Hey boys and girls, we're back with Part 7.

Update: 4th March (18:40 UK time) - I've changed some of the text to get rid of some duplicate paragraphs that have made it into the final edit

Enjoy :)

Picard sat by the medical bed, his eyes slowly growing heavy as fatigue began to catch up with him. Several hours had gone by and there was still no change in Troi's condition, several times, Dr. Crusher had said there was an improvement in her brain patterns, gamma levels rising, indicating slowly she was recovering from her coma, but to Picard, she was unchanged. Trapped in a coma and far from any help that Picard could give her.

He checked the shipboard clock and found it it was time to leave. Squeezing her hand, Picard left Dianna Troi to her own recovery and made his way to the Conference room. Entering the turbo lift that would put him on the correct deck he grew more anxious, which was unsettling. It wasn't like him at all, and that irritated him. 'A Starfleet Captain does not get nervous', he thought to himself.

That being said, no Starfleet Captain had found themselves in his situation. A visitor from the future so terrible, so horrifying it defied all logic and sanity. Even witnessing a glimpse of it had sent the resident psychic into a Coma. The doors opened as he once more was confronted with the evidence that something had happened on that holo-deck.

The temperature did drop when it shouldn't have but more importantly, he had felt something, and that something is what gave him pause.

The fact that Sigismund seemed willing to go back, going so far as to threaten murder on anyone who would delay his return robbed Picard of all words with which to describe his sense of bewilderment.

The temperature had dropped once more several hours later, affecting the entire ship but the moment had quickly passed. Whatever it was, Sigismund had not offered much explanation when asked.

Disregarding everything else, in all honesty, Picard had hoped to delay discussing what they had all witnessed while on Holo-deck 3, but Riker had insisted, borderline demanded that it happen. As Picard neared the correct floor he felt some alien pattern of vibration but dismissed it as routine warp core stress-testing. The elevator doors sliding open with a mechanical thud and whoosh of air proved his assumptions incorrect as the full force of Sigismund's yelling washed over him like a tidal wave.

"Do not presume to govern my actions!" Sigismund roared, the panels on the wall themselves seemed to shake with every word, "Return me to my rightful place!" and he carved yet another set of deep gouges in the conference table as he clenched his armored fingers if only to prevent him tearing the insubordinate crewman apart.

"Yelling is going to get you nowhere," Riker retorted and rubbed his left ear in an attempt to equalize the pressure and relieve the ringing that threatened to deafen him. "I highly suggest you control yourself. That being said, we have a moral obligation to you, Captain. The sanctity of life may not hold any bearing to you, but aboard the Enterprise and within the Federation it does. I'm not even sure we should let you return." The last word was said at a volume just below a whisper, and the speed of a glacier. The tip of Sigismund's sword was a hairsbreadth from his throat.

The sword had appeared so suddenly that the other crewmen in the room had not noticed until it was too late. They stood in a start all the same and made to move against Sigismund, but his diamond blue eyes halted their advances. They knew that they could not hope to intervene, perhaps nobody in the entire Federation could.

As long as Commander Riker was tall, the sword's surface was darker than the cold void outside the ship. Across the length were four words, two per side, each inlaid with gold. Imperator Rex. Dei Castigator. Riker now eyed the words. 'Divine punishment of the Emperor-King'.

"My oaths have been made," Sigismund growled, his face could have been carved from marble, his blue eyes blazing.

Riker backed away slowly, inching away from the unwavering, pointed blade. As he eyed Sigismund, he could not help but feel sorry for him. He was so singular in purpose, he had nothing outside of war. A man who would never experience the warming embrace of peace.

Picard's voice interrupted the silence that seemed to hang thick in the air. "Sigismund put down your weapon. Need I remind you that you are aboard a Federation starship. While aboard this Federation starship you will abide by Federation rules."

Sigismund sheathed his enormous sword. His eyes met Picard's and gave an order of his own, "return me to my rightful place, my presence here endangers this entire ship. Since my arrival, the veil between worlds has begun to thin."

"Veil between worlds?" Worf asked, his eyebrow raised almost mockingly. The other crewmen including LaForge and Picard had not expected this new direction.

"Then what happened with..." Riker trailed off, unable speak Troi's name, "what caused that?"

"Now that the warp is more easily felt, those untrained, those who are psykers," Sigismund spat the word out as if it had a foul taste, "and mentally weak are more susceptible to its influence. The temperature drop was a side effect of her psychic feedback from the experience."

He went on, unperturbed by the murmur between LaForge and Worf and unphased by the protestations of William Riker as he began accusing Sigismund of holding back vital information. Rather than listen, Sigmund simply spoke over the irate commander.

What Sigismund left out was that the longer she was alive, the greater the possibility of her demonic possession. If he revealed that fact, the Captain would make for more stable areas of space and that would be unacceptable. Whatever happened to the crew of this ship, Sigismund had decided several days ago, was inconsequential.

The end, his returning to the cataclysmic battle above Cadia, was more than justified by the lives of this crew. Navy men, serfs and Tech Priests aboard any Black Templar vessel knew this, accepted this. Just as it had been for over 800 years with him as High Marshal. The Crusade would never be allowed to slow. This could not be made the exception.

Once more, Captain Picard tried to be diplomatic, as difficult as it would be with someone as immovable as Sigismund.

"Sigismund," the giant turned to him. He was enormous. A mountain of muscle encased in armor. Eyes that had never seen peace in over a millennium. "We will return you home. We currently lack the knowledge with which to do so. You say you came here by way of 'the warp' but that remains an unknown realm to humanity at this point in time."

Sigismund breathed deeply through his nose. It was a long breath, all three lungs filling with air as he fought to control his anger. These men were useless to him. While he felt the warp thinning, being forced to wait for its eventual tear constricted him. It made time his enemy, and that put him on the defensive. His armor snarled in response, its machine spirit molded to the soul of its master, servo engines let loose high pitched whines as they spun up, only to die down again.

Picard could feel he was losing his singular audience and continued with more fleet a pace. "As I've mentioned earlier, we have been analyzing the energy signatures that appear to be building in their intensity around this area of space. Once our computer has deciphered the pattern -"

"You will be able to recreate it." Sigismund finished his sentence, no longer pacing.

"Yes, that is our hope," Picard said, nodding as the Space Marine started towards the door.

The giant exited the door with a slight squeal of metal as his pauldrons touched the doorway, "I will make preparations."

Once William Riker had guessed Sigismund was safely out of earshot, in the elevator and on another deck, he turned to Captain Picard and asked "are we really going to send him back to that place?" he asked, throwing his hand out in exasperation. "Would you fail to return to Starfleet if you found yourself in another time, maybe even another galaxy?" Picard countered.

"You don't understand, Captain. Those are two very different situations," Riker explained, standing up from his chair as if to emphasize the divide between their points of view. They continued to argue, what right did the Enterprise, or anybody for that matter have to hold someone against their will? Many things had been done for the supposed greater good of that individual, Picard said, very few had truly been philanthropic.

"How would we stop him returning home? We would sooner destroy the Enterprise by throwing spears at it than keep Sigismund here." Riker stopped as he considered what LaForge had just pointed out. He doubted very much that Lieutenant Worf or any number of Klingons could hope to bring Sigismund down without killing him, or more likely, bring him down at all. Riker had had a long career with Starfleet and never had he seen any one individual so equipped for combat, so singular in their purpose and design.

"What if we beamed him down to a deserted planet? We would give him enough supplies," he said, "maybe even a replicator." Riker turned around and met the eyes of each of the officers in attendance. "He could live the rest of his days-"

"Alone and vengeful towards we who betrayed him." Worf interrupted, "We know so little about Sigismund, but do you honestly believe that he would actually stay on this fictional planet? If he ever gets off of it, make no mistake, planets will burn."

"Commander Riker, why do you wish to keep Sigismund here?" Worf asked. "He is an honorable warrior whose only wish is to return and fight for his people. I do not like him," he emphasized, "but I will respect his wishes. If only others were as honorable as him on my home world."

For added effect, Worf pressed a button on the console in front of him. "Observe his performance during the so-called 'Siege of Terra'. A warrior such as he would be missed on the battlefield."

Riker didn't want to watch the footage that started to play on the wall-mounted view-screen, neither did many of those present. All watched regardless, Worf being the only one to have knowledge of what the footage contained. Once more madness seemed to invade civilized space.

Sigismund dominated the screen as the computer generated video playback from the data stored on Holo-deck 3.

Clad in the same black power armor, Sigismund vaulted over the rampart and fell to the ground below. He stood facing thousands of traitor legionaries and more of the unknowable creatures that the crew now knew as demons. He raised his sword, chained to his right hand and roared a challenge, daring any to come forward, he would face any challenge. He called them cowards, fools. Sigismund roared that he would smite any who came forward, for oath breakers deserved neither his mercy or that of the Emperor.

The Starfleet officers in attendance murmured quietly to themselves, sharing their disbelief at the images that they saw. Everything that they saw was alien to them. Large scale battles were something that didn't happen anymore, let alone civil wars that would apparently leave trillions dead, a number so enormous that it was almost impossible to imagine, even more so given that this empire still thrived enough to fight an entire galaxy to a standstill.

"You don't understand," Riker said wearily after Sigismund dispatched yet another Chaos Champion, this one in red armor, its left arm bereft of armor, instead wielding an enormous motorized axe chained to its arm like Sigismund. "If we send Sigismund back, he doesn't make any difference and dies anyway."

He looked around making eye contact with those present, trying to make them understand. "I went back to Holo-deck 3 after..." Riker took a deep breath as the memory of Troi's screaming returned to him, "it turns out Q supplied more information than we had originally thought. We could send him back right now if we wanted to."

"This is good news," Worf said, ignoring the first part of the sentence "we have no right to keep him in this timeline and who knows what kind of damage could be done to the future by even keeping him here."

"No, Worf, you don't understand! Whether or not he wants to go isn't what I'm concerned with. Neither is the timeline. His Imperium beats back whatever kind of attack is happening, even if he isn't there." Riker stood up, hands on the table in front of him as if trying to shoulder a great weight, "if we send him, he dies. He dies! Sending him back would be as good as killing him ourselves."

The room fell silent once again as the Starfleet officers each considered this new information. In that moment, Picard thought of what the ships psychic Dianna Troi had told him in his cabin before the rendezvous with Sigismund on Holo-deck 3.

He had asked her opinion on their new unexpected guest. Looking at him, Troi had paused for a long time, trying to choose words that would best describe one so totally alien as Sigismund. Troi had finally looked at Picard "Sigismund is a tortured soul," she said slowly. "It's hard for me not to feel his mind," she tried to explain, "he's very unlike you and I." She paused and frowned as Picard listened, waiting for her to continue.

"If I was a ship at sea and looking for land," she explained, "your mind would be a lighthouse. It's there if I wish to see it, but I must actively look at it to see it's there."

"This is where Sigismund is different. Sigismund's mind is a perpetual explosion in the night sky. Even here," she gestured to Picard's cabin, "several decks away I can feel his every fleeting thought. He isn't a psychic, Captain, don't get me wrong, but his presence is overwhelming."

"From his lifetime of war." Picard had said. It had made perfect sense that Sigismund would grow weary after over 1,000 years of near constant battle.

Troi had looked at him then, eyes misting and voice trembling. "No, Captain, that's not what pains him."

Captain Picard was brought back into the present as once again the room descended into a further argument over the moral implication of both keeping Sigismund here against his will to save him, telling him and asking whether or not he wished to go, or sending him without telling him that he would die.

"Enough!" Picard ordered. "There will be no more of this," his arm slicing through the air, solidifying the matter. "I will speak to Sigismund. If he wishes to go, he will go. Otherwise, I would welcome him aboard until we find a suitable place for him to live out his days in peace."

Though Sigismund was in Ten-Forward according to the computer, Picard instead made his way back to Holodeck-3 in search of more answers. He knew so little about Sigismund and his life, to try and talk to him without first understanding him would do neither of them any good.


Ten-Forward was situated at the extreme end of the Enterprise, several large windows offered spectacular views of the space ahead of the starship. Its main purpose was to serve as the social center of the ship and the room could always be counted on to have dozens of crew members enjoying each other's company over games of chess or syntheholic drinks. Tonight there was no hustle and bustle or cajoling of any kind.

Tonight the room was quiet, and its occupants whispered to each other in hushed tones lest they draw the attention of Sigismund who stood at one of the large windows, glaring out at the empty space ahead.

His glare was so intense that Reginald Barkley thought the stars themselves would dim their light to avoid his attention. At least that's what Barkley would do if he was a star. Sigismund frightened him. He represented war. Fighting. Death. Everything that Barkley was terrified of. Sigismund scared him more than taking the transporter, and that was petrifying.

Sigismund would have towered over the patrons even without his armor on. Wearing it now, he was a certified giant amongst mortals. His bolter was mag-locked to his thigh and his sword hung in its sheath next to his storm shield. Sigismund didn't expect or fear any attack, especially from those on the Enterprise, but having them close gave him a sense of calm that wasn't there without them.

Several of the crew had been brave enough to approach him and offered company at their table. Each time he had ignored them, too absorbed in his silent sentinel over the stars and what lay just behind their light. The material realm was thinning further, soon he would have an opportunity to return home.

Thinking of what his Chapter and Imperial Navy faced over Cadia, he heard the crunch of ceramite as his armored fingers clenched into fists. They had done so of their own accord as the rage within him bubbled up to the surface. Like magma, it sent out screaming swathes of hot, bitter fury. It radiated from his armor, intensified by the twin, thunderous beating of his hearts.

It came naturally, with the ease of drawing breath it was there. Its miasma engulfed his very being. A bestial thing, it strained against the shackles that held it in check, yearning to be unleashed on the enemies of the Imperium and those who assaulted the honor of the Chapter.

Once more, Sigismund forced it down, wrestling the monster that rampaged within his mind even as he thirsted to release it upon those deserving of vengeance. Soon, he thought as he saw a distant star begin to fade, engulfed by dark energies of the emerging immaterium. His gauntleted fist closed around the pommel of his sword. Soon.


Picard stepped onto Holodeck-3. "Computer," he announced before pausing. What could possibly pain Sigismund? He thought. Troi hadn't been specific when she had talked with him, only that Sigismund's father had left a scar that had never healed.

"Location." The computer chimed.

Picard thought a moment and then smiled. "English countryside, summer time."

Picard found himself amongst rolling plains of green grass. Woodland to his right blossomed with the sound of birds chirping and rustling of newly formed leaves as a warming breeze passed through. Picard drew in the scent of flowers, resting his hand on the old wooden fence nearby.

Captain Picard groaned in irritation, "how am I supposed to find out what that means?" Picard asked, "Scar that never healed, how profoundly unhelpful."

A flash of light interrupted the countryside scenery, followed by the overly cheerful laugh of Q. "Oh, my wonderful friend, my good friend Picard!" he quipped, flashing a bright white smile. "When will you ever learn to ask for help?"

Picard had patience left for games with Q, his patience already worn extremely thin by Sigismund's inability to be reasonable. "What?" Picard snapped. "What do you want now, Q? I really have no time for this."

Q seemed genuinely hurt, though Picard knew this wasn't the case. "Oh Picard!" Q exclaimed, wilting. "How you hurt me so!" Clutching at his chest, he leant heavily against a nearby tree and its shadow cast his face in a menacing light. "Why don't you ask the computer to show you the time his father refused to kill him?"

Q's eyes grew wide, meeting those of Picard and started to laugh. "Picard, you are so sensitive! How I enjoy our little talks." Once again, Q flashed a smile, "anyway, I must be off. Don't want you getting too bored of me," placing a hand on Picard's shoulder, "that would be just dreadful."

A flash of light was the last thing Picard saw of Q as he disappeared to plague someone else, somewhere else with his presence. Captain Picard looked to the heavens in frustration. Why did Q have to meddle in his life? Why not someone else's? If he believed in such things as Gods, Picard would have asked them for strength.

In the distance, he heard a voice. It was so quiet, he questioned whether or not he had even heard it. Ask and it is yours, Picard shook his head and put it out of his mind. After all of this was over, he would take some much-needed shore leave.

"Computer," Picard asked quietly, still cursing Q's existence, already forgetting the voice, "show me the event where Sigismund's father refused to kill him." As Holodeck-3 adjusted the simulation, Picard could do nothing but shake his head. What madness was he about to witness? Perhaps now, if Q was being helpful, he would begin to understand a little more of the Enterprise's newest guest.