Star Trek - TNG - 08 - The captain's Honor

by David

  covered with cultivated fields. To Marcus'

  eye, untutored in agrarian matters, the

  crop in those fields looked like what Magna

  Romans called frumentum, grown high and

  ready for harvesting. However, he realized that the

  plant might be something else entirely, something

  native to Tenara, and perhaps it was still at an

  early stage of its growth cycle. Such concerns

  were the province of farmers, not something an urban

  patrician concerned himself with.

  It would help to know, though, he told

  himself, in order to open the conversation with these

  peasants on a friendly level.

  Boots would have been impractical on such

  uneven ground, and armor out of the question in the warm

  sunlight. Marcus congratulated himself on

  having chosen sandals and a simple tunic.

  Dressed this way, he was very comfortable. As always,

  he was very pleased with himself.

  Across the valley, a small village sat

  near the top of one of the hills. It was well

  above the limit of the cultivated fields, its

  houses set close together so that they didn't

  use up any of the arable land. Marcus nodded his

  approval of such efficiency. The village was

  his destination. He had beamed down just out of sight

  of it but within easy walking distance.

  Marcus turned and set out across the

  brow of the hills that formed the sides of the

  valley. He could have saved quite a bit of time and

  distance by cutting across the valley, but that would have

  taken him through some of the cultivated land. Such

  peasants as these, Marcus knew, would be

  angered by any damage to their crops.

  At least that was the way it was on Magna

  Roma these days. Spurred on by their initial

  contact with the Federation, the old Imperial

  Government had begun its sudden, yet

  surprisingly peaceful transformation into the

  Republic of today almost eighty years ago.

  Around the time of his birth, the new Magna

  Roman government had begun its serious push

  for land reform. The latifundia, the great

  estates of imperial days, had been broken

  up and parceled out to people whose ancestors had been

  serfs on those very latifundia. The

  descendants of the serfs now farmed their own land,

  and would not tolerate the presence of someone like

  Marcus on that land. Membership in the

  Volcinii gens, or any of the other great,

  ancient clans, had once ensured the

  terrified obedience of the serfs. Now it

  guaranteed only the hatred of their

  descendants.

  In the valley, a swarm of people moved among

  the rows of plants, bent over, searching for

  weeds and pest damage. One of them noticed

  Marcus and called out to him. The others

  straightened and looked where their comrade was

  pointing. Still immersed in his gloomy thoughts of the

  current situation on his homeworld, Marcus

  stiffened in momentary fear of the farmers.

  Then he realized that they were waving at him in

  normal Tenaran friendliness. He smiled

  broadly at them, waved back, and continued

  toward the village.

  The village was empty, but the schoolhouse

  was easy to find.

  Once he was in the village, Marcus could

  see that it consisted of houses arranged in a rough

  circle around a larger building, which he knew

  would be the combination meeting hall, saavta

  assembly hall, and school.

  All of the houses were one-story square

  structures made of wood, with rounded roofs of

  roughly woven dried grass. It was a

  primitive design in Marcus' eyes, but

  he had to admit that it probably

  served well in the mild climate of these parts.

  The central building, though, was two

  stories high, fronted by a ground-level

  porch. Marcus squinted upward and made out

  individual wooden planks, each carefully

  bent into a curve, so that together they formed the dome

  of the roof. A lot of trouble to go to, he

  thought. It graphically demonstrated how

  important this building was to the Tenarans. That

  pleased Marcus. It was a kinship. The

  Senate of Magna Roma still met in the very

  same stone building in the city of Rome that the

  ancient Romans had used, long before their

  empire had conquered their entire world. That

  building had an almost religious significance

  for Magna Romans, and here, in the care taken

  with the saavta building in this obscure

  village on Tenara, he saw the foundation of the

  same mystical respect. Marcus nodded

  approvingly and stepped onto the porch.

  The ground floor consisted of one large

  room, quite empty. Just like the village,

  Marcus thought. All of the inhabitants must be

  down in the valley tending to their crops. Then

  he heard voices. To his right, he saw a

  flight of stairs. He climbed it to the

  second floor, moving a bit hesitantly,

  still unsure of his reception.

  The second floor was divided into four

  rooms, only one of which was in use. A dozen

  children sat on the floor or on chairs, or

  leaned against the walls, listening with varying

  degrees of interest to an older woman in the

  center of the room.

  Marcus stopped in the doorway,

  unobserved, and listened for a while. The woman

  was reciting a list of names in an almost singsong

  voice.

  Names to learn by rote, Marcus thought

  scornfully. Peasant lore, passed down

  orally to the next generation.

  He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

  The teacher stopped in mid-word and looked at

  Marcus in confusion. "Yes? Who--"

  But the children knew. Somehow, their grapevine

  had carried to them word of the exciting visitors from

  space. "He's from Starfleet!" one of them

  shouted, and then they all rushed at Marcus,

  grinning eagerly.

  He was alarmed again for a moment, but

  held his ground and smiled at the children.

  They surrounded him, fingering the machine-made

  cloth of his tunic with awe, and showering him with

  questions. He could hardly make out a word they were

  saying.

  "One at a time," he laughed. "Please!"

  The teacher's voice cut through the babble.

  "Children! Show some manners!" When their voices

  quieted, she said to Marcus, "Are you lost,

  sir? Can we help you find your way somewhere?"

  Marcus grinned happily. This is so

  easy! "No, actually I'm right where I

  wanted to be. I'm here to help you teach."

  "Help me teach?" she repeated in

  bewilderment.

  "Oh, yes." He held up the small hand

  computer he had brought with him from the

  Centurion. "With your permission, I thought

  I'd give your students a short course in

  Roman history." />
  The happy shouts of the children drowned out the

  teacher's confused protests and were all the

  encouragement Marcus needed. Tenara had a

  long way to go, and Marcus Julius

  Volcinius was here to guide it in the right

  direction.

  The day's work had been long and physically

  exhausting. Jenny was glad when the last of the

  equipment was beamed down, and the temporary

  shelters for the Enterprise personnel set

  up.

  Again, by way of contrast, the Centurion's

  personnel had beamed down prefabricated

  building blocks, which they quickly assembled into a

  barracks that resembled nothing so much as an armed

  fortress to Jenny, and (from the shocked

  expressions on their faces) to the group of

  Tenarans accompanying her.

  This last part of Jenny's day was the most

  exhausting; not physically, but mentally. She was

  taking Chairman Melkinat and the other members

  of the Great Saavta on a brief tour of the

  ground-based defense installations the Magna

  Romans were setting up. There were about thirty of

  them altogether, walking behind her. Even as she

  spoke, pointing out each weapon and detailing

  its capabilities, she could sense the

  Tenarans' distaste and see the way they cringed from

  the machines she was showing them.

  Commander Riker was right, she thought. I

  don't think these people are ready for this.

  Jenny turned to them. "Look, I know you

  don't really approve of all of this, but

  we're doing it to protect you from further

  M'dok attacks. If you really don't

  want any of these devices"--she swept her

  arm out to indicate the entire collection of

  weapons and the crews manning them--"you can just

  tell us to take them away and leave, and we will.

  This is your world, and we're only here

  by invitation."

  She'd spoken perhaps more plainly than she'd

  intended--the Tenarans seemed to sense the

  annoyance in her voice and backed away from

  her.

  Melkinat stepped forward from the pack and said

  gently, "Don't distress yourself on our

  account, Ensign de Luz. We all understand the

  need for these weapons, and we appreciate the

  efforts of your two ships to help us." He

  turned to the other Tenarans, who added their loud

  assurances to his.

  The chairman continued, "Please don't

  misinterpret our distaste for disapproval,

  Ensign. It's just ... well, difficult for

  us."

  He drew a deep breath and pointed at the

  phaser-mounted cannon the Centurion's

  crew had transported down. "These are very

  powerful devices. You say they can detect a

  ship in space as soon as it approaches

  Tenara, and if necessary, even destroy it while

  it's still in space. If that's so, then why do

  you--I mean, we--need any other installations

  than this one? I know you plan to place similar

  devices elsewhere on Tenara."

  "Because of blind spots, sir," Jenny said.

  The Tenarans looked puzzled. "You see,"

  she explained, "none of these weapons we have here

  can fire through a planet, so that means that an

  enemy--a raider, I should say--can approach

  in Tenara's shadow, in other words, from such a

  direction that the planet itself shields the ship from

  the weapons. This means that even though the

  satellite system we plan to set up can

  detect a raider approaching from any

  direction, the weapons may not be able to fire

  on it. So we plan--with your permission, of

  course--to establish similar

  collections of weapons across Tenara's land

  surfaces and on rafts out at sea, so that no

  matter which direction the M'dok try

  to approach from, they can still be kept away."

  "All over the world?" one of the Tenarans

  repeated. This was an older woman, her hair

  pure white and thinning, who had earlier been

  introduced to Jenny as Anka. "I had

  hoped," Anka went on, "that we could limit

  the exposure of our people to these devices, but if

  they're everywhere, then that becomes impossible,

  doesn't it?"

  "I suppose it's the price we have to pay

  to protect our world, Anka," Melkinat said

  sadly, his distress evident.

  "The price is not worth paying,

  Chairman."

  The loud grumblings that followed her words

  indicated that a great many of her fellow

  Tenarans agreed with her.

  "We have been over this before," Melkinat said.

  "The vote was to defend our world--not to die like

  cattle."

  Anka glared at him. "I call for another

  vote, then."

  Jenny saw that the Tenarans had split

  into two factions--factions rapidly moving

  apart from each other. The smaller group consisted

  of Melkinat and the other members of the Central

  Council. The larger group, about two dozen

  people, included Anka and those Great Saavta

  members who were not part of the Central Council.

  Jenny tried to defuse the situation. "Our

  presence here is a deterrent, one we hope will

  shortly become unnecessary. If we can convince the

  M'dok to stop these raids--"

  "And if you can't?" A member of Anka's

  faction, a slender, bearded man with a

  surprisingly deep voice, moved to the front

  of the pack. "What then?"

  "We have every hope that we will be able to."

  Jenny knew as soon as she spoke how weak

  her answer sounded.

  "I have another question for you, Melkinat,"

  Anka demanded. "What happens when the

  Federation leaves? Who will man these weapons

  then?"

  The grumbling from the people behind her grew even

  louder.

  Melkinat stepped in front of

  Jenny and stood face-to-face with Anka.

  To his credit, he did not try to dodge the

  issue. "If the Federation leaves, we will have

  to man the weapons."

  "Never!" she said.

  "It is that or perish," Melkinat said

  simply.

  "Better to die with our principles intact

  than to become killers ourselves," Anka said.

  "Anka's right!" Yet another member of the

  older woman's faction spoke up now. "These

  weapons must not stay here!"

  Jenny shouted for quiet, but few of the

  Tenarans could hear her over their own noise.

  Several did turn their attention her way,

  though, their faces red and their fists raised.

  Suddenly Jenny realized these peaceful people were

  just as capable of violence as anyone else. It

  was just a matter of finding the right trigger--and she

  seemed to have found it.

  With outward calm she raised her hand slowly

  to the communicator contained in the insignia on

  her chest. But then she stopped. The Tenarans were

  looking at each other, trying to
draw the

  courage to make the first irretrievable move.

  The air was electric with tension, with the

  potential of violence. Jenny feared that her

  call to the Enterprise to beam her up would

  trigger it. She might get hurt--or lose

  control and hurt some of the Tenarans.

  And then came the familiar sound of a

  transporter. The open space around Jenny

  began to fill with gold-shirted security

  troops. The Tenarans scuttled backward.

  Jenny sighed in relief and dropped her

  hand. How did the Enterprise know I

  needed help?

  And then something odd struck her about this

  security force in addition to the normal

  equipment, each one wore a short sword at

  his waist. Why, they're Magna Romana!

  They aren't from the Enterprise at all.

  They're from the Centurion.

  A stocky figure pushed his way through the

  security cordon to her side. "Are you all

  right, Jenny?"

  She laughed. "Just fine, Gaius. The

  Roman cavalry arrived in the nick of time."

  Gaius Aldus smiled in return.

  "Romans have always believed in

  punctuality."

  The Tenarans had retreated still further while

  Jenny and Gaius Aldus spoke. Now they

  were gathered in a group at a distance, acting like

  small children aware of their guilt. Melkinat

  approached the watchful Magna Roman force

  hesitantly.

  "It's all right," Jenny called out.

  "Let them through."

  The security forces parted, forming a

  corridor through which the two Tenarans walked

  nervously, their eyes flicking from side

  to side. Jenny waited for them without

  expression.

  Melkinat licked his lips and said,

  "Ensign, I can't tell you how sorry I

  am that this happened."

  "I know you are," Jenny said. "Melkinat,

  take your people back to Zhelnogra. I'm

  sure Captain Picard will be in contact with

  you."

  Gaius Aldus gestured, and the security

  troops parted again for Melkinat to pass through.

  Jenny and Gaius could see Melkinat

  talking to the other Tenarans earnestly. The

  group gestured frequently toward the Magna

  Roman security force, then broke up and

  headed back toward the handful of old ground

  vehicles into which they had crowded for the long trip

  from Zhelnogra. They jammed themselves back

  into the vehicles and began the trip home.

  Jenny hesitated, then gestured for Gaius

  to walk a short distance away with her. When she

  was sure they were out of earshot of the others, she said