Chapter 11

2367 Starfleet Academy

Wesley Crusher sat up in his bed quickly. He clutched at the sheets. He'd just had a dream. Captain Picard had been trying to tell him something. Something about missed opportunities. He blinked at the light streaming in through his dorm window. His roommate had brought his girlfriend home to crash and they were both snoring loudly. Great, I'm never going to fall asleep again with these two idiots, he thought sourly.

Suddenly his gaze caught on something. He bolted upright on his knees in bed. "Who is it?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady and strong. The figure seemed to shimmer in front of his window. It was a figure from all of his recent and distant memories; even more familiar to him than that of his own father. "Captain," he whispered.

The translucent figure of Captain Picard reached out to him plaintively. The figure's lips moved, but no sound emitted.

"Captain! Captain!" he shouted, jumping out of bed. "I'm going to help you sir. I promise," he cried out. But the Captain's figure was now gone. Wesley stood in the middle of his bedroom with the distinct feeling that he might be going crazy. Suddenly the light snapped on.

His annoyed roommate sat up in bed looking groggy. "Dude…can't you see we're trying to sleep here?"

They moved together as they always had. Everything was natural between them, as it should be. He could sense when she wanted something more from him, or if she wanted him to just be still beside her, just as she seemed able to sense his every need and desire. How long had they been in bed like this? He was losing track. She gazed up into his eyes as he kissed her. She looked at him the same way he felt—intoxicated by the feeling of being together alone. The feeling of newness had never worn away, and he wished deep down that it never would. As he watched her a single tear ran down her cheek. He sucked in a breath and wiped the tear away from her ear with the back of his hand. "What's wrong?"

She smiled and shook her head. "It's alright. I just…I just never thought that we would ever be together, and now we are."

He smiled. "Yes, we are." He rolled onto his side and reached his hand down to rest lightly on her abdomen. "All of us, together." She put her hand over his and closed her eyes. She was only just starting to show, and the nausea had been coming often he knew. He kissed her lightly on her temple where her tears had not yet dried.

She looked at him with a suddenly serious expression. "You know this can't last, don't you?" she said. His content smile was immediately erased.

Seeing his crestfallen expression she took pity on him and laughed, poking him in the chest. "He was so excited to show you his new project last night. It's just a matter of time until he knocks on the door."

Relieved he laughed and sat up. "At least he has the good manners to knock," he said, pulling his pajama pants on. "Thanks to his mother," he added over his shoulder.

"Ha!" she pushed him in the back with her bare foot, and gathered the covers around her. Still laughing, he pushed himself out of bed and crept over to the door. He cleared his throat loudly, glancing at Beverly, who clasped her hands over her mouth.

"Chief Engineer Wesley Crusher to the bridge," he called out, and opened the door. The seven year old boy practically fell in to the room, carrying some kind of ingenious construction in his left hand. Wordlessly he reached up to hand it to Picard with an earnestness that Picard found unusual for an officer so young. Taking the tiny replica of the warp core from the boy, he made a point of studying it from every angle very seriously.

"Wesley, my boy, I think you have just improved the efficiency of the engines by 30 percent."

"Thirty percent," Wesley exclaimed. "That's even better than last time," he said proudly.

"Yes, even better," Picard agreed, reaching down to pick the little boy up. He hugged him tightly and felt the usually tense child relax into his arms.

The little boy draped his arms around Picard's neck and planted a wet kiss on his cheek…his son.

2355 The Malkatan Base

My son…

The voices came closer. "Where is the Ferengi?"

"He escaped after I shot him," said the second voice.

"He must be somewhere on the base. Find him!"

"General we have scoured the base, but Kad is nowhere to be found. I believe he used his time traveling device to escape."

"…Very well. Forget him. We have Picard, we have his ship, his crew and his technology. I even have the Singularity Net for myself. And if either of those Ferengi returns to try and take it from me, I will have their heads too."

"General, I do not believe they will return. Kad will be satisfied with his payment, and Bok will be satisfied with the knowledge that Picard will be dead soon…you do intend to kill him don't you, General?"

"Yes, of course…eventually. He has not yet outlived his usefulness. Now, wake him up."

There was the heavy shuffling of boots. "Get up!" By now he should not have been shocked by the heavy boot to his ribs, but whether he expected the kick or not, it was still painful.

"Uh," he grunted disagreeably. He had no intention of moving anywhere. His cheek pressed against the cold floor, but compared to his captors the floor was almost comforting. Besides, what could they possibly do to him that they hadn't already done two or three times already? The boot shoved him again. Blinking, he struggled to focus and remember what had happened recently to cause him to end up face first on the floor. Then he thought better of it. Whatever had happened had caused him a great deal of pain; that was all he needed to know. He closed his eyes again and tried to see her face, and to imagine the cold floor was her smooth skin.

Suddenly a great burning weight was grinding into his right shoulder and instantly he remembered what had happened. He had been beaten and dragged into a communications center, had come face to face with a Ferengi for the very first time, had tried unsuccessfully to escape by shooting the Malkatans with their own weapons, and then had been shot himself. Now, the same heavy boot that had been nudging his ribs unkindly was stomping on his shoulder. He sniffed in and smelled burnt flesh. Despite the sickening feeling it gave him, he was happy to be alive. The wound had been cauterized by the Malkatan disruptor beam, and consequently he had not bled to death. He cried out as the Malkatan boot pressed deeper into his wound. Suddenly he was kicked, lifted up and rolled over onto his back. One of the Malkatan guards that had been holding him during the conference with the Ferengi knelt down toward his face. "I said get up! You killed my cousin Blahn!"

He was yanked to his feet and stood swaying, honestly not caring if he fell again. "Really?" He turned his head to look at the Malkatan. "I'm sorry…I meant to kill you instead." The Malkatan growled at him and motioned as if he intended to hit him. Picard smiled through bloody teeth at him.

"Enough!" It was General Unh. He was seated in a nearby chair, his wounded leg splayed out before him. He nodded toward a chair adjacent to his. "Put him in that chair there. Give him something to eat."

"But General…" protested the flabbergasted guard. "He killed Blahn, and then tried to kill you. You must not treat him to anything but more pain."

"Do not tell me what I must not do, you drat head. We have already subjected him to several days of pain," said the General. He looked up at the guard. "Has it worked yet?"

The guard scowled and pushed Picard down into the chair roughly. Picard looked up at him and continued to smile at the guard as he backed away. Picard turned his attention to the General. "I'm very glad to hear you have come to see reason. It does no good to torture me. Just tell me what you want. Perhaps I can meet your demands."

"There are still ways to torture you without physically harming you Picard." He hit a switch on a nearby console and a view screen was activated. "Neither of these two fools has given us much yet." There on the screen sat his two most trusted officers, Commander Zev, and his weapons officer Vigo. Like him, they had been beaten, but their faces remained defiant. "They seem dedicated to you, Picard. I hope that will not result in their demise," he added. Zev made eye contact with Picard and tipped one of her antennae at him, but he simply smiled grimly and shook his head. They were alive. But that didn't mean they needed to act rashly. The Malkatan General shut off the screen and fixed his beady eyes on Picard, slowly revealing his sharp teeth. "And we already told you what we wanted Picard. We want to learn to use your technology, specifically your weapons. We have always desired weapons—so much so that we nearly destroyed ourselves and every living thing on our planet." He reached out to hand Picard a cup of water.

Picard took the water and considered for a moment whether the cup was breakable—as in worth attempting to break over the Malkatan's head, but it appeared to be made of soft, pliant, non-lethal material. And realistically he knew he was in no shape to take anyone on at the moment. Certainly not without a suitable plan.

Instead he nodded and took a sip of the water. "That sounds like a rather familiar story," said Picard. "Many cultures including my own fought amongst ourselves incessantly for ages to the point of near extinction. Much of that history is as shameful is it is wonderful."

"But now you are innocent and peace-loving," the General snorted. "With weapons that disintegrate flesh and ships with enough firepower to destroy my planet…."

"We've got plenty of growing to do," Picard admitted. "But the cultures of the Federation are very diverse, and yet we manage to adhere to principles of political non-interference and non-aggression consistently."

The Malkatan General took a large bowl of something hot from an approaching guard and passed it to Picard, watching his prisoner closely.

He greedily drank his soup as fast as possible, oblivious to the burning sensation in his throat. Hmm…tastes a bit Klingon…. He shrugged and then wiped his sleeve over his chin, already feeling invigorated. "With the Prime Directive as our guiding principle we are allowed to contact non-space faring worlds only when they request it. Usually by the time they have the ability to contact us across space, they have some kind of limited means to travel into space. And even after that we are limited as to how we introduce technology to lesser developed species."

The General laughed. "Less developed species, such as the Malkatan race…my race? Yes, I've heard of your Prime Directive. The Ferengi told me all about it. In fact we laughed together at its ludicrousness…."

Picard said nothing, but looked down at the table. Who were the Ferengi and how did they know so much about the Federation—about him?

"Does your precious Prime Directive condone your violence against us?"

He looked up sharply at his captor. "My violence? The Prime Directive does not prevent me from defending myself…even with deadly force if necessary. You have been holding me against my will for days without food or medical attention, and you've threatened to kill me numerous times."

"And you shot me through the leg!" shouted General Unh, stomping his uninjured foot on the floor. He pointed at Picard, "You may think we are a primitive culture, Picard, but we have every advantage over you now, don't we?"

Picard stared at him, trying to figure his situation. "Because you met the Ferengi," he said slowly. "They gave you the Singularity Net and you trapped us somewhere close to your planet. You haven't even achieved space travel yet, have you?"

"We had other priorities," said General Unh arrogantly.

"So you've said. Such as constant war amongst your own species. And…without the Ferengi our two cultures would not have met for many years."

"Let me tell you this Picard…the Ferengi are not fools. And they do not give anyone anything. This particular Ferengi—Bok is his name is a salesman. All of his people are. They care for nothing but profit usually. But this one Bok has a particular blind spot…you, Picard."

"Nonsense. I've never heard of or seen a Ferengi until you took me into custody," said Picard with genuine shock.

The Malkatan leaned forward with sadistic delight. "Well he is quite familiar with you…it seems you murdered his son. And he wants revenge…which is why you are here with me."

"Let's just assume I knew Bok—which I do not—you made a deal with him to gain access to our technology and in return you've captured me. Am I to be Bok's payment for your stealing our weapons technology?"

General Unh rose slowly to his feet favoring his good leg. "That's enough talk for now." He nodded at a guard. "See to it he is bathed and given new clothes. And bandage his arm so that he does not become infected and die. I will decide when that happens."

"What now, General?" Picard called after the limping Malkatan, in a last ditch effort to gain the upper hand. "Now that you've broken your deal with Bok and stolen his rental—and on top of that you haven't killed me, which is I am sure what he wants. But you can't kill me can you? Because you need me!"

The Malkatan turned back to look at him with a sinister smile. "Your crew members were extremely disoriented when they were pulled from your ship. I expect it is an interesting after effect of the Net's power. One I hope to exploit. Disorienting your enemy is a very powerful tactic, wouldn't you agree? Sadly one of your engineers had to be killed—he simply went mad, believing his dead brother had returned to save him."

"Leave my crew alone!"

"I noticed you talked in your sleep quite often. Tell me, Picard, have you had any dreams since arriving at my base?"

Picard felt a chill inside him. His only refuge had been his visions of Beverly. They had seemed so real, that he had even come to believe some of them might be memories, or even premonitions of what was to come. If he could only free himself and his ship he had convinced himself he would be returning to the woman he loved and who loved him. But the General's words brought him back to reality. "No, I haven't dreamt," he said dully.

"Not even of your family—a wife perhaps?"

"No," he said stonily. "I have no wife."

"Good…then no one will miss you."

2367 On board the USS Aldrin Somewhere in the Solar System…

"A what?" Riker sat forward to face the small view screen in his ready room. "Admiral, we're currently en route to Callisto to investigate the attack on the research facility. I wasn't informed of any new crew member assignments."

He glanced to the side at his new first officer, who had beamed aboard less than two hours ago. Pretty good poker face, Riker noted to himself. So far so good with Obi. Commander Patrick Obi was a young man, brash, and intelligent with dark brown skin and according to rumor a taste for danger. Among other things, he made Riker feel old, really old. But so far they had gotten along well. Obi said nothing, but glanced at him with a knowing look.

"You mean, you weren't informed of any new crew assignments until now, Captain," Admiral Richardson corrected him smoothly. "I am sure you will find that CASU will be a wonderful assistant to you, Riker."

CASU? Riker laughed. "Sir, with all due respect, I do not need a personal assistant." His first officer shifted next to him.

Admiral Richardson's face grew tight. "Captain, CASU is part of an important new pilot program, the first one, in fact."

"And CASU is his—er, her name?" Commander Obi ventured.

"No Commander, CASU, stands for Cybernetic Aide and Security Unit. CASU has no gender," said the Admiral.

Riker's face went crimson. "Admiral, since when is Starfleet producing androids?"

Admiral Richardson smiled. "We're not. Captain, CASU is a robotic unit. It's artificial intelligence features are based on those of our starship computers. Certainly it has no advanced positronic brain…no desire to be human. CASU has been programmed to be useful and if necessary, quite lethal to our enemies. Gentlemen these are especially dangerous times. We learned through the events leading up to Wolf 359 that starship captains are much too vulnerable to harm…and even abduction, as you well know."

Was that a shot at him, personally? Riker really hoped that it wasn't.

"Captain, Commander, it is very important that you both set an appropriate model for this crew when it comes to CASU. CASU is not a crew member, nor should it be treated as such. To ensure that this happens, CASU's programmer will be accompanying it. Dr. Mayer will be tasked with making sure CASU is operating at maximum efficiency at all times."

Riker was not happy, so instead of saying what he really felt, he simply said, "Sir."

"Good then. You'll pick up your new robotic unit at Star Base 24, following your investigation of the attack on the research station. Richardson out."

Less than an hour later on board the Research Station Galileo 1…

"No sign of any bodies, Captain," Commander Obi reported. He didn't need to mention that while there was an absence of bodies, the surfaces of the main control room was covered with blood. "One of the hatches was blown, sir, but all areas are now re-pressurized and the atmospheric mix is breathable. Radiation levels are normal."

"Good work," Riker said. He pulled off his helmet and looked around him. The air was chilled, which was good because it muted the smell of death around them.

"We need to take as many readings a possible, Obi. Just looking around here…I have no clue what happened to these people, or whoever did this."

"The work of a cruel heart, Captain," Obi agreed.

"Sirs!" They turned around to follow the voice. It was Lieutenant Kashirin. The Security Chief was pointing excitedly at a wall. Riker and Obi ran to her side and knelt down to see what she was looking at.

Whoever the poor soul was who had died in this spot had the fortitude and courage to write one word in his or her own blood. Riker was unfamiliar with the word "Malkatan", but he had a feeling that unfamiliarity would soon end.

"Get me a link to Admiral Nakamura," Riker said.