The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [160]
But their relationship ended abruptly and not well. Riker had left without even saying good-bye.
When they met again, serving together aboard the Enterprise, they always said they were just friends. It was true enough. But it was also, in many ways, the worst kind of lie. What they meant to say was that they were only friends, and in his own heart, whether he could admit it to himself or not, Riker knew it wasn’t true.
Riker had his share of relationships with women after Deanna, but he never committed to any of them. He couldn’t commit knowing she was still in the universe. He may have convinced himself that their relationship was over, maybe even believed it, but there was always a part of him that hoped they might reconnect somehow.
But he’d acted as if they were just friends. Nothing more. When Deanna revealed her betrothal to Wyatt Miller, Riker could do little more than watch and take out his frustrations on a hapless holodeck. But it was the firebreak he needed to bury those feelings for her.
Even so, when Deanna began her relationship with Worf years later, it strained his friendship with both of them. He wasn’t sure what would have happened if the Klingon hadn’t transferred to Deep Space 9.
But recently, on Ba’ku, they had rekindled their romance. Riker realized he had to let Deanna know that he still thought of her the same way he had so many years ago, that they were far more than just friends. Since telling her, he now wondered what the hell had taken him so long.
Riker returned to his tricorder, positioned it so that the pool was behind him, and thumbed its recording tab. “Deanna,” he said into the tricorder, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come back, and I’m sorry that I waited so long to tell you how I felt. And I’m sorry that…this is such a lousy message.”
Riker swore in disgust and hit the tricorder’s Stop and Delete contacts in one fluid motion. He’d had enough practice with the maneuver; this was his fifth aborted farewell. But one more false start hardly mattered. He simply couldn’t let his last words to Deanna be a litany of “I’m sorrys.”
He buried his head in his hands. It just wasn’t fair to get so close and then have it all taken away. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to die.
He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Worf and he had discussed death on occasion, and the Klingon seemed unaffected by the concept. It was just part of being a warrior to Worf, and as long as it was a good death, an honorable death, he would welcome it.
Riker’s death may have been honorable, but it was far from good. Despite what Worf would say, one month before your wedding was a terrible day to die.
He had faced death early when his mother died and secretly thought that if she’d fought harder, if she’d wanted it more, she’d still be alive. And just as secretly, he hated himself every time he thought it.
Riker railed against the grim reaper every chance he got. In his time on the Enterprise, he’d avoided certain death any number of times. Maybe he had gotten used to it. Maybe he had become so comfortable with the concept of avoiding his own death that he just couldn’t believe it could happen to him anymore.
“Speak for yourself, sir,” he’d once told Picard. “I plan to live forever.” Picard had smiled at the joke, but in Riker’s mind, it wasn’t meant to be humorous. Even though he knew it wasn’t possible, he meant every word.
The fact that death might finally best him, that bothered him. Hell, it infuriated him.
Death wasn’t something to be accepted, it was something to be fought.
Riker had fought a few losing battles before and found himself thinking back to the Kobayashi Maru from Starfleet Academy. “Everyone loses,” his instructor told him afterward. “But I’ve never had a cadet order an EVA suit be brought to him so he could fight an enemy ship by hand.”
There was nothing wrong with losing, Riker figured, as long as you didn’t give up.
With that, Riker opened his tricorder and made sure his face