A Time to Die

by John Vornholt

  “That was the intention,” answered Nechayev. “The Enterprise is still testing her repairs. After that, she has a survey mission. Riker is acting captain. Are we on our final offer to the Ontailians?”

  “We’re going to let them run things at Rashanar. Starfleet will have very specific missions and zones of responsibility,” Nakamura predicted with confidence.

  “They’ll turn it down,” she said.

  He bristled at the suggestion. “They can’t do better than this, unless they want to keep us out permanently.”

  “Right,” said Nechayev. “Just remember, when it falls apart, we can still do black ops inside Rashanar. It might even be safer.”

  “Black ops? Safer?” scoffed Nakamura. “Alynna, I know you always want to rely on espionage, but in this case it won’t be necessary.”

  “Brewster here had a good idea,” she said, taking a moment to find the ensign leaning against the wall. “We could send small craft into Rashanar disguised as illegal salvagers.”

  The Traveler cleared his throat. “Actually it was Counselor Cabot’s idea.”

  “I see.” Nakamura slapped his palms on his thick thighs and began to pace. “So now you would invite the Ontailians to fire on us! You would also compete with the real looters, who might not take too kindly to this idea, and you’d be operating without a safety net.”

  Nechayev shook her head and replied, “The idea of any safety net inside that graveyard is a delusion. I’ve been reading the reports. It looks to me that a larger ship could slip in, find a place to hide, play dead, and act as a base for our fake looters. I’m just telling you that we have an alternative other than war, if negotiations fail.”

  “Don’t do anything else until you talk to me,” warned Nakamura as he strode toward the door and exited.

  As soon as the admiral was gone, Nechayev tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Brewster, tell the Enterprise to take off for their survey mission as soon as possible.”

  “I’m on my way. Good-bye, Admiral.” By the time the door slid shut behind him, the Traveler was in a corridor aboard the Enterprise.

  “We can’t get all of our crew back that quickly,” complained Commander Riker, leaning over Data’s shoulder at the ops console. Looking on were Dr. Crusher and Captain Picard. “We’d have to go on the survey at about one-fourth crew strength, with the reactant injector untested. Doctor, it would help if I knew where this advice was coming from.”

  “It came from Ensign Brewster, the aide to Admiral Nechayev, after her meeting with Admiral Nakamura. I think she sent him to me because she didn’t want this to be an official order. Just good advice,” Beverly replied.

  “We could even go at impulse power,” said Picard, “while La Forge finishes work on the warp engines. If need be, there are lots of repair bases around the asteroid belt. I wouldn’t ignore advice from Ensign Brewster.”

  “What about Counselor Cabot,” asked Riker. “Is she willing to ship out with us?”

  “She’s here, isn’t she?” replied Crusher. “She knows we’re not a colony or a space station, but a starship. With warp drive, we could have her home in half an hour if she whines too much. Listen, we’ve got all our senior staff. Data can do the survey.”

  “The doctor has a point there,” remarked the android. “The demands are relatively simple.”

  “Should we call back as many of the crew as we can find on short notice?” asked Riker. “Or should we just go?”

  “If we’ve got enough crew for the tests, we’ve got enough crew for the mission,” answered Picard. “If we put out the word we’re leaving, the wrong people may find out.”

  “All right,” answered the acting captain, making his decision. “Data, find out from La Forge how soon we can depart.”

  “Ensign Brewster is going too,” added Beverly Crusher. “Sort of a liaison with Admiral Nechayev.”

  Riker waved his arms, giving up. “Okay, we’re going on a mission with three-fourths of our crew missing, but several unofficial passengers, including our captain. This doesn’t look to be our typical journey.”

  “When do we ever have a typical journey?” asked Crusher with a wry smile.

  We’re moving, thought the Traveler as he stood in the newly assigned guest quarters of Ensign Brewster. The place where he really wanted to be was only two doors away, the stateroom of one Colleen Cabot, but he was frozen in indecision. How am I going to approach her? What am I going to say? Out of all the rules of being a Traveler he had already broken, becoming intimately involved in the lives of those he observed was the most egregious.

  I may not be a Traveler much longer, he told himself. He thought he could feel it becoming harder to pull off his miraculous feats, although in subtle ways he couldn’t explain, like walking in heavier gravity. He didn’t know if it was his own failings, a lack of focus, or his fellow Travelers drawing away from him—but it felt that resistance was increasing. He wondered, Does observation strengthen the lens, while intervention weakens it? For certain he knew one thing: When the last of his fellowship stopped experiencing this vigil, he would be cut off from their combined focus. He would again be just Wesley Crusher, mustered out of Starfleet and unemployed.

  So the sooner I embrace that unfamiliar persona, the better.

  Wes thought he heard a nearby door open and shut, and he fought the temptation to surprise Colleen in her room. He didn’t know who might be with her. It was the Traveler who intrigued the counselor, not Wesley Crusher or Ensign Brewster.

  For the moment, I am the Traveler and I am Wesley Crusher. Why should I behave any differently around her?

  Walking out of his quarters and down the corridor, the young man looked like his true self in the gray, unadorned garb of the Traveler. Of course, he knew there were few crew members on board, and could mentally befuddle one or two if he passed them. The real question remained: Why don’t I want to tell my shipmates that I’ve returned? I told my mother and two complete strangers, but I can’t tell my old comrades that Wesley is back. Why not?

  He didn’t like any of the possible answers: Maybe I don’t want to be that nebbish kid who kept saving the Enterprise, when that’s why I’m here. Maybe I just don’t want to explain what I’ve been doing or where I’ve been. Every time I come back to the Enterprise, it’s because I’ve failed somewhere else.

  Before he had time to choose an answer, Wes found himself standing before Colleen Cabot’s quarters. He knew she was inside, and pressed the chime rather than stepping through the bulkhead.

  “Who is it?” came her voice.

  He looked around to make sure he was alone in the corridor. “It’s Wesley,” he answered.

  At once, the door opened. Colleen rushed to greet him, brushing her glowing blond hair out of her face and tugging on her tight-fitting blue tunic. He decided that she must have been napping, since she had been up all night arranging the return of Captain Picard. She smiled at him girlishly, then seemed to recover long enough to pull him into the room and close the door.

  “You’re here? On this ship?” she asked excitedly. “I should have known. Who else would have a…whatever you are.”

  “I’m not stationed on this ship,” he answered, “although I once was. Do you know that we’ve left Earth?”

  “Really?” Cabot rushed to her small porthole and gazed at a disc of blackness with vague glints of light. “Yes, we’ve left. Nobody mentioned this to me. Where are we going?”

  “Just making a survey of the asteroid belt near Jupiter.”

  As Colleen gazed out into space, she bounced on the balls of her feet. Then she turned and looked sheepishly at him. “Excuse me for being excited, but I’ve just taken off on the Enterprise.”

  He took a step closer to her.

  Colleen gazed at him with big blue eyes. “Is this the way you really look?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he answered hoarsely.

  Colleen moved in close, and he leaned down for an exploratory kiss. She responded passionately. The
y were very much alike—two gifted people giving up everything for a monastic existence that focused solely on work, study, and advancement. Alone together in the strange stateroom, the young man and young woman sought out human contact and love.

  Hours later, Wesley Crusher slipped out of her warm bed and pulled on his gray jumpsuit. “I’ve got to go.”

  Colleen stirred and rubbed her eyes. “You’ll be back?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he answered with a smile. “My quarters are only two doors down.”

  Cabot sat up. “I thought you said you weren’t stationed on the Enterprise?”

  “Not as you see me,” he answered. “You also know me as Ensign Brewster. I’d appreciate it if you kept my secret.”

  She frowned, puzzled. “But you don’t look anything like Ensign Brewster.” Her frown deepened. “Or do you? I don’t remember what he looks like.”

  “That’s the point.” He bent down and kissed Colleen, and she nearly succeeded in pulling him back into bed. Reluctantly, he drew away from her urgent kisses.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.

  “I’ll probably be busy,” said the woman, stretching luxuriantly in her bed. “In an attempt to keep me happy, Counselor Troi is taking me to a spa, a tour of the ship, lunch, holodeck racquetball, and whatever else you have. If they only knew that I’ve got eveything I need to be happy right here.” Her hand grazed his thigh, and he laughed.

  “Yes, if they knew about us, they would certainly be surprised,” agreed the Traveler. “Let’s keep it our secret a while longer, okay?”

  “How much longer?” she asked with a pout. “I’m happy for the first time since…I can remember. I feel great I’ve returned Captain Picard to his ship, I’m away from those admirals, and I have you.”

  She gave him a come-hither look and smiled at his obvious discomfort. “How can you not love a guy who can travel through space in a wink, and doesn’t think there’s anything special about him?”

  “You’ll see, when you get to know me better,” answered Wesley. “I’ll be back soon. If I’m Brewster, don’t let on.”

  “Take care, Wesley.”

  He focused himself back to Rashanar, only this time aboard the new Ontailian flagship, the Yoxced, which had replaced the fallen Vuxhal. In a reception room intended to entertain humanoids, a stern Tellarite and a proud Vulcan stood face-to-face with a teeming collection of Ontailians, who twisted and squirmed around their trellises like large hairy worms. Every few seconds, a slothlike individual descended upon the smoothly sculpted computer terminal, where it looked like a furry octopus squirming around the large levers and knobs.

  The Traveler lurked in the background with the Starfleet security personnel, watching the Ontailians’ frantic activity. He forced his persona into near obscurity in order to observe this historic event. Although the Ontailians would eventually produce an answer, they were going to take plenty of time to quarrel among themselves.

  In due time, a gray-haired Ontailian with a span of three meters to his hairy tentacles descended from the rafters and plucked a parchment from their computer’s printing mechanism. As the senior diplomat, the Vulcan took the document and read it first. His face showed a glimpse of disappointment, as he handed it to his colleague. When the Tellarite was done reading, the two of them shook their heads in consternation.

  “This decision is most regrettable,” said Ambassador Telek of Vulcan. “You blame the humans for essentially being human. You have not been in the Federation long enough to know what you are giving up, but I can tell you it’s a great deal. The Federation was here for you during the Dominion War; now you deny us access to our hallowed dead from that conflict. Are you sure this is what you want to tell the Federation?”

  The chittering and squeaking grew very loud. Evol, the Tellarite ambassador balled his hands into fists as if he would bash a few of the recalcitrant Ontailians. “You are unworthy allies” he cursed them.

  Amid heckling and squawking from their hosts, the diplomatic delegation from the Federation took their leave and beamed out of the Yoxced and back to the runabout Ohio. The Traveler left with them, but he didn’t go to the runabout. Instead he slid through space and dimension, feeling the power of his fellow Travelers returning to guide him. Yes, they know I’ve broken rules, but they still know how important this is.

  There was no doubt now—the Enterprise would have to return to Rashanar.

  Chapter Five

  IN THE CAPTAIN’S READY ROOM, Will Riker gritted his teeth as he listened to the grim assessment from Admiral Nechayev. The first officer felt somewhat awkward sitting at the captain’s desk and taking the admiral’s orders from his viewscreen, but there was some consolation from the fact that Captain Picard stood by his fish tank, listening intently.

  “And so,” concluded Nechayev, “we’re left with rotten choices. We can declare war against the Ontailians, but that will alienate other nonhumanoid races and make it harder to recover bodies and manage the Rashanar. We can do nothing, which leaves us in the dark and allows the possibility of a lot of advanced technology falling into the wrong hands. Or we can operate on the sly, as the looters are doing.”

  The admiral narrowed her eyes and said, “We need to find out how long the Rashanar Battle Site will last before the gravity sink and other elements destroy it. We need to know what the Ontailians are doing to make it safer. I don’t mind backing off, if the Ontailians can make improvements and get control of the situation. If they aren’t doing the job, we can’t let the site deteriorate. We need to find out exactly what the Enterprise encountered there.”

  “We want to return, but are you saying we’ll be alone?” said Riker carefully.

  “Yes. If you go back, it has to be a volunteer crew and unofficial. There will be no help or backup. Starfleet will deny that you’re there. Officially, the Enterprise is on light duty while testing repairs, not on a mission to Rashanar. No matter what you find out, no matter if you perish or return victorious, no one will ever know about this. There will be no honors or memorial services. Those are the conditions.”

  “You make it sound awfully inviting.” Riker glanced at Captain Picard, who nodded in agreement. “All right. Count us in. What do you think we’ll find?”

  “Our diplomats report that the Ontailians have the battle zone surrounded and aren’t letting anyone in or out,” answered Nechayev. “But the Ontailians don’t seem to be operating inside the graveyard anymore. We’re sure the looters are still getting in, which is why you should think about disguising some of your shuttlecraft as salvagers. The Enterprise could hide in there, too, if you played dead among the wrecks.”

  “And if they catch us?” asked Riker.

  Nechayev gave him a smirk. “You’re operating alone to seek revenge. That’s not far off, is it?”

  “No,” admitted Riker. “What about our passengers?”

  “I know Ensign Brewster and Counselor Cabot are there, and I think both will agree to go with you. I have faith in the Enterprise to find some answers, especially when you can make your own rules. There are small salvage ships around the asteroid belt. I’ll see if I can assign one or two to you, so don’t leave right away. I’ll also send you all the information we have on the Ontailians, and you might find some clues in there. Good luck, Captain. Nechayev out.”

  The screen on the captain’s desk went blank, and Riker leaned back in his chair. “Are we going to get revenge?” he asked Picard. “Because I don’t want to dance around this thing…not if it’s as lethal as we think.”

  “If we find the mimic ship, we’ll deal with it,” vowed the captain, his lips becoming a thin, straight line.

  “And this is sickbay,” said Deanna Troi, conducting her visitor into Beverly Crusher’s domain. Colleen Cabot strolled into the spacious and mostly empty suite of examination rooms, surgeries, and laboratories. They could see Dr. Crusher in her back office, going over her work. An orderly was checking supplies in the infirmary.

/>   “With most of the crew gone, it’s fairly quiet here now,” said Troi just as her combadge beeped. “Excuse me, please.”

  “Go ahead,” said Cabot with a wave of her hand.

  “Troi here.”

  “Deanna,” came Will’s familiar voice, “is Counselor Cabot with you?”

  “Yes, she is,” answered Troi, sensing his anxiety. “We’re just taking a tour of the ship. What is it, Will?”

  “We’re going to leave the asteroid belt and return to Rashanar. It will be dangerous, and Counselor Cabot has to be given the opportunity to leave.”

  “Captain Picard, too?” asked Troi with concern.

  Cabot was standing only a few steps away, and she gave her colleague a smile. “I overheard. It’s okay, Deanna, I’m with you all the way. And Picard goes with me.”

  “She’s on for the new mission,” reported Troi.

  “Good. We’re having a staff meeting in an hour in the observation lounge. Both of you should be there. Riker out.”

  Cabot pointed toward Crusher’s private office and asked, “Can we just say hello to the good doctor? I feel like I ought to make an effort to mend fences.”

  “I’m sure Dr. Crusher doesn’t hold anything against you,” said Deanna.

  Colleen looked doubtful. “I’ll just say hello.”

  Troi hovered nearby as their guest ducked her head in and said, “Good afternoon, Doctor. Beautiful sickbay you have here. Makes me almost wish I were a medical doctor.”

  Crusher looked up and gave the visitor a cordial smile. “Thank you, Counselor. Are you having a good tour of the ship?”

  “Why, yes! The Enterprise is like a floating city, only with better services.” Suddenly Cabot’s eyes lit up and her mouth dropped open. She was drawn into Beverly’s office as if pulled by an invisible force. Her eyes and her hand went straight toward an old-fashioned photograph on the doctor’s bookshelf.