CHAPTER TWO
Captain Jean-Luc Picard was waiting for Riker as the runabout came to a halt in the Enterprise's shuttle bay. A security detail came from behind the captain. They took the Maquis crewmember to the brig. Beverly Crusher, the Chief Medical Officer, was also there. Riker had informed the captain as they approached that Troi was injured, and as Riker helped Troi out of the runabout, Crusher could see she was needed. She ran her medical tricorder over both of them. "I want both of you in Sickbay now," she ordered, and began to follow them out of the shuttle bay.
As they passed Picard, he turned to follow, but Riker stopped him. "We have one more passenger. Without him, we wouldn't have gotten out of there," he said. The way he smiled when he said it instantly got Picard's attention. He slowly headed toward the runabout. As Crusher was equally intrigued, she stayed by the exit, and was in no hurry to rush Riker and Troi along.
Just as Picard reached the runabout, Apollo emerged from the craft. Picard's eyes instantly widened in recognition. "Merde," he said softly. It was all he could manage to say.
Apollo smiled softly. "Greetings. I understand you're the captain of this ship." He extended his hand. "I'm..."
"Apollo Racer. The Apollo Racer."
Apollo's smile broadened. "Uh, actually, I don't recall my title ever being The. I did go by Captain at one time or another. Come to think of it, I don't recall there ever being any other Apollo Racers, either."
Crusher shooed Riker and Troi to Sickbay and walked over to Picard. "Jean-Luc, who is this?"
Picard looked at Crusher incredulously. "This... this is Captain Apollo Racer. He was... is a legendary Starfleet officer. I read about him in my history course at the Academy."
"Oh, please," Apollo said, a little disturbed, "don't tell me they've got a chapter about me in the texts. I don't even want to think about how old I am." He stood there and pondered for a moment, then added, "On second thought, I am that old, aren't I."
Crusher did a scan of Apollo. Picard was taken a little aback, but Apollo stood there amused. She was staring intently at the readings. "That's strange," she said. "He's not reading as human. In fact, I'm not getting much of anything that makes sense."
Apollo chuckled. "I should hope not. I haven't really been human for a long time."
Picard was still awestruck by the moment. He thought at first that he shouldn't. After all, he's met his share of legends in the past... Ambassador Spock, Captain Scott, and Captain Kirk. But each time, the experience was never dulled. "But... what happened to you?"
Apollo turned to face Picard and gave a smile that was innocent, yet foreboding. "Something wonderful," was all he said.
~ * ~
As soon as Apollo had been assigned quarters, he had discarded his robe in the quarters assigned to him. He now wore only a jet black, form-fitting jumpsuit, and was taking a short tour of the ship. It amazed him that he could just feel the power that throbbed through the vessel's veins, and thrummed like a thing alive. He had stopped by Engineering, where he met an interesting person. The Chief Engineer, a Geordi LaForge, had bionic eye implants. LaForge had explained that he once wore a visor that enabled him to see, but that his new implants did the same things his visor did without the discomfort. He was a little reluctant at first to show Apollo around the department, remembering the time he spent with Captain Scott. But Apollo proved himself quick to pick up concepts, which gave LaForge reason to believe he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the updated technology.
Stellar Cartography was another thrill for Apollo. Instead of a room filled with screens that just showed star charts, as he had on the Valiant, instead he stood out on a gantry in the middle of a vast chamber completely filled with a holographic representation of explored space. He watched as the technician on duty charted ship deployments and spatial anomalies. The first indication he got that anything was wrong was when he asked about the strange red symbols they were tracking. The moment she mentioned enemy movements, he received a chill up his spine. He now looked at the graphics in a different light, and he didn't like what he saw. He smiled, excused himself and thanked the tech for her help, and left the chamber.
The turbolift doors opened, depositing Apollo onto the bridge. Instantly, he could tell the differences between his ship and this one. The colors here were darker, but the lighting was more aesthetically placed. Each station was positioned in a way that the captain could more or less have eye contact with each officer. The helm and navigation positions had been separated; they still faced toward the main viewscreen, which Apollo immediately noticed was another holographic projection, but they were angled slightly inward. There were two extra positions on either side of the elevated captain's chair. Riker was sitting in the one to Picard's right, looking better than he had when they arrived. Apollo made a mental note to visit Sickbay while he was aboard, to see how medical science had advanced.
Another thing Apollo noticed were the uniforms. While Apollo was fond of the black pants and red jacket he used to wear, he also liked the new styles. They kept the pants, though they were differently styled, but now the tunics were black with gray ribbed shoulders. From what he could see, the shirt worn underneath denoted the person's department. He smiled inwardly that they went back to the basic color schemes he saw when he was in the Academy; but he looked again, and something was wrong. Picard and Riker were wearing red shirts, but they were obviously Command personnel. He immediately realized that, since he remembered seeing Crusher, and she still wore a blue shirt, Command and Support must have switched colors. He chuckled as he joked to himself that someone who must have been a security guard actually made it to admiral, and out of a fit of revenge, switched the color schemes so the gold shirts could get killed for a change.
He snapped out of his introspection when he suddenly realized that Picard had noticed him, and was calling to him. By now, every eye was focused on him. He raised his eyebrows at Picard.
Picard smiled. "I said, welcome to the bridge, Captain."
The person at the position that Apollo thought was the helm raised a finger to Picard as though he were about to point something out to Picard. It turned out that Apollo was right. "Excuse me, Captain, but technically, Mr. Racer is no longer in Starfleet. He entered inactive duty on stardate 9741.8. After an established point in time, according to Starfleet regulations, he would be presumed dead, and his rank retired."
Apollo's eyes widened. If he were the captain, and one of his crew questioned him while on the bridge, he or she would have gotten a severe reprimand. As it was, Picard turned to the person with an expression that looked as though he had gone through this routine several times before. "Data..." Picard began, a little wearily, from the sound of it.
Apollo decided to head Picard off and save this crewmember from the perceived tongue-lashing. "Ah, Mr.... uh..." he glanced at Picard, "Data?... I believe it also states in a subparagraph of that very reg that if it is proven that the officer was merely missing and not killed, he could be reinstated upon his return. Am I correct?"
The pale officer stopped and looked for all the world as though he just spaced out. Then, he said, "Yes. You are correct. It is a little-used clause, considering that very few Starfleet officers who were declared missing have been found alive."
"Ah, aha," Apollo said, wondering if he had just been insulted. "Well, Captain, I think I should resolve this matter, and then, I need to speak with you."
Picard nodded. "Of course."
"Computer," Apollo said, addressing the air in front of him, "match voice print with archival records on Racer, Apollo A., Captain. Last known status: Inactive. Authorization code Racer Kappa 1 Echo."
The computer chirped and whirled, indicating it was processing. Finally, it said, in a distinctly feminine voice, "Voice print match. Pattern belongs to Racer, Apollo A."
He smiled and looked at Picard. "Would you mind sending a record of the match to Starfleet, along with my request to be reinstated to active duty?"
"Of course, Apollo," Picard could barely hide his elation.
"And now, for that other matter."
Picard gestured. "We can speak in my Ready Room." He headed toward a door on the far side of the bridge.
Ready room? Apollo mouthed the words as he thought them, but followed Picard through the door.
Picard's Ready Room was a comfortable little office set off from the bridge. He had a viewport that looked outside the ship. Stars streaked by, distorted by the effect of warp speed. The room itself was done in shades of light brown. Taking up an entire wall was a collection of gold ship models. Apollo could recognize the first three models, a Constitution-, Enterprise-, and a modified-Excelsior-class ship, to be precise. The last ship in line he recognized as the current Enterprise, but only because it was logical to include it in the collection. He had also seen it as the runabout approached it, too.
"Small room," he remarked to Picard. "Not much space."
Picard nodded solemnly. "I liked my last one," he said. "Much more room to move about."
Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Your last one?"
"Yes. On the Enterprise-D." He looked at and pointed out the fifth ship in the collection. "Unfortunately, it was lost in the line of duty."
"A shame. But if I had to lose my ship, I wouldn't lose it any other way." As he said this, his face took on a haunted expression, as though his statement hit closer to home than he would have liked Picard to see. Suddenly, his head snapped up to look squarely at Picard. "Why are we at war, Captain?"
Picard suddenly grew serious. "Apollo, I don't..."
"Bullshit! Don't you dare tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. Just because I was gone doesn't mean I was out of touch!" He paused, trying to make sure what he just said made any sort of sense. When he was satisfied it did, he continued. "I was in Stellar Cartography earlier today. The officer there was tracking our ships and ships she admitted were of the enemy. And I saw more of their ships than I saw of ours. Now, do you want to keep trying to leave me in the dark, or do you want to tell me just what the hell is going on?"
Suddenly, Picard could see why Apollo was so effective as a leader. His willingness to get answers and his determination to get things done were not something of which one wanted to get in the way; Picard noticed it especially by the hard edge to Apollo's glare. The glowing blue eyes didn't help much, either.
Picard took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone. "We are at war with an organization called the Dominion. They come from the Gamma Quadrant, and their attitude toward us at first was that they didn't want us going into their territory. However, the leaders of the Dominion, the Founders, wanted to ensure that we didn't. So they formed an alliance with the Cardassian Empire here in the Alpha Quadrant. Together, they intend to take over the Alpha Quadrant."
Apollo's eyes reduced to slits. "I've been there, and I didn't encounter any Dominion while I was there."
"You were in the Gamma Quadrant?"
Apollo shrugged. "Yeah, well, when you've got about seventy-five or so years to kill, you tend to travel a lot. And you'd be amazed at the things I've seen. I ran into this nasty-looking race, a bunch of pasty-faced cyborgs. They wanted me to join them, but I didn't like their dress code. What did they say they were? Bored? Well, they sure acted bored. I mean, I've had more fun watching grass grow than it seems they've had."
Picard was startled with recognition. "The Borg," he whispered.
Apollo snapped his fingers and pointed at Picard. "That's what they called themselves. The Borg."
"You encountered the Borg? By yourself? And survived?"
"They kept wanting to... uh... assimilate me. I had to show them I wasn't too keen on the idea. Do you realize how hard it is to blow one of their ships up?"
Picard smirked. "We've... uh... had our own share of experiences with the Borg. So you managed to destroy one of their vessels?"
Apollo nodded. "Oh yes. Several, in fact. They really got me pissed when they destroyed my ship. That's when I really started tearing them apart."
Picard sat in his chair and crossed his arms, clearly being amused and starting not to believe him. "Is that so? Tell me, what did you use to 'tear them apart,' your bare hands? Or did you have a spanner wrench?"
Apollo's face took a decidedly dark appearance. "You don't believe me."
Picard straightened up. "I did not say that..." he said.
"Yes. You did. I can prove it."
"You do not need to..."
Apollo placed his hands on Picard's desk and leaned over it, looking for all intents and purposes like a predator. "I will prove it."
By an unseen force, Picard was knocked back into his chair. His eyes grew large as suddenly, in his mind, he saw images that could only have been from Apollo's point of view. Images that showed him crashing through Borg ship material. His vision was tinged by what looked to be a blue glow. At seemingly random intervals, he would be blinded by a sharp blue light, only to then see twin beams of energy streak away from him to disintegrate large portions of the Borg superstructure. He would then see space for a moment, followed by a disorienting change of view. The remains of the Borg ship whipped into view just as it blew apart.
Picard was shocked back into reality. Apollo was still staring at him. Picard stood up, grasping the side of his chair for support. "What... what did you... what did you do..."
"You just witnessed one of my memories, Picard. Would you like to see another one?"
Picard shook his head. "No! No, that won't be necessary."
"Good. I'm glad I could convince you. Now, back to this war. You mentioned something about this Dominion being teamed up with people called Cardassians? Who are they?"
After Picard had fully regained himself, he picked up a padd on his desk and handed it to Apollo. Apollo studied it quizzically for a moment, until he accidentally tapped a button and a report appeared on the small screen. "Amazing," Apollo muttered. Then he noticed a picture of an alien on the screen. "Who is this?"
Picard leaned over to look. "That is Gul Damar. He is a Cardassian, and leader of their military."
Apollo studied the picture. "Hmmm... Ugly lookin' snake, isn't he? Just by looking at him, I know I could only trust him as far as you could throw him."
"As far as I could throw him? Don't you mean as far as you could throw him?"
"No. Actually, I could throw him pretty far."
Picard let out a sigh of exasperation. "The point is, this is with whom we're at war."
"Ah, aha. That's all I wanted to know, Captain." With that, he walked out of the Ready Room. Picard quickly followed.
"Captain," Riker said as soon as he noticed Picard exiting, "we've received word from Starfleet Command." The first officer stood up and approached the two men. "They told us to stay on our present course. They're sending a ship to meet us at Deep Space Nine."
Picard looked puzzled. "A ship. Why?"
"They didn't say. Their orders were just that if we were absolutely sure that Apollo is who he says he is, then we were to make sure he gets to DS9." He turned to Apollo, extending his hand. "Oh, and they confirmed your reinstatement. Welcome back, Captain." Riker flashed Apollo a smile.
Apollo shook Riker's hand. "Thank you, Commander. It's been a while since I've officially been called that. How long until we reach... uh... Deep Space Nine?"
Data spoke up. "At present speed, we should reach Deep Space Nine in 7 hours and 43 minutes."
Apollo smiled at Data. "Very well, that gives me a chance to get some sleep. It's been a busy day." He bounded up to the turbolift and disappeared inside as the doors closed behind him. The two officers stared after him. "Quite an individual," Riker said with a grin.
Picard, however, was more concerned. "You don't know the half of it."