Star Trek - Masks Part 1

Masks.

by John Vornholt.

Chapter One.

THE MASK LAY ON THE TABLE, glistening even in the subdued light of theEnterprise's Ten-Forward lounge. Lights from ten thousand stars played upon its burnished metal surface, which was intercut with opaque ribbons of black and navy blue flowing from the nose hole of the mask like the strands of a spiderweb. Its two eye sockets were outlined with green and yellow jewels that might have been emeralds and topazes. Sweeping eyebrows made of rubylike stones gave the mask a faintly quizzical expression. This was offset by an oval of stern black jewels, which encircled the mouth opening, offering no hint of expression or emotion. The chin of the mask was exaggerated, jutting out boldly then curling protectively under what would be the wearer's own chin. The mask's outer edges swirled back into short but perfectly formed wings tipped with lavender feathers. The handmade mask was improbably beautiful.

"It's gorgeous," murmured Katherine Pulaski, reaching tentatively for the artifact. "May I hold it?"

A tall athletic man, clad in leather frontierstyle clothing and wearing his sandy hair to his shoulders, reached out to stay her hand. His creased face smiled, kindly but determinedly. "No, Doctor, you may not. I don't want anything to happen to this mask before we reach Lorca. You see, it's my calling card."

Wesley Crusher noticed Kate's disappointed expression. The young man liked the ship's new doctor and her frankness. "It looks heavy," Wesley observed, trying to change the subject.

"It's not really heavy, lad," said Lewis. "It's made out of an alloy that's mostly aluminum. There's lots of aluminum on Lorca."

Wesley saw Guinan among the handful of onlookers admiring the mask. But unlike the others, the dark-skinned humanoid seemed more interested in Fenton Lewis than in the rare artwork.

"Are those real animal skins you have on?" she asked innocently.

Fenton Lewis narrowed his gaze at Guinan, who seemed completely oblivious of his scrutiny. "Trading in animal skins is illegal in the Federation," he observed.

"There are a great many places that aren'tin the Federation," she answered.

"That's true," agreed the amba.s.sador, "and I've been to many of them. Wild places. You know, many of the old Earth explorers wore animal skins in the wilderness. Skins wear better than fabric and cut down on the human scent." He smiled as he fingered a cuff that was worn smooth and dark. "This outfit has seen me through many sc.r.a.pes. I get the information I need to do my job-without asking too many questions."

"Speaking of questions," Guinan responded cheerfully, "did I ask you what you wanted to drink?"

"I'll take some of that d.a.m.ned Ferengi juice," growled Lewis.

"One synthehol coming up."

Guinan hurried back behind her counter just as the doors breezed open to admit Jean-Luc Picard and William T. Riker. Though Riker was taller than Picard and built much more powerfully, there was no doubt who commanded. The wiry, balding Picard had an aura of strength and authority born of character and of the respect accorded him. The crowd in the room parted to allow the captain and his first officer to approach Fenton Lewis.

"Amba.s.sador Lewis?" asked Picard, gazing at the colorfully garbed stranger. He maintained his dignified demeanor only a few seconds before spotting the gleaming mask. He leaned over it excitedly. "Is this mask genuine? Is it Lorcan?"

"Absolutely, Captain," said Lewis, motioning to the artifact. "A genuine Amba.s.sador's Mask. It didn't come cheap, I can tell you that. Feel free to examine it."

Riker smiled slightly at his captain's unexpected show of excitement. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard," he said, "and I am Commander William T. Riker, first officer of theEnterprise . We would have preferred to meet you in the observation lounge. Normally, this facility is reserved for crew members and ship's residents."

"Noted," said Picard, never taking his eyes off the striking mask. "But I think we can make an exception in the amba.s.sador's case. He's come a long way and has a very important mission."

"And he's very thirsty," Lewis added, as he gratefully took a small gla.s.s from Guinan. He downed the drink in one gulp and handed the gla.s.s back to her. "Hit me again, and this time make it a double."

Guinan winked at Wesley. "He's lucky Data's not here."

"Data?" asked the amba.s.sador.

"Our android," explained Wesley. "He takes language very literally."

Captain Picard carefully lifted the Lorcan mask with both hands and stared into the hypnotic visage. "Stunning, absolutely stunning."

Katherine Pulaski murmured in Wesley's ear, "He wouldn't letme touch it."

As if he overheard her, Picard replied, "You have no idea how rare these masks are. A Lorcan has to be killed to be separated from his mask. Isn't that true, Amba.s.sador?"

"Not entirely," said the long-haired civilian. "In some instances, Lorcans have to be defeated in hand-to-hand combat before they will relinquish their masks, but even in those cases, the combat isn't always to the death. The Amba.s.sador's Mask is one of the few masks that's allowed to leave the planet and to be worn by off-worlders."

Guinan handed Lewis a fresh drink, and he took a long sip. "I'm surprised and relieved, Captain, that you know so much about Lorca," the amba.s.sador said.

"I know very little about it," Picard admitted, turning the mask over to inspect its leather bindings. "But I'm an incurable romantic about a place where chivalry is still in force and where the most dangerous weapon is a sword. Perhaps I have an idealized view of Lorca, but that's the view I've absorbed in the computer library."

"We'll know the truth soon." Fenton Lewis smiled. "Perhaps you'll accompany me on my mission."

Commander Riker cleared his throat respectfully but firmly. "Normally the first officer leads the away teams. The captain is too valuable to risk."

"It's the chance of a lifetime," remarked Lewis, slyly c.o.c.king one eyebrow. "As the captain said, the Lorcans have nothing more dangerous than swords."

"Swords can kill," Riker said with finality.

Still mesmerized, Captain Picard continued to stare at the mask of flowing silver metal festooned with gemstones and feathers. "How dangerous can a people be who would make something so beautiful?"

Picard handed the mask back to Fenton Lewis with great reluctance. "We reach planetary orbit in eighteen hours, and we'll have a complete briefing in the observation lounge at zero-four-hundred. We'll decide then who, if anyone, is to accompany Amba.s.sador Lewis."

Will Riker was troubled some hours later when he repaired to his quarters for his sleep period. He thought Fenton Lewis had overstepped his position by encouraging the captain to join him on the away team. Of course, Riker had to admit, Captain Picard hadn't seemed to need much encouraging, as enamored as he was with barbarous cultures. The first officer could only hope that Worf, as security chief, would second his opposition to the captain leaving the ship with a buffoon like Fenton Lewis. The amba.s.sador might be a colorful character, but that didn't ent.i.tle him to the run of theEnterprise after ten minutes on board. And it certainly didn't ent.i.tle him to turn the time-tested procedures of a starship upside down. Most of all, Riker's instinct told him to watch Lewis, closely.

Riker stripped off his tunic, revealing a broad, well-muscled chest. Then he manipulated the console on his desk.

"Computer," he said.

"Yes, Commander Riker."

"Tell me about Amba.s.sador Fenton Lewis."

"One moment please." After a brief pause, the soothing feminine voice of the ship's computer continued: "Amba.s.sador Fenton Lewis. Age: forty-six. Place of birth: Alpha Centauri IV, Lewis Colony."

"Lewis Colony," Riker snorted. That figured.

"Shall I go on?" the computer queried.

"Yes, please."

"Educated on Earth. Graduated with honors from Oxford University with degrees in anthropology and sociology. After completing his graduate studies, Fenton Lewis was offered admittance to Starfleet Academy but declined in order to join a civilian trading mission to the Klingon Empire. Sole survivor of the crash landing of the freighterNystrom Egbert, he lived in the wilderness of Orestes VII for three years, during which time he mapped eight thousand square kilometers of the planet's surface. After his rescue, he joined the Diplomatic Service as an intermediary first cla.s.s. Twice received the Federation Medal of Honor for sacrificing personal safety in order to mediate armed conflicts. Promoted six years ago to the post he currently holds: amba.s.sador-at-large with special duties. Author of three books on wilderness survival."

"Hmmm," said Riker grudgingly. He might have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but Lewis had earned the right to a somewhat c.o.c.ky att.i.tude.

"That is the brief biography of Amba.s.sador Lewis," the computer added. "More data is available. Do you wish a more detailed report?"

"No," answered Riker. "Just tell me, does he have any black spots on his record? Any unfortunate episodes?"

"Certain portions of Amba.s.sador Lewis's record are cla.s.sified," replied the computer. "But the Ferengi Alliance has tried and convicted him in absentia for murder."

"Murder?" said Riker, raising his eyebrows. "That doesn't sound very diplomatic."

"I don't understand," the computer replied.

"Never mind. What exactly happened between Lewis and the Ferengi?"

"Data removed," answered the computer, "by request of Amba.s.sador Lewis."

The man did pull some weight within the Federation, Riker decided. He turned off his console and lowered the lights in his cabin to a warm golden glow.

Will Riker washed up and lay in his bed for some time before falling asleep.

From the aft turbolift, three relief crew members filed onto the bridge and stood silently at attention. Jean-Luc Picard noted their arrival and rose from his control seat. Riker was already standing and shifting uneasily on his feet. He looked like a teakettle that was about to boil over. And why shouldn't he? Picard smiled to himself. Riker's job was to protect his captain from all hazards, including himself. A good first officer-and Riker was certainly that-considered the captain no more expendable than any other integral part of the ship, like the matter-antimatter reactor or the computer. Unlike the computer, however, the captain had a mind of his own.

"Ensign Crusher," Picard said, "maintain course at warp speed."

"Yes, Captain," Wesley answered briskly.

"Number One, Worf, Data, La Forge, to the observation lounge," Picard ordered. He turned back to Wesley. "Please ask Amba.s.sador Lewis, Counselor Troi, and Dr. Pulaski to join us."

"They're already there," answered the teenager.

"Good."

Silently the two humans, the android, and the Klingon followed the captain off the bridge as the relief personnel manned the vacated consoles.

Jean-Luc Picard sensed that his first officer wanted to tell him something, but the big man held his tongue. Not that Picard couldn't guess what he would say if given an opportunity to speak. Well, he would have that opportunity, but not until everyone had been fully briefed on Amba.s.sador Lewis's mission.

When they reached the observation lounge, they found Deanna Troi and Katherine Pulaski studying the Lorcan mask. Apparently, thought Picard, Lewis was not letting it out of his sight. The amba.s.sador himself stood at the huge port windows, watching the spectacular view of stars stretching and popping through the sky at warp speed. His plainsman outfit and long unruly hair made him look more like a refugee from a history book than one of the Federation's most honored diplomats.

"A phenomenal sight," he said to no one in particular. "With so much out there, it makes you want just a small piece of it for yourself." He turned to the others and smiled charmingly. "Of course, home is a nonexistent concept to a career diplomat. We're always on somebody else's turf."

"Turf?" asked Data quizzically. "Do you refer to the term for an athletic playing field?"

"Ah, you must be Data," the amba.s.sador nodded. "The lad told me about you."

"Amba.s.sador," said Picard with a sweep of his hand, "may I also introduce you to Lieutenant La Forge, chief engineer, and Lieutenant Worf, security chief."

Fenton Lewis nodded to Geordi, who looked deceptively stern behind the visor that covered his sightless eyes. Then the amba.s.sador turned to Worf and uttered something indecipherable in a language full of guttural growls and clicks. After his initial surprise, Worf responded in kind.

With some annoyance, Riker tapped his insignia badge. "My translator doesn't seem to be activated."

"Excuse me, Commander," said the Klingon, his ma.s.sive brow still wrinkled with surprise. "The amba.s.sador was merely saying that he was honored to meet me."

"I'm honored to meet all of you," Lewis replied expansively. "I wish I had more time to get to know each of you. But we shall arrive at Lorca in a matter of hours, isn't that right, Captain?"

"Yes, it is."

"Then we'd better get started." Lewis motioned to the conference table, and theEnterprise crew members took their seats. "Much of what I'm about to tell you you could find out from your computer, but I've made a special study of Lorca and have talked to some recent Federation visitors to the planet. I believe n.o.body else in the Federation is as well versed in Lorcan customs as I am.

"Lorca was settled about two hundred years ago by two separate groups from Earth. One of them was a wandering theater company-in fact, the planet's name is taken from a famous Earth playwright. They used Lorca as a rest and recreational stop, a place to rehea.r.s.e new productions, put on play festivals, and house their nontraveling family members. The other group was a cult of ant.i.technologists who went there seeking a paradise where they could live a simple communal life. The fruit-and-berry folk hired the acting company to take them to Lorca in their ship, and that was the last Earth ever heard of either group.

"Communications being what they were two hundred years ago," he continued, "Earth thought the ship had been destroyed en route with all aboard. But it turned out that the ship did make it to Lorca, and later on, perhaps a thousand of the settlers survived a cataclysm that can only be compared to all-out nuclear war. As a result of a number of sudden and savage volcanic eruptions, Lorca was transformed from a paradise into a fire storm as volcanoes spewed enough ash into the air to lower the surface temperatures by at least half. But somehow, though all of their technology was destroyed, a thousand or so hardy souls survived. Over the course of time, they have developed a warrior-run feudal society that is completely devoid of technology."

He held up the startling Amba.s.sador's Mask and rotated it dramatically. "One thing they never forgot from their theatrical heritage was the use of masks. The entire society is structured around masks such as this one. Everyone's standing in this rural community is based upon the type of mask he or she wears. A person of lesser rank shows obedience to a person of higher rank. Therefore a serf wears a simple clay mask, and a n.o.bleman wears a mask made from the rarest feathers, gems, and metals. And I don't mean they wear these masks on special occasions-they wear them all the time. Appearing in public without a mask would be akin to us walking buck naked in public. It simply isn't done."

Deanna Troi held up a hand to ask a question, and Lewis nodded to the exotically beautiful Betazoid.

"Can these people rise from one social rank to another," she asked, "merely by wearing a different mask?"

"Ah," the amba.s.sador said, "that is where the warrior mentality comes in. At any time, one citizen of Lorca may challenge another's right to wear the mask of a certain rank. If mere words or a show of wealth and entourage are not enough to substantiate the right, a duel ensues. Most of these swordfights are ritualistic, with the winner sparing the loser's life and taking his mask as a prize. If the mask is of greater value than his own, the victor may begin wearing it, thus increasing his stature in the community."

"Fascinating," remarked Kate Pulaski, leaning forward with her usual intensity. "Theoretically, then, a person could wear any mask he chooses?"

Lewis nodded. "As long as he can obtain it and defend his right to wear it."

Will Riker narrowed his gaze. "Are the duels always simply ritualistic?"

"Almost invariably," the amba.s.sador answered.

"Almost?" Riker countered.

Fenton Lewis smiled. "Lorca is a violent planet. None of our information has been verified." He stepped closer to the conference table. "That's why I'm going there, to get all of our questions answered. Recent reports have shown that the planet may be due for another series of cataclysmic eruptions, which could cause another devastating volcanic winter. We'll send a team of geologists to make a final evaluation later on, but first we need to open diplomatic relations. After all, we owe something to these people, who are of Earth stock, even if they hardly remember it."

Fenton Lewis stalked back and forth. "The Federation is also concerned because a number of Lorcan masks have been showing up at Ferengi art auctions. Given the history of the Ferengi, we're worried that they might turn Lorca into one of their infamous mining colonies, or worse. If Lorcans ask for protection, we'll be able to provide it.

"On the other hand," he added, "maybe the Lorcans are too warlike to allow us to establish diplomatic relations with them. One of the problems is that they don't seem to have a centralized government. Their nominal head of state is a semi-mythological figure called Almighty Slayer."

"Almighty Slayer?" asked Geordi incredulously, breaking into a wide grin.

"I hope he exists," said Fenton Lewis, "because he's the one I'm going there to find."

Everyone sat still for several moments, letting the scope and danger of Fenton Lewis's a.s.signment sink in.

Worf finally spoke: "You'll need a full security detachment."

"No, no," Lewis said determinedly, "I don't want to show up there with an army. The Lorcans are eager enough to fight as it is. The good thing about this custom of wearing masks is that a small party of off-worlders can blend in with the natives without attracting attention."

The group gradually shifted their eyes to Captain Picard, who, so far, hadn't said a word and was ma.s.saging the cleft in his chin as he compiled his thoughts. "Amba.s.sador Lewis," he finally said, "your mission presents theEnterprise with several problems. First of all, we know so little about Lorca that it may take weeks or even months to find the appropriate parties with whom to negotiate. We don't have any other business pending, but if I know Starfleet, they're not going to allow us to orbit this planet indefinitely."

"I realize that," Lewis replied, "and I'm prepared to beam down alone. It wouldn't be the first time. TheEnterprise, or another ship, could check on my progress after a prescribed period of time."