Chapter 1
Earth-June 2367
His hand shook as he picked up the stylus, leaning on the kitchen table. His breath quickened. It was happening again—the discomfort, the dizziness, the now unmistakable and frightening fading of his vision.
Tears of frustration and sadness ran down his cheeks, and he gritted his teeth as he gripped the writing instrument. All too distant were the days when he could successfully use a touch pad, without his fingers slipping, making his typing unintelligible. And his handwriting wasn't much better, but it didn't matter; he had to get the words out somehow.
"My dearest Beverly—it has been several months since we last spoke, and of all things, of all people, you are never far from my mind—such as it is. I know now even in my…debilitated state, that I should have been honest with you about everything—"
"Ah…ah," he dropped the stylus, and watched as his hands began again to phase out of existence. As with all of these episodes, he felt as though his heart was going to burst it had begun beating so quickly. It was painful, it was frightening, but most importantly, soon enough he believed it would be ending; all of it would end. He blinked a few times and gradually his hands became visible again and his heart rate slowed. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the stylus again and placed it on the writing pad.
"—everything that I feel for you. I understand if you have no room in your heart to forgive me. Perhaps things could have been different, if I had only had more courage. But now something terrible is happening to me, and I am afraid I do not have much longer—" He looked up, surprised by the sound of his front door opening. Dammit, he must have forgotten to set the security controls again.
His lip trembled, as the visitor entered without permission, greeting him with a slow and slimy smile. In his prime he would have wiped that smile off the visitor's face. But he wasn't in his prime. He could hardly talk now, and at the moment, he doubted if he could walk, let alone present a physical threat to anyone.
He struggled to get up from the table, and then fell back into his chair clumsily, which only caused the intruder to laugh. "B-B-Bok…" he forced the words out.
"Yes, Picard," Daimon Bok sneered, leaning down over him. "You remember me. That is good. It is fitting that you should leave this world knowing that I am the one responsible for your loss, your humiliation…." The Ferengi pulled out a standard type I phaser from underneath his coat and placed it down on the table. "Now with this knowledge you will prepare to leave this world forever…."
Starfleet Command-Three days later…
"Commander Riker…you testified previously that you never saw the disturbance described in Captain Picard's subsequent log records." The four Admirals stared down at him from the bench with a collectively piercing gaze.
Will Riker had been here before, and what he was about to say, he had more or less said before—four months earlier to be exact. He shifted in his seat from the seemingly unending irritation of it all. He took a deep steadying breath. "Yes, that is correct."
"And you also testified that you believed that this so-called disturbance in fact never existed."
Riker clasped his hands together and lifted his chin. "I know that whatever it was Captain Picard thought he saw that day—he believed it to be real."
"But it wasn't real, was it, Commander?"
Riker bent his head and rubbed his forehead. He pressed his lips together and leveled his gaze at his inquisitors. "There was nothing on the sensors."
"For an officer which such a promising career ahead of him, it puzzles us all, Commander Riker why you persist in continuing to protect a disgraced Captain."
"He'd do the same for me."
"But he didn't protect you did he, Commander? Instead he prevented you from stopping him. He took steps which caused a warp core breach, ultimately resulting in the destruction of the star drive section of the Enterprise."
Riker flexed his hands into fists holding them tightly against his knees. "No one died. Those injured were healed…" he said dully. Everyone except for Picard, he thought.
"But the damage was done, Commander. The Enterprise has now been decommissioned, it's crew has split up."
Riker raised his head to gaze at them squarely. "Why have you called me here today? We've been over all of this before."
"Certain events have now occurred, which may relate to the incident and now require our immediate attention," said one admiral. "One of these events, regrettably is beyond our control…and involves former Captain Picard."
Riker stiffened. He hadn't spoken to Picard in at least three months. In fact, no one from the Enterprise crew had successfully spoken to Picard in as much time. After he had been all but driven out of Starfleet in disgrace, he had retired quietly and retreated to a modest home in Hawaii, preferring to remain alone and elusive. Riker had been busy preparing for his next assignment and had been putting the unsettling events behind him as much as possible. His immediate reaction to hearing about Picard at all caused him to feel guilty. "What do you mean?"
"When is the last time you spoke with Picard?"
"Three months or so," Riker admitted. He leaned forward intently. "What has happened?"
"A distress signal was issued from Picard's home three days ago. A Starfleet shuttle reported immediately, and an investigation was quickly conducted at the scene."
Riker shook his head feeling dazed. "Scene…investigation?" He stood up quickly. "I've been out of touch. I should go to him now."
"Commander, we are sorry. But Captain Picard is dead. And all evidence points to suicide."
