Chapter 5

Beverly got up and walked over to the table with the long sheet of paper. "This is a very large paper," she observed sounding a bit puzzled. "I know you replicated it, but it's just odd to see such a thing."

"Actually in ancient times such things were referred to as pieces of paper," he corrected her.

"I see...well, my point is that it's a really big piece of paper for such a small drawing, Jean-Luc."

"It's part of ...a mosaic of sorts. The drawing is unfinished."

"Why is this artifact so important to you?"

"The story fascinates me. Aside from that I cannot say."

"So you've identified it...you know its history?

"Not exactly," he admitted. "But I believe I am close to confirming it's source. If I'm correct it could be of immense value to uncovering a lost bit of Romulan history.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Romulan?"

He smiled. "Or Vulcan, depending on how you look at it. If I'm right, it is so ancient that it belongs in a sense to both cultures."

She searched his eyes. "It's the not knowing that is holding you so rapt by this object...isn't it?"

He didn't answer, but nodded slightly, his eyes now seemed lit from within. "So you do understand."

"I'm a scientist. So yes, I understand the way curiosity and even the process of discovery can capture your entire being, if you let it. It's happened to me before, certainly." She touched his face lightly. "But you can't let it get a hold on you," she said quietly. "Everything that has happened recently...well I can't lose you. I refuse to. Promise me you'll tell me if something about this...this object isn't right?"

He took her hand that had been resting on his cheek. "I promise."

Relieved at their understanding, she suddenly remembered something. "I have this friend...at Daystrom...Emil. Maybe he can help you authenticate it!"

His expression turned to one of subtle embarrassment. "Professor Emil Duchamps? I've already contacted him. However, I think it's unlikely he will respond if he knows you are calling on my behalf."

She looked at him with open surprise. "You know him? Why he's an old friend of mine."

"I do-or rather I did know him. We were friends until we were teens. We had a falling out."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really. Do tell."

"There isn't much to say. It was over a young lady."

She laughed. "I see. You stole his girlfriend."

He just stared back at her.

"You really did...oh. Well, I'm sure he's over it by now."

He gave an uncomfortable smile. "Unlikely. Besides, as I mentioned, he hasn't responded to my calls-"

"Shh." She put her hands on his shoulders. "Just let me do this for you. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, as she pulled him into a hug.

"Join me for dinner tomorrow night?" she asked. "I need to work with my trainees for the rest of today and tomorrow, but by then I think I'll want another break." She kissed him lightly on the lips. "And I'll want to see you before we reach the neutral zone."

He nodded. "That sounds wonderful."

After Beverly left he sat down at the table, sketching on the paper, before the lines began to blur and he became very drowsy. He put his forehead down on his arm just to rest his eyes, but the drowsiness seemed to drag him downward. As he descended into sleep, a tall hooded figure entered his dreams, just as he had every night for the past week. The figure stood very still, except that one hand was outstretched beckoning silently, the other clasping a staff of wood taller than himself. At his feet lay a shattered blade, which glowed red, but from which pieces were missing. "Come to me my servant," said the figure, pointing to the sand at his feet where the broken blade sat. "Study and learn."

He eagerly rushed forward and knelt down, desperately trying to memorize the patterns in the blade, and the two missing fragments.

"The scepter is nearly repaired. Confirm the piece in your possession is truly mine, and then travel to the land of my fathers where you will locate the final piece of this blade. Bring them both to me and you will be rewarded by a place at my side as we recapture what is rightfully mine. An army is awaiting us beneath the raptor's wings. All those who stand in our way must suffer. Do not hesitate to carry out my will, or everything you know and care for will perish in flames when I return."

"I understand," he heard himself say.

"Do you renounce Surak and the ways of logic?"

"I do."

"Then go forth and carry out your destiny."

When Jean-Luc woke up, he was lying face down on his living room floor. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, and he felt hungry and shaky. "Computer...time?"

"It is 0330 in the morning, Captain."

"What?" He got to his feet, and staggered, light-headed. He moved clumsily over to a chair and put his hands on the back of it, leaning his full weight on it. He felt nauseous and famished at the same time.

"It is 0330 in the morning," the computer dutifully repeated.

He rubbed his jaw and found a substantial amount of beard growth. Strange...he thought he'd only just fallen asleep. "What is today's date?"

"Stardate 43627.6"

He was still confused, felt out of place as though he didn't belong in the here and now. "When was Beverly Crusher last in my quarters?"

"Approximately 49 hours, Captain."

"Damn!" He saw his personal terminal was blinking green. He reached over to the computer and swiped his hand over it.

"You have sixteen new messages."

He fell into the seat, and began to scroll through them manually. The first one was from the Daystrom Institute:

Dear Jean-Luc Picard,

Your petition for examination of your purported Risan archaeological find has been accepted. Kindly bring your specimen to the Daystrom Institute, Suite 164E on Star date 43627.7 at 0930.

Regards,

Professor Emil Duchamps

His heart skipped several beats. Beverly had done it. But the appointment was tomorrow morning. How could he possibly arrive there in time?

"Computer, what is the current general location of the Enterprise?"

"The Enterprise is now entering the Federation colonies on the outskirts of the Romulan Neutral Zone."

He covered eyes with his hands, unable to fathom how he could have been unconscious for two whole days. And still, what nagged in the back of his mind was whether he would be able to reach the Institute in time. He pulled the artifact out of his pocket. A dull grey metal that glowed red in his mind's eye.

The next six were from Beverly. The first one was from more than 24 hours ago, when he'd been scheduled to have dinner with her in Ten Forward. He switched to visual, and her tired expression flashed onto the screen. "Hi, I hope everything's okay with you, Jean-Luc. I've been absolutely consumed with these new officers, and we've been getting some oddly mixed messages from the colonies we're headed to. Riker is speaking with Command about it right now. Anyway, I'm too tired to think, but I'd still like to see you tonight." She broke into a shy smile. "I'll see you around 1900 hours. I love you."

He skipped to the third message from her, which was in writing. "Honestly, what is going on with you? I thought you were just blowing me off, but I'm beginning to suspect otherwise. The computer says you're fine, but you won't answer your door. Have you changed the security codes? Call me, before I have Worf literally bust your door down."

He got up and ran toward his door, still light headed from lack of food and water. The door was shut, and remained so, even when he nearly ran into it face first. "Computer! Open this door immediately."

"Pursuant to Starfleet Security Order 219 issued fourteen hours ago, you are not permitted to leave your quarters."

He turned around slowly, and walked back to his terminal. He scrolled through the messages again, this time seeing one from Starfleet Security. "Jean-Luc Picard, you have been charged with the wrongful death of Risan citizen Havra Lander. Your crime will be prosecuted in a civilian tribunal on behalf of the Federation by Starfleet Security. You are hereby ordered to remain under house arrest until pick-up. It is in your interests to peacefully comply with this order."

Panic had not yet set in, and he felt oddly calm. They were coming for him. He had to think and act decisively. He stood up. "Computer, play the most recent message from Beverly Crusher. Audio only."

He closed his eyes and listened. Her tone was bitter, and he could tell she'd been crying, but had composed herself enough to record the message. "I have been instructed not to contact you...are you even there? Riker won't tell me a thing, he just buries himself in work. That's what we're all doing. It's almost a tribute to you, I suppose that everyone is focusing on the job at hand, just as we know you would. We're on radio silence with the colonies, and our other ships haven't heard a thing from them either. Is it some kind of Romulan trap?

In a few hours I'll deploy to the nearest colony with my teams and...and I have no idea what is going on, whether they will have arrested you by the time I return. There's nothing I can do right now, but I promise you I will fight for you when we get through this mission, Jean-Luc. I don't believe a word of what they are saying about you. And I never will-"

"Computer, end message," he whispered. His lips trembled, and he walked away, compelled to return to examine the drawing on his table. To his own surprise, the paper was now covered in hundreds of pieces which fit together in a puzzle, forming the shape of a heavy looking blade. He was surprised, and at the same time, he knew he had created this. There was only one thing to do. Beverly was correct. He hadn't done a thing wrong. But they were now hunting him. And that was why he had to escape.