A Time to Hate

by Robert Greenberger

  “Not lovers until the Briar Patch,” Vale said. Not once had her eyes left the tricorder, but she managed to keep a conversation moving and avoid tripping over dead branches and small stones.

  “Not really,” Troi said. “That really was earlier.”

  “Oh? I knew there was something in the past, just never knew the story.”

  “It’s not something we usually post for casual consumption,” Deanna said.

  “Sorry if I’m intruding. I’m really a romantic and I think there’s a good story.”

  Troi hadn’t expected that, but she enjoyed talking about Will to an unbiased listener. And it did pass the time.

  “Well, we were naked when we first met,” Troi began.

  Vale lowered the tricorder and turned to stare, her mouth agape. “That certainly must have helped things along.”

  Troi laughed, happy to have the attention. “It was at a wedding. Will was a young lieutenant. He was assigned as Starfleet liaison to the Federation ambassador on Betazed. His first duty was to represent the ambassador at my girlfriend’s wedding. I was her maid of honor, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.”

  “That’s right, your planet doesn’t hide a thing, mentally or physically. Security personnel take special courses when posted to your world. Did you look back at the commander?”

  Troi chuckled at the memory, although at the time it wasn’t funny. “No. Not really. I grew up sheltered, despite having a human father. My mother wanted me to be a proper lady of Betazed, so Will’s look and thoughts, well, they were so alien to me.”

  “So nothing happened at first?”

  “He pursued me, I’ll give him that. And I was intrigued. I had never seen anyone so focused on the primal, physical needs or so confident in his abilities.”

  That earned Troi a raised eyebrow from Vale. She ignored it.

  “We finally met a few times, and I needed him to slow down and learn who I was and what I wanted from a relationship. It took some doing. A lot of doing. And to be honest, that was when I sensed there was something special about him. Our minds touched, a first for me. Being only half Betazoid, I thought I was unable to communicate telepathically with anyone but my mother, who is especially powerful. So, to have another voice in my head…”

  “Creeped you out?”

  “No, but it took getting used to. And then he told me he heard a word in his own mind, Imzadi.”

  “Wait,” Vale said, once more giving the counselor her undivided attention. “I’ve heard you use that word. It’s something special.”

  “More than that, Christine. With some people it can be an endearment, like ‘beloved.’ But what Will heard, and what I meant, was the purer meaning. It means ‘first,’ and we were each other’s first true, deep, meaningful relationship.”

  “But not your, you know, first…?”

  “Actually, he was,” she said. And she sensed Vale’s embarrassment, which amused her. “Ever since then, there was always going to be a connection between us, regardless of time or place.”

  “Which is how you sense he’s still alive,” Vale continued.

  “Yes.”

  They were silent for a moment, and Troi sensed a touch of unease from the other woman. To help keep the conversation going, she went on to tell of being a hostage during a botched Sindareen attempt to steal precious Betazoid artwork and how Riker was the one who rescued her. The story certainly appealed to the security officer side of Vale.

  “Wow. Wish I found someone like that for me.”

  The two continued to walk, Vale once more intent on the tricorder.

  “Hasn’t there been a great love in your life?”

  “Maybe. I mean, there was no telepathy, no word exchanged between souls. But we had one glorious year during my first posting. I was just an ensign, recently assigned to the U.S.S. Al-Batani…” And Vale went on about her experiences while Troi just listened. And thought about Will and the jungle, about Maror holding her life in his hands until Will arrived.

  “Wait a minute,” Vale said, interrupting her own story and Troi’s thoughts. “Found it. A pattern, that is. We’ve been getting reports of humans coming to hot spots, helping out and then vanishing.”

  Troi smiled at that, knowing it had to be the Rikers.

  “It took a while to piece together, considering these were buried eyewitness reports in a mound of other information. But there’s a pattern emerging. Jim has been helping coordinate the pattern.”

  “Jim?”

  “Jim Peart, my number two. He’s at tactical and says a rough chronology would have had them pass this way. We have a direction.”

  “Where are they heading?”

  Vale cracked a smile and gestured to the west, toward the last remnants of the setting sun. “Thataway.”

  “This is getting tedious,” Vale grumbled sometime later as they arrived at a site where there had been a riot. Indications were that two men had waded into the middle of the fight and broken it up. She suspected it was Kyle and Will Riker, but they only had hearsay to go on.

  “Well, what choice do we have?”

  “None, since they’re eluding our best sensor scans. They’re not making this easy on us.”

  “I think that was the idea,” Troi noted.

  “True, but it’s a pain in the ass.”

  “Also true.”

  The two saw that there were small clusters of people still talking among themselves. Troi equated them with embers waiting for a stiff breeze to fan them back into an inferno. She decided to keep a watch on them, adjusting her empathic abilities so most of the feelings passed over her. She was emotionally spent, having been surrounded by the strong feelings of a planet full of people who were experiencing them for the first time. It made her both mentally and physically tired.

  “If only there were a nice restaurant nearby,” she muttered.

  “Hungry? I have ration packs.”

  “I’ve had more than enough of those, thank you.”

  Vale shrugged and took a drink of water from her canteen. “You get used to them after a while.”

  “Maybe you do in security. The rest of us much prefer even replicated meals.”

  “I’m just real practical, you know,” Vale replied. “So, you never told me. Why’d you guys break things off?”

  The two walked around the small town with its broken shop windows and overturned containers of foods and fabrics.

  “Will told me he intended to be the youngest ever to be named captain. All he had was his career as a goal. There didn’t seem to be a place for a lady of Betazed.”

  “You mean, you joined Starfleet to follow him? Haven’t I heard that before,” Vale said with a knowing tone.

  “Actually, getting to know Will truly opened my eyes to the possibilities beyond my own world. It made sense to put my empathic skills to work, and Starfleet was just establishing its counselor program.”

  “The stars were in alignment then.”

  “I guess you could say that,” Troi admitted. “It never occurred to me we’d be posted to the same ship. When I learned who Captain Picard had selected as first officer, I kept the fact that I knew him private. The look on Will’s face was, I have to admit, priceless.”

  “I can only imagine. And that opened up fresh possibilities, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, but as you know, it took us a while before we took advantage of them.”

  “Too long, if you ask me.”

  And Troi couldn’t argue with that assessment. They continued to walk along in compatible silence.

  The riot, reports indicated, had flared quickly and spilled over a three-block area before it was broken up and peace officers managed to restore order. It was one of the few places they had visited that had not required assistance from the Enterprise.

  “Gracin to Vale.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We have the Huni port secure. It’s just about all wrapped up.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Nothing t
o mention.”

  “Good. We were due for one like that. Okay, check with Data and see if you’re needed. If not, get your squad back up. Vale out.”

  Vale shrugged apologetically to Troi, but the counselor was well aware that the security chief was needed to coordinate the massive efforts of her teams. Even supplemented by personnel from other departments, her teams were stretched thin. Every stop they made required constant communications with squad leaders. And every time Vale apologized.

  “You don’t need to do that, Christine.”

  “I want to help find the Rikers. These just feel like distractions.”

  “Necessary ones, so stop apologizing.”

  Vale’s next words were cut off when five hulking men rounded a corner and stopped in front of the women. They assessed the women with insolent eyes, deciding if the two would cause trouble or would be easy prey. The security chief shot Troi an exasperated glance before concentrating on the men.

  “What have we here, Noraa?”

  “Entertainment,” the man farthest back said.

  “Or not,” Vale said, withdrawing her phaser with complete nonchalance.

  The men paused, looking at the weapon, and then the man called Noraa laughed. At that, all five rapidly withdrew their own weapons, ranging from some form of energy pistol to a multibladed knife.

  “It doesn’t have to get ugly,” Vale said casually. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt us?” And the men laughed.

  “Five against two, all with weapons. I like our odds,” Noraa said.

  “I’d like things a lot better if you’d just let us leave.”

  “And miss out on your engaging company?”

  “Well, yes, now that you mention it.” Troi watched and saw that, as usual, Vale kept things casual, but it was all a facade. If someone looked carefully enough, they’d see muscles tensing, eyes sizing up the situation, and a body carefully moving into optimum position. Whatever happened, Troi was clearly there as backup, and her biggest task was not to get in the other woman’s way. While Troi was fully trained in and even excelled at the Klingon martial art of mok’bara, she was nowhere near as good as Vale.

  The nearest man moved to flank Vale, blocking her escape route to the right. Another stepped forward, shifting his knife between his hands, a little too eager for something to happen.

  He tossed the knife from left to right and back again, trying to intimidate them with his ambidexterity.

  With split-second timing, Vale kicked her left leg, catching the knife when it was between hands and sending it high into the air. She then threw herself into a backflip as the knife man skidded backward to avoid being struck by his own weapon. Her move also served to confuse the men on both sides. As she smoothly landed on her toes, she fired first to her left and then the middle.

  Troi took aim and let go one shot that went wide and then a second that struck the man to her right.

  Noraa, farther back, dropped to one knee and aimed his huge, gaudy pistol directly at Vale. His shot was loud and bright, and an orange beam sliced toward the women. Vale managed to dodge the beam, but her movement caused Troi to lose her balance getting out of her way.

  That allowed one of the others to rush her. He grabbed her around the middle and dragged her to the ground. One hand held her right wrist against the dirt; the other was hooked under her left knee as he tried to wrestle her into submission.

  Instead, Troi brought her right leg around, caught him in a scissors hold, and then squeezed, using her free hand, the one holding her phaser, to club him against his ear. He howled in pain and she squeezed tighter. With one arm pinned between her legs, he used his free arm to punch her weakly in the shoulder. She had all the lever-age, and he was flailing. Not that the punches were ineffective—Troi knew she’d be bruised come morning—but they weren’t stopping her.

  Finally, he seemed to weaken and she used the butt of the phaser to smack him right between the eyes. He seemed to go limp, and she squeezed one final time.

  As she disengaged herself from her attacker, she looked up carefully, wondering where the rest of the fighting was taking place. Instead, she saw Vale disarming the fifth and final man.

  “Have fun?”

  “Not especially, no,” Troi replied with a tired grin.

  “Admit it, it felt good to just let go and get all that tension out of your system. I bet you’ve wanted to bash one of these guys since the problems began.”

  “That’s not a very enlightened view to take,” Troi said, trying to sound calm and professional.

  “No, but it is very human.”

  “Well, I am only half human,” Troi reminded her.

  “That’s why you only managed one to my four,” Vale said with a grin. “You were far too much in control.”

  Enough was enough, Picard thought as he rematerialized between the Council chambers. He caught Carmona’s eye and gestured for him to approach. The guard appeared alert, but the captain saw the exhaustion in the man’s eyes. In addition to his work with the Council, he had to be concerned for the crew, too. Everyone was going above and beyond, which Picard had come to expect from his crew but didn’t take for granted. Much as he needed to continue to earn and retain their respect, he in turn was especially conscious of the need to show his own respect and appreciation for the work done by the hundreds of souls under his command.

  And right now, they were tired.

  “Mr. Carmona,” he began. “Please use whatever resources you need to gather the councillors in one place. Have their chief medic, Wasdin, available as well. You can pick the site you feel will best protect them.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Carmona said, and turned to sprint off.

  Within five minutes, Carmona returned and with an off-kilter smile announced they were convened and ready for him.

  Tapping his combadge, Picard summoned Crusher and Morrow to beam down and join him. Within moments they arrived, and he looked over at the ambassador. Morrow’s health had improved, but he moved with a slight stiffness that indicated pain.

  Picard, Morrow, and Crusher followed Carmona into the building, turning right, away from the Bader headquarters. At the end of a hallway they entered an office Picard had not been in before. The series of rooms implied some sort of suite arrangement. Deep in the back was a conference room, with a table more than large enough for all the councillors. It was windowless and totally secure. Carmona and Williams positioned themselves on either side of the door, with Carmona, the senior man, inside the room.

  The councillors for a change were not speaking among themselves, but sitting with grim, expectant expressions on their faces. All eyed Picard as he entered and went to the head of the table. He surveyed them for a moment and then nodded to them. He noted the presence of Seer of Anann, their protocol officer and the last man to have seen Will Riker. Picard worried about Will, hoping that Troi and Vale were making progress on the hunt.

  But for now, he was on his own and it was time to begin.

  “We have identified the problem and the solution,” he began. “What I am about to explain will be difficult for some of you, but it’s the truth. When we’re finished, I can make all the medical findings available to Wasdin.” He paused and looked directly at the older woman, who he would have sworn had aged five years in the past twenty-four hours. Her face was more deeply lined; the dark smudges under her pale green eyes had deepened to black.

  “What Starfleet Medical discovered was that a natural agent in the atmosphere was causing a chromosomal change that was resulting in the premature aging. They managed to find a cure for this, but they made a fundamental error. They were so concerned with repairing the damage, they neglected to fully study the changes in body chemistry.

  “As best as I can explain it, liscom gas, which has always been part of the ecosystem, has been acting like a narcotic, depressing certain functions within the brain. The result is that every one of the original settlers was, over time, effectively drugged into coope
rating with one another.”

  He paused, letting that sink in. Sure enough, several members of the Council began objecting, talking among themselves and gesticulating. Some things never change from planet to planet, Picard assured himself. Seer and Wasdin, though, did not object or comment. They seemed ready to hear more.

  “If I may continue,” Picard said loudly. He waited a moment to see that people were once more turning their attention to him. “What the medical treatment did was screen out the liscom’s effects on your brain chemistry. You will now live your normal life cycle in another generation or two. However, you are all experiencing your true natures for the first time. Without a set of moral codes and experiences, the people on this planet are suddenly feeling extreme tendencies for the very first time and don’t know how to handle them.”

  “That’s the madness?” Wasdin asked incredulously. “Ourselves?” She looked at Crusher, who nodded sadly, a wan smile on her face.

  “Yes,” Crusher agreed, “you are all reverting to type, and since both the Bader and the Dorset tend to be aggressive, there have been outbreaks of violence. Your media has made this out to be a form of madness, which has inflamed public opinion against the Federation.”

  “What about El Bison El’s murder of Unoo of Huni?” Seer asked.

  “Something agitated him, we don’t know what,” Picard admitted. “He was the first to truly exhibit these feelings and acted out. He had no true sense of how to rein in the new emotions. Unoo’s death was the first unfortunate consequence of this condition.”

  “Unfortunate is too mild a word, Captain,” Seer replied.

  “Do you have a cure?” Wasdin asked.

  “Yes, Dr. Crusher has come up with something. But before deploying it, we want you to understand the full implications of our actions.”

  “Unlike last time,” Cholan of Huni muttered.

  “Indeed, Councillor, we have made mistakes in this matter,” Picard continued. “My chief medical officer has worked around the clock to find a way to stop the violence. Her solution is not perfect, but it gives your people time.”

  “What do you mean?” Seer asked.