Falling Toward Destiny

By Felicia Ferguson

Keywords: Riker/Troi, character death

Spoilers: Star Trek Nemesis

Timeline: Occurs after the movie.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can no more claim to own TNG than I can claim to be the "mother of fanfiction." More's the pity, on both counts.

Author's note: This is my first Next Generation fanfic and as such comments are welcome (with the exception of flames). I've written in the style of Peter David's Imzadi books since I like the way he breaks up the timeline.

Now

"IMZADI!" The scream tore through her brain as she watched the universe slow, watched with increasing dread as the Romulan disrupter fired point-blank at his head, watched as he crumpled to the deck. Her mind whispered, "Imazadi," a last desperate hope that he would answer. They had been separated by hundreds and sometimes thousands of light years, but she could always hear him, could always feel him. Now there was silence, a mind-numbing, body aching silence. She didn't feel her hand pull the phaser from his now lax grip. Didn't recognize herself setting the weapon to its highest level and returning the Romulan's fire. Instead, as she watched the figure disintegrate before her, she knew only one thing: she would never feel again.

A second later, the universe raced back to its normal pace leaving the bridge mercifully deserted of enemy fire. Deanna closed her eyes a moment, then recovering her equilibrium darted a quick, appraising glance about the deck. "Damage report, Mr. Lohn," she ordered with brisk efficiency.

The young ensign, his forehead scraped and caked with blood, hobbled to his post. He shook his head, despair etched into his features. "Oh, gods," he murmured. He was new to the Titan. Deanna had met with him during his first week and determined him to be an eager young officer, if inexperienced in battle. She prayed to whomever might be listening that he would now rise to the occasion.

"Mr. Lohn! Report!" she barked, jolting him from his shock.

"It's bad, Commander. Multiple casualties coming in from all decks. We have a hull breach on decks nine through twelve. Shields are down completely. Weapons banks are empty. Warp drive is offline. Impulse engines are offline." He raised his head, his gaze meeting hers with what her counselor's training supplied as the beginnings of post-traumatic shock. "We're dead in the water."

Deanna, having guessed that much on her own, nodded anyway. "And the Romulans?"

The fingers that normally danced without hesitation across the Ops panel now trailed across the undamaged portions. "All members from the boarding party are confirmed dead. One Warbird destroyed. One incapacitated with weapons offline. And the third…"

Deanna turned to him and pierced him with an impatient glare. "Yes, Mr. Lohn, the third?" She didn't have time for hesitation. None of them did.

"It's gone."

"Care to elaborate, Ensign?"

Lohn gulped. When he had first met Counselor Deanna Riker, he had been amazed by her open warmth, her happy welcome and encouraging smile. She had asked about his family, about his future goals, and about himself. She had cared. Her dark eyes had absorbed every minute detail of their conversation. Lohn had been certain that she could never be anything but what she was when he met her. He now knew differently and shuddered under the steely gaze that held a deep abiding sorrow overlaid by a survivor's determination to live.

"I can find no trace of the ship, Commander. There are no indications that it is cloaked and still in the area. There is a warp trail leading off to sector 561, but it's faint."

Deanna nodded and turned back to the viewscreen, her gaze snagged by the contorted bodies of the first officer and lieutenant who had recently manned the conn. She swallowed her sorrow as she recognized other casualties, crewmates who lay in various stages of death. She couldn't bring herself to look to the right, to see him again. Not now, not yet, not when roughly three hundred people were relying on her to save them.

She squared her shoulders then briskly ordered a secure hailing frequency to be opened. "This is Commander Deanna Ri--Troi." She couldn't speak the name, not when the man who had given it to her now lay face down, phaser burns blackening his skin, disfiguring his hands and face. But it didn't matter that her eyes didn't recognize him. Her heart knew the truth. She was empty. Her whispered, "Imzadi," went unanswered. He was dead.

She swallowed the tears that threatened to tear through her commanding resolve. There would be time enough later to grieve. For now, she had to make certain that the Titan and the rest of her crew survived. "I repeat," she continued in a stronger voice, "this is Commander Deanna Troi of the Federation starship Titan. To any Federation ships in the area, we request your assistance. We have been attacked by a renegade group of Romulan Warbirds. We have sustained heavy damage and the casualties include the captain, the first officer and several hundred others."

Deanna felt an absurd burst of pride that her voice had not cracked. Referring to him by his title allowed her to view his death from a remote portion of her mind. Even though nothing about her felt remote. She was raw, wounded, and dying herself, but to look at her she was a pillar of strength. So this was why Starfleet had balked so long at allowing married couples to serve together.

The turbolift doors slid open to reveal several harried members of the medical team, each with varying amounts of blood soaked into their uniforms. Deanna watched with the impassivity of shell-shock as they tended to the wounded and removed the bodies of the dead. A lieutenant dressed in the blue colors of the medical corps sucked in a startled gasp as he counted the number of pips on the collar of one of the victims. He glanced to another doctor, then to her.

Suddenly depleted of all strength, Deanna sunk into the captain's chair. Her chair now. The ship had been secured, damage assessed, and the enemy contained. With nothing left to fight, her adrenaline deserted her and all she could do was wait. Wait for Starfleet to answer, wait for engineering to repair the ship, wait for the Romulans to return, wait…for anything to happen. Because nothing could be worse than what had already occurred.

…to be continued…