The main bridge viewer switched from orbital image of the planet to the inside of Stross’s office, where the Thiopan leader sat at his desk. Next to him stood Policy Minister Ootherai. “Captain Picard . . . Sorry we haven’t been able to find out anything about your missing officer.”
“We have obtained his release from the Sojourners.”
Stross seemed unperturbed. “So you had direct contact with them, then?” he noted mildly. “They’re considered criminal terrorists here, Captain. Your talking to them isn’t going to sit well within—”
“The details and consequences of that contact are not the purpose of this communication.” Picard’s tone was direct and controlled.
“Oh? What is?”
“The consequences of Thiopa’s lack of regard for its own future. I have a decision to make—whether or not to give your government the rest of the emergency supplies. Would you stand by, please?” He didn’t give Stross a chance to dissent. “Mute audio.” He paused for a moment as Worf cut the sound portion of their signal. “Captain Picard to Lessandra. Come in, please.”
After a moment, they heard her crusty voice over the speaker. “Is that how I get this thing to work?”
“Yes, it is. We hear you, Lessandra,” Picard said.
“Captain, did you get Riker back alive?”
“Alive and unharmed. We also brought Mori aboard temporarily—some unfinished business. We’ll transport her down shortly.”
“We got word from Crossroads that you sent down the supplies you promised. You’re an honorable man, Captain—thank you. We’ll see that the people who need help get it.”
“That was only a fraction of what we’ve brought to help Thiopa. What we do with the remaining aid depends on how you respond to my next proposal.”
“Try it.”
“I propose a conference between you and Protector Stross—”
“Never,” Lessandra spat. “I trusted him once—”
“You don’t have to trust an enemy in order to talk to him,” Picard said forcefully. “This will be an electronic conference—right now. Lieutenant Worf, resume second-channel audio. Lord Stross, Lessandra—you may now speak directly to each other.”
Stross’s eyes were stormy. “Picard, if you think you can bully—”
“I apologize for any rudeness, Lord Stross. I have a proposal, which I urge you to accept. It involves no risk on your part.”
“What kind of proposal?”
“Talks between you and Lessandra.”
“Stross doesn’t want to talk any more than I do,” Lessandra said.
“We don’t deal with criminals,” Stross shot back.
“I’m not asking you to do that,” Picard said. “In order to decide how to distribute the Federation relief supplies, I need to present some vital information to both of you first. In the interest of fairness—and our best effort to remain neutral in your dispute—I wanted you both to hear this presentation at exactly the same moment. When I’m done, if either or both of you have nothing further to say, we’ll cut off both signals.”
He paused as the bridge doors opened, and Ambassador Undrun emerged.
“The future of your world is at stake,” Picard went on. “is it too much to ask that you both listen to what I have to say?”
Stross’s shoulders rose into a hostile hunch. “I’ll listen.”
“So will I.” Lessandra’s voice was equally antagonistic.
Picard thanked them, took a deep breath, then cited the litany of facts and projections Data had listed in his report. The greenhouse effect, its causes and consequences, the abuses inflicted on water and air, the savage exploitation of nonrenewable resources, the destruction of forests and other natural hedges against environmental ruin—all of it, leading to one inescapable conclusion: if Thiopans didn’t change their ways and learn to cooperate—or at least coexist—their civilization faced certain collapse. The Federation could help avert it, if such help was requested.
When he was finished, Picard felt drained. He’d been blunt, but believed there was no other way to convey to them the gravity of the crisis, and to circumvent the political posturing he expected from both sides.
During his lecture, Dr. Kael Keat had joined Ootherai at her leader’s side in Stross’s office. She was first to respond. “We don’t dispute your facts, Captain Picard. And, as I told Commander Data, we’re aware of the mistakes of the past and the problems they’ve caused for our world.”
Picard leaned back in his seat. “But you do dispute our findings?”
“Yes, I do. They’re based on limited knowledge of the work we’ve been doing. Long before the environmental catastrophe you’re predicting, we will have mended our ways. We’ll also have mastered nature’s mysteries. We will be in control.”
Data started to say, “Dr. Keat—”
But Picard cut him off. “Mr. Data, mind your post. It is—”
Data turned, confusion in his eyes. “But, Captain, that is not—”
“It is not our place to contradict Dr. Keat.” He addressed the Thiopans again. “What if your scientists can’t produce this weather control miracle, Protector Stross?”
“We didn’t get where we are by doubting science, Captain Picard.”
“We trusted outsiders before,” said Keat, “and that brought us to the brink of catastrophe, Captain. We’re never again going to let outsiders tell us what to do.”
“What about you, Lessandra?” Picard asked. “Do you also believe Thiopa is in no danger?”
“What if it is? The collapse of their civilization is what we want. If we can’t bring it about, we’ll wait for Mother World to punish them herself. Meanwhile, we can defend ourselves . . . and when she takes her vengeance for the ravages of others, we’ll still be here.” The old woman’s voice was untroubled, almost stunning in its tranquillity. “We are caretakers—not conquerors.”
Stross couldn’t contain his fury. He rose from his chair. “I heard that, Lessandra!”
“I know you did.”
“You can’t stop Fusion—you can’t stand in our way. You can’t stop us from building a future where your Mother World can’t threaten us,” Stross raged.
The angrier Stross became, the more placid Lessandra’s voice grew. “We have the power because we have the sense to keep the circle intact.”
“You and your circle!”
“We’ve heard enough,” Captain Picard thundered. When the bickering on the comm channels subsided, he continued in a voice hushed by hopelessness. “You’ve given us little choice but to leave you to your own fate.”
“What about the rest of the relief supplies, the food?” Lessandra wanted to know.
“Since it is apparent that your two sides are incapable of compromise or cooperation on even a small scale, I will transport half the remaining supplies to your people, Lessandra, and half to your government, Protector Stross.”
“Captain,” Stross protested, “I am the leader of this world’s government.”
Lessandra ignored her opponent’s tirade. “I knew you were an honorable man, Captain.”
“This has nothing to do with honor. There seems to be all too little of that on Thiopa,” Picard said sadly. “We’re just completing our assignment in the only feasible way.”
“I’ll register an official complaint with your Federation,” Stross went on.
Frid Undrun suddenly spoke up, stepping to the center of the bridge to stand near Picard. “Feel free, Protector Stross. But I am the Aid Ministry’s authorized emissary in this matter, and I concur completely with Captain Picard’s judgment.”
“Use what we give wisely,” Picard said wearily. “I doubt there will be more.”
Stross scoffed. “The Federation won’t let us starve. You need us.”
“Perhaps. But I wouldn’t stake my future on it, if I were you. We’ll beam the emergency supplies down within the hour. After that, we shall leave orbit. Picard out.”
With communications ended, the views
crcen resumed displaying the hazy face of Thiopa. Riker stretched his long legs and sat back. “There’s a view I won’t miss.”
“Nor I, Number One.”
Riker turned slightly. “Worf, see to the transfer of our cargo to Thiopa.”
“Right away, Commander.”
Picard stood before Ambassador Undrun. “Thank you for your support.”
“Thank you for your patience,” Undrun answered warmly.
“Number One,” said Picard, “I believe we have one more item to see to.”
The first officer rose to his feet. “To sickbay, sir?”
Picard responded with a nod and they strode up the side ramp. “Mr. Data, you have the bridge.”
As the turbolift doors shut out the hum of bridge activity, Picard said, “What would you recommend to the Federation about Thiopa?”
“I think the Federation should look somewhere else for a reliable ally.”
“Agreed,” Picard said. “The real tragedy, though, is the future of this world.”
“Bareesh isn’t really feeling the pain yet. Maybe they’ll change their tune when things get worse.”
“Maybe. But will anything ever make the Sojourners change theirs?”
They arrived at Dr. Pulaski’s office to find Mori pacing nervously, alone. “Where’s the doctor?” Riker asked.
Before Mori could reply, Pulaski entered from her lab. “Right here.”
Mori’s whole body stiffened with pent-up anticipation. “Do you know—”
Pulaski’s mouth softened into a reassuring smile. “It’s not your father’s body in that tomb.”
The young Sojourner exhaled the breath she’d been holding and sank down into the nearest chair. The three starship officers surrounded her, concern lining their faces.
“I thought you’d be happy to hear it.” Pulaski began.
“I am, in a way,” Mori said in a small voice. “He’s not dead inside that pyramid . . . but he might still be dead.” She stopped, her eyes revealing confusion and something unexpected: shame.
Riker saw it clearly. “There’s something else bothering you . . . Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
She shook her head vigorously. “No, it’s not.” She groped for the right words, or any words. When she found them, they were whispered. “Part of me was hoping it was Evain buried there. Then at least I would have known.” Her shoulders began to tremble, but she asserted control over the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. “So I don’t know. Not for sure. But I will find out.”
“I believe you will,” Picard said, helping her up with a fatherly hand. “We’ll be leaving orbit soon. Time to send you home.”
With the Enterprise’s two commanding officers flanking her, Mori paused at the sickbay door. “Dr. Pulaski—thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And good luck.”
On their way to the transporter room, they saw lanky Wesley Crusher and tiny Frid Undrun coming toward them around the curving corridor. “Ambassador Undrun,” said Riker, “I didn’t get a chance to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Captain Picard told me how you tried to get the Sojourners to turn me loose. That took a lot of guts, going down there alone. Not a lot of brains—but a lot of guts.” He smiled.
Mori tugged on Riker’s sleeve. “Hey, that’s the same thing you said about me.”
“Well, you two have a lot in common—bullheadedness.”
“A good quality to have,” Undrun boomed. Then he smiled and added: “When tempered with some clear-headed common sense. In any case, you’re welcome . . . Commander Riker.”
“I think I misjudged you, Mr. Ambassador.”
“No, you didn’t,” Undrun said with a shake of his head. “But I’ve realized something I should have known before: not every obstacle can be hurdled with a computer analysis and a five-year plan.”
Riker grinned. “Do you think you can nurture this newfound wisdom?”
“I plan to try. I have to get used to the concept that experiences are to be learned from, not just filed away in mission-briefing reports.”
“C’mon, Ambassador,” Wesley urged. “We’ll be late.”
“Late?” Picard’s eyebrow rose. “For what?”
“Wesley has invited me to address his class in Problems in Cross-Cultural Contacts. Maybe they can learn from my mistakes.”
Wes pulled the diminutive diplomat along, saying, “Guest speakers don’t get demerits for being late . . . but I do!”
Once they reached the transporter room, Mori bounded up to the beaming chamber, propelled by a clear sense of purpose. “I can’t wait to get back. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Riker admonished, “Remember what the ambassador just said.”
“About learning from experiences? I will.”
“You’re going back to a dangerous world.”
“I know.”
“Your own people may not give you the support you want, to do what you want to do.”
“Then I’ll find it someplace else.” She smiled. “And maybe I’ll find my father, too.”
Riker nodded. “Be careful down there.”
“I will,” she said. “And thank you, both of you.”
Transporter Chief O’Brien tapped in the beamdown coordinates. “Ready, sir,” he told Picard.
“Energize,” the captain said.
O’Brien touched the control pad again, and Riker watched Mori’s silhouette fade away until she was gone. Her life hadn’t been an easy one, and the odds against finding her father and winning his freedom were too high to calculate.
Still, whatever tests she had yet to face, Riker had a feeling Mori would hold her ground.
Epilogue
WITH NO IMMEDIATE NEED to return to the bridge, Picard and Riker took the opportunity to do something they both enjoyed—take a stroll through the Enterprise. As they passed a small recreation lounge, a strident braying crashed into their ears at pain-inducing volume. To Picard it sounded like a herd of bellowing beasts undergoing unspeakable torture.
Riker, of course, knew what it was instantly.
A second blast of noise virtually paralyzed them in the corridor. The moment it ended, Picard lunged for the rec-room door, with Riker just behind. The door slid aside, revealing no beasts being butchered—just Worf, Geordi LaForge, and Data sitting on stools around a computer screen displaying what appeared to be musical notation. Each player cradled his own Klingon chuS’ugh.
Riker went pale. A whole orchestra?
As always, Picard retained his composure. “So this is a Klingon, uh—”
“ChuS’ugh,” Worf said, his tone defensive.
Picard reached out with one finger to pluck a single string on Geordi’s instrument. The engineer positively beamed at the reverberating noise. “Isn’t that the most amazing sound?”
“Amazing,” Picard said with a wan smile.
“Geordi liked it so much,” Data said, “that he had the computer manufacture two more, identical to Worf’s.”
“I thought Data should learn more about music,” the chief engineer added, as if explaining the android’s presence.
“Music,” Riker muttered with a shake of his head.
But Geordi continued without skipping a beat. “And then I thought, since you didn’t seem too excited about having a chuS’ugh in the ship’s jazz combo, well, why do we have only one combo?”
“You mean . . . a chuS’ugh combo?” Riker asked numbly.
“Hey, why not? Once we get good enough, we can have an old-time battle of the bands.”
“I surrender,” Riker said quickly, already backing out of the room.
He and Picard escaped before the next sonic disruption from the rec lounge. They headed for the nearest turbolift back to the bridge.
“I’m afraid you’ve released an elemental force,” Picard commented, with a thumbed reference back toward the raucous rehearsal.
Riker chuckled. “Two in one day, sir.”
“You
mean Mori?”
“Yes, sir. You know, she really wanted a shot at the rest of those hoverjets.”
“Determined young lady.”
“Stubborn is more like it.”
“That characteristic could serve her well,” Picard allowed, “if properly directed.”
“Or it could get her into trouble she can’t get out of someday.”
“Like her planet?”
Riker nodded wistfully as they entered the turbolift. “Bridge.” The doors slid shut and the pod rose through the ship. “People can get so damned self-righteous—their answers are the only answers. Just butting heads at cross-purposes—can’t they see they’re destroying their own future?”
Picard’s expression turned philosophical. “Seems to be part of the maturation process for most civilizations, ours included. Takes a bit of luck to survive it.”
“The Sojourners seem so certain they’ll come out on top, no matter what the sacrifice,” Riker observed.
“Sometimes the only way to win a battle is to avoid fighting it.”
“That doesn’t seem to have occurred to either side on Thiopa.”
With imperceptible deceleration, the lift came to a stop and opened onto the Enterprise bridge. Picard and Riker joined Counselor Troi, who was seated on the lower level. Wesley Crusher was at his console, enjoying a whispered chat with Ensign Lanni Sakata, the raven-haired young woman he’d found so distracting on other occasions.
“I think I see a developing crush,” Riker murmured to Captain Picard.
“Mmmm. That’s your department, Number One.”
“Captain,” said Lieutenant White from behind the command seats, “we’ve completed off-loading of all relief supplies.”
“It’ll be a relief to get away from Thiopa,” Riker quipped, prompting a trace of a smile from Picard.
“Amen to that, Number One.”
“Mr. Crusher,” said Riker, drawing Wesley’s attention. “I believe the Enterprise was meant for better things than playing nursemaid to freight drones. Do you concur?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Wesley replied with crisp assurance.
“Then set course for Starbase Seventy-seven. Let’s get rid of those empty cargo carriers and get back to work.”
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