Star Trek - Gateways 7 - WHAT LAY BEYOND

by Various

  "How far to the City?"

  Chanik took his first steps on the trail, a small backpack filled with water, fruit, and whatever personal belongings he had tucked in. His smile was bright, despite the dingy teeth, and he pointed up the trail and declared, "We could see it just after midday."

  "Excellent, then let's begin," Picard said.

  But the boy was already walking briskly ahead of him; the journey was under way. With a smile, Picard picked up his pace and followed along.

  The trail continued to skirt the forest, but within two hours, it had thinned and ended, opening up to wide fields that seemed full of grains, growing tall in the sun. The area seemed lush and golden, thanks to the water nearby. He tried to spot animals grazing but saw little beyond native birds that were too high up to study.

  Chanik was just as comfortable chatting as he was with silence, which only pleased the captain. Were the boy overly inquisitive, he knew, it would only make him defensive, spoiling the hike. They did chat briefly, talking about other places Chanik had been, comparing them with the forests they left behind. The boy seemed to prefer open space to the closed-in feel given by the trees, but he also admitted to minimal experience in forests, since there were not many where he grew up.

  As they walked, Picard began to note uniformity to the fields, row upon row of similar grains followed by sections with tidy rows of other plants. Farming principles seem to be fairly universal, he thought. From what he could judge, the society he had encountered had come a far way from the high-tech civilization it had once been, but they had learned to work with nature rather than let it overwhelm them. Had the Iconians abandoned this world two hundred millennia ago, and the Cities all fell to ruin, he estimated the number of centuries before nature thoroughly reclaimed the space. While the technology might have survived the passage of time, nature would find its way to reassert itself. The people might have had a difficult adjustment, but he doubted he would ever learn. He had seen no books yet, just simple people living a peaceful existence. The remains of the Iconian culture obviously had been the foundation for modem mythology, but that was only natural.

  "Someone is doing an excellent job maintaining these lands," Picard noted.

  Chanik looked out to see what the captain was talking about. He clearly hadn't made a point of observing the farmland and was looking at it appraisingly. "How can you tell?"

  "The farmers are rotating their crops in the field, keeping everything in neat rows," Picard said. He gestured and added, "The uniform height of the grains shows they must have been planted at roughly the same time, so they run a well-organized operation."

  The boy nodded, clearly never having considered I anything like farming. He was probably more a hunter I and gatherer, considering there were no parents to teach him. Picard smiled at the boy with regret crossing his features. Every boy deserved a parent to teach him I about the world, he knew. And for a moment, he considered his nephew, now dead, and all the opportunities that were not to be. Forcing the notion from his mind, Picard continued on.

  By the noon hour, Picard could see a man at work near the edge of the trail. He was wearing a one-piece outfit, dyed a deep blue, a floppy hat providing shade. The farmer was checking some of his crops, dark fingers weighing a stalk in his hand.

  "Fair weather," the man said as the duo approached.

  "Fair weather," Picard repeated, figuring it was a safe reply. "I have been admiring your fields. You do excellent work."

  The farmer looked directly at Picard, recognizing his somewhat different appearance. He said nothing for a bit and finally nodded in acknowledgment.

  "Been dry," he said.

  "I can still hear the river so water must be plentiful."

  "Maybe. Can only carry so much of it."

  "I see your point. Is it a problem?"

  "Heat's making the stalks short, will have to harvest them sooner than I'd like."

  "Has it been dry here long?"

  "Long enough," came the reply. "Not from around here, are you?"

  Chanik finally chirped up. "This Young God is Picard and I'm taking him to the City."

  At the words "Young God," the farmer once more stared at Picard. The words meant something to him and there was a moment of suspicion. He must have decided the captain wasn't a threat and just went back to looking at his grain.

  "Do you grow much else?"

  "Got my house by the water, grow me some berries, make a little wine."

  "I see. How do you make the wine?"

  The man looked at Picard once more, a look of surprise on his face. The expression read as if everyone knew how to make wine, why would a Young God be asking?

  "Soak the berries for a day or two, mash them in a ... you know, the usual way."

  Picard nodded but asked, "Hot or cold?"

  "The wine? Neither, serve it natural."

  "No, the soaking. Do you use hot water or cold?"

  "Just pull water from the river, fill up the basins and dump in the berries."

  "I see. I think you might find the wine more flavorful if you use hot water for the soaking. Do you add anything to the berries?"

  "Nope, just let 'em ferment."

  "How long before you serve it?"

  "From soakin' to servin', must be a few months."

  The farmer was looking less suspicious, caught up in the discussion of tradecraft.

  "What do they ferment in?"

  "Earthenware jars - keep 'em in a shed back of the house."

  "There's plenty of wood nearby - if you make barrels, I think you will find they age better. And I'd let them sit longer before serving, maybe up to a year." He wasn't sure how long they measured their time, but given the day-night cycle he'd witnessed, it wasn't too far from Earth norms.

  "That a fact?"

  Chanik stayed silent, watching in fascination as Picard continued to question the methods and suggested alternatives. The farmer didn't dispute the comments nor was he agreeing with them, just nodding occassionally.

  Picard reached into his bag and pulled out one of the yellow fruits, which Chanik had called a quint. "For variety, you might want to try adding some fruit juice. Something like this might be good, or mix some other fruits. I would, though, only add about two fistfuls of juice to a barrel as high as your knee."

  "Fruit in my wine? What for?"

  "Good as your berries are, wouldn't you want some wines that are sweeter or tarter throughout the day or year?"

  "Maybe. Never thought about it."

  "I grew up learning the craft," Picard said, his mind's eye picturing the Picard family vineyards and the years he spent helping his father.

  "That a fact."

  "That it is," Picard replied. "I'd really like to stay and show you, but Chanik is right: We're going to the City and I am pressed for time."

  The farmer chuckled at the word "pressed" since it was a winemaking term. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Well, I wish you luck. Might try some of your ideas."

  "I think you'll find yourself the envy of the area," Picard said with good humor.

  "Going with just the quints?"

  Picard nodded, not really giving his food supplies much thought.

  "My house is just a little bit up the road; let me give you a few other things. Way to thank you for the advice."

  "That would be most gracious of you," Picard said.

  "Never hurts to thank a Young God," the farmer said, tossing the grain on the ground and starting to walk. "Might be some rain in it."

  Picard did not reply, inwardly sighing at the notion of his godhood.

  Some twenty minutes later, the captain and the boy had some dried meats, additional fruits, and a small skin full of the farmer's wine. The farmer hadn't said much else, and Picard did not see any telltale signs of a wife or children in the small three-room house. He recognized it as a rather solitary experience, making him feel more than a little sad for the man.

  Chanik was thrilled with the additional supplies and was chatteri
ng on about how this would make their stay in the City nicer. He admitted there might be some wild berries or fruits in the City, but mostly weeds covered the streets.

  "You seem to know so much," Chanik said. "I have been well taught, and in my years, I have experienced quite a bit," Picard replied with a smile. "Who taught you?"

  "My parents, teachers, things I learn by observing. You seem to know much for one so young." Chanik looked up in eager anticipation. "Do I?" Picard realized that much of what he learned was through life experience. He doubted that anyone spent that much time showing Chanik how to accomplish much. That spoke of a certain intelligence, which would benefit the boy over the years ahead. Still, Chanik had to survive to grow and for that he needed something more than a nomad's life. Even one life can alter a society's direction, Picard knew, but he had to skirt the Prime Directive since he required Chanik's experience with the City.

  The captain himself didn't mind the delay too much but was now trying to make up for time. After another or so, Chanik excitedly pointed out the first glimpse of the City's silhouette. Sure enough, spires and skyscraping buildings were topping the horizon. The captain estimated the City to be perhaps half a kilometer in width and another hour or two away. He withdrew the tricorder and scanned ahead, receiving no sign of active power sources. His estimates seemed to be right on the mark so there'd be several hours for him to search the City before dark.

  He frowned, though, when his device also showed two figures some meters ahead, hiding behind some of the taller bushes. Even here, he mused, highwaymen existed to prey on the innocent.

  "My sister would be considered quite the catch, Ambassador."

  "No doubt," Worf replied. He had allowed Captain Grekor to come to the newly dubbed lead Petraw ship to conduct further studies of their navigational systems. Any race that traveled farther and farther away from home had to have sophisticated tools at its disposal.

  On the other hand, it also invited more discussions from the overweight, overbearing warrior, seeking some way to restore glory to the fallen House of Krad. Worf was interested in many things but finding a replacement mate for his late wife Jadzia Dax was at the bottom of such a list. He suffered the comments in silence, totally ignoring the beseeching looks Grekor shot his way.

  "You will find their star charts of the Beta Quadrant to be very thorough," Worf offered, hoping it would be a sufficient distraction.

  "Already copy them to the Enterprise, did you? Share them with the others?"

  "We felt it fair to share our findings with the entire allied fleet," the ambassador said stiffly.

  "Feb. More Ferengi to worry about." "You will find, Captain, that the Ferengi have done a remarkable job opening up previously untouchable regions. They are a resource to use as much as they are an irritant."

  "Spoken like a true ambassador." In truth it was spoken by someone who had hoped that praising the Ferengi would make him seem a less viable mate for the captain's sister, but Worf simply grunted in reply.

  Grekor attached his recording device to the navigational computers and instructed the frightened Petraw to begin downloading. It seemed the very presence of Klingons was more troubling to the aliens than that of the humans or Romulans. Worf found it an odd fact, but accepted it.

  He walked away from the self-satisfied captain and looked at the largest viewscreen. He saw several Petraw ships nearby, and recognized the Deltan and Carreon ships farther away. They hung in space without moving, stars not even twinkling much in the background. Almost like a still photograph, he mused. Bright light suddenly filled the screen, enough to make Worf cover his eyes, and he heard chattering from the Petraw surrounding the bridge.

  "Which one?" demanded the Klingon captain. A moment later, the screen cleared, and Worf, who had been studying the image, recognized that it was a Deltan ship that had exploded.

  Grimly, he began speculating as to the culprit.

  Picard did not say anything to Chanik as they approached the ambush. He listened for some sound as a giveaway, hoping he would not need to use the phaser. It was two against one, odds he thought he could manage.

  Finally, the men calmly stepped from behind the bushes and blocked the path. They were thin of body and hair, wide-eyed. The taller of the two held a thick branch as a club.

  "We'll lighten your load, thank you very much."

  "I can share if you're hungry," Picard offered, trying to appear unthreatening.

  "What are you?"

  "He's a Young God!" Chanik declared.

  "Not very likely," the tall one said. "No such thing as Gods."

  "He's right here! How can you say that?"

  "Quiet, Chanik. I can share the food, even the water, but you will not leave me with nothing."

  The two stepped forward, club raised. "I think we will."

  "Oh yes, we will."

  They took another step forward, clearly ready to cause harm in exchange for the food. Picard had tensed himself, and had considered his surroundings. He also recognized his advantage given the planet's lighter gravity. He quickly dropped his satchel, just as the tall man began to swing the branch. Picard crouched briefly, then jumped into the air, cleanly rising above the moving branch.

  Landing, he ran forward, outstretched arms before him, battering the two men. The one with the branch was caught off-balance because of the swing's momentum. The other spun to his side, hands balling into fists.

  Picard stepped to his left, and with his boot cracked the branch into uselessness. His raised his right arm, blocking a swing from the other one. Just as quickly, he let go with two quick punches to the man's midsection, knocking him backward. The tall one righted himself rushed Picard, who merely sidestepped, letting the move past him. As the attacker got close, Picard grabbed an arm and swung him about, directly into the other man. Both tumbled to the ground and Picard loomed over them.

  "I think we're done, don't you agree?"

  They looked at him with newfound respect... and fear.

  "I thought we could settle this nicely, with you sharing in my food. But clearly, you need a lesson."

  "Don't kill us!" the shorter one yelled.

  "Kill you? Not at all. Teach you, yes. An hour or so back this way, you will find a farm. The man who tends its works by himself and could benefit from help. In exchange for work, he might feed you, and you will benefit from learning how to work for yourself."

  The men exchanged surprised glances. "I offer you no guarantees," Picard said, dusting himself off. He spotted Chanik standing nearby, a mix of emotions crossing his face. The boy seemed more surprised than anything.

  "Thank you, Young God!" they both said, stepping over each other's words. They got up, and walking clearly around Picard, began on the path as recommended.

  Once they were out of sight, Picard took a drink of water and tossed the skin to the boy. He once more began his journey.

  "Why didn't you kill them?" "They were hungry, Chanik. Not evil. Even a world as lush as this seems to be filled with those less fortunate. They also seemed to need a trade, so I suggested one. I think this could work out well for one and all."

  "What trade should I perform?"

  Picard thought about it a moment and looked down at the eager boy. "I don't assign professions, Chanik. You will find your own path and I trust you will do it with integrity."

  "Spoken like a true God!" Chanik exclaimed.

  Picard winced, sighed, and continued walking toward the City.

  Chapter 4

  The red alert klaxon woke Riker out of a not-very-sound sleep. He had managed very little uninterrupted rest since he and the Enterprise were first dispatched to end the quarrel between them and the Carreon.

  Still, years of training led Riker to be fully awake as the klaxon sounded.

  "Bridge, report!"

  "Data here," the android replied. "One of the Deltan ships exploded."

  "What? How!"

  "Sensor readings are still coming in. It seems to be totally destroyed
with all hands."

  "Was it Captain Oliv's?"

  "No, sir."

  "Get him on the com. I'll be on the bridge in a minute."

  It was more like eight minutes later, but Riker was back in uniform, settling into the captain's chair. Data had wisely instructed a yeoman to have a cup of coffee ready for the acting captain. There was bustling activity around the large space but he noted the absence of his closest comrades. La Forge was still working to salvage the Mercury, Troi remained in command of the Marco Polo, and Picard was ... somewhere. That continued to trouble him with each passing hour.