The Sky's The Limit Part 25

Historian's note:

This tale is set between the feature films Star Trek: First Contact and Star Trek: Insurrection, sometime after the events of the sixth-season Star Trek: Deep s.p.a.ce Nine episode "In the Pale Moonlight."

GEOFF TROWBRIDGE.

Having spent his childhood in northern Indiana captivated by the episode reruns, movies, and novels of the original Star Trek series, Geoff Trowbridge was initially skeptical about The Next Generation. In fact, he watched the first two seasons only sporadically while spending his nights playing in a big-hair rock band. But after he settled down with his lovely wife, Heidi, the third season reeled him in. Today, he continues trying to indoctrinate his three children-Trevor, Kayla, and Hannah-into fandom, with marginal success.

Geoff's first project with Pocket Books was helping to collate the Timeline data for Voyages of Imagination. Editor Marco Palmieri graciously agreed to consider his ma.n.u.script for "Suicide Note," despite Geoff having already submitted it to Strange New Worlds 10. Even Geoff's most optimistic expectations were surpa.s.sed when both editors simultaneously offered to buy it.

When he isn't writing or working as the Computer Network Manager for the Elkhart Public Library, you'll often find Geoff researching the family genealogy, managing his fantasy football league, scorekeeping at the local Little League, or engaging the local conservatives in spirited debates about politics, religion, and the Great Pumpkin. His latest antics are usually chronicled at http://troll-bridge.livejournal.com.

THE YOUNG GIRL HANDLED THE GARDEN TROWEL WITH THE same delicate artistry of a painter taking a brush to canvas. Holding the flower in place, she swept the soil around it, causing the dirt to cascade into the small divot slowly and evenly, until the bright pink blossom was firmly set into its new home. A warm breeze blew the girl's dark hair into her face, and she reached up to push it back, leaving a dirty smudge upon the tapered point of her ear.

She stood facing the raised stone flowerbeds like a lone sentry guarding a barricade. Yet despite her harsh demeanor, it was with warm gentleness that she padded the soil surrounding the new addition, just the way her father had taught her all those years ago.

Her clearest recollections of her father were of the two of them working in the garden; not this garden but the one at the old house-the home where they had once known happiness as a family. She was only three years old when he was lost to them, so she couldn't always be certain about the accuracy of her memories, but she had no doubts about her father's strong stature and his commanding presence-things that weren't always obvious in the few holo-images that they had retained.

Then one day he was gone.

"The colors of the garden are like a mirror unto our world, Tiaru," her father had told her prior to his departure. "Even our entire galaxy. And every hue must coexist for the mosaic to be complete." Her friends never understood what he had meant, but she believed she did.

But something had gone wrong, and her father had died. And just days later, the men with their grim-looking uniforms and their cold, unfriendly stares started to come to the house. Her mother would always get upset when they showed up; fraught with anxiety, she would tell Tiaru to stay out of sight and say nothing. But they would always just ask a lot of questions, and then they would leave. Eventually she and her mother moved to their current house-to "get away," her mother had said, but the men kept visiting. And her mother remained afraid. And always sad.

Taking a step back, Tiaru looked over the garden as it sprawled out before her, evaluating the new flower's small contribution, and her dour expression softened into a smile of satisfaction. Lost within her thoughts, she was oblivious to the footsteps of the man approaching her.

"Excuse me."

Startled, Tiaru whirled to face him, instinctively brandishing the small shovel as a weapon. But upon seeing the uniformed Starfleet officer, she relaxed slightly and c.o.c.ked her head, her brow furrowed with both puzzlement and curiosity. "You're a Terran, aren't you?" she asked.

"That's right," the man replied with a gentle and disarming smile, apparently not alarmed by her aggressive stance. "My name is Jean-Luc. I am a starship captain for the Federation."

Tiaru straightened her head and dropped her arms to her sides but maintained her quizzical stare. She had seen images of aliens before, but never had she met one in person. The man seemed striking in an exotic sort of way, with his smooth brow, small ears...and weren't Terrans supposed to have hair? "I am Tiaru," she offered. "This is where I live." She pointed along a path of finely hewn cobblestones that invitingly led the way through the colorful gardens to the front door of her home. "Why have you come to Romulus?"

For a moment the man seemed to hesitate, as if her question had caught him off guard. Or perhaps he simply wasn't used to questions from young children. But then he regained his confident air and kneeled down to look her directly in the eyes. "Well, Tiaru," he replied, "you may have heard that a power known as the Dominion has invaded both our quadrants of the galaxy. The Federation and your leaders have joined together, to help drive them back and to keep you safe. My ship was sent to bring a Starfleet admiral to Romulus today. Right now he is meeting with the admirals of your own armies."

Tiaru's eyes widened and her heart jumped with enthusiasm at the mention of the admiralty. "My father was an admiral!" she proudly exclaimed.

"Yes, I know," Jean-Luc replied. "In fact, I once met your father, and I found him to be a man of high principles." He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. "As it so happens, he is the reason I've decided to stop by your home this morning. I don't suppose your mother is here?"

Tiaru couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not wanting to look ridiculous in front of the Starfleet captain, she struggled to keep her enthusiasm under control. "Of course," she replied as calmly as possible. "Follow me and I'll show you in."

The captain stood up and began to follow Tiaru along the walkway.

A thousand thoughts buzzed through her mind, but she hardly knew where to begin. She had heard about the war. Her cla.s.smates clearly believed it was all the Federation's fault; that they had kicked into a tesrat's nest, and now the Romulans had to rush in to save the foolish aliens from being stung to death. But this man did not appear to be a fool. And he had known her father. That had to count for something.

"Have you been to Romulus before?" she called back to him as he lagged a few paces behind her.

"Yes I have," Jean-Luc replied, "but never before did I have the luxury of appreciating its beauty. In fact, your flower gardens are among the loveliest I've seen."

Tiaru's chest swelled with pride. Indeed, this Terran was no fool.

On the heels of the spirited Romulan child, Captain Jean-Luc Picard shielded his eyes from the bright Romulan sun as its rays pierced the rooftop of the house standing before him. Like many homes in the rural outskirts of the capital city, the edifice was not particularly large, the construction was traditional brick and mortar, and the colors were mostly drab shades of gray; nonetheless the architecture possessed a grandiose quality, with tall spires reaching toward the sky and ornate trim embellishing the framework.

The captain inhaled deeply, enjoying the curious fragrances of an unfamiliar world. The oxygen-rich atmosphere had actually made his brisk walk from the public transport station an invigorating experience.

Of course, the inconvenient detour was made necessary only because the local magistrates had refused to allow transport into a residential area. Despite the tenuous alliance, the Romulans' insular nature remained very much in evidence. Current allegiances notwithstanding, Picard knew these were the same people who had recently attempted to conquer Vulcan; the same people who had threatened to destroy the Enterprise countless times...

Tiaru had reached the end of the path and began to bound up the short steps at the front door of her house.

Picard stopped at the base of the steps, unexpectedly gripped by apprehension. He had faced countless touchy situations throughout his years as a Starfleet captain, but never could he recall a circ.u.mstance quite so unfamiliar, or a feeling of such awkward uncertainty.

He had precious little time to come to terms with these fears as the door suddenly slid open, and a middle-aged Romulan woman with a careworn face appeared. Tiaru finished scaling the steps and stood by the woman's side. "Mother, we have a guest!" she said excitedly.

The woman looked down upon the captain, her jaw firmly locked in place. "Yes?" she finally said.

"Ai'lara Jarok?" Picard asked. After waiting for her nod of confirmation, he continued. "Good morning to you. I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Federation of Planets."

"I know who you are," Ai'lara said. "The consulate informed me of your arrival a few moments ago." She looked down at her inquisitive child. "Tiaru, please attend to your studies in your room."

The girl opened her mouth to protest, but a stern look from the woman caused her to reconsider. Her shoulders drooped with disappointment . "Yes, Mother," she said. Obligingly, she turned and retreated into the interior of the home.

"My daughter," Ai'lara explained. "She is precocious and often far too curious for her own good."

"She is a charming little girl," Picard said with complete honesty. Nonetheless, he was grateful for Ai'lara's discretion. His errand was likely to be difficult enough on the mother, let alone its potential impact on the child.

A beat pa.s.sed while the two of them regarded each other in silence, until the captain was unable to delay his mission any longer.

"Lady Ai'lara," Picard said, feeling as though each word was another cautious step through a minefield. "I was with your husband, Admiral Alidar Jarok, in the days leading up to his death eight years ago."

Ai'lara said nothing but continued to stare at him without expression. Picard felt loath to continue, believing that the woman might ask him to leave.

"Come in," Ai'lara finally spoke, turning into the house. Relieved, Picard climbed the steps and followed her through the entrance.

Almost immediately he noted a pleasant gra.s.sy aroma that seemed to emanate from a doorway at the far end of the main corridor. As they walked down the hall toward it, Picard briefly noted the adjoining rooms-a comfortable living area on the left and a practical study on the right. While both appeared clean and accommodating, they were austere and spa.r.s.ely decorated, in marked contrast to the home's exterior.

Ai'lara glanced back over her shoulder. "Can I get you something? I've just made some hvetollh."

Picard searched his memory for names of Romulan cuisine but without success. Based upon his prior experiences, he desperately hoped that she wasn't offering him soup.

Ai'lara noted Picard's puzzlement. "Oh, my apologies. Hvetollh is...a beverage, prepared by filtering hot water through the dried leaves of an rreinnte tree."

Picard smiled. "That sounds wonderful," he said.

Picard sipped his Romulan tea and savored its spicy, nutty flavor, while across the small table with her own cup, Ai'lara watched him intently. The captain's gaze casually wandered about the large room that served as both a kitchen and dining area. The shelves jutting out from the pale yellow walls contained boxes of what he a.s.sumed to be typical Romulan staples as well as stacks of dishes and tableware. On the counter, most of the appliances were recognizable; food preparation was essentially the same no matter which side of the Neutral Zone you were on. But like the rest of the home, the room appeared rather modest-functional but not extravagant.

Setting down his cup, Picard decided to break the silence. "Forgive me," he began, "but I don't know if you're privy to the circ.u.mstances surrounding your husband's defection to the Federation."

"I learned enough," the woman replied with a slight hint of disgust. "The Tal Shiar made sure of that when they debriefed me afterward." She paused momentarily, as her mention of the Romulan intelligence service clearly evoked a sense of dread. "My husband was suffering under a delusion that our military was planning to start a war with your Federation. He fled Romulan s.p.a.ce and encountered your ship, and somehow convinced you to indulge his fantasy. And after he was proved wrong, his life ended while still in your custody."

Picard exhaled deeply and hastened to clarify the events surrounding the death of the Romulan defector. "Ma'am, you must believe me. We did not hold your husband accountable for the incident at Nelvana III or seek any punitive action against him. He took his own life with a felodesine chip, and we were powerless to revive him..."

Ai'lara softly let out a chortle. "Don't worry, Captain," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I don't hold you responsible for his death. Alidar was simply a coward. Your involvement was unfortunate happenstance-"

"Pardon me," Picard said, "but with respect, I cannot begin to imagine the sense of loss he must have felt, believing that he was forever separated from his family and his home. Under the circ.u.mstances, it wasn't an act of cowardice that he chose to end his suffering."

Ai'lara blinked at him. "You misunderstand, Captain. Ending his life was not the cowardly act. Suicide was the most honorable means of atonement for his disloyalty."

With his cup at his lips, Picard frowned, beginning to appreciate the true breadth of the cultural gulf that separated him from his host.

"Alidar's weakness was his irrational and unrealistic pursuit of pacifism," Ai'lara continued. "You know the dangers we face in this galaxy, Captain. It was only a matter of time before he ensured his own downfall." She sighed and grew more contemplative as she sipped her own tea. "It is true that I loved my husband. Not long ago he was a powerful leader, yet gentle and kind to those he held dear. But at the end, his misguided idealist philosophy was a threat to the entire Romulan Empire."

Picard shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wondering if this personal visit had not been a huge mistake. "Of course," he said, "I understand that Alidar's ideas may have seemed outlandish. But he was unfairly misled into believing that a true threat to galactic peace was at hand. And his bravery-"

"Please, Captain," Ai'lara interrupted. "You can't possibly understand what we have endured due to his 'outlandish ideas.' Simply put, we are the family of a traitor. Do you realize, Captain, that most families of dissidents tend to disappear quietly? Dozens of times we were visited by a high-ranking agent of the Tal Shiar, always so polite, always asking cloyingly pleasant questions...always leaving us terrified that this visit would be the last before they hauled us away as coconspirators.

"For whatever reason, they've allowed us to live, but the rest of our lives will be spent under a cloud of constant suspicion. We had no choice but to sell our home on the seafront, release our servants, and move to a district where at least my daughter no longer suffers the insults from her peers."

She stared down into her cup, looking as if the conversation were draining all the strength from her. "We left everything from our former life...except for some sprouts to regrow the plants that surround our front walkway. Alidar always loved those plants..." As her voice trailed off, for a long moment her mind appeared to be in another place, at a simpler time. Finally she looked up, her lips pressed into a tight smile. "Truly, Captain, this is a pointless discussion, so let us dispense with the pleasantries. Why are you here?"

Though humbled by the brusqueness of her question, Picard was grateful for the opportunity simply to fulfill his obligation and put this debacle behind him. He reached into his jacket and retrieved a small padd. "Your husband left a message to you and your daughter," he explained, setting it on the table between them. "Due to obvious circ.u.mstances, we were unable to deliver it properly until now."

Ai'lara regarded the small device with obvious disdain. "A suicide note?" she said with cold detachment.

"I suppose it is," Picard said.

Tiaru stepped through the doorway at the far end of the dining area. "A message from Father?" she asked, ignoring her mother's icy stare. "What does it say?"

"I don't know," Picard replied. "It seems to be biometrically encoded so that only your mother can unlock it, and he left instructions to deliver it in strict confidentiality. But even so, I never felt that it was my place to view it."

The girl approached them, her eyes focused upon the curious gadget. Slipping into the open chair at the end of the table, she reached out for it.

"Tiaru!" her mother chastised her. "You don't know how to operate it. Leave it alone."

Tiaru retracted her arms but appeared unfazed by her mother's reproach. She looked up at Picard. "Captain, sir?" she said. "Do you believe my father betrayed the empire?"

Picard froze. In his mind, he heard the voice of Admiral Jarok in the captain's ready room eight years earlier: She will grow up believing her father was a traitor. How was he to answer? The question was difficult enough without having to gain the understanding of a child.

Thankfully, Ai'lara intervened. "That is enough," she said sternly. "Return to your room at once."

"I'm sorry, Mother, but I cannot," the girl boldly replied. "I must hear the captain's answer."

Inwardly, Picard winced at the girl's dogged persistence. Outwardly, he folded his hands and tilted his head toward her. "Tiaru," he said, hoping not to sound patronizing. "Your father was faced with a very difficult decision. But in the end, I believe he did what he felt in his heart was the right thing."

"Wonderful," Ai'lara said, rolling her eyes. "An answer grounded in safe human moral relativism."

The hint of a scowl creased Picard's brow. "Do you believe humans are immoral?"

"The need for a stable and honorable society dictates morality!" Ai'lara said, raising her voice. "Your human culture promotes anarchy over security. Do you honestly believe that an empire can survive if every leader is free to follow his own fallible conscience?"

Picard tilted up his chin ever so slightly. "Perhaps it is the strength of our 'human' conscience that enables us to survive."

Ai'lara lifted her cup and rose from the table. "Well then...I trust Alidar was right at home aboard your ship." She walked back toward the replicator.

"On the contrary," Picard said. "His own home was nearly all he would speak of."

Ai'lara tossed the cup into the recycling unit with a loud crash and remained there, with her back turned toward her guest. "He should have thought of that before he left us."

Picard thought he could detect the faintest crack in her voice. Hoping to defuse a volatile situation, he softened his tone. "Obviously this is not just about your husband's loyalties to the empire," he said gently. "You've been abandoned-left alone to raise a daughter."

His words seemed to pierce her chest as she momentarily stiffened, then slumped forward. She glanced over at Tiaru, still seated and watching the exchange with wide-eyed fascination, and the anger in the woman's eyes dissolved into mere melancholy. "My daughter," she said. "She is the end of a tainted family line. No man will take a wife whose honor has been shattered."

"I don't need a mate," the girl stated confidently.

"One day you will wish to begin a family," her mother insisted, returning to the table to stand beside her daughter. "But we are without mnhei'sahe-we have no honor."

"You don't know my wishes!" the girl nearly shouted. "We don't ever talk about them. We never speak of any of this! He was my father...and you won't tell me anything about him."

Ai'lara opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came forth. Her face no longer conveyed any emotion but pain.

"I know about honor," Tiaru continued. "The youth inst.i.tute taught us that if you remain true to yourself, no one can take your honor from you!"

"Oh, Tiaru...," Ai'lara whispered. She reached out and ran her fingers through her daughter's hair.

Now distinctly uncomfortable, Picard cleared his throat. "I believe I should let myself out."

"No," Ai'lara said with sudden a.s.sertiveness. "You must tell me why."

"I beg your pardon?" Picard replied.

She reached for the padd on the table. "Why he would force us to relive his greatest failure!" Her hands shook as she picked it up, and for a moment Picard wondered if she might simply hurl it across the room.

"Lady Ai'lara," Picard spoke calmly, looking directly into her eyes. "It seems clear that the scars you've suffered have not entirely healed. Perhaps your husband knew this was the only way to bring you a sense of closure."

Ai'lara stared back at him. She said nothing but slowly regained her composure. Her breathing steadied as she absently ran her finger along the edge of the padd's display. Then, with a click of her tongue, she gently set down the device, seated herself, and keyed it to begin playback.

The small screen flickered to life and the image of Alidar Jarok appeared upon it. Picard leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the admiral's face, triggering his memory-recollections of the confrontation in the Neutral Zone, of the manner in which Jarok had been deceived, and of the last phrase Picard had heard uttered from Jarok's lips: I did it for nothing.

But surprisingly, within the solitude of his final moments in his cabin aboard the Enterprise, the admiral had apparently found cause to reconsider. On the screen was not a man in the throes of despair, bereft of any remaining purpose in life. Instead, upon Jarok's visage was the same grim determination the man had displayed while imploring the Enterprise crew to act upon his information, seemingly unaffected by the knowledge that his efforts had been in vain.

His message began.

"To my beloved wife and daughter, "I cannot know under what circ.u.mstances this message will reach you. If it is the result of formalized relations between our people and the Federation, then one of my many dreams will have been realized. In any event, I know that you will face a future filled with both trepidation and optimism, with new enemies and new allies. And as that future unfolds, my actions, for better or for worse, will be viewed through the lens of history either as the recklessness of a foolhardy romantic or as the genius of a progressive visionary. I regret that I will not survive to know which is my legacy.

"To my beautiful Tiaru...I still remember, like it was yesterday, holding a tiny babe in my arms, at dusk beneath the glow of Remus, and swearing to protect you from any harm. And I have kept my oath to the best of my ability. Knowing that I shall not see you again is a burden that I cannot bear. But I know that you will grow to be n.o.ble and strong. It is in your blood.