The Sky's The Limit Part 26

"I don't know if you will ever understand the reasons why I had to leave you, or the motives of the men whose lies drove me to do so. But if nothing else, you and your generation must understand the awesome and dangerous power of fear.

"It is fear that sows the distrust between our worlds and those of the Federation. It was fear that culminated in the bloodshed at Cheron during our war with Earth, long before you were born. It was fear that prompted our own leaders to use deception to divide my loyalties between conscience and empire. And it is fear that will destroy our people if your generation fails to overcome it.

"As fear drives our hatred and the building of our war machine, we consume the resources that could feed and clothe our people, we misuse the wisdom of our scientists and the labors of our industries, and we extinguish the light from our dreams of the future. There is no strength in fear. Strength arises from the courage to cast off fear's oppressive chains and gives you the power to build a safer, more secure galaxy using instruments of peace."

Jarok paused for a moment and raised a cup of water to his lips. Picard marveled at the stoicism of the man who was basically writing his epitaph as he prepared to end his own life. The admiral's wife and daughter sat silently staring at the screen, their faces revealing no emotion. Jarok continued.

"My dearest wife, "You must think me a coward...at the very least, a deserter of our family; at worst, a traitor to our people. I am both, and yet I am neither. My loyalty to our house and to Romulus has always been unimpeachable. But my responsibility to safeguard our civilization from those who would destroy it out of senseless pride transcends any duty to an inst.i.tution or to an individual. My honor is intact.

"I know the means whereby the Praetorate achieves their ends. They will manufacture further 'evidence' of enemy aggression to promote the imperialist doctrine. They will force out other men of character and fort.i.tude who believe as I do. And in the end, they will collapse under the weight of their own deceptions and paranoia, and bring all of the empire down with them."

Again he paused and for a moment seemed unsure if he should continue. Then his voice lowered and took on a deadly serious tone.

"Rest a.s.sured that I am not alone in my endeavors. About a year ago, our intelligence teams began to collate data from our most distant listening posts, and they have determined that a race of powerful cyborg creatures in the Delta Quadrant are moving this way, destroying and a.s.similating everything in their path, representing the greatest single threat we have yet faced in our galaxy. Yet the Continuing Committee refuses to resolve petty differences with those who should be our allies in an ultimate battle for galactic survival.

"Therefore, a number of us who are like-minded have networked together, prepared to share information with other powers in the region, should it become necessary for survival in this or any other catastrophic scenario. My contact is a good man-a general of the Tal Shiar by the name of Koval, and he has pledged to discreetly look after you and Tiaru in my absence."

Ai'lara gasped, her eyes wide open with shock, suggesting that the name was quite familiar to her.

"My love...Since you have received this message, I trust that you are in contact with someone from the Federation. I am attaching data regarding encrypted frequencies that Starfleet may use to contact Koval. I cannot offer this to Captain Picard now-I fear that I have lost his trust and confidence. So for the sake of our people, I implore you to see this information safely delivered to those across the borders who can best help us."

Observing the data on the screen, Picard committed the frequencies and decryption codes to memory as Ai'lara sat nearby, still stunned, her mouth slightly open. "Koval," she whispered to herself. "All this time, he was protecting us..."

Her late husband continued: "For my part, I've done what I can to ensure that our safety continues to be protected. I was deceived, yes...but I believe my defection may nonetheless be a first step to a better understanding between our peoples. But it is not my place to see it through. I am neither an emissary nor a diplomat. I am a relic who has denied his own future, and therefore my life must end here."

Jarok closed his eyes and took a deep breath, evincing a sense of peace with his fate.

"My love for both of you runs deeper than the Apnex Sea. Perhaps not this day, but one day, you will understand the depth of my sacrifice and my resolve to secure your future and that of our grandchildren. And perhaps then, I will have your forgiveness. Do not forget, and do not capitulate to those who sow fear and reap despair. The power of hope is yours now. Good-bye."

The screen slowly faded to black, and a suffocating silence filled the room. For the first time, Picard noticed the whisper of a breeze blowing through an open window and the tick of an archaic time-keeping device on the wall. He did not wish to interrupt the stillness, but words somehow escaped his lips. "He held strong to his convictions," he murmured, "even after losing everything he held dear. What an amazing man."

Tiaru quietly sucked in her breath and blinked rapidly, shedding the moisture that had welled up in the corners of her eyes. Ai'lara sat motionless, continuing to focus upon the padd's darkened display.

Picard sat with his head slightly bowed for what seemed like hours, until he felt sure that his presence was no longer appropriate. Slowly, he set down his cup, pushed his chair from the table, and stood, displaying all the poise he could muster. "I am very sorry for your loss," he said, and with that, he turned and marched resolutely toward the door.

"Captain," Ai'lara said, prompting him to stop at the doorway and turn around. "Until today, I had forgotten what I had lost. Thank you."

"Jolan'tru," Picard said with a nod. Then he exited the home and the door closed behind him.

He stood there on the doorstep for several minutes as the afterimage of Jarok's resolute countenance continued to haunt him, grappling with the unexpected shock of receiving fortuitous and possibly invaluable information from a man long deceased, speaking all but from another era.

Eight years earlier, this man died aboard his ship while attempting to bring information to the Federation. Now the man's last wish was known: to bring another pragmatic government official-a man already leading a duplicitous existence-under the shadowy and dangerous cloak of espionage.

But in the intervening years, fate had brought about a most improbable alliance as the two galactic powers shared the fight against a seemingly implacable enemy. And as allies, the two governments could not simply rely upon secret government operatives for intelligence sharing; their exposure could undermine everything they had gained, and lives could be lost for lack of trust. The captain was not about to allow additional blood to stain his hands.

He surveyed the landscape spread out before him. The sun was now higher in the sky, blanketing the landscape with comforting warmth. Along the horizon, the towers of the nearby city punctuated the skyline, and the splendor of the distant mountain ranges provided a powerful, majestic backdrop. Down the street at the end of the walkway, Picard observed the bustle of people moving about their daily tasks, oblivious to the drums of war beating in distant star systems. From somewhere nearby, he heard the joyful sounds of children playing.

As Picard meandered back down the path, flanked by the flowerbeds that teemed with exotic plantlife, his fleeting serenity was pierced by the chirp of his combadge.

"Riker to Picard."

Picard tapped the insignia on his chest. "Go ahead, Number One."

"Sir, Admiral Dougherty has reported in. He's finished his meeting at Galae Command, and he'll be beaming aboard in about ten minutes."

"Acknowledged. Any word from the admiral on the progress of the talks?"

The pause on the other end of the transmission lasted mere seconds yet spoke volumes with distressing clarity. "Well, sir," Riker responded, "he's not particularly pleased. It seems at this point the Romulans are unwilling to share enough useful intelligence to effectively coordinate our initial campaigns against the Dominion."

The captain made no attempt to hide the disappointment in his voice. "That's unfortunate, Will. Inform the admiral that I'm on my way to the station now..." Feeling a slight tug on his arm, he stopped and gently removed one of the plants' long tendrils that had snagged upon the fabric of his uniform.

Picard stroked the rough filaments on the tip of the appendage as his eyes drifted over the strangely alien and radically variant species of flora he had pa.s.sed along the path, all peacefully coexisting in a soothing panorama. Golden, crimson, and violet flowers burst out from a ma.s.s of tentaclelike green sprouts-some long and spindly, others bloated and bedraggled, and all seemingly reaching out to him.

Eventually his gaze had retraced his steps back to the house, where behind the large oval-shaped front window, enveloped in a translucent glare from the sun's reflected rays, stood the lone figure of Tiaru.

She had regained her composure, her greenish bloodshot eyes fixated upon him, providing a lens into a wisdom that belied her age. And within those eyes, Picard could plainly see the very hope that he himself so desperately sought.

"Anything else, Captain?"

Yes...His duty was clear, as was his obligation to spread the seeds that Jarok had sown. Perhaps in time, they would blossom into a peaceful future for both the Federation and the Romulan Empire. And perhaps in peace, they would one day discover the level of trust that Jarok had known.

"Number One...What information do we have on a Romulan government official by the name of Koval?"

"Stand by...Koval...Seems that he was just promoted to vice chairman of the Tal Shiar, the position formerly held by Senator Vreenak."

"Arrange a meeting with the admiral once we're both back aboard. I have some information he may find useful."

"Aye, Captain."

"Picard out."

A smile and a nod toward the young girl at the window sealed his unspoken covenant with her. Picard released the tendril, then turned and walked on.

Four Lights Keith R.A. DeCandido

Historian's note:

This tale is set between events of the feature films Star Trek: Insurrection and Star Trek Nemesis, several weeks prior to the seventh-season Star Trek: Deep s.p.a.ce Nine episode "Field of Fire."

KEITH R.A. DECANDIDO.

"Four Lights" is one of three contributions Keith R.A. DeCandido is making to the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of Star Trek: The Next Generation. The other two are the novel Q&A, which the author describes as the ultimate Q story, one of the novels that carries the Enterprise-E's story forward after the feature film Star Trek Nemesis; and the eBook Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment, the final installment of the six-eBook miniseries Slings and Arrows, which chronicles the first year of the Enterprise-E's existence leading up to the film Star Trek: First Contact, due in spring 2008. Through the end of 2007, Keith has written thirteen novels, one no-vella, six short stories, ten eBooks, and one comic book miniseries in the Star Trek universe, with much more on the way, starting with the Klingon Empire novel A Burning House in early 2008. He's also written in the worlds of the TV shows Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Xena, Young Hercules, Farscape, and Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda, the games World of Warcraft, Resident Evil, Command and Conquer, and StarCraft, and his own universe, seen in the 2004 novel Dragon Precinct and several short stories. Keith is also the editor in charge of the monthly Star Trek eBook line and has edited dozens of anthologies, among them Star Trek: Tales of the Dominion War, Star Trek: Tales from the Captain's Table, and the forthcoming Doctor Who: Short Trips: The Quality of Leadership. Find out less at Keith's Web site at www.DeCandido.net, read his inane ramblings at kradical.livejournal.com, or just e-mail him your raspberries directly at

I WATCHED THE GRISSOM DIE.

I never used to anthropomorphize starships that way. I used to find the human tendency to give vessels a personality to be suspect, and possibly dangerous. I've lost two commands-the Stargazer at Maxia Zeta and the EnterpriseD at Veridian III-and I weathered those ships' losses primarily because I viewed them solely as objects.

Since the commencement of the Dominion War over a year ago, however, I'd seen so many ships destroyed, seen so many proud Starfleet vessels reduced to debris or less. You would think that multiple exposure to such would have inured me, made me view them even more as things than living creatures, but I found that I felt the loss of the ships more keenly than ever before.

Perhaps it was by way of avoiding feeling the loss of sentient life. The Grissom's crew complement was one thousand two hundred and fifty. Easier to lament the loss of a single ship than over a thousand lives.

And perhaps that feeling was due to helplessness. The Grissom was one of ten allied ships at Ricktor Prime-six Starfleet ships, including my own Enterprise-E, and four Klingon Defense Force vessels-against four Jem'Hadar attack ships and two Carda.s.sian Galor-cla.s.s cruisers. Numerically, the odds would be in our favor, but the Jem'Hadar did not require numbers to have an advantage. Both sides lost one ship each at the start of the battle: one of the Galors and the U.S.S. Winchester destroyed each other.

We were likewise unable to save the Grissom, which now hung dead in s.p.a.ce, as we were too busy coming to the aid of the U.S.S. Christopher. My chair vibrated beneath me as the Enterprise took fire from the remaining Galor, the Elokar, which was trying to send the Christopher to the same fate as the Grissom.

Will Riker, my first officer, was directing the battle. To our tactical officer, Lieutenant Daniels, he said, "Full torpedo spread to their engines on my mark."

"Aye, sir."

"Ensign Perim," he said to the conn officer, "change course to 197 mark 5, but at full impulse." After a second, "Mark!"

I nodded my approval of Will's plan. The Enterprise had been at one-eighth impulse, and the sudden burst of speed would catch the Carda.s.sians off guard. It also gave Daniels only a slim window of opportunity to fire on the Elokar. Of the spread of six quantum torpedoes, two missed their mark. However, the other four struck, the detonations flowering across the Carda.s.sian cruiser.

From the operations station, Data reported calmly, "The Elokar has suffered catastrophic engine damage. Their warp core will breach in seven minutes."

Will got up from his seat to my right and walked around to the tactical station behind him. Standing next to Daniels, he said, "Ready tractor beam-as soon as the Carda.s.sians eject the core, lock onto it and send it right at the Jem'Hadar."

I added, "Mister Data, alert the other vessels-particularly the Klingons-of that tactic."

Data nodded and said, again calmly, "Aye, sir." Not for the first time, I envied him his ability to switch his emotions off at will.

Data continued: "U.S.S. Vaklar and I.K.S. Kortir closing in on third Jem'Hadar vessel. I.K.S. Worvig and U.S.S. T'Mala engaging second Jem'Hadar vessel. I.K.S. Ya'Vang taking heavy damage from fourth Jem'Hadar vessel."

"The Carda.s.sians have ejected the core," Daniels said from behind me. "Engaging tractor beam."

"First Jem'Hadar vessel coming about," Data said. That was the one that destroyed the Grissom.

"Do it, Mr. Daniels," Will said.

"Aye, sir."

The blue tractor beam engulfed the Elokar's critical warp core and redirected it toward the Grissom's murderer.

It would seem I was indeed anthropomorphizing.

Even as the Elokar's warp core destroyed one Jem'Hadar ship, two others were taking considerable damage from the four allied vessels.

But then they changed course.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I rose to my feet and said, "Data, warn them, they're about to-"

But it was too late.

The Jem'Hadar introduced themselves to the Alpha Quadrant five years ago in a suicide run against the U.S.S. Odyssey, a sister ship to the EnterpriseD. These two Dominion attack ships did likewise, taking out three of their enemy at the same time. Only the T'Mala recognized the tactic as I did and veered away in time, though they took on considerable hull damage from the explosion.

After a moment of quiet on the bridge, Data spoke. "The Ya'Vang's impulse engines are off-line and their warp drive has engaged emergency shutdown. They are-"

My second officer cut off his report when the final Jem'Hadar ship went to warp.

"Ensign, heading?" I asked Perim.

"Their heading is 111 mark 19-back to Dominion territory."

Will came back around to the center of the bridge to stand next to me. "Do we pursue?"

I hesitated. It was tempting to hunt them down, but nothing would be gained. The Dominion's attempt to take Ricktor Prime had failed. Our enemy would gain no new intelligence from this endeavor-all the ships involved were surely already known to the Dominion, and no particularly inventive tactics were used-so we had nothing to lose by allowing one ship full of Jem'Hadar to escape.

Besides, even if we did pursue them and destroy them, the Dominion would simply make more.

Staring at the screen, I saw only death. The debris clouds of vaporized vessels, the dimmed lights of the ships that were damaged. The only real survivor was the planet below: Ricktor Prime, the Zaldan colony we were trying to protect.

Daniels said, "Incoming hail from the T'Mala, sir-it's Captain Dell'Orso."

I nodded and sat back down in my chair; Will did likewise next to me. "On screen, Lieutenant."

The scene of death was replaced by the haggard image of Kirsten Dell'Orso. "Looks like we're the last ones standing, Captain Picard."

"Indeed. Do you require any a.s.sistance?"

Batting a lock of dark hair out of her sweat-streaked face, Dell'Orso said, "We're fine, but we're also picking up three escape pods near the debris of the Grissom."

"Confirmed," Data said. "Reading six life signs."

"My chief engineer's having a fit as it is. I'd rather not add maneuvering in that mess to her worries."

"Of course. We'll take care of it, Captain."

To the conn, Will said, "Ensign Perim, set a course for those pods. Lieutenant Daniels, ready tractor beam."

"Speaking of tractor beams," Dell'Orso said, "that was a nice trick you pulled with the Elokar's warp core." She let out a breath, puffing her cheeks. "I'm really glad you guys were a.s.signed to this detail. Without you, the Zaldans'd be brushing up on the Vorta's language by now. Thanks to you, we won."

I thought about six people who were the only survivors of a ship of twelve hundred, and five other ships that didn't have as many as six survivors, and I shook my head.

"This does not feel like victory."

The day after what was already being referred to as the Battle of Ricktor Prime, I stood outside Deanna's office, feeling a fool.

The bridge of the Enterprise had not felt right of late. That was due in part to two who were missing. One was Worf, now serving on Deep s.p.a.ce 9. Still, Padraig Daniels had been serving more than adequately at tactical since the Enterprise-E's earliest days.

However, it was the other person missing who concerned me at present: Counselor Deanna Troi. She still served on the Enterprise, of course, but she spent comparatively little time by my side on the bridge. Instead, her presence was required most often either in her office or in sickbay with Doctor Crusher, tending to those who needed her aid.

The doors parted, and Ensign Lobato, one of Commander La Forge's engineers, came out. She nodded, said, "Captain," and continued down the corridor.