Captain's log, stardate 41309.5. Karnas, governor of the planet Mordan, has sent a plea to Starfleet that only one man can answer. The only chance we have of recovering the Federation citizens being held hostage by an unknown faction is the personal appearance of Admiral Jameson, the same man who spoke for the Federation on Mordan forty-five years ago.
"Starfleet's becoming more permissive with each decade," the shriveled form of Admiral Jameson croaked, his piercing eyes on Soriana's left wrist.
The ship's chief counsel and ethics officer rubbed the bracelet self-consciously. The three different colored stones each rested in a leaf of the silver trefoil - a symbol with many uses on many worlds, but with a sacred enough meaning on Haliia that its use in this way made her deeply uncomfortable.
"It's permitted as a socio-religious matter," she explained. "A tchiroz bracelet, mourning a missing… comrade." In truth, the tchiroz would only ever be worn for a dead or missing mate, but it was the only way Soriana could justify wearing it in uniform. Considering where it had actually come from, she wasn't about to take it off.
"Well, I suppose similar sorts of things were permitted on my ship as well," the old man relented. "Didn't have any Haliians on my crew. Klingons either, obviously, since Worf's the first." He frowned. "How much longer does this last?"
"As long as it needs to," she smiled. "Until I feel I can make an assessment of your mental health. Just like Doctor Crusher assesses your physical health."
"Iverson's doesn't affect the mind, counselor. I'm as sharp as I've ever been."
"I can tell that, sir. How does it feel to return to Mordan after all these years?"
The Admiral smiled, and Soriana could feel the strong negative emotions he was concealing - fear, anger, guilt. "Familiar. The whole situation feels all too familiar."
"I certainly see the similarities. Karnas was involved last time as well, wasn't he?"
"Very much. And he was as new to his position as I was to mine. We're both very much at the other end of our careers, now," the man's gesture swept over his legs tucked into his mobility chair.
"How much of an asset do you expect Karnas to be in negotiating with the terrorists?"
Jamison shook his head. "If he were able to provide much assistance, he likely would have taken the issue on himself. These are Federation personnel on the line, and it will be Federation voices and resources that decide the issue."
Soriana scowled. "Four decades of fighting, and they're still using the same violent tactics to be heard."
"Names and faces change, Ms. Turhal," Jamison opined. "People stay just about the same."
*****
"He's as well as can be expected, considering his condition," Crusher explained to the senior staff seated around the table.
Yar confirmed, "Iverson's disease is chronically degenerative, yes? No cure, no chance of remission?"
"As of six months ago, I would have had to say so," Crusher said. "But now? A preventative measure is already available for newly diagnosed cases. And while recovery is projected to take three to five years, the prognosis for the treatment is a hundred percent."
"A sudden breakthrough?" Picard asked.
"The document," Soriana guessed.
The rest of the room was confused, but Beverly nodded confirmation. "One of the first sections they dissected and applied. It was exactly what it purported to be."
"Document?" Picard prompted.
"Ah! Sir, I believe they're referring to the WQR document." At a nod from the women, Data continued. "Six months, five days ago, a massive file was added to the central databases of the five major medical research facilities on Earth, as well Starfleet Medical. The file, several hundred exabytes in size, included a comprehensive description of the human body."
"We have had complete descriptions of the human body for millennia," Yar pointed out.
"Not like this," Crusher denied. "Every differentiated cell type is described down to the molecular level. And not just for healthy cells. Descriptions in the document include the actions and reactions to diseased cells, both untreated and in response to a wide varieties of organic and enzymatic agents."
Data added, "Starfleet Surgeon General Harris Eggleton described it as, quote, the expected result if every citizen of the Federation devoted their lives to nothing but fundamental medical research over the next five centuries."
"Why is it called the WQR document?" Picard asked.
"That was the only legacy metadata included in the document. The author was listed as WQR, with a single comment field. Quote, to my friends, in a show of good faith."
"I… didn't make the connection until now," Crusher admitted.
"It's rather obvious, I'd say," Picard frowned. "WQR. William Q. Riker." He pronounced the 'Q' like a curse. "I hope whichever Thomas he was named for isn't too offended."
Worf gave a growl, and spoke a phrase in Klingon. "Spit out the Romulan wine," he translated, "for it is surely poison."
"You knew of this?" Picard turned to his counselor, and she felt his disappointment and anger.
Soriana absently rubber the bracelet on her wrist as she said, "Yes, sir."
"And you saw no need to alert me. Why not?"
"What would you have done, captain? Stopped them?" Soriana spoke over the beginning of his answer. "These are medical researchers. They wouldn't use the data as gospel; they tested it. They used it to direct their research. Thirty-three incurable conditions already made curable. Right, doctor?"
"Fifty-seven, by my count," Beverly mumbled with the air of apology.
"In less than a year," Soriana pressed. "Under no self-consistent moral system is this not a good thing."
"Iverson's is one of those conditions?" Yar attempted to redirect the discussion.
Crusher nodded. "A long treatment process, as I said. Three to five years."
"So he won't make any noticeable recovery between now and our arrival at Mordan?" asked Picard.
"No, he will be considerably debilitated and subject to fatigue. In his current state, any prolonged discussion would be difficult."
"His mental state?" he asked Soriana.
"Capable. Strong. Quite emotionally invested. He's ready to put his entire career on the line for this. Deeply focused on it."
"Good," Yar nodded. "There's a lot at stake."
"And we need to be fully ready to support him. Mister Data, familiarize yourself with the circumstances of Jamison's earlier mission to Mordan. Consider what resources or information he might need."
"Aye, sir."
"Doctor, Counselor, I want you nearby whenever Jameson is on duty. Let's make sure that everyone… the hostages, and our senior guest… leaves Mordan in one piece."
*****
"Three to five years, sir; not three to five days," Crusher insisted. "There is no conventional medical explanation for what we're seeing."
"He's certainly shown remarkable improvement," Picard agreed. "But there's no possibility this is an unusually favorable reaction to the new treatment?"
"According to the admiral's records, he hasn't even started the new treatment. So I don't see how it's possible that -"
"Sickbay!" the elderly female voice bellowed over the comm. "Medical emergency in the admiral's quarters!"
"Beam him here," the doctor barked, grabbing her implements and heading for the emergency bed.
By the time Soriana arrived, the man was stable and starting to come to. His wife, Anne, had beat the counselor to sickbay, and Picard had never left.
"Admiral, there are traces of chemical substances in your blood and tissue samples that I can't identify." Crusher thumbed through several monitor displays. "Your red cell count is running riot. The cellular structure of your body is radically changing. Your DNA is skewed. There are absolutely no traces of Iverson's Disease."
"I see," Jameson nodded.
"Mark, what's going on?" Mrs. Jameson asked.
"I second the question," Picard said. "Admiral, are a particularly valuable commodity just now. Starfleet has a right to some answers."
"And you'll have them," the old man agreed. "I've planned this for a long time, ever since I learned I had Iverson's Disease. Since it put me in that chair." He took a focusing breath; Soriana could feel his relief in letting go this secret. "There's a planet in the Cerebus system, Cerebus Two. They say the natives have a process that rejuvenates the body, gives you your youth back."
"I'm familiar with the stories," Crusher volunteered. "There's no truth to them."
Jameson leaned in. "It's all true. I'm living proof. Oh, it's dangerous. The mortality rate is high, and it's very painful. Aliens are seldom allowed to obtain the process, but I managed it. I negotiated a treaty for Cerebus Two some years ago, and they felt obligated to honour my request for the process."
"Obviously it works very rapidly," Crusher admitted. "What's the operating mechanism?"
"The herb and drug combinations are self-administered slowly over a period of two years. Every response is different, depending on a being's DNA." He turned to his wife; Soriana sensed his fear at her reaction. "I got enough for both of us, Annie, but I had to test it on myself first. I couldn't risk you. If I died, well, I was half a man, so what did it matter."
"It would matter to me," she pleaded.
"But I was starting to change, Anne. It was almost undetectable, but the improvement was there." He looked around guiltily at the group "Then when this hostage situation came up, I knew I'd have to be at my peak to deal with it. I didn't have time to wait for the drug to work naturally."
"So you took the whole dose," Soriana guessed.
"I took both of them." He stood easily, taking to his feet like a man half his age. "And look at me, Annie, look at me. I'm strong. I'm alert, Fit. I'm fitter than you are, Picard. And I'm getting younger!"
"For now you are," Doctor Crusher scowled. "But you've taken an unstudied treatment in a manner even its makers never intended. Who knows what it will do?"
"Do you imagine the Cerberans didn't have a good reason for spreading out the drug over teo years?" Soriana asked.
"Besides which," Beverly added. "You're in the Federation. Regardless of what your doctors felt about the treatment, Admiral, you still should have told them and let them monitor you. Self-determination of medicine is a basic right; no one would have stopped you."
"With all due respect, doctor," Jameson replied. "That's only true in principle. In practice, a man of advanced age and limited mobility can quite easily be declared senescent by interfering caretakers who find a risky treatment unwise. With the best of motives, mind you. But it wasn't something I can risk."
"And me?" Anne Jameson pressed. "Do you have an excuse for not telling your wife of fifty years?"
"I… don't." He left it at that.
"There's a cue for the rest of us to clear out," Crusher ruled. "Admiral, I will be continuing to monitor these changes. But however you feel, I'm warning you not to strain yourself. There is no telling what this is doing to you.
*****
Turhal and Yar entered the observation lounge where Data was already prepping the display; the captain joined them a moment later. Soriana exchanged glances with her captain and XO; she couldn't imagine Data asking to meet with the senior staff unless there was a very good reason.
"What's this about, Mister Data?" Picard prompted.
"Sir, two days ago, you asked me to familiarize myself with Mark Jameson's prior mission to Mordan."
"That's right. And frankly I'm surprised that the relatively sparse file has taken you this long to digest."
Data's placid look betrayed no discomfort at the criticism. "The Federation records of the event are as you say, sir. However, the passage of time has made other avenues of information available. I noticed certain discrepancies between the Starfleet reports and certain publicly available descriptions of the Mordan conflicts. The delay in my report was caused by efforts I have taken to requisition and verify third party records.
Yar said, "I take it you uncovered something unexpected?"
"Indeed." Data displayed a timeline on the screen. "It is highly probable that Jameson was responsible to providing weapons to all five major factions at the initiation of the conflicts."
The shock was immediate. "That's a very serious accusation," Picard pointed out.
"I am aware of that, sir, but the evidence is strong. The weapons match requisitions covertly made from Federation and allied stockpiles, and were delivered by known Federation intermediaries. For instance, the Nausicaan freighter captain Sil-Bat contacted the Millian faction on stardate-"
"I have," Picard interrupted, "complete faith in the adequacy of your investigation." He sighed, and Soriana could feel the mix of anger and sorrow. "It's just… the escalating arms of the factions are what sustained forty years of bloody warfare. If the Admiral is truly responsible, it is easily one of the most heinous crimes of the Twenty-Fourth Century."
*****
"Yes. That's exactly what happened." The Admiral, now looking barely fifty, nodded to the same four officers who had recently discussed him around the same glossy table. "Karnas had the Federation hostages, and it was clear he would kill them unless he got his weapons."
His sharp eyes met Soriana's as he continued. "So I gave him what he asked for. Enough firepower to decimate his rivals. And then, in my own interpretation of the Prime Directive" (Soriana felt Picard's anger spike at that) "I have the same to each of the other factions. More than enough for the bastards to blow each other to hell."
Data, stated, in his flat tone, "You did not include any of this in your after-action reports."
"Of course I didn't. Nobody wanted to know." He ran hands through hair that was increasingly running to brown rather than grey. "Our unofficial orders during that time were clear. Safeguard Federation lives, no matter what - and if you have to act in the shadows, make sure not to leave footprints. I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought."
"Nobody suspected for forty-five years," Yar quipped. "For what that's worth to you."
"Not much, considering we're right back where we started." Jameson's attention was on the captain now. "There are no dissidents. Karnas himself has the hostages, Picard. This is a repeat of my mission from forty-five years ago. Only this time we can do it right: ambush him and take the hostages by force, before he has a chance to react."
"I'm afraid that can't be your decision any longer," Captain Picard stood with grim finality. "Admiral Mark Jameson, I must relieve you of this mission and place you in ship's custody pending a court martial, on the charge of grossly violating General Order One." As the Admiral got to his own feet, Picard added, "I'm sorry for this. But we really have no choice. To do otherwise would to be complicit in what you did."
"I'll stand trial for my mistakes, yes, but not now," Jameson urged. "I'm the only one who knows Karnas and Mordan. I'm the one who can get those innocent people home."
"Maybe so," Picard admitted, "but the truth is, Admiral, that you failed your last mission on Mordan."
"The hostages were returned safely," Jameson insisted.
Soriana replied, "In exchange for weapons, which any officer in Starfleet could have done were that an acceptable answer." She looked hard at the ambassador. "No, you were sent to find a solution that saved the hostages without arming the factions. You failed."
With a defiant glare, Jameson had the last word: "We will see if you can do any better."
*****
"They have made their position unambiguously clear," the face of Governor Karnas said on the viewscreen. "Jameson only. No delays, no excuses."
"Admiral Jameson is being held pending a court martial," Captain Picard explained. "We have discovered his role in arming you - and your enemies - during his prior mission to Mordan."
Karnas laughed out loud. Soriana wished she had a way to sense his emotions, but they were still twelve hours away at moderate warp; no focusing crystal could bridge that distance (not without a pre-established link, anyway).
"Your farce won't protect him, captain. You expect me to believe that Starfleet knew nothing of his arrangements; that only now, when it's convenient for you, do you take him into custody?" The governor shook his head. "No. I will have him here in front of me, if your people are to return home alive."
Soriana spoke up, "So, what Jameson suspected is true. There are no dissidents. You have the hostages, don't you, governor?"
"I will send you the coordinates," Karnas ignored the question. "You have fourteen hours to have Jameson there. That is all." The channel closed.
*****
The Admiral wasn't considered a danger to the ship; other than having his authorizations revoked, it was sufficient to station an ensign outside his quarters. Soriana felt the young man's boredom as she, the captain, and Doctor Crusher entered.
Anne Jameson made sure there were seats for everyone in the sitting room of the spacious quarters. The Admiral looked barely forty, now, but he also looked as though he hadn't slept in days. Crusher drew a vial of blood and scanned his head and chest as Picard and Turhal took seats.
"Karnas isn't budging," Mark Jameson assessed. "He's threatening the hostages if I'm not at the meeting." Soriana felt how focused the admiral's mind still was on Mordan's governor and the events transpiring there.
"We've made it clear to him that you're in custody, but he seems to think it a ploy," Picard shared. "We have no leverage, and no reason for Karnas to trust us." The captain implied, not so subtly, that the blame for this could be placed squarely at Jameson's feet.
The admiral smiled. "There's no room for negotiation, because you have exactly one thing that he wants. Me." His gaze shifted from his wife, to the doctor, to Soriana, and back to the captain. "We've lost the element of surprise. You should just admit what this really is, and carry on with it."
"What's that?"
"A prisoner exchange." He powered through his wife's own frown. "The hostages for me. Karnas will jump that the chance."
"Turn over a Starfleet officer to a foreign power?" Picard asked incredulously.
"Sir," Soriana considered. "Admiral Jameson does actually meet the parameters for a war crimes extradition to an affected planet."
"What?" Picard asked.
"There's a provision in Federation law," Soriana explained, "that allows a Federation citizen who deliberately took actions resulting in loss of life on a non-Federation world, to stand trial under the laws of that planet. A Starfleet officer who violates the Prime Directive is one of the cases where this is allowed."
"Allowed, but not required," Picard clarified.
Soriana shook her head. "It would be under your discretion, for a crew member and violation under your command. Quite a bit more ambiguous for an admiral - technically a commanding officer himself, if not for the arrest - and violation from forty-five years ago."
Jameson asked, "And if the prisoner consents to the extradition?"
"Mark, no!" Anne yelped.
The man stood and wrapped his arms around his wife, their apparent age disparity making them look more like a man with his grandmother than a married pair. "Annie, please. I need to answer for this myself, and not make others pay for it." His wife was still sobbing when Jameson announced, "Captain, if you'll allow it… I'd like to go."
*****
Captain's log, stardate 41310.1. After a very brief stay, we leave the planet Mordan. The Federation hostages have been recovered from Governor Karnas, although he took quite some convincing that the man he received in exchange was really Mark Jameson. Karnas was cautioned that the admiral may not survive long in his youthful state, and Anne Jameson has remained with her husband to care for him. I only hope that those two adversaries can make some strides toward laying to rest the ghosts of that long-fought war.