Mark Hughes had been assigned to assist the transporter chief in Transporter Room 7. He was a little annoyed to have to stand aside and look on while the chief went about his duties. Mark, after all, had had instruction at the Academy in the basic functions of the transporter; and his training sessions had earned him high marks. Still, he was just an ensign, newly signed on; and he knew he would have to serve an apprentice turn in every ship’s department in his first year on board.
The chief received Troi’s order and locked on to the three communicator signals at the Farpoint Station coordinates. “What’re they doing below ground?” he wondered aloud. But he shrugged his shoulders and started the transport.
The sparkling shimmer of the collection and materialization began on the pad, and the three columns formed into the solid figures of Tasha Yar, Deanna Troi and Geordi LaForge. As they stepped off the platform, Hughes moved forward to his friend. Tasha ignored Hughes and said briskly over her shoulder, “Mr. LaForge. To the bridge, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Geordi hesitated and fell back a little behind the two women as Hughes stepped in beside him.
“Geordi, what’s going on?” Hughes demanded. “You’re no sooner on board and you’re assigned to an away mission. Now they want you on the bridge—”
“Mr. LaForge,” Tasha snapped as she looked back and realized he was not following her.
“Coming,” Geordi said. He looked at Hughes, shrugged helplessly, and ran to catch up to the other two officers.
Hughes watched him out the Transporter Room door and then glanced back at the transporter chief. “Some people would do anything for the moon and the stars . . . and some have ’em dumped right in their laps without even having to ask.” He felt jealous about Geordi’s good fortune, although he had to admit Geordi did have some rank on him. But not that much, he thought a little bitterly. He was frank enough with himself to acknowledge he felt left out . . . not only of feeling a part of the crew but also because Geordi already seemed to be moving far ahead of him . . . maybe to a place where a friend who only ranked as a new ensign would not be wanted.
On the planet, Riker and Data had reached one of the boundaries that linked with old Bandi city with Farpoint Station. It was a courtyard, almost like a village square; but its pleasant aspect was ruined by the fire raging in a crumpled structure on the far side of it. A hand-worked metal door stopped the flow of traffic between the two sections, and when Data and Riker reached it, they found it was locked.
“Phaser it,” Riker ordered. As Data adjusted his phaser to a cutting setting, the first officer touched his communicator and spoke. “Enterprise, this is Riker.” There was no immediate response. Data briefly glanced up, then fired his phaser at the door’s locking mechanism. The lock popped under the blast, and Data was able to wrestle the door open with a minimum of effort.
“Enterprise, come in,” Riker said. He shook his head and followed Data through the door. “They must be busy up there—with whatever is—”
The explosive blast of some kind of energy bolt roared over his words. As Riker and Data whirled to look in the direction from which it had come, they saw another building shatter into stones and a ballooning cloud of dust. As the structure collapsed, Riker keyed his communicator again.
Picard studied the main viewscreen dispassionately. The mystery vessel directed another bolt of ferocious energy down at the planet, but even the maximum enlargement available on the screen was not able to give specific details. Worf was restless at the Ops console in front of him. Picard could see the Klingon’s shoulder muscles bunching and tensing as he shifted weight in the chair. Finally, Worf grated insistently, “Standing by to fire, sir.”
Picard waited for a full breath before he shook his head firmly. “Continue weapons standby. What exactly is that ship firing on?”
“Hard to tell, sir. Looks like only the old city, but some of the hits have been very close to where Farpoint Station joins it.”
“No response from Riker yet?”
“No, sir. I have a continuous send for him. He might’ve gotten caught in some of that,” Worf said, nodding at the viewscreen to indicate the damaged city.
Suddenly, Zorn’s voice burst from the communications speaker. “Enterprise, Enterprise, help us! Come in, please!”
“Vessel firing again, sir,” Worf rasped.
“What shall we do?” Zorn pleaded.
Picard tabbed the communications panel on his left. “Groppler Zorn—
“Captain! You must save us! We’re under attack—we have casualties—”
“We will send assistance, Groppler,” Picard cut in harshly. “Where are the casualties?”
“The city,” Zorn’s voice wavered. The sound of another explosion almost obliterated his next words. “The city. Center of the city. Hurry, please!”
“At once,” Picard snapped. He tabbed his communications line again. “Sickbay. Dr. Crusher.”
Beverly’s voice responded immediately. “Crusher here.”
“The Bandi city is suffering casualties. We’ll need an emergency medical team—”
“I’m on it now, sir. Crusher out.”
Picard grunted approvingly. Then he addressed the communications line again. “Commander Riker, come in. Where are you?” The hiss of the turbolift doors opening signaled newcomers to the bridge. He glanced around to see Troi, Tasha and Geordi hurry onto the bridge. “Riker?” Picard asked quickly.
“Still planetside, sir,” Troi replied.
“I see. Mr. LaForge.”
“Sir.”
“You’re a conn officer, aren’t you?” At Geordi’s nod, Picard gestured toward the empty conn panel beside Worf. “Take that position now. We may have to maneuver in a hurry.”
“Yes, sir.” Geordi hurried forward to slide into the console seat. Behind them, Tasha relieved the assistant chief security officer on the Weapons and Tactical console. Troi moved to her seat on Picard’s left.
“Where was Riker when you last saw him?” Picard began, to Troi.
Riker’s own voice sharply cut in over the communications line. “Riker to Enterprise. Come in.”
“Finally,” Picard muttered. “Commander, where are you?”
“With Data, on the edge of the old city, Captain. It’s being hit hard.”
“So I hear. And Farpoint Station? Any damage there?”
There was another crash in the background before Riker’s voice came through clearly. “Negative on damage to Farpoint, sir. Whoever they are, it seems they’re carefully avoiding hitting the station.”
“It’s an unidentified vessel that’s entered orbit with us here. No ID, no answer to our signals. . . .”
“They’re hitting the Bandi city hard, sir. Heavy casualties very probable.”
“Understood, Commander. Emergency assistance is underway.” Picard paused, pursing his mouth. A time for thought, and a time for action. He said carefully, “Would you object to your captain ordering a clearly illegal kidnapping?”
“No objection, sir—if you feel it’s necessary.”
“I do. Zorn may have the answers we need. Bring him here!”
“Aye, sir!” Riker responded briskly. “Riker out.”
“Mr. Worf, put our mystery vessel back on screen.” Worf quickly complied, and the main viewscreen flashed up the image of the dark, ominous ship hovering over Farpoint. Picard studied it silently, unable to fathom its intent. He shook his head and turned to look at Troi. “Why are they only attacking the old city? If they have a quarrel with us, they would fire on us . . . or on the station that’s supposed to be ours. Why limit it to the Bandi city?”
“Does it matter if they only have a quarrel with the Bandi?” Troi asked. “We have a moral obligation to defend those people.”
“They’re forcing a difficult decision on me, Counselor.”
“I doubt protecting the Bandi would violate the Prime Directive. They’ve asked for our help. True, they are not actual allies. . . .”
&n
bsp; “But we are in the midst of diplomatic discussions with them. We owe them this much.” Picard spoke without looking around to Tasha. “Lock phasers on that vessel, Lieutenant.”
Tasha’s slim fingers moved purposefully on the panel. “Phasers locked on, Captain.”
The flash of intense white light that bathed the bridge brought Picard out of his chair almost in a fighting stance. Of course, it would be Q. The creature wore the red and black judge’s robes he had sported in the courtroom. He sneered around at Picard and the bridge crew, and his eyes rested with particular sarcasm on Tasha at the Weapons and Tactics console. “Typical, so typical,” he said. “Savage life forms never follow even their own rules. Or the rules they say they have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Q?”
Q turned his attention back to Picard, and the corners of his mouth curled upward tauntingly. “I recall an impassioned speech—not too long ago—some young woman of my acquaintance. . . .” He shifted his eyes to Tasha again. “What was it now? Ah. ‘This so-called court should get down on its knees to what Starfleet is, what it represents.’ You remember that, don’t you, Captain? And you had a statement to make yourself. Let’s see. . . .”Q snapped his fingers. “Yes. ‘We agree there is evidence to support the court’s contention that humans have been savage. Therefore, I say “test us” . . . test whether this is presently true of humans.’ I liked that, Captain. Very persuasive. So persuasive, in fact, that I returned you to your ship and allowed you to come here to be tested.”
“Get off my bridge!” Picard roared.
Q smiled sadly and shook his head. “Interesting, that order about phasers.”
“Still standing by on phasers, Captain,” Tasha said coldly and briskly. Q flicked a look at her, but she ignored him and kept her eyes on Picard.
Q turned to Picard and held up his hands appealingly. “Please don’t let me interfere.” He dropped his voice to a deep, insinuating purr. “Use your weapons.”
“With no idea of who’s on that vessel, my order was a routine safety precaution. We have not been fired upon. The vessel is directing its attack on the Bandi city, and we do not know what state of hostility may exist between—”
Q rolled his eyes and broke into laughter. “Really? No idea of what that ship represents?” He shook his head. Truly, he could not comprehend the stupidity of these creatures. “The meaning of that vessel is as plain as—as plain as the noses on your ugly little primate faces. And if you were truly civilized, Captain, wouldn’t you be doing something about the casualties occurring down there?”
So! Picard thought. Maybe he doesn’t know everything. He tabbed the communication control on the armrest of his chair and snapped, “Captain to C.M.O. Are you reading any of this?”
Beverly’s voice came back almost instantly in crisp response. “Medical teams already preparing to beam down, Captain. They will be in place in five minutes.”
“Compliments on that, Doctor.” Picard turned back to Q, who stood there grinning at him. “Any questions? Starfleet personnel are trained to render aid and assistance whenever—”
“Whenever you allow people to be harmed?”
“That’s an unfair comparison,” Picard said.
“Yes, but true. And I’ll give you another unfair but true statement, Captain. Starfleet people are not trained in clear thinking, or you would have already realized what is happening and that the Bandi would have suffered no casualties at all if you had acted on the knowledge.”
“Let’s consider your thoughts. You call us ‘savages’ and yet you apparently knew those people down there would be killed and wounded. Why didn’t you say something? Do something to stop it? Is ‘testing us’ worth that price in innocent lives? I say it is you whose conduct is uncivilized.”
“Sir, they’re firing on the planet again,” Worf interjected.
The bridge crew looked up quickly at the main viewscreen in time to see the blue-white bolt arrow down toward the Bandi city again. To Picard’s eyes, it struck the very center of the old complex. Another streak of energy swiftly pursued it.
“Go to impulse power! Position us between that vessel and the planet. Shields full on!”
“Aye, sir,” Geordi snapped in quick response, his hands moving expertly on the conn panel. “Impulse power to—” He stopped, looking down, as the panel faded slowly into blackness. “We have no ship control, sir. It’s gone!”
Riker and Data ran down the old city corridors toward Zorn’s office. The transporter beam could have gotten them there instantaneously; but immediately after Riker had acknowledged Picard’s order, the communications link between him and the Enterprise had gone silent again. Riker was in good condition, but he found himself straining for breath after the long run through the old city. Data, of course, had no such problem. Zorn’s office was only a few feet in front of them when a tremendously strong energy bolt flared blue directly beside the door. The corridor rocked under the impact, and Riker and Data were flung to the floor. The ceiling cracked and partially collapsed, sending plaster dust and sand showering down on them. Once the debris stopped falling, Data stirred and sat up. Beside him, Riker slowly hauled himself upright, ducking as a fist-sized chunk of ceiling dropped to the ground.
“Are you undamaged, sir?” Data asked.
“Yes. You?”
Data’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he ran an internal check. After a few seconds, he blinked and nodded to Riker. “All systems operating.”
“Then let’s go.”
They got to their feet and moved toward Zorn’s office. The door was hanging by its hinges, and debris dust drifted lazily through the room. It was badly damaged; apparently the last bolt or one shortly before had been a direct hit. Outside, the explosion of another energy bolt sounded with a distant boom. Riker and Data ventured cautiously into the office, looking around in dismay at the shattered furniture. Only the beautiful desk seemed to have survived reasonably intact.
“Zorn?”
A muffled noise quavered from under the desk. Riker strode toward it quickly. “Groppler Zorn?” He found the old Bandi administrator cowering under the elegant desk, shaking and sobbing in fear. “Please come out, sir. We’re beaming you up to the Enterprise”. He reached under the desk and gently drew Zorn out and up to a standing position.
Zorn didn’t seem to hear him as he looked up with pleading eyes. “Please. You can make it stop. Drive it away.”
“Drive what away, Groppler?”
Zorn flinched, sucking in his breath as though realizing he had said something he shouldn’t. “I don’t know,” he said quickly.
“Unlikely, sir,” Data said flatly. He turned to Zorn. “Our records show that you supervised all Bandi contact with Starfleet. We can presume you did so with any other offworld contacts you have had.”
“We haven’t done anything wrong!”
“If that is so, you have nothing to fear. The Enterprise will be a safe shelter for you—”
“I have nothing to say to your captain.”
“Then I’m afraid we’ll have to leave. Goodbye, sir,” Riker said firmly. He turned away, and Data wheeled around to follow him.
“No!” Zorn screamed in a frightened voice. He caught himself and brought himself under more control, and his voice only shook slightly as he went on, “No, don’t leave. I . . . I’ll try to explain some of—”
The air began to take on an eerie glow around Zorn. The groppler stared down at his body in horror.
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