Chapter 1
Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat in the central seat upon the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D, eying the screen carefully, studying his counterparts therein. The negotiations had gone on for a longer length of time than had been previously expected. Both sides had refused to give even an inch, claiming that theirs was the right of things.
The diplomat on the left moved about upon four sets of short, insect-like legs, possessed two pairs of longer arms, likewise very insectoid in appearance. It's total length was nearly ten feet, and it stood a good seven feet tall, covered in hard armored plating of a deep rusty red color, obviously accustomed to a more… forceful… type of negotiations. Those same plates bore the scars of years of aggressive diplomacy, even through the ritual, formal, iridescent green body painting that it so proudly displayed, covering it from the top of it's head down, it's back, and to mid-body, in intricate designs that spoke of hours of painting. The clear multi-faceted eyes were glued to the view screen, changing to a shade of blue that Picard knew from studying the species, meant that it was becoming more agitated and frustrated.
The eyes, that is the way to tell their emotional state. Their body language will not give anything away, as they are accustomed to staying perfectly still for days on end while stalking prey. Red is contentment for them; blue, agitation; yellow, anger; green, I'll leave that one alone, Picard thought to himself, schooling his facial expression before he lost his composure in front of the diplomats in front of him, which could prove disastrous at the moment. I need to get the two species to agree to work together, here; yet, neither one wants to see the other side of things. Besides, it isn't as if they would be dealing with each other all that much.
He turned his attention to the other delegate on the split screen, contemplating what he had read of it's species, stifling a sigh that nearly escaped his lips. The entity on the right-hand partition of the screen was of clearly aquatic descent, with a row of gills running down the side of it's head, along the short neck. A tall frill, tipped with a pair of sharp, poisoned spines, ran the length of it's exposed upper body. The fore-limbs ended with a pair of 'hand's' that contained three digits that folded against another two, giving the water predator the ability to grasp it's prey tightly, also allowing them to develop a sophisticated society, based on the strongest leading them. As the delegate spoke, large teeth would become visible within it's equally large mouth.
This species is even harder to read. Their eyes are jet-black, showing no emotion whatsoever, their body language almost nonexistent; the only way to tell anything about them is to watch that frill along their spine. When threatened or upset, they raise it, otherwise it stays laying flat against their back. When angered, the spines are brought forward and extended. Also, the first digit on each hand has a hollow claw, with a poison gland at it's base, used in battle – both ritual and for survival. Actually, they resemble an ancient Earth legend, something called mermen, in appearance. Interesting to find a species out here that so closely resembles a creature from our own legends.
With an effort, he brought his attention back to the task at hand.
"Ambassadors, please, there is no need for the accusations and discourteous language. We are all here to try to settle this argument in a peaceful manner. The way that I see things, your species," and he gestured to the aquatic one, "is interested in the vast waterways of the fourth world, as well as those on the moon of the fifth; yours, ambassador," he turned his eyes to the insect-like diplomat, "would like to take advantage of the land masses of the same moon, as well as the more arid, desert-like fifth planet itself. Am I correct in my understanding of the situation at hand?"
A series of clicks and chirrups was picked up by the audio speakers, which the computer ran through the universal translator, from one diplomat, as well as the whistles and sounds emanating from the aquatic one, likewise being translated – both to the affirmative. This was part of the delay in the negotiations, the time required for the translator to do it's job.
"Then, may I inquire as to the problem? We have been here, listening to both sides' grievances about the other, for two days; however, I have heard no reason why the two of your species could not share the moon or the solar system. Yours is an aquatic race, and not suited for terrestrial endeavors, while you are the opposite, interested in the land, but not really in the watery aspect of the moon. It seems to me that the only place that your two peoples would have any contact would be upon the moon, and at that, only at water's edge. Yes, both of your peoples are predatory races, but you would be hunting and occupying different parts of the planets."
Both ambassadors looked at the screen, at the balding captain that was sent to facilitate an agreement between them, taken off guard. Apparently, this logic did not occur to them, both determined to be the masters of the new planets and solar system, not really thinking of the simple solution of sharing, something that was a foreign concept to the two species that had risen to be the apex species of their own systems, never having to share their power or territory. Now, they would have to share a system and it's planets, however, they didn't think about what parts of the planets that they would each be interested in.
Two sets of mouths opened and closed simultaneously, attempting to refute the simple logic presented them, yet no sound was uttered. Picard smiled tightly at the change in behavior between the two quarreling diplomats, and noticed the signs of embarrassment upon the two – the merman, for lack of better term (they had not translated the species' name) was actually hunching slightly, with the color along it's sides changing to a subtle shade of yellow (one of the few outward signs of emotion for that race); the ch'korg ambassador's eyes rippled through several colors, as they did when embarrassed, while refusing to look directly at the screen.
"I take it by your reactions, that this solution did not cross your minds. With your permission, I would like to have my staff work up an agreement for your two peoples, over the fair and mutual use of the available planets within the system. I am sure that your two races could eventually come to respect each other, once you realize that they are not a threat to each other's respective element – water, for you, and land, for yours."
Eager to save face, and not to look the continued aggressor to it's counterpart, they both readily agreed to Picard's suggestion.
"In that case, I will assign Mr. Data and a team to draft the appropriate papers. We will have them sent to your respective computers for your perusal as soon as we can. Please be patient a little longer. I am sure that this should not take too long.
"Thank you for your consideration in this matter. Picard, out."
With a beep in acknowledgement of the end of the transmission, the channel closed, and the captain stood, straightening his uniform.
"Data, I want you to assemble your team, and to start on the documents immediately. Will, you have the bridge. Give me a call if we have any other problems."
With that, he adjourned to his ready room and sank wearily into the chair. Rubbing the sides of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, he called to the computer.
"Computer, tea, earl gray, 39 Celsius."
A low hum sounded throughout the small room, and Picard stood to retrieve the beverage from the food replicator. Strolling back to his chair, he stopped briefly to study the lionfish within the bubble tank in his wall. His nerves began to calm down as he sipped at his drink of choice and pondered the fish in the wall aquarium. As he watched Lexington swim idly within that sphere, his door chimed, alerting him to the presence of someone wishing entry. With a weary voice, he called out.
"Come."
The door slid into the wall, and in stepped Deanna Troi, a concerned look in her eyes and voice as she addressed him.
"Captain, is everything all right?"
Picard studied his ship's councilor a moment. The young woman wore her dark, curly hair in a ponytail on this day, a blue dress uniform, and sat erect on the edge of her chair opposite her captain. Finally, deciding on the appropriate response to her question – which was to tell the truth, instead of brushing off her concerns – Picard spoke.
"Sometimes, when dealing with other species, it feels like I am babysitting children," he said with a sigh. She frowned at this, fully aware of his discomfort around children, and his feelings about families in general on a starship. He continued: "It's as if they refuse to see beyond their own immediate concerns, their own desires. Often times, like this one, the solution is looking them in the face, but they refuse to see it, or can't see it, due to their own arrogance and self-importance. On top of that, they seem to think that they are the only ones that matter, and refuse to see the point of view of the other side.
"You know that I love my job as the captain of a starship, but sometimes… I don't know, sometimes it gets so bogged down with bickering and arguing. I always felt that Starfleet was established to explore the galaxy, and for quite some time that was what we did. Now, we almost do more mediating and the like, than we do exploring."
Deanna studied the man across from her as he settled back in his chair a little further. She knew that the captain's heart and soul lay in exploration, the discoveries that lay 'out there', waiting to be made by the intrepid souls willing to boldly venture forth. That same spirit resided in many of those that made Starfleet their career of choice, especially those that founded that same entity. True, not all ships could be exploration vessels, traveling beyond known space; in fact, a goodly number of Starfleet's vessels regularly patrolled the known regions, protecting the boarders and providing aid to allies. Still, there were those, like the Enterprise, herself, who were slated as exploration ships, with the Enterprise being the flagship of the fleet.
"Exploration is still the expressed mission of Starfleet, Captain; that mandate has never changed. What has changed, though, is the fact that we have so many peoples looking to us for guidance and protection, as well as insight and wisdom. As the number of member races grows, and our sphere of influence expands, those needs also grow. We are needed on an ever greater basis."
"That is true, but so often those same people act more like school ground bullies and spoiled children than thinking adults. That is where my frustration is coming from, I believe. So often, these disputes could be settled so much easier if they would just sit down and listen, rather than bickering and throwing insults. Take the current situation – the ch'Korg and the other species – we just spent the last two days listening as they spewed threats and insults, not to mention accusations, back and forth, before we finally found out what the whole problem was. Once that dispute's point was established, it was only a matter of mediating a mutual apportioning agreement between the two. If they had sat down and thought and talked about things, we could have avoided two days' worth of needless fighting."
The ship's councilor smiled at her captain, then answered his statement.
"And there you have hit upon the crux of the problem – they are spoiled. So many of these races that we encounter have risen from a meager existence within their own worlds, to being the alpha species, with everything else subject to their every whim and desire. Suddenly, they are thrust into the bigger galaxy, where they now need to learn to share and consider others. We have to be the mentors to them, showing them the way, guiding them as they grow beyond themselves, as they integrate into the larger picture. That is a slow process, often times painful and frustrating.
"As the captain of a starship, especially the flagship of the Federation, you have a responsibility towards those same species, to provide that guidance. In a way, as the captain, you have to act the parent to those under you, as well as those that we are called upon to aid. If you think about it, you are stating a common complaint of many parents: you wish to be doing one thing, but are constrained to accomplish something else – just as many parents would want to be at some other task, but are bound to guide and raise their children instead."
The Captain looked down in thought for a few moments, digesting what he had just heard. He gave a half chuckle, curving one corner of his mouth up in a self-deprecating half-smile.
"I guess I did sound a bit like a petulant parent, didn't I. I just get frustrated sometimes, and it does feel good to have a listening ear as I let it out. Thank you, Councilor. I guess we should head back out. I'll join you in a moment."
"That is quite all right, sir. Everyone has to release their feelings and fears once in a while. Just remember that's the reason that I am here."
Troi stood up and walked to the door, then flashed a smile back at Picard, before stepping out the door once it opened for her. Picard pressed his fingers together in a steeple in front of his face, as his eyes unfocused, his mind light-years away in thought. Several minutes later, he exited his own chair and replaced his used tea cup back in the food replicator, and left his ready room.
Captain's Log: We are back on course, continuing our way along our mapping and probing mission. After another four days of negotiations, the treaty over land rights was signed by both the ch'Korg and the other species (whom our Universal Translator and the ship's computer still have not been able to properly translate), granting them both rights to their respective favored environments. I have recommended to Starfleet that they send an envoy to keep an eye over the two races for the foreseeable future, as they both tend toward a rather… aggressive… way of problem solving - and I do see the distinct possibility for problems within the near future as both sides settle in to their respective roles within the agreement.
I, for one, am looking forward to a little simple scanning and probing for a couple of days, before we really get back down to serious exploration. With any luck, we may stumble upon a new race, a planet full of archeological remnants, or something similarly stimulating.
I am still meeting with Councilor Troi, as per her suggestion, to try to lift this dismal mood that seems to have settled over me during the negotiations. It seems to be helping, and I am able to keep it from my expressions while interacting with the rest of the crew. My actions and temper had become rather short at the end, and I ended up apologizing to Will after a particularly short response on the day of the treaty's signing. After that, Troi pulled me aside and immediately set a time for my appointment with her. She has ordered Holodeck time for me each day, to try to counteract my growing dissatisfied mood.
Picard put his horse through his paces, as he obeyed his Councilor's advice, which was more of an order than anything else. She had even had Doctor Crusher add her own voice on the matter, though they kept the whole thing off of official record. True, Troi kept her private records of patient/ therapist meetings – his own included – however, those were sealed and kept under the strictest confidence, unless unsealed by court order or an official investigation by Starfleet. He had to admit, though, that he had started to feel better, after being able to just relax in the company of the stallion, with little more to do than see to his care, grooming, and exercise, for a while each day – or any other relaxing scenario that he decided to do during that one to two hours per day.
The Captain of the Enterprise spurred the stallion on, urging him forward, and held on as the horse easily cleared the fence they jumped over. They followed the path around the grounds, trotting at pace, Picard reveling in the sensation of the powerful beast at his command that he sat upon. He suddenly, in a moment of whim, pulled the reigns to the right, sending the now-galloping horse across a field, through a stand of trees, and over another fence. This was pure joy, just him, the horse he rode, and the wind and open space about him – without a care in the world.
A few minutes later, there was a small chiming sound, followed by the voice of the ship's computer reminding him that his shift on the bridge would be starting in roughly forty-five minutes. Almost reluctantly, he guided the equestrian back to the stalls, dismounted, and gently ran a hand over it's muzzle and flanks, apologizing for the abrupt departure.
"Exit," he called to thin air, and a double door appeared out of nowhere, splitting open to reveal the hallways of his beloved ship, bustling with activity as people passed by on errands of their own.
Picard returned to his room to freshen up and change into the familiar red and black uniform for his shift, then made his way to the nearest turbolift. A few minutes later, he strolled onto the bridge, relieving the nightshift officer who was all too eager to end his own stint in the captain's chair. As he took his seat, others of the day shift began to trickle in – Riker, with a huge grin on his face, as he came to the punch line of some joke he was relaying to Deanna Troi, who was likewise smiling in amusement; young Mr. Crusher, who appeared to have recently awaken, as he yawned mightily, covering his mouth with his hand in courtesy; Data, who never required sleep, and was eternally punctual. He smiled as he thought of that; you could almost set the Enterprise's internal clocks to Data's routine punctuality, he was that reliable. He knew that the same changeover was occurring with similar efficiency throughout the ship, from the bridge down through engineering.
"You seem in better spirits today, Sir!" Riker opened, as took his seat to the right of Picard.
"Indeed! It's good to see you smiling so freely once again, Captain," offered Troi, sitting at his left.
"I am grateful to be under way once again. This is what we are meant to be doing - out here, exploring the unknown, expanding the boundaries of known space. You two seemed to be enjoying yourselves, as well, when you entered," he countered, easily diverting the attention from his self, teasing the two senior officers.
An all-too-familiar playful glint rose to Riker's eye, along with a broad grin, as he recognized his superior's tactics, though he decided to play along – at least for now.
"Oh, I was just telling a joke to Deanna. I could recount it to you, but I don't think you would catch the whole gist of it without a lot of explaining of the ideas involved." His grin split his face even more as he caught the expression on his Captain's face. "Maybe some other time, then. Still, it could pass the time…" he trailed off.
"As you said, some other time, Number One," and Picard chuckled lightly. He turned his attention to the two in front of him, and inquired as to their current status.
The android known as Data, who was seated in the front left seat, clad in the yellow and black uniform of his station and track through Starfleet, replied without turning his head, with little in the way of inflection.
"We are currently on course and all scans have detected nothing of interest. We are moving on to the next quadrant in about fifteen minutes, and will begin anew at that point in time," he answered, as he updated his own data banks as regards the vessel's state of affairs within the time it takes a person to begin to blink an eye.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Data."
Turning to his companions, Picard decided to strike up a conversation to pass the time, while the computers did most of the work. The crew, at this point, were required only to monitor the progress of the computer, as it handled the moment to moment duties of scanning and piloting. Data and the youth next to him only looked on every so often to make sure that nothing out of the ordinary was detected.
"Captain, we have a message coming in from Starfleet Headquarters," Worf said some time later, as the crew sat in companionable silence, watching the view screen, which still showed only the infinite blackness of space.
"I'll take it in my ready room, Mr. Worf," Picard stated as he stood and began making his way to said location.
A minute later, and he was seated at his desk, imputing the required access codes to open the communication channel.
"Good afternoon, Captain Picard!" were the first words out of the mouth of the person on the other end of the communication line.
"Admiral Hansen! How are you doing today?"
"I'm fine, and yourself?"
"Just fine, Sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
With those words, the pleasantries were over. The face on the screen lost a little bit of it's smile.
"Well, Captain, I know that this is going to grate a little on your nerves, but I need you to divert to our outpost on Lineer 7. You will be picking up a few new crew members, as well as receive some much needed system upgrades. This will serve to update the Enterprise's protocols, as well as communication encoding software. There have been a few problems of late with someone attempting to crack our encryption protocols, and we are just doing this as a preemptive measure. We're not sure who the culprit or culprits are, but they are very good. They nearly had us at one point, but we were able to block them."
Picard's face was troubled. There had not been such an attempt in a very long time - not in recent memory, at least. There were several species that he could think of right off the top of his head that would attempt this, but he really couldn't see them trying at this point in time.
"Certainly, Sir. It's true that it will prove to be a small inconvenience, but we will be there as soon as possible."
"Again, I'm sorry for this, Picard, but it is a necessary evil. We can't afford to have our systems hacked, our codes known by just anyone. While you are updating your systems, we will continue our investigation into this matter.
"You will be met by an operative of ours to oversee the update, and it will be carried out in secrecy. Only yourself and your senior staff are to know of this, as they will be receiving new codes at that time. The operative will approach you in a designated area that will be attached to this transmission, along with their dossier. They, of course, will know you or your staff.
"Good luck, Captain. I hope all goes smoothly with the changes."
"Thank you, Admiral. I wish you success in tracking down the individual or individuals responsible for this."
"I appreciate the sentiments. Hansen, out."
Picard tapped the screen on his desk, simultaneously ending the transmission and bringing up the enclosed file. As he studied the face of the woman on the viewer – a woman in her mid-forties, with shoulder-length dark hair cut close to her face, clear brown, piercing eyes looking into the viewer - his mind began to contemplate what information was revealed to him. He frowned in thought, and sat back in his seat, absently straightening his uniform. The ramifications of these events were disturbing, to say the least. He didn't know what disturbed him more: that someone attempted to hack into Starfleet's computer systems, or that they almost succeeded.
With resignation, and a weary sigh, he stood from his desk, making his way to the bridge. Once there, he turned to the young Wesley Crusher, son of the ship's doctor, Beverly Crusher.
"Mr. Crusher, plot a course to the Federation outpost on Lineer 7." He waited the few seconds it took for the computer to process the alteration, and the pilot's confirmation of the change. "Warp factor 8, engage."
There was a barely perceptible change in the sound and feel of the great vessel's engines as they proceeded to their new destination at high warp.
"Number One, Mr. Worf, Deanna, please join me in my ready room. Dr. Crusher, Mr. LaForge," he spoke and the computer automatically connected him to the infirmary and to engineering, prompting the two people to answer him. "I need you to come to my ready room."
"Acknowledged, Sir," came the prompt reply of the Chief Engineer.
"On my way," answered the Chief Medical Doctor.
