Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [38]
“Interesting,” observed the chief engineer.
“That’s what Data said.”
“Data?” echoed Geordi.
“So much for Priority One secrecy,” said Guinan. Wesley shook his head ruefully. “No need for concern. The mission’s still a secret.” He sighed. “I still can’t figure out what Commander Riker’s doing down there. I mean, I was doing pretty good until I spoke with Data, but since then I haven’t 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 I’m a little worried.”
“Worried?” said the chief engineer. “About Commander Riker?” He dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “Listen, Wes, if there’s one thing I’ve learned since shipping out on the Enterprise, it’s that Will Riker can take care of himself.”
Wesley frowned. “Normally, I’d 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 couldn’t help but think. “Is there something in particular that’s got you worried, Wes?”
The boy’s expression suggested he was reciting from something he’d 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 violence—including certain forms of dueling permitted by law—is the most common cause of death.”
“Statistics,” said Geordi. “Never yet met one I liked.”
Wesley looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I am taking it too seriously. It’s just that I’ve got this feeling …”
Geordi clasped his shoulder and gave it a reassuring shake. “Take it from me, Ensign. Whatever’s going on down there, it’s nothing Commander Riker can’t handle.”
Wesley regarded him and nodded. “You’re probably right,” he conceded.
“I’m definitely right,” said the chief engineer. “Trust me on this one.”
Chapter Seven
RIKER HAD HEARD ABOUT the Maze of Zondrolla on his first visit to Imprima—as in “You really should see the maze while you’re 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 puzzles—especially children’s puzzles—and it was her husband’s 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 Zondrolla’s eyes light up. After all, how many puzzles could there be in the world? So the first official got smart—or so he thought. He stopped looking and started building. And by the time the dust cleared, he had built Zondrolla a prodigious maze—a 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 husband—until the bills for the maze started coming in. Not too much later, Porfathas—hardly one of the more stable madraggi to begin with—went belly up bankrupt, and its holdings were eagerly divided among its rivals.
Worse—for the first official—Zondrolla wasn’t cut out for poverty. When the madraga lost its wealth, she ran away with one of the builders who’d grown wealthy constructing the maze.
The structure itself was allowed to stand, as a reminder of what might happen when one put one’s 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 one’s way in and out. Patterns in red and yellow took one closer