by Dayton Ward
An alert tone sounded from the tactical station, and he looked over to see Lieutenant Šmrhová frowning as she studied whatever was being sent to her console. The security chief tapped several controls before directing her attention to Picard.
“Captain, sensors are picking up three vessels traveling at low warp, on what appears to be an intercept course out from the planet. At their current speed, approximately warp one point eight, they’ll be here in less than an hour.”
Picard scowled. “They know we’re here.”
So much for remaining discreet.
Nodding, Šmrhová replied, “Looks that way, sir. Each of the ships is carrying sensor equipment, but well below our capabilities, and they’ve got energy weapons that are similar to the planet’s satellite network. They’re also carrying a crude form of nuclear projectiles. Six missiles each. We’ve got them outgunned, but I wouldn’t want us being hit by one of those without our shields.”
“Let’s have a look at them, Lieutenant.”
The image of Sralanya disappeared from the screen, replaced by a trio of ships traveling at warp speed, their velocity well below the threshold of the Enterprise’s sensors to locate and examine. Each was rectangular, long and narrow, and Picard observed that the ships were constructed from components fitted together along a spine. One of the ships contained eight segments, while its companions were smaller, comprised of six sections, and a few of the modules differed in size and shape from their counterparts, suggesting that they had been used because matching sections could not be found. The rear two components of each craft were also the anchor points for smaller, narrower cylinders that extended beyond the rear of their respective ships.
To Picard, none of the vessels looked particularly robust, seemingly cobbled together from pieces of other ships, and perhaps even using equipment never intended for space travel. Each possessed a similar neutral gray hull coloring in what to him seemed an obvious attempt to make the ships appear uniform despite the apparent inconsistencies in their construction. Still, in some ways they reminded him of the first low-warp, long-haul interstellar cargo freighters that once connected Earth with its initial handful of colonies in the twenty-second century, though even those vessels had a utilitarian aesthetic he found appealing. These ships, while not unsightly, still affected an air of having been constructed through sheer necessity, using whatever materials could be found.
“They’re scanning us, sir,” reported Šmrhová. “Nothing obtrusive. Our sensors show it’s more like lidar or ranging scanners, to verify our location. They could be targeting us.”
Casting a glance over his shoulder to Picard before speaking, Worf asked, “What is the range of their weapons?”
“The missiles don’t have warp propulsion, so they’re not a threat until the ships get a lot closer. The energy weapons are a different story, but not at this distance.”
“We’ll maintain our current alert level for the time being,” said Picard, not wanting to appear provocative without just cause. Stepping away from the viewscreen, he moved toward his chair. “How many people are aboard those ships, Lieutenant?”
“They have small crews, sir. Less than thirty life-forms each. Most of the interior space is devoted to propulsion, weapons, and especially storage.” Šmrhová shrugged. “These might be some kind of long-range cargo vessels that double as patrol ships.”
Picard said, “That wouldn’t be unusual. After all, Starfleet interplanetary missions in the late twenty-first and early twenty-second centuries performed similar duties.” Indeed, the capabilities of the first Starfleet vessels shuttling between Earth and other planets of its own home system were comparable and in some ways less advanced than what they were now seeing. He gestured to the screen. “Do they possess ship-to-ship communications?”
“Looks that way, sir,” replied Šmrhová. “But they’re not transmitting anything, even back to their homeworld, so it might take some time for the computer to compose an algorithm and a database for the universal translator.”
“I believe I can help with that, Lieutenant,” said Taurik, and Picard realized the Vulcan had been silent during the last few moments.
“Really?” asked Šmrhová, not even bothering to hide her surprise.
Taurik nodded, stepping closer to the tactical console. “Computer, decrypt and transfer all data from protected file Taurik Three One Delta Five to primary and secondary language memory banks. Voice authorization six eight six epsilon.”
A moment later, the feminine voice of the Enterprise’s main computer replied, “Decryption and transfer complete. Eizand linguistic database now installed in all language banks.”
“That’s some trick,” said Chen, stepping over to the command stations.
Directing his attention to Picard, Taurik replied, “I cannot take credit. This was information sent to me by Admiral Akaar.”
“How very thoughtful of him.” Picard fought to keep his voice neutral, but could not help the sarcastic remark. He had not been aware of that level of information being imparted by the admiral to Taurik, which meant that Akaar was still exerting influence on his “provisional liaison.”
I guess I’ll need to have another talk with the commander, and the admiral.
Rather than say anything further to Taurik, Picard instead turned back to the viewscreen. “Open a channel.”
“Frequency open, sir,” reported Šmrhová.
Rising from his chair, Picard pulled at the front of his uniform jacket before announcing for the intercom, “This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets. We’ve detected the approach of your vessels. We are on a mission of peaceful exploration and are new to this area of space. We welcome the opportunity to meet with you.”
When nothing happened after a moment, Šmrhová said, “They’re receiving our hail, Captain. Shall I resend the greeting?”
“No,” replied Picard. “Let’s give them time to absorb all of this.” Having participated in numerous first-contact situations over the course of his career, he always tried to wonder what the representatives of the other party were thinking during the opening moments of such a meeting. Fear? Uncertainty? Anticipation or hope? Picard had seen all of those reactions and everything in between, but he still did not consider himself an expert in these situations. There were too many variables, too many unknowns in any first contact with a new species, and that was before adding in the odd dynamic of this perhaps not even being such an encounter. It was obvious that Starfleet and perhaps members of the Federation government possessed knowledge of this system and the Eizand, but to what extent?
I suppose we’ll soon find out.
“We’re receiving a response, sir,” said Šmrhová. “It’s on a low-frequency band, but I can make the necessary adjustments. Signal is audio and visual. There’s also another communications frequency in operation, but it’s not aimed at us. Instead, it’s being directed back to the planet, Sralanya, via a string of communications relay stations scattered throughout the solar system.”
Looking up from her science station, Elfiki added, “I’ve been giving those a look, Captain. They’re definitely a form of communications network. Almost like an early version of our subspace relays. Even from their present distance away from their planet, they can still relay communications in near-real time. They’re maintaining an open frequency with someone back home. It’s encrypted, but with enough time I can get past that.”
“Very interesting,” said Picard. Who might be monitoring the ships and their actions? A senior military or government leader? Both scenarios made sense, but from this distance, the ramifications of such observations appeared minimal.
Nodding in approval at the reports, he nodded toward the viewscreen. “Lieutenant Elfiki, proceed with your decryption efforts. Lieutenant Šmrhová, let’s meet the welcoming committee.”
The image on the main viewscreen shifted to reveal a thin, pale humanoid dressed in a dark blue garment th
at to Picard appeared to be a uniform, with silver highlights along its shoulders and in a circular pattern over its right breast. Its skin was a dull white, speckled with raised, dark spots across its face and head, which was bald. A heavy brow, long, thin nose, and a narrow jaw and chin gave the alien a hawklike appearance as it stared at Picard with small, white eyes. The sides of the alien’s head were smooth, with only slight bulges beneath the skin that seemed to protect openings that might be for auditory canals. It said nothing for a moment, though its gaze locked on Picard and he felt as though he were being studied or sized up as a potential adversary. Only the alien stood in sharp relief, with the rest of whatever room in which he stood being rendered out of focus, doubtless as a measure to prevent Picard—or anyone else—from gleaning too much in the way of information or clues as to shipboard systems or other protected assets.
“Captain Picard, I am Alonijal, commander of the planetary security vessel Novradir.” The voice was a deep baritone, suggesting a male gender. “On behalf of the people of Sralanya, I order you to remain at your present position. Any attempt to approach our planet will be viewed as an act of aggression.”
Making sure that his hands were visible as his arms hung at his sides, Picard replied, “Commander Alonijal, it is not my intention to approach your planet until or unless invited. As I said before, my crew and I are on a mission of peaceful exploration. It is our desire to make new friends, not enemies.”
“And yet you trespass within our space, skulking about under stealth as though confident that we would not see you.” The Eizand’s eyes narrowed, his gaze remaining fixed on Picard. “It is a poor way to offer greetings, Captain.”
“Yes, I can certainly understand how you might perceive it that way. We were studying your planet while attempting to determine how best to make formal contact with your leaders, as we certainly don’t wish to alarm your people.” Picard paused, deciding to offer a small smile. “That you have initiated contact with us does simplify matters a great deal.”
Alonijal did not react to that statement, instead looking past Picard as though taking note of the other bridge officers he could see. There was a moment’s hesitation as the Eizand studied first Glinn Dygan and then Worf, before returning his attention to Picard.
“You seem to represent a number of different species, Captain. Where did you say you came from?”
Sensing an opportunity, Picard gestured to Chen, who nodded before stepping closer to the viewscreen.
“We represent the United Federation of Planets, Commander. It’s an interstellar cooperative of many worlds scattered across our area of the galaxy. We have come together over the course of many years in the interests of fostering mutual peace and support, and we each share the resources and cultures of our individual world with the others. As we continue to explore the galaxy, we always seek to extend the hand of friendship to whoever we might encounter.”
“This is Lieutenant Chen,” said Picard. “She represents just one of those many worlds.” He moved close enough so that he could place a hand on Glinn Dygan’s shoulder. “Indeed, my ship is home to beings from nearly thirty different planets. This officer is from a planet called Cardassia Prime.” Glancing away from the screen, he gestured to Worf. “My second-in-command represents the Klingon Empire. Both of these officers hail from worlds that once were our enemy, but which are now allies. I, along with a significant number of my crew, hail from another world called Earth.”
Any trace of curiosity, let alone warmth, vanished from Alonijal’s face. His stare turned glowering, even accusatory, as he regarded Picard.
“Did you say Earth?”
Forcing himself not to look away from the viewscreen, Picard fought to make sure his features remained composed. “Yes, that’s right.”
Without warning, Alonijal’s visage disappeared from the viewscreen, replaced with the image of the planet Sralanya and leaving Picard to regard his bridge officers.
“The transmission hasn’t been cut, sir,” said Šmrhová. “The connection’s still active, but they’re blocking our seeing or hearing them. I’m also picking up increased chatter on the frequency they’re using to stay connected with their homeworld.”
“Was it something we said?” asked Chen. “And how do they know about Earth?”
Frowning, Picard glanced to Taurik. “An interesting question.” He turned to Šmrhová. “Is there any change in their posture?”
The security chief replied, “They’re maintaining course and speed, sir. No signs of weapons activations. Their ships don’t have deflector shields, though they are fitted with a form of ablative armor.”
Worf said, “That other communication, sir. Alonijal may be requesting or receiving new information or instructions.”
“My thoughts exactly, Number One.” In and of itself, the action was not unusual, but Picard would have preferred some insight as to what was being discussed. He was about to ask Elfiki about the progress of her decryption efforts when Alonijal’s image returned to the viewscreen. Picard noted the Eizand’s expression was hard and fixed as he stared outward from his bridge or office or whatever room he currently occupied, the interior of which was once again blurred. His hands, held in front of him during the initial moments of their conversation, were now clasped behind his back.
“I have been in contact with my superiors, and I have been directed to escort you to Sralanya.”
Doing his best to keep his voice level, Picard replied, “May I ask for what purpose?”
Alonijal’s thin lips tightened and his pale eyes narrowed, as though he were contemplating not answering the question. Instead, he said, “Our leader wishes to speak with you, directly.”
It was the response he was hoping for, but Picard chose not to allow any reaction to this development. “That’s very good news, Commander. I appreciate that this sort of first-contact meeting can be rather stressful, but I assure you that we will proceed as your leader thinks best.”
“This is not our first time being contacted by outsiders, Captain.” Pausing, Alonijal directed his gaze to something Picard could not see, before facing forward once more. Maintaining his detached, suspicious demeanor, he said, “Upon our arrival at your location, my ships will maneuver into position to escort you. Any action against any of my vessels will force me to retaliate.”
“I assure you I will take no such action,” replied Picard. Then, because he felt the need to establish some boundaries before the Eizand ships arrived, he added, “However, I also will have no choice but to respond to anything I perceive as provocative. Let us both take steps to ensure that no undue actions occur here today, Commander.”
There was an obvious bristling at Picard’s veiled warning, and Alonijal’s only response was curt. “Agreed,” he snapped, before vanishing once more from the viewscreen.
“I don’t think he likes us very much,” said Chen.
Returning to his command chair, Picard released a small grunt. “Apparently not. Commander Worf, your evaluation?”
“It is obvious they do not trust us,” replied the Klingon.
“Understandable, given the circumstances.” Picard glanced over his shoulder. “Mister Taurik, do you have any additional insights you wish to share?”
Stepping away from the bridge’s rear engineering stations, Taurik replied, “Not at this time, sir.”
“Perhaps you or Admiral Akaar might see fit to enlighten us as to how these people are aware of Earth’s existence. Something tells me that’s going to weigh heavily during our meeting with their leader.”
The engineer said, “I will make an immediate inquiry to the admiral, sir.”
“Grand.”
How was it possible that these people had come to know about Earth? Had they encountered one of the survey probes mapping the Odyssean Pass, decades earlier? According to the Starfleet data records, there had been no prior contact with the Eizand, but given Admiral Akaar’s cryptic messages and his meeting with Taurik, it was obvious to Picard tha
t there was more here than would ever be found in any official report.
His fingertips making their own random tapping patterns on his chair’s armrests, the captain considered the image of Sralanya that once again dominated the viewscreen. So many questions, he decided. Were the answers to be found on this lone, unassuming world?
We’ll find out, soon enough.
5
Isle of Arran, Off the Coast of Scotland
March 17, 2031
“It was touch and go there for a while, but I think he’ll pull through.”
Turning from the fireplace and its welcome, soothing heat, Mestral saw Natalie Koroma descending the wooden stairs that led to the farmhouse’s sleeping rooms as well as what passed for its infirmary.
“Is he conscious?” asked Mestral.
Koroma grimaced, running one hand across the top of her head and her shoulder-length black hair as she moved to stand next to him by the fire. “I gave him a pretty strong sedative. He’ll likely be out for at least sixteen hours. The rest will do him good.”
As she spoke, Mestral heard the fatigue in her voice, which seemed to bring out more of the accent that sometimes laced her speech. To the practiced ear, it was easy to identify her as hailing from the area of West Africa now known as Sierra Leone, though so far as he knew, Koroma had only visited that region, making her the first of her family line in centuries to do so. Her ancestors, like others taken from Earth and other worlds by the Aegis, had spent uncounted generations in preparation for their deployment in service to the mysterious organization and its largely unknown though seemingly benign goals.
“Sleep is an oft-overlooked aspect of the healing process.”
“Maybe you can teach him one of those Vulcan healing trances.” Koroma smiled. “Better yet, teach me. I could use a nap that lasts about a week.” Covering her mouth, she stifled a yawn. “Sorry.”
“No apologies are needed. If you wish to retire for a brief rest, I can work with the Beta 7 to obtain information and help us with our next course of action.” For the first time, Mestral noted the flecks marking the ebony skin of her right cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked, gesturing to indicate her face.
