by Rudy Josephs
“What can we do?”
“I need to use your comm,” Crusher said. “I have to get in touch with someone at Starfleet. It’s best that I do it face-to-face.”
Marie nodded. “Of course. They would need to know that the captain of their flagship is missing.”
“Oh, no,” Crusher said. “If they find out they’d have to put the fleet on alert. Recall our crew from their leave. And then any chance we have for a quiet ceremony tomorrow would be gone. No, I’ve got something different in mind.”
5
“So, Jean-Luc, tell me about the good doctor.”
Picard pulled his arm back. He’d been holding it out across the chasm between buildings to assist Vash with the crossing. They’d already walked across eight rooftops and this, the ninth, was the easiest of them all to reach. It was just a short hop, as opposed to some of the leaps they’d taken earlier. Vash didn’t really need the assistance, but he’d been trying to be polite.
“Do not start with me, Vash.”
“Who’s starting?” She took the short leap between buildings, landing beside Picard. “I was just asking a question.”
“A loaded question,” Picard said. “One that falls right into the game Q is playing with us.”
Vash rested a hand on Picard’s shoulder. “Jean-Luc, I promise I’m not trying to start anything. But you can’t blame me for being curious about the woman who finally captured your heart. Although I can see she hasn’t changed you much. When Q is the only one throwing you a bachelor party, you know you’re in trouble.”
“Do you really think I would enjoy a bachelor party?” Picard said, continuing his way across the rooftop.
Vash let out a bark of a laugh as she followed. “No one likes a bachelor party! They’re awkward and antiquated rituals that treat marriage as if it’s the end of the party. I promise you, when I finally get hooked, the parties will continue until I’m dead. Or divorced.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
Vash smiled. “You always were a charmer.” The smile then twisted into something more mischievous as she took him by the arm, stopping him before he could cross to the next roof. “Is that how you captured Beverly’s heart? With your charming ways?”
Picard blew out a sigh as he sat on the ledge. “You’re not going to be happy until I answer your question, are you?”
Vash sat beside him. “I’m always happy. You know that. But I won’t be satisfied.”
Picard paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Beverly has been . . . ever present. For the longest time, I took that for granted. Content with her in my life. She brought me comfort and a certain . . . continuity. Not everything with her is an adventure, and yet there is no one I would rather go on an adventure with. No offense, Vash.”
Vash flashed a smile. “None taken.”
“She is part of my past. She has been ever my present,” Picard said. “It took my nearly losing her to realize that she was also my future.”
They sat in silence for a moment, neither sure what to say. Picard wanted to apologize to Vash for being so ambiguous about their own relationship over the years, but the truth was that she was an enigma all her own. She likely would not take well to pointless apologies when it was so clear that they had both moved forward, if not moved on.
Without another word, Picard stood, lifted himself up on to the ledge, and stepped out into nothingness, dropping to the next rooftop.
“Dramatic,” Vash said, laughing as she joined him.
Picard moved to the front of the building and leaned over the edge. The street below was empty. “I think we’ve put enough distance between us and those creatures.”
“Hope so,” Vash called back to him. “Because we’re out of rooftops.”
Picard joined her at the other side of the building. They’d successfully traversed the long city block. A wide street lay between them and the next structure, a tall metallic building that came to a point at the top, across which there was no flat roof to walk. The building was far too distant to reach by jumping. They would have to go by foot.
Vash pointed down the street. “What’s that building there?”
Picard didn’t have to ask which building she meant. It stood out from the rest by its vast size alone. But even at a smaller scale it would have been hard to miss. The enormous glass dome sparkled in the light of the setting sun. The entire structure filled a city block. It was a completely unique design, unlike anything Picard had seen in his travels, and yet there was also a familiar feel to the structure. What he would have called Greek Doric columns from Earth blended with the modern curves and metallic edges he traditionally associated with the architect Sava of Benzar. What could have been influences from multiple familiar races had created an entirely fresh look from this apparently long-dead alien culture.
Picard imagined they were on the edge of some arts district. The giant dome was not the only structure to stand out. The city blocks had made a dramatic shift from their rectangular boxes into something quite visually fascinating. The obelisk across the way was only one example of the differences. Each structure was a piece of art. Like the domed building, many had a familiar feel.
“An art center?” Picard guessed, with an eye in the direction Vash was pointing. “Theater?”
“Maybe it’s a government building,” Vash suggested. “Or maybe it’s where the treasure is stored.”
“I don’t know, Vash,” Picard said. “It might as well have a giant red X on it and a sign that reads: Look Here.”
Vash nodded. “Well, who are we to ignore an invitation like that? I’ll race you there.”
“We should exercise cau—”
Vash was off and running before Picard could finish the sentence. Remembering that fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Picard couldn’t help but give chase. If there was a treasure, he wasn’t sure her penchant for rushing head-on into potential trouble would be the wisest course.
The stairwell was lit as brightly as the one that had taken them up to the first rooftop. Vash’s hurried footsteps echoed off the walls. “Vash! Wait for me!”
Her steps did not slow as Picard continued the chase. It was juvenile and childish but, in its own way, fun. To rush forward without thought, without care, was something he needed to do more often in his life.
Halfway down the staircase he realized his footsteps were the only ones to be heard. It was impossible that Vash had reached ground level. She hadn’t gotten that much of a head start.
“Vash?” he called out.
This time she answered: “I’m okay. Just ran into something you should see.”
Picard picked up his pace, reaching her after another two floors. She stood over the remains of what looked to be a pair of bodies long since dead.
It was little more than a heap of bones and faded worn cloth leaning against the door. As if the people it had once been had died trying to get in. Picard tried the door. It was locked, like the others they had encountered inside the first building.
“I nearly tripped over them,” Vash said. “What do you think happened?”
“I assume that answer can be found on the other side of the door,” Picard suggested.
Vash leaned over the rail, looking down. “We’re only one floor from the ground.”
“I thought you wanted to know what happened to these people,” Picard said.
“Archaeologists could spend months here learning the individual stories on this planet,” Vash said. “Years. If we focus on finding the treasure, there will be time to come back and do that.”
“Possibly what’s on the other side of this door will help with that,” Picard suggested.
“A random door in a random building in a deserted town?” Vash said. “The odds are we’ll learn something interesting behind every door in this city. There’s only one mystery I want to solve, and I think we should keep to our original path.”
It was almost as likely they would find an answer in their planned destination, but Picard didn
’t argue. When traveling blindly, one option was as likely as another to prove fruitful.
They continued down the staircase together at a more cautious pace. The barricade blocking access to the lobby had already been broken through. It was probable the bodies they’d come across had been the cause. Debris was strewn beside the door.
Once they were through the lobby they saw that the barricade by the exterior door had also been pushed aside. This one was even less substantial than the one they’d encountered earlier. Picard shrugged it off as he held the door open for Vash. She led the way but nearly knocked into him, and she pushed her way back in.
“Shut the door,” she whispered.
Picard pulled the door closed and joined her peering through the glass. “What is it?”
“An old friend,” she said as they watched a pair of shapes in the shadowed street. “I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence that she’s here.”
* * *
“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Marie asked. She was pacing nervously in her living room. Beverly wished she could pace as well, or move or whatever, but she was trying to maintain a calm facade.
“No,” Crusher replied. “But it’s the only idea I’ve got.”
After speaking with a friend at Starfleet headquarters, Crusher had gone back to her room to dress. She’d checked in Picard’s room to see if he’d returned, not surprised to find it empty. No other clues to his whereabouts had presented themselves, but she grabbed the pith helmet and brought it with her in case she needed it. Not that she imagined what kind of usefulness it could possibly provide.
Jean-Luc will be fine, she assured herself as she sat on Marie’s sofa. There’s nothing to worry about. It was true that Q would likely not harm him. But this was not how she imagined spending the eve of her wedding. She was playing a dangerous game, inviting a player that was still an unknown quantity. If that player even accepted her invitation.
Marie looked at the clock. “What makes you think—”
The room was bathed in a bright flash of light as a woman appeared. She wore a couture outfit that Crusher could easily have seen in one of the shops in Paris: a gorgeous dress with faux feathers and metal shards that gave it a gentle yet dangerous look. In it, she would stand out in any crowd, but she looked absolutely ridiculous in Marie’s living room.
The woman held a hand out to Marie. “Doctor Beverly Crusher,” she said, with a nod of her head. “I’ve heard so much about you. Funny, I always pictured you younger.”
Crusher cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m Doctor Crusher. I assume you are—”
“Q,” the woman said as she pivoted with a forced smile. The light reflected off the metal shards, illuminating the feathers as she turned. “But you may call me Q.”
Crusher accepted her hand. “Thank you for coming.”
“How could I resist?” the woman replied. “A distress call sent out to me personally in three different star systems? You’ve got friends in faraway places. I left the party I was attending as soon as I heard. I do fear I may have left my travel companion in a bit of a lurch, but she’s proven capable of handling awkward situations in the past.” The woman sat on the couch. The metal shards of her dress dug into the upholstery.
Crusher had had to call in a few favors to get that message out to some of her more distant friends. Arranging subspace communication on the spur of the moment wasn’t as easy as tapping a combadge. If Will Riker ever found out that she’d intentionally left him out of the loop, there would be hell to pay in the future. But the last thing she needed was the Titan rushing back to Earth.
It had been a one-in-a-million chance, assuming the intended target would hear her message. But considering how Q himself seemed to be anywhere at any time, the odds had been in her favor.
The female Q looked over at Beverly. “I fear I’m overdressed.” She turned to Marie, who was still in her nightclothes. “Oh yes, I am definitely overdressed.” With the wink of an eye, her outfit shifted to something more casual that Beverly would have worn when not in uniform. “That’s better.”
It was better. If only because the metal shards were no longer cutting into Marie’s couch.
“Now,” the woman said. “What seems to be the cause of your distress?”
6
“I saw you, Vash! You can either come out and explain yourself, or we’re coming in! And you do not want us coming in there!”
“If she keeps yelling like that, she is going to attract those creatures,” Picard said.
“That would solve one problem,” Vash said.
Picard eyed her suspiciously. “I thought you said she was a friend.”
Vash tilted her head to the side, considering her words. “More like an acquaintance. We had a few run-ins in the Gamma Quadrant.”
Picard nodded. Vash did not play well with others. He suspected that she had similar acquaintances in three of the four quadrants of space. Q had given her a chance to complete the set with the Delta Quadrant . . . if that was, in fact, where they were.
“What did you do this time, Vash?” the woman called out. “And what will it take for me to undo it?”
The woman had stopped her approach, staying toward the middle of the street. Picard could not make out much through the clouded glass, but he saw enough of their shadows to see that the pair was humanoid in appearance. He could also see that the woman’s traveling companion was ominously tall and somewhat hulking.
“If the pack comes after her, we will be trapped in this building,” Picard pointed out. “Better to confront the acquaintance you know head-on than deal with any more surprises this planet has to offer.”
Vash sighed. “Always the logical one.”
She pushed the door open, holding her hands out in front of her to show that she was unarmed. Picard came out with her, adopting a similar pose.
The woman who had been yelling at Vash was of a race that Picard did not recognize. She was of average height for a humanoid, with short brown hair and some kind of tribal markings on her face. The markings were red, which stood out against her blue skin. As Picard got closer, he saw that they appeared to be tattoos rather than a natural occurrence.
The man by her side was unfamiliar to Picard, but his planet of origin was far more familiar. He was Nausicaan. And if the bulge in the shirt at his belt was any indication, Q had not dropped them off on the planet without a weapon, as he had Picard and Vash.
“Burinda, I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.” Vash moved into the street, stopping with a meter between her and the pair. Picard did the same.
“That’s likely!” Burinda bellowed, her voice echoing down the empty streets. “This is exactly the type of thing you and that partner of yours would be up to.”
“Well, you’re right that this is Q’s doing,” Vash replied. She kept her voice soft in what Picard suspected was a vain attempt to bring Burinda down some in volume. “But I’m just as much a pawn in this as you are.”
“Ha!” the woman burst out. “I’ve never known you to be anyone’s pawn.”
“Might I suggest we keep our voices at a neutral level,” Picard suggested. “We are not alone in this city.”
The Nausicaan said nothing but grunted in what Picard could only assume was agreement. Burinda didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “And who are you?”
“Jean-Luc is a dear friend,” Vash replied. “And your partner here?”
“Goztik,” the Nausicaan said.
“He’s not very chatty,” Burinda added. “And although he and I have crossed paths in the past, he is not my partner. You know as well as anyone that I work alone. Now, why are we here?”
“Long story,” Vash said. “And I’m afraid it wouldn’t make much sense anyway.”
Jean-Luc heard the now familiar growl of the creatures in the distance. They were still a ways off but likely closing in fast. He leaned over to Vash. “It’s time to take this inside.”
Vash didn’t reply immediately. Clear
ly she was weighing her options other than bringing their new friends to the domed building with them.
Picard knew there wasn’t time to debate the issue. “We’re heading for that building down the street,” he said, with a nod in the direction of their objective. “The creatures on this planet are quite aggressive. I suggest continuing this conversation indoors.”
Burinda eyed him with suspicion before relenting. “Lead the way.”
Picard did not like having his back to people he didn’t know or trust. He liked it even less when he considered that one of them was likely armed. But unless someone went first, he suspected that they would stand in the middle of the street until the pack fell on them. He just had to believe that Vash had his back, both figuratively and literally, should anything happen. None of the others were about to volunteer to take the lead.
The growling became louder as they reached the building. Either it was the same pack of creatures or a whole new group. The captain wasn’t sure if they were nocturnal animals, but the sun was beginning to set, and he did not wish to experience any new dangers.
Through the heavy glass doors they could see a stack of chairs blocking their entrance. The barricade was even less formidable than the one he and Vash had encountered earlier. It was short work for Picard and Goztik to push their way into the building. It actually took them longer to block the door again, hoping to keep the animals out. There was no clear locking mechanism, and the doors merely swung on a hinge. A simple push had opened them.
“Trusting people,” Burinda commented on the door before turning her attention to the lobby. They had been right: The building was a museum. At least that was the impression it gave.
The atrium ran the height of the building, opening up to the edge of the glass dome. Several floors or levels were stacked one above the other in concentric circles, each growing smaller until they reached the dome. It reminded Picard of a toy he’d once seen his nephew René enjoying as a young child: a series of rings placed one atop the other in order of greatest diameter to least.