Apparently I'm still doing Riker and his issues. No idea where, if anywhere at all, this is headed. Concrit welcome.
"This is...this is Lieutenant Arashi. I was wondering if--I know you're on leave, but I was wondering--if you have time--I know it's an imposition, but--"
Riker bit back a sigh. Arashi? He tried to remember the details there. Tellarite. Stellar dynamics. Nice kid. Mild by Human standards, painfully shy and diffident by Tellarite ones, not to mention way more conflict averse than Riker had ever encountered with that species. He'd been on the ship during the Borg invasion, but he'd managed to stay one step ahead of them the entire time. Probably he just needed to talk it through with someone.
On the one hand, Starfleet had reams of therapists available for just that, and Riker could barely manage his own issues today, let along someone else's. On the other, he tried to be responsive to everyone on the crew. It was vital that they trust him to always be there for them. He had no problem shutting down someone trying to bypass the chain of command, but at the same time he couldn't be closed off to the concerns of the crew, even when those concerns got petty. And they could get very petty. Being the first officer meant walking a fine line between being a disciplinarian and a den mother. Or father, as the case may be.
"I'm in Anchorage," Riker said. "Alaska. I was just about to go for a cup of tea. Join me?"
"Um, yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He'd hear the kid out for a few minutes, and then gently, or not so gently depending on how things went, nudge him toward the psychologists.
Riker gave him the name of the coffee shop he was headed to and closed the comm. He pulled on his boots and a coat. It was negative three outside, and a few fat snowflakes were falling, although they weren't expecting any serious accumulation, so he pulled on gloves, but left the hood of his coat down.
He took the long way to the coffee shop. It would take Arashi some time to get to a transporter, beam down from wherever he was, and then get to the coffee shop, and besides the walk would be soothing.
At least, the walk started out soothing, and then he turned a corner and came face to face with his old school. He hadn't intended it, not consciously, but there it was. The same and different. He crossed the street, dodging a half a dozen bikes, a city bus, and two private vehicles, until he was face to face with the place he had spent most of his days from the ages of four to fourteen.
It was a school day, and the kids were out playing. Younger kids screaming and jumping and scrambling across playground equipment, older kids on the climbing wall and showing off in a zero-g aerial gym. A teacher noticed him, and started to cross the playground toward him, probably wanting to know what he was doing watching the kids. He thought about veering away, but that would look worse, so he put on his best innocent face and waited until she was close enough to say, "I went to school here."
She took a few steps closer, and her jaw dropped. "Billy Riker!"
He grimaced. "I really prefer Will these days." Recognition dawned. "Ms. Monique."
She looked different. Her curly hair was mostly gray, and while her tan skin wasn't heavily lined, gravity had taken its toll on her chin and under her eyes. She'd gotten old. But then, so had he.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk and shook her head. "Billy Riker," she said. "Sorry, Will. You said you preferred Will." She looked him over. "I always knew you'd be a tall one."
He smiled, easy and charming, to cover up his discomfort. "How are you, Ms. Monique?"
She laughed. "I'm good. You know you can drop the 'Ms.', right? What are you now? Forty?"
"Thirty seven," he said, hopefully not letting the defensiveness into his voice. Did he really look forty? Then again, he'd felt about a hundred when he'd woken up that morning.
"All grown up," she said.
Will kept the easy smile on his face, but he hated that. Why did people who had known him as a child insist on commenting that he'd grown up? Had they thought there was a chance he'd somehow just stay stuck in perpetual childhood? It was inane conversation filler, and in his current mood, it annoyed him more than it should have.
"All grown up," he echoed.
Before he could make his excuse to go, she broke in with, "Where are you living now?"
"Space."
"Private sector?"
"No, Starfleet."
"Doing what?"
"I'm the executive officer on a starship."
Of course the follow up question was, "Which one?"
Here we go, Riker thought, and said, "Enterprise."
"Oh! Picard!"
He nodded. The Enterprise had a reputation, and ended up in the news a fair amount, but fortunately the average person only knew the name Picard. Only the hardcore Starfleet devotees had memorized the rest of the senior staff. Riker had met a few of them over the years. Once, in a restroom on Andor, he had spent twenty minutes being quizzed about old missions before he'd managed to break away. It was another reason he preferred deep space to the more central Federation worlds. There were only so many times you could be involved in deeply weird things before you developed a certain amount of notoriety. Many of their missions were classified, but enough of them weren't, and it could get uncomfortable to have random strangers that he had never met before know things about his career that he himself had half-forgotten.
In deep space, those encounters just didn't happen.
"What is the executive officer, anyway?"
"It's a little bit of everything," Riker said. "The captain issues the orders and I make sure they're carried out." And I take care of the minutiae of running the ship so that the captain can focus on the bigger picture. And I manage the personnel, which occasionally means holding the hand of a Tellarite lieutenant having a hard time getting over almost being assimilated by the Borg. Which reminded him. "I really need to go. I'm supposed to be meeting someone."
"Oh, of course. How long are you in town?"
"I really don't know."
"You should come back, talk to my class. They'd love to talk to a real life Starfleet officer."
Living and breathing Starfleet all day every day, it was easy to forget Starfleet officers were actually rare, relative to the rest of the population.
"Maybe," he said, and jotted his contact information at the hotel on a PADD for her before making a sort of running along gesture and giving her a wave and starting to walk away.
"Do you think Captain Picard might be willing to come and talk to them?" she called after him.
"Maybe," Riker said. No. Not for all the tea in China.
no subject
"This is...this is Lieutenant Arashi. I was wondering if--I know you're on leave, but I was wondering--if you have time--I know it's an imposition, but--"
Riker bit back a sigh. Arashi? He tried to remember the details there. Tellarite. Stellar dynamics. Nice kid. Mild by Human standards, painfully shy and diffident by Tellarite ones, not to mention way more conflict averse than Riker had ever encountered with that species. He'd been on the ship during the Borg invasion, but he'd managed to stay one step ahead of them the entire time. Probably he just needed to talk it through with someone.
On the one hand, Starfleet had reams of therapists available for just that, and Riker could barely manage his own issues today, let along someone else's. On the other, he tried to be responsive to everyone on the crew. It was vital that they trust him to always be there for them. He had no problem shutting down someone trying to bypass the chain of command, but at the same time he couldn't be closed off to the concerns of the crew, even when those concerns got petty. And they could get very petty. Being the first officer meant walking a fine line between being a disciplinarian and a den mother. Or father, as the case may be.
"I'm in Anchorage," Riker said. "Alaska. I was just about to go for a cup of tea. Join me?"
"Um, yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
He'd hear the kid out for a few minutes, and then gently, or not so gently depending on how things went, nudge him toward the psychologists.
Riker gave him the name of the coffee shop he was headed to and closed the comm. He pulled on his boots and a coat. It was negative three outside, and a few fat snowflakes were falling, although they weren't expecting any serious accumulation, so he pulled on gloves, but left the hood of his coat down.
He took the long way to the coffee shop. It would take Arashi some time to get to a transporter, beam down from wherever he was, and then get to the coffee shop, and besides the walk would be soothing.
At least, the walk started out soothing, and then he turned a corner and came face to face with his old school. He hadn't intended it, not consciously, but there it was. The same and different. He crossed the street, dodging a half a dozen bikes, a city bus, and two private vehicles, until he was face to face with the place he had spent most of his days from the ages of four to fourteen.
It was a school day, and the kids were out playing. Younger kids screaming and jumping and scrambling across playground equipment, older kids on the climbing wall and showing off in a zero-g aerial gym. A teacher noticed him, and started to cross the playground toward him, probably wanting to know what he was doing watching the kids. He thought about veering away, but that would look worse, so he put on his best innocent face and waited until she was close enough to say, "I went to school here."
She took a few steps closer, and her jaw dropped. "Billy Riker!"
He grimaced. "I really prefer Will these days." Recognition dawned. "Ms. Monique."
She looked different. Her curly hair was mostly gray, and while her tan skin wasn't heavily lined, gravity had taken its toll on her chin and under her eyes. She'd gotten old. But then, so had he.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk and shook her head. "Billy Riker," she said. "Sorry, Will. You said you preferred Will." She looked him over. "I always knew you'd be a tall one."
He smiled, easy and charming, to cover up his discomfort. "How are you, Ms. Monique?"
She laughed. "I'm good. You know you can drop the 'Ms.', right? What are you now? Forty?"
"Thirty seven," he said, hopefully not letting the defensiveness into his voice. Did he really look forty? Then again, he'd felt about a hundred when he'd woken up that morning.
"All grown up," she said.
Will kept the easy smile on his face, but he hated that. Why did people who had known him as a child insist on commenting that he'd grown up? Had they thought there was a chance he'd somehow just stay stuck in perpetual childhood? It was inane conversation filler, and in his current mood, it annoyed him more than it should have.
"All grown up," he echoed.
Before he could make his excuse to go, she broke in with, "Where are you living now?"
"Space."
"Private sector?"
"No, Starfleet."
"Doing what?"
"I'm the executive officer on a starship."
Of course the follow up question was, "Which one?"
Here we go, Riker thought, and said, "Enterprise."
"Oh! Picard!"
He nodded. The Enterprise had a reputation, and ended up in the news a fair amount, but fortunately the average person only knew the name Picard. Only the hardcore Starfleet devotees had memorized the rest of the senior staff. Riker had met a few of them over the years. Once, in a restroom on Andor, he had spent twenty minutes being quizzed about old missions before he'd managed to break away. It was another reason he preferred deep space to the more central Federation worlds. There were only so many times you could be involved in deeply weird things before you developed a certain amount of notoriety. Many of their missions were classified, but enough of them weren't, and it could get uncomfortable to have random strangers that he had never met before know things about his career that he himself had half-forgotten.
In deep space, those encounters just didn't happen.
"What is the executive officer, anyway?"
"It's a little bit of everything," Riker said. "The captain issues the orders and I make sure they're carried out." And I take care of the minutiae of running the ship so that the captain can focus on the bigger picture. And I manage the personnel, which occasionally means holding the hand of a Tellarite lieutenant having a hard time getting over almost being assimilated by the Borg. Which reminded him. "I really need to go. I'm supposed to be meeting someone."
"Oh, of course. How long are you in town?"
"I really don't know."
"You should come back, talk to my class. They'd love to talk to a real life Starfleet officer."
Living and breathing Starfleet all day every day, it was easy to forget Starfleet officers were actually rare, relative to the rest of the population.
"Maybe," he said, and jotted his contact information at the hotel on a PADD for her before making a sort of running along gesture and giving her a wave and starting to walk away.
"Do you think Captain Picard might be willing to come and talk to them?" she called after him.
"Maybe," Riker said. No. Not for all the tea in China.
"Bye Billy!"