Star Trek - Requiem. Part 1

Requiem.

by Michael Jan Friedman.

Prologue.

Stardate: 16175.4 Earth Calendar Date: 2345 (Twenty-five Years Ago) THE LIFT DOORS OPENED and Captain Picard entered the bridge. Crusher, he noted, was already at his post.

"Good morning, Captain," Crusher offered cheerfully.

"Good morning, Jack," Picard replied, watching as the lieutenant commander on watch quickly vacated the center seat.

Picard took his place in the captain's chair. Vigo was next on the bridge, placing his tall, blue-skinned form at the weapons console. Picard's exec, Gilaad Ben Zoma, came a moment later, and the others quickly followed.

Crusher had already prepared the morning report, and his handsome human features were typically animated.

"Very little activity, sir," he said evenly. "A minor course correction at 0600 to avoid an asteroid-location noted and logged. We've compensated and will arrive on time at Alpha Pensura."

"Excellent," Picard replied. "Run a level-one diagnostic on sensors. We'll need them at peak-"

"Captain," his communications officer interrupted. "A priority message from a ship in Beta Quadrant. No ident.i.ty codes, just the priority channel."

"Answer hail," Picard said. "Put them on the screen." Picard stood and turned his attention to the forward viewer. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Stargazer. How may we be of a.s.sistance?"

Picard had never spoken directly to a Gorn, so he started ever so slightly when the alien face appeared on the screen. As the Gorn considered him, Picard had only a moment to take in the reptilian features: the coa.r.s.e green skin, the multifaceted, almost insectoid eyes, and the prominent teeth.

"Captain," the Gorn said-the computer rendering the voice against a background of hisses and the sounds of guttural breathing. "We wish to speak with you in person. Bring your ship to the coordinates we are transmitting now."

Picard kept his tone and expression even. "Of course, we welcome-"

But the image of the Gorn snapped off the screen.

Jack Crusher was the first to speak. "Captain, what was that?"

Picard turned to face his science officer. "I suspect it was a beginning, Mr. Crusher ... a beginning."

Picard watched intently as the tape neared its end. The starship commander-the tape's protagonist-was obviously exhausted, and favoring his left leg. The captain instantly recognized the signs-and knew the commander was near the end of his endurance.

The story never lost its appeal for Jean-Luc, and for perhaps the hundredth time in his adult life, he watched as the moment of inspiration hit the starship commander. Watched as the nearly beaten man collected his materials: simple chemicals, stones, and a bamboo tube. Watched as the commander faced his enemy, aimed his crude homemade cannon, and then prepared to take his impossible chance.

As enthralled as ever, Picard looked on as the commander lit the fuse ... and then nothing. The tape ended where it always did, a split second before the fight was won or lost, a split second before the death or survival of the starship commander and his crew would be decided forever.

The architects of that long-ago conflict, the mysterious and powerful Metrons, had pitted the two commanders against each other and set the stakes. They had chosen that moment to end their transmission. Starfleet had subsequently sealed the records of the incident, and the commander's solution had remained a mystery.

Picard, of course, had faced the identical situation more than once. Captain James T. Kirk's encounter with the captain of the Gorn ship on a stark and desolate world had become legend ... and simulations of that encounter were a common test of cadets at Starfleet Academy.

By Picard's recollection, he'd been "killed" six times by the Gorn. The first time, he had been caught by surprise and died after a brief hand-to-hand battle with the immensely strong reptilian humanoid. On another occasion, he'd tried Kirk's trick with the cannon, earning himself painful burns on his hands and four weeks with an eye patch.

In Picard's last four encounters with the Gorn, he'd died trying to negotiate with the alien captain.

Somewhere in between, Picard knew, was Kirk's solution. Somehow, the captain of that early Enterprise had altered the game. The rules that the Metrons had set down were simple: the two captains would face each other in single combat, for their lives and the survival of their ships. The game had, in fact, only one rule ... survive. That much, it was clear, Kirk had done.

Yet, apparently, the Gorn ship had been spared as well. Kirk had found a way to win much more than his own life and the lives of his crew. Somehow. It was an intriguing problem.

Picard's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his officers, led by his exec, Ben Zoma-the first officer's dark gaze already fixed on the captain, indicating his concerns about their situation.

Ben Zoma was followed by the very tall, imposing Dr. Greyhorse and then by the equally imposing blue-skinned figure of Lieutenant Vigo.

Science Officer Jack Crusher was the last to enter and the first to speak. "We've run a number of computer checks, sir, and the message was indeed from the Gorn. It originated from the dead center of Gorn s.p.a.ce, and the rendezvous coordinates will place us a short distance from the conjectured position of the Gorn homeworld."

Picard felt the excitement rise in his face. The possibilities.

"It would seem," he said, "the Gorn are very serious in their overture-which means we could become the first Federation citizens to see their world."

Weapons Officer Vigo frowned. "They are certainly serious, but not necessarily friendly. After all, we don't know what they want."

Most of the others nodded in agreement, Picard among them. "True, Mr. Vigo, but we can guess. Mr. Crusher?"

Jack Crusher stood and walked toward the conference-room viewscreen, where Captain Kirk was facing the Gorn in a still image. With his characteristic half smile, Crusher began, "Captain James T. Kirk's encounter with the Gorn nearly seventy-five years ago is well doc.u.mented, up to a point. In what is commonly known as the Cestus Three ma.s.sacre and officially known as the Cestus Three incident, the Gorn attacked an innocent Federation outpost.

"The U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701 then engaged the Gorn, but the fighting was stopped by a powerful alien race called the Metrons, who arranged for Captain Kirk to face the Gorn captain in single combat. Of course, we don't know what Kirk's solution was, but we do know that he saved his ship. We also know he came to an arrangement that spared the Gorn ship as well.

"At that time the Gorn had technology and weaponry roughly equivalent to Starfleet's-phasers, comparable warp drive, and so on-and the Gorn ship was a fair match for the Enterprise of the day. But I'm not telling you anything that you didn't learn in the Academy."

Crusher gave an uncharacteristic frown. "And three-quarters of a century later, most of what we know or can deduce about the Gorn is still based on these records from the Enterprise. After that encounter, the Federation ceded Cestus Three to the Gorn, recognizing that it resided in Gorn s.p.a.ce. Then the Federation and the Gorn negotiated a border via subs.p.a.ce communications. Since that time, the Gorn have declined repeated efforts to establish formal diplomatic or trade relations. What contact we've had has been through neutral free traders who tend to operate on the fringes of Federation s.p.a.ce."

First Officer Ben Zoma gave the Gorn on the viewscreen a cool appraisal. "They have offered a meeting, and I don't want to ignore the historic implications here, but I recommend caution. They could be hiding something."

Vigo nodded his agreement. "They could be preparing for another encounter, something that will give them an advantage over us."

Dr. Greyhorse shifted his large body in his chair and raised his deep, resonant voice. "Could they be afraid?"

Crusher shrugged. "Maybe they're merely keeping to themselves. We simply don't have enough information to make an informed guess." Crusher returned Picard's steady gaze. "I'm sorry, sir."

Picard waved off the apology. "What do we know about the Gorn themselves, Jack?"

Crusher took a moment to gather his thoughts. "They are obviously reptilian, closely resembling Earth crocodilians and lizards. They're what we used to call cold-blooded. Lacking a mammal's internal thermostat and the need to maintain a constant temperature, their bodies require less fuel and are almost certainly able to survive in harsh climates with little available food and water. And of course, they have a high degree of intelligence."

"And they're highly aggressive," Vigo volunteered. "After all, their first contact with the Federation was the attack on Cestus Three."

"True," Crusher allowed. He manipulated the viewscreen controls, and an image of a Gorn appeared. "Following a reptilian model, it stands to reason that the Gorn are very territorial. They also appear to move slowly for a sentient species, and slower reptiles tend to have an immediate fight response. They did claim that the attack on Cestus Three was a defensive measure, which is why, ultimately, the base was ceded to the Gorn."

Picard gestured for Crusher to sit. "Excellent insights, which we will have to bear in mind."

"Unfortunate that we don't know more," Ben Zoma sighed.

"Certainly," Picard replied. "But I doubt we will ever have all the information we need or would like. For now, we can think the best of the Gorn initiative and hope that they will not disappoint us." Picard antic.i.p.ated Vigo's response. "Though we shall proceed with caution and take every possible precaution to ensure our own safety-so that we are able to report our findings back to Starfleet."

Picard leveled his eyes at Ben Zoma. "Prepare a landing party that includes representatives of all of the sciences, and a full security team. We may very well be witnessing history here, gentlemen. These days will both test and define us. For now, all we can do is keep our best foot forward when we meet our hosts."

Seventeen hours later, Picard was on the bridge when the Stargazer reached the Gorn's coordinates.

"Coming into visual range, sir," the ensign at communications announced.

The captain was out of his chair before he gave his order. "On screen, full magnification." The oblong shape of the Gorn ship appeared on the forward viewer.

Picard's next comment was addressed to the bridge crew at large. "We are privileged to be the first Starfleet crew to see a Gorn starship. No other vessel has come this close."

"Full sensor scan, sir?" Crusher asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

"Absolutely not, Mr. Crusher. They might find a full scan invasive. Pa.s.sive sensors only."

Quiet ruled the bridge for the next few moments as the crew watched the growing image of the Gorn ship. It had two nacelles, which Picard recognized as typical of most warp-capable s.p.a.cefaring races. The Gorn's nacelles were forward-swept on the underside of the vessel-the most graceful feature of a ship that was fairly stark, with hard angles.

We are the first, Picard thought, with the mixture of pride and grat.i.tude that had characterized so much of his Starfleet career. The first to see this ship. And we will be the first to know these beings.

Ben Zoma was the first to break the silence. "She won't win any prizes for beauty."

"For that matter, neither will we," Jack chimed in.

Picard smiled and let the comment pa.s.s.

"The Gorn are raising shields; sir," Crusher said, his voice carrying the concern that Picard felt as well.

"Shields, Captain?" Vigo asked from the weapons console.

"No," Picard said without hesitation. "We will take no provocative action."

"Their phaser banks are on-line, sir," Crusher added. And then before Picard could respond: "They're discharging."

Two greenish beams leapt out from the underside of the Gorn ship. From the angle of the beams, Picard could tell that they would strike the main hull. An instant later, he felt a subtle vibration through the deck of his ship. Strange, he mused. By rights, a full-power shot should have shaken them much harder, even if the Gorn hadn't upgraded their weapons at all in the seventy-five years since their last encounter with the Federation.

"Mr. Vigo, shields up. Mr. Crusher, calculate the power of that shot, double it and feed the data to the weapons console. Mr. Vigo, fire now."

The phasers leapt from the Enterprise and caught the Gorn ship aft, striking the vessel's shields and creating a brilliant display.

"Return fire?" Picard asked.

"None, sir," Vigo replied.

"Damage?"

"None, sir," Jack Crusher replied. "Their shot was a very low power discharge, and ours was easily deflected by their shields."

"We are being hailed, sir," the communications officer announced.

"On screen," Picard ordered.

As near as Picard could tell, the same Gorn as before snapped onto the screen.

The lizard-being spoke first. "Captain Picard, your challenge has been well met. Now we wish to meet with you."

The Gorn seemed to be waiting for a response. The translator didn't relate any tension in his voice, nothing to indicate that their two ships had just exchanged fire.

Picard took a step closer to the screen. "You honor us with this opportunity to know your people. I would like to prepare a team and meet with you as soon as possible."

The Gorn's face was nearly unreadable. "No, we would like to meet with you alone."

Picard felt the tension on the bridge go back up a notch. He kept his voice measured. "It is our custom to meet unfamiliar races with a small number of individuals trained in different disciplines. It helps us to better communicate our diversity, and to better understand a new people."

The Gorn's face remained impa.s.sive, but its voice went up a notch in volume. "For the purposes of this meeting, others will be unnecessary. You may transport to our ship in exactly one of your hours. We will take you to a place for the meeting. Stand by to receive coordinates."

"Acknowledged," Picard said, as the viewscreen went blank.

Ben Zoma was at his captain's side in a moment. His voice was an insistent whisper, his dark brows meeting over the bridge of his nose.

"Captain, I hope you are not considering going over alone."

Picard sighed inwardly as he stepped toward the turbolift. Ben Zoma followed him.

"Number One, I understand your concern, but it seems that the Gorn have left us with little choice."

Stepping inside the lift, Ben Zoma continued without a pause. "Sir, I can't sanction this sort of action. Besides the obvious danger to yourself, having you in the hands of the Gorn places the entire Federation at risk. We don't know their intentions are peaceful-"

Picard dismissed the concern with a wave of his hand.

"Sir," Ben Zoma went on, "there is precedent here. In our first encounter with the Gorn, they launched a sneak attack on one of our outposts."

"Starfleet Command ruled that they acted in self-defense," the captain countered.

The color rose in Ben Zoma's cheeks, and Picard could hear the arguments forming in his exec's mind, even before he voiced them. "And maybe they did, sir, and maybe their motives are pure here. All I'm saying is that we need to be sure before we allow anyone as important as a starship commander to meet with them alone."

Picard had already considered everything Ben Zoma had said. There was a risk, but the potential benefits were enormous. The Gorn could have destroyed the Stargazer when her shields were down if hostility was their sole intent. No, he wouldn't let concerns over his personal safety destroy this opportunity. When he spoke, his voice was firm.

"Commander, I intend to comply with the Gorn's request. I feel we must seize this opportunity. I will not be responsible for allowing another seventy-five years to pa.s.s before we make contact with these people again."

Picard saw Ben Zoma forming his final pitch. "Captain-"

"Gilaad," Picard interrupted, "I will take every possible precaution to ensure my own safety. That will have to be enough."

The turbolift doors opened to his deck. "For the moment," he continued, "I will be making preparations in my quarters. You have the conn."

As Picard stepped into the corridor, he made a silent vow that he would not allow his next exec to mollycoddle him as Gilaad Ben Zoma did.