by Various
The moment Picard passed the threshold, the door began to seal itself and he caught the modulated, cooler air, for which he was thankful. She did not pause and continued down the corridor, which was devoid of decoration and was mostly silver and metallic. Again, he heard no noise and without markings, was fairly convinced he would be lost once he got deeper within the complex.
They walked on in silence for several minutes and Picard kept his counsel, studying her movements, caught up in the thrill of the moment. After all, he had studied die Iconians for many years, was considered Starfleet's expert on the long-gone race, and here was a chance to see them in all their glory. At least he hoped it was glory, since that would mean their culture was preserved, which in turn might let him solve the problem back home.
She finally turned left, going down a similar corridor, but after less than a minute extended her left arm once more and a door opened. Everything seemed well maintained given the utter silence of the mechanics.
The room he found himself in was immense, with a gigantic viewscreen directly before him. On the screen was the gateway found on Doral's flagship; he could see a Klingon sentry keeping guard. No one else was in sight. To his right was a bank of color-coded computer controls that seemed similar to the ones he found on Iconia some years earlier. To his left were long benches, and seated on them were five others, two more women and three men, all in similar maroon clothing. The cuts were different, as were the jeweled headpieces that all five wore atop their heads. Each also had tattoos of similar design, but theirs were purple, to her red.
"Captain Picard, you have arrived here when we sought to stay apart from galactic society," a woman on the bench said. Her voice was deeper than her colleague's, he noted.
"If you are truly the Iconians, then you know it is your technology we seek to control, to stop what others have begun," Picard explained.
"It has not been in use in a very long time," one of the men said.
"Impressive, is it not?" the woman beside him asked.
The first woman turned to him, her eyes showing concern. "What has gone wrong? The gateways function."
Picard cleared his throat and succinctly explained how the Petraw found the technology and sought to sell it to further their personal goal of extending their empire. They knew enough to turn on the entire network but not how to shut it down or even program direction. As a result, the unchecked access had resulted in widespread trouble, even loss of life.
"You have a bright people," the woman said. "We have studied you since the first gateway was activated in many hundreds of years. Your response has been, in the past, to blow up our technology."
The captain inwardly winced at the realization. The first gateway that had been discovered, on a Kalandan outpost a century ago, was destroyed by Spock on the Enterprise. The gateways found on Iconia, Alexandra's Planet, and Vandros IV had all been destroyed as well, by Picard, Elias Vaughn, and Benjamin Sisko, respectively. He could see their point.
"If you have studied us" he replied, "then you know such destruction is a last choice. We would much rather simply turn them off, preserving your legacy."
"Yes, we have seen that," one of the men said. He couldn't tell which since they seemed remarkably similar in appearance. At best, the cut of clothing was the only major difference he could tell. Men and women alike kept their hair long, tied neatly behind their heads.
"When the first gateway was used by these Petraw," the woman closest to Picard said, "it activated an alarm here. We had no idea what it meant - it has been so long since the last such alert - but we finally figured out that it meant our equipment was in use. Our leader at the time had to consult the computer records to find out what the alarm signified and what we were to do."
"We were formed," the final man on the bench said. He stood and gestured to the six Iconians in the room. "We are the Sentries, gathered when our equipment is in use. Our laws say we are to monitor the use, record the species that employ the gateways, and watch."
"Watch for what?" Picard asked.
"Watch for incursion," the man replied. "We left your space to be on our own, to pursue new interests and not to be bothered."
Picard frowned at the answer. The Iconians built their empire, invented technology far beyond their peers, and just walked away from it all? What could they be building now?
"The use of the entire network was something none of us had witnessed before," a woman said. "We were intrigued to see what would happen, all you people flitting here and there like insects drawn to nectar."
"Ships, peoples, things, it all moved back and forth with no one harnessing the equipment to its fullest potential," the woman beside her said.
"You've just watched people steal, people die?"
Picard was incredulous and found an anger building within him he wanted to avoid. The last thing he wanted was to be mad at the people he had longed to meet.
"Our laws say we are to watch, remain vigilant in case we were threatened," a man said. "We obey our laws here."
Picard approached them and no one moved. He glanced at the viewscreen and saw nothing had changed there either.
"I am sworn to protect my people and I need your help to do that. I need to know how to shut down the entire network."
The five seated Iconians looked from one to another, either silently communing or totally lost Picard prayed it wasn't the latter. He noted they looked to the woman to his right, who shifted her feet.
"The laws are vague about helping other species," she admitted.
"Are you six speaking for your people?" the captain demanded.
"We have very little need for governance," she said. "As it is, there have been gaps in the information flow. I think we can help you. While I should not speak for the others, I have personally been intrigued by how you and your ships help more than hurt."
The others remained silent and still, not agreeing or disagreeing with the opinion. Picard had expected something different from these people and wanted to keep his disappointment private.
"If I shut down the gateways, won't that enable you to return to your ... studies?"
"Yes it would," one man said, almost with glee.
"Then help me, please," he said.
The woman walked over to the console of controls, flipped four cobalt-blue buttons, and waited. Information streamed across a panel and she read for a moment, activated a control, and read some more. She seemed to be seeking information and while she did so, everyone, even Picard, remained quiet. There was an aloofness to these people that disturbed him. He was certain these six had never spoken to an off-worlder and his presence probably made them nervous or annoyed. He could not be sure at all.
"The computer records show we do not have the control mechanism here," she said matter-of-factly.
Picard was stunned but kept his silence. He wanted to force her to speak, to provide more information. After several tense moments, she began again.
"It seems our ancestors left the controlling device on the last world we visited before settling here. I wonder why." She paused, thoughtful, then continued. "The records refer to a Master Resonator, but I can access no details. We can send you to that world to seek the device."
Now she fell silent and the captain absorbed the disheartening news. He had come a great way to seek these people and they seemed far from enlightened, far from human in their interactions. Maybe they were closer to the title "demons of air and darkness" than he ever wanted to admit.
"Do the records say what I am to do with the device?"
She shook her head, but one of the other women spoke up. "The gateways are attuned to one another, so I have believed that the Resonator can be inserted into any control panel and close down the entire system."
Picard nodded at the logic behind having an emergency cutoff switch; the principle made sense. "And once I find the Master Resonator, how do I return to my ship?"
"Through a gateway, of course," said the standing woman. It seemed such a s
imple answer, really, and her look betrayed her surprise at the question. Picard once more felt anger at the situation.
"Why did you leave our region?"
The woman looked at Picard blankly and she turned to the others. A man stood, the one with the largest tattoo on his face. He spoke up to cover the distance. "Our presence threatened to tamper with the natural order on too many worlds. Such changes were not always welcome ones, as I understand it. A change of heart, a change of government... something made our people stop and reconsider our presence. As a result, we migrated across space, until we reached here. Since then, we have abandoned contact with other people, concentrating on studying realms our gateways could not reach."
In his mind's eye, Picard recalled the devastation he found on Iconia, and Data's analysis that the planet had been attacked. He wondered if these descendants knew of the attack and might actually not have had a choice but to leave. The notion of other realms also caught his attention. Could they have meant time and space - piercing the dimensions and centuries? The mind boggled at the notion of such power - especially in the hands of a people that did not display any moral compass.
"We are merely sentries, Captain Picard," the woman said. "We watch and protect our people. You have a charter that obligates you to protect others. I find that admirable and will help you find the item you need. But after that, we will once again merely watch."
The man spoke up again. "If you can, Captain, please do not destroy the remaining gateways. Our history has shown that our people have changed their minds now and then. I would hate to deprive us of the option of coming home."
Picard looked at them and realized that they were out of their element. Nothing prepared them for first contact, nothing taught them what to do on the day another race stepped foot on their planet. However great the Iconians were two hundred thousand years in the past, these people were far removed from them. Whatever realities they studied kept them from the one they lived in and they were clueless how to act.
His anger dissipated and all he felt was pity.
"I cannot waste time," Picard said. "If I am to seek this Master Resonator, then send me."
One of the other men rose and walked to the console. He labored over the controls, constantly consulting the screen, as if he were being fed directions. They seemed not to know their own equipment and tools, Picard noted.
Minutes ticked by and everyone remained in now uncomfortable silence. Finally, the man seemed done and turned back to the group. "I have found the world. Captain, I am not sure I speak for all, but for myself, I wish you luck. I, too, do not want to see these gateways destroyed. It might be nice to visit new-found ... friends."
At least one of the others seemed embarrassed by the sentiment and one remained stonily silent, but the others nodded in agreement A gateway formed in the room, with no apparent generating device. Merely a rip in reality, large enough for one man to enter - just like the gateway on Iconia that Picard had used a decade earlier. There was one location in sight: a lush, green world, not dissimilar to the one they stood on.
Picard nodded toward the Iconians, not sure of what to say. Of all the meetings he dreamed about, this was not among them. The thrill of meeting these idols was muted by the reality and it was a disappointment. And a lesson to be learned about idol worship.
Without a backward glance, Picard once more stepped into the gateway.
Chapter 2
"Message from Admiral Ross," Data said.
"On screen."
"Commander Riker, have we heard from the captain?" Clearly Ross was anxious for some good news.
"Not at all, sir." Riker wished for word from his friend, too, but at least was closer to the action. He could busy himself with monitoring forty-eight potentially lethal ships and maintaining a fragile alliance where the now long-gone Gorn had already betrayed them once.
"Damn" was all the admiral would say. After all, he remained on Earth and could merely absorb reports from the fleet, most of which were of a catastrophic nature. All in all, Riker was glad to be on the Enterprise.
"How go things back home," Riker asked, knowing full well that it would not be pleasant.
"We've achieved a holding action, which is better than being deluged," Ross admitted. While not quite a victory, it was the first positive news in too many hours. "We have some news from Deep Space 9. The Orions are officially out of the bidding, at least, and they managed to successfully evacuate Europa Nova. Unfortunately, it looks like Colonel Kira may have been lost."
Riker winced. He had only met the Bajoran woman a few times, but he'd been impressed with what he saw. The commander also knew that Ross had great respect for her.
"We're still waiting for word from the Excalibur and the Trident, but I can't get them to tell me everything."
"Captain Calhoun is known for his unorthodox methods," Riker said dryly.
"That's just it. I'm beginning to think that neither Calhoun nor Shelby are aboard their respective ships, but I can't get them to tell me where they are."
A moment was all it took for the realization to hit the first officer. "You think they entered a gateway and are lost, don't you?"
Ross's silence confirmed the worst for Riker. Before either could speak, Lieutenant Vale interrupted. "There's a message from Desan coming in on the other channel."
"Back to your duty, Commander," Ross said, and the screen blinked once and his hangdog look was replaced by the more attractive visage of the Romulan commander.
"How can I help you, Commander?" Riker asked, leaning back in the command chair. It would never be comfortable, he realized. Not with his friend missing in action.
"Why are we rigging a simultaneous connection among all the Petraw vessels?"
Riker blinked. She looked unhappy about the matter and he matched her mood. It wasn't something he had assigned.
"News to me," Riker began, when he heard the turbolift doors slide open. Before he could turn around, the heavy footsteps were a clear signal.
"Are we not to be consulted?" thundered Captain Grekor, leader of the Klingon delegation.
"Listen to me, both of you, I didn't order anything of the sort and we're going to take a moment and figure this out. Commander, tell me what you know."
"We received a Starfleet communique informing us to participate in rigging all forty-eight ships with a single link, to remain on an open channel. The message gave us an hour to comply."
Riker nodded and looked at the very unhappy Grekor, who nodded in agreement with the message. His stance showed he was pretty angry, feet firmly planted deep into the bridge's carpet, arms crossed before his chest, which rose and fell quickly.
"Lieutenant, did we issue such a order?"
Vale scanned one end of the tactical station to the other before responding. Of course, she found nothing.
"Raise Captain Brisbayne, please," Riker said, trying to sound polite, but betraying the anger in his tone.
Carter Brisbayne, captain of the wounded starship Mercury, appeared on the screen after a matter of moments. He seemed restless, like everyone else, and he had every right to be. On approaching the Petraw ships, they took heavy fire and were left limping in space, possibly irreparable.
"Did you issue an order, Captain?"
He stiffened at Riker's tone, and directed himself at the camera. "God damn right I did, Commander," he replied.
"Captain Picard left me in command of this group, Captain, and with all due respect, I ask that you honor those wishes."
"You can have this 'fleet,' but we are not going to get caught with our pants down."
Riker shifted in the chair, as it seemed to get more uncomfortable by the minute. "Explain."
"By maintaining an open link, we can avoid sabotage and surprise," the older captain said. "If just one thing goes amiss on one ship, we all know immediately - or if one ship cuts the signal, we can spot the problem. I'm not one for waiting."
Riker stroked his stubbly chin and saw that the explanati
on, while sensible, did not mollify the Klingon. He couldn't easily let Brisbayne off the hook.
"Everyone is here voluntarily, Captain," Riker said evenly. "We do not hand out orders while at yellow alert. If you want to make further useful suggestions, we must all be consulted. Riker out."
The first officer rose to address Grekor, who remained immobile. It was a good sign that he came alone; there would be no "honor" to defend before his own crew. Riker had the advantage but didn't feel the need to press it.
"He acted on his own authority, but the thinking is sound. I suggest we complete the task, backing up the crew we have on the Petraw ships. Such a breach of protocol won't happen again, Captain. You have my word on it."