He very definitely did. Much as he’d done more than a year ago back on Earth, he made his way to the nearest shuttle port. Security was tight because of all the military activity at The End, but it was nothing that some carefully applied bribery couldn’t overcome. He wound up booking passage on the next departure from the planet—traveling, in fact, with the families of some of Cyre’s richest inhabitants, being sent off-world until things calmed down there. That ship took him to an orbital spaceport where he was able, after a couple of days’ wait, to find a berth on a passenger and trading ship headed for Tau Ceti. From there, he knew, he could catch a ride back to Earth.
The journey had taken weeks, and put Kyle back in the uncomfortable position of having to tell a brand new set of lies to everyone he met. But his return, he knew, probably wouldn’t be quite as discreet as his departure had been. He was pretty sure that enough time had passed that Starfleet Security wouldn’t be combing every incoming ship for him, and that his fake identification was good enough to get him back to San Francisco safely. From there, though, he’d have to come up with a new plan—he couldn’t afford to believe that whatever plot had forced him away had simply collapsed on its own. But he had also come to understand that working out his troubles from such a great distance just wasn’t going to be effective.
He had combed through all the records on his padd. He had examined every interaction he could remember ever having had with another individual—and that had been painful indeed, at times. He had even recalled as much as he could about his family’s history, in case this was some ancient grudge rearing its head. None of that had proven particularly helpful. Kyle came from a long line of soldiers, all of whom, by definition, had enemies. He also came from a long line, he realized, of taciturn men who kept their own confidences. Riker men weren’t the type to share their feelings or their fears with others. If any of them had made an enemy who hated them enough to chase down their descendants, they would have tried to battle it themselves, but they would not have talked about it.
As a result, Kyle had come up empty, and he felt that emptiness tug at him with new urgency. Earth blossomed below, closer with every passing minute. As it did, he felt his stomach tighten with anxiety. He had, for a long while, escaped his problems, even though he had found new ones along the journey. But now he was returning to the root of it all, no better off than he had been before.
With one exception. Now, he felt ready to face it. No more Tholian flashbacks, no post-traumatic stress disorder, no more physical or mental weakness relating to Starbase 311. He was as fit as he’d ever been. He was still in mourning over Michelle, but that just made him madder, sharpened his edge. Kyle Riker was walking into unknown trouble, but he would be ready for it when it came.
Chapter 30
Captain Erik Pressman cut a commanding figure on the bridge of his ship, the U.S.S. Pegasus.Will realized that it might have just been because he was still feeling slightly awed by even being on board a starship—being posted to a starship as an officer, that was, rather than simply visiting as a cadet. But the captain seemed to feel so comfortable there. He gave the impression of a man who knew his way around the ship, and his crew was appropriately deferential to him. The man stood straight and though he was not a conventionally handsome man, he radiated command and authority. His uniform hung nicely on his slender but powerful frame. He had a broad, gleaming forehead, and his mouth and jaw were set and determined. All in all, he looked every bit the military man that Will had hoped to serve under.
Pressman was standing behind the captain’s chair looking toward the turbolift doors when Will, in the company of First Officer Barry Chamish, stepped onto the bridge of the Pegasusfor the first time. He looked at Will appraisingly, just the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his wide mouth.
“Captain Pressman,” Commander Chamish said, “I’d like to introduce your new helm officer. This is Ensign William T. Riker.”
Will saluted. Captain Pressman returned the salute, and then extended his hand. Will stepped forward and took it. “Welcome aboard, Ensign,” the captain said, shaking Will’s hand firmly and then releasing it. “Outstanding Academy record. I look forward to having you on the team.”
“I look forward to being part of it, sir,” Will said, with all sincerity.
“Has Number One shown you the ship?” Pressman asked.
“Not much of it, sir. We came straight here.”
Pressman glanced around him. “A bridge is a bridge, more or less,” he said. “You don’t get the personality of a ship from the bridge. You get that from the crew quarters, public areas, lounges. The bridge is functional, that’s all. Anyway, you’re not on duty until tomorrow, correct? Why don’t you take some time and see the rest of her, and then report back here?”
“I’d like that, sir,” Will agreed.
“Number One, Mr. Riker needs to continue his tour. Perhaps Mr. Boylen can show him around.”
“Yes, sir,” Commander Chamish said. He touched his combadge. “Lieutenant Boylen, to the bridge.”
Captain Pressman, seemingly immersed in other business, sank into his seat and began studying the status display screens built into the chair’s armrests. A few moments later, the turbolift door whooshed open and a tall, sandy-haired officer appeared. He looked like an athlete, with arms that strained his gold uniform sleeves and a jaw that looked like it could cut steel. “Sir?” he said as he entered the bridge.
“Lieutenant Boylen,” Chamish said. “This is Ensign Will Riker. He’s taking over as helm officer, and the captain would like him to get a full tour of the ship.”
Boylen fixed Will with an appraising stare. “Yes, sir,” he said. Then, to Will he added softly, “Let’s go, rookie.”
Will obeyed. As they stepped onto the turbolift, he caught a glint of mischief in the taller man’s eyes. “You sure you’re old enough to be an Academy graduate?” Boylen asked.
“Yes, sir,” Will replied, understanding that he was being set up for something but not comfortable responding to an officer in any other way.
“Because I don’t want any kids getting in the way around here,” Boylen continued. “There are enough kids as it is, what with the families on board. Chamish has three, all by himself.”
“I’m no kid, sir,” Will answered.
“Kind of a babyface, though, aren’t you?” Boylen needled. “You shave yet?”
Will allowed himself a smile. “Yes, sir. Once in a while, sir.”
Boylen laughed at that. “That’s good,” he said. “I like an officer with a little sense of humor. I think you’ll do just fine around here, Ensign Babyface. You can call me Marc.”
“Thank you, sir. Marc.” Will said. “You can call me Will.”
“No thanks,” Marc Boylen responded with a smirk. “ ‘Ensign Babyface’ works for me.”
They started Will’s tour at the starboard warp nacelle. “All right, Will,” Marc said when they arrived there. “This is where you’ll get to know your new home. U.S.S. Pegasus,NCC-53847. How much do you know about her?”
“ Oberth-class starship,” Will recited. “Primary assignments are science and exploration. Named for the flying horse.” Will paused. “That’s about it, I guess.”
“That’s about all you need to know,” Marc told him, suddenly more serious than Will had seen him before. “Because a ship’s history, distinguished as it might be, doesn’t really have an impact on your life. What matters is where she goes from here, and what you can bring to it. What you care about is the ship’s future, not her past, and rightfully so.”
“Makes sense,” Will observed.
“Of course,” Marc went on, “it’s a lie, but then that might apply to anything I tell you, so you’ll have to stay on your toes. You need to know a lot more about the ship than that if you’re going to fly her. But most of what you need, you already know if you’ve flown starships before. The rest you can learn.” They walked along the length of the warp nacelle. “I don’t need to describe the propulsion system to you, do I? Or general starship construction?”