STAR TREK THE NEXT GENERATION THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JEAN-LUC PICARD

by David A. Goodman

  As time went on, I learned whose opinions I could rely on and constructed a web of crewmen throughout the Stargazer who gave me a good gauge of where problems might arise. Along with Walker, Scully, Crusher, and Cheva, I relied on a junior officer working in the torpedo bay named Ensign Vigo, who seemed to trade in the most intimate levels of gossip and helped me avoid management difficulties with his extensive knowledge of the state of the crew. Ironically, the ship’s designated personnel officer, Lieutenant Felson, was too formal with me and seemed uncomfortable sharing what she considered unseemly personal details. The walkabouts also let me know where there were technological challenges, which we had in abundance.

  I became increasingly comfortable as captain of the ship, which in turn, made my crew more comfortable. With Laughton and Mazzara gone, the vessel was alive with a new atmosphere—I could see it as the crew went about their duties. I soon allowed myself the luxury of friendships. A trio of sorts formed: Walker Keel, myself, and, surprisingly, Jack Crusher. I began to identify with him; he was like a different version of me, as if the bookish intellectual I’d been in my youth had been encouraged, and I’d avoided becoming the ego-driven teenager whose arrogance almost got him killed.

  Stargazer moved into an unexplored region of the Alpha Quadrant. Much of our time was spent exploring systems with no sign of advanced technology, and over the next year or two we catalogued dozens of planets and countless forms of life. The ship, unlike the Reliant, had better scientific facilities, which Walker oversaw as part of his operations duties. I became quite proud of the work I was doing, and it went to my head. I fell into the trap early on that some starship captains had: I began to see myself as infallible.

  “The asteroid is 3.2 kilometers in diameter,” Crusher said. “It will strike the planet in less than a day.” We were in an uncharted system, formerly designated HD 150248, and discovered an asteroid on course to impact the fifth planet in orbit, Class M. I ordered a scan of the planet.

  * * *

  “That asteroid…” I didn’t have to finish the question. Everyone knew what I was asking.

  “It will exterminate all life on the planet,” Crusher said.

  “The poor inhabitants won’t even know what hit them,” Walker said.

  “Can we divert it?”

  “It’s too late,” Walker said. “Too close to the planet.”

  “Any signs of civilization?” I said.

  “Yes, primitive, fifth-century Earth equivalent, agrarian. Spread across the northern continent,” Walker said.

  “I want to take a look.” I could see that some of the bridge crew were uneasy at this suggestion. Walker stepped over to me.

  “Jean-Luc, it’s too dangerous,” he whispered.

  “We should have some record of this,” I said. “Some memory of who these people are.” Walker wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t going to disobey an order.

  * * *

  I had the transporter put me and the away team down on a hill overlooking a village and some surrounding farms. It was me, Cheva, and Jack Crusher. We hid at the edge of a vast forest, over 4,000 kilometers square, out of sight of the natives. Cheva scanned for possible approaches by native life, while Crusher and I used our recording binoculars to film some evidence of this civilization that was about to die.

  “They’re bipeds,” Crusher said. “The village seems to be some kind of fortress.”

  “No doubt,” I said, “providing temporary shelter in case of approaching enemy hordes.”

  “I think I found a farmer,” Crusher said. I looked where he was pointing and could see a stocky creature tilling the soil with some sort of plow.

  “Captain,” Cheva said, “picking up life signs approaching. We should go.”

  “Hey,” Crusher said, “he’s got an assistant.” I watched as the stocky creature was joined by another that looked very similar, only a good deal smaller.

  “Not an assistant,” I said. “A son.”

  “Assuming they’re male,” Cheva said. Her point was well taken, but I was lost in a memory. I was a child, following my father out in the vineyard, helping him plant the grapes. A few brief minutes, just my father and me—no Robert. I had forgotten there were such moments…

  “Sir,” Cheva said, “they’re closing in…” She indicated to the left of us a group of four of the local inhabitants, about 100 meters away. They carried spears, and moved cautiously toward us.

  “All right, let’s go,” I said. We stepped into the forest, and as Cheva had us beamed up, I watched through our recording binoculars as the farmer placed his child up on his shoulders.

  “We’ve got to do something,” I said. I could see from his expression that Walker had now decided I was certifiable.

  “Jean-Luc, it’s about to enter the atmosphere…”

  “We have a responsibility to try,” I said.

  “Sir,” Crusher said. “The Prime Directive specifically states we can’t interfere with the natural evolution of a society…”

  “It’s a captain’s prerogative to interpret the Prime Directive,” I said. “I don’t think it applies here. This society should have a chance to survive to evolve naturally.”

  “Mass extinctions play a large role in evolution,” Crusher said.

  “We’re not going to discuss this further,” I said. “I want to try to cut the asteroid into smaller pieces.”

  “If we’d gotten here a week ago, we might’ve had a shot. But now…”

  “Walker,” I said, “that’s an order.” I ordered an analysis of the asteroid and its possible weak spots and found myself growing optimistic that we would succeed. Crusher and Cheva targeted phasers and photon torpedoes.

  “Weapons locked,” Cheva said.

  “Fire,” I said. We watched on screen as Stargazer’s weapons tore into the large rock, breaking it up. Cheva aimed the weapons, slicing pieces into smaller and smaller chunks. Dust from the debris filled our view.

  “The debris is interfering with our targeting sensors,” Cheva said. “I can’t maintain a lock anymore…”

  We hadn’t done nearly enough to reduce the size of the asteroid. There were still too many large pieces that would cause catastrophic damage. If they hit land they would bring up enormous amounts of ash and dust, blocking out radiation from the sun and causing an “impact winter.” The global temperature would drop, causing a mass extinction. I stepped over to the weapons console.

  “Let me take over,” I said. Cheva quickly got up, and I sat at the console. I switched the targeting sensor off, brought up a real-time view of the debris, then opened the switch to fire the phasers and held it open. It was an excessive use of phaser power; I used it like a knife, slicing back and forth through the remaining pieces. Eventually, the Stargazer’s phasers powered down; I’d completely drained them.

  “You’ve done it, sir,” Crusher said. I went back to the captain’s chair and watched as the hundreds of pieces of asteroid began their descent through the atmosphere. There were some larger pieces, but nothing that would cause the catastrophic damage that the original would have. I was feeling quite proud of myself. I could see that Walker, however, wasn’t sharing my optimism.

  “The forest…” he said. I didn’t initially understand what he was implying. Walker then changed the viewscreen to feature this grand stretch of trees, and it dawned on me.

  From even a high orbit I could see flaming debris striking across the length and breadth of the 4,000 square kilometer woodland. Within minutes, a wall of flame stretched across and kept growing. I realized that it would have the same effect as if the asteroid had impacted whole: soot and ash from a fire that was impossible to extinguish would fill the atmosphere and block out the sun. The mass extinction would happen anyway.

  A species would die that I’d felt I had gotten to know through one moment of joy between a father and son.

  * * *

  “Sensors are picking up a ship,” Walker said.

  “Let’s see it,” I said. On
the viewer, a small, scout-sized craft. Its engines were forward of the ship, and the general shape of it reminded me of a hammerhead shark. It was drifting, plasma leaking from one of its engines.

  “Two life signs,” Walker said. “Unknown species, but if they’re oxygen breathers they’re in trouble. I’m reading minimal life support.”

  “Hail them,” I said.

  “No response, sir,” Black said. I did not have a lot of experience dealing with adversarial situations, but I was on guard. Despite the apparent helplessness of the vessel, its design appeared predatory.

  “Shields up, Mr. Crusher,” I said. “Then move us in closer.” The Stargazer moved within a few hundred meters. There was no change in the other ship. I told Black to put me on a hailing frequency.

  “Unidentified ship, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Stargazer, we stand ready to assist.” I waited, still no answer.

  “Sir, it’s possible they don’t understand us,” said Crusher. “Our universal translator works by comparing frequencies of brainwave patterns, or by processing language that it’s hearing. If the aliens are unconscious, it’s possible the universal translator doesn’t have enough information to translate your hail.”

  “And if they haven’t developed the universal translator yet,” I said, continuing his thought, “they’re hearing gibberish.” There was, however, no way to prove this was what was happening. The ship could still be laying some sort of trap.

  “I advise caution, sir,” Cheva said. “The damage and radiation signatures seem consistent with the ship being in proximity to an exploding impulse engine. I’d say they’ve seen some action.” Though she echoed my concern, I was still left with no choice.

  “Bridge to Dr. Ailat, report to the transporter room.” I couldn’t bring the survivors on board without knowing who they were, but I also couldn’t ignore people possibly in distress. “Cheva, Crusher, you’re with me. Number One, drop shields long enough to beam us over.”

  “Sir, may I remind the captain…”

  “I know, I’m not supposed to go on away missions,” I said. “But I’m going.” Walker had given up fighting me on this. The captain was supposed to stay on the bridge, and the first officer was supposed to lead the away missions. But I had only served as a first officer for a little over a month, so I still enjoyed the hands-on experience.

  Dr. Ailat, Cheva, Crusher, and I beamed over to the small scout vessel. We found the two crewmen, both unconscious, with lacerations and burns. They had pronounced ridges on their heads and neck, giving them an almost reptilian look. They wore matching armor; they were definitely part of a military. Ailat scanned them.

  “They are alive, though their internal systems are unfamiliar,” she said.

  “Can you help them?”

  “I believe so,” Ailat said. “Their unconsciousness seems to have been caused by severe concussions.”

  “That would be consistent with the damage to the craft,” Cheva said.

  “Very well,” I said. I had Dr. Ailat beamed back with the two survivors, while Crusher, Cheva, and I continued to examine the ship. It was very small; there was only one crew quarter, presumably for the commander—it had framed medals on the wall. There was a bridge and an engineering compartment. Every other available bit of space was used for storage.

  We then set out to understand the workings of their machinery. The language of the control panels was unfamiliar, but our scans of the systems told us they were consistent with a level of technology close to our own. This is where my background in archaeology was helpful; I’d been taught by Professor Galen how to translate ancient languages of lost civilizations by finding a key. If said civilization had a developed understanding of mathematics and science, all you needed was to find some written example of a constant, like pi or the speed of light, or even better the periodic table of elements, and with the help of a computer the whole language could be deciphered. This was much simpler on a spaceship with advanced equipment scanning the heavens around it.

  “Sir, I think I found something.” Crusher was looking at a display. “This is measuring radiation… see, there’s the Stargazer’s engines, and that graph there must be background radiation.” He was right, and we were able to use this as a basis for our language key. Once we could translate the displays, we would be able to make a determination of damage to the ship. Cheva, meanwhile, was taking stock of the armaments and defensive capabilities, as well as examining their handguns. Their energy weapons were less technologically advanced but quite durable and probably very deadly (there didn’t seem to be a stun setting).

  We then returned to the Stargazer. Walker met us at the transporter room,

  and the two of us then went to sickbay to see to our guests, who were awake. Two security guards stood by the door.

  “I am Glinn Hovat,” one of them said. The universal translator had had enough time to translate their spoken language. The posture and bearing of this being told me he was in command; what helped to confirm it was that his companion did not attempt to speak. What I’d seen on the other ship—their weapons and medals indicating a martial philosophy—made me suitably wary of them.

  “I’m Captain Jean-Luc Picard,” I said. “You’re aboard the Federation ship Stargazer.”

  “I demand you release us immediately,” Glinn Hovat said, “or you will face serious consequences.”

  “You are not our prisoners,” I said.

  “Oh?” Glinn Hovat said. “The presence of the guards would indicate otherwise.” I smiled; this was a shrewd man. I could tell from the aggressiveness of his remarks that he was testing me and my resolve.

  “Glinn Hovat, forgive me,” I said, “but I am forced to take precautions. That includes not letting strangers have free run of my ship.”

  “What is the status of my vessel?”

  “Life support is still operational,” I said. “But our unfamiliarity with your systems and language make it difficult to tell the extent of the damage.” I was lying to him, in an effort to gain some advantage. But it was clear I was failing; this man didn’t believe a word I was saying. “Can you tell me what happened to it?”

  “Captain… Picard was it? You are strangers to us, and you understand I am forced to take precautions. That includes not telling you events that may be classified.” He was throwing my cautious attitude back at me, and I would now get nowhere with him. I had begun badly, and now there was no way back.

  “Well, yes, but…” I fumbled, trying to find some way to keep him talking, but he wasn’t interested.

  “Thank you for rescuing us, but if you will allow us to leave, we must return to our ship.” I turned to Ailat, hoping the plea in my expression would tell her I wanted them to stay longer, but she either didn’t read it or didn’t care.

  “I would recommend rest,” Ailat said, “but they appear to have recovered from their wounds.”

  “Very well,” I said. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do for you?”

  “Yes,” he said, after a brief pause, “I’d like a glass of water.”

  “A… glass of…?”

  “Your doctor was kind enough to give me one earlier, and I’d like another.” I don’t know why this seemed like a very strange request, but it was. There was no reason to refuse. Dr. Ailat didn’t wait for my permission; she went to the wall replicator, made the request, and a glass of water appeared. I noticed Hovat watching intently as Ailat brought it back to him. He took a healthy sip, and then asked to be taken back to his ship.

  A few hours later on the bridge, we watched on the viewscreen as the small ship’s engines came back online.

  “Those guys must have been working nonstop,” Walker said. “The damage report you brought back was pretty extensive.”

  “The place was packed with spare parts,” Cheva said.

  “Why would they carry so many spare parts?” Walker said. “If they had replicators, much of what they’d need…”

  “Wait,” I said.
“Did you notice a replicator?”

  “Oh,” Cheva said. “No, you’re right, I didn’t.” We’d missed an important piece of information in taking stock of that ship. Then I looked at Walker.

  “You remember the glass of water?” Walker realized what I was getting at.

  “He wasn’t thirsty, he wanted to see the replicator in action again.” We turned and looked at the screen. The ship moved away and leapt to warp.

  “If that’s the case,” Crusher said, “then they’re very dangerous.”

  “What do you mean, Mr. Crusher?”

  “Replicator technology eliminated need on planet Earth,” Crusher said. “A lot of exploration previous to the invention of the replicator was about the hunt for resources. That invention more than any other helped make us a peaceful society.”

  “And without one,” I said, “a society might be more aggressive.”

  “They’d have to be,” Crusher said. “Without replicators, space travel is very expensive. And resources are never freely given by anyone.” The message was clear to everyone in the room. We may just have discovered a new adversary. I was constantly impressed with Jack Crusher’s view of the Galaxy. It challenged me to be more thoughtful. I was lucky to have him in my crew.

  “Did they ever tell us the name of their species?” Walker said. We never asked them because Crusher had discovered it while searching the ship.

  “Those medals framed on a wall in the quarters,” Crusher said. “I translated the inscriptions. They all read: ‘For the glory of Cardassia.’ They’re Cardassians.”

  * * *

  “Go and talk to her,” I said to Jack Crusher. He, Walker, and I sat at a bar on Sigma Iotia II. Across the room was a young woman around Crusher’s age, sipping an elaborate cocktail and occasionally looking our way. The bar was called The Feds, and the woman, as well as everyone else in the place, was in a 23rd-century Starfleet uniform, or a close approximation of one. In fact, just about everyone on the planet was dressed that way. And none of them were actually in Starfleet.