As soon as the cargo-bay status lights indicated that Norinda’s transport had undocked, La Forge was at the communications console on the Calypso’s bridge. He made a halfhearted request for privacy, but Kirk leaned against the console and McCoy sat in the chair beside La Forge’s and neither he nor the doctor gave the engineer any indication they were ever going to move.
So, while Joseph happily went down to the galley to replicate meals for everyone, Kirk and McCoy listened as La Forge reported to Admiral Janeway, repeating everything Norinda had told Picard about the Tal Shiar’s plan to ignite a civil war at the Hour of Opposition.
La Forge did not mention that he was not alone, and neither Kirk nor McCoy made their presence known. Kirk wanted the admiral to feel free of her burden of bureaucratic deception, so she would speak the whole truth.
Kirk greatly appreciated Janeway’s decency as she began by expressing her genuine relief that Joseph was safe, and how she regretted ever allowing the child to be part of the mission, even though she had had no reason to suspect he would ever be in danger. And he was able to deduce from the rest of the conversation exactly what Picard’s third mission had been, and how with Norinda’s help in making contact with the Tal Shiar, the threat of civil war might yet be averted.
By the end of La Forge’s report, Kirk found himself agreeing with Starfleet’s intentions, but taking exception with their plans and tactics. As usual, he thought.
He especially found it galling that even in light of the breakthrough Picard was poised to make with the Tal Shiar, Admiral Janeway refused to order the Titan to Romulus. Somehow, an emergency conference called at a starbase that was little more than a glorified repeating station for subspace radio signals didn’t seem like reason enough to leave a single starship to cover the entire Neutral Zone. Not on what might be the eve of war.
But Kirk decided that Starfleet’s biggest blunder in this matter had been not telling him the truth from the beginning. Had he known the stakes involved, he would have had no objection to accepting the assignment. He certainly would have been willing to investigate Spock’s murder on Romulus as a cover for Picard’s attempts to stop a civil war.
But by not trusting him, by believing that everyone they dealt with had the same compromised standards as the leaders of Starfleet, it was Command that had made the situation worse than it needed to be. At least, that was the way Kirk saw it. Starfleet, it seemed, was no different for Picard today than it had been in his time.
His report over and his subsequent discussion with the admiral at an end, La Forge cut the channel, then leaned back in his chair. “So that’s everything.”
“Somehow, given Starfleet’s track record, I doubt it,” Kirk said. “But thank you for letting us listen in. I take it that was a breach of your orders.”
“Not at all. We have contingency orders and some of them cover the circumstances under which we were authorized to tell you everything. The way I interpret those orders, this was one of those circumstances.”
“Good,” Kirk said. “I’d hate to see the admiral make you walk the plank for insubordination.”
La Forge laughed. Kirk looked at him, waiting for an explanation. “Everyone on Captain Picard’s command staff has walked the plank at one time or another. He has this holodeck program that…well, it’s historical.”
Kirk held up his hands. “Say no more.”
The turbolift opened and Joseph slowly came out, carrying a precarious stack of trays and food containers. Kirk rushed to help him, but not so urgently that Joseph might think he had done anything wrong.
Together they spread out the trays, then reallocated the food packs, so everyone got a version of the same meal. Kirk noticed that Joseph’s tray had four chocolate-chip cookies. The Doctor’s influence hadn’t lasted too long.
They ate on the bridge, sitting on the steps and the upper level. And Joseph finally told them all the story of what had really happened when the “bad guys” came. How he was frightened and backed up against the wall in Picard’s cabin, and then how everything had shimmered with light and he was suddenly in a park and the Doctor was there, telling him he had to play a game where he must stand as still as he could for as long as he could, without making a sound. And if he could do that, then he’d get a big reward.
Kirk was grateful for the lack of trauma in Joseph’s account, knew he would have to thank the Doctor for thinking so quickly to save his child. Then he thought to ask Joseph what his reward had been.
Joseph leaned forward over his tray, and gestured emphatically with his spoon. “Dad,” he said conspiratorially, “he gave me all the ice cream I could eat. All.”
McCoy, La Forge, and Kirk laughed at that, so Joseph did, too. And as their laughter faded, a new sound rose on the bridge—a series of electronic chirps.
“That’s a hail,” La Forge said. He pushed his tray aside to return to the communications console.
“Don’t answer that,” Kirk said, tensing for trouble. “There’s not supposed to be anyone on board this ship.”
But La Forge was already at his console. “That’s a Starfleet code, sir. Set for this ship and this mission. We have our own code to respond with.”
Kirk relaxed, waved La Forge on. “Just stop calling me sir. It’s Jim.”
The next sound to come from the console was even more unexpected.
“Hello, Geordi—it’s Will.”
“Captain Riker…” La Forge answered. “Did you send that approach code?”
“Technically, Worf sent it. He’s in the copilot’s chair.”
“But I just spoke with Admiral Janeway. You’re supposed to stay on station at Latium Four.”
“Another technicality, Geordi. The admiral’s orders refer to the Titan, and the Titan is right where she’s supposed to be.”
Kirk smiled. There was hope for some in Starfleet.
Then another familiar voice joined the circuit. “We are approaching your aft cargo-bay airlock,” Worf brusquely announced. “Request permission to dock.”
Kirk was anxious to give it. Now that he had Joseph back, he could finally think of Spock. And the more people he had on his side in that fight for justice, the better.
23
JOLAN SEGMENT, STARDATE 57488.1
As the craggy black rock of Remus stretched to a horizon over which a bloated green Romulus peered like a baleful eye, Picard knew how close he was to success, and how close to disaster.
With two days remaining until the Hour of Opposition, there was still time to convince the Tal Shiar they had an alternative to war. But the key to Picard being able to offer them that alternative rested with Norinda, the being who flew this transport, the being he had just betrayed.
Picard knew it wouldn’t matter that the betrayal had been unwitting. On the bridge of the Calypso, he had been shocked that Kirk had so willingly given up his son to Norinda, to allow him to journey to Remus. But as they had made their way back to the cargo bay and the transport, Picard had reflected on what Joseph had said to his father, and before they had left the first corridor, Picard realized what Kirk must already have known.
Joseph wasn’t Joseph.
The singular child strapped into the passenger seat across from him in the bare, unfinished shell of the transport was the holographic doctor. Engaged in a flawless deception.
So far.
Because once this transport landed and Joseph was brought before the followers of the Jolara—which was surely what Norinda intended—as perfect as the Doctor’s illusion was to all physical senses, it would have to withstand the inspection of any telepaths among the Reman population.
And there would be telepaths, some no doubt as skilled and powerful as the first Shinzon’s Viceroy had been.
Even more worrisome, the Doctor might already have faced his first telepathic test and failed when Norinda had stared so closely at him on the bridge, and asked him what he would like her to be.
Clearly, she was opening herself to him, and had Joseph
been a real being, whatever idealized images he had in his mind of females important to him—memories of his mother, of playmates, or even of the dabo girls who apparently had made quite an impression on the boy—should have filtered out to Norinda, whose appearance would have altered in response to those images.
But Norinda hadn’t changed at all. Merely agreed that the “boy” did not know what he wanted her to be.
Picard could only hope that the shapeshifter’s calm acceptance of her inability to access Joseph’s thoughts indicated she had had similar negative results with other subjects. Ferengi were certainly resistant to almost all forms of telepathy. But as Deanna Troi had often said about her experiences with Data, it was one thing to attempt to probe a mind, and find resistance, and quite another to sense that there was no mind to probe.
Picard was relieved that the Doctor was not bubbling over with observations and insistent queries the way the real Joseph would be, if he were in this ship, on this adventure. The fewer the interactions between Norinda and the Doctor, the better for everyone.
What Norinda’s reaction to the revelation of his betrayal would be then, Picard couldn’t be sure. For a being who professed to be the bearer of peace and love, she seemed to dispense anger and impatience almost as often, and in what she had done to Jim by appearing as Teilani, cruelty as well.
To Picard, it almost seemed as if Norinda’s fundamental personality were as mutable as her body. But where it was becoming easy to predict how she might change her form in order to create a powerful sensual connection with her followers, Picard had yet to detect the pattern of her changes of mood. And it was a given in warfare that the most dangerous enemy was the one whose actions and reactions could not be predicted.
“Jean-Luc,” Norinda said from her pilot’s chair, “look ahead: Worker’s Segment Five, protectorate of the Warbird Atranar.”
The transport banked under Norinda’s guidance, revealing a collection of ribbed domes spread across a black plain. Twisted tendrils of exhaust billowed up from geothermal vents. Lights sparkled behind the domes’ few transparent panels.
A million slaves at least, Picard estimated. Poor wretches. And because their fates were linked to a Reman warbird, the Tal Shiar had marked them for death, along with the inhabitants of two other segments.
The transport returned to its original course, and once again Romulus lay directly ahead, three-quarters full, its seas and land masses clearly visible, as were several storm fronts and the intense, glowing red pinpoints of active volcanoes. The yearly close approach of Romulus and Remus, with the resulting tidal stresses, kept both worlds tectonically active. On Romulus, the results were magnificent seasonal firefalls. Whether there were similar features on Remus, Picard did not know.
Casting his eye on Romulus, he tested his memory by identifying continents and regions, and as he did so Picard began to notice that a haze was developing around the planet. He checked the ground below and saw that the haze was a band of light hugging the horizon.
The transport was approaching the terminator, passing from eternal night to eternal day.
Of course, Picard thought. He remembered the ceiling domes in the chambers of Norinda’s Jolan Segment. She and her followers lived on the dayside of Remus. That fact raised a question.
“Norinda,” Picard asked. “Is there a difference between those Remans who live on the dayside of your world, and those who live on the nightside?”
Norinda looked at Nran, and he turned in his copilot’s chair to answer Picard’s question.
“Almost no Remans live on the dayside. The geologists say the sunward side has been more…geologically active?” He looked to Norinda for confirmation he had his facts in order.
“Continue,” she said, and Nran beamed like a pupil eager for the teacher’s praise.
“More eruptions because of…”
“Tidal stress?” Picard suggested.
The Romulan nodded. “So to mine, we’d have to dig deeper. But on the nightside, not as deep. So that’s where the mines are and…that’s where most of the miners live.”
Picard mulled over Nran’s information. Given the two extremes of illumination on the planet, he’d wondered if there might be a second offshoot of the Romulans with eyes that could tolerate bright light. But if most of the Remans lived underground in darkness, then it followed that most of the Remans would be intolerant of light.
“So, how is it that you came to live on the dayside?” Picard asked.
“We chose to go there,” Nran said. “After Shinzon.”
“You’re allowed to do that?” Picard asked, truly puzzled. “Choose your own living arrangements? On Remus?”
Nran looked at Norinda again, and if she said something to him, Picard couldn’t see past the back of her chair.
“Since Shinzon,” Nran said, “things have been different on Remus.”
“Different in the sense that things are better?”
Nran was about to answer again, but Norinda reached out to touch his arm, the contact instantly making Nran lose his train of thought.
“Just different,” Norinda said. “Almost home.”
She touched a control and the viewport darkened. A moment later the swollen red star of the Romulan home system blazed against the viewport, and Picard thought it likely that without its protective tint, they all might have been temporarily blinded.
A chime sounded from the controls, and Picard felt the transport dip, and even through the darkened port, he could see that on this side of Remus, the black rock shone with a glaring brilliance.
He wondered how it came to pass that Norinda and her followers had been allowed to relocate to this side.
He wondered why they would want to.
But then he put those minor questions aside, and thought again of war and betrayal, and how he might be responsible for both.
Not for the first time, he remembered when he had been an explorer, and wondered if that life would ever be his again.
The next betrayal was Norinda’s.
The transport landed smoothly on a target pad, then floated on antigrav skids to an airlock carved into the side of a small mountain.
An armored door swung down, and the entire chamber, easily the size of the Enterprise’s own hangar deck, was re-pressurized in seconds.
Norinda opened the side hatch of the transport and was the first to leave. Nran followed. Picard helped Joseph out, treating the hologram exactly as he would the real child, not daring to pass a signal even by the slightest eye contact, having no way to tell what level of surveillance they might be subject to.
Then they stepped down from the transport’s hatch ladder to find three Reman guards waiting for them, eyes protected by dark visors, armed with drawn disruptors.
With the deadline of Opposition so close and unchangeable, Picard abandoned civil negotiation. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
Norinda seemed unperturbed. “For your protection. The Tal Shiar is everywhere, and now they know you’ve been trying to reach them. Some among them aren’t pleased by that, Jean-Luc. They think it means you’ve stumbled on their plans, and so they’d prefer to kill you rather than talk.”
“But I have to talk with them. I must!”
“And I do know that,” Norinda said. “And I will arrange it. But I am sure you’d prefer to speak with a member of the Tal Shiar who will listen to you, instead of shooting you on sight.”
Now Picard felt awkward for having jumped to a negative conclusion. Norinda had been following up on her promise, after all. Complications had arisen, but that was understandable. If it was troubling for him to think of an entente between the Tal Shiar and the Federation, it was reasonable to think that the Tal Shiar would be equally skeptical.
“Thank you,” Picard said, deciding a little civility was called for after all. “But with so little time remaining, you can understand my urgency.”
Norinda smiled, but did not use whatever power she had to make a connection, mi
nd to mind. “I do understand. And you will have your meeting.” She glanced at Joseph as she continued to address Picard. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me and my followers in convincing Kirk to let Joseph visit today. And I will show my appreciation in return.” Then she motioned to the guards. “Be patient, Jean-Luc. Not much longer.”
Norinda and Nran left through one personnel door. The three Remans directed Picard and Joseph to another. Picard was intrigued to see that the guards had to duck their heads to step through the door. This facility had not been built with Remans in mind, but for Romulans.
The corridors here were also much different from the first ones Picard had encountered when he and La Forge had escaped with the help of Norinda and her mysterious mercenary—the apparently self-propelled suit of combat armor.
Picard still hadn’t reconciled those events with Norinda’s protestations of love and peace. The armored unit, or hollow robot as Picard was coming to consider it, had killed the Reman doctor—hardly the act of a follower of the Jolara. But if it had been a robot, little more than a tool, then perhaps Norinda hadn’t understood the nature of its programming.
Or maybe Norinda is simply lying about everything, Picard thought, then sighed, dismissing his paranoia with a wry smile.
“What’s so funny, Uncle Jean-Luc?”
Picard gazed down at the holographic child, remembered a phrase from his own childhood. “When you’re older.”
Joseph grinned maliciously. “Awww, geee, you always say that!” Then he began to skip along the corridor to join the guards and pester them with childish questions.
Picard passed door after door, none of them hidden as they had been on the nightside, many of them marked in Romulan script, which Picard regretted he did not have the skills to read properly.
He did recognize some engineering terms, though, and one door was clearly marked for orbital operations—likely the flight control room. But other doors seemed to be identified simply by numbers and a single icon, as if in code.
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