by Rudy Josephs
From his spot on the ground floor, Picard could see flashes of different styles of artwork on each floor above: sculptures on the first floor, paintings on the second and third, pottery seemed to be on the fourth. The other floors were too high for Picard to see from his angle on the ground floor, but the building was tall enough to suggest it was stocked with more artwork than one could fully examine in a week.
At floor level, jewel-encrusted statues lined the walkway that led to the entrance to the interior building. It was the first glimpse they had of the populace that had once inhabited this planet, assuming the statues had been carved in their likeness. The statues were tall and slim, the muscles well defined. In times past on Earth they would have been referred to as having a swimmer’s build. Their faces were more angular than rounded, with literally squared jaw lines and sharp bone structure jutting out beneath the eyes and behind the ears.
The jewels that were placed in the eyes and accenting the clothes on the statues sparkled with an internal light. They were likely unique in the galaxy. Even if they littered the planet, to a Ferengi they would be worth their weight in latinum. He could see Vash calculating their value by the way she studied each piece in a casual manner—she appeared to be merely taking in the room. Picard doubted he was the only one on to her.
“Just so we’re clear,” Burinda said, “I claim this find on this abandoned planet for myself . . . and my Nausicaan friend here.”
Goztik grunted with a curt nod of his head.
Vash tore her gaze from the nearest statue. “If you can find a way home, you can have it,” she said with a shrug.
It was a rare, miscalculated comment, in Picard’s opinion. Burinda pounced right on it. “Hmmm . . . I wonder what more interesting treasures this planet might hold.” She turned to the Nausicaan. “I think our companions are holding out on us.”
Goztik replied by pulling a disruptor pistol from his belt, confirming Picard’s suspicions about his being armed.
“Guess we were the only ones sent here without the benefit of technology,” Vash said, as she and Picard raised their hands.
“We have no issue with you, Goztik,” Picard said. “You and Burinda are free to have whatever treasures this planet offers. We just want to get home.”
“You’re being a little free with unclaimed discoveries, Jean-Luc,” Vash said through clenched teeth.
Picard didn’t bother to keep his voice low. “At the moment we have no way off this planet, nor do we even know where we are. What we have, or have not, found is of little importance. I suggest we work together to find a way off this planet and then worry about divvying up whatever spoils we may find.”
“Why, that plan is almost Vulcan in its logic,” Q said, as he materialized atop the statue of a creature similar to a horse. “But let’s see how it holds up when someone throws in a twist.”
Goztik swung his disruptor around, training it on Q.
“You might as well put that away,” Burinda said. “Q could turn it into a water pistol with the blink of an eye.”
Goztik did not lower his weapon.
“Good to see you again, Burinda!” Q said, with a tip of an invisible hat.
“Wish I could say the same,” Burinda replied.
“Yes, well, let’s dispense with the pleasantries,” Q said. “You’re wondering why I’ve pulled you from the Gamma Quadrant and brought you here. And—more important, I assume—you’re wondering where here is.”
“Q,” Vash interrupted, “I thought this was an adventure for me and Jean-Luc.”
Q waved her off. “Yes, well, your adventure was a little boring. I wanted to spice things up a bit.” He turned his attention to Burinda and Goztik. “Just so you know what I’ve gotten you into, you are on the planet Myndra. If that name seems familiar—”
“The Collection of Time and Space,” Burinda said, eyes wide as she took in the museum around her with new focus.
Picard turned to Vash, who shrugged in response. He assumed that was the name for the Treasure of the Ancients in the Gamma Quadrant. There were so many legends of the treasure where Picard was from, it only stood to reason that the story had shifted and evolved as it traveled through other parts of the galaxy as well.
“Oh, it’s not in this building, I assure you,” Q said. “But it is close. I figured inviting you along for the game, Burinda, would make up for that nasty bit of business I left you with on Kigus III.”
“It doesn’t,” Burinda replied. “But it is a start.”
“And me?” Goztik asked. “Why am I here? I know none of you people.”
Q shrugged. “Nausicaans always add a certain . . . je ne sais quoi. Besides, Picard is always so much more fun when one is around.”
“Enough, Q,” Picard said.
“Oh, Jean-Luc.” Q hopped up from his seated position on the carved steed. “When are you going to learn that enough is never enough for me?” He stood on the sculpture, balancing precariously on the saddle. “So, now, to sweeten the pot, as they say . . . the person that finds the treasure first gets a one-way ticket home. Or to the destination of their choosing. The rest of you are on your own. Now, allow me to clear your path.” With a wave of his hand, the barricade they’d reconstructed disappeared. “I’ve distracted those wild beasts for the moment, so you’re free to leave. Happy hunting!”
Q disappeared before they could argue.
“The Collection of Time and Space,” Burinda repeated with awe. “What a surprise this day is turning out to be.”
“Don’t think you can trust Q, even if you do find the treasure,” Vash warned. “I’ve made that mistake before, Burinda. We should discuss our options.”
“And give you a chance to pull one over on me?” Burinda belted out a forced laugh. “Not very likely. Seeing as how you two are already a team, I suggest Goztik and I go our own way—”
Goztik grunted again, with a nod of ascent.
“—and may the best team win.”
There was no point in debating. Goztik kept his pistol trained on Picard and Vash as he and Burinda made their way through the doors. Once outside, Goztik fired a long, sustained pulse at the doorframe, melting the metal and sealing them inside.
Picard and Vash stood in the middle of the empty atrium, examining their next move.
“Seems a little suspicious that Q would be so helpful in pointing the way out of the museum, isn’t it?” Vash said.
“Possibly,” Picard agreed. “But he would expect us to be suspicious of him, would he not?”
Vash sighed. “You just described my entire time traveling the galaxy with him. Always second-guessing every move he made. We’re here now. Might as well get a good look at things before it’s too dark in here to see anything.”
Picard agreed. With the sun setting, the natural light was going to be limited. Thankfully the museum, with its glass dome, let in a lot of that light. There was no guarantee things would be as clear on a moonlit night. Assuming there even was a moon. It would be best to find out what they could as quickly as possible.
The atrium opened up into an even larger room that housed a collection of different styles of artwork. The theme was disjointed. No two pieces were alike, and yet, like the structure of the building itself, there was something familiar about all of them.
“Maybe it’s a preview,” Vash suggested. “Showcasing what the museum holds.”
Each piece did seem to correspond with what he had managed to see on the higher levels from the atrium. An odd idea for a museum to mix styles like that, but he had seen far stranger things in his travels. And that feeling of familiarity kept nagging at him.
Picard approached a statue made from a variety of copperlike materials. It seemed more pliable than the metal, having been bent at a variety of angles. The entire piece fit into an ovular shape. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Picard said. “But does this not seem Cardassian in design?”
Vash examined the piece more closely. “Cardassians would never mix metals like t
hat, but I get what you’re saying. It does seem to have those influences.”
“And this one.” Picard had moved over to a painting. “This could be a Betazoid pastoral. It matches all the traditional styles, and yet . . .”
Vash completed the thought: “I’ve never seen that kind of plant life on Betazed.” She moved to a tapestry depicting a battle among the Myndrans, with all the combatants mounted on steeds like the sculpture Q had stood upon in the atrium. “This is almost straight out of a Klingon text.”
“But the fabrics are unlike any I’ve ever seen before.” Picard gently slid a finger along the dusty edge of the wall hanging. “Or felt.”
“This cinches it for me,” Vash said. “The Treasure of the Ancients is real. And it is here. It has to be. If not in this museum, then definitely on this planet. These people have clearly been influenced by the artwork of alien races that live thousands of light-years away.”
Picard nodded. It was impossible to disagree with the facts in front of his eyes and under his touch. Coincidence could explain one or two similar art styles on the alien planet. But from his cursory look at the room, he already counted more than a half-dozen influences from different societies he recognized at different times in history. A closer look would likely uncover more similarities, and Picard knew only a small fraction of art that existed in the vast galaxy.
What Picard was familiar with hardly mattered. There were enough clashing styles in the room that he found it hard to trust that a single race could explore so many different concepts in a thousand lifetimes.
Their suspicions were confirmed as they climbed higher into the museum. Familiar human influences were present in much of the art they saw, but nothing that pointed their way to the source material. Everything in the museum seemed to ultimately be Myndran in design. It was clear from the materials used and the humanoid subjects of the imagery. None of the art showed an alien race, only what they assumed to be the indigenous species.
They even found some artwork featuring images of the creatures that had been giving chase since they’d arrived on the planet.
As they finished exploring the top level of the museum, Picard watched as the last sliver of sunlight dipped beneath the edge of the dome. “We should return to ground level before we lose the light.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” Vash moved toward a white stone nestled into the wall. It glowed faintly but with increasing brightness as the ambient light dimmed.
Picard joined her by the stone. “It seems to be solar powered, but is it naturally occurring or technological?”
“I’m going to assume natural,” Vash said. “Or else I can’t imagine how it would still be functioning after all this time. Ultimately, I don’t care. If it lets us search the museum, I’m all for it. There’s probably some secret room or maybe an underground chamber where they keep the source of their inspiration.”
Picard’s skepticism showed on his face. “I don’t think the treasure would be in this museum.”
“Why is that?”
“These people are obviously proud of what they have collected. Otherwise they wouldn’t be so bold as to use it in their art. These artists must have seen the treasure to be inspired by it.”
“So they wouldn’t hide it,” Vash said, catching on to Picard’s line of thought. “They’d display it.”
“I wouldn’t suspect they have a museum devoted to showing off the treasure.” Picard motioned to the artwork around them. “That’s the point of what we see here: It wouldn’t be in the museum itself. This has been established to show what the Myndrans can do with their inspiration.”
“Are you suggesting the Myndrans weren’t thieves?” Vash said. “That they were artists?”
“Let’s examine what we do know about this culture,” Picard said, pacing the room. “The Myndrans are said to have traveled the galaxy stealing treasure from pre-warp societies. Why did they do that?”
“To sell them back to those worlds when they did become technologically advanced and had more to offer the Myndrans,” Vash said. “Sort of like the Borg, in a way. They took from other races, integrated it into their own, and then returned it, taking something else in exchange.”
“But there has never been a tale of them returning any of the artwork and asking for something in exchange,” Picard pointed out.
“Because something caused them to die out before they could.”
“Perhaps,” Picard allowed. “Maybe they took the art to preserve it. To draw inspiration from it. Maybe their motivations weren’t greed.”
“So we’re back to thinking the treasure is in a vault somewhere?”
“It’s protected,” he replied. “But maybe not very well hidden.”
“Then what’s our next move, Jean-Luc?” Vash asked.
“I’d like to know that myself,” a voice said from the shadows.
7
“Beverly!” Thousands of light-years from home, on a mysterious planet not found on any chart, and yet she had managed to track him down. He wondered if he would ever know this woman’s depth.
As the glow from the stones brightened to fill more of the room, he was delighted to see his intended stepping into the light. She was dressed in the outfit she’d been wearing before this adventure began, though, oddly, she carried a beige helmet with her.
It took only a few steps to cover the distance between them and all was right in the galaxy. Having her back in his arms was natural. It was where she was meant to be. “How did you—”
“Q,” she replied. “Another one. She’s actually a lot more reasonable than the one we know. She refused to bring you home, but she had no problem sending me to meet you. Especially once I convinced her how much it would annoy the Q that sent you here. You should meet her sometime.”
“I think I could forgo that pleasure if it meant never seeing another Q for the rest of my life,” Picard replied.
“Wouldn’t that be a nice wedding gift?” Crusher released him and held out her hand. “Hello, Vash. You left your pith helmet behind.”
Vash took the hat from her. “Pith helmet? I wasn’t wearing a pith helmet.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Crusher said. “It was likely part of Q’s plan to seduce me. Convince me that you’d gone off willingly with an ex-girlfriend so that I’d have to fall into his arms, racked with jealousy.”
Picard laughed at the mere idea. “That is a story I’d like to hear sometime.”
Vash examined the hat and finally decided to wear it, placing it on her head and giving it a little tap on the dome. “Just so we’re clear: I had nothing to do with this.”
“You mean you’re not the woman from Jean-Luc’s past come to ruin our wedding?” Crusher patted Vash’s hand. “Don’t worry, I never took you to be so clichéd. Q, on the other hand . . .”
“Glad we got that out of the way.” Vash released Crusher’s hand and turned her attention to the stones on the wall. They’d reached full brightness, illuminating the room in a warm glow. “Jean-Luc, why don’t you bring her up to speed while I try to get some of these stones off the wall. If we’re going back out on the streets, we’ll need the extra light.”
Picard wasn’t so sure the natural wall sconces were removable. “Are you sure—”
“Just . . . talk with your fiancée,” Vash said. “I’ll be fine without you.”
Picard watched as Vash examined one wall sconce, looking for a way to remove it. Sometimes it was hard to remember that underneath the bravado was a person with the same insecurities as anyone else. Yes, she and Picard had both moved on in their own ways, but it was not easy seeing someone you’d once cared about with another.
Picard filled Beverly in on what had happened since they’d arrived on Myndra. She shared his skepticism about the mythical treasure but was intrigued by what had caused the death of the populace. It was an expected reaction from his CMO.
“It is possible that the rest of the planet is teeming with people,” Pic
ard said. “We’ve only seen one city so far. Could this simply be under quarantine? Could we be in danger?”
“Not likely,” Crusher replied. “From the way you described the state of the bodies you found, it sounds as if whatever happened occurred a long time ago. A lot of time had to pass for them to decompose to that level while they were inside, protected from the elements. I’d also assume there would be remains on the streets.”
Picard shook his head. “Could they have been removed by survivors?”
“It’s possible,” she allowed. “But I’d assume the indigenous animal life did that job. I suspect you would have come across random bones scattered about if you hadn’t mostly been traveling by rooftop. If it were some kind of chemical or biological attack, most dangers would have dissipated by now. I can’t think of many reasons to have left this city completely undisturbed for such a long time.”
“At the very least someone would have looted the place by now,” Vash agreed. She held two of the smaller glowing stones in her hands, matching two holes that now sat in the walls. “Museums are always the first to go.”
Crusher moved to the window. From this angle they had a good view of the city center, where the buildings were taller and almost as impressive as the museum. “Either that or the government would have destroyed the city to prevent others from entering and risk exposing other worlds.”
Picard joined her by the window. The streets were similarly lit by streetlamps with the glowing stones, but they were still shaded in mystery. He could tell by the look on Beverly’s face that she was hooked into the possibilities as well. “You’re on to something.”
“Maybe. I’d like to get a better look at the city.” Beverly smiled. “See if we can find some more bodies. If these people had the technology to travel great distances and presumably teleport these treasures they collected, why wouldn’t they evacuate the planet and take everything with them? If the Borg didn’t get these people, what did?”
Vash handed each of them a glowing stone. “The hunt continues.”
The rest of the museum was brightly lit, making their own makeshift flashlights superfluous while inside. It wasn’t hard to find another exit to the huge complex, which made Burinda and Gostik’s attempt to seal them in pointless. Picard wasn’t worried about the considerable head start they’d given themselves. The pair were as likely to find random clues in the large, abandoned city as they had been in the museum.
