Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no profit made.

Author's note 1: TNG readers please note: My writing up till now has been set in the Star Trek: Enterprise universe. This story should hopefully stand up in its own right, but anyone interested in reading the precursor to it can find it among my other works.

Author's note 2: As this is my first foray into TNG, of which I haven't even watched every episode, I hope any TNG readers will excuse any errors in characterisation as beginner's inexpertise.

Author's note 3: The title is the same as that of an actual TNG episode (I only found this out 48 hours ago!) but it bears absolutely no other relation to that episode or the storyline it contains.

Dedicated to Ken, for whose patience and advice I am sincerely grateful.

The face of duty is occasionally grim.

For much of the time, however, it is simply tedious, and it was this face that Captain Jean-Luc Picard was seeing as he sat at his desk that morning going through the daily reports.

Viewing reports is one of the basic functions of a ship's captain's life. He was perfectly well aware of that fact – and usually quite resigned to it, if seldom actually enthusiastic. He applied to it his usual stern discipline, and that got the job done. That, after all, was what mattered.

It would probably have been easier had he not been aware of the presence in his inbox of the latest journal from the senior archaeological team studying the history of Tagus III. It was a subject dear to his heart; and although to date the Taguans seemed determined to maintain their refusal to allow foreign visitors to partake in any of the ongoing excavations, still the native archaeologists occasionally released teasing fragments of their discoveries to whet the appetite of those eager to learn more.

He had made the mistake of allowing himself just the smallest glance at the header of the journal when he logged on to his computer that morning. Unfortunately, rather than being the dry summary of the contents that usually appeared, it had hinted – yes, definitely more than hinted – that there had been thrilling revelations from Tagus III.

The temptation to open it immediately had been almost irresistible. It had taken all the discipline in his soul to turn away and navigate to the waiting ship's reports instead; and to have to plough through the minutiae of the latest requirements to be added to the revictualling schedule on their next visit to a starbase instead of feasting his eyes on the newest relics to have emerged from the current investigation was really rather hard.

So it was not altogether unwelcome when a call from the Bridge interrupted his dutiful perusal. "Riker to the Captain."

"What is it, Number One?"

"Our long-range sensors have discovered a planet with a malfunctioning satellite, sir."

Jean-Luc frowned. There must be more to it than that. However, at least it would get him away from the revictualling reports for a while.

He rose from his desk, automatically tugged his uniform into order, and walked out on to the Bridge.

Data was at the helm, and turned to him as he entered. Evidently the android perceived the slightly perplexed quality of his captain's interrogative look, for the explanation was not slow in coming.

"There is no record of the planet being inhabited, sir, or indeed any mention of it at all in any of the Federation records. I am at a loss to explain why it should have an artificial satellite in orbit, but whatever the reason, I estimate that within six hours and seventeen minutes the satellite will enter the planet's atmosphere and be destroyed."

"Has the system been mapped?"

Data's gaze unfocused for a fraction of a second while he consulted his memory storage. "That area of the quadrant is largely deserted, sir, but there are records going back to early Starfleet exploration. Certain sections of these appear to have been deliberately erased."

"'Erased'?" Will was on to the word like a terrier.

"Yes, sir."

Enterprise's First Officer frowned, and Jean-Luc mirrored the expression.

It was a fairly small affair. An unknown satellite crashing on an unknown and uninhabited planet was hardly the stuff of world-shattering events. Nevertheless...

...Revictualling reports were not stupendously interesting.

"Set a course, Mister Data."

Lieutenant Worf was in his usual place at the Security Station. He looked as though he might be about to speak, and the captain paused before taking his seat, but the Klingon evidently decided that whatever remark he had been about to make was inconsequential after all, and the moment passed.

On the viewscreen the starscape shifted and elongated into streaks once more as Enterprise changed course and set off to investigate.

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