Encounter At Farpoint Part 3

Tasha was a superlative weapons officer, but the timing Picard required depended largely on the a.s.sumption that the hostile was traveling at its maximum speed. If it was not-if it could still increase its faster-than-light velocity, then the torpedoes would very likely detonate behind it, losing the advantage the command disk needed to get away. Picard was counting on the limitations of the alien's technology as an ally.

"On the count," Data said. "Six, five, four, three, two, one, separation."

At the rear of the saucer section, where it joined the gooseneck of the stardrive section, a crack appeared. The ma.s.sive retention a.s.semblies unlocked and pulled back into their housings. Jets of vapor hissed into vacuum as connections were pulled free.

"Captain's log. Moment of separation, Stardate 41153.75. We are now free to face the hostile."

"Good luck, sir," Worf murmured as he watched them drop away.

The great disk angled up, up and away from the cobra-shaped stardrive section. As they cleared, the locking mechanisms completed their rotation and finished up flush in their housings with a thump that was unheard in s.p.a.ce but which was felt in the disk. Worf checked his distance and ordered the impulse engines to full power. The immediate response quickly thrust the saucer section away so the stardrive section could maneuver. The instant that the saucer section cleared the warp envelope of the Enterprise battle module, it appeared to vanish. The Enterprise and its pursuer were past it in an instant too brief to register on any instruments.

This was what Picard had been hoping for-a chance for the saucer section to lose itself in the vastness of s.p.a.ce and make a run for Farpoint Station.

On the battle bridge, Data reported quietly, "Separation is successful, sir."

Picard found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.

"Grace a Dieu. Where is the hostile?"

Data tabbed his console, and the viewscreen again showed the glint of the alien vessel at its center.

The multiple flares of photon torpedo explosions were still glistening around it. Picard clenched his fist and hit his knee in triumph.

"Good timing. All stop. Reverse course."

The Enterprise collapsed its warp envelope and swung around to face its pursuer head on. On the huge forward viewer, Picard could see that the photon torpedoes had apparently had no effect on the Q ship. Despite several near-direct hits, the alien vessel remained unchanged. It drove on toward the Enterprise with no decrease in speed. The two ships were on a collision course.

Picard studied the viewscreen a moment longer and then said, "Hold position."

Data suppressed a surprised look and replied evenly, "Aye, sir."

"They'll be on us in minutes-" Troi began.

"I know that, Counselor."

"Will we make a fight of it, Captain?" Tasha asked. "If we can at least damage their ship-"

Picard pointed at the viewer and snorted. "Lieutenant Yar, are you recommending we fight a life form that has already demonstrated significant military superiority?" He stared at her, waiting. "If you think we have a chance of winning, I'd like to hear your advice."

Lt. Yar flushed and looked away, unable to face her captain's challenging look. He was right, of course. And she was embarra.s.sed.

Tasha Yar knew what her worst fault was. She reacted too quickly. It was why she was a good security chief. But it was also why she often had trouble coping with situations where ship's security was compromised. She still found it difficult to allow for diplomatic and strategic considerations.

The renegade colony in which she had grown up had been lawless and murderous. Her early years had been spent surviving, and all her experience had taught her to act first and try to control a situation before a.n.a.lyzing it. Until she entered Starfleet Academy, she had acted on the sure knowledge that hesitation could mean death. The humanitarian principles on which Starfleet based all its decisions had at first been a shock to her. But she had listened and she had learned. ...

Something about Starfleet's basic tenets spoke to her. Not to the person she pretended to be, or the performance she put on for the people around her, or even the person she wanted to be-it spoke to who she really was. Her secret self. The self that she had shared with no one in her life.

Starfleet's policies were based on the single a.s.sertion that Life is sacred. Everywhere.

Tasha had not trusted this a.s.sertion. Not at first. Her initial reaction had been skepticism and derision. The Starfleet Ethics and Moral Philosophy courses were full of those discussions. But after a while, Tasha began to realize that what they were really talking about was the same thing that she had secretly dreamed of for years.

Life as it is lived isn't necessarily the way life has to be. We can do better. We are each and every one of us, always capable of going beyond what we think are our limits. That is our history. We will do better.

Tasha realized-like the dawning of a great light-that Starfleet truly wanted the same things she did. Children did not have to die of starvation. People did not have to live in poverty. Illiteracy was not inevitable. The conditions under which she had grown up were a terrible aberration, and not a norm.

This was the life she had dreamed of-she could start living it today. And she had accepted that in a simple declaration: "If it is to be, let it begin with me."

And from that moment, she was never the same woman again.

But even so, there were moments-like this one-when she still responded with her old instincts. "I...

spoke before I thought, sir. We should look for some way to distract them from going after the saucer section."

"Better, Lieutenant," Picard said, nodding approval.

"Full stop, sir," Data reported. "Holding position."

Picard looked over at Troi, who was manning the communications board. "Troi, signal the following in all languages and on all frequencies. 'We surrender.' State that we are not asking for any terms or conditions."

A ripple of consternation flowed around the battle bridge as the crew exchanged puzzled looks.

Surrender? This from Jean-Luc Picard? Only Troi felt the calm, the confidence, the sense of rightness that the captain put forth. It was not a sense of failure or capitulation. Picard clearly had the conviction this was the only correct thing to do.

"Aye, sir," Troi said firmly. "All language forms and frequencies." She opened the communications channels and tied in the universal translator. "Enterprise to Q. We surrender. Repeat: we surrender.

Our surrender is unconditional. We do not ask for terms."

As Troi repeated the broadcast, all eyes turned to the viewscreen where the alien hostile was seen to be rapidly bearing down on them. As it neared them, the gleaming shape began to open up, partially revealing the grid. It curved and expanded, reaching out to enclose the Enterprise. As it encompa.s.sed them, a cacaphony of sound tore through the ship, the scream of metal being stressed beyond its limits. The entire battle section was shaken violently, forcing the crew to grab for anything solid that they could cling to. The raging, howling sound rose to a peak, and the violence of the shaking increased. A fierce, blinding flash of light bathed the battle bridge. Then there was silence.

Chapter Three.

THE LIGHT FADED.

Picard was no longer on the battle bridge. He, Data, Troi and Tasha were seated in the prisoner's dock of an immense courtroom. The courtroom was gleaming steel and gla.s.s, stark and supremely functional. Spectators were still filing in, and a buzz of excited speculation filled the air. A cadre of soldiers was spotted around the courtroom. They were armed and appeared to be uniformly surly. The clothing, hairstyles and facial decorations of the spectators also indicated the time period was the same as the soldiers'. Picard had always enjoyed the study of history; even the unpleasant chapters had their lessons to be learned. He recognized the architecture and tone of this setting in which they had been placed as apparent prisoners.

Picard was not sure exactly how it had happened. A time warp? Not likely. Transport to a carefully prepared setting? Possible, but if so, where were the other bridge officers? Why were only he, Troi, Tasha and Data here? Had Q changed the battle bridge somehow? That seemed the most likely probability. Q had had no difficulties changing his personal appearance when he appeared on the Enterprise and had ended with a characterization of this time period.

The sound of a bell drew their attention to a man at the front of the courtroom. An Asian in a long robe appeared, carrying a slim portable viewscreen. From his studies, Picard knew this would be a Mandarin-Bailiff. The man nodded to a court functionary, who once more used an ancient Oriental bell to gain attention.

"The prisoners will all stand," the Mandarin-Bailiff announced. Picard motioned to his officers to remain seated.

Data had been studying the room with great curiosity. Picard could almost feel the intensity of a.n.a.lyza-tion from the android as he catalogued the courtroom, its spectators and appurtenances.

"Historically intriguing, Captain," Data commented. "Very, very accurate."

Picard nodded, his admiration held in abeyance by the feeling that this setting would be used as a weapon against them. "Mid-21st Century, the post atomic horror ..." Picard hated the era. It had been a time of deep human crisis. Still wounded and bleeding from the terror of nuclear war, humanity had sought answers to its pain and problems through the merciless application of a new form of dictatorial government and law representing neither capitalism nor communism, but taking a few dollops from both. It had been the last of the worst Earth governments, for once it had been overthrown, humanity began to grow toward its true potential. Q, of course, had chosen to ignore later eras that would place humans in a better light.

The court functionary clanged the bell again. "All present, make respectful attention to honored judge!" the bailiff intoned.

The spectators, still pushing and crowding to get in, dropped into silence and stood. Some had to be prodded to their feet by the heavily armed soldiers. Picard held out his .hand, palm down, to Data, Troi and Tasha, indicating they should not get up.

Troi shook her head, concerned. "Careful, sir. This is not an illusion or a dream." "These courts happened in our past." "I don't understand either, but this is real. I can feel that. If Q has created a reality here, the soldiers' guns are authentic and we could be shot if we don't obey." "If we're on trial, Q won't want us shot right away," Picard pointed out.

"No, he might give us a minute," Tasha said sourly. A soldier moved toward them, leveling his weapon at them. "Get to your feet, criminals!"

The Starfleet officers ignored him. The court functionary clanged the bell again, and the last few whispers from spectators died away. Data glanced up and nodded to indicate Picard should look in that direction. "At least we're acquainted with the judge, Captain."

Picard was not entirely surprised to see the Q they had met on their bridge seated at a floating judge's bench that lifted into the room. He had seized on Picard's words about prosecution and judgment with a fervor that had surprised Picard at the time. Now Picard saw Q had somehow created this situation in order to do exactly that-prosecute and judge. If humans would not voluntarily return to their own solar system, they would be sentenced to do so.

Suddenly a nearby officer fired a burst of shots at Picard's feet and advanced on him, screaming angrily. "Attention! On your feet, attention!" Before the captain could react, Tasha had sprung up, pivoted in and wrestled the weapon away from the man. He tried to grab her, but she easily hooked his feet from under him with one quick move of her own leg and sent him crashing to the floor on his back.

The judge's chair shot forward as Q shouted, "You are out of order!"

"Lieutenant!" Picard snapped.

Two other soldiers stepped forward, their weapons raised. But it was not a death sentence for Tasha.

Both men fired a burst at the fallen officer. His body jumped as the automatic weapons pumped bullets into him, and the spectators cheered and applauded the performance uninhibitedly.

"The prisoners will not be harmed," Q said pleasantly. "Until they are found guilty." He pa.s.sed an amused glance to Picard, who did not respond to the taunt. Q flicked his hand negligently toward the dead officer's body. "Dispose of that," he said coldly. "Now then, Captain ..."

Picard plucked the automatic weapon from Tasha, staring her down. She hesitated, then sat back down.

Satisfied, Picard took a step toward Q. "Can we a.s.sume you mean this will be a fair trial?"

"Yes, absolutely equitable."

Picard hesitated and then handed the weapon to one of the soldiers. Q floated his bench to the-front of the courtroom and nodded to the bailiff. "Proceed."

The Mandarin-Bailiff consulted his portable viewscreen. "Before this gracious court now appear these prisoners to answer for the multiple and grievous savageries of their species. How plead you, criminals?"

Data moved forward slightly. "If I may, Captain...." Picard gave him an abrupt nod. He had a feeling he knew in advance how this was going to go. He could see it... what in historical vernacular would have been called "a setup." Meanwhile, the android had turned to address Q. "Objection, your Honor. In the year 2036, the new United Nations declared that no Earth citizen could be made to answer for the crimes of their race or forbears."

"Objection denied!" Q instantly retorted. The functionary clanged the bell raucously, and the spectators cheered enthusiastically.

Picard shook his head tiredly. As he thought, they were labeled as criminals in advance, guilty until proven innocent. Q had already judged human past, not their present or their promise for the future, in order to brand them as unfit to venture into the galaxy with other "more advanced" races. Q's next words further proved Picard's theory.

"This is a court of the twenty-first century, by which time more 'rapid progress' had caused all 'United Earth' nonsense to be abolished." He smiled triumphantly at Picard.

Tasha angrily sprang up again, poised like a fighter on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. "Why don't you judge what we are now?"

Picard reached out for her. "Lieutenant, no... ."

She shrugged him off, for once unmindful of the fact he was the captain, her superior officer, and a man she idolized. "I must..." She turned to face Q. "... because I grew up on a world that allowed things like this court. And it was people like these," gesturing toward her fellow officers, "who saved me from it. I say this so-called court should get down on its knees to what Starfleet is, what it represents-"

"Silence!" Q roared, and he waved his hand toward her. A fluttering electric blue weave enveloped her, and she instantly went rigid. Data jumped forward to catch her frozen body before it fell, then he gently lowered her to the floor.

"She is frozen in a cryonic state," Data said, "As Lieutenant Torres was."

Troi touched Tasha's cold form and uncharacteristically flared with anger. "You barbarian!" she shouted at Q. "You call yourselves an enlightened race, and all you know how to do is punish anyone who offends you. That woman-"

Picard gripped her arm, and she cut off her tirade. He shook his head at her. She sensed the urgent warning he was sending. Gathering her anger, she nodded back at him.

"Criminals keep silence!" the Mandarin-Bailiff chanted.

"Quite," Q agreed. "I insist upon an orderly procedure in my court." He nodded at Tasha. "Civilized beings know how to conduct themselves in the presence of their superiors."

"You've got a lot to learn about humans if you think you can torture us or frighten us into silence."

Picard looked back to Data, who was taking pulse and heartbeat readings from Tasha. "How is she?"

"Alive-and stable, sir. Uncertain as to how long she can survive if left in this state."

The Mandarin-Bailiff turned to Picard. "You are charged, criminals. How plead you?"

Picard ignored him. Around the courtroom, the spectators grumbled and buzzed in irritation. The spectacle they antic.i.p.ated was not forthcoming, and they were angry. Q sensed their discontent and turned on the captain himself.

"How plead you? You will answer the charges, criminals."

"Just a moment ago, you promised 'the prisoners will not be harmed.' We plead nothing so long as you break your own rules."

A low, irritated mutter swept the spectators again. The criminals were supposed to act as programmed, not in this rebellious manner. What was the matter with them?

"I suggest you center your attention on this trial, Captain," Q said coldly. "It may be your only hope."

"And I suggest you are now having second thoughts about it! You're considering that if you conduct this trial fairly, which was your promise, you may lose."

Q laughed, a short mirthless bark. "Lose?"

"Yes," the captain said. "Keep to your agreement, and we agree to abide by your decision." He looked meaningfully at Tasha's frozen body. "a.s.saulting a prisoner is hardly a fair trial."

Q considered. "This is a merciful court," he said finally. He waved his hand downward at Tasha, and a ripple of blue light played over her. The young woman stirred, eyelids flickering. She moved stiffly at first, as though the cold had not quite left her. Then she sat up slowly, with Data a.s.sisting her.

The spectators had become disorderly again, shouting protests about this unseemly kindness on the judge's part. Some of them were standing on the benches, shaking their fists at Q. The judge brought his hovering bench up over their heads and hugely amplified his voice. "Silence!" he roared. The entire courtroom trembled under the sonic impact of his order. The quarrelsome spectators sank down into their seats again, their heads low, exchanging frightened glances.

Picard watched Q's display of power impa.s.sively. He had seen bully boys throw their weight around before. And so far, Q had not struck him as truly superior, only more powerful. Superiority, as Picard measured it, was a matter of intelligence, consideration, and morality.

In Picard's mind, Q was coming up very short of mere human standards, much less the exalted superior ones he pretended to.

Q lowered his bench to face Picard again. "Continuing these proceedings, I must caution you that legal trickery is not permitted. This is a court of fact."

Picard had seen it coming, and uttered the last words at the same time as Q. "... court of fact. Yes.