by Various
The light show changed once more as one after another, the alien words faded from view one site at a time. When the graphic cleared, the purple lights began to wink off, again one at a time. It seemed that the graphic was deconstructing itself. Perhaps it meant the link was being broken - that the gateway network was shutting down.
Picard's eyebrows rose in surprise as the lights shifted, pulsating a bit, and then a face greeted him. He did not recognize the human features, but it structurally matched the Iconians he had met, what, days ago? It was a placid, female countenance and seemed to be waiting, much like Picard and the other members of the unusual coalition.
It spoke, but in a language Picard had never heard before. After a sentence, it seemed to wait for a reply.
Then it tried again, this time with another language. Again the silent wait and again another language. Picard let out a breath, hoping it would reach a language he knew. Wisely, he held out his tricorder and recorded the exchange, hoping it would help linguists at Starfleet Command. Minutes slipped by and he tried to retain his good humor but it was growing first frustrating, then irritating that he could recognize not a single syllable. The computer interface seemed not to share his feeling and for a moment, he considered asking Data to join him. Before he could act on the notion, he recognized a word.
It was Vulcan.
The Vulcan people dated back further than humans, but not the two hundred thousand years that would make them contemporaries of the Iconians. Then, a distant lesson came to mind. It was speculated that the Vulcan people might have ancestors dating back to the war-torn planet that existed some five hundred thousand years gone by. By the Iconians' time, the language would have been refined but still, too much time would have gone by for him to recognize the words.
"May I help you, Captain Picard? "
Startled, the captain looked at the interface and saw its expression had not changed. The words were in French, his native tongue.
"Yes, you may," he said in the same language. "How do I disengage the gateways?"
"Our controls work both verbally and manually. If you wish to address the controls, give straightforward commands."
Clearing his throat, Picard swallowed and then said, "Please shut down the gateway network."
"Configuring the relays."
There was a long pause but Picard could hear the mechanism at work and noticed he was holding his breath in anticipation.
"Networks closed down, relays disconnected. Do you require anything further?"
Could it be that simple? Picard stared at the system and saw that it seemed no different from before. "Computer, could the system have been deactivated by any of the fourteen stations?" "No," it replied. "The Master Resonator works off the biosignature of the one to make first contact. That would be you, Captain Picard."
"Has no one else used these controls?" Wait, it knew his name. Again, the level of sophisticated technology gave him pause.
"The Master Resonator is our emergency shutdown system and has not been required before now."
"Can the network be used anymore?"
"Yes. You would have to give me a restart instruction."
"How does the system shut down otherwise?"
"/ cannot answer that."
"Why not?"
"/ do not have that information."
Picard stared at the system with more than a little disbelief. He literally had the power over the gateways in his hands and no one else in the galaxy could take control. All it would take was for him to remove his unit and lock it away, and the gateways would no longer pose a threat. And only he knew this fact.
This was power he had promised to share, but he could not. He would be hunted for his DNA to restart the system, or be kidnapped in an attempt to gain control. Such information couldn't even go into the restricted files of Starfleet for fear that the insidious Section 31 would gain the knowledge. No, he would have to keep this to himself and take it to his grave. And what then? Would his death prevent the gateways from ever being used again? The thought was staggering.
No, he could not believe that. Just as the computer did not know its full capabilities and the current Iconians knew little of their heritage, Picard had to believe that there was a way to properly use the system. He would hold on to that belief, since the alternative made him shiver.
Could he control one unit at a time, directing the device from a remote location? Picard queried the computer, which answered in the affirmative. He considered that for a moment and then a thought occurred to him. Quickly, he tapped his communicator and had Riker patch him through to the Nyrian ship.
"Sure thing," Riker responded. "Did you succeed?"
"I believe so, Number One. Please have Data check all frequencies and see what he can learn." He waited patiently as the link to the distant starship was made.
"What's wrong, Captain?"
"Nothing, Taleen. However, I have gained control of the gateways and have shut them down. I can activate one, though, and send you close to home. We don't have the coordinates and will have to guess, which means you may wind up as lost as poor Voyager. Or you may stay here and join us. You must make the choice; I cannot do it for you."
"Captain Janeway has shown me great courage," Taleen told him. "Send us home. But first, thank you for your help and kindness."
Picard checked their best-guess coordinates, already researched by Ensign Paisner in stellar cartography thanks to Riker's diligence. He gave the verbal directions to the computer and the interface acknowledged.
"Gateway activated." And once more Picard waited for things to happen parsecs and parsecs away.
After some minutes, Riker contacted the captain and informed him that the long-range sensors at Starbase 134 showed the Nyrian ship had vanished. Mission accomplished.
"Computer, shut down the gateway and then close down," Picard instructed.
"As you wish," it said, and a moment later the image vanished. The computer whirled to a close and the lights went dim.
It was over. The galaxy could go about its business without threat of further interference.
Oddly, it felt disquieting, but Picard would adjust and learn to keep such secrets deep in his mind. He signaled his ship and was transported home.
The glowing face spoke in gibberish, but Chanik could tell it was speaking to someone, Young God Picard he assumed. There were pauses, then it spoke, then it stopped. Sounds indicated the system was changing and Chanik thought it might be dying. It took Young God Picard away and he was told this was a good thing but he missed the man.
The lessons he learned from Picard had filled his mind in all the hours he waited for the machine to perform its magic. Things were not always what they appeared and justice could take many forms. The lessons were good ones and maybe, when he was a little older, he could teach them to others. Teaching sounded like a good thing to do, he considered, chewing on the last strip of meat. But first, there was more for him to learn. Perhaps he would return to the farm they had passed together. Maybe the farmer took in the thieves and maybe there was room for him, too. He could work for food, learn to plant or make wine. And then he could watch and see if Picard's instructions would be followed.
A plan set, he turned to walk out of the cavern, ready to leave the City behind him and start something new.
Chapter 7
Doral had not left the guest cabin once. He had learned to manipulate the ship's computer and seemed to be accessing a wide variety of files, none of which posed a threat to the ship or crew. Christine Vale assured Picard that no sabotage was possible from the Petraw leader.
The Enterprise was en route back to the Petraw fleet. As soon as the captain returned to the bridge, contact with Starfleet was established and it was clear that the computer had followed its programming. Admiral Ross reported that all indications were that the gateways had stopped functioning, which meant more than a handful of planets were spared further damage. The cleanup work would take months, complicating the Domin
ion War rebuilding, but that was a task for the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. Ross complained that they never seemed to be moving forward, always rebuilding or recovering from some problem. His tone sounded upbeat, though, and Picard accepted the heartfelt thanks with a tight smile.
Now he stood before the Petraw's cabin, making up his mind. Bractor was right: he had not really considered the beaten explorer's fate. His hands tugged his uniform straight and he then pressed the door chime.
Within moments, he stood before Doral, who seemed slighter, less haughty than when they first met some days before. He had been viewing a recording about the horsehead nebula, a half-drunk cup by his elbow. If he were fully human, Picard would suspect he had slept little, his eyes looking more haunted than alert.
"It's over; we shut down the gateways," Picard said.
"I see."
"Your ploy caused immense loss of life and great destruction," the captain continued. "We estimate that relocating the lost will take some months. We have diplomats rebuilding peace accords and our work will allow us to remember the Petraw for quite some time."
"And what will become of my people?"
Picard looked at the defeated man and fought the feeling of pity that was welling within nun. He would not allow it. "Your people subscribe to a different moral code. I was distressed to see that one felt strongly enough to take action which cost more lives. I am not certain what should be done, to be honest. What you did, you did from some biological imperative, but I cannot forget that there were alternatives to the approach you took.
"I could leave you to the mercy of a coalition court, but that would detain you when that is clearly not of use to anyone."
"No, I suppose not." The words were flat, the tone devoid of emotion.
"I will bring you and your acolyte back to your ship but will suggest to the others that we pool our resources and come up with a purpose for your people."
Doral looked up with a questioning expression, the first sign of life since the captain had entered.
"You are explorers by nature and there is much of the galaxy left to visit. Many of us used tricorders to study the mechanism that activates the gateways. I believe Mr. Data can collect and analyze the information and provide you with a course that will allow you to fulfill your imperative while keeping you from interacting with any of the races you tried to dupe."
"We're banished?"
"No," Picard said carefully. "The universe is teeming with life and we're letting you go out and find them before any of us get the chance. Turn it to your advantage and open your minds to the possibilities."
Doral nodded, taking in the words, obviously surprised that the course of action did not involve trial or death.
Picard figured there would be time enough to talk further so left him alone to his thoughts. Instead, he needed a long rest.
"It's certainly been interesting," Davison told Troi with a grin.
"When dealing with the Enterprise, there is no other way," Deanna replied. They were standing in the captain's quarters and Troi was done packing her bag. Her home ship had returned to the alliance an hour earlier and it was time to report. The mighty starship would tow the Mercury home with the Marco Polo flying escort and Brisbayne coming over in temporary command. Already, the Glory was limping into a point position, preparing to lead the Petraw fleet in its new direction. The Qob was arcing around, ready to head back to the Klingon Empire, the other ships positioning themselves accordingly.
"What should I do with this?"
Troi looked at the item and smiled wickedly. "Ask the chief to have it beamed directly to my quarters. I'll need it soon."
The two shared a humorous look and then proceeded to the bridge. Troi had grown fond of the crew and wished she had more time to work with them. They'd always be her first crew and that made them memorable. She still wasn't sure if she wanted command for herself. After all, she hoped to spend the rest of her life with a man born to sit in the center seat. Working alongside him seemed good enough, either as counselor, first officer, lover - or wife.
"Captain on the bridge," Hoi called as the doors snapped open.
That, she would miss.
"I just wanted to thank you all, for the hard work," she said by the door. The crew had turned and given her rapt attention. All taut at their posts, the Enterprise fittingly on the viewscreen. "Starfleet Command will read our reports and I suspect you will all find yourselves with satisfactory assignments in the months to come."
"But our assignments have been changed, our ships have moved on," the Tiburonian science officer said, his voice bordering on a whine.
Troi grinned at him and answered, "Actually, with everyone mobilized to handle the gateways, Command clearly has to rethink deployments. You're to follow us back to Earth and we'll see what happens."
Mia Chan rose, her eyes dividing time between Troi and Rosario. The counselor recognized that the pair was ready to begin a relationship and she wished them well. She knew how tough it would be for any couple to establish a strong bond while serving on the same ship, especially one this small, but it was possible.
"You were so great to work with," Chan gushed.
"We all worked well together," Troi said calmly. 'There's still more to be done. We won't leave until the Petraw ships are on their way, just in case."
"Shall I keep a weapons lock on the lead ship?" Rosario asked.
"No," Troi countered. "We still have the dampening field in effect. In fact, we need to lower it in order to get me back to the Enterprise."
She stood another moment, uncertain if there was more to say. Once more, she beamed a smile at her crew and turned, counseling herself to keep her emotions in check. Without a look back, she put a reassuring hand on Davison's forearm and entered the turbolift.
Picard walked the bridge, checking station by station, ready to bring this entire matter to a close. Geordi La Forge was leaning over the engineering station, one of the aft duty posts on the vast bridge. He had been monitoring the polaron bursts that put the Petraw in check and so far everything ran with textbook efficiency.
"Ready to drop the field," he reported. Picard saw the screens and returned to his place in the command seat.
The captain turned to Riker, his face a mask of determination. Riker acknowledged the look and kept his counsel. Finally, Picard said, "I'd sooner sail through an ion storm than have to go through those kinds of negotiations again. While I had Admiral Ross's support, the Federation Council was dubious. Even after I got them to see my point, our representative races had their own notions of justice. Having turned off the gateways gave me more than a little additional clout, which carried the day."
"Not a perfect plan is it?" Riker asked.
The captain shook his head slowly before replying. "We've certainly been tidier in our affairs," he admitted. "But under the circumstances, it's the best solution."
Picard and Riker shared a quick glance as the captain settled in and Riker spoke out, "Do it, Geordi."
The readings were clear, space was returning to normal, and the engineer looked over his right shoulder and announced that space was safe for transporters once more. He remained studying the readouts, just in case a Petraw chose to commit a violent act.
"Riker to transporter room, ready to bring Captain Troi aboard."
Picard leaned back, feeling relaxed for the first time in a week. "I look forward to having the family back home."
"Sooner or later, we're going to have to leave the nest," Riker said. 'The days of letting a captain keep his crew together for decades are pretty much over."
"Trying to tell me something, Number One?"
"Not at all," Riker said, the usual twinkle in his eye. "Just making an observation."
"Perhaps I need to find you a ship after all," the captain said, coming as close to light banter as he dared on a topic that he disliked thinking about. Of course his crew would get promoted and move on. Some, like Tasha Yar, died in the line of duty, but others, like O'Br
ien and Worf, had moved on, pursuing their own destinies. Even Data had been placed on detached assignment here and there.
He would just have to cherish whatever time he had left with these special people.
"Counselor Troi is back aboard," the transporter chief reported.
"Excellent," Picard told him. "Lieutenant Vale, please have our Petraw guests brought to the transporter room. I will meet them there."