Author's Note: For purposes of this story, I created a back story for Riker. I originally wrote this story in the second or third year of ST: TNG. Back then, not a lot had been established about his life, so I felt free to embellish details in here, which may not be accurate as of later iterations.

6. The Scientist's Daughter

Commander Will Riker, Executive Officer of the U.S.S. Enterprise, materialized into a room the likes of which he'd never seen before. The walls, ceiling and floor were composed of a crystalline material of some sort, like glass, a soothing whiteness beyond creating a peaceful sensation almost of being suspended in space or water; brilliant blue underlighting was beginning to glow through the surface beneath his feet with the intensity of liquid fire. Somewhere a flute was playing a delicate Oriental-sounding passage, and there was the unmistakable scent of Remadaian flowers in the air; altogether, the effect was more than pleasing: Stimulating.

A door was sliding open at the far side of the receiving room: Dr. Eric Rhaenn entered and was walking toward him, the intense blue light shining on the tip of the renowned scientist's bulbous nose, glowing on his balding head, and along the folds of the white robe that sparkled like kiridium on the scientist's plump body.

He stepped forward and held out his hand, noticing the gold braiding on his dress uniform sleeve gleaming vivid blue along the edges. "Dr. Rhaenn, it's a very great honor to meet you. I'm Commander William Riker."

The scientist's brown eyes smiled up into his as they shook hands. The brilliance of the mind shining out from behind that friendly, curious gaze. Remarkable -

It's like looking into Einstein's eyes.

The scientist's smile widened, head tipping slightly to one side. "Indeed: Commander Riker, it is my honor to welcome you to my home. Please come in."

"Thank you. Captain Picard sends his regrets, to you ... and your ... wife ..." he said; his voice drifted off as his attention strayed.

The blue lighting had spread and moved languidly up the walls as he had walked across the room, transfixing him; strange, but he thought he could actually feel the color intensifying, coursing through his body in a slow, sensual flow. A pleasant, almost erotic, sensation was curving up his spine, sparkling out over his body. Rhaenn was speaking to him; he drew his eyes back to his host with a bit of effort, just hearing the question.

"How is the Captain?"

He gathered his thoughts enough to answer. "Very well, thank you. Disappointed that he couldn't be here himself tonight. The Captain asked me to say that he looks forward to seeing you and your wife during his official visit tomorrow."

The scientist turned, and he was following, through a door and out into a wide corridor, glass-white like the room they had just left. "My wife and I met your Captain at the Admiral's Dinner. Of course, he must have told you. We were both quite taken with Jean-Luc Picard. Very impressed."

"Yes, he mentioned the dinner." Quite an encounter, from the Captain's telling: Not much he could do to top that particular evening. He would try his best not to be a poor second tonight, make the time together pass as pleasantly, if not as memorably, as that earlier meeting.

His host smiled, a shade wiser. "We don't entertain very often, Commander, so isolated as we are out here. Perhaps we will bore you."

"I hardly think that's possible, Dr. Rheann," he said. "I've read your books, and most of your wife's articles. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have the chance to discuss your work ... with you both ..."

He stopped speaking. The corridor was suddenly alight, a spill of silver pouring down from above, flowing over the ceiling and down the walls like music, like notes from that incredible flute he could hear playing, ringing clear and sweet in his ears, the color spilling pleasurably into his own body, silver flecks sparkling in his veins ...

"You must meet a lot of scientists in your travels with the Enterprise, Commander."

From far away he heard Rhaenn's voice. "Mmm?" He had to force himself to tear his eyes away from the river of pulsing silver. "Yes ... yes, quite a few ... Excuse me, Doctor, but you have an extraordinary house," he blurted out, then, unable to contain himself any longer. "I've never seen anything like it."

The scientist cast a measuring eye up. "No, I suppose not. My wife and I built the thing as an experiment, a little side hobby. Simple, really: Sensors measure brain chemistry through the retina and trigger patterns in the colors you see, stimulating the brain to release certain mood-altering chemicals; endorphins, for instance."

"Ah," he murmured, smiling to himself at the mind that would call such an invention "simple." "Producing a natural high."

"A little more than that, but yes, basically. The system reacts to give you what it thinks you need; but it isn't perfect."

He almost didn't hear the last, mesmerized by the silver river shimmering down the walls; he could feel silver frothing, sparkling, in the back of his throat, dancing like silverglass stars along the fibres of his body, the sensation of silver spreading through his system like a million tiny bells trilling at just the right pitch.

"Feels wonderful," he murmured. "What's wrong with it?"
The scientist waved his hand. "Oh, it's always tampering with you, always working to adjust your mood upwards. When you feel like sulking, say, it won't let you." Rhaenn turned to look at him, tilting his head a bit to the side. "Interesting to see how people react to it."

"Don't judge by me, Doctor," he said. "I'm feeling a little off my feet, frankly."

"Actually, at the dosages you've been getting, most people would be flat on their backs," the scientist replied, with a nod toward him that suggested a touch of admiration. "Your self-control is quite strong, Commander, no doubt it'd be difficult to drink you under the table."

They were entering into a larger space, glass-white like the others. In the center of the room was a shining white circle, long sheer curtains floating in a low sparkling mist around the perimeter. Inside the curtains was a crystalline table and four chairs, a thin glass vase holding one long-stemmed Remadaian flower in the center of the table, its distinctive fragrance filling the air.

"My wife will be along in a moment. Our daughter's just arrived from school, T'Prianne's gone to see about her. Anna will be joining us later. Something to drink?" Rhaenn waved to a counter where rows of glistening bottles stood alongside shapely glasses. "Ah, here she is. This is my wife, Commander."

A tall, slender woman was coming into the room, dressed in the same type of shining robe as her husband, but to a much different effect. T'Prianne Rhaenn was at least partly Vulcan, judging, besides the name, by the strong, fines bones of her face and the slightly upcurved ears. But her beautiful eyes were violet, surrounded by lush, black lashes; in this quadrant, he'd only heard of that iris color in Noonians, and he was startled that he'd not known this about the famous scientist. He wished now that he'd taken the time to look at their bio-data before leaving the ship. It occurred to him that, famous as she was, he couldn't recall ever having seen a picture of her -

A burst of golden color bloomed under his feet like flowers opening suddenly, a field of bright gold, sweeping up the walls of the room, and he felt the color like sweet honey being drawn up into his body, through his palms and the soles of his feet, coating his lungs like a fine golden powder as he breathed in and out, rushing through his veins like some luscious narcotic sugar ...

He managed at last to drag his eyes away from the hypnotic color. T'Prianne Rhaenn was standing in front of him; and if those violet eyes did mean she was Noonian, very likely she was effortlessly reading his mind along with his state of being. Which at the moment was very wonderful. And T'Prianne Rhaenn was very, very lovely indeed, her clothing and skin glowing golden; he remembered the Captain telling him how beautiful she was. His mind opened suddenly to the pleasure of the evening ahead, and he smiled happily at the lady standing before him. "Doctor Rhaenn."

She held her slender hand out to him. "Commander Riker, welcome to our home."

He bowed slightly to her and took her hand; it was slim and cool against his palm. "I'm honored, Dr. Rhaenn, thank you for having me." Almost expecting the words to float out of his mouth in golden clouds, so strong was his feeling of being bodily infused with the color.

"I apologize for not having been in time to greet you, Commander," she said. "Our daughter's just arrived from Vulcan, as I'm sure my husband has told you; she will be joining us later. Can we offer you something to drink?" She gestured over to the table. "Or shall we go straight into dinner?"

He looked at the table, at T'Prianne Rhaenn. "Just as you like, Doctor," he said.

She nodded, the corners of her mouth suggesting she was pleased by his answer, and started toward the table. "We'll go in to dinner, then, as if we were quite en famille. I hope you like wine, Commander, my husband has several very good ones he wants to share with you tonight. We've been saving them for a special occasion."

That last reminding him that he wasn't the guest they'd been expecting. "The Captain was very sorry he couldn't come himself, Dr. Rhaenn, but he couldn't leave the ship."

"How is the Captain? And, please: There are two Dr. Rhaenns here. You may call me T'Prianne," she said, waving her hand as they approached the table; the gauzy curtains parted gracefully, revealing the sparkling glass table exquisitely set.

Rhaenn gestured him toward the table. "Just as soon you called me Eric," the scientist said, affably.

He moved to T'Prianne Rhaenn's side, handing the lady into her seat, before crossing to the chair opposite. "If you'll both call me Will. He's fine, Doctor - T'Prianne. I mentioned to your husband that the Captain is looking forward to seeing you tomorrow on his tour here."

T'Prianne nodded the gentlemen into their seats. "Will. Is it William, then?" she asked.

"Well, everyone calls me Will, but yes, William Thomas Riker," he replied, settling into his chair; the back of his mind somewhere took passing notice that both mentions of the Captain's visit had elicited only polite responses. Though they didn't show it, perhaps they were feeling snubbed by their invited guest; better to drop the subject, in any case. He was feeling too good to object to anything; he would not even mind if they insisted on calling him William.

"William Thomas Riker," Rhaenn repeated, as he was opening a bottle of wine. "Your people are from Earth, then? You're Terran?"

"Yes, Terran. Alaska, in the Northern Territories, on my mother's side."

Rhaenn had stopped pouring the wine to attend. "I had family there. Where in Alaska?"

"Near the Denali Reserve. The land's been in my mother's family for centuries, since long before the Federation. My uncle still lives down there on the place."

Rhaenn nodded. "Ah. And your father's people? Terran, too?"

"The original settlers on Mars Colony Ten."

The scientist's eyes lit up. "Ah, yes, the Successful Tenth! You're from strong stock, then, William." Rhaenn nodded. "And so you left Alaska and went off to the Academy. In search of adventure yourself, I take it?"

He smiled. "Yes, that's partly right. And I had relatives in military service as far back as the Civil War. It runs in the family, I guess you could say."

"Ah, yes, I see." The scientist nodded again. "How did they meet, your parents? Was your mother also in the ranks?"

"My mother was the daughter of a diplomat." He paused, his eyes running over the fine things, placed precisely on the sparkling table. "This is lovely, T'Prianne."

She acknowledged his compliment with a graceful nod, gave her husband a reminding look. Rhaenn finished pouring the wine, returned his glass. But neither spoke, and he realized after a moment that they were waiting for him to continue with what he was saying.

"How did my parents meet," he said, picking up the thread of the conversation. "My grandmother used to tell me the story when I was young, let's see how well I remember it. My mother was attending an embassy party with her parents, and my father was there, he was a senior aide to the Council President at the time. My grandma used to show me pictures of my father, she told me how handsome he was, how dashing, she said that he could charm the birds from the trees. My mother was young when she met my father, just out of private school; at her age, I guess she was impressed enough. In any case, they married a few months after they met, and he went away - and he kept going away," he added, with a small laugh.

"Your parents are divorced?" Rhaenn asked.

"No, I only meant that my father traveled a lot; he's in the Foreign Service. My mother died years ago, when I was very young."

"I'm very sorry to hear." The scientist paused. "Did your father remarry?"

"No, he never did."

"Oh, then, your parents were happy together."

His parents' happiness. His mind shrank away from the question, as if it were a probe exploring a sensitive nerve. Lifting his glass, he sniffed, then tasted the wine; superb. "This is very good." He drank a bit more: Excellent. "It isn't Warwick?"

The scientist nodded. "You are a connoisseur; yes, exactly, Warwick. A good year, I think. The year our daughter was born."

He sipped the delicious wine. Only a hundred bottles of Warwick a year were produced, offered to a private and very select client list. He'd tasted it only once before, at the signing of the Saroyan III Inclusionaries, but he'd never forgotten it: No one who had been privileged to taste Warwick ever forgot the experience.

T'Prianne leaned slightly forward, her violet eyes meeting his. "You will forgive our personal questions, William," she said. "We are scientists, you know. It's in our nature to be inquisitive."

"Not at all," he replied, politely, to the lady. He set his glass down, recalling their query. "I just - I don't know exactly what to say. My parents happy together? I guess you'd have to define happiness first. I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he said, quickly, interrupting himself. "I meant that my parents were two very different people, with different views of happiness. My father always liked to be going, and doing, big things, he liked making things happen; on Earth, they used to call those type of people 'movers and shakers,' and that's him in a nutshell. He wasn't made for the sit-at-home kind of life. Staying in one place for long, reading by the fire with a dog at his feet was just unimaginable to him." He laughed at the image: Not his father. A little servo-robot was coming into the room, a soup tureen on her tray; neither of the scientists turned away from him. "And my mother - Well, she was raised in the country. When she wasn't at the embassy with her parents, my mother was in private schools. That was the kind of life she was used to, quiet, peaceful; exactly the opposite of my father's way of living. According to the stories, my mother went on one tour with my father, and he came home with her for my birth. And that was that. My father came home sometimes to see his family, and my mother stayed on the estate, until she died."

Rhaenn reached for the bottle and refilled his glass; he glanced at the date and calculated: If what Rhaenn had said about their daughter's birthdate coinciding with the age of the wine was true, then she was young in human terms, not even at the Vulcan Age of Third Commitment. Was the girl as strikingly beautiful as her mother, brilliant as her parents? If so, and added to the Rhaenns' prestige, there would surely be no end of suitors for her hand, if she had not already been promised to someone, as was the case in most prominent Vulcan families. Although, out here ... Well, perhaps she'd meet somebody at school, or in her travels. There were plenty of young men at the Outpost, of course, but he doubted if her parents would want that kind of a life for their daughter, married to a Star Fleet officer, moving from ship to ship, Outpost to Outpost, always on the go, never settled anywhere. Or settled somewhere, and left behind, alone, like his mother ... Funny how he was thinking about all this now ...

The scientist nodded. "Your mother would have preferred her husband closer to home, and to her," Rhaenn said, the extraordinary eyes reflecting their understanding; an understanding greater than his, no doubt; he had never cared to think too deeply about it. The subject was too painful, where his mother was concerned. And himself; he never could get over the feeling that he had been a severe disappointment to his father, though some years ago he had been forced to come to an understanding of sorts with the old man.

He thought for a moment. "From what I heard growing up, my mother never criticized my father, never said a word against him, never complained." He paused: Remembering himself as a very small child, standing silently by his mother's side at the front window, looking down the empty path. "I'm sure there were times when she was lonely. But there was no one else for her, ever. According to all family accounts, until the day she died, my mother simply adored my father, was absolutely devoted to him. And my father loved her, too. But he just couldn't stand being confined. Or maybe he was afraid of it, I never understood exactly, or tried very hard to, I admit, at least when I was young. I suppose he loved my mother, but being stuck in one spot didn't suit him."

After a moment, Rhaenn turned to the servo-robot and lifted the soup tureen from the tray; the little maid turned prettily and started away, out of the room.

"That's an interesting description of marriage," the scientist said, lifting the lid from the tureen and dipping in the ladle, pausing to look at him. "Confinement of that sort is something you've avoided as well. You don't believe being stuck in one spot would suit you, either. You're very much in your father's mold, aren't you?"

Rhaenn began deftly ladling out the soup; the aroma was incredibly savory. His stomach rumbled: He realized suddenly how hungry he was, as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"When I was younger I couldn't stand to think that I was in any way like my father," he said, with a smile. "Maybe you're right. But, as a matter of fact, none of the senior staff on the Enterprise are married. Our situation isn't exactly conducive toward it: We're never in one place for very long, for one thing. I suppose it's natural that, for people in Star Fleet, over time, your thinking in that area gets more and more geared away from the long-term and toward the short-term, which tends to lead into certain types of relationships that you know aren't going to be permanent." He laughed after a moment, consciously. "I'm afraid that was a little too honest."

Rhaenn shook his head, handing over the bowl filled with soup. "Not at all. I don't doubt you've enjoyed being single, William, there's no crime in that."

"I wouldn't put it that way, exactly," he replied. "I didn't plan it that way, and I'd have to say that always being on my own was not my expectation or my preference, but that's just the way it's turned out to be. There've definitely been times when I haven't liked being settled, or without a permanent partner in my life."

"Even so, you must have had your opportunities to marry, and chosen not to take them."

He looked up, his spoon poised. "Opportunities?" He took a bit of the soup on his spoon, tasted it. Oh, it was incredibly good! He couldn't remember having any better, ever. He put his spoon down, reluctantly, lifting his napkin to his mouth, replacing it in his lap before answering. "I can't say that there've been any of those sorts of opportunities, if I understand you correctly. It sounds cliché, I know, but ... The truth is, I haven't met the right woman yet, and I don't know if I ever will. Not that she'd be getting such a prize, don't get me wrong," he said, laughing.

Rhaenn shook his head. "No. It's no good being modest, William. You know your worth. You're a young, handsome man, a top officer on the premier starship in the Federation fleet. And you wouldn't be in your position if you weren't intelligent, responsible, resourceful, brave. You've traveled, you've seen and met, I dare say, hundreds of women in your travels. Surely among them, there've been more than a few who would've been eager to have you for a husband. But you've held out for, as you've said, the right woman."

Deanna: His thoughts turned immediately to her. Had she been the right one? Though he had been deeply committed to her and truly loved her, he had realized later, years after their breakup, that although they had agreed to marry, he had only convinced himself that he was ready. But, right before they were to meet on Risa where the ceremony was to take place, he had gotten his orders to report to the Potemkin. Deanna could have tried to track him down, she could have made him go through with the commitment. He had found out later that though she had been deeply hurt at the time, she had also been wise enough not to follow him, force him into a marriage she believed he had purposely avoided; and perhaps subconsciously, he had. In any case, since then, he hadn't come close to asking another woman. He never even thought about it anymore, had just accepted that he was alone sometimes, sometimes he wasn't. There'd been times when he had felt lonely, had yearned to meet someone to share himself with, the entirety of himself, life, heart, body, soul, times he had envied the men on board who went home to wives and children at the end of the day. But none of the women he'd ever met were his wife, he was certain he would have recognized her if he'd met her. Women were charming, pleasant company, sometimes a transitory pleasure, sometimes a little more than that. But to this point, nothing more permanent than that.

The little servo-robot was coming back into the room with a platter. He looked up: Both the Rhaenns were looking intently at him. Eric Rhaenn was nodding. "Have you been with the Enterprise long, William?"

"Seven years," he replied, taking another sip of his wine; sensing that the earlier subject was closed, as if they were satisfied on that point and had no more need to discuss it.

"Seven years," the scientist murmured. "That's quite a long tour, isn't it?"

He understood the underlying question: Why no promotion? "By choice. I've been offered a few commands, my own ships, but I've turned them down. The Enterprise is home. I haven't seen anything yet to tempt me away, nothing to equal her. I've been very lucky, and appreciative of my luck."

"But you don't stay just because it's a good berth," the scientist parried smoothly.

"A lot of reasons combined. The Enterprise is a superb ship, there's that. We couldn't carry out our mission without her. And the mission's been better than anything I could've asked for. It's like the old exploring ships, traveling to the ends of the ends of what's known. We've seen incredible sights, there've been unbelievable experiences, enough to fill an entire lifetime in just that short span of years. Of course, the entire crew's top-notch, absolutely the best. And we've been in some very tight spots and stuck together, so there's a trust factor there that's invaluable to what we do. We work well together, we support each other, and we like and respect each other. I couldn't begin to name all of the friends I've made on that ship." He almost mentioned the Captain again before remembering their earlier coldness to his name; his chance to learn at the Master's side for as long as he could was invaluable, he personally knew of dozens of officers who would have given anything for the chance to work with Jean-Luc Picard.

Rhaenn had taken the platter from the servo-robot, replaced it with their bowls. He noticed, then, that they hadn't eaten any soup; and he realized, too, that T'Prianne hadn't spoken in a while, only watched him, observing him while her husband spoke; or more correctly, questioned him. He didn't mind the questions; maybe it was still the effect of the colors, but he was feeling pretty good. And anyway, he had nothing to hide. And he liked these people. And he had a strong feeling they liked him, too.

Rhaenn looked at him. "And your colleagues like you," the scientist said. "And trust and respect you."

"Yes, I know they do," he replied; then, fearing he'd sounded immodest, he leaned forward. "You understand me: It's mutual."

The scientist nodded. "Of course, of course, there's no need to say so, William. You've stayed, because you're loyal to them, and to your ship."

"Loyal? Yes," he said, after a moment's reflection. "Yes, I am loyal."

"You took that from your mother. Loyalty. Loyalty, perhaps, even to a fault," Rhaenn said, watching him, he noticed, very closely.

He was surprised at the description. "Loyal to a fault? You mean has it gotten me in trouble? Well, I don't know." He laughed, wondering if it were true. "Yes, maybe, at times. I don't back out once I'm committed, at any rate."

His thoughts flashed again to Deanna Troi. Yes, he was extremely loyal once he was committed. Had things worked out differently, had he not gotten the orders he did at the time he did, he would have married her, and he would've done everything in his power to make her happy. But when their plans were thwarted, he was relieved, he couldn't deny it. He was glad to be going, off the planet, and back on a ship, going, just going, it didn't matter where: He'd been given back his freedom. When they were thrown unexpectedly together again on the Enterprise, it would have been easy as her superior officer to keep Deanna at arm's length, but he'd taken the opportunity to make things right between them, and now they were the best of friends, forever. Yes, he was loyal.

"Even when it's not easy," the scientist was saying, satisfaction evident in the tone, as though Rhaenn was pleased with his answer. The scientist lifted the cover from the platter in front of him, and a delicious aroma wafted into the air. His mouth watered. "That's quite commendable, William."

T'Prianne's eyes were settled on him, also, looking pleased as well, he thought, if he could decipher the slight loosening of the corners of her lovely mouth as pleasure.

On an impulse, he smiled at her. "Well, Doctor, if you're ready, I'd be quite interested in hearing your preliminary conclusions."

She was silent a moment, her beautiful eyes studying him. "Along with all your other attributes, you are astute, William."

"Yes, we have been studying you," Rhaenn agreed. "You should have been a scientist yourself, William, you've got the skills for it. But, no, like your father before you, you have a drive to succeed in the world, which in your case caused you to join Star Fleet. Well, that's all to the good. Prepares you for whatever life brings your way," the scientist murmured, looking suddenly a little somber. "Perhaps -" He raised his eyebrows a bit, leaning slightly forward. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us what you can deduce from our questions."

Surprising him back; he thought for a quick moment. "Well, judging from the questions, I'd guess that you've been interviewing me for a very important personal position. Have you decided? Am I acceptable as a member of the family? Or have I revealed too many character flaws? Perhaps I should disappear now, before dessert and introductions are made. In any case, I doubt if the young lady'd be interested in me," he said. He started to smile as the joke was revealed, but his laughter was dying on his lips - Rhaenn's and T'Prianne's intently gazing eyes killed his mirth, and for a moment there was a dead silence, as Rhaenn turned to look at his wife, and both scientists turned to look again at him. His heart sank: He realized, too late, that his attempt at a bit of humor was nothing more than an extremely poor joke, and at their daughter's expense, no less. How foolish of him, of course, he didn't know anything at all about their daughter, for all he knew she was already married, or a nun, or, or - any number of things. Maybe it was the induced golden glow he'd been in that made him feel there was a mutual understanding, a reciprocal intimacy established by their direct questions and his frank answers, which would allow for a certain friendly informality in his conduct. Stupid of him to think so! Judging from their reactions, he was wrong to have been so forward, and he was forming an embarrassed apology, clearing his throat ...

Lavender suddenly cascaded down the walls; he stopped moving, breathing, losing himself in the flowing river of color. Lavender, shading to a rich blue-violet ... the color of T'Prianne's eyes ... She was looking at him, a trace of warmth around the corners of her beautiful eyes, as if all were forgiven, or no, that wasn't it, exactly: Perfectly understood, with a depth and breadth of understanding he could never hope to reach. To be so well and thoroughly understood and entirely accepted, as though he had achieved a state of perfection just by simply being, something he'd rarely experienced before, made him feel happy, blissfully happy ...

Almost from a distance, he could hear Eric Rhaenn, who was looking over his shoulder, speaking to him; in his state of euphoria, he had to force himself to pay close attention. "Ah, here! William, I'd like you to meet our daughter, Anna Rhaenn. Anna, this is Commander William Riker of the Enterprise."

The room was brilliantly violet now, the curtains shimmering and floating, the mist around his feet glowing, the flute was soft and the flowers' exquisite scent enveloping him, as he was standing automatically, turning to greet the scientists' daughter.