The night before
Not long after Carmen went to bed, she heard Namida tip-toe across the room. The girl climbed up onto the mattress and dropped down beside her. Can we go to your nana's house tonight? I want to see that big window again, the one next to the fireplace.
Carmen smiled. It's my favorite window, too. Close your eyes.
Giddy with anticipation, Namida shut her eyes tightly. Carmen watched her for a moment, still smiling, and then closed her eyes as well. First she had to clear her mind, pushing aside all the clutter of her thoughts. She could feel Namida's excitement hovering in the empty space.
Ready?
I'm ready.
One by one, Carmen pulled up the walls of her grandmother's lakehouse. She filled them in with color, with picture frames, with every little detail that made it feel like home. The dried garlands strung around the doorway. The stack of old Westerns next to the armchair. Her father's muddy boots drying on the hearth.
Namida walked up to the window and pressed her palms against the glass. Carmen stood beside her, taking in the early morning view. Clouds hung low and gray over the lake. A white mist crept between the hills. A bird called out, and somewhere across the water, another bird answered. Other than the surface of the lake, which rippled in a sharp breeze, nothing moved within their sight. The morning seemed to be holding its breath. Waiting for something.
"It's about to rain," Carmen said, eyeing the ceiling of clouds. "The rain always sounds like music from here. And the endra flowers-those white ones down by the water-watch what happens to them."
Namida looked on, fascinated, as the clouds broke with a gentle rumble and rain poured across the lake, the treetops, the wooded hills. Droplets fell against the window with a tat-tat-tat. More rain fell in an empty planter on the porch with a gong-dong-gong. Some fell in the soft dirt, some on the wooden stairs, some on the vines that grew up the side of the house.
"It is music!" Namida cried, listening to all the different sounds that water could make just by falling from the sky.
"And see the endra flowers?" Carmen pointed out.
Each drop of water left a colorful streak where it landed, like the strokes of an artist's brush. Namida gasped. "They're turning blue! Pink! Silver!"
"Look at those purple ones there."
"And gold, too!"
The raindrops continued to paint the delicate petals almost every color imaginable. Enthralling as it was, the sight left a lump in Carmen's throat. She cast a glance, quick and longing, at the pair of muddy boots by the fireplace.
It had rained the morning after Billy was born, and her father had woken her up to tell her about the endra flowers. They snuck out of the house together, made their way down to the shore, and collected a colorful bouquet to present to her mother at breakfast. While Mr. Homn wasn't happy about the muddy footprints they tracked into the kitchen, it was worth it to see Troi fawn over her flowers.
"Look how gorgeous those red ones are," someone said. Carmen jumped. She whirled to find the armchair suddenly occupied. A woman had joined their midst, her glittery green dress flowing to the floor and a hot cup of tea on her lap.
Whenever she took Namida to the city, or even down to the beach, Carmen would conjure up people as part of the scenery. They were merely figments of her imagination, wandering the reaches of her memory with generic faces and meaningless smiles. There was nothing generic about this new face, however. The woman did not merely sit in the chair; she took possession of the space, filling the room with her unapologetic presence. She looked back at Carmen with a smile that was somehow cunning and kind at the same time.
Namida pulled herself away from the window, hiding shyly behind her friend. "Is that your grandmother?" she asked.
"I certainly am," the woman replied. Her hand made a dramatic flourish in the air. "My name is Lwaxana Troi, daughter of the Fifth House, holder of the sacred chalice of Rixx, and heir to the holy rings of Betazed."
Namida stepped halfway out. "I like your dress. It's very shiny."
"Well at least somebody appreciates Betazoid high fashion," Lwaxana said, brushing a spot on her gown as though she were polishing a gem. "It's impossible to get my granddaughter to wear one of these."
Carmen shook her head incredulously. "What are you doing here, nana? It must be my fault somehow. Some...repressed guilt I'm experiencing for leaving you on the other side." She paused and her nose wrinkled briefly. "Baka, what's happening to me? I keep sounding like my mother."
"This isn't your doing, Brights Eyes," Lwaxana said. "I am here because I am here. Simple as that."
"What do you mean?"
"We're all here. We've come to take you home-"
"No." Carmen stopped her short, holding up a hand. "Just...never mind."
She closed her eyes, trying to banish the image of her grandmother. Trying to make the chair empty again. Trying to forget what Lwaxana was saying before she cut her off. Finally, when the gentle pattering of rain faded into silence, she cracked one eye open. She was back in her room aboard the USS Ranger.
Little snores drifted through the dark, coming from the sleepy piles of children that surrounded her bed. The ship's engines hummed through the walls. Her grandmother's lakehouse and her shiny green dress and her knowing smile all receded to the back of her mind.
From beside her, Namida opened her eyes. Her brow wrinkled in concern as she stared at her friend. What's wrong?
"It wasn't her," Carmen said aloud, as if to make it sound more convincing. "It was just...wishful thinking. I'm sorry, Namida. No more for tonight."
The girl wriggled closer, tucking herself under Carmen's arm. Let's play targ tag in the morning, okay?
Carmen sighed, pretending to be tired and annoyed even though she was grateful for the change of subject. Alright, alright. But only if someone else is the targ this time.
She could feel Namida's smile brush against the edges of her mind. Deal.
It had taken the IKS Kahlorn nearly a week to pick up Carmen's signal, and then another week to track down the USS Ranger. By then, tempers had frayed and hope had grown weary. They all found themselves anxious to be back among their own stars, back to the way things were.
Sheppard spoke very little, though a glimpse of something old and gentle would return when he visited with Billy and Troi. The counselor kept fairly to herself as well, knowing that her mind was still dangerously delicate. She felt an echo of the Borg's violations every time she tried to open her thoughts, though it did not stop her from trying to reach for Carmen once in awhile.
Kyle worked hard to keep up morale, and though his clumsy attempts often went unnoticed (or unappreciated), Riker marveled at his father's perseverance. He'd stop by Kyle's quarters after everyone else went to bed, making some excuse about not being able to sleep, and they'd swap stories until an ungodly hour.
And then one morning, as most of the crew was still sleeping, the ship they had been pursuing came into range. It was a Federation ship, large and heavily armed. They didn't take kindly to the Kahlorn's barrelling approach.
"This is Commander Hale of the USS Ranger. I order you to halt where you are," came a voice over the open channel.
The Klingon captain snarled in reply. "Nobody orders me around like that! I am T'argon of the House of-"
Lwaxana slapped his shoulder peevishly. "Bring the ship to a stop, dear."
"You heard her, stop the ship!" he barked.
A man appeared on their viewscreen once they came to a full stop. His sand-colored hair had faded to white around his temples, showing his age like the deep-set lines around his eyes. He sat forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he studied them shrewdly.
"Greetings," he hailed, a dispassionate formality that he did away with as soon as he could. "Now what is it you want?"
"We are looking for a child," T'argon growled. "A warrior of her people. Carmen Riker, daughter of the Fifth House and granddaughter to Lwaxana Troi. Do you have her or not?"
Another member of the bridge looked up at the sound of Carmen's name. He glanced at the commander uneasily, but if Hale noticed then he did not show it. His face remained as indifferent as a brick wall. "How did you find us?" he asked, eluding T'argon's question with one of his own.
Riker balled his fists together impatiently. "She had an emergency beacon on her. We've tracked her signal to your ship, now please..." He trailed off before his voice could break. "Let me speak with her."
"That isn't up to me." Hale leaned back in his chair, slinging one of his ankles across the opposite knee.
"Then let me speak with your captain!" Riker bellowed.
Leaning back even further, Hale rubbed a hand through his beard slowly, thoughtfully. Riker seethed as the seconds dragged by. It was a power play, and they both knew it. But if his daughter was on that ship, then Riker had to pick his battles wisely.
"Very well," Hale said at length. "I will page her. Stand by."
The screen returned to a view of the foreign ship. Troi stepped forward, trying to see past its armored sides that stood like a barricade between her and her daughter. "What is it?" Riker asked, touching her on the arm. "Is she in there?"
Troi turned around to find Lwaxana watching them both. "Mother?" she asked, afraid of what she might find. Or not find.
"Yes, Little One. She is in there," Lwaxana replied. "In fact, I spoke with her last night."
Riker's head whipped towards the helm. "You did? What did she say? Is she alright?"
The screen blinked back to life before Lwaxana could answer. Riker didn't want to turn and look, but when he heard his wife gasp, his gaze automatically returned to the screen.
Beverly Crusher stared back at them from the USS Ranger. There was no doubt it was her; and yet, it couldn't be her. They had left her behind on the Enterprise only two weeks ago.
Beverly seemed even more shocked and disturbed. Her face turned white as a ghost. Her lips parted, but were unable to make a sound.
"Beverly?"
Riker's voice seemed to bring her out of her stupor. She swallowed, licked her lips, and then pulled her shoulders back. "Yes, I am Captain Beverly Crusher. What...how…"
"Please, Beverly," Troi pleaded. "We've come a long way, and I just...I need to see her again."
Hale stepped to his captain's side, whispering something in her ear. Riker's eyes narrowed. He drew in a breath, ready to make another protest (or even a threat, if necessary), but as Hale finished, Beverly shook her head at him and smiled. "It's alright, Trevor. They aren't here for their soldier. They're here for their daughter."
Troi clutched Riker's hand and gave it a hopeful squeeze. "You'll let us speak with her?"
"Just wait right there!" Beverly called, hurrying off-screen. "We'll beam you aboard as soon as we can!"
A small transporter room came into view as Riker's vision returned to normal. He saw a tall, thin man standing at the controls. Beside him, waiting eagerly, stood Beverly Crusher.
She drew in a sharp breath, looking them both over thoroughly. "I can't believe...is it really you?"
Troi stepped down from the platform first. As she approached the other woman, Beverly started to reach for her face, then stopped herself short.
"Yes, we are here," Troi said, taking hold of her hand. Beverly made a soft gasp at the touch, almost as though she had expected her hand to go right through.
Riker looked around the room for their daughter. There was something unsettling about how she had not come to greet them.
"Where is she, Beverly?" he asked. "Where's our daughter?"
Beverly glanced around. She seemed just as surprised to find the young woman missing. "Oh, I...I'm not sure. Come on, she can't be far." She pulled on Troi's hand, leading the way, and took them into a corridor with smooth, gray tiles across the floor. Paintings of Earth hung on the wall at intervals, separated by circular windows.
All of this barely registered in the commander's mind. "How is she?" he pressed. "Is she okay?"
"We found her just in time. I couldn't believe it, you know." Beverly looked away when she realized she had been staring at the commander. "Sorry. I guess I still can't believe it."
"But is she okay?"
Her eyes drifted back to Riker. She slowed down until they were side by side. "You always did worry about that-if she'd be okay. All those times you got called off the bridge, all those times she was kicked out of school…it's like no matter what we tried, we couldn't seem to 'cultivate her into an upstanding citizen,' as Mrs. Gleaves put it. But seeing her now…" Beverly wiped the corner of her eye with a smile. "She's okay, Will. She really is."
Another tear took the place of the one she had just wiped away. Troi pulled her in for a hug, rubbing her back with a soothing hand as more and more tears slipped down her cheek. Beverly held fast as waves of emotion, ripples of the years past, washed over them both.
"I forgot how good it is to have a counselor aboard," she laughed, turning to Riker next and standing on the tips of her toes to embrace him warmly. "And don't be mad with Commander Hale. He was just trying to protect Carmen."
"Protect her from what?" Riker asked.
"Some people think that a soldier belongs in war, child or not," Beverly answered. "We've had to-"
A horrible squealing noise interrupted the captain, followed by two blood-curdling screams. Riker spun around defensively. "What in the name of-!"
A couple of young boys burst around the corner. Riker barely jumped out of the way in time as they bolted past, shouting warnings over their shoulders.
"Watch out!"
"They're right behind us!"
Two more children turned the corner, a boy and a girl. They lumbered along on all fours, making rabid screeches and squeals at the top of their lungs. Beverly scooted closer to the wall to make room. She didn't seem alarmed in the least. In fact, she looked almost relieved.
"Ah, that's it."
Riker exchanged a puzzled look with his wife, confused as to how the strange scene cleared anything up. "That's what?"
"That explains where Carmen went. Come on." She took off after them, hurrying to keep up with the ungodly sounds.
"But-wait! What was that all about?" Riker asked.
"Targ tag," Beverly said, grinning. "It's a little game Carmen taught them."
"Carmen taught them that?"
"See, some of the kids...they've been soldiers for so long, it's like they've forgotten how to be a kid." Her grin grew a little wider. "But Carmen's been helping to remind them."
As they neared the end of the next corridor, Riker could see that it opened into a vast chamber, where a circular platform surrounded a lower level. A crew of engineers worked at stations along the wall, paying no mind to the herd of screaming children that raced underfoot.
"Carmen!" a boy shouted from below. "Over here, Carmen!"
Riker's heart gave a thump. He jogged to the edge of the platform, squinting as he scanned the sea of faces. Troi came to his side, grabbing hold of his arm.
The boy who had shouted her name stood helplessly atop a console, surrounded by children pretending to be targs. They snarled and pawed at him, just barely out of reach. Some of the snarls intensified as a figure leapt up onto the console opposite the boy. Riker grinned, sinking against the railing with relief. "There she is," he said, giving Troi a nudge.
"Come on!" Carmen urged. "Jump!"
The targ children started to climb up after the boy, leaving him no time to consider an alternative. With a cry of exertion, he launched himself over their heads. There was something strange about the way the boy moved-the way that all the children moved, in fact. Riker realized that it was because they did not move like children; they moved with a deftness and agility beyond their age, with all the training that had been instilled in them as soldiers. Even Carmen's training began to show as she caught the boy and then nimbly leapt to the next console, and the next, until they were within reach of a ladder.
"Go!" she ordered, setting him down in front of the rungs. "I'm going back for Ayleen!"
She turned to face the hoard of targs bearing down on her. A lopsided smile crossed her face as she bent over her knees, pretending to stop and catch a breath. But Riker could see a mischievous glint in her eyes. She wasn't tired at all.
His own lopsided smile turned bittersweet, for he could also see what Beverly had been trying to tell him. All this time, he thought Carmen would be lost without them. That she'd revert back to the lonely and troubled soul they had first found. Yet here she was in the midst of a childish game, far from lost or alone. "She's okay," he mused aloud. "She really is."
Carmen straightened as the children closed in on her. Just before the nearest one could reach out and touch her, she leapt onto a ladder rung and pushed off, sailing right over their heads. She landed with a laugh, taking off as they scrambled to turn around and continue the chase.
Suddenly Carmen came to jolting stop. Her feet lagged a second behind, stumbling mindlessly as though her entire body had gone numb. She touched her chest, and slowly, her face turned up towards them.
Just as she locked eyes with Riker, the children caught up with her. They knocked her to the ground, clambering over the young woman with victorious whoops and cries. From Riker's side, Beverly laughed heartily. "I'm sorry Will, but you're too late. Carmen's been turned into a targ!"
Grinning, Riker swung himself over the edge and descended down the nearest ladder. The children fell silent, moving out of the way to give this new stranger a wide berth. One by one they climbed off Carmen, who lay on her back at the bottom of the pile.
Riker approached with his hand held out. "Need some help?" he quipped. She lifted onto her elbows, mouth agape as she stared up at her father. He waited patiently for the surprise to wear off, for the joyful cry of recognition. But instead, she shrank away from his outstretched hand.
"Carmen?" he prompted. Her reaction stung him deeply, but he tried not to let it show. "It's me, sweetheart. What's the matter?"
She pulled her legs up under her, coming to a crouched position. "You're him…" she said. "But is it you?"
Then he understood her hesitation. As far as she knew, everyone aboard the Enterprise had been killed. She had lost her father twice now; how many more times would she keep finding him, only to keep losing him?
Riker dug something out of his jacket. When he extended his hand again, a small, blue rock sat in the middle of his palm. "Here," he offered. "You forgot this."
Tears filled her eyes. Her chest heaved for breath and she slumped back to the floor with a strange sobbing that sounded like laughter. Riker knelt beside her, gently gathering her into his arms.
"I don't understand," she said, nuzzling into the embrace. "Leyton said you were dead. I was so sure he was telling the truth."
"It's President Jaresh who told the lie," Riker explained. "He made the report that said the Enterprise was destroyed. It was all to throw Leyton off the trail. We didn't think about...we didn't realize...I'm so sorry, Carmen."
He held her close, cupping the side of her face against his chest as she wept relentlessly. Someone else approached, crouching beside the young woman and combing her fingers through her long, dark hair.
Carmen lifted her head. She knew that hand, that tender touch, that gentle mind that was surrounding her like a blanket. "Mom? MOM!"
She flung herself at the counselor, wrapping her arms around her as tightly as she could. Riker scooped them both up, burying Carmen somewhere in the middle. She sank into their love, into those arms that felt like home. I love you, mom. I love you, dad.
They pulled away from each other just enough to look down at her. Riker smiled at his wife and then kissed the top of their daughter's head. "We love you, too, Carmen."
As the family basked in their reunion, Beverly quietly ushered the children out of Engineering. Namida lingered behind, leaning against Beverly's legs while she waited. "Captain Crusher? Is Carmen going to leave?"
Beverly looked down in surprise. It was rare for the child to speak aloud. Her eyes, big and dark, were searching Beverly's mind for the answer before she could even form a reply. "Yes, Namida. It's time for Carmen to go home."
"But I don't want her to go," she said. Her cheeks flushed with color as a fat tear rolled away from her eye. "Carmen is my friend."
"Namida?"
Carmen hopped over the top of the ladder. Her mother was right behind her, followed by her father. From out of the shadows, the children reappeared. They whispered amongst themselves as Namida bolted over to the young woman and crashed against her knees with a hug.
"Hey, hey," Carmen crooned, prying her away and crouching to the girl's level. "You'll be alright. Did Beverly tell you there's a whole village of Betazoids on Haven One?"
Namida shook her head with a sniffle.
"Well it's true. And you can show them all the things that I showed you. The jungles, the waterfalls, the moons...show them everything, okay?"
A spindly little boy stepped forward, fidgeting with the pockets of his tunic. "What else is on Haven One? Are there animals?"
Beverly picked him up, bouncing the boy against her hip. "There's lots of animals, Josiah. And big blue skies. Big bright cities. You'll love it there."
"See?" Carmen said, gently pulling on one of Namida's curls and then watching it bounce back into place. "We're all going home."
"But do you have to leave right now?" Namida whined. "We haven't even finished our game yet!"
Carmen wavered, staring up at her parents with an imploring grin. "Well...what do you say?"
The children all turned pleading eyes towards Riker and Troi. A few of them even whispered urgently under their breath, bouncing on the balls of their feet. "What kind of a game is it?" Riker inquired.
"It's targ tag," Josiah said matter-of-factly. "One person starts out as the targ, and whoever he tags becomes a targ, too, until there's nobody left!"
Riker puffed out an indecisive breath. Troi giggled, for she knew he had already made up his mind. "I don't know, kids," he said. "I feel kind of...I feel sort of like...like a targ!"
With a roar, he dropped down on all fours. The children shrieked, tripping over one another to make their escape. Carmen tossed Namida over her shoulder, following close behind with shouts of, "Go! Go! Go!" Riker lumbered after them, every roar eliciting a new round of screams.
"Well," Troi said, clasping her hands together in the quiet that followed. "How about a cup of tea?"
A devious smile tugged at Beverly's lips. "I can do better than that. How would you like a glass of wine? Real wine. No synthehol allowed on my ship."
Troi laughed, looping her arm through the captain's. "Beverly...you really are a lifesaver."