Act Four: "My Own Little Discovery"
Ambassador Worf – Son of Mogh – walked the along a stone path leading to the large Klingon Household that belonged to Chancellor Martok. Two Targs ran for him, the look of death in their eyes. When the arrived at Worf and began to snap and growl, Worf unleashed a howl that sent them into submission.
It also marked his entrance onto the land of Martok's home.
"Worf!" Martok shouted from the door, a toothy smile on his face.
"Chancellor," Worf greeted with a reserved grin.
Martok put his hand on Worf's shoulder. "Ah, Worf, no formalities. Not today."
"My apologies, Martok," Worf replied uncomfortably.
Martok laughed. "Worf! Come in! Come in! There is an important matter to discuss, but first, let us eat, drink, sing, and tell tale!"
After all that was finished, Martok got down to business. He had officially asked Worf to go on relief for the next fifteen days for a reason. Martok knew Worf well enough to know that it would take an order for him to go on vacation.
"Worf," Martok began, "we may have a problem."
"What do you mean?"
"We've been detecting unusual readings in Sector 1784. I'm asking you – unofficially – to investigate."
"Why me? Sector 1784 – that's near Federation space."
"You just answered your own question. I know that if it is the Federation, you can get yourself out of it."
"I . . . suppose I shall do this."
"Excellent!" Martok cried. "You leave tomorrow morning!"
***
The Enterprise made its way through the stars slowly. Impulse was strictly necessary for the next forty-eight hours for some reason. No one bothered to ask. No one even bothered to do anything . . . but wonder.
Wonder what they were doing. Wonder what was going on in the Cargo Bay. Wonder about the tightened security. Wonder about . . . anything and everything.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard was doing this as well. He wondered – now, in his most private of time – what he was doing here. What role was he playing now? And wondering – what was happening to his precious Federation?
After the incident with Ba'ku, he couldn't help but fear for its moral soul now. What was to come next, he mused? What now?
***
"There it is again!" LaForge exclaimed.
"What is it, Geordi?" asked Data, walking over as he friend was working at a station in Main Engineering.
"Holodeck Two keeps disrupting. Something is penetrating its data streams. I'm trying to isolate the penetration and identify what it is, but I can't get a clear answer from the computer."
"Here Geordi, let me try."
Data went to work, his fingers going faster than ever on the computer's keys; pumping out work and information with each stroke.
"I have isolated the disruption in Holomatrix."
"Good. Let's check it out."
The pair made way for the Holodeck. When they arrived, Data pressed a few keys on the control pad to display the disruption.
"I am filtering and materializing the disruption," Data said.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."
The Doctor – Voyager's Doctor – appeared before them. Except, this time, instead of the gray and blue uniform, he was wearing the blue and black uniform.
"What's going on here?" he asked.
"We were just about to ask you the same thing," said Geordi.
"Indeed," agreed Data.
"Who are you people?" asked the Doctor.
"What do you mean? We met earlier this week."
"No we didn't. I remember everyone I've ever met and I've never met you."
Data looked to Geordi. "Doctor, what is the last thing you remember?"
"Someone was going to reformat my program. A few modifications. And then I went off-line."
"Data, something isn't right here."
"I concur."
"I think we should tell the Captain about this."
"Agreed. In the meantime – Computer: isolate the disruption and save. End program."
The Doctor disappeared; looking quite confused before he did.
***
The Enterprise went to Warp Four, on a course that would take them ultimately to an X-Class Nebula. Very volatile and very dangerous. Picard didn't like it at all – which was becoming an increasing situation for him.
"We're entering the outer edge of the nebula," Paris reported.
"Take us to one quarter impulse," Picard commanded. "Unless the Admiral has any problems with that speed."
"Of course not, Captain," said Janeway, adding to the already tense air. She walked over to the science station, making sure that everything was correctly adjusted. No one was to be manning this station and all the data was to be sent immediately down to the Cargo Bay.
"Keep an eye on those Navigation sensors, Lieutenant Commander," Riker enforced.
"Aye, sir. I've got it under control."
"See that you do. I just don't want any trouble."
Paris sighed heavily. "Of course sir. No trouble at all."
"Make sure of it."
Just then, a message came through to the Bridge. "Seven of Nine to Janeway. Prepare to stop the ship."
"Affirmative. Stand by," she replied. "Mr. Paris, full stop."
"Full stop, aye."
Picard looked out the forward screen. The nebula was extremely violent here. "What's going on here? Why have we stopped in this area?"
"Why Captain, that's classified. You know that."
"I'm well aware of that. But I will not have you place my crew and my ship in danger. Is that clear?"
"Captain Picard," Janeway began curtly, "this mission goes far beyond your ship and your crew, I have you know. And, just so you know, I will not put this ship or her crew in danger. I of all people know what it's like to value your ship and its crew. Do not question me on that again."
Picard locked and squared his jaw. Biting his tongue was getting harder by the second. "Understood . . . Admiral."
It's not like he had a choice.
Ambassador Worf – Son of Mogh – walked the along a stone path leading to the large Klingon Household that belonged to Chancellor Martok. Two Targs ran for him, the look of death in their eyes. When the arrived at Worf and began to snap and growl, Worf unleashed a howl that sent them into submission.
It also marked his entrance onto the land of Martok's home.
"Worf!" Martok shouted from the door, a toothy smile on his face.
"Chancellor," Worf greeted with a reserved grin.
Martok put his hand on Worf's shoulder. "Ah, Worf, no formalities. Not today."
"My apologies, Martok," Worf replied uncomfortably.
Martok laughed. "Worf! Come in! Come in! There is an important matter to discuss, but first, let us eat, drink, sing, and tell tale!"
After all that was finished, Martok got down to business. He had officially asked Worf to go on relief for the next fifteen days for a reason. Martok knew Worf well enough to know that it would take an order for him to go on vacation.
"Worf," Martok began, "we may have a problem."
"What do you mean?"
"We've been detecting unusual readings in Sector 1784. I'm asking you – unofficially – to investigate."
"Why me? Sector 1784 – that's near Federation space."
"You just answered your own question. I know that if it is the Federation, you can get yourself out of it."
"I . . . suppose I shall do this."
"Excellent!" Martok cried. "You leave tomorrow morning!"
***
The Enterprise made its way through the stars slowly. Impulse was strictly necessary for the next forty-eight hours for some reason. No one bothered to ask. No one even bothered to do anything . . . but wonder.
Wonder what they were doing. Wonder what was going on in the Cargo Bay. Wonder about the tightened security. Wonder about . . . anything and everything.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard was doing this as well. He wondered – now, in his most private of time – what he was doing here. What role was he playing now? And wondering – what was happening to his precious Federation?
After the incident with Ba'ku, he couldn't help but fear for its moral soul now. What was to come next, he mused? What now?
***
"There it is again!" LaForge exclaimed.
"What is it, Geordi?" asked Data, walking over as he friend was working at a station in Main Engineering.
"Holodeck Two keeps disrupting. Something is penetrating its data streams. I'm trying to isolate the penetration and identify what it is, but I can't get a clear answer from the computer."
"Here Geordi, let me try."
Data went to work, his fingers going faster than ever on the computer's keys; pumping out work and information with each stroke.
"I have isolated the disruption in Holomatrix."
"Good. Let's check it out."
The pair made way for the Holodeck. When they arrived, Data pressed a few keys on the control pad to display the disruption.
"I am filtering and materializing the disruption," Data said.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."
The Doctor – Voyager's Doctor – appeared before them. Except, this time, instead of the gray and blue uniform, he was wearing the blue and black uniform.
"What's going on here?" he asked.
"We were just about to ask you the same thing," said Geordi.
"Indeed," agreed Data.
"Who are you people?" asked the Doctor.
"What do you mean? We met earlier this week."
"No we didn't. I remember everyone I've ever met and I've never met you."
Data looked to Geordi. "Doctor, what is the last thing you remember?"
"Someone was going to reformat my program. A few modifications. And then I went off-line."
"Data, something isn't right here."
"I concur."
"I think we should tell the Captain about this."
"Agreed. In the meantime – Computer: isolate the disruption and save. End program."
The Doctor disappeared; looking quite confused before he did.
***
The Enterprise went to Warp Four, on a course that would take them ultimately to an X-Class Nebula. Very volatile and very dangerous. Picard didn't like it at all – which was becoming an increasing situation for him.
"We're entering the outer edge of the nebula," Paris reported.
"Take us to one quarter impulse," Picard commanded. "Unless the Admiral has any problems with that speed."
"Of course not, Captain," said Janeway, adding to the already tense air. She walked over to the science station, making sure that everything was correctly adjusted. No one was to be manning this station and all the data was to be sent immediately down to the Cargo Bay.
"Keep an eye on those Navigation sensors, Lieutenant Commander," Riker enforced.
"Aye, sir. I've got it under control."
"See that you do. I just don't want any trouble."
Paris sighed heavily. "Of course sir. No trouble at all."
"Make sure of it."
Just then, a message came through to the Bridge. "Seven of Nine to Janeway. Prepare to stop the ship."
"Affirmative. Stand by," she replied. "Mr. Paris, full stop."
"Full stop, aye."
Picard looked out the forward screen. The nebula was extremely violent here. "What's going on here? Why have we stopped in this area?"
"Why Captain, that's classified. You know that."
"I'm well aware of that. But I will not have you place my crew and my ship in danger. Is that clear?"
"Captain Picard," Janeway began curtly, "this mission goes far beyond your ship and your crew, I have you know. And, just so you know, I will not put this ship or her crew in danger. I of all people know what it's like to value your ship and its crew. Do not question me on that again."
Picard locked and squared his jaw. Biting his tongue was getting harder by the second. "Understood . . . Admiral."
It's not like he had a choice.