea grabbed him by the wrist. Dont, she advised him. Were
here. They cant stop us now.

The first official of Criathis was on his feet now next to Larrak. His lack of comprehension was evident
in his faceand it was hard to surprise someone of his station. Probably the last thing hed expected to
see today was a group from theEnterprise interrupting the merger ceremony, aided and abetted by one of
his own retainers and carrying an unconscious Ferengi.

Yes, said Daran. Whatis going on here?

At about the same time, Riker and the others were surrounded. The retainers had their projectile weapons
in their hands, but they wouldnt shoot unless someone gave the order. And even then, they might not
obey the command of anyone other than their own employer.

Riker had a moment of indecision. After all, Criathiss call for help from the Federation was to have
been a secretlike the loss of the seal.

But he couldnt expose the criminals at this gathering without revealing his mission. Lyneea must have
figured that out, too, though, and shed made no move to stop him. He took that as silent approval.

Here goes nothing.

You know me, he told Daran. His voice rang out, echoing. My name is Will Riker. Im the first officer
of the Federation starshipEnterprise.

That sent a ripple of reaction through the crowd. Riker wet his lips, aware of Norayans scrutiny, and
Larraks as well. He plunged on.

Some days ago, First Official, you asked for my assistance. You said that someone had stolen your
madragas seal and you needed it back in time for this ceremony.

Norayans father looked on, tight-lipped. Inside, he must have been fuming. But then, he didnt know the
whole storynot yet.

I found the seal, and I found out who arranged to have it stolen. Riker turned, aware of the
opportunity for drama in the moment, and found the clot of black robes in the stands. He pointed to
them. Madraga Rhurig was behind the theft of Fortunes Light. They paid to have it disappearso this
ceremony might never take place.

The black robes became a sea of confusion. Some of them stood, crying out bitter denials. And a couple
separated themselves from the rest, climbing over the rail to land on the arena floor.

Despite the robes, Riker recognized one of them as Kobar. But he did his best to ignore the fact,
turning back to the semicircular table and those who sat around it.

This is a serious accusation, said the first official of Criathis.

Indeed, remarked Larrak. He was eyeing Riker, still unsure of the Starfleet officers
intentionsthough he probably remembered who he was now. Especially in view of the fact that Fortunes
Light sits right there. He indicated the seal of Madraga Criathis on its pillow of purple velvet. Are
you suggesting that the seal before us is a fake?

A bold move on Larraks part, to be sure. He was forcing the issue of how Fortunes Light had been
recoveredtrying to get Riker to lay his cards on the table, if he had any.

But the human was too good a poker player to be manipulated.

No. It is genuine. And it is herebut only because it was returned. The fact remains that it was
stolen.

He looked to the first official of Criathis. Without his confirmation at this point, Riker could go no
further. He hoped that the Impriman had enough faith in him to take some risks.

That is true, Daran said finally, though with obvious reluctance. Fortunes Light was taken from us.
We recovered it only hours before the ceremonyand under mysterious circumstances.

By that time Kobar and his black-robed companion had reached them, and were shouldering their way
through the assembled retainers. Curses flew, and most of them were directed at Riker.

Son of a muzza, spat Kobar, his eyes wide with anger. I should have killed you when I had the
chance.

No doubt, said Riker. But that doesnt change anything. Your madraga still hired Teller Conlon to
steal Fortunes Light.

Youre mad! snarled the other manand now the human recognized him. It was Kelnae, the first official
of Madraga Rhurig, and Kobars father. He was as loud and arrogant as Riker remembered him. He appealed
to Daran. This isyour ceremony, First Official. Either silence this offworlder or be held accountable.

The Criathan was under terrible pressure. To his credit, he didnt let it show. Nor did he let Rhurigs
ultimatum fluster him.

Daran addressed Kobars father. Youre right, Kelnae. Thisis my ceremony, and I will see it conducted
with decorum. He turned to Riker. I take it you have proof?

The human nodded. I do. He glanced in the direction of Kobar and his father. In the form of a
confessionfrom the man who stole the seal for them.

That put Kelnae on the defensive. More lies!

No, said Riker. Do you want to hear it? He pressed the communicator that he still wore beneath his
tunic. A moment later he heard Picards voice on the other end.

Yes, Number One?

What do you think youre doing? demanded Kelnae. That is forbidden technology!

Riker shook his head. Not true. Nowhere in the high-tech ban is there a mention of Federation
communicators.

A technicality, said Kelnae.

Perhaps, said Daran. But thats something we can rule on later. For now, I would like to allow the
offworlder to proceed.

On whose responsibility? asked the leader of the black robes.

Mine, answered Daran.

Commander? Are you there?

Aye, sir. I need you to play back the audio portion of Teller Conlons confession.

That will take a moment. I trust your listeners will not mind waiting?

Riker looked at Kelnae and then at Daran. Briefly, Captain.

I see. In that case, well do everything we can to . . . ah, here it is, Number One.

The next voice they heard was that of Rikers friend. It was a voice tinged with regret.

My name is Teller Conlon. I am the Federation trade liaison to Imprima. And I have conspired with the
officials of Madraga Rhurig to steal Fortunes Light in an effort to prevent the merger between Madraga
Criathis and Madraga Terrin . . .

Riker found it hard to listeneven though the words were his, put together on their way here, and
reshaped by theEnterprise s computer to simulate the voice and speech patterns of his friend. The
forgery was too good; it actually hurt to hear Teller admit his guilt.

More important, those around him were listeningincluding Daran and Norayan, Kelnae and Kobar. Only
Larrak had reason to doubt. He knew it was highly unlikely that Teller would have logged such a
confession and then buried the seal anyway.

. . . to be rewarded for my efforts with Rhurig wealth and passage offplanet . . .

Riker had taken chances with some of the details. But hed had to. If hed made the confession too
sketchy, it wouldnt have convinced anyone.

Still . . . if hed gotten even one of the details wrong, Kelnae would see through the ruse. And Rikers
bluff would be called.

This cant be! protested Kobar. Its a fabrication!

No, said Riker, but he spoke to Daran, not Kobar. Its no fabrication. And when the carnival is over
and you can use advanced communications again, well be glad to show you the confession in all its
holographic glory.

Tellers voice continued.

. . . that the seal be buried. But that was not enough. To make doubly sure it could not be used to
facilitate the merger, it was to be buried on the grounds of Madraga Terrinthe last place Criathis
would expect to find it, and the place where its discovery would do the most . . .

Kobar made a short chopping motion with his handa gesture of dismissal. His emerald green eyes
narrowed. Come, Father. Theres no need to stay and be insultedespecially by an offworlder and by a
madraga that cant keep track of its valuables.

He started away. But Kelnae stayed.

. . . all of it, said Tellers voice. I am not proud of it. But in some small way perhaps I have
atoned for my actions.

Father? Whats wrong?

Kelnaes eyes had lost their fire. He somehow seemed to have shrunk a couple of inches in height.

Father . . . ?

The offworlder is right, said Kelnae. He darted a hate-filled glance at Riker. I dont know how he
got Conlon to confess. But he is right.

Kobar obviously hadnt been in on the crime. He was crestfallen.

I cant believe

Of course you cant, said Kelnae. I never told you, Kobar. I knew you wouldnt countenance an
alliance with the trade liaisona man you hatedno matter how necessary it might have been.

Then you admit to stealing the seal? asked Riker.

Kelnae sneered. Yesfreely. He turned to those on the silk-draped platform, and Daran in particular.
And now what? Would you punish mefor the theft of something that has already been returned to you? He
chuckled. Who among us would not have done the same thing, given half a chance?

A good question, Riker observed. And one that only one man present dared answer.

The issue, said Norayans father, is not what others would have done. The issue is whatyou did. He
regarded Kelnae from the considerable height of the platform. And once that becomes common knowledge,
you may find Rhurigs fortunes taking a turn for the worse.

And what about Conlon? asked Kelnae. What about the Federation? Willthey be held accountableor only
Rhurig?

Daran wouldnt look at Riker or at his fellow officers. That remains to be seen, he said.

Of course, said the first official of Rhurig. By now, Conlon is long gone, no doubt. Secreted away,
where Impriman justice cant touch him.

It was truer than the man might have imagined. But Riker didnt remark on the irony. It wasnt time yet
to letthat cat out of the bag.

Kelnae spat and started back toward the audience. His son made no move to go with him.

Kelnae stopped, waited. Kobar? he prompted.

The younger man didnt react.

Kelnae stood there for a moment. Then he shrugged and started walking again.

Kobar turned to Norayan. His face was hard with humiliation. Had I known, he told her, I would have
prevented it. I swear it.

She nodded.

Riker noticed that Larrak was studying him. With apprehension? Or was that admiration? Either way, he
took it as a compliment.

And Larrak hadnt even seen his next move.

First Official, said Riker, addressing Daran, I have a confession to make.

The Imprimans brows knit. He didnt look as if he would relish any additional surprises.

A confession? he echoed.

Yes. Riker indicated Kobar with a gesture. This man was right. The recording we just heard was a
fabrication.

Norayan stifled her reaction. Back in the stands, the area populated with black robes erupted in
protest. But Kobar himself was silent, trying to preserve what was left of his dignity.

I dont understand, said Daran.

If you had checked the holograph as I suggested, you would have found that it was a fake. He held out
his hands. I apologize for the deception. But it seemed the only way to draw out First Official
Kelnae.

Daran considered him. He grunted. I cant say I approve of your methods, he noted. But I must admit
they are effective.

Norayan spoke for the first time. What about the Ferengi? she asked. What is his role in this?

Riker admired her timing. Glad you asked. You see, Rhurig is not the only madraga that has committed
crimes against Criathis and the laws of Imprima.

Daran leaned forward.Now what?

To Rikers surprise, Larrak remained quietrelaxed, evenas if relieved that the confrontation had
finally begun.

Teller Conlon is not in hiding, said Riker. Hes deadmurdered by the man who sits beside you.

Again the crowd reacted. The second and third officials of Madraga Terrin added their indignant voices
to the tumult. As the protests died down, Larrak shook his head. That is ludicrous.

You know better, answered the human. He turned back to Daran. Larrak deceived you, First Official.
You thought his goals were in line with yours, but that wasnt the case at all. After this merger went
through, he planned to oust the Federation, against your wishes, and use his newfound power to bring
back the Ferengi.

Absurd, said Larrak.

Preposterous, commented his third officialwho might or might not have been in on the deal.

Riker pointed to Ralk, who lay inert on the floor at Worfs feet. This one was Larraks contact with
the Ferengi.

He went on to speak of how Teller had stumbled on Ralks presence, and the price he had paid for it. He
told of how he and Lyneea had tracked the seal down to its hiding place on Terrins estate, how they
were captured, and how it was Larrak who returned the seal.

We escaped, he finished, obviously. But not before recording the Ferengis admission of what he and
Larrak had done, and still planned to do.

Larrak chuckled. Youre lying. You have no such recording, because there were no admissions to make.
And as far as the Ferengi goeshe dismissed the prone figure with a gestureI have never seen him
before in my life.

The recording exists, insisted Riker. If you like, I can play it for you.

And it will be a fabrication, said Larrak, exactly like the one we heard a moment ago.

The human shook his head. Not this time, First Official. How could we have copied Ralks voice when we
dont have it on file? No, this time its for real.

Maybe it was the logic of Rikers argument that convinced Larrak of the truth. Maybe it was the fact
that the human had bluffed already and wasnt likely to try it again. Maybe it was his certainty that
eventually there would be corroboration for Rikers claims. Or maybe it was just something in his voice.

In any case, the accusation had its effect. And not an entirely expected one.

For no sooner had the amphitheater stopped ringing with Rikers voice than Larrak had a blaster in his
hand.

Daran saw it and tried to disarm him, but he wasnt quick enough. Larrak smashed him across the face
with his weapon, sent him tumbling off the dangerously high platform.

Norayan had started to scream when he grabbed her and pulled her to him, using her as a shield.

Nor did anyoneneither the assembled retainers nor theEnterprise officershave a chance to stop him. It
all happened too fast. And who would have dreamed that a first official would bring a banned weapon to a
merger ceremony?

So that was why he had kept silent all this time. He had an ace in the hole. The thought came to Riker
instantaneously.

Then things got crazy.

One of the retainers must have decided he could stand up to a blaster with a projectile gun. It was a
bad idea. Larrak demonstrated immediately that his weapon was set on kill. And then, just for good
measure, he fired indiscriminately into the small crowd at the base of the platform.

The retainers scattered, including those of Madraga Terrin. Larraks second and third officials took the
opportunity to leap from their perch; likewise, the Criathan whod been sitting on Norayans right.

With Norayan in danger, Riker couldnt run for the seats, so he exercised his only other option. He dove
for the base of the wide-lipped platform, where the silk drapes didnt quite reach, and where Larrak
would be hard-pressed to get off a good shot at him.

He wasnt the only one whod had that idea. When he looked around a moment later, he saw Lyneea beside
him. Past her, he saw Worf and Data, and past them, Kobar.

His fellow officers had drawn their phasers. Lyneea had her projectile weapon in handfor all the good
it would do. And Riker had the blaster hed borrowed back at Terrins estate.

Come out, cried Larrak. All of youwhere I can see you. Or Ill blast this woman right where she
stands.

Riker looked at Lyneea. She motioned for him to comply, then signed that shed circle around the back of
the platform, using the drapes for cover.

Where had he heardthat plan before?

Now,cried Larrak, his voice an octave higher than it should have been. I mean what I say.

All right, answered Riker. Were coming.

He motioned to Worf and Data. They nodded.

Kobar, however, had something else in mind. Like Lyneea, he started to make his way around the
platformbut at the other end.

Riker tried to get his attention, to keep him from interfering with Lyneeas maneuver. But Kobar either
didnt see him or chose to ignore him.

Reluctantly, Riker came out of hiding and with him, Data and Worf. They were careful not to step on the
Ferengi, who was just starting to come to.

Larrak watched with satisfaction. Drop your weapons, he told them. His blaster muzzle was pressed
against Norayans temple.

Dont do it, she said. Not for me, Will.

But he had no choice. He couldnt let Norayan die.

You heard him, Riker instructed his companions. Drop them.

The phasers made a couple of dull thumps as they hit the floor. Rikers blaster made a slightly heavier
sound.

Suddenly Larraks face twisted.No, he said. Theres another onethe female. Where is she? He looked
around him, but Lyneea was nowhere to be seen.

Riker thought about trying to pick up one of their weapons. Datas phaser was lying only a few inches
from his foot, having fallen closer to him than his borrowed blaster.

But Larrak didnt give him a chance. He darted a look at Riker. I want her in front of me, he
bellowed.Tell her that!

There was a moment when anything could have happened. Then Lyneea showed herself, and Riker saw that she
hadnt gotten very far. She was only at the end of the platform; she hadnt slipped around to the back
yet, where she might have obtained a clear shot.

Drop the weapon, said Larrak, pitiful as it is.

She did as she was instructed. Not happily, but she did it.

Move over with the others, he said.

Again, she complied.

Nice try, breathed Riker.

Not nice enough, she told him.

Of course Lyneea didnt know about Kobar. As far as she was concerned, he had fled in the wake of the
retainers.

Larrak must have made the same assumption, more or less, because he didnt look nervous anymore.

Come on,Riker rooted silently.Come on, Kobar .

And now, said Terrins first official, I will need transportation off Imprima.

Where will you go? asked Riker.

Larrak shrugged. The Ferengi will take care of me. I can still be of use to them, as an adviser. After
all, I know of other madraggi that might consider dealing with them.

Norayan winced at the pressure of the blaster muzzle against her temple. It made Riker want to do
something stupid.

But he kept his temper. He had to keep Larrak occupied, he reminded himself. Had to give Kobar a decent
chance to bring him down.

Itll never happen, he said. After this, no madraga willtouch a Ferengi deal.

Larrak looked at him. Nonsense. You are too naive. Now . . . transportation, if you please. Use your
communicator. See to it.

The human frowned, in the interests of not looking too eager. Riker to Captain Picard.

The answer was instantaneous. Weve been listening in, Number One. It sounds as if youve got a
problem.

Its Terrins first official, sir. Hes got a blaster and a hostage. And he means to kill her if he
cant get offplanet transportation.

There was silence for a moment, as the captain seemed to mull it over. It doesnt appear we have much
of a choice, does it?

No, sir. Well need to start the beam-up calibrations immediately. You know how long that can take, and
I dont think our friend is in the mood to wait.

Picards answer was crisp, without a trace of hesitation, even though he knew that there were no beam-
up calibrations to be made. Hed worked with Riker long enough to know how his mind workedand to
understand that he needed time.

Will do, Number One. Ill see to it personally.

Larrak heard all this, of course, and he didnt object. No surprise therehe wasnt a technician, he was
a bureaucrat. What did he know about transporter technology?

Itll take a few minutes, Riker told him.

So I understand, said Larrak. Just be warned that my patience isnt

That was when Kobar made his movevaulting up onto the platform, grabbing Larrak and pulling him away
from Norayan. Suddenly the blaster in Larraks hand went offthough fortunately, not in the direction of
Norayans head, thanks to Kobars grip on Larraks wrist. It continued to spew destructive force as
Norayan dropped out of sight, its beam ripping up the wood of the platform and digging a furrow in the
floor in front of it.

Larrak and Kobar struggled for control of the weapon, the Terrin official proving that he was stronger
than his appearance suggested. They lurched together, falling across the table, and suddenly the blaster
was cutting a swath in Rikers direction.

By that time the first officer had already knelt and retrieved Datas phaser. As the beam came his way,
plowing a trench in the floor, he was able to fling himself out of its path. Somehow he avoided further
injuring his shoulder.

Rolling to his feet, he saw that Larrak and Kobar were still vying for control of the blaster. But
Larrak was slipping something out of his robe.

A knife.

Riker cried out, but his warning came too late. The knife slipped into Kobars side and he let go of
Larraks weapon. Slumping to the platform, he left Larrak standing all alone.

The Impriman was too easy a target to miss. Riker fired the phaser and knocked the blaster out of
Larraks hand. A split-second later Worf retrieved a phaser, fired it, and spun him around and off the
platform.

Data was the first one around the platform. He was already kneeling beside Larrak when the others
arrived.

His fall was not fatal, reported the android, obviously pleased. Though he may have broken some
bones.

Amazing, Riker mused. It didnt matter to Data that Larrak was ready to destroy him a few seconds ago.
The android couldnt bear a grudge if he wanted to.

Riker, on the other hand, was only human. When he looked at Larrak, all he could see was the man whod
killed his friend.

A flurry of retainers and attendants and kinsmen took the injured away. Daran was protesting; he was
hardly hurt at all, he claimed. And Kobar, though exceedingly pale even for an Impriman, was conscious
when they removed hima good sign. At the end, Norayan was clasping his hand, smiling, expressing her
confidence that he was too tough to die.

And if there was more affection there than gratitude, she would not have admitted it, even to herself.
She was still second official of Criathisand he was still the son of Kelnae.

Ralk, they found out later, had not been so lucky. After Riker had avoided Larraks errant blaster beam,
it had zigzagged in the Ferengis direction. At least, that was the way it looked.

More than likely, the human told himself, Ralk had never known what hit him.

Chapter Sixteen

PICARD TOOK A SIPof his Earl Grey. Then were off the hook, Number One?

Rikers voice came through loud and clear over the ships communications system. Aye, sir. The madraggi
have recognized the validity of my loophole, which means that our communicators as well as our phasers
are sanctioned under the high-tech ban. And Data, too.

Data?echoed the captain.

Yes. Once the Imprimans realized he was an artificial being, he came into question as well. Anyway,
thats all been resolved. Next year theyll be closing the loophole to keep out communicators and
phasers. But Data will be welcome anytime.

Picard considered that as he placed his cup and saucer on his ready room desk. You know, Commander, you
took quite afew liberties during your stay down there. Not only with the high-tech ban, but with First
Official Darans trust.

There was no other way, sir. And now that hes had some time to think about it, the first official is
coming to see that. Give him another few days and well be firmly back in his good graces.

The captain grunted. Optimism was a good trait for a first officer, and Riker had it in abundance. And
he suffered no injuries as a result of his fall?

Just some bruises, sir.

Good to hear. What about Larrak?

You mean his medical condition? Or whats in store for him?

Both, said Picard.

Well, hes going to be convalescing for a couple of weeks, until that leg can start to mend. Then hell
stand trial for Tellers murder, for killing the retainers in the amphitheater, and for violating the
trade agreement. All in all, Id say hes going to be put away for a long time.

Putaway, Number One?

The Impriman penal system is not as forward-looking as ours, sir. They still believe in long-term
incarceration.

That sounded a little barbaric, Picard thought. But then, it was their planet. They could do as they saw
fit.

Interestingly enough, Madraga Terrin will probably emerge from the trial unscathed. From the looks of
it, the alliance with the Ferengi was a one-man operation. The other officials had nothing to do with
it. A pause. That is, from thelooks of it.

Youre skeptical?

Theres no proof one way or the other, sir. And Ive got nothing left to bluff with.

That was for certain.

Kelnae?

Itll never be proved that he ordered my assassination, though its pretty plain that he was the one.
Hell have his share of problems, though. The other madraggi wont take kindly to the fact that he
arranged the theft of Fortunes Light. Therell be sanctionsthe kind that will give Rhurig a great deal
of trouble.

And Kobar? asked Picard.

Riker chuckled. A real surprise, Captain. He showed a lot of character in the amphitheatera lot of
pride. I think hes a better person than anyone has given him credit for being. Hes still trying to
cope with a reputation he no longer deserves.

You seem to be quite an admirer, considering he had a knife at your throat not so long ago.

But he didnt use it, sir, and that makes all the difference in the world. Did I mention that hes
severed all ties with his madraga?

No. Picard found himself impressed as well.

Kobar could have stayed with his father and continued to live the easy life. Even with all the problems
Rhurig is going to face, the madraga wont go downhill all at once. But Kobar doesnt want anything to
do with Kelnaes machinations anymore; the old man went too far this time.

The captain reflected on just how deceiving appearances could be. Good for him. But what will he do?
Cut off from his madraga, hell be penniless, wont he?

Penniless indeed. Thats why I made . . . a suggestion.

The words hung tantalizingly in the air. All right, Commander, Ill bite. What suggestion?

You see, sir, when I went to visit him in the hospitalto let him know that there were no hard feelings
and to compare knife woundsit occurred to me that the trade liaison post is unoccupied.

Picard started to lean forward. Youdidnt.

I did, sir. After all, hes demonstrated that his ethics are beyond reproacha quality the Federation
may find crucial if its going to continue relations with this planet. Youve got to admit our
credibility is somewhat threadbare at the moment. And besides, it may be intriguing to see how an
Impriman deals with Imprimans.

Picard smiled. He was glad that Riker wasnt there to see it. Commander, that is not your decision to
make.

Of course not, Captain. As I said, it was only a suggestion.

And what was his reaction to this suggestion?

He turned me down. He said hed sooner sell his soul than work for offworldersthough he didnt sound
entirely convincing. With a little work, I think, we could persuade him to take the job.

Picard mulled it over. Ill propose it to the appropriate authorities, he said finally. And then, who
knows? Stranger things have happened.

Thank you, sir.

No need, Number One. Incidentally, the carnival is scheduled to end in a few hoursand the
transportation ban along with it. I take it youll be returning at that time, along with your fellow
officers?

For a moment, silence. The others will beam up, Captain. But if its all right with you, Id like to
take some of that shore leave Ive been accumulating. The ship has to stay anyway, to tie up the loose
ends, and

And youd like to tie up some of your own?

Exactly.

Picard nodded, for the benefit of no one in particular. Take all the time you need, Will.

I appreciate that, sir.

Their communication over, the captain picked up his cup and saucer and returned them to the food
processing unit. He had a long report ahead of him, and his Earl Grey had no doubt by this time gotten
cold.

Will?

Riker turned at the sound of Norayans voice. He was in the anteroom to the Criathan inner chamber,
where the madragas officials held their councils. Norayan was standing in the outer doorwayas if
hesitant to come in.

Im glad you came, she told him.

He shrugged. You called, he said, as if that were explanation enough.

Lets go out on the balcony, she suggested, finally entering the room. Here in the chamber suite, it
was proper to wear the dark blue color of her madraga, just ashe had come inhis proper attirethe red
and black of a command officer in Starfleet.

As she went by, Riker offered her his arm. She took itgladly, it seemed to him.

They walked through a narrow archway into the inner chamber proper, which was even more ornate than the
anteroom and considerably larger. It was dominated by a great pink marble fireplace built into the wall
on their right.

Before the hearth stood the simple wooden Table of Officials, around which the madragas founders were
said to have seated themselves. It was unattended now, its chairs neatly organized around it, as if it
had not been used since the founders passing.

But he knew better. It had been used the day before and throughout much of the nightto debrief Lyneea,
to discuss the manner in which Criathis had been victimized and by whom, to decide what measures needed
to be taken to patch up the damage, and finally to chart a new course for the madraga, now that it would
not be merging with Terrin.

Apparently Rikers partner had been discreet in her report concerning Norayans relationship with
Teller. Otherwise, Norayan would have been stripped of her status as an official, and Riker would not
have been meeting with her here.

Just to one side of the table, Fortunes Light resided in its modest display case. Without direct light
to awaken its multifaceted glory, the seal looked almost ordinary.

Hardly worth ones life.

Norayan didnt stop to look at any of thisthough when Riker had first known her, she used to beg him
for descriptions of the inner chamber. Of course, in those days, he was an honored guest of the madraggi
and she was only a madraga-dzins daughter.

The exit onto the balcony was an archway as well. Norayan paused a moment to open the doors. Then they
emerged into the brittle radiance of late-afternoon Besidia.

For a change, it wasnt snowing, though the citys slender, lofty towers bore evidence of the mornings
flurries. Riker breathed deep of the cold air, enjoying it for the first time since hed beamed down.

All that separated them from the streets below was an elaborate wrought-iron railing that had blackened
with age. Norayan approached it and looked out over the carnival town.

Ive been a fool, she said simply.

He could have let her off the hook with just that simple admission. But it would have been dishonest.
They knew each other too well to ignore what had happened.

To put it mildly, he answered.

When she turned, she looked a little surprised. But only a little.

You lied to me, he continued. Worse, you used me.

She nodded. I had toor at least I thought so at the time. There didnt seem to be any other way . . .

To expose Kobar, be offered, without making public your relationship with Teller.

She smiled sadly. I was so sure it was Kobar who had killed him. He hated offworlders, and Teller in
particular. Certainly theyd had their share of run-ins, and not all on a political level, nor was it a
secret that Kobar had feelings for meI imagine Lyneea told you about that. Perhaps he sensed that I was
involved with Teller . . . I dont know. She shook her head. From the beginning, I suspected that
Rhurig was connected to the theft of the seal. When I found Tellers body in the maze, it all seemed to
come together. Kelnae had hired Teller, I decided, to do Rhurigs dirty work. Then, once Teller had
obtained Fortunes Light, Kobar saw an opportunitya chance to have his political and personal ambitions
furthered at the same time. All he had to do was stab poor Teller in the back.

Silence for a moment. A wind came up, chilled them, and was gone.

And the patch?

Just after I returned from the maze, shaken with grief, Kobar came calling on me. As before, he
professed his love for me, asked me to retire from my position with Criathis and marry him. It was too
much of a coincidence; I became certain that hed murdered Teller. When he moved to touch me, to embrace
me, I ripped the patch off his shoulder and threw him out.

More silence. This time there wasnt even a wind.

Norayan hung her head. Im so ashamed, Will. I thought I was doing the right thinggiving justice a
helping hand. Now I see how I stood in its wayand almost got you killed in the process.

A tear ran down her cheek. Atear from an official of Madraga Criathis!

Riker had stood about all he could stand. He took Norayan in his arms, sling and all.

Its all right, he said. It is. You said it yourselfyou did what you thought was right. Thats all
any of us can do.

She looked up at him. Thats the kind of thing Teller would have told me.

He smiled. Is it? He tried to remember. I guess maybe it is.

You know, she said, there is one thing I cant understand. In that moment when Teller had finished
burying the seal and was about to leavethe moment when he noticed the Ferengi in Larraks housewhy
didnt he justgo? Was it simple curiosity that made him inch closer to the window, and ultimately get
caught? Or was it something else?

Riker thought about it for the first time. A sense of duty, you mean? To the Federation?

I didnt know him when he served on those starships, Will. I dont know what he was like in those days.
But is it possible that, in the end, he put your Federation first? That he would have come out of
hiding, no matter what the penalty, to expose Larraks scheme?

Riker shook his head. I dont know, Norayan. But Id sure as hell like to think so.

With matters settled in Besidia and Commander Rikers mission accomplished, Data returned to Holodeck
One. It was time to finish the game.

He had left in the eighth inning, with Sunset runners on second and third and two outs. The android
recorded the last out himself, cutting off a sharply hit grounder between third and shortstop. His throw
to first beat the runner by two strides.

The Icebreakers half of the inning was nothing to boast of. Augustyn hit a line drive right at the
Phoenix shortstop. Jackson walked, but Cherry struck out swinging and Maggin hit a little nubber to
first.

In the top of the ninth, the Sunsets mounted another threat. Their first two batters reached base safely
before the Fairbanks pitching coach, managing in Terwilligers place, called for another pitcher.

The new man shut the door on the Phoenix team. There were two pop-ups and a meek ground ball, and
suddenly it was the Icebreakers last chance.

The Sunset pitcher had been effective until this point, but his manager wasnt taking any chances. As
his team took the field, he called for his ace reliever.

Tom Castle, said Jackson. If you thoughtReddingscurve was a killer, wait till you seehis . Best hook
in the league, if you ask me.

It was not good newsespecially to Data, who would come up fourth in this inning. He could picture
himself hitting the long fly ball that would give Phoenix the victory.

More than anything he wanted to avoid that. But it was looming more and more likely, the pieces all
falling into place. When it came to the curveball, he was still not the hitter he wanted to be, despite
Geordis advice and all his research. And he was facing the Sunset pitcher who could best exploit his
weakness.

So far the games events had followed history faithfully. Was it evenpossible for Data to prevail when
he came up to bat?

Denyabe led off the Icebreakers half of the ninth. Castles first pitch was a curveball out of the
strike zone. The second baseman swung anyway and missed.

Stee-rike one, called the umpire.

The second pitch to Denyabe was in the same place as the first. Again he went fishing for it. Again he
failed to make contact.

It wasnt until the third pitch that he finally got some wood on the ball. But even then, it was only a
foul tip that whizzed by the catcher.

As Data watched from the dugout, it seemed to him that none of these pitches were in the strike zone.
Though they initially appeared as if they would get a piece of the plate, they consistently wound up
wide to the right.

The android turned to Jackson, who was sitting beside him. Is this the way Castle usually pitches? He
has yet to throw an Uncle Charlie over the plate.

Jackson grunted. Its called painting the corners, Bobo.

But Data was forced to differ; after all, Jackson didnt have an androids visual acuity. Castle
wasntpainting the cornershe wasmissing them.

And Denyabe couldnt seem to discern that any better than Jackson could. As Castle released the ball
again, Denyabe swungnot as if to hit it somewhere, but merely to stay alive. He just got a piece of it.

The pitcher smiled as the catcher threw him a new ball. It appeared that he had Denyabe right where he
wanted him.

Data didnt want his friend to be handled so ignominiously. It was one thing to make an out and quite
another to be embarrassed in the process.

Nor could he help remembering Denyabes words. Like everything else hed ever heard, they were preserved
perfectly in his memory: Men cant depend on heaven, Bobo. Theyve got to depend on each other.

Suddenly the android knew what he had to do. He got up and walked over to the pitching
coachTerwilligers replacement. Coach, he said, we must call time out.

The man looked at him. What the hell for?

Because I have advice to give Denyabe.

The mans eyes narrowed. Care to tellme about it?

I would prefer to tell him myself.

The coach thought about it, snorted. Sure, he said finally. Why not? Cant hurt, the way were
going. He climbed to the top step of the dugout and called time. Then, turning back to Data, he said,
Hes all yours.

When Denyabe saw Bobo trotting out toward the plate, he smiled. You know, he said, its a good thing
Terwilligers given up already. Otherwise, hed have killed you for a stunt like this.

Please listen, said Data. You need not swing at the next curveball.

Ineed not? echoed Denyabe. Why do you say that?

Because Castle has not yet thrown one for a strike.

The second baseman allowed himself a glance at the pitcher. You sure about that? They looked pretty
good to me.

I am as sure as I can be, said the android.

Denyabe pretended to inspect his bat. Even if youre right, he said, thats only what hesbeen doing.
Whos to say what hesgoing to do?

He has been successful with the strategy thus far, insisted the android. Why diverge? At least, until
you give himreason to do so?

Denyabe regarded him, looking not so much at him as into him.

All right, he said finally. I wont swing at a curveball unless its right down Broadway. But youd
better be right.

Trust me, said Data. He fashioned a smile. Unless you would rather trust the goddess.

The second baseman chuckled. No, he said, never that. And as the android retreated to the dugout,
Denyabe approached the plate with renewed purpose.

Finished? asked the pitching coach, once Data had returned.

Finished.

Think itll help?

The android shook his head. I hope so.

A moment later Castle went into his windup. And a moment after that, the ball was on its way to the
plate.

The pitch looked good. It appeared that it would find a piece of the strike zone. Denyabe tensed, as if
every instinct was telling him to swing.

But he didnt.

Ball, called the umpire.

Data felt gratified. However, Denyabe still had two strikes on him.

The next pitch was a ball as well. Again, Denyabe found the wherewithal to keep from swinging at it.
Likewise, the pitch after that.

And finally, with the count full, Castle missed a fourth time. Denyabe tossed his bat aside and trotted
to first base.

Looks like you knew what you were talking about, observed the pitching coach.

Data nodded. It does look that way, does it not? And removing his bat from the rack, he advanced to
the top step of the dugout.

What the hell did he tell him? rasped Terwilliger. The android could hear his voice coming from the
stairwell.

Beats me, said the coach.

As Sakahara took his place at the plate, Data hoped he would benefit from Denyabes example. As a
veteran hitter, he would certainly have been watching the confrontation with great interest.

However, Castle crossed him up on the first pitch. Instead of serving up another curveball, he tried to
sneak by a fastball.

Surprised, and therefore swinging a bit too late, Sakahara popped the ball up. The android watched as
the ball landed in the shortstops mitt.

And realized abruptly that ithad to have been that way. After all, Denyabe had gotten on base. That
meant that neither Sakahara nor the next batter could do so. Otherwise, Bobo would never have the
opportunity to make the games last out, as history demanded.

Simple mathematics. A formula worked out three hundred years before, on the field after which this
holodeck simulation was modeled.

No doubt, even Denyabes base on balls had been part of that pattern. As much as Data had wanted to
believe it washis doing, he knew it must have been preordained.

At the end of the dugout, hardly bothering to conceal himself anymore, Terwilliger looked miserable. And
why not? He was watching his last chance at success slowly slip away from him.

If he had been human, Data would have sighed.

The android came out to the on-deck circle just as Galantis replacementa squarish, stolid man named
Houlihantook his place at the plate. Castle started him off with a couple of curveballs, and he was
patient enough to lay off them. But after working the count to two and one, he hit a high chopper to
third base.

It was too late to throw to secondDenyabe had been running on the pitchso the third baseman fired the
ball to first. But the throw was low and the first baseman couldnt quite dig it out. What was more, as
the ball dribbled away, Denyabe was able to scoot into third.

The crowd roared its approval. There were runners on the corners, with only one out.

And in the on-deck circle, Data stood as if rooted to the spot, rapidly trying to make sense of what had
just transpired.

Stop program, he called.

Everyone and everything ground to a halt. It was strangely quiet in the cavernous stadium.

Computer, he said, describe the historical performances of Icebreakers Denyabe, Sakahara, and
Houlihan in their ninth-inning at-bats.

The computer didnt hesitate. Noah Denyabe struck out swinging. Muri Sakahara popped up to the
shortstop. Kevin Houlihan reached base on a throwing error by the third baseman.

Data considered the information. Apparently Sakahara and Houlihan had done exactly what history demanded
of them.

But Denyabe hadnot .

Hundreds of years ago the second baseman had not had Data to advise him. Hed swung at Castles last
pitch and missed it as hed missed the others.

Data shook his head. Without realizing it, he hadchanged history .

It was a refreshing thought. Aliberating thought.

And what was even better, Denyabe was on third base. Now, when Data hit his long fly ball to center
field, it wouldmean something. Denyabe would tag up on the play and tie the game, keeping the
Icebreakers hopes alive.

The notion was immensely satisfying.

Resume program, said the android.

The computer complied. Everything started up again.

Data approached the plate. He took a few practice swings and dug in. The pitcher eyed him, perhaps a
little shaken after the latest turn of events.

The first pitch to Data was a fastball, but it was in the dirt. No chance to hit it.

The next pitch was a curveball, but not one of those tantalizing Number Twos of the sort that Castle had
thrown Denyabe. This one was right down the middleright down Broadway, as Denyabe had said.

A mistake. And maybe Bobos best opportunity to hit the ball deep.

He waited, as Geordi had advised. Concentrated on the flight of the ball, trying to anticipate when it
might break. And then he swung.

As soon as he made contact, Data knew he had done his job. The ball fairly leapt off his bat. Making his
way down the first base line, he watched it take to the air.

It seemed that there was a hush in the big stadium. As if everyone was too preoccupied with the flight
of the baseball to remember to breathe.

Out of the corner of his eye, the android saw his teammates in the dugout. They were rising out of their
seats. And Terwilliger was among them, his expression one of open-mouthed disbelief.

Out in center field, the Sunset player named Clemmons started to backpedal. Then, realizing that the
ball had been hit harder than he thought, he turned his back on it and gave chase.

Data paid little attention to him. After all, history had decided that the ball would be caught. The
real Clemmons had made the same mistake and corrected it the same way some three hundred years before.

But he hadchanged history, hadnt he? He had interrupted the sequence of events, opening up a world of
new possibilities. . . .

As he approached first base, pursuing this line of reasoning, he saw the ball sail over Clemmonss head,
unrelenting in its progress, and a moment later, clear the outfield wall with inches to spare.

Data couldnt believe it. He knew he had hit it hardbut notthat hard. Directly in front of him,
Houlihan was pumping his fist in the air, unable to contain his jubilation.

The android rounded the bases behind him, feeling more mechanical than he had ever felt beforeas if his
body were moving of its own volition.

All about him the stands were erupting with a mighty sound. People were throwing things in the air and
hugging one another. The entire stadium seemed to be vibrating with the force of their exhilaration.

By the time he rounded third and was heading for home, the whole team had come out to meet him. Denyabe,
who had scored the tying run just seconds before, was foremost among them. Sakahara and Jackson and
Cordoban stood behind him, and Galanti had limped out as well.

Houlihan vanished into their midst, slapping hands and whooping for joy. And Data came next, absorbed
into the artificial mass of humanity that was the Fairbanks Icebreakers. Arms were flung about his
shoulders, words of praise and exultation shouted in his ears.

Abruptly, without warning, the android found himself being raised up off the groundlifted onto the
shoulders of his teammates. And only then was he able to discern the chant that the crowd had embraced:
Bo-bo! Bo-bo! Bo-bo!

But one face was missing from the celebration. One very important face.

Data searched for itand finally found it back at the dugout. Slipping down from his perch, slipping out
of their midst entirely, he approached Terwilliger.

The man was just standing on the dugouts top step, tears welling in his eyes. He wasnt quite smiling.
He just looked dumbfounded.

Congratulations, said the android, once he was close enough to be heard over the din.

Terwilliger focused on him, as if seeing him for the first time. He nodded. Thanks. And then he seemed
to come to terms with what had happened, for Data could see the fire ignite again in his eyes. Good
shot, he said, for a snot-nosed, loudmouthed wise ass of a rookie. Just dont let it go to yer head.

The android smiled. I will do my best, he said.

Lyneea opened the door. Obviously she hadnt expectedhim to be the one behind it. But like a good
retainer, she recovered quickly.

Riker, she said. And without your sling.

She looked different from the last time hed seen her. For one thing, she was wearing a dressa long
green and white shift that accentuated the color of her eyes. For another, her hair was pulled back and
braided with a thick silver chain.

I got tired of wearing it.

Good for you. She paused. I thought youd left.

I thoughtyou had, too, he told her. Until I learned that you live here in Besidia.

She shrugged. Someone has to. And I like it better than most of the other places Criathis has posted
me.

I see. He gestured past her. Mind if I come in?

Her eyes searched his. After all, he hadnt yet said what his visit was about. Not at all, she told
him.

Riker went inside. The quality of the furnishings surprised him.

Criathis pays its employees well, he noted.

Skilled undercover people are hard to find. Though I dont know how much good Ill be to the madraga
now that Im so well known.

Sorry about that.

It was unavoidable. And not every retainer needs to operate undercover.

He nodded. Id hate to think I cost you your job.

She regarded him. So. Whyare you here?

Riker found the bar in the room. In a place this well appointed, there wasalways a bar.

Korsch? he asked.

No. Dibdinagii brandy.

He looked at her. Offworld refreshments?

Imoff duty, she explained.

Riker filed away the distinction and located the brandy. He poured two glasses worth, put the pride of
Dibdina back in its place, and delivered the libations.

In the meantime she had found a seat on a chaise longue. He hadnt noticed the slit in her dress before;
he noticed it now.

Thank you, she said, as he handed her a glass. The amber liquid sparkled with the days last light.
But you still havent told me why youre here.

He knelt before her, clinked his glass softly against hers. Because when youve saved someones life,
and that person has saved yours, you dont part company without saying good-bye.

Her eyes narrowed. Whendid you save my life?

When we were at Larraks house, remember? That guard was going to blast you, and I knocked your chair
over.

She smiled skeptically. Oh, come on, Riker.You knocked my chair over? I had already tipped it when you
fell on me.

He felt the mood slipping away, and resolved not to let it happen. Ididnt fall on you, he said
gently. I knocked you over. Theres a difference.

There certainly is. And youfell on me, probably trying to save your own skin.

This was getting annoying. Hell, he told her, you eventhanked me.

Thanked you? I dont recall.

Riker shook his head. Forget it. Forget I even mentioned it. That isnt the point anyway.

Then whatis the point?

He sighed. When we were lying there on the floor, all trussed up on those damned chairs . . . I looked
into your eyes. Just as Im doing now. And I thought I saw something there.

Of course you did. I wasrelieved . Nobody likes to be shot at while shes all trussed up.

His hopes sank another notch. And thats all there was to it?

Lyneea seemed not to understand. What did you expect?

Riker turned wistful. I washoping youd say that, in some small way, you were attracted to me. But I
guess I was mistaken.

She just looked at him. Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. After all, he didnt find himself in this
position very often.

He got to his feet, put the brandy down on an end table. Listen, he said, I guess I jumped to the
wrong conclusion. No harm done. He put out his hand. It was nice working with you.

She continued to look at him. He was about to take his hand back when she finally reached out and
grasped it. Her grip was just as firm as he remembered it.

Nice working with you, too, she told him.

He gazed into those eyes one last time and shook his head. How could he have been so far off base? Hed
never been wrong about this sort of thing before.

Right. Well, then . . . see you around. He started for the door.

His hand was on the old-fashioned doorknob before he heard Lyneeas voice.

Chits and whispers, Riker! Cant a girl have a little fun without you going all to pieces?

He turned. She was standing now, the light from the window tracing a silhouette within the delicate
shift.

Dont just stand there, she told him. Her voice had softened to a purr, with just a hint of humor in
it. Tell me again how you looked into my eyes.

Riker smiled. Ill tell you more than that, he said.

Epilogue

HI. NAMESTELLERCONLON. Guess Ill be your roommate.

Guess so. Im Will Riker.

Where you from, Will Riker?

Alaskaon Earth. A town called Valdez. Ever heard of it?

Cant say I have.

Dont worry about it. Hardly anybody has.

Nice there?

Real nice. But dont get me started. Ill get all mush-mouthed and teary-eyed.

A shrug, a laugh. Okay, then, I wont.

What about you? Where are you from?

Anywhere and everywhere. My dad was a career diplomat for the Federationwhile he was alive, that is.
We traveled around a lot when I was a kidBeta Sargonus, Gamma Trilesias, half a dozen starbases. Like
that.

Wow. Must have been incredible.

Sure,incredible.Hey, listen, Will, do me a favor? If I even thinkof going into the diplomatic corpsI
mean, if I wake up one morning and mumble something aboutwanting to be an ambassadorI want you to
strangle me. Dont ask any questions. Just do itokay?

Now it was Wills turn to laugh. Maybe after I know you a little better. I dont like to strangle
people I hardly know. But tell me, just what is it about diplomacy that turns you off so much?

Teller looked at him. Ever meet an ambassador? One whos been at it for a while?

I dont believe so, no. We dont get too many of them in Valdez; the Federation pretty much overlooks
Alaska when it comes to diplomatic envoys.

Trust meif you bumped into one, you wouldnt like him. Theyre chameleons, Willfaint imitations of
whatever race theyve been kowtowing to most recently. Empty beakers: you pour out one alien culture and
pour in another. And whatever wasthemthe unique commingling of needs and desires that set out to be an
ambassador in the first placeis gone somehow. Evaporated.

Silence. Well, Teller, dont beat around the bush. If you dont want to be a diplomat, just say so.

Im saying so. And Im not kidding about the strangling stuff.

Well see.

So now youre wondering what Im doing at the Academy. I mean, if I dont want to get involved with
alien cultures, why Starfleet?

I hadnt gotten quite that far. But okaywhy Starfleet?

Because we touch things when theyre newwhen theyre bright and shiny and theyve never been touched
before. And then we leave them to the bureaucrats. Thats what life is all about, Willgetting in and
getting out. Stealing a taste and putting the rest back. Take too big a bite out of anythingperson or
placeand it ends up taking a bigger bite out of you.

Hmm. Dorm-room philosophy.

Get used to it, Will. Im chock full of such stuff.

Hey, speaking of bitesits almost chow time.

Right you are. Say, hows your sharash-di?

It could be better, I suppose. Why?

Theres this redhead that I got friendly with on the way from Delta Ganymede. Shes some sort of expert
at sharash-di, and she wanted to know if I playedwhich I dont. But . . .

But ifIplay hersay, after dinneritll give youa chance to get to know her better.

Something like that.

He chuckled. Fineon one condition. Just dont laugh when she whips me.

Absolutely not, Will. Absolutely not. Well, maybe a little.

Come in, said Riker.

As the doors parted with ashussh, Data entered the first officers quarters. He found Riker sitting in
the center of the room, elbows resting on his knees, leaning over the low wooden table he was reputed to
have made with his own hands. In the center of the tables glossy amber-colored surface there was a
simple stoppered vase made of some gray-blue ceramic material. Riker seemed to be studying the vase, as
if it held some special significance for him.

Commander? The android spoke softly, not wishing to interrupt.

The human looked up at him. Sorry, Data. I didnt mean to ignore you. He indicated the vase with a
glance. My friends ashes. In his will, he requested that they be returned to Beta Sargonus Four.
Thats where he was born. Riker smiled to himself. Theres a mountain pool therea place where young
women like to go skinny-dipping. Sort of a tradition, I guessno men allowed. He shook his head.
Teller asked that his ashes be scattered in the pool. That, apparently, was his idea of paradise.

The first officer stopped, noting Datas puzzlement. You know what paradise is, dont you?

The android nodded. Paradise, yes. It is the term skinny-dipping that I cannot seem to find a meaning
for.

Riker explained.

Ah, said Data. I see. And he did, for the most part, though he did not quite understand why swimming
naked should be such a thrill.

Riker picked up the vase, rose, and placed it on a shelf built into the bulkhead. It sat next to a book
calledBaseball Compendium . Smiling again, be considered the vase.

Its not going to be easy to get near that pool, he said, much less dump Tellers remains in it. His
expression became positively mischievous. But Im going to give it my best shot. After all, what are
friends for?

Indeed, said the android.

The first officer gestured to the chair that stood opposite his. Care to sit down?

Thank you, said Data. He sat. So did Riker.

Now, he said, enough of my friends bizarre wishes. Unless I miss my guess, youre here to talk about
that baseball game.

That is true, said the android.

The human leaned back in his chair. So? What did you think?

Data regarded him. I found it most intriguing, he said.

Riker looked a little disappointed. I sort of hoped you would say youdenjoyed it.

The android thought about it. I suppose I did, he concluded, to the extent that I am capable of such
a response. A particular thought intruded and he brightened. Especiallyone part.

What part was that?

The part where I won the game.

Rikers eyebrows shot up. Youwon thegame?

The android nodded. Yes.

Youre kidding.

That is unlikely, Data reminded him.

Yes. Of course it is. Riker looked at him askance. But how did you do it?

I hit a home run, said the android. In the bottom of the ninth inning.

The human stared at him with undisguised admiration. Why, Datathatsgreat! Thats the kind of thing
little boys used todream about!

Yes, said the android. Wesley has informed me of that fact.

Riker grinned. Youre full of surprisesyou know that?

Data didnt quite know what to say. And he still hadnt asked the question that had been bothering him.

Fortunately Riker picked that up. Youre wondering about something, arent you? What is it?

The android paused to collect his thoughts. It appeared from your choice of persona that you identified
with the Icebreakers. And with Bobo in particular.

Thats true, said the first officer. The Icebreakers were the only Alaskan team in major league
baseball. In fact, one of the few Alaskan teams inany professional sport. He shrugged. When they made
their run for the American League pennant, they made a fan of every Alaskan alive. He paused. Of
course, I was born hundreds of years after the last of those men had died. But when I read about them as
a youngster, they struck a chord in me. They were my heroes. Particularly BoboI dont know why,
exactly. Maybe because he was still a kid when they disbanded the Icebreakersand since I was a kid,
too, he was the easiest for me to identify with.

But given your affinity for the Icebreakers, said Data, why would you wish to experience their most
crushing defeat?

Riker looked at him. Thats simple, Data. When they lost that playoff game by a single run, it cast a
pall over the state for years to come. It always seemed to me that it was some kind of injustice, and I
wished I could do something about it. Or at leasttry . I guess it was an exercise inhe seemed to
search for a phrase, and find itin the art of the possible. In short, a challenge. Humans thrive on
them, you know.

A challenge, repeated the android. He found yet another source of discomfort. Then . . . did I ruin
the program for you? By finding a way to beat the Sunsets? Riker shook his head. Not at all. Ill just
have to find adifferent way.

He would, too. Data could tell by the set of his jaw. Somehow Riker would give the Icebreakers a reason
to celebrate again.

If I may be present, said the android, I would like to see that.

The first officer laughed. Reaching across the table, he clapped Data on the shoulder. Thats a
promise, my friend. And from now on, Will Riker keepsall his promises.