Star Trek: The Next Generation - 119 - Armageddon's Arrow (15 page)

Good old Worf
, she mused
. I can always count on you
to keep me paranoid
.

“It is not my intention to disturb them, Doctor,” Mynlara said, her tone crisp and formal, “but I have a duty to ascertain the crew’s condition and determine whether they can answer questions regarding this vessel and their mission.”

Feeling her ire rising, Crusher replied, “If you’re talking about interrogation, I’m afraid I cannot allow anything which might harm their recovery.”

“Doctor,” Picard said, and she noted the unspoken warning in his eyes. “Let’s at least allow Fleet Legate Mynlara to ascertain for herself your patients’ conditions, so that she might prepare a report for her superiors.”

Mynlara nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Very well,” Crusher said after a moment. “Please follow me.” She started for the patient ward, but upon noticing Mynlara’s entourage following behind her, she raised a hand. “I’d ask your security detail to wait here. The Raqilan are restrained and sedated.”

After appearing to consider this for a moment, Mynlara turned and gestured toward a tall Golvonek male whose sleeves sported more decorative braiding than that of his companions save her own. “Savon, you and the others stay here. I will be fine.”

In turn, Picard said to Worf, “Number One, you also can remain here.”

Though he bristled at the order, the Klingon offered a single, terse nod. “Aye, sir.”

Satisfied, Crusher led Picard and the Golvonek officer into the adjoining room. Unlike the medical facility’s main compartment and indeed most other sections of the colossal vessel she had seen, the patient ward was not crammed to overflowing with computer stations and other equipment. A modest work area situated along the room’s forward bulkhead contained a computer console and a series of display monitors, which Commander La Forge and his team of engineers had determined were intended to communicate information from the equipment mounted at the head of each of the ward’s twelve patient beds. The setup was similar to what was available to her on the
Enterprise
, though there were obvious gaps in the technology. As for the beds, two of them were occupied, each hosting one of the Raqilan crew who now were restrained by portable medical force fields retrieved from the shuttlecraft by Lieutenant Konya and the security detail. The illumination in the room had been reduced, highlighting the displays from the different monitors and computer screens.

“As you can see,” Crusher said, indicating the beds with a wave of her hand, “the patients are resting as comfortably as we can make them. They appear to have suffered no ill effects from their hibernation.” She pointed to the Raqilan male sleeping in the closest of the beds. “However, we were forced to stun this one. He was the first to wake up, and I’m afraid we startled him.”

Mynlara asked, “How long were they in this hibernation?”

Pausing, Crusher looked to Picard, who shook his head with such subtlety that only she would have noticed it.

“We’re not certain,” she answered. While it was not technically a lie, it was close enough that it made her uncomfortable, even though she understood the need to withhold such information at this time. “We’re still learning how to navigate the onboard computer system, and although our translation protocols are good, even they have their limits.”

“Perhaps the Raqilan will be able to provide that information themselves,” Mynlara said. “Have you determined which of them is the leader?”

Crusher pointed to the closer of her patients, who still lay unmoving on the bed. “No, but we suspect he might be. He apparently was supposed to be revived ahead of the others.”

Stepping closer, her hands clasped behind her back, Mynlara said after a moment, “Are you able to wake him?”

Once more glancing to her husband, Crusher was not surprised to see him nod in approval at the request. “Yes,” she replied. “I can do that.” To Tamala Harstad, she said, “Doctor, please administer four cc’s of formazine.”

Seconds after Harstad pressed a hypospray to the sleeping Raqilan’s neck and injected the mild stimulant, his eyes began to flutter. When he opened them, he spent several seconds blinking as though to clear his vision. He moved his head until his gaze fixed on Crusher, at which point he flinched and only then seemed to realize that he was bound to the bed by the invisible force field.

“Please,” she said, holding up both hands to show that she meant no harm, “I won’t hurt you. We’re trying to help you.”

“Who are you?” the Raqilan asked, his voice low and weak, and he punctuated his question with an audible clearing of his throat. “What are you?”

“I’m a doctor,” Crusher retorted, “and right now I’m looking after you and your crew.” In a softer tone, she added, “My name is Doctor Crusher. We found your ship adrift in space and your crew in hibernation. From what we were able to tell, your ship suffered extensive damage, which likely interfered with your onboard computer’s ability to revive you. We were able to repair or minimize some of the damage, which is why we’re talking now. Do you feel all right? Are you in any pain?”

The Raqilan’s features remained fixed as he listened to her explanation, but after a moment he replied, “I am experiencing no pain.” He strained against the force field holding him to the bed, but remained held in place. “However, I do not appreciate being bound like a prisoner aboard my own vessel.”

Moving so that he stood beside her, Jean-Luc said, “That was my doing. I’m Captain Picard, commander of the ship that found you. I regret the restraints, but when you were first awakened, you attacked Doctor Crusher. You were sedated, for your protection as well as ours.”

“I have no memory of that.” The Raqilan blinked several more times, and his expression changed as though he was attempting to recall the incident. He appeared to give up the attempt after a moment and instead lifted his head to look around the room. When he saw the other Raqilan lying atop an adjacent bed, he said, “There were eight of us. Where are the others?”

“Unfortunately,” Jean-Luc replied, “six of your hibernation chambers malfunctioned at some point prior to our finding you. Those members of your crew did not survive.”

For the first time, the Raqilan offered an emotional response, his eyes closing and his lips pressing together as he absorbed this new information. Then, he drew a deep breath before returning his attention to the captain. “I will want to see them.”

“Of course,” said Jean-Luc.

“And I want us freed from these beds.”

Before the captain could reply, Mynlara stepped around Crusher so that the Raqilan could see her. “All reasonable requests will be accommodated in time, but first there are other matters to attend. I am Fleet Legate Mynlara of the Golvonek Protective Directorate. This vessel and its crew are now in my custody. In accordance with the protocols of engagement agreed upon by our respective governments, I hereby inform you that you are bound as prisoners of war and will be treated in accordance with the directives as outlined in the covenant. Do you understand your current status as I have described it to you?”

Crusher forced herself not to react as the Raqilan directed accusatory glares to Jean-Luc and then her before his gaze locked on Mynlara.

“I understand,” he said, his voice tight.

Apparently satisfied, the Golvonek officer asked, “What is your name?” When the Raqilan hesitated, she added, “Proper identification is mandated by the covenant, so that we can notify your government of your capture.”

With a questioning look at Jean-Luc, Crusher mouthed the words, “Now what?” but her husband said nothing. Did he not realize the danger of allowing this line of questioning to continue? She opened her mouth to say something but stopped when she felt his hand on hers. When she looked at him again, she saw him shaking his head.

“My name is Jodis,” said the Raqilan. “Spra Jodis Neradin, commander of the combat vessel
Poklori gil dara
, in service to the Raqilan Military Forces.” He paused, once more glaring at Crusher and Picard. “I see the Golvonek have acquired some new allies.”

Stepping closer, Jean-Luc replied, “You misunderstand. We have not allied ourselves with the Golvonek, or the Raqilan, for that matter. We are explorers, and we’ve only recently arrived in your star system. We’ve only just become aware of the conflict between your two peoples.”

Though Crusher thought he might be confused with this explanation, Jodis seemed to take it well enough. Then his expression darkened.

“There is much that does not make sense here. How long have we been asleep?”

Heeding her husband’s earlier warning, Crusher swallowed a nervous lump before answering, “We’re still trying to determine that.” With a glance to her husband, she added, “But our initial calculations indicate you’ve been in hibernation for far longer than intended.”

“Doctor,” said Jean-Luc, and she heard the caution in his voice.

“What was your mission?” Mynlara asked. When Jodis did not answer, she pressed with, “What is the purpose of this vessel? Where was it constructed? How did you get the materials to build it? It is astounding that you were able to keep it a secret from us. I must admit to being duly impressed. Our scientists and engineers will be most interested in examining its every detail.”

“This ship’s mission is the same as that of every vessel in service to my people,” Jodis said, his tone one of disdain. “Fight. Destroy Golvonek ships. Break your will to continue this war.”

Mynlara stepped toward the bed, pointing an accusatory finger at Jodis. “The Raqilan started this war. It is your people who could not accept the simple idea that there are others who exist in this galaxy and that not all of them subscribe to your beliefs. You were not content to live in peace and allow others to do the same. Instead, you brought death and destruction to both our worlds, and for what? Because we are different?”

Glowering at her, Jodis replied, “It no longer matters why the war began, or who is to blame. All our hands are stained with blood, and none of us are above contempt or fault. We and our children will bear the burden of what we have done, unless the entire obscenity can be erased. That is what we were sent here to do. Indeed, we were sent to make sure it never happens at all.” Unable to move his arms, he instead gestured with his head to indicate the room around him. “This ship was designed with a single purpose: make sure the war between our people never happens.”

“What sort of nonsense are you spouting?” Mynlara asked. “From where were you sent? How are you supposed to undo a hundred cycles of brutal warfare that has all but destroyed both our worlds?”

Jodis shook his head, eyeing her with unfettered scorn. “I do not blame you for your lack of understanding, for I too once harbored similar thoughts, but now your words have proven that what was once only theory is now in fact reality. It was decided long ago that the only way to stop this war is to prevent it from happening at all. That is why the blood and sweat of uncounted Raqilan were sacrificed over uncounted cycles to build this ship, and it is the mission I was sent to complete.” When Mynlara said nothing in response, Jodis sneered. “Of course you do not comprehend my meaning, but you will. I come from our future, Fleet Legate, where the war has raged for nearly two hundred cycles, and our inability to find peace has committed whatever generations might survive us to eventual extinction.”

“That’s enough,” Crusher said, putting up her hand so that Mynlara could not move any closer to Jodis. “There will be time for this later, but right now, I want my patients to rest.”

“They are not your patients,” Mynlara retorted, still scowling in response to the Raqilan’s comments. “They are my prisoners, even if this one has taken complete leave of his sanity.”

Ignoring her, Jodis instead turned his attention to Crusher. “I see it in your eyes. You know that I speak the truth, as do you, Captain Picard.” He looked once more to Mynlara. “It’s already too late. Enjoy your time as our captors,” he snapped, all but spitting the words. “I promise you that your hold on us will be fleeting.”

15

Standing in the corridor outside the medical facility, Picard waited in silence as Mynlara composed herself. Though she had maintained her composure in the patient ward while confronting Jodis, it was obvious that the Raqilan’s comments had affected her. She paced back and forth several steps, and Picard noted how her hands clenched and relaxed as she walked. After several moments, with the captain and Worf watching and as her own escorts stood nearby and awaited instructions, the fleet legate seemed to have regained her bearing.

“Vedapir,” she said, shifting her attention to the tall Golvonek male she had introduced as her second-in-command. “I want security officers stationed here immediately. We are taking the Raqilan prisoners into custody. For now, they are to remain confined in the medical treatment area.” As though sensing Picard’s eyes on her, she added, “Do not interfere with the newcomers’ work to care for the prisoners, but I want regular reports on their current status.”

“Understood, Fleet Legate,” replied Vedapir. Turning his own gaze to Picard and Worf, he asked, “What about you?”

Mynlara scowled. “If the newcomers wanted to hurt us, they could have done so before now. I will be fine. Attend your duties, Foctine Vedapir.”

His posture straightening, Vedapir nodded. “Yes, Fleet Legate,” he said before turning and heading off to carry out his assignment. Once he was gone, Mynlara turned back to Picard.

“I apologize, Captain,” she said after a moment. “I confess that I am still coming to terms with what we were told in there. I . . .” The words trailed off and she cast her gaze to the deck before drawing a deep breath. “As I said before, I have never actually met a Raqilan. I was not adequately prepared for that meeting.”

Picard replied, “No apology is necessary, Fleet Legate.”

Following Jodis’s outburst, Crusher had asserted her authority and banished from the room everyone who was not a patient or a member of the medical team. Mynlara was so caught off guard by the ferocity of the Raqilan’s comments that she had not protested when Picard ushered her from the patient ward and out of the medical facility.

“Your doctor is quite intimidating,” said the Golvonek officer.

“You have no idea.” Picard could not resist the smile that accompanied his reply.

Scowling, Mynlara shook her head. “I do not understand his remarks.” She waved her hand to indicate the corridor and, presumably, the rest of the
Arrow
. “He and his crew and this vessel come from the future? How is that possible?” When Picard said nothing, she leveled a finger at him. “He said you knew he spoke the truth. What does that mean? Are you in league with him?”

“No,” Picard answered, his tone firm. “As I’ve told you all along, we only just discovered the ship adrift in space a few days ago. We are only just beginning to understand its technology.”

“But you were aware of this claim of his,” Mynlara said. “This outlandish assertion of his that he has traveled from the future to destroy us.”

Knowing that the time for obfuscation had passed, Picard replied, “Not because of anything Jodis communicated to us. We have learned that traveling through time leaves residual signs, in the form of particles we call chronitons. Our past experiences with such phenomena have allowed us to develop technology to detect these particles and determine if something or someone has experienced a temporal event.”

Mynlara’s eyes widened in undisguised surprise. “Have
you
traveled through time?”

“Yes,” Worf said, “but I do not recommend it.”

Picard punctuated the Klingon’s reply with a small smile, which did little to alleviate the fleet legate’s obvious concern and uncertainty. “It’s not something to be undertaken lightly, and the risks of altering history are not to be underestimated.”

“But that’s what Jodis and this ship intended to do.” Mynlara had begun to pace again. “Their goal was to travel from the future and do what, exactly? Destroy Uphrel at a point before the war takes such a grave toll on both our worlds?”

Though he had wrestled with himself over how much information to convey to her, Picard realized that to continue evading her questions served no purpose. Thanks to Jodis, Mynlara and her people already knew something of the truth, and it was up to them how to proceed with the knowledge they now possessed. To engender trust, Picard had no option but to be honest and as straightforward as he was able.

“From what we’ve been able to ascertain based on a review of the ship’s onboard computer,” he said, “we believe the mission given to Jodis and his crew was to travel back to a point before your war began. If we’re correctly understanding the data we’ve found, the ship was attacked by Golvonek forces prior to its time jump from the future. That attack resulted in damage to various systems, including what we believe is the mechanism required for time travel. When the ship arrived at its destination point, the crew was not revived but instead remained in hibernation until my ship found it adrift.”

Mynlara closed her eyes for a moment as though weighing the enormity of what she had just heard. “So, you are saying that it was only fortunate happenstance which saved my planet from annihilation nearly eighty cycles before I was born.”

“That’s our best guess, yes,” Picard replied.

The weight of worlds seemed to descend upon her shoulders. “I have to report this to my superiors, but I cannot see how this will not affect the ongoing peace discussions.”

“How long have these negotiations been taking place?” Picard asked.

Frowning, Mynlara said, “The current sessions have been ongoing for nearly two cycles now. They start and stop at irregular intervals, based on the mood of various participants. Great progress will be made, but then something trivial derails the agreements reached to that point, and both sides regroup before starting again.” She stared at him, her eyes narrowing. “I am a military officer, sworn to obey all proper directives from my superiors and the civilian leadership that oversees us. However, it is frustrating to watch politicians bandy about as though their actions—or lack of actions—have no consequences to those bound by their decisions.”

“Such a system, while perhaps inconvenient at times, is far preferable to most alternatives,” Picard replied. Even the Raqilan, who appeared to be the aggressors in their conflict with the Golvonek, seemed to understand the virtues of a civilian government’s authority over its military, as evidenced by diplomats endeavoring to find some kind of workable resolution to end the war. “If both sides are committed to the peace process, then hope remains.”

Mynlara replied, “There are those who do not believe that both sides—at least, not everyone on both sides—really want peace. We know that some Raqilan leaders, civilian and military alike, do not want to stop until they have wiped out our ability to defend ourselves. Perhaps they even mean to subjugate us, though it is rare to hear talk of such things. For the moment, at least, the most extreme voices seem only to be calling for conquest, but such opinions appear to be in the minority. The Golvonek are not entirely without blame either, as there are those among my government who call for increasing the intensity of our attacks against Raqilan forces. It is not enough for them merely to defend our interests. In their minds, we must take the fight to Henlona with ever greater ferocity.” Once more, she shook her head. “I do not know that my people, after all this time, have the will to support such a campaign, but what are we to do?”

She again indicated the massive vessel around them. “What will happen when my superiors learn of this ship and the power it wields? Assuming they believe this story that it came from the future to destroy us, what does it say about us that in that time to come, we are
still
at war with the Raqilan? I fear such knowledge will serve only to break my people’s spirit.”

“It does not have to be that way,” said Worf. “If there is one thing our experience with time travel has taught us, it is that the future is not set. It can be altered. Many times, that is a very dangerous proposition, but there are times I would argue that such ability can be used for good.”

Picard added, “Indeed. Think about it, Mynlara: instead of this being a symbol of hopelessness, your people can use it to rally support for a change. Perhaps the Raqilan people, upon seeing what the future has in store for them, will also be compelled to seek another solution.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Mynlara asked.

“I most certainly do.”

Releasing another exasperated sigh, the Golvonek officer said, “They are not likely to listen to one such as me, but I believe such an argument could be made by a third party. Someone who stands apart from our conflict.”

“You’re asking me to address your world’s leaders?” Were this any other first contact scenario, such an act would not be unusual. Like any starship captain, Picard was empowered to represent Starfleet and the Federation as their ambassador in such situations, and so in that regard he was at ease with such a prospect. However, Picard could imagine hearing the complaints from agents of the Department of Temporal Investigations even across the expanse of light-years as he considered what they undoubtedly would consider a deliberate meddling with possible future events.

To hell with them
, he mused.
I live in the here and now, I refuse to be bound by predestination, and I refuse to stand by and allow others to be so enslaved. Not if there’s anything I can do to prevent it
.

“If I agree to speak to your superiors,” he said after a moment, “you must know I am required to do the same for the Raqilan. I cannot take sides in your conflict, and I cannot commit the Federation to such action. We must remain neutral, but I am willing to explain this situation as well as I’m able, to leaders from both sides.”

“I understand,” Mynlara replied. “Perhaps our leaders can be convinced to let you address the peace delegations.” Her expression changed. “But there is much to do before we reach that point.”

Picard asked, “What do you intend to do with Jodis and his crew?”

“They are still prisoners of war, Captain,” replied the fleet legate. “For now, duty requires that I continue to treat them as such, just as it demands that I make preparations to transfer this vessel to one of our facilities. I must notify my superiors of our current situation and receive further instructions.” She nodded to Worf before adding, “If you will excuse me, Captain.”

“By all means,” replied Picard.

After she had left two members of her security detail outside the medical facility, Mynlara departed, presumably returning to her transport craft in the landing bay.

Once she was out of earshot, Picard gestured for Worf to follow him up the passageway, away from the Golvonek guards.

“This is a most complicated situation,” said Worf in a low voice.

With a wry grin, Picard replied, “Number One, I see that the years have not yet taken their toll on your gift for understatement.”

Worf crossed his arms. “Do you think addressing the Raqilan and Golvonek leaders will accomplish anything?”

“It certainly can’t hurt,” Picard said. “A formal first meeting with representatives from one or both sides would likely have occurred if we’d continued our investigation into the system. Now that we’re aware of their situation, our only course if we wish to establish relations is dealing with both planets.” The captain just hoped that the gathering of leaders representing both worlds would allow him to demonstrate that there was an entire universe out there, waiting for them to resolve their own differences and embrace the hand of friendship which had been extended across the stars. While the Prime Directive allowed him to make such overtures to planets that had progressed to faster-than-light travel capabilities, there still existed a number of stipulations he was required to observe when meeting with representatives of less technologically progressed civilizations. In fact, Picard was treading in one of the gray areas where theory and procedure often failed to anticipate some twist or gap provided by reality. It was in situations like these that the experience and judgment of a starship commander became ever vital.

Behind him, the door to the medical facility opened and Crusher emerged. “Captain,” she said, presumably for the benefit of the Golvonek security officers still keeping vigil, “may I see you a moment?”

Entering the room once more, Picard and Worf waited as she closed the door before turning to them.

“Jodis wants to talk to you.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Picard replied, “Really? Did he say why?”

Beverly shook her head. “Only that he wanted to talk to you without Mynlara or any of her people present.”

After directing Lieutenants Cruzen and T’Sona to watch the door, Picard moved into the patient ward, where Jodis still lay immoblized on his bed.

“I apologize for the restraints,” he said, moving to stand next to the Raqilan.

“It is I who apologize for making them necessary, Captain.” Pausing, he eyed Picard for a moment before adding, “As a child, I used to enjoy stories about traveling to distant worlds and meeting the people who lived there.” He turned his head enough to look past Picard and study Worf. “None of those stories featured people like you, though. Still, when I was a boy, I used to wonder what my ancestors imagined about such people, before they and the Golvonek met.” He snorted. “Most of those stories seemed so far-fetched. Then again, stories about time travel were fanciful, as well.”