A Time to Hate

by Robert Greenberger

  Picard shook his head in disappointment. Ever since he had beamed down two days ago, his impression had been that the government seemed ill-equipped to make a lunch selection let alone rule the people. He had hoped that with Jus Renks Jus replacing Chkarad as Speaker, things would improve. Clearly, they had not, since they were not taking their security seriously enough.

  “I’ve got Williams posted at the Bader entrance, and I’ve been keeping watch here. I think that’s about all Lieutenant Vale can spare, to be honest, and I worry every time the door opens.”

  “As you should,” Picard said. “But you can’t influence the Council. I should know—I’ve been trying for days.” He gave the weary guard a smile of support, which seemed to brighten the man’s spirits. “We’ll try and get you some support. Carry on.”

  Carmona nodded. He walked back across the office and left, no doubt taking up his post on the opposite side of the door. Picard felt safe, knowing how much he could trust the man.

  Troi finished her conversation and came back to the captain. She looked pleased with herself, and Picard gave her a quizzical look.

  “There’s an old saying: ‘It’s the clerks who run the government.’ ”

  Picard nodded. “I’ve heard it.”

  “Well, here it is in practice,” she said, sounding just a tad smug. “Even though the Bader and Dorset councillors feel the need to separate, the aides and staff disagree. They are keeping links open between the two rooms, sharing information. Generally, they have a better grasp on the reality of the situation than either room full of councillors.”

  “Indeed,” Picard said, only mildly amused and impressed by the revelation.

  “They share their leaders’ concerns but are far more fatalistic. They’ve seen the damage reports and casualty counts. Sir, it’s far worse than they are admitting to,” Troi said.

  “I can’t step in and tell them how to do things. I’m limited by our rules and regulations, including the fact that they are the sovereign government.”

  The captain then took a moment to wander to a far corner of the large office and contact the Enterprise. He wanted to check in before he got too distracted by the problems before him.

  “Status, Mr. Data?”

  “We have received no word from Commander Riker, and he is overdue to check in.”

  “Have you tried to hail him?”

  “Actually, sir, we cannot seem to locate him.”

  “The sensors aren’t picking up his badge?”

  “No, sir. He has vanished like his father.”

  “I’d like to take that as a sign he has found his father. They had headed north, if I recall. Please see what you can do to find them. Anything else?”

  “Geordi has had to take the warp engines offline to try and resolve a plasma injector problem. Since we are not likely to need warp power while in orbit, now seemed like the best time to deal with that.”

  “Agreed. Picard out.” He only hoped that La Forge would be able to handle the repairs on his own without having to summon assistance from Starfleet. The captain thought he had more than enough to occupy his attention.

  Beverly Crusher felt that she had a purpose again. Over the last few days, she had studied the Delta Sigma IV problem to find out what had turned a cure for a genetic disorder into a poison. She had finally figured out the mystery and could go to work on a solution. She let her coffee go cold as she worked in the lab without interruption. Fortunately, the casualties from the planet had slowed to a trickle as her staff set up triage stations on all four continents. Dr. Tropp was supervising the planetside work while she remained aboard and concentrated on the long-term issues.

  Crusher pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and ran a series of studies on the brain chemistry of the five test subjects. They had spent nearly a year in quarantine, waiting to see if the cure provided by Starfleet Medical would change their genetic codes back to normal. Everything seemed to check out until one, El Bison El, killed Unoo of Huni and fled the building, breaking quarantine and unleashing the problem on an unsuspecting world.

  When the native plant liscom’s natural gases were filtered from the blood, the body chemistry began a return to normal. But normal also meant that both races’ violent tendencies reasserted themselves. The liscom gas had actually worked like a narcotic, lulling the people into a peaceful frame of mind and allowing the two races to coexist in harmony and to gain Federation membership for their world, unlike their belligerent parent worlds.

  Rather than study the blood work, she concentrated this time on the brain chemistry, watching how the buildup of gas altered the way the brain governed personality. All in all, it was both fascinating and chilling, something she wanted to study in greater detail. Time, as usual, was the enemy. In fact, it was this kind of research, as opposed to the emergency room atmosphere of the last few days, that got her to thinking once more about Yerbi Fandau’s offer. The current surgeon general had let her know, several months back, that he was planning on retiring and that she had been approved as his first choice to replace him. Given all she had been through over the last few months—the sudden return and departure of her son, Wesley, the loss of face within the Starfleet community, and the growing notion that Picard would never entertain a romantic relationship—made the offer incredibly tempting. She needed to make a decision whether or not to accept, but she didn’t want to do it without discussing the issue with her longtime friend. However, the crisis below would have to be settled first.

  Once again, she leaned into the microscope and watched the microbes. Her left hand fine-tuned readouts, one finger activating a color-coded field that helped identify the various elements on the slide. A greenish tinge was suddenly highlighted, something she hadn’t seen before. With a contented sigh, she straightened up and began taking notes.

  Troi was leaning against a wall, watching the scurrying back and forth, wondering if things could possibly get worse. Aboard the Enterprise, she was counseling several crewmembers, many of whom were ambivalent about remaining loyal to the captain and staying on the Enterprise, or looking after their own careers and seeking safer assignments. Was it really only days ago, she wondered, that she and Riker were reviewing the latest transfer requests?

  But not everyone was looking to get out. Anh Hoang, an engineer, didn’t want to leave and didn’t seem to be all that concerned about the current political brouhaha regarding the crew, but had other problems that were of concern to the counselor. After losing husband and child in the Breen attack on San Francisco several years back, Hoang seemed to have closed in on herself, holding herself in a type of personal stasis. No friends, no romance, no off-duty hobbies. It appeared her life was just work and sleep. And that, Troi knew, was only a recipe for long-term trouble. They had begun speaking over the last few days, and Troi began to wonder if she was using Hoang as an excuse not to focus on the horrible problems plaguing Delta Sigma IV.

  She had walked the streets, felt the people growing angry, felt their sense of loss and their insecurity as they came to grips with their natural tendencies for the first time in their lives. The two races could not solve their problems entirely through diplomatic means, nor could they achieve any form of peace as long as the people gave in to their new impulse to violence. None of them had grown up developing the moral codes and internal governors sentient beings require, so things had spiraled quickly out of control.

  An aide went by, surreptitiously handing her a glass of water. His body language indicated that the presence of the Federation was barely tolerated by the Council. Picard had quickly determined that keeping the contagion away from the Council was of paramount importance, and so far there had been little evidence of the “madness” taking hold. She presumed, though, that it was possible that someone had gotten infected during the escape from their chambers. Currently, there was no way to scan for the disorder with tricorders, a further complication. If the Council members were infected, the government was done for.

  “Th
is is Protocol Officer Seer of Anann.”

  The voice drifted toward her from the status board that had recently been completed. Two aides and a councillor drifted over to the board, all looking surprised. Their representative had clearly been forgotten.

  “Councillor El Rodak El speaking,” the woman began, only to be interrupted by a second voice chiming in from the other room, “Cholan of Huni here.”

  There was a brief flash of consternation on Rodak’s lined features, but she willed them away and awaited Seer’s report.

  “We’re still on the island of Eowand. There was a fight, and we spotted Kyle Riker. Commander Riker went after him, and both appear to have vanished. The local officers and I have scoured the area, but there’s no trace of either human.”

  This confirmed Data’s earlier report that Will had not checked in on schedule. Troi frowned at the message, listening carefully to the cadence of Seer’s report. He was telling the truth, and this bothered him. Clearly, he and Will had formed a bond that had no doubt helped them get this far. The concern in his voice was genuine. Just then, a hand gently grasped her right shoulder.

  “It’s all right, Captain,” she said before turning her head.

  “Counselor, I knew the Enterprise lost Commander Riker’s signal a little while before the protocol officer’s report came through. I took that to mean Kyle Riker had been found, so I was not concerned.”

  His voice was calm and professional, his use of titles reminding her that this was an ongoing mission. She turned all the way to face him, and his hand fell to his side.

  “I have every faith in Will, sir,” she replied, using his first name to indicate she was not going to treat this entirely on a business basis, because there were also personal issues attached.

  “Good. So do I.”

  “I will continue to look for a little while longer, then return to the capital.”

  “Fine, fine,” Cholan barked from the other room.

  Jus Renks Jus, Speaker for the now divided Council, had joined the growing crowd, and his look of distaste spoke volumes to Troi. Someone, if not all the Council members, must be infected. Controlling the government was going to become a serious problem over the next few hours.

  As Picard looked at the updating monitor screen, Troi stepped back, forced herself to drink the last of her water, and concentrated all her skills on finding her link with Will. Although she had been born with only half the normal Betazoid’s telepathic talents, her bond with Will Riker was strong enough always to be there, online in her mind. When she discovered almost immediately after they met that they shared this bond, the knowledge scared her. No one except her mother had ever been able to achieve that level of intimacy with her before. Since then, though, the bond had been a constant source of comfort. Now she found it with little effort: a golden thread, glowing amid the shadows of her mind. He was alive, and that was enough for her.

  For now.

  Chapter Two

  KYLE RIKER GOT UP from the ground, wiping the dirt from his hands. He didn’t move with the same sureness Will always remembered. His father wore a bulky gray coat, not the same sort of flexible microweave jacket Will was wearing. His hands were bare because gloves would have prevented him from doing the delicate work that was necessary to steal a flyer. They were chafed and red from the cold, and scarred. Definitely the worse for wear, Will mused, watching without once lowering his phaser.

  “I said, I’m listening,” Will ordered.

  Kyle looked over at him, pain in his eyes, something Will had not seen in his father since the one woman whose love they had shared, Will’s mother, Ann, had died.

  “You can put the phaser down, son,” Kyle said.

  “Right now, I can’t trust you.”

  “Your own father?”

  “Especially him,” Will replied.

  Kyle looked hurt for a moment but let it pass. “I thought we tore that wall down a decade ago. I thought this was all past us.”

  “Funny thing about walls,” his son said. “You can build them, tear them down, and rebuild them all over again.”

  “Is that what this is all about? My not being in touch? I’ve never been good about that.”

  “No, this is all about you leaving the scene of a crime and allowing yourself to become a fugitive. You need to come in and explain yourself.”

  Kyle gestured with his hands, palms up. “Can I at least put some gloves on? It’s colder than a Romulan’s smile.”

  Will gestured with the phaser. His father gingerly reached into his coat pockets, pulled out black gloves, and put them on. He rubbed his hands, trying to generate some friction to warm them faster. Will just stood there, sorting through the feelings that were conflicting in his heart and his head, trying to remain focused on the mission. While they had this reunion, a planet was falling apart, and he had to learn what role his father had played. Mixed in with it all was the dreaded feeling of guilt by association, and it nagged at him, fueling the anger he barely kept under control.

  “Much better, thanks, son.”

  “Let’s keep this professional, sir,” Will said.

  “Like we did on the Enterprise? What did you call it…your best Academy manners? Is the wall really that high and thick?”

  Will did not reply, deciding to wait his father out. Get him to talk. Vale had taught him this trick some time back, and he liked using it. In the past he would have threatened or intimidated his subject, using his large physique to good advantage.

  Kyle, no slouch as a negotiator, tried to wait him out too. Both must have felt the pressure of time, but Kyle seemed to think they both needed to settle their personal issues first. Will shifted his feet, sensing the cold seeping through his boots. He glanced up and saw the coming twilight. When the sun set, it was going to be a lot more uncomfortable standing in between parked flyers.

  Finally, Kyle broke the silence. “Can we at least do this inside somewhere?”

  Will stood his ground and started to reach for his combadge.

  Kyle looked concerned and shook his head, saying, “No.”

  “Enterprise is a whole lot warmer than down here.”

  “My work isn’t done. I have to finish, and you can be a part of it.”

  “You still haven’t explained yourself.”

  “I will, but let’s get out of the cold.”

  “How’d you get to Eowand?”

  Kyle looked at the ground, almost like a child caught with his hand on the cookies. “I came on a flyer.”

  “Something you stole.”

  There was a spark of defiance in Kyle’s eyes. “I intend to make reparations when this is done. But a stolen vehicle or two is nothing compared with the suffering these people are enduring.” Some steel had also crept back into his voice, and Will tried to figure out just how broken a man Kyle was. Without answers, everything was conjecture. At that moment, he flashed on Deanna’s face and wished she were here. She’d know what was in his father’s heart.

  “Is the flyer here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rather than compound your crimes, let’s take that one. Do you have a destination in mind?”

  Kyle gestured with his left hand toward a battered, pale blue and gold vehicle, somewhat haphazardly parked compared with the other ships on the ground.

  “I wanted to change flyers, avoid possible tracking,” Kyle explained, his frozen breath drifting around his head. “I’ve been doing it for days.”

  Will nodded and walked on the older man’s right side, keeping out of arm’s reach, his phaser on the side away from his father. A locking light blinked twice, and he heard a click. The hatch was a little wider than on Seer’s ship, but the inside was much the same. He had to admit he was impressed by how easily his father slipped into the pilot’s chair and began running through the preflight sequence. The flyer hummed to life, the engine sounding rougher than Seer’s craft but more powerful. Kyle looked at Will and then at the piloting controls. Will nodded his consent, and Kyle�
��s large hands struggled their way inside the two contoured holes that housed the controls. Within seconds, the engine’s vibration grew a little rougher, and with a small shudder, the flyer began to lift into the air.

  “I’ve changed flyers four times,” Kyle explained as they traveled. “They’re all built so damned consistently, it’s a snap to master each new model.” Will didn’t reply, figuring the warming air would make his father more talkative.

  Banking to the right, they swooped away, the town of Eowand rapidly growing smaller. The sky was now almost a royal blue before them, a golden haze behind them. They flew for several minutes in silence. The presence of two large men made the forward section of the flyer feel cramped, but Will made sure his right arm, which held the phaser, remained free to move. He rested the weapon in plain sight, certain that Kyle could do nothing as long as his hands were encumbered by the ship’s controls.

  “How’d you know where to find me?” Kyle finally asked.

  “Someone was defusing things around the planet when no one else seemed capable. It didn’t take a computer to figure out it had to be you.”

  “And here?”

  “You seemed to stop following Bison; you followed the main path of the contagion. As I saw it head north, it became apparent you were heading for familiar climates.”

  Kyle nodded, a smile of approval on his features. He then narrowed his blue eyes, concentrating on a course correction that would take them directly toward the northern pole of the planet. “I lost Bison. Bet you did, too.”

  “Letting the magnetic field hide us?”

  “If anything, it’ll confuse the scanning and we can then go any direction we want.”

  “And this ship is shielded from the magnetic field?”

  Will received a withering look from his father and he cursed himself for asking so naive a question. Was he an adult, or was he twelve again?

  “We were never looking for Bison, to be honest. You didn’t say, where are we going?”

  “Next nearest mass concentration of people is here, on the Osedah continent. We’ll check that out, make sure things are under control, and keep moving.”