Star Trek
Page 12
Riker smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And always look them in the eye.” Picard gestured at the air. “Anything past that… Trust your instincts. That’ll see you through.” The sun vanished behind a cloud, and with it went the warmth that had first touched him on seeing Riker’s face.
He was struck by a bleak sense of the distance between the two of them. Not just in terms of the literal light-years, but of the chasm between one starship captain facing a stirring encounter and one old man standing amid rows of ripening grapes.
“Jean-Luc?” Riker saw the shift in his expression. “Are you all right?”
Picard felt the need to confess something to his friend. “Do you remember Anij?”
Riker nodded. “One of the Ba’ku, yes. I recall you were rather taken with her…”
A few years before Picard’s promotion to flag rank, he and Riker and the Enterprise crew had visited the Ba’ku’s planet on a personal mission that had revealed a conspiracy involving Son’a renegades and a rogue Starfleet admiral. While on the planet, Picard had experienced a profound moment of clarity that even now resonated clearly in his thoughts.
“Anij wrote to me,” he went on, “an actual letter, ink on paper. She learned of my resignation from Starfleet and extended me an offer to return to their colony in the Briar Patch. To visit… or perhaps, to stay.”
Riker’s holographic form studied him carefully. “Tell me you didn’t refuse. The Ba’ku don’t just allow anyone on their planet. And if you went there—”
“Yes, the regenerative metaphasic radiation in the atmosphere would make me younger than you in a few years.” Picard shook his head. “Of course I was tempted, who wouldn’t be? But I couldn’t accept. I couldn’t leave this behind.” He waved in the direction of the chateau. “I have responsibilities.”
“That’s not it,” said Riker, cutting away the falsehood. “You don’t owe anyone anything. You’ve done the best that anyone could for the Federation, more than that, even. It’s been over a year now since you…” He hesitated, unwilling to say the word resigned “No one would blame you if you wanted to light out for a distant world, and find a new life.”
Despite the distance, Picard’s old friend and former crewmate saw right through him. Riker took the thread of the other man’s denial and brought it into the light.
“I have to be here, Will,” he said, at length. “If for no other reason, to remind everyone in the Palais de la Concorde of the choice they made.” Picard jutted his chin toward the west, in the direction of Paris and the seat of the Federation’s government. “I want them to know I am here, a few kilometers away… like the ghost at the feast.”
The words tasted ashen in his mouth. Hearing himself speak, he sounded petty and frustrated. The emotions from that fateful day in Admiral Bordson’s office when he resigned his commission were still close to the surface. The wound remained raw and unhealed.
Riker took a moment before he spoke. “Don’t stay there just to spite them. Don’t let yourself exist just for that, it’s not enough of a reason. At the very least, play with your puppy, go write your books. But don’t let resentment become your purpose, sir. It’s a waste.”
“Always finding the alternatives,” he said, with a rueful smile. “My friend, you are still looking out for me.”
“It’s what I do.”
It felt like there was no more to be said, so Picard beckoned the holo-pod down to him. “Well… take care out there. And who knows, if you get tired of starship life and decide to put down roots, I can offer you some advice about retirement.”
“Retire?” Riker chuckled. “If I’ve learned one thing over the past decade, it’s that whether you’re on a starship bridge or not, once you’re in this life, you never leave it.”
Picard laughed, and it was sincere. “What damned fool taught you that?”
Riker nodded his farewell, and the image of him faded into the sunshine.
SEVEN
Shelsa put his hands on his hips and drew himself up to his full height. “I am not going in there,” he stated firmly.
The boy from Deneva was the oldest of the group and the tallest, so he liked to think that made him the one in charge. His gaze passed over the others, before settling on Thad, where the other child was crouching in the orange-red grass. They were close to the edge of the environment dome here. A few meters away, an oval tube protruded from the surface of the ground, half-hidden by the plants.
Thad felt compelled to reply. “That’s okay, if you’re scared.”
“I am not!” Shelsa bellowed, predictably loud. “I’m not scared of anything!” He plucked at his jacket. “I don’t want to get dirty in the mud like you do, that’s all. It’s icky!” He said the last word as if it was the absolute worst thing in the world.
“And we shouldn’t.” Hanee’s hands knitted together. “We’re already too far away. We’ll get into trouble.”
“Again,” added T’Pir, arching her eyebrow. The short-haired Vulcan girl had the exact same manner as Doctor Talov, so much so that Thad couldn’t believe they weren’t related. “I have no desire to share once more in the penalties for your recklessness, Thaddeus.”
“You said you liked exploring,” Thad countered. “I am curious, you said that.” He could feel the mood of the other kids shifting toward Shelsa’s point of view. Thad had been able to convince them to come along on his latest adventure, and wander out into the wilds of the Ochre Dome, but the farther they got from the temporary encampment, the more tenuous his arguments became.
Ra’ag made the sort of barking-yelp noise that was his people’s way of agreeing. “I’m all for it,” he insisted, and Thad smiled. He could always count on the Antican boy to pick the more adventurous of any two options.
Min, who shifted nervously from foot to foot, wasn’t the type to speak up unless he really had to, and Thad knew he could count on the other human child to follow along with the majority. “Min, you’re with us, right?”
“Uh…” Min hedged, staring at the grass. “I don’t know, Thad. Tee’s got a point.” He indicated the Vulcan girl.
Shelsa saw his opportunity and took it. “Remember when you said it was okay for us to play in the holodeck and it turned out you were making it up?” He sneered at him. “I was grounded and I had to miss dessert for a week because of you!” The boy jabbed an accusing finger in Thad’s direction.
It was time to play his ace card, Thad decided. “My dad is the captain,” he began, “and if he—”
But Shelsa and Hanee were both pulling exasperated faces before he could even finish the sentence.
“You always say that,” snorted the young El-Aurian girl, “but it doesn’t matter. Just because Captain Riker is in charge on the Titan, it doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want!”
Thad colored. He knew that truth all too well. “Okay, no…” He tried to backpedal. “What I meant was—”
“And we still get in trouble, even if you do not,” T’Pir said levelly. “Your parentage has no bearing on that fact.”
“Anyway, this isn’t even your dad’s starship!” added Shelsa. “It belongs to the Jazari, and they’re not even in the Federation!”
Thad decided to make a last, desperate bid to keep the others interested. “Don’t you want to know what is down there?” He pointed at the tube’s mouth. “Don’t you want to go…?” He tried to remember the words written on the great big starscape mural on the wall of their schoolroom. “Where no one has gone before?”
“Thad thinks he’s in Starfleet,” Shelsa said to the others, his words dripping with sarcasm. “But he’s too small. And too stupid.”
“Je suis plus intelligent que vous!” Thad snapped back at him in French, knowing that the other boy couldn’t understand him. But his display of linguistic skill didn’t do anything to penetrate Shelsa’s air of contempt.
“Something is coming!” cried Ra’ag, aiming a paw at the trees a few hundred meters distant.
All of the children stood and watched as the thing flew straight into the tube, an iris hatch snapping open, then closed behind it.
“A monitor drone of some kind,” said T’Pir, with a sniff. “It must belong to the Jazari. We should not interfere with its operation.”
Thad rounded on her. “I think that tube leads somewhere. We saw a lot of other domes when we were coming in on the shuttle, didn’t we?” He got some nods of agreement and went on. “Well, I want to follow the tube and see what’s in the next ecodome!”
“Why?” Shelsa went back to his hands-on-hips pose again, and glared at Thad. “Who cares what’s in the other domes?”
Thad didn’t actually have a good answer for that, beyond his raw curiosity. “I do?” He swallowed hard. “We could find some Jazari. Find out all about them. No one knows anything about them, we could be the first!”
“I don’t even want to be here,” Shelsa went on. “I want to be back on the Titan. In my room, with all my stuff.” With each sentence, the other children nodded along with him, and even Ra’ag joined in. “We’re stuck down here because your mom and dad messed up the ship.” He prodded Thad hard in the chest, with enough force to make him stagger back a step. “So we don’t have to do what you say.”
Thad’s jaw stiffened and he stood as tall as he could. The last thing he was going to do was let Shelsa insult not only Starfleet, but his parents into the bargain. “Okay. Fine. Go away, then, if you’re so afraid. I’m not.” The low hum was sounding again, and as it grew louder, he marched over to the tube. “You keep your stupid jacket all clean and neat, and I will boldly go on my own!”
Ra’ag reached out to him as he passed. “Thad, you shouldn’t. It could be dangerous.”
With a click of metal on metal, the hatch opened to let another drone out into the dome. Thad shook off his friend’s grip and launched himself at the tube.
“See you later!” he yelled, and slid headfirst into the yawning metallic tunnel.
The last sound he heard from the other children was Hanee Phosia calling out his name before the hatch snapped closed.
Inside, the tube was frictionless and smooth, and the boy sped away into the darkness, already regretting his impulsive decision.
* * *
From the ports of the Titan’s briefing room, the Jazari generation ship was a vast cylinder of steel-gray metal and black solar arrays, pushing on through the darkness at high impulse speed.
Riker found the shadow of his ship visible on the hull of the bigger craft, the outline cast by the diminishing light of the Jazari star. A second, avian silhouette drifted across the steel, thrown from the Othrys, but the Romulan ship wasn’t visible from this angle.
The captain felt a prickle of tension over his skin. Seeing the shadow of the Romulans but not their reality was a blunt metaphor for almost every dealing Riker had ever had with their kind. Could he make today something different? He wanted to believe it was possible, but there were other shadows at play, forces that a single starship commander was too small to influence.
The door hissed open and he turned as Commander Medaka entered, with Christine Vale a step behind. “Here we are, sir,” said the XO, and she indicated a vacant chair near the head of the table.
Medaka thanked her but made no move to sit. “Will you be joining us, Commander?”
“No, sir. I’m afraid I have other duties to attend to.” Vale gave Riker a look that had a whole different answer in it, and she backed out, leaving the two men alone.
“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” said Riker. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure you would.”
Medaka glanced around the room. “It would have been rude not to.” The other man came closer and offered his hand. “I appreciate the offer, Captain Riker.”
Riker paused. “I wasn’t aware that Romulans shook hands as a greeting.”
“We don’t, as a matter of course,” said Medaka. “It is too easy a way to exchange a contact poison or nanoweapon. But I have studied human customs, and I’m willing to make an exception.” The commander’s tone was deceptively light.
Riker accepted the gesture and the two of them took a moment to size each other up. Jean-Luc Picard’s counsel to always look a Romulan in the eye rang through Riker’s thoughts in that moment before they disengaged. “Would you care for some tea?”
“Thank you.” Medaka took a seat—a different one from the chair Vale had indicated, Riker noted.
The captain settled down across from him, pouring out the steaming tisane. Medaka waited for Riker to take a sip before drinking some of his own.
“This is my first time on board a Federation starship,” said the Romulan. “I must say, the differences are fascinating.”
“Starfleet rarely has the opportunity to host officers from nonallied forces,” noted Riker. “I imagine very few Romulans have had the chance to see our ships from the inside.”
Medaka’s lips quirked up in a faint smile. “Oh, you would be surprised, Captain. It’s more than you think. Certainly more than you know about.”
Riker didn’t allow the comment to divert him. “I’ll be sure to pass that on to Starfleet Intelligence.”
“My lineage is heavy with officers,” said the Romulan. “My ancestors first served on ships during the Great Stellar Progression, more than two hundred of your Terran years ago. And the Medaka name has been intertwined with the Romulan fleet ever since.”
Riker tallied the numbers in his head. The so-called Stellar Progression Medaka mentioned was his people’s name for the invasion in the twenty-second century that led to what was known by the Federation as the Earth-Romulan War.
“I had family in the United Earth Starfleet back then,” Riker said carefully, uncertain of where Medaka’s line of conversation was leading. “On the Patton and Station K-3.”
“You and I have this meeting over a pleasant cup of tea, but our forefathers might have surveyed one another down the barrels of their weapons.” Medaka took another sip from his cup. “We should toast progress, don’t you agree?”
“We were enemies then, but we don’t have to be that now,” said Riker.
“A worthy thought.” The Romulan was silent for a moment. “Do you know, Captain, you have quite an extensive file in our records. The Riker name is one of note for our intelligence gatherers.”
“Should I be flattered?”
Medaka smiled. “So many important encounters, especially during your service aboard the Enterprise and its successor ship. Confrontations with my people in the Neutral Zone, at Galorndon Core, Devolin, Beta Stromgren…”
“And yet you’re still a mystery to me,” admitted Riker. “And I suspect, that’s how you like it.”
“You see, you do understand us!” The commander chuckled. “Captain. What do you hope to achieve from this meeting?”
Once more, Riker recalled Picard’s advice about honesty and directness. “I want to know what you’re really doing out here, Commander.”
Medaka opened his hands. “The same as you. Helping the Jazari.”
“Out of the kindness of your hearts?”
For some reason, that statement drew a hearty laugh from the Romulan officer. “Yes! Something like that!” He studied the Jazari leviathan. “What would you say if I told you that I have no ulterior motive?”
Riker decided to press on down the path of complete frankness. “With respect, I would suspect you are not being entirely truthful with me.”
“And you would be right.” Medaka gave a solemn nod. “I am using this opportunity to make a close observation of your starship and the Jazari, a species whom we know very little about.” He looked back at Riker. “But you know that I am doing that. You should reward your tactical officers fo
r their diligence, they have been very good at blocking our sensor sweeps.”
Riker said nothing, but he made a mental note to tell Vale and Keru to double up their efforts to keep the Romulans from running deep scans of the Titan.
“But I would rather be elsewhere,” continued Medaka. “This situation is taking time away from our primary mission to find habitable worlds for our population. Some of my officers have already made their displeasure over this diversion very clear to me.”
“So why don’t you leave?”
“Our warp engines still require some repairs,” he replied. “But even if that were not so, if we did depart, I would be allowing your ship to pass close to the Neutral Zone border unmonitored. But more than that, I would be allowing sentients to go in harm’s way, through the plasma storm zone ahead.” He indicated the Jazari vessel. “And that is something I cannot, in good conscience, let happen.” Medaka sipped the tea again and his enigmatic smile returned. “Does it surprise you to hear a Romulan say that? You in the Federation think of us as a ruthless society, yes?”
Riker gave a slow nod. “More often than not, that’s been my experience.”
Medaka frowned, his dark brow furrowing deeply. “Just as the mask you show us is not who you are, so the mask we show you is not all who we are.”
The note of genuine regret in the commander’s voice gave Riker something to reach for. “There’s a lot of us who hoped your people and mine could move past such a thing. Once, the Federation and the Klingon Empire were intractable enemies, but the Praxis crisis planted the seed of an alliance that grew into something strong. The collaboration between the Romulan fleet and Starfleet during the Dominion War could have done the same for us. But now that ground seems barren. For men like us on the front lines, at the sharp end, we’re left to deal with the consequences of that failure.”