A Time to Love

by Robert Greenberger

  Chkarad sadly shook his head. Picard felt for the man, who was clearly not cut out to be a leader.

  “When can the counselor visit the three remaining subjects? It’s imperative we explore every avenue.”

  “Now is as good a time as any,” Chkarad said.

  “Counselor, have yourself and Mr. Williams beamed over to the facility. Do not have any physical contact, is that understood?”

  Troi’s eyes glittered, and she gave him a tight smile. “Absolutely. We’ll be fine.” She gestured to Williams, who had been leaning his lanky frame against a wall, one boot up and flat against the surface. He nodded and walked over to her. She contacted the starship and within seconds the two vanished from sight. Picard envied them, to a degree.

  “How can the Federation stop this?”

  “My doctor is working to determine the cause, you know that,” Picard said.

  “What can we do, Speaker?” an older Bader asked.

  “That, Cholan of Huni, is something we need to settle, and quickly, I would imagine,” Chkarad said solemnly.

  “Fine sentiments,” Picard said. “But you need actions to back them up.”

  Picard found it odd that even some of the most basic steps seemed beyond the government. The reports indicated these were highly advanced people, but the reality seemed far from that.

  “Our medics have found nothing.”

  “Do they even know what to look for?” Picard asked.

  “They’re trained, aren’t they?”

  The conversation was deteriorating as wounded pride clouded better judgment, and Picard once more felt stymied because the people preferred talk to action. What he had not noticed was that other clusters of people spoke among themselves, ignoring the Speaker’s group, and suddenly the discussions began to get louder.

  “Martial law should be ordered,” a female Dorset said.

  “Absolutely not,” countered a Bader male.

  “We need to contain this, and sending people home is the only way,” called another.

  “And that would close the stores, stop the shipping of supplies, and incite more fear than is necessary,” a woman countered.

  “An economy can be rebuilt. We can’t animate the dead!”

  “Dead! You expect more murders?”

  “If you cannot contain this, more people will die,” Morrow interjected.

  Chkarad turned to Picard, a pained look in his eyes. The captain felt pity for him, a man out of his element, but shoved that aside and concentrated on the need to govern the planet. Once more he beckoned the Speaker aside and stepped close so no one else could hear him. Morrow and Troi had picked up on the action and positioned themselves to block the other councillors from coming closer.

  “A starship captain is used to adversity,” Picard said softly, but with firm conviction. “I am trained to react quickly when circumstances demand. I recognize that’s different from running a planet. There are towns, cities, states, regions, and even two races trying to coexist here. Until recently, you have never been asked to take drastic action to secure the planet’s safety.

  “I recognize the difficult time you are all having. I am sympathetic, and the Enterprise is committed to staying and helping as best we can. But we are not here to run the planet for you. The people elected the Council to lead, and you were elected the Speaker to lead the Council. Earn that trust and provide a vision and a voice. Lead the people away from violence and buy us the time we need to find the cause of this outbreak. Stop the fear any way you know how. It might be martial law, it might be more stringent work conditions. I don’t know this planet. You do. Use that unique knowledge and put it to work.

  “It’s growing late, and I am returning to the Enterprise. I’ll be back in the morning after I tend to the running of my ship.”

  He turned away from them and walked over to where Morrow was waiting. The ambassador pantomimed polite applause, earning another disapproving look from the captain.

  “Are you really needed back on the ship?”

  “No, but if I remain, they will either continue to point blame at the Federation or increasingly look to us for the leadership they need to provide themselves.”

  “But you yourself just said this is beyond their experience,” Morrow protested.

  “Yes. But as I told Chkarad a little while back, leaders act. Right now, they can’t even get that far, right or wrong.”

  “I thought the people were successful running the planet.”

  “As did I,” Picard admitted. “Something deeper than a murder has affected the people to the core of their being.”

  “Actually, two murders. If you don’t mind, Captain, I’d like to stay and observe,” Morrow said. “I promise not to run the planet until you return.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, Ambassador. You will not be this generation’s John Gill.”

  Picard turned to beckon for Carmona when the ambassador added with a grin, “Of course not. He was a professor, I’m a diplomat.”

  Ignoring the joke, Picard addressed the lead security officer. “Lieutenant Vale will be sending relief shortly, Ensign. Keep the building secure and keep the councillors from committing homicide. Use any means short of sitting on them.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be dignified at all,” Morrow quipped.

  “Enterprise, this is Picard. One to beam up.”

  Picard headed for a safe part of the stage to beam back to the starship. As the transporter effect took hold of him, Morrow spotted the reproving look cross Picard’s face.

  Seer’s dusty flyer landed amid towering stalks of something purplish, and Riker thought it looked wonderful. The sun was already low on the horizon, painting the clouds with golden hues. Seer had already explained that everything they could see from the landing spot belonged to one family, an inheritance dating back to one of the first Dorset settlers.

  “In another few weeks, the grains will be ready for harvest and then stored for the winter,” Seer explained as they climbed out of the craft.

  Riker knelt and ran his hand through the loamy soil, trying to recall the last time he had a chance to actually enjoy a planet. He knew exactly how many worlds he had visited since graduating from the Academy; it was something he liked to keep track of. But the ones he actually got to know well, that was a much smaller number.

  “This is one of the oldest establishments on the planet,” Seer said. He led Riker toward a narrow, long, one-story building with a high-tech weather vane located on the roof. “The people here pride themselves on that. Recently they’ve developed some new hybrid grain from Bader and Dorset plants. This farm is the first to try it out. The grain is called Unity, and the yield is expected to be nearly twice that of normal grains.”

  “Very symbolic,” Riker said.

  “Yes. Which is why they had journalists swarming all over the place.”

  They arrived at the front porch, a wooden platform that was just one step off the ground. Four chairs were arranged artfully on either side of the door, with an elaborately carved wooden table to the right of the door. A pitcher of something sat on the table, with six blue glasses carefully arranged in a semicircle around the refreshment. It was clear they were expected.

  Confirming Riker’s observation, the door smoothly slid open and an older woman appeared, wiping her hands on a towel and smiling a welcome. She seemed to Riker to be in fine health. A hand shot out from behind her and an excited teen emerged.

  “You must be from the Enterprise! I’m Col Mander Col and this is our farm.”

  Riker broke into a happy smile and shook the hand, pleased not to be in any danger for a change. “Will Riker, first officer,” he replied. The rank seemed to impress the teen.

  “And I’m his mother, Col Meryn Col,” the woman said in a reedy voice that indicated advancing years. “Welcome to our farm. Welcome, Seer of Anann.”

  “Welcome to you,” he replied formally. “Is Col Hust Col about?”

  “Still bedding down the animals,” s
he replied. “After what happened today, well, we’re all backed up on chores. Please, have a seat, both of you.” She gestured to two of the chairs opposite the table and the men sat. The chairs were wooden, rough-hewn but worn in spots from years of use. There was a definite sense of peace here; it was an oasis compared to what Riker had witnessed elsewhere on Delta Sigma IV. With a nod, she sent the teen off for his father. As he ran off, kicking up bits of dirt, she sat and began pouring drinks for the men.

  “We brew this ale right on the farm,” she explained as she handed out the glasses. “In fact, it’s what Mander has been specializing in, learning from his grandfather.”

  The liquid was thick, cool, and delicious, Riker judged after one sip. He also detected the potency of the alcohol in the ale and disappointedly concluded that he would have to nurse the one glass, given his empty stomach and his growing exhaustion. This would have to be the final stop for the day.

  “He’s doing his family credit,” Seer said, allowing himself a healthy swallow. Riker felt jealous.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Riker asked. “We’ve only heard sketchy reports on our flight.”

  Meryn sat back and considered the question, summoning up memories of the events of a few weeks past. “Hust saw everything. I came around after things started happening.” She paused and looked intently into Will’s eyes.

  “In all my days, never saw anything like it. My husband was repairing a fence over to the far edge of the property. He was working with three other men, chatting away with the reporter. One of the men said something in jest, but the reporter I guess didn’t see it as funny.”

  “Wasn’t that funny,” Col Hust Col said as he rounded a corner of the house. He was a husky man, his hair going from jet black to snow white in a stark fashion. His coverall was dusty but in good repair, and he clearly had stopped to wash his hands before greeting the visitors. As he approached, Meryn was already pouring him a cup of ale.

  “Not worth dying over anyways,” he added.

  Formal introductions were made, and then Hust held up the glass, aimed it at the sky, and took a large swallow. He then allowed himself to sit, refilling the ale to the top by himself.

  “As Meryn said, there were several of us around, but the man just lunged after Alin. They grappled a bit and then Alin’s spanner was in the man’s hand and…well, it happened.”

  They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, each absorbing the image and the information. Finally, Hust continued, “Meryn heard the commotion and called for help, but the man was long gone before the peace officers got here. We’re just a little too far from town for emergency help like that.

  “So anyways, Alin goes down, my other men scatter. Next thing I know, this human comes up the road, chasing after the reporter.”

  “That would be Kyle Riker, my father,” Will said. The others looked at him askance. Each took a sip and then sat silently.

  “Yes, Kyle Riker is just what the peace officer said. Remember?”

  “Sure do,” his wife said, sipping and letting him run the conversation.

  “The guy runs off, your father chases after him, and then they’re out of sight.”

  “And you…?”

  “Stayed to look after Alin. Tried to save his life, but his skull was caved in. No helping him at all.”

  Seer looked over at Will, a serious look on his features. “How did your father know to be here?”

  “Wish I knew,” Riker replied, slowly shaking his head in bewilderment.

  “We heard about Unoo’s death,” Meryn said. “Never thought it would happen again. They were all still locked away.”

  “We have no idea what happened,” Seer said, “and that is why Commander Riker and I are investigating. We hope to find the reporter, hopefully find Kyle Riker as well. Once we can talk to them, maybe examine them, we’ll know something.”

  “I understand that violence is very rare on this planet,” Riker said gently. “I’m very sorry you had to experience it at all.”

  “The war never came out this way, so we listened to the media reports,” Hust explained. “In fact, the war kind of helped our world. Once the fighting stopped, people were hungry and we had plenty of food stored. We managed to sell tons of food at a good profit. Used some of the profit for planetary improvements, research and the like, and then we farmers got a bonus. Let me build some new silos. Yeah, we’re doing just fine.”

  “How long was my father here?” Riker asked.

  Hust heard a sound Riker missed, looked around, and spotted Mander running back to them. Hust took another drink and set the cup down. “Don’t want to discuss this much around my boy, if it’s all right with you.”

  Seer and Riker immediately nodded in agreement.

  “Once we planted the Unity in one spot, Mander and I used the combine to plant about fourteen acres with the seed. Taking to the ground pretty well, I’ll tell you that. A good use of those profits I just mentioned. We’re one of the largest and most successful farms on this world. Never would have had a chance if my forefathers had stayed home.”

  “It’s getting dark, and we don’t want to keep you from your chores,” Seer said, standing. He had finished his drink, refused a refill, and seemed as alert as ever to Riker.

  “I think young Mander here has plenty of questions for the commander,” Meryn said with a laugh.

  “Walk me to the flyer,” Riker offered to the teen. The youth accepted eagerly and began to ply Riker with questions before the two were even out of earshot. Seer stayed behind to more formally thank the adults, and that was fine with Riker. The youth’s infectious enthusiasm would help carry him forward.

  Crusher paused at her quarters to change her uniform, take a quick shower, and brush out her hair. Looking in the mirror, she saw the darkness under each eye. She was used to working long hours, used to the emotional toll she had to pay to perform her duty, but she was starting to feel tired all the time. It wasn’t age or disease, just an accumulation of experiences building up in her psyche, much like the liscom gas in the Bader and Dorset blood.

  She shook her hair, letting it fall naturally over her shoulders. Zipping up the front of her uniform, she appreciated the way she managed to maintain good physical conditioning. Her overall physique had been given a brief boost by exposure to the natural environment of the Bak’u homeworld. The effect faded gradually with time, but it made her and everyone else from the command team feel good. Indeed, she felt as if she had taken a long leave of absence and come back to the starship thoroughly refreshed. And that did not discount the harrowing experience of helping the Bak’u people leave their village and go into hiding when their lives were threatened. Still, it was another successful mission with an unusual dividend.

  Slipping into her blue lab coat, she stole one more look in the mirror and declared herself fit for duty. She paused at her cabin’s replicator, ordered up a portable meal, and took it with her to sickbay. As she strolled through the corridors, she let her mind wander over the words, tone, and body language of the Dorset and Bader researchers. She considered herself a pretty good judge of character, but she regretted not having Deanna handy to confirm her suspicions. Clearly, these were dedicated professionals, but there was an uncomfortable undercurrent of hostility that filled the conference room. It wasn’t there when it was Wasdin, Dolog, and Cander, but it emerged clearly when Jama and Nassef were present. Jama was the more belligerent, but his mere presence seemed to annoy Wasdin. Additionally, he seemed annoyed with Nassef, a fellow Bader. Was it just a character trait or something more?

  Once in sickbay, Crusher checked in with the duty nurse, a tall, fair-haired woman named Susan Weinstein. They reviewed the activity, since Crusher had gone down to the planet, and she was relieved to hear there were few problems: an acid burn from a research lab, a maintenance worker’s deep cut and strained tendons from an overachieving ensign preparing for a triathlon competition on the holodeck. No patients were currently being kept in sic
kbay, which also made her feel good.

  Weinstein returned to her desk, singing some aria, filling the air with music. Crusher appreciated hearing a trained voice, although opera was not necessarily her favorite type of music. The nurse was a new arrival, replacing Nurse Lomax, who was killed at Dokaal by a Satarran agent, and Crusher had taken an immediate liking to her.

  Before sitting, Crusher took a moment to recycle the packaging from her meal, promised herself to have a real sit-down supper later, and activated her desktop terminal. She had downloaded the information from her tricorder to the main computer while still in her quarters and had the computer begin analyzing the new information. Now she took a close look at the blood work she personally took while on the planet. Sure enough, the amount of liscom in the blood was way beyond the baseline. From the original surveyors’ records, there was no liscom at all in the Bader or Dorset blood. A close study of the blood work taken during routine examinations the first few years showed trace amounts of liscom in the blood, but a growing presence. She had the computer graph the increase and then matched it to the changes in life expectancy.

  Sure enough, there was a correlation, but you had to really look for it to understand the cause and effect.

  She then made a study of the chromosomal structure of the Dorset from their arrival to the first study after the problem was noted. Crusher repeated the examination with the Bader records. The chromosomes were changing, but you’d have to look to notice since it didn’t affect anything overtly.

  Wasdin was right, from what Crusher could tell. Every blood sample she could access showed similar amounts of the liscom in the blood. And the liscom came from a form of plant life, so it was time to look at that. She’d need the ship’s resident botanist, a Bolian named Moq, for help.

  Opening the com system, Crusher called to the bridge and within seconds, Data’s voice filled her office.

  “Data, I need some atmospheric surveying done. Will that be a problem?”

  “No, I can task the lateral sensor array to the job. May I ask what you are looking for?”