Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [133]
Joseph’s voice broke and he had to stop. “Howling,” he whispered, shaking his head from side to side. And then a little stronger, as he drew on some inner reserve of strength: “Howling on the inside of his damned face plate, as if it was him that was dying, and not Jack. But just for a second or two. Then he pulled himself together and got me to safety.”
A muttered curse. “That’s when I told everyone the story—about how we’d blacked out from all that energy coming out of the transfer tunnel. About how we’d done our best, but it was just too much for us.” Now the sobs came, wracking him, shaking the man like a rag doll. “And they believed me,” he rasped angrily. “God help me, how they believed me.”
Crusher sat there in her chair, not sure what to feel. Should I be angry, she wondered? Bitter? Should I pity him—or should I pity me?
Slowly, she got up and came around her desk. Pug wouldn’t—or couldn’t—look up at her. He was too ashamed—and not only of the tears that had to be in his eyes. He covered his face with his square, powerful hands.
How long ago was Jack killed in that accident? It seemed like forever. And Joseph had been carrying this secret—this burden—all that time. Until now he probably thought he’d be carrying it to his grave.
Tentatively, she reached out—and placed her hand on his shoulder. It was like a rock, clenched against the pain. She could feel it.
“It’s all right,” she said mechanically. And then she realized—it was all right, wasn’t it? Whatever crime this man had committed, if one could call it a crime, was a long time ago. And he had been her husband’s friend; Jack wouldn’t have wanted to see him this way, no matter what. She said the words again, with more conviction this time: “It’s all right, Pug. I forgive you.”
Joseph looked up at her, his eyes red-ringed and swollen. Taking her hand off his shoulder, he held it against his cheek. And shamelessly cried some more.
It wasn’t really Cadwallader’s fault that she was running a few minutes behind schedule. After all, they hadn’t let her see Ben Zoma until just a little while ago, and she hadn’t wanted to leave sickbay before welcoming her captain back to the world of the living. Hell, she’d have done that much even if he’d been only her commanding officer—and not her friend as well.
Nonetheless, she hated like the devil to be late. Especially when it came to something as mysterious as the dinner experience Will Riker had created for her. Despite her protests, he’d told her nothing at all of what was in store—advising her only to wear “that dress” he’d seen the evening of their last scheduled appointment.
Finally, a little out of breath, she turned the corner and came in sight of their rendezvous point—the entrance to holodeck one. But Riker was nowhere to be seen.
Oh, come on, she remarked silently, slowing down as she approached the place. I’m not that late. And even if I were, he owes me one after the way he—
Abruptly, the doors to the holodeck opened and Riker stepped outside. He was wearing a fitted black suit, the kind worn on Earth for formal occasions. The first officer smiled and extended his hand to her.
She looked past him into the holodeck. What she saw looked like a patch of lush green fir forest, with shards of deep azure sky showing between the needled branches.
“Don’t just stand there,” Riker said. “Come on in.”
She turned to him. “Are you, um, sure I’m dressed for it?”
He nodded reassuringly. “You couldn’t be dressed more perfectly.”
Laying her hand in his, Cadwallader let him draw her into the holodeck. As the doors closed behind her, she got a better idea of her surroundings.
They were perched on a steep mountainside—or more specifically, on a wooded ledge jutting out from a steep mountainside. She could see other mountains all around them—a chain stretching in every visible direction to the horizon. And above them was a perfect dome of blue heaven, uninterrupted by even a single wisp of cloud. It looked like the kind of place that should have been quite cold, but the