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

by David

  entire ground floor of the building. The

  smaller rooms upstairs, intended as

  classrooms, made Marcus feel somewhat

  claustrophobic--and struck him as traps if

  the locals turned hostile. Down here, with

  lots of space around him, he felt closer

  to escape at all times. Moreover, he had

  commandeered two of the upstairs rooms and, after

  having locks installed on the doors, had

  filled them with personal items and textbooks

  beamed down from the Centurion.

  When the boy saw that the Roman was smiling

  at him approvingly, he laughed in relief,

  and his classmates joined in his slightly

  nervous laughter.

  "Excellent, Claudius!" Marcus said,

  beaming at the class. "Children, you're really working

  hard at your lessons. Why, if this were

  Magna Roma, you'd all be candidates for

  senatorial scholarships." The boys and

  girls--all under ten years old--occupying the

  rows of desks before him had no idea what a

  senatorial scholarship was, but they could tell

  that he was complimenting them, and beamed with pride.

  They were all intrigued by the idea of being

  Magna Roman students. It was a change of

  pace from boring, dull, everyday life on

  Tenara. One of the girls raised her hand.

  Marcus nodded at her. "Yes, Julia?"

  Her name was actually Yoolka, but in the

  classroom each child used a Roman name

  assigned by Marcus. The boy he had called

  Claudius was really named Klamnin.

  Yoolka said, "Magister, you promised that

  today you'd tell us all about the conquest of

  Africa."

  "So I did, Julia. Yes

  ... an exciting part of Magna Roman

  history, full of the heroic deeds of great men.

  It's also a period of our history that greatly

  influenced the centralized form of our government.

  It took less than a hundred years to add

  that entire continent to the empire, but the roots

  of the conquest were sown far back in Roman

  history, so let's begin with the fall of

  Carthage. Remember what I told you about the

  Punic Wars? ... Good." Before he could

  continue, Marcus became aware that the children's

  attention had been diverted by something behind him.

  He jumped to his feet and turned.

  A woman in native costume stood in the

  doorway of the classroom. She was tall, with a

  strong, intelligent face.

  She was also quite beautiful.

  Marcus raised his eyebrows questioningly at

  her.

  "Please pardon my intrusion," she said

  without a trace of apology in her voice.

  "You're from Starfleet, aren't you?"

  "Quite correct. I'm Marcus Julius

  Volcinius."

  "Gretna Melkinata," she said, bowing.

  She locked eyes with Marcus. "I'm here with

  some of the Enterprise crew."

  "Oh?" Marcus said.

  "Yes, we're surveying the needs of the

  local populace throughout this valley." She

  stared directly at him. "Forgive my

  bluntness, but what exactly are you doing here?"

  "He's teaching us about Rome!" one of the children

  shouted out.

  Marcus gestured expansively. "I was

  sharing some of Magna Roma's rich history with

  my new pupils."

  "I see. Your pupils. And where are their

  regular teachers?" she asked evenly.

  "In the valley, joining their comrades in

  farming while I broaden these children's

  horizons. It's part of our

  cultural-exchange program."

  Gretna nodded. "And who has authorized

  this program?"

  Marcus closed the distance between them and spoke

  quietly. "I understand your concern, but I

  assure you that I am operating on the highest

  authority."

  "Really?"

  Marcus nodded. "Perhaps you would like to return

  this evening and discuss our plans for the exchange

  program and the additions to the curriculum.

  I'd be happy to show you my authorization

  papers as well, but now I'm afraid that I

  must return to my students."

  "Of course," Gretna answered with a tight

  smile as she turned to go. "Tonight, then."

  She left, and Marcus quickly finished the

  lessons for the day. After the last of the children was

  gone, he headed for the building's stairway.

  On the upper floor, Marcus stopped in

  front of one of the heavy wooden doors. A

  flat male computer voice said, "Nomen."

  "Marcus Julius Volcinius."

  "Confirmatus."

  The lock clicked, and Marcus pushed the

  door open. His ancestors would have thought the

  whole process wondrous. To Marcus, used

  to doors that slid aside for him, the need

  to actually push on the door so that it swung on

  its primitive hinges was a chore that seemed a

  worse burden every time he did it.

  Once inside, he pushed the door shut,

  listened for the click of the lock engaging, and then

  turned to the small communications viewscreen

  on a wooden table in the center of the room.

  Gretna Melkinata's inquiries

  presented him with no small problem, one that could

  possibly affect all his plans here ... and

  elsewhere.

  Chapter Seven

  It was barely an hour after sunset, and already

  the entire village was dark, its streets

  deserted. The only flash of color in the sky

  came from the stars above--and the flicker of the

  schoolhouse lights ahead of her.

  People went to sleep early on Tenara. Not

  surprising, since most of them spent the day

  hard at work and had to be up at the crack of

  dawn for another day of backbreaking physical

  labor.

  Except for father and me, Gretna

  Melkinata thought. Two bureaucrats on

  a planet full of farmers.

  As a little girl, she remembered staying up

  to the wee hours watching her father work, reading,

  writing, preparing legislation and speeches. As

  she grew older, he had let her help, even

  occasionally talked through his ideas with her,

  especially after her mother had died. It was a kind

  of talk that few people on Tenara were interested in,

  except for other old men.

  So she had been greatly pleased to discover

  politics was a topic Will Riker knew and

  enjoyed.

  "Part of the job," he'd told Gretna

  last night, over dinner around a campfire,

  their unsettling experience at Carda several

  hours b ehind them. "After all, we're the first

  Federation representatives that many worlds meet.

  And the leaders of those worlds, if they want to join

  the Federation, want to know how their own governments

  will be affected by membership."

  "You're the only person my age I've

  met who likes to talk about these things,"

  Gretna said.

  "Oh, I can't believe that."

 
; "It's true!" Gretna said. She pulled

  the vegetables she'd been cooking out of the fire

  and set them aside to cool. "I can remember

  going to school, back when the Federation first came

  here, and trying to talk about these things with the others.

  They avoided me like I was crazy," she said.

  "The boys avoided you?" Will asked, a

  glint in his eye.

  She couldn't help but smile. "Well ...

  they didn't necessarily want to talk."

  "That, I can believe."

  Gretna shrugged. "Maybe it was that I just

  knew so much more about it than any of them, since

  my father was in charge of the committee

  to restructure the government."

  Will took a hunk of bread out of his

  carrysack, broke off a piece, and began

  to chew on it thoughtfully. "I didn't know that."

  Gretna nodded. "The whole idea of the

  saavtas was his. He wanted to preserve the

  independence of the smaller communities and still have a

  governmental body powerful enough to make decisions

  for the whole planet."

  "That's always the problem," Will said. "How

  powerful can you let the central government become

  before it loses touch with the people and becomes a

  dictatorship?"

  Gretna reached into her knapsack and pulled

  out a canteen. "Some jhafre?"

  Will nodded. "Sure."

  "How did you settle that on your home

  planet?" she asked, handing him the canteen.

  "Well ... I can't say that we did

  settle it," Will said. "The whole question became

  obsolete, in a way, because technology

  helped us outgrow the need for that kind of

  government. I, for one, have always agreed with

  Rousseau--one of our philosophers--who said

  true democracy and a large central

  government were irreconcilable goals." He

  took a swig out of the canteen and made a

  face. "What is this stuff?"

  "Jhafre--ale."

  "Ale? You mean it's got alcohol in it?

  Real alcohol?"

  Gretna nodded, slightly confused. "Of

  course. What else?"

  Will shook his head. "Never mind. I'm going

  to regret this in the morning, but"--he took a

  long swallow--"at least it's better than that

  Magna Roman appetizer."

  Gretna looked at him questioningly, so he

  told her about the banquet aboard the

  Centurion.

  She thought for a moment before speaking again. "What

  about the Magna Romans?" she asked. "How

  did they solve the problem--reconciling a

  democracy with a large central government?"

  Will stared at her. "Did I ever tell you

  how perceptive you are for a naive Tenaran

  girl?"

  "Yes." She took the canteen back from

  him. "Now answer the question."

  "I'm not sure the Magna Romans," Will

  said, speaking carefully, "ever solved that problem

  either--until the Federation solved it for them."

  The next day, thinking about his answer,

  Gretna shuddered. What, exactly, was

  Marcus Julius teaching the schoolchildren here? And

  how high up did his authorization go?

  Suddenly she wished Will was with her now--he'd

  get some straight answers out of the Magna

  Roman. But he'd taken the other

  agronomists from the Enterprise on a

  survey expedition this morning, and wasn't due

  to rendezvous with her until early tomorrow.

  And besides, what if Will already knew what

  Marcus was up to? She didn't want

  to believe that, but for her planet's sake, she

  couldn't let her personal feelings for him get

  in the way of facts. He is part of the

  Federation, as are the Magna Romans.

  "Gretna."

  The voice, coming from beside her, was so

  unexpected that she almost jumped out of her skin.

  She turned, and Marcus Julius

  Volcinius was standing there, smiling.

  "Sorry if I frightened you." He moved

  around in front of her. "I was just on my way

  back from the village and thought I saw you standing

  out here."

  Marcus was now dressed in a maroon

  Starfleet uniform, identical to the one Will had

  been wearing when she first met him. He was a good

  half-foot shorter than she, and somehow that

  made her initial shock easier to overcome.

  "I'm not frightened," Gretna said, "I'm

  angry. I want to know what you're doing with the

  children in there." She jerked a thumb back toward

  the schoolhouse.

  "Of course," Marcus said smoothly.

  "I'd be happy to explain--or more

  precisely, someone else will."

  "I warn you, I'm in no mood for games,

  Marcus Julius."

  Marcus shook his head. "This is no game.

  I need to take you to where the decision to undertake

  the program was made--and to the people who decided

  to make it."

  Gretna eyed the Magna Roman

  dubiously. Was he trying to trap

  her? To get her somewhere out of the way and kill

  her? No, she decided. He's crafty enough for

  it, but too many people know where I am.

  "All right," she said. "I'll be interested

  to see who among you thinks he has the power

  to make this decision."

  Marcus smiled. "You are familiar with the

  transporter?"

  She nodded. "I've never actually used

  one, but--"

  "We need it to get where we're going."

  Marcus touched the insignia on his chest.

  "Centurion, this is Marcus Julius.

  Ready to transport."

  He lowered his hand and smiled at her.

  "Relax. This won't hurt a bit."

  Gretna stood stock-still for a moment, then

  felt a strange tingling in her body. She

  felt faintly sick, and then ...

  They were standing in the Central Council

  Chamber, back in the Tenaran capital city

  of Zhelnogra.

  She looked around in surprise. "What are

  we doing here?"

  "You've come to see us."

  She spun at the sound of the new voice.

  Another man in Starfleet uniform was standing

  there smiling at her.

  "You remember Captain Sejanus."

  Marcus nodded. "And of course ..."

  Another figure stepped out of the shadows.

  "... Captain Picard of the

  Enterprise."

  Gretna nodded, too surprised to speak.

  If Picard knew what was going on, then Will

  knew. She felt like a fool.

  "All right," she said angrily. "Tell

  me why you three think you have the right to interfere in

  our affairs--in the education of our children. And

  make it good," she said, crossing her arms, "so

  I can tell my father."

  "Your father already knows."

  Gretna spun, unable to believe her ears.

  Melkinat stood there smiling at her.

  "Daughter," he said, "I am glad to see

  you."

  "Father!" Gretna rushed to him, and threw

  herself into his arms. "What are you doing here?"<
br />
  "Captain Sejanus asked me to come, child."

  She took a step back, holding

  him at arm's length. "Then you know what this man

  is doing, what he's teaching?"

  Melkinat nodded. "Marcus' program is

  the only way to save our planet from the

  M'dok, daughter. Once the Federation leaves

  ..."

  Gretna's head was spinning; how could this be

  real?

  "No," she said weakly.

  "Once the Federation leaves," Melkinat

  continued, "we will have to be strong, to be able

  to defend ourselves."

  Over Melkinat's shoulder she could see

  Marcus smiling at her.

  "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

  "I'm sorry--I should have. But I feared you

  would tell the others--Anka and her group--and

  we would lose this chance to educate our people. And,"

  he said, bowing his head, "I feared you would think

  less of me for not consulting with you. But I know

  I'm right."

  She shook her head, barely aware that

  Picard was now speaking.

  "It's a program designed to make your people

  self-sufficient, Gretna. Marcus is an

  excellent teacher."

  Melkinat took his daughter's arms.

  "Forgive me ... please."

  She twisted free. "I cannot believe this."

  She turned to Marcus. "I want to get out of

  here. Now."

  "As you wish," the Magna Roman said.

  He tapped his communicator insignia.

  "Centurion."

  "Centurion here, sir."

  "Beam the chairman's daughter back to our

  original coordinates."

  "Aye, sir."

  Gretna bit her lip and turned back

  to her father. "I need some time to think."

  "Promise me you won't do anything rash,

  child." He looked at her again. "I love you."

  She nodded weakly--and then she was gone.

  Marcus laughed. ""I love you,"" he

  said, mimicking the chairman's voice. "Now,

  that was a nice touch."

  "Thank you," Melkinat said stiffly.

  "And you," Marcus said, turning to Picard.

  "I thank you for the recommendation. "Marcus

  is an excellent teacher"--indeed."

  Picard stood motionless. "I was happy

  to be of help."

  "You were exceedingly helpful." Marcus

  nodded. "Simulation end."

  The forms of Melkinat and Captain Picard

  faded and disappeared. The outlines of the council

  chamber wavered, and suddenly Marcus was standing in

  the Centurion's holodeck chamber.

  Sejanus laid a hand on his shoulder.

  "Well-played, cousin. Well-played. That

  should keep the girl quiet until tomorrow, which will be