All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [31]
Riker nodded, trying to ignore the pain of remem-brance. “It’s all right,” he lied. Then, changing the subject: “So you really think you’re going to be happy running a research colony?”
Now it was Sam’s turn to shrug. “! promised Korina that we’d try something different for a while—and this is what she chose. After keeping her penned up on the Enterprise for fifteen years, I don’t really get much of a say in the matter.” He smiled. “And then again, maybe I’ve had enough of the shipboard life myself. I guess I’m more of a landlubber than ! ever cared to admit.” Riker eyed him affectionately. “I’m going to miss you,
‘ 7”
Lavelle. You’re sure I can’t talk you out ot this. The younger man shook his head. “Too late. My bags are already packed.” He gazed at the admiral. “And what about you? How long are you going to stay in that dusty old office of yours?” “Until they kick me out of it,” the older man quipped. “And not before?” Sam pressed, a little mischievous-ly. “Are you saying you don’t get the urge anymore to hop on a starship and see faraway places? To go where no one has gone before?”
It was a good question, even if it was posed half in jest. Riker took a breath, let it out.
“Faraway places,” he said, surprising himself with the note of bitterness in his voice, “don’t mean quite as much as they used to, somehow. Maybe I’m getting old.”
For what might have been the first time since their conversation began, Lavelle spoke in earnest. “Maybe you’re letting yourself get old,” he suggested.
Yet another subject the admiral wasn’t eager to delve into. “Tell your people I’ll have a replacement in a day or two, Sam. And keep in touch, dammit. From what I hear, Beta Retimnion is as accessible by subspace as anywhere else in the galaxy.”
The younger man smiled, though a bit wistfully. “That works both ways, sir. I’ll see you around. And thanks again… for everything. Lavelle out.”
Again, the screen went dark, and Riker leaned back into his seat. It was a sobering moment when a man ten years his junior had the temerity to retire from the center seat.
Where had the years gone? And how had he gotten so far away from the thing he loved best… the search for adventure that had propelled him into space in the first place?
He wished he could turn back the clock a quarter-century, when things were different… when he had everything he wanted and nothing to feel guilty about. What he wouldn’t do to have those days back again ….
As the communication with Admiral Riker came to an end, Geordi sighed. This wasn’t going to sit well with the captain. But on the other hand, it was clearly for the best.
After all, they had no business trying to make their way through Klingon territory. They weren’t the confident young officers they used to be—and even if they had been, they would have been risking a lot to satisfy an old man’s fantasy.
As he watched, Picard turned his back on the monitor. It wasn’t difficult to divine his emotions. He was frustrated and he was angry—and worse than that, he felt betrayed by a man he’d once thought of as a son.
But he would get over it. Geordi would take him home and see to that. A couple of days from now, he would forget he had ever attached any importance at all to the Devron system.
“Damn him, anyway,” growled Picard. “Ungrateful young pup. He’s been sitting behind that desk too long. Do you know how many times I pulled his chestnuts out of the fire? Do you?”
“Well,” said Geordi, trying hard to mask his relief, “I guess all we can do now is wait… and see if the Yorktown finds anything.”
Data turned to him and replied, “There is another option.”
Geordi sighed. Another option was the last thing he wanted right now. “And that is?” he inquired.
“We could arrange passage aboard a medical ship,” explained the android. “A medical ship?” echoed Picard, his eyes narrowing. Data nodded. “There was an outbreak of Terellian plague on Romulus. The Klingon High Council has been allowing Federation medical ships