STARDATE 57898.7
The Enterprise was still on her journey to Vulcan, cruising at warp factor seven. It had been three hundred years since Zefram Cochrane had discovered how to fly a ship faster than the speed of light. Riker - Captain of the Federation starship Farrokh - sat in his old Number One chair where he spent many a time as Captain Picard's First Officer aboard the Enterprise. He remembered the song that Cochrane played aboard the Phoenix.
"It's like going on a magic carpet ride," Riker said to his mentor.
Picard smiled. "It's more than that, Will. It's like discovering all the wonders that you come across all your life." Picard was deep in thought as he saw star trails zooming by on the screen. "Will, why did you name your starship Farrokh?"
"It was the real name of one of my favorite Earth musicians, Freddie Mercury," Riker replied.
Picard and Riker engaged in an impromptu singalong. "GALILEO! GALILEO! GALILEO FIGARO!" Suddenly, Picard gasped as he had a momentary vision behind Borg eyes. He felt the remaining nanoprobes in his body seem to surge with electricity. Picard let out a groan and collapsed to the floor.
Riker pounced up, fear showing in his eyes. It had been a long time since he had seen his Captaim in this predicament. It was when Picard's artificial heart malfunctioned and had to be replaced. No, he was not prepared at the thought of almost losing his mentor - and his friend - again. "SICK BAY! MEDICAL EMERGENCY ON THE BRIDGE!"
Troi sprang to her feet, trying to decipher any feelings emanating from Picard as he laid unconscious.
"Deanna, what is it," Riker asked. "What do you sense?"
"Confusion," Troi replied. "Fear...and anger. And…"
"And what," Riker asked.
"I...sense another presence. I sense...coldness. Bitterness. And..." Troi's words were cut off as she saw a vision: millions of voices screaming out in agony and suddenly silenced. And standing at the altar of the dead were two figures dressed in all black. One was elderly with wrinkled skin and yellow eyes. The other was much younger with arched eyebrows and...pointed ears. "I have a bad feeling about..."
As Riker prepared to ask her about what she had a bad feeling of, the turbolift door opened. Chief medical officer Beverly Crusher was accompanied by two medics. Beverly kneeled down and ran a tricorder over Picard's entire body. "It's his nanoprobes again," Crusher said. "His spells are getting worse." Beverly looked at Riker. "Eventually, he will have another spell which will...kill him."
Riker heard a voice from the security terminal. "And when that happens," said a male Klingon standing well over 2.5 meters in height, "you will be expected to assume command, sir."
"I'm definitely not looking forward to that, Commander Worf," said Riker. As Dr. Crusher continued to scan Picard, Picard slowly regained consciousness. Riker breathed a sigh of relief as Picard opened his eyes. "Welcome back, my friend."
Picard looked at his surroundings and smiled at the beautiful face of his one-time lover, Dr. Beverly Crusher. "Thank you, Beverly. I wish there was a way to rid myself of these nanoprobes once and for all."
"Jean-Luc," Beverly said in a sweet and caring voice, "you know that the nanoprobes are forever linked to your electrical heart. Without those nanoprobes, your heart will stop working, and you will die."
Picard felt a wave of sadness wash over him. "I hate them," he said, his voice breaking with anguish. He wept openly, and his broke between sobs. "I hate what they did to me. I hate being forever linked to their fucking collective!" Picard stood up slowly. His voice suddenly took on a sense of bitterness and hatred. "I should have genocided their entire collective when I had the chance."
After a moment, Picard remembered the conversations that he had with Ambassadors Spock and Sarek. He remembered the mind meld that he shared with Sarek shortly before the death of the elder Vulcan. No, this anger was not logical. Picard softly said to himself, "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to…"
A voice suddenly spoke from navigation. "Captain," said Troi, "we are coming up on Vulcan."
"Reducing speed to impulse, sir," said the Bajoran helmsman.
Picard gathered his senses and took on his duty as normal. "Standard orbit, helmsman."
"Aye, sir," replied the helmsman.
"Commander Worf," Picard said while looking at the Klingon, "have Commander Sonal's quarters been arranged as according to Vulcan standards?"
"They have, sir," said Worf. "Ambient lighting had been adjusted. And...we have gifted him a Vulcan lyre."
"I always wanted to learn how to play one of those," Picard said with a smile.
A voice spoke over the intercom. "Captain, LaForge here. Transporter power at full capacity, sir. You may beam aboard Commander Sonal at your leisure."
"Thank you, Geordi. Will, Deanna, will you accompany me to the transporter room," Picard asked.
"With pleasure, sir," said Riker. The trio stepped in the turbolift. "Deck three," Riker commanded as the ship's computer lowered the turbolift to deck three. As the elevator stopped, the three exited and headed straight for the transporter room.
"I have a lock on Commander Sonal's signal, sir," said the transporter chief.
"Thank you, chief Long." Picard looked to the transporter. "Energize." Chief Long activated the transporter controls, and what seemed like a billion pixels of bright lights began to assemble. They merged into a humanoid shape and began to take on colors indicating humanoid flesh as well as outerwear. They could see the almost green-tinted flesh of exposed hands and an exposed face. Everything else was pitch black. Finally, the humanoid form was fully assembled. The Enterprise crew saw a tall, thin Vulcan wearing a black hooded robe.
The Vulcan stepped off the transporter pad and raised his hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, crewmen and officers of the Federation starship Enterprise. I am Commander Sonal." Sonal's voice was ice cold, showing no emotion. He was carrying in his hands a golden pyramid-like structure with various etchings and ancient hieroglyphics.
"Welcome aboard, Commander," Picard said. He extended his hand in friendship, and he was surprised at how quickly Sonal took to the greeting as Sonal took Picard's hand into his own and shook it. "I am sure you are in need of rest and meditation, so you may retire to your quarters and assume your duties tomorrow at 0930."
"Thank you, sir," Sonal said and walked down the hallway to his quarters with the small pyramid.
As he walked away, Troi gave him a questioning stare. Was he the one she saw in her vision? "Captain," Troi said with a tinge of fear in her voice, "there's something wrong with him. I sense anger and hatred."
"Deanna," said Riker, "can you sense who or what the anger and hatred is directed toward?"
Troi looked at Riker, and then she looked at Picard. "The Borg.."
