All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [65]
Then he called upon the one who had been closest to her to plant the first seeds in the soil before the platform. Riker and Worf glared at each other across the patch of freshly turned earth. Riker saw in Worf’s eyes the pain that was a reflection of his own. Then he gave way, letting Worf have the honor of planting the seeds.
He hoped that somehow this would help make things right between him and Worf, but he doubted it. Klingons were good at holding grudges. With a start, he remembered he was in Ten-Forward. “You can’t go back,” the doctor was saying. “But maybe you can still salvage the present.”
Focusing his eyes, Riker looked at her. “Sure,” he said. “And maybe latinurn will start growing on trees.”
She leaned forward, undaunted. “Talk to him, Will. Let him know you regret what happened.” A wistful smile crossed her face. “Deanna would’ve wanted it that way.”
He knew in his heart that she was right. That was the way Deanna would’ve wanted it. But that didn’t mean it was something he could do. Dammit, thought Picard. Dammit to hell. When had they reconfigured all the corridors on this ship?
Of course, he knew that they hadn’t done any such thing. But it certainly seemed as if they had. Though he had once known these streamlined hallways like those in his family’s house, he now felt utterly lost.
Pausing at an intersection, he looked first one way and then the other. Which way to go? He wasn’t at all sure. And the fact that he was drawing curious looks from passing crew members didn’t make it any easier to figure things out.
Finally, Picard chose a direction and proceeded down the corridor. After a moment or two, it looked promis-ing. And then, at long last, he saw the set of doors that he’d been looking for.
As he approached triumphantly, they opened and he prepared to confront Riker… but found himself staring into one of the transporter rooms instead of Ten-Forward. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned away and resumed his ever more frustrating search.
Continuing down the corridor, he decided that this time he was going in the right direction. But when he came to another intersection, he found himself flustered again. It was no use. Everything looked too much like everything else. How ridiculous, he thought… he couldn’t find his way in a ship he had once commanded.
Finally, he stopped a passing ensign. “How do I… how do I get to Ten-Forward?” he asked.
The young man couldn’t help but stare at Picard’s garb. Still, he was helpful enough to point at the ceiling. “Two decks up, sir. You want section zero-zero-five.”
“Thank you,” the captain told him. Pulling his nightclothes more closely about him, as if trying to gather up the last, remaining shreds of his dignity, he headed back ifi the direction of the nearest turbolift.
Sitting there in Ten-Forward, considering the rueful expression on Admiral Riker’s face, Data couldn’t help but reflect that there were areas of human nature he might never fully understand. “Oh, my god,” said Beverly.
It was her tone of voice, as much as the actual words, that caused Data to turn and follow her gesture. When he had done so, he clearly saw the reason for her exclamation.
Captain Picard had entered Ten-Forward in his nightclothes. It was a remarkably inappropriate act; even Data could see that. By comparison, the gray streak in his hair was a thing of great subtlety.
The captain moved directly to the table occupied by Worf and Admiral Riker. His eyes were wide with excitement.
“Will!” he cried. “I know what’s happening… I know what causes the anomaly. We have to go back!”
The admiral just stared at him, openmouthed. Before he knew it, Data found himself approaching the table. Geordi and Dr. Crusher were not far behind him, motivated by concern for their former leader.
By the time they got there, Riker was shaking his head in disbelief. “Listen, Jean-Luc. The only place you’re going is back to bed.” The captain was frantic. He shook his fists at the air. “Dammit, Will, I know what’s going on. We’re causing the anomaly… with a… with the tachyon pulse.