Star Trek: The Next Generation - 117 - Q are Cordially Uninvited...

by Rudy Josephs

  Once Picard had ascertained that the exit was clear of any creatures, they made their way out into the streets of the city. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but the shadows were long from the buildings that grew taller the farther in they went. Lamps lining the roadway bore the same glowing stones that had been in the walls of the museum, though these were considerably larger, giving off more light. Their own lights weren’t needed for the moment, but they decided to hold on to them in case they were needed later.

  Beverly had been right: Now that they were spending more time on the ground, they did find some slivers of bone scattered about. Tooth marks on the bones indicated that she’d also been right about scavengers getting to them. Now that they knew what to look for, the clues became easier to find. But they still did not know what it all meant.

  This was not how Picard had imagined spending the eve of his wedding. As captain of the flagship of the fleet, he was accustomed to the unexpected. His own life had been more unpredictable than it would have been if he’d stayed in France to work the family vineyard.

  Still, sometimes he’d dreamed of a life of routine: a simple, small ceremony at his family home. Just him, the woman he loved, and witnesses. Then he’d return to the Enterprise and continue the adventure with Beverly by his side. Q had been wrong to think that Picard needed one last adventure before he “settled down.” He wasn’t “settling” for Beverly; this was the life he had wanted from the first time he saw her. That thought carried him through the empty streets as their search moved indoors.

  Beverly mumbled something unintelligible while studying the body of a long-dead corpse. They had pushed their way through another barricaded door. Here, though, the barricades were on the outside, and they were considerably more formidable. The doors were all locked as well, but Beverly wanted to see what was inside.

  The building they’d chosen had been a restaurant of some kind. The tables had been pushed together into beds with decaying remains laid out at rest. A few bodies were curled up on the floor, bones jutting out at all angles. By Picard’s count, there were three dozen bodies: the first real evidence of some kind of mass event that must have killed the populace quickly enough that they died where they were. Yet, there was still enough time to allow for the barricades to be erected in what was appearing more and more likely to be a quarantine zone.

  Picard kept one eye on the street through the picture window. The road remained empty of both animals and competition, but he was more focused on the sense of déjà vu it evoked. He felt like he was on Bajor. The buildings were cylindrical in design, many topped by small domes. Even the coloring was the same shades of clay and copper. The street stood in stark contrast to the one they had just come from, which had more of a Klingon feel, with buildings in the shape of pyramids like those found on Qo’noS.

  The other streets in the neighborhood were similarly designed, jumping from influence to influence in each city block. Some were familiar to Picard, while others were totally alien. It was further evidence that this was the planet of rumor with stolen treasures from across the universe. But those stories never suggested that the people were anything more than thieves.

  “Interesting,” Crusher said, largely to herself. Her voice pulled Picard out of his musings again.

  “Solved the mystery?” Vash asked. She’d sat herself on a counter, beside another body, as if unaware of it being someone’s resting place. They’d been on their feet for hours, and when they first entered the restaurant, she’d said she needed a rest and the deceased certainly wouldn’t mind.

  “I’m good,” Crusher said as she stood. “But not that good. Without a tricorder or even the most basic medical equipment, I couldn’t begin to guess what killed these people. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn something from them.”

  Picard moved away from the window to join her. “Such as?”

  “The barricades suggest a quarantine,” Crusher said, with a nod toward the door. “A hastily arranged quarantine, to be specific. Informal. These people didn’t have time to get the infected to hospitals. They just locked them in where they were.”

  It was as Picard suspected. “A people with access to the kind of technology suggested by the legends would not have to rely on piling debris in front of buildings for a quarantine. Or physically carrying the victims to hospitals.”

  “Precisely,” Crusher said. “Some barricaded themselves inside. Others made sure the disease didn’t spread by doing the opposite. The barricades on the outside of the doors were likely put there from irrational fear rather than actual necessity. No one was thinking clearly by the time they went up.”

  “So we’re not dealing with zombies?” Vash asked, eyeing the body beside her as if she was waiting for it to rise.

  “Not likely,” Crusher said, smiling.

  Vash hopped off the counter. “So how does that help us?”

  “I have a theory,” Crusher replied. “It’s a little bit out there.”

  “Beverly, we’re on a dead planet at some indeterminate location in the galaxy, searching for a legendary treasure, all thanks to some powerful being that kidnapped us on the eve of our wedding for some nefarious and purely illogical reason,” Picard reminded her. “We cannot possibly be any more ‘out there’ than we already are.”

  “Good point,” she replied with a sigh. “I was thinking of the curse of the pharaohs.”

  Picard nodded, not sure where she was going with this line of thought but trusting that she had considered it thoroughly.

  Vash had no such illusions. “Really, Doctor? I expected more from you. There’s no such thing.”

  “Yes, Vash, I know,” Beverly replied evenly. “I do work in medicine. But bear with me. I might have an idea of what happened here.”

  Picard gave Vash a warning glance. He didn’t think Vash had spoken out of jealousy or anything so trivial. She just tended to be blunt, particularly when someone was discussing her field of expertise. Still, he couldn’t help but feel protective. “Go on, Beverly.”

  “Maybe because we’re on a treasure hunt, I was thinking about all the deaths supposedly associated with the tombs of the Egyptian pharaohs.”

  “Coincidental deaths,” Vash added lightly.

  Beverly ignored her. “It’s not the deaths so much that interest me as the reasons people came up with over the years to explain them. One of the prevalent theories was that there was some kind of bacteria collecting in the tombs that infected anyone who entered.”

  “Beverly, I hate to contradict you, but Doctor Miles Kamish disproved those theories in the twenty-third century,” Picard said.

  Beverly paused. “I never realized how difficult it is to discuss archaeology with those who have studied it in the field.”

  Picard gave her a sheepish look and nodded for her to continue.

  “Thank you,” she said with a wry smile. “While I do know those theories were disproven, I think it’s possible something like that happened here. If this supposed treasure was stolen from all over the galaxy, maybe these pirates or collectors or whatever you want to call them got more than they’d bargained for. Perhaps some kind of bacterial hitchhiker stowed away on a piece of artwork. Something that reacted badly when it was introduced to a new ecosystem. It would have been harmless on the planet it originated, but deadly here to these people.”

  “Like The War of the Worlds,” Picard said.

  “The H. G. Wells story?” Vash asked. “The fictional H. G. Wells story?”

  Picard smiled. Beverly was right: It was sometimes difficult to discuss theories with an archaeologist, even among those who were trained in the science.

  “A microbial infection killed the so-called Martians that invaded Earth in that story,” Crusher said. “But we don’t have to look to fiction or superstitions for our theory. There are countless examples of races being unable to survive any number of conditions that do not exist on their homeworld. It’s one of the bases of our planet classification system so we know when it’s safe t
o explore a world and when it isn’t.”

  “A sound theory, Doctor,” Picard said. “And while it is something worth exploring on a larger scale in the future should we ever return to this planet, I am having a difficult time understanding how it helps us in our present situation.”

  Beverly smiled with the pride of a novice showing up the experts. “If this treasure is the cause of some plague that killed everyone on this planet, all we have to do is trace it back to its point of origin through the quarantine zone. The treasure will be found at ground zero.”

  8

  “None of these buildings are barricaded,” Vash said, pushing a door open. “Inside or out. The doors aren’t locked. There don’t seem to be any dead inside.”

  “I guess that means we’re getting close,” Beverly replied as she led.

  They’d been traveling for hours, making a circuitous journey through the city. At first it had seemed like the plague—if that’s what it was—had been directly at the center of town. They had been moving in that direction until the barricades changed from the outsides of the buildings to the insides once again. It was just as Picard and Vash had encountered when they’d arrived. Their working theory was that people trapped themselves indoors to protect against the spread of the plague as it widened. That suggested these people had been moving away from ground zero.

  It had been a relatively uncomplicated trek through the streets. A few times they had to take cover from the animals that stalked the streets at night. But these were not stealthy creatures, and they had plenty of warning before it was necessary to hide.

  They did not cross paths with Burinda and Goztik, though at several points Picard felt the sensation that they were being watched. He’d learned years before not to dismiss inexplicable sensations like that, but thus far none of them had proven to be real. At least he had not found any definitive evidence that anyone was in the vicinity.

  Even with the occasional pit stops and diverted routes to see if they were not alone, it was a fascinating journey through a dead planet. Picard had witnessed the remains of extinct societies before, both in his studies and in his travels. It was always surprising how races reacted to massive threats. There were usually similarities in group behavior when fear took over, but each society told a different story. He could read the tale of the Myndrans like the rings of a tree.

  Q had deposited Picard and Vash at the beginning, with the last line of defense on the outer edges of the city. People locked themselves away, hoping the disease did not find them. They were already in enough of a weakened state that they could not build substantial barricades, but tried whatever they could to hold on to that last attempt at something, anything, that would save them.

  The barricades grew stronger as they moved into the city. That was where people still had the strength to protect themselves, when they thought they could keep the spread contained. The barricades went from outside the buildings to inside, when the focus shifted from protecting the populace to individuals saving themselves.

  They’d reached what they now thought to be the inner ring with the buildings that had no barricades. The doors were unlocked and welcoming, as if everyone was simply at home, tucked in for the night.

  “Ground zero,” Beverly said as they finished their tour of the periphery. The completely abandoned section of the city stretched out for roughly six square city blocks—“square” being a relative term, since it wasn’t as if someone had blocked off a perfect quarantine area. Random buildings with barricades peppered the area that backed up against a waterway that cut through the back end of the city.

  “The treasure should be in one of the buildings in the vicinity,” Picard said with a resigned sigh. The structures were in the most crowded section of the city. Skyscrapers mingled with smaller buildings, as well as a vast complex along the outer edge of the area that took up an entire city block on its own.

  “That’s got to be at least a hundred possibilities,” Vash noted. “I still can’t make heads or tails of the street signs or writing on any of the buildings. How do we narrow it down? We could be searching this section of town for the rest of the week.”

  “Maybe we should rest for a bit,” Crusher suggested. “Catch our breath.”

  Vash sat on a long-abandoned bench. “Good idea, Doctor. I haven’t walked this much since the time I got lost in the desert outside Gol when I was looking for the Vulcan . . . never mind.”

  Picard closed his eyes and ignored what Vash had almost said. It was better not to question what potential item of historical significance she might have absconded with from one of the galaxy’s most ancient people. He did not choose to ignore the fact that she was staring up at the sky again.

  He’d first noticed her doing that in the museum as the sun set beyond the dome, while she was taking the glowing stones out of the wall. She’d thought he was just talking to Beverly at the time, but he’d had his eye on her as well.

  Her gaze rose to the heavens more frequently as the night grew darker and the stars had come out. It was more than just stargazing. Picard could see it had a purpose. “Plotting the constellations?”

  Vash smiled. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

  “It was either that or you were nursing a nosebleed in an ill-advised fashion,” Picard joked.

  “I just want to be prepared,” Vash said. “In case Q returns us home without the treasure. If I can locate the celestial bodies on some kind of map, it might be possible to find my way back.”

  “And how would you do that?” Crusher asked. “It’s not like you can hitch a ride on the next transport to the Delta Quadrant.”

  “If I’ve learned anything from being friends with Captain Picard of the Starship Enterprise,” Vash said, “it’s that anything is possible when it comes to space travel.”

  Picard understood. If the Voyager crew could make their way across seventy thousand light-years in a fraction of the time it should have taken, he had no doubt that Vash would find a way to get to the very edge of the galaxy with the proper motivation. The Treasure of the Ancients was exactly the right kind of motivation.

  “Do you ever wonder what things would have been like had you stayed in Q’s company?” Picard asked. “Adventures like this could have been commonplace by now.”

  “Then they would no longer be adventures, would they?” She let out a deep sigh. “Truthfully, yes. I wonder all the time. But as much as my lifestyle is a nice break for you, Q’s antics are nothing more than an entertainment for him. I can’t live like that. It’s too hectic. Too frenetic.” She caught Picard’s smile. “Yes, Jean-Luc. Even for me.”

  “Do you regret trying to live like that?” he asked, knowing the question was loaded. If she had stayed in the Alpha Quadrant and had been able to communicate with him more often, or even visit, things could have turned out much differently for them.

  “Not for a moment.” Vash raised her head to look back up at the star-filled sky. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some stars to plot.”

  “By all means,” Picard said. “I do believe I see a triple star system peeking out past the edge of that building. It will likely help you with your mental star chart.”

  “Thanks, Jean-Luc.”

  Picard left her to focus on the skies. He understood what she’d been saying. Vash had come back from her travels with Q years before. She and Picard had had barely any contact since then.

  He went to join his intended on what looked to be the remains of a bench a few feet away. There were many things he wanted to say to Beverly—not the least of which was his appreciation for her literally crossing the galaxy to find him—but now didn’t seem the time for words. Instead, both lifted their eyes to the sky to see the stars that Vash studied. They were likely the only humans to ever view them from this angle. Might as well enjoy it while they were there.

  After a few minutes, Picard stood to consider their options. From their position, two streets branched off into the area they’d termed “ground zero.”
He looked to Beverly. “Any suggestions, based on your observations?”

  Beverly shook her head and shrugged. “Obviously, it would be one of the buildings in the center of the area.”

  “That narrows it down to fifty,” Vash said as she joined them. “Still a complicated search. Time is limited. I haven’t seen the competition, but I doubt they’re too far behind us.”

  Picard started moving down the street to his right. “There must be a logical way to narrow the search. Beverly, are there any other clues to the possible path of this infection across the city?”

  “Not that I can think of,” Crusher replied. “Too much time has passed. The animals and the elements have erased any clues I could find without a tricorder.”

  “Are we sure we’re even on the right path?” Vash asked. “We’ve moved so far away from what looked to be the arts district. I would have thought that art treasures would have been stored there.”

  Picard stopped to examine the buildings around him. “You’re right, Vash. I don’t recognize any artistic influences from any recognizable races in these buildings. They are almost uniform in their alien design.”

  “And boring,” Vash added.

  Picard couldn’t disagree. The supposed arts district had dramatic extremes in architectural influences, from giant Grecian columns to the massive domed museum to the obelisk. Even the buildings at the outer edge of town had some small touches of interesting visual elements. The structures at this end of the city were simpler, more basic. These were almost . . .

  “A blank canvas,” Picard said.

  Crusher and Vash looked at him questioningly, waiting for more.