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5. Learning from the Past
"Ah, reminiscing about the good old days?" Q asked as Trip began to walk down the corridor. "Tell me, have you made a decision about what you want to change?"
"Yes: nothing. I don't think it's a good idea to mess around with past decisions," Trip told him tartly.
"Oh, and I thought you were finally making some progress." Q stopped walking. Trip rounded a corner—and ran into Q again on the other side. "Finally finding some past regrets to fix."
"You mean T'Pol? Hell no, ending our relationship was the smartest thing I ever did. When it's over it's over, you have to let it go. I'm not changing that."
"Hmm." Q put a finger to his lips and furrowed his brow. "Back to the drawing board, then. You know, you seem to be having a very hard time with this."
"I'm having a hard time not strangling you," Trip growled. "Other than that I'm fine. And I'd like my uniform back."
"You'll be out of place when you try to communicate with—"
Trip scowled at the omnipotent being, who, despite his infinite powers and limitless intelligence, sighed. "Oh all right." He waved a hand and Trip found himself comfortably outfitted in his normal attire. "You know," Q continued, "I understand that when humans are troubled they sometimes seek advice from counselors. Maybe that's what you need."
Before he could protest Trip found himself inside a dimly lit room seated in a comfortable chair in a corner. Sitting several meters away at a desk was Deanna—these were apparently her quarters. Asteroids flew serenely past the windows as she worked quietly. Her comm beeped and voice identifying itself as Data floated into the room.
This was going too far—Trip started to rise to leave as she conversed with her colleague when the door chimed.
"Come in," Counselor Troi called.
The door opened to reveal a distraught Will Riker. "I know it's past office hours," he began bluntly. Obviously this was not a personal call. Trip sidled past Riker to get to the door, wondering how exactly he was going to get through it without calling attention to himself.
"What is it?" asked Troi, immediately concerned. Trip thought again of their exchange in the lift and of Deanna and Worf in Ten-Forward. Something just wasn't right there.
""It won't be long before they find the Pegasus," Will told her.
"You haven't made your decision." It wasn't a question, but a statement with certainty. She gestured to him to sit down and he complied. "The holodeck?"
"They rescued the Andorian's daughter."
Andorians? Trip wondered. The only Andorian he knew was Shran, but they couldn't possibly be talking about the contentious blue swashbuckler he knew in the 22nd century. It was quite a coincidence, though—they had just rescued Shran's daughter before Trip's death. He supposed Riker must mean a shipmate or friend—it was kind of comforting to think that in the future Andorians and humans would still be getting along.
"So you're coming to the moment of truth in there as well," Troi nodded.
Trip turned to the door, trying to tune them out as he worked on getting through it inconspicuously, but the engineer's attention was caught at the words "Romulan" and "cloaking technology."
Riker was talking about some treaty the Federation had signed with the Romulans stating that the Federation would not develop cloaking technology. Trip didn't really know what that meant, but cloaking technology sounded pretty interesting. Oh, what Malcolm would do with a cloaked ship…but Riker seemed torn up over this treaty.
"The Pegasus?" Troi asked, incredulous.
Riker went on to explain that this particular ship contained a prototype cloaking device and that someone named Pressman had developed this illegally (or semi-legally) and then somehow…lost it!…after the tests on it killed 71 crewmembers aboard the Pegasus. Apparently Riker had been on the ship at the time, a young Starfleet officer. Now both the Federation and the Romulans were looking for it—and Riker was unsure what to tell his current senior officer.
"Tell him the truth!" Trip wanted to shout at the larger man. How hard was that? The choice between an unethical order and the lives of your crew as well as diplomatic relations with other species—that should be pretty easy. But Riker was having trouble with it, for some reason.
"You didn't get this far in your career making easy decisions. I'm confident you'll make the right one now," Troi told him comfortingly.
Riker looked uncertain but as he left Deanna's quarters. Seizing his opportunity for escape, Trip followed.
Of all the things I have witnessed in this strange new reality, this has got to be the creepiest.
After Riker left Deanna's quarters I thought he would be heading off to bed himself—I thought it might be useful to know where to find him later, so I tagged along. Where he went instead…
It looked like an ordinary room—kinda dull with its black walls and yellow grid pattern—but it's really some kind of holographic generator. The holodeck, I remember Troi calling it. WhenI met theXyrillians and Ah'Len(how could I forget that, considering the trouble I got myself into), they had some technology like this, but nothing this sophisticated. Riker is actually becoming part of the story himself, and everyone in it, though artificially generated, is interacting with him…as he prepares dinner in the galley of the NX-01.
I feel so out of place and so at home at the same time that I barely notice what he's actually talking to my friends—or representations of my friends—about. He's asking them about me.
Malcolm (his hologram is shorter than Mal is, I think) is telling him that he thought I was a hick! Thanks a lot, Mal! Then again, it is only a program. How can this computer possibly know what Malcolm really thought about me? I suddenly hope he didn't write some terrible tell-all book about his time on the ship…but I somehow doubt it. No, the computer must be making this up. Although Hoshi's hologram indicates she finds me "cute"—that's not so bad.
I'm beginning to find it easier to see these people as representations and not my real friends as I notice small glitches, subtle nuances that the computer has obviously tried to fill in due to inadequate data. Travis is too chatty—and how does he know about the scuba-diving? Phlox tells Riker about the time he ordered me to get six hours of sleep and I talked him down to four—and tells Riker about me and T'Pol! The real Phlox would never have talked so openly about my relationship with her. Then there's the whole setup of this scenario—Chef would never let all these people traipse through his kitchen. He's a nice guy and all, but veeeery protective of his galley. Hoshi's complained about it on more than one occasion (she even asked me once about installing a cooker in her quarters).
It's surreal, watching this. I'm starting to wonder just what the hell Riker is doing in here. Why is he so interested in me? And why, if he has a weighty decision to make, is he hanging out here pretending to be the chef?
I don't have time to ponder this too much as Riker seems to have decided he's got all the answers he need from my "crewmates."
"Computer, objective mode," he says to no one in particular. The chef's uniform he's wearing fades away and he is back in his normal clothing. Now where are we off to? I wonder.
I don't have long to wait…and I suddenly know where we are and why Riker's asking about me.
He stands in a corner, watching Captain Archer and I as we toast the journey humanity's about to embark on and the one that's coming to an end. I remember this, of course. I have about 10 more minutes to live.
I feel oddly disembodied from what I'm watching. I know this is a recreation of my death, but it isn't playing out entirely as I remember it. It's faster, more disjointed, and I don't remember being that jumpy and nervous. Of course, everything that came after it is new to me, as I don't remember much about this at all. I just recall the pain, especially in my lungs, and talking to Jonathan about his speech.
We watch in the sickbay as I die. The doctor is beside himself and Jonathan can hardly speak. He leaves the room in a daze, walking unsteadily. I want to follow him and tell him that I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't think it through more clearly—but I did it to save him.
The strangest thing about all of this is how anti-climactic my death feels. Riker and I watch as T'Pol cleans out my room…I hope this is accurate because I can't imagine anyone else going through my personal things, even Captain Archer. I find this very comforting, though she obviously does not.
She's more emotional than I've seen her in years; she tells the captain that she wants to meet my parents. Huh? Stupid program—she met them at Elizabeth's memorial service six years ago. They loved her—my mother asked after her for months afterwards. But this T'Pol says she's never met them and wants to.
I'm struck once again at how beautiful she is, and not just physically. It took me a long time to see that T'Pol was not unemotional at all, she was a complex, ever-changing canvas of emotional control and release. She never failed to surprise me and I realize with a rush how much I really did lose when we stopped seeing each other. This program better be inaccurate, because if she really was this emotional over my death then ending our relationship was for naught.
Riker watches this personal scene impassively and I want to hit him. I know he's an okay guy and this isn't his fault, but it feels like voyeurism. He's prying on T'Pol now and I don't like it. But he doesn't know I'm here and these holoprojections can't really tell him how they feel…which gives me an idea.
Before leaving, Riker stops and thinks for a moment, then orders the computer to recreate the galley again. Before he can make another request I decide it's time Riker and I had some one-on-one.
He looks surprised when I stroll across the galley, but adjusts quickly. After all, this is an NX-01 program and I'm part of the crew, right? The very part he's investigating, as a matter of fact--he probably thinks the computer is anticipating his wishes in the program.
His premise has been that he's asking us what we want for our last meal on Enterprise. Appropriate, since it seems I am a condemned man. "Fried catfish with hush puppies," I tell him. Chef does know it's my favorite, but I don't know if that was ever recorded somewhere.
I keep up the conversation about food for a while, speculating what the captain and T'Pol have chosen for their meals. He mentions that we're on our way to pick up Shran, so I play along with that too.
"Don't you think that Captain's cutting it a little close?" Riker asks, raising his eyebrows to egg me on.
"Getting back to San Francisco? He won't let anything get in the way of that." Don't I know it. But I'm afraid Riker will misinterpret my meaning, so I explain as I munch on a holographic carrot (tastes pretty good, actually). "He'd never admit it but this thing means a hell of a lot to him. He's real proud to be one of the people signing this charter...and...he ought to be."
Riker laughs it off. "You sound like a lifetime member of the Jonathan Archer fan club."
"I can count on one hand the number of people I trust. I don't mean trust like 'I trust you aren't lying to me' or 'I trust you won't steal my money.' I'm talking about the kind of trust where you know someone's not going to hurt you, no matter what. You know they'll always be there for you, no matter how bad things get." I realize I'm saying now, to this man in the future who doesn't know who I am or even that I'm actually here, all the things I wish I'd said to Jonathan after the explosion. I wanted him to know that if there was fault in what happened it wasn't him or me or anyone. It was circumstance. But I also realize that this isn't about me right now. Maybe this is what Q was talking about, changing something. Maybe someone can learn from what happened in the past--and I don't just mean Riker's old ship the Pegasus. I squint at the man dressed as chef and smile. "Ever know anybody like that?" I ask.
He looks distant for a moment. "Yes, one or two."
Seeing my chance, I grab it. "Oh yeah? What's her name?"
"What?" Riker laughs.
"We all have people we're loyal to, captains we serve—metaphorically speaking—but a look like the one you just had on your face…that's a woman."
The commander busies himself with the breading for the catfish. "Well…" I can see he's weighing it. The temptation to speak to a holographic character, someone who could never tell your secrets—hell, you could reprogram it or delete it!—is overwhelming. "When I have a problem…when I really need someone to trust…I have a friend I talk to. Her name's Deanna."
Bingo! "Deanna. Don't think I've ever heard you mention her before. But it's good to have someone you can really count on, isn't it?"
"Can I ask you something?" Riker looks up from his mixing bowl.
What have you been doing? I want to ask back but don't. "Sure."
"When you and T'Pol broke up, did you still…count on her?"
"Ummm…" What I really want to do at this very moment is find whoever programmed this holodeck and ring their necks. No one, and I mean no one, knew what really happened between T'Pol and I when we ended our relationship—yet in here it seems to be common knowledge! Oh well. "Well, yes. Yes—we still depended on each other quite a lot. You know that list of people I trust I was talking about earlier? She's on it, right around the top. Why do you ask?"
"Deanna and I, we used to be…"
"Intimate?" I ask innocently.
Riker's eyebrows shoot up but he just nods. "But now…"
"It's over," I supply.
"Yes. Not that I'm upset about that—this was years ago—but I still rely on her so much. We developed this comfortable pattern, you know…of friendship and trust. We still have this bond between us."
I know the feeling, buddy. "What's the problem then?"
"I don't know why I'm talking about this with you," he mutters into the piecrust he's taken out of the stasis unit.
"I'm the only one here," I joke. "C'mon, go on."
"She's…started seeing someone." Yes, I've seen him. Kinda tough not to. "It's not that I begrudge her that, it's just that…it's a change in routine, you know. I don't want to lose that."
"You don't want to lose your bond," I state. I still feel really weird about this, but if Riker can get some things off my chest maybe I can too. "I know how you feel. It was hard at first, being around T'Pol all the time, but then we fell into our own pattern. It wasn't a romantic relationship, but I always knew she was there. We have a…bond too, you know."
Riker stops fiddling and looks at me with surprise. I continue. "It never really went away. We stopped using it and it kinda fell dormant, but it's still there. Getting ready to leave this ship was—er, is the change in our pattern, and I have to admit it scares me. The truth is…" and it hits me. It really hits me, the truth about me and T'Pol. Here, when it's too late and all is said and done and I know that things could never be different, I finally understand what really happened between us.
"Yes," Riker prompts. "The truth is…what?"
"The truth is we never let go of one another. Not really. We just let go of the part of our relationship that could cause us the most pain."
Riker looks confused. Apparently holopeople don't normally start waxing poetic about the truth of their own existences very often, but I'm on a roll now.
"So we've been living out half a relationship all this time on Enterprise." And it's true—how stupid have I been all this time? I never dated—I was always "too busy." T'Pol never attempted to get close to the crew again, she rarely even sought counsel from the captain or Phlox. We never ended or fixed what was really the problem, we just carried on as though the way things were…was the way they would be forever. I was so adamant when I told her we wouldn't lose touch because I knew that no matter what, we would always be attached to one another.
"So…you think you should have stayed together?" he asks.
I don't know the answer to that one. Should we have? "Should you and Deanna?" I ask right back. We're silent as we contemplate these questions and their possible answers. I'm still thinking on it when Riker asks the computer to end the program and marches out of the holodeck, brow furrowed.
Judging from recent experience, right about now I should expect…
"Fun, isn't it?" Q asked the engineer standing in the middle of the empty holodeck.
"You're becoming predictable," Trip said, not turning.
"Really? Transporting you to the future, showing you the next generation of intrepid Enterprise explorers—this was something you expected in the afterlife?"
"Thought you said I wasn't dead. Several times, in fact."
"You may as well be, the rate you're going with all of this." Q vanished, leaving Trip to grimly cross his arms and think uncharitable thoughts about the nature of life after death. Seconds later Q reappeared. "Are you coming?" he asked casually.
"Now listen—" Trip began, but was cut short when he realized he wasn't in the holodeck anymore.
"Ah, the bridge—the heart and soul of your precious starships. How does it compare to your Enterprise."
The two now stood in the center of the bridge, between the helm and the ops consoles. Riker, Picard, and the admiral he'd seen earlier were all poised motionless in poses ranging from defensive to aggressive. There was obviously some kind of confrontation going on here that Q had put on hold. Deanna was nowhere to be seen, but Mr. Worf towered at what Trip assumed must be his tactical station.
The engineer in Trip couldn't help but answer. "Well, it's certainly bigger, comfier…I'm not sure how I feel about that. It's almost to spacious; doesn't seem like it would be to useful in a firefight, and we've certainly had plenty of—hey!"
Q had maneuvered himself into Captain Picard's chair and was lounging comfortably. "Yes?"
"What did you say the name of this ship was?"
"Why, it's the Enterprise, of course."
"Another Enterprise…" Trip muttered. He caught sight of a plaque hanging off to the side of the bridge and approached it. "NCC-1701D," he read, shaking his head. "Enterprise."
Q shrugged. "It seemed appropriate."
"What's happening to them?" Trip asked, gesturing dazedly to Riker, Picard, and Pressman.
"Oh them. Right." He snapped his fingers and everything jump-started, the scene that had been frozen now alive. "Enjoy!" he said before snuffing into oblivion once again.