“And that’s really what you think will happen? Revolution?” They had talked about this several times in the weeks since the police attack, but he kept pressing her on the point. He knew the success of such a movement was a long shot, and the more he got to know her the more he didn’t want to see her hurt or killed.

The rally over, the audience began to stream from the building, out into the glare of midday suns. Michelle and Kyle went with the flow, but as the crowd dispersed, they found themselves alone on one of the winding streets. “Of course it is,” she replied as if he had just asked the question. “We’re both from Earth, Joe, and we’re both from the United States. We know that revolution can succeed when the cause is just and the people are behind it.”

“We also know how rare it is to have both of those elements in the right balance,” he countered.

She took his hand and squeezed it. “That’s why we need the right people in the right positions, Joe. Like you said, you know something about strategy. I haven’t asked you any questions about your background, your history, and you haven’t asked me any. I appreciate that about you, and I respect your privacy. But I think it’s time we came clean. If we’re going to succeed—and I mean the revolution, but I also mean us, you and me—then we need to know each other. We need to understand what we can each contribute.”

She stopped walking and turned to face him, taking his other hand and holding them both in hers. “My name really is Michelle. Last name Culhane. I ... broke some laws. Not on Earth, I only lived there for a few years, as a girl. My parents were rovers, wanderers, and I lived on a dozen worlds by the time I was twenty. After that, I struck out on my own and did pretty much the same. But I didn’t always run with the most reputable company. There was an incident, on Blue Horizon. Lovely place, but bad things can still happen in nice surroundings. I killed a person—two people, actually. It was justified, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t illegal. I ran. I can tell you more about it if you want to know.”

“No,” Kyle said, somewhat taken aback by the unexpected confession. “I mean, maybe someday, if you want to talk about it. If it’ll help you. But I trust you, I don’t need the details.”

She kissed him tenderly on the cheek, and then on the lips. “Thanks,” she said, drawing away. “For the trust. I like that.”

“You taught it to me,” he replied.

“So what’s your story, Joe? That’s not your name, is it? It doesn’t quite fit you, it’s like you’re wearing someone else’s shirt.”

Kyle shook his head. “No, no, it’s not my name.” He felt a moment’s hesitation, but then, emboldened by her confession and by his own growing feelings for her, he decided to tell her the truth. “My name is Kyle Riker,” he revealed. “I work—or used to, anyway, for Starfleet. I’m a civilian but I serve as a military strategist for them.”

“That’s perfect!” Michelle blurted out. “I mean, a trained military strategist. You could do wonders for the revolution.” She looked at him, a smile on her face. “Sorry, I interrupted, didn’t I? I do that.”

“That’s perfectly okay,” Kyle said. “That’s pretty much the story.”

“You’re here for a reason,” she prodded. A wind blasted down the street, flaying them both with her hair, and she laughed. Over their heads, a purple skray winged by, shrieking at them. They were, as far as he could tell, the local version of pigeons, and every bit as unappetizing.

“Someone was trying to kill me—well, either ruin my career or kill me, I guess. Someone associated, in some way, with Starfleet. I’ve had some pretty traumatic experiences in recent years, and I guess that one was the topper. I more or less flipped out and ran. I still intend to go back, but before I do I want to figure out who I’m up against, and why. So far I keep coming up blank, which is why I’m still here.”

“Maybe it’s not something you can find out from a distance,” Michelle suggested. She squeezed his hands again. “Maybe you just need to be there. Not that I want you to leave, of course. Especially not now.”

“I understand, Michelle. And you could be right. You probably are. But now ... now you’re here. I’ve screwed up before, and it’s like some kind of second chance. Fourth or fifth chance, maybe.”

She smiled once more. “I’m glad that matters to you, Joe. Or should I say, Kyle?”

“Stick with Joe,” he urged. “It’s safer that way.”

“I like Kyle better,” she told him. “That is a name that fits you. It’s stronger. Joe is nondescript, and you’re anything but. I’ll call you Joe, but in my heart you’ll be Kyle. Is that okay?”

He couldn’t help feeling glad that events had conspired to send him to Hazimot, where he could meet such an exceptional woman. That made three amazing women—Annie, Katherine Pulaski, and now Michelle Culhane—who had opened their hearts to him. How did a man get to be so lucky?

At the same time, he recognized that, while illness had claimed Annie, he alone had been responsible for the fact that he wasn’t still with Kate. He’d have to take care not to make the same mistakes again, because Michelle seemed like the kind of woman he could spend a lifetime with.

“That’ll be fine,” he said finally. “Just fine.”

“And will you help us?” she pressed. “You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to, but will you advise us? Help with strategy?”

“Let’s keep talking about that,” he suggested. “Give me time to come around. From what I’ve seen so far, you have more passion on your side than you do prospects.”

“That may be true,” she said. “But passion counts for a lot too. And we have some good minds working on it. Native Hazimotian minds, and others. With you, several good human ones as well.”

“Who else is human among the leadership?” Kyle asked. “Jackdaw? Alan?”

“They are, but they’re not really leadership,” Michelle suggested. “But I am, and of course Roog—”

“Roog’s human?” he interrupted. He pictured her indistinct, amorphous form with what seemed like other beings moving about beneath semi-translucent skin, her lumpish head and barely functional limbs. “How ... what happened to her?”

“Cyre happened,” Michelle said, an explanation that didn’t explain much. When Kyle just stared at her, she elaborated. “You might have noticed that body modification is kind of a hobby, or a fetish, of many of the locals. Especially here in The End, where it’s the only kind of art one can expect to keep when one is forced to move from one hovel to another.”

“But I thought that was just among the Hazimotians,” Kyle said.

“For the most part, but not completely,” Michelle replied. “Roog has been here for a long time, and she’s gone native in most ways. Including that one. She’s had a lot of work done, not all of which turned out exactly as she’d hoped. But she’s still human inside, where it counts. She still has the experience of revolution in her genetic memory. And she’s as dedicated as you’ll ever find, on our home world or this one.”

“I guess you just can’t trust appearances,” Kyle offered.

“You never have been able to,” Michelle agreed. “Why start now? You can only trust hard facts, like this one. When I tell you that I love you, Kyle Joe Brady Riker, I mean it. That, you can trust.”

What is the report on Kyle Riker?

The report is that there is no report. Still no news, no information. He cannot be found.

How is this possible? We have at our disposal the most far-reaching information gathering technology in the history of the galaxy. We have fingers everywhere. And one simple man can elude all of this? It simply isn’t possible.

It may not be possible, but it seems to be the case. There has been no sign of Riker since the day he vanished. We may need to accept a potential scenario that we have not wanted to...

That he’s already dead. That he killed himself, perhaps, to avoid his certain fate at our hands. Yes, I have considered that. But it doesn’t seem like his way...