Chapter 9

2369 Paris

"I don't know if I can do this, Will. Not if she's going to hate me even more."

Riker jiggled his son on his knee and sighed. "She doesn't hate you," he repeated for maybe the 20th time. Earlier that day, they had seen Beverly Howard in passing as she moved alone through a crowded plaza, and she had hesitated only briefly before continuing on without even a wave. Now, the small family sat inside a cramped cafe, attempting to eat lunch. Next to him, his daughter Ianna used a multicolored stylus to draw pictures on a datapad.

"It doesn't take empathic skills to recognize that Beverly is still very angry with me," she complained from across the table. "She's my best friend-aside from you, Will. I just can't bear to have things left this way between us anymore."

"Then one or both of you is going to have to do something about it," said Will.

Deanna poked at her salad for a few more moments, before waving down a waiter. "Excuse me. Could I please have a chocolate sundae?"

"There are no such things on this menu," the waiter answered somewhat dismissively.

Not one to be put off, Deanna said, "well, do you at least have a replicator somewhere that I can use?"

At that, the waiter stormed off, muttering a few things about replicators and space travelers that were not very kind.

"I guess they don't have replicators here."

Riker couldn't hide his irritation. "Honey...the hearings are closed session. Beverly won't know what you tell the council unless you tell her."

Deanna looked up in surprise as the waiter returned with the ice cream sundae she had requested, and placed it down in front of her. Deanna clasped her hands to her chest and closed her eyes almost reverently. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank the replicator," he replied, walking away.

Riker watched his wife, now thoroughly distracted by the chocolate in front of her, and pressed on. "We both need to do this." He leaned in. "We need to do it for Jean-Luc. You know it was always just assumed that he said to hell with his friends and family and took off. Even I thought so...but what if there's more to the story? What if...?"

Deanna looked at him sympathetically. "You miss him, don't you?"

He looked away and then kissed the top of his son's head. "Yeah."

"You don't mind testifying, do you?" She asked softly.

"No. For some reason...I guess I'm not worried. I mean, I have no idea where he is, so there won't be much for me to say. But I also...I hope they find him."

"I'll try and share your optimism, Will. But I cannot believe they dragged us from the middle of nowhere just to have us tell them what they already know."

2369 Labarre, France

Marie Picard finally let Beverly go. It was the longest hug anyone had given Beverly recently, and it was less awkward than she had anticipated; pleasant even. Marie was a lovely woman, but it had been some time since they had spoken, and Beverly had been so preoccupied with the message Marie had left for her, that she now felt dull and almost frozen in place. Marie held Beverly's face gently in her hands. "What a beauty. Jean-Luc knew he was lucky."

Beverly allowed a brief smile but wasn't sure how to reply. "Um...how is Robert doing? You said he was in a fight-"

"He's resting. Doesn't want to talk to anyone nowadays."

"That man who stayed with us for weeks took advantage of the fact that we missed Jean-Luc, and lied to us! Robert was so furious that he beat the man senseless-well very badly at least. He fled on foot and never returned. We wanted to alert the authorities but feared repercussions because of what Robert had done."

Beverly twisted her hands anxiously. "What was the man like?"

"He was very brash, very charming, and told the most outrageous stories."

Q.

"They were probably all lies, but he told us he was Jean-Luc's friend. He just seemed to have an endless well of knowledge. We clung to the hope I suppose that he would tell us the truth about where Jean-Luc disappeared to-"

"He didn't disappear," Beverly cut in sharply. "He left." She took a shaky breath. "I hate to break it to everyone, but he left because what we had to offer him just wasn't enough anymore."

"Oh! My dear, you cannot truly believe that!"

"I do," Beverly said, withdrawing her hand from Marie's grasp. "I'm sorry, Marie...but you said there was something important for me to see here."

A shadow of fear passed over Marie's face. "Someone came a few days ago."

"Who?"

"A slim blond man, very strange and slightly unpleasant."

"What did he want?"

"He wanted to see Jean-Luc's room."

"And you let him go in there?"

Beverly brought a hand to her chest, suddenly feeling personally violated. That bastard Talbot had insinuated himself into Jean-Luc's family home, and even his childhood bedroom. What was his game and what had he been looking for?

"I felt I had no choice...he said he was on business from Starfleet Security. He took holos of everything."

Beverly wiped a tear from her eye. "Can you just show me what you wanted me to see?"

Marie took her arm. "Of course, dear."

They walked to the back of the house and then single file up the cramped staircase, she had only traversed a handful of times.

"I have to warn you, I haven't had time to clean it since Jean-Luc's so-called friend was here. He trashed poor Jean-Luc's room. No concept of basic hygiene or manners, but kept declaring that he was a genius." Marie opened the door almost cautiously. There was a mustiness that hadn't been present before, and dust floated in the air, illuminated by the sunlight from the large picture window. Marie had been right, there was trash everywhere, left no doubt by Q. But there was an old desk, and an antique dresser that had been rummaged through. Beverly felt rage swelling up inside her. But when she looked up her breath caught in her throat. She saw now that the ceiling and walls were covered in diagrams, writing and hand-drawn pictures of star systems, nebulae, and other celestial objects. It was too overwhelming to take it all in, but she felt she needed to record it. "Do you mind if I-"

"Of course, please take as many pictures as you want to."

"Who did this?"

Marie smiled gently. "Jean-Luc did. He stayed with us for a few weeks just before he left. You two had split up, and...well he said he needed to 'map things out'." Marie walked to the wall where there were several bright spots, that Beverly thought at first were supposed to be stars, but they were oddly shaped and were distinguished from everything else.

"He was obsessed with these drawings, and I think his friend was too. He repeatedly said that the drawings were too stupid for him to comprehend and that Jean-Luc's brain had been damaged from spending too many years as a human." Marie pointed into the room. "Whatever Jean-Luc was trying to do here...it was important."

"Did he say anything about why he drew all of this?"

"The day he left, I will never forget. Because Robert in typical fashion refused to say goodbye. Jean-Luc told me that this-all of this was the future. He said that if something wasn't done to stop him, the future would be lost."

"Stop who? Who was he talking about?"

"He never would say."

Orion Territory

Marco adjusted his navigation controls, and glanced at the small transfer chip in his hand, before slipping it into the terminal. He'd scoped out the mining vessel, and had even considered stealing it. It was larger and far superior to his own ship, but he also had a feeling that someone would be returning to retrieve it. They would find the dead miners and destroyed equipment and wonder who had done the hit job. Marco wasn't interested in being chased down by a small fleet of ships, so he didn't steal the ship or even the supplies that were on board, even though he had been tempted to do so. The only thing that Marco took from the ship was information. He retrieved information about where the ship had traveled from and found to his surprise that the navigational hub also included a map indicating where the ship's crew had intended to travel to next before they had met their grisly fate. Another class M planet to mine? Marco decided he would take a chance and investigate further.

As he set the course for his little ship, his thoughts returned to the masked assassin he had encountered. Clearly an expert executioner, the person had left Marco alive. Marco was grateful but also wondered just why he had been spared.

"Are you working with Caine?" The synthesized voice had questioned him. Marco had believed that Caine had been imprisoned for Tasha Yar's murder. Perhaps Marco had been wrong, or Caine had been released. Either answer was a problem. The implied threat had been: if you're working for Caine, I'll kill you. Finding the dead miners then raised the question, had they been working for Caine? If so, what was Caine mining? He wasn't a miner by any stretch of the imagination. Besides murder, Caine had one thing he was good at, and that was running an expansive criminal syndicate.

One thing that Marco knew for a fact, was that he wouldn't have many chances to spy on Caine if Caine was now out there wreaking havoc again. There would be a point when it wouldn't be safe anymore because Caine would find out, and then Marco would be a hunted man. Marco's instincts to drop Seth off with Guinan had been right. But now something else needled him. If Caine was back and amassing an army of ships, Marco needed to let someone know; preferably before Caine realized he was on to him.

All of a sudden, his ship was jostled violently, and Marco nearly was thrown from his seat. Grabbing the safety restraint he nearly never used, the ship was bumped again.

Perimeter alert, said the computer.

"No shit," Marco shouted back, trying to steady the ship. He'd been bumped off course. But checking the scanner, he could see no asteroids, ships, or other objects in his vicinity. "What hit us?"

Unknown.

Eventually, he was able to get the ship back on course. But that only lasted for a few short minutes. The ship was bumped again, and this time, it spun out of control. He cut the engines and was able to right the vessel, just as he heard an unexpected sound. It was a transporter beam. Grabbing for his pistol, he took cover behind a console, as the intruder beamed into the cramped hold.

The blue swirling transporter beam quickly coalesced into the figure of the assassin. Armed only with a short staff this time, the lithe figure stood very still. "Hand it over." The stranger held out an open hand, palm up. "Come on, don't play dumb. Give me the navigation disc you stole from that ship."

Marco placed one hand on the back of the pilot's seat, while his other hand gripped the weapon, still pointed at the masked intruder. "No."

"I was hoping to avoid violence this time," said the robotic voice. Still, there was something almost melodic and deliberate about the voice of the person speaking. He was sure now that underneath the sleek black metal was a person.

Marco laughed, but nervous sweat ran down his back.

"Really? I saw what you did back there. You murdered that entire crew."

"Murder..." The black-clothed individual tapped the staff on the deck twice, and the lower end lit up in blue. Marco gripped his gun tighter as the strange being continued to speak with slow confidence. "Murder is a moral judgment. Morality complicates what is in fact, so simple."

"I'm simple...and I still don't get it."

The black metal faceplate tilted towards him almost condescendingly. "They had to die...so that this galaxy can live."

Against his better judgment, Marco dropped the weapon to his side. "Who are you?"

The assassin didn't reply, but silently tossed a small glowing cube at Marco, and he caught it.

"What is this?"

"Crucial information. Bring it to Starfleet."

"Why Starfleet?"

"Someone there should be smart enough to figure it out. And when they do, they'll be forced to act."

"You don't seem like a Starfleet type...I know because I'm not either."

"Careful, Marco. If you have anything in common with me, you'll be dead soon."

"We're not on a first-name basis, and I don't like to be threatened. Who the hell are you?" he demanded again.

"Enough questions." The intruder raised a black-gloved hand again. "Let's trade. I just gave you something important, now you give me the navigation disc. You're better off without it because the longer you have it, the more likely you are to die."

"Why do you care if I die?"

"I don't." The black staff suddenly flashed blue, and the intruder twirled it in his direction so swiftly, he couldn't move out of the way fast enough. Marco was encased in a paralyzing web of blue electricity and fell twitching to the floor, awake but unable to control his limbs.

The masked intruder tapped the staff on the deck again and it deactivated itself and folded in half with a click. Walking quickly past the pilot's seat, the black figure leaned forward and fiddled with the navigational console for a moment, until apparently satisfied. The assassin knelt down beside him as if to offer a word of advice. "You think you are clever with this little investigation, Marco. Go home. Because the only thing you are going to find out here is death."

Numb, but still alive, Marco tried to shout obscenities at his attacker, but couldn't move his lips properly. He shut his eyes, but when he opened them, the transporter beam had activated again and the assassin was already gone. And as the beam faded, Marco began to develop a theory.