Chapter 26

Unnamed Moon

Former Captain Jean-Luc Picard stood with a gun dangling in his hand, and a pair of handcuffs, clad in the loose black jumpsuit Yar had given him. He shielded his eyes and stared upward as Yar's ship rocketed from the ground and disappeared quickly from view. He hadn't spoken to anyone in so long, that his trip with her in silence was, in a way quite normal for him. Of course, he had recognized her. How she had been resurrected this time, he did not know, but he was not surprised. Seeing her face gave him the first hint of hope he had experienced in a long, long time.

He had become so conditioned to being trapped in that prison, that he had no expectation that Yar or anyone else could actually save him from John Talbot. Until her appearance, Talbot had been stalking him inside of the prison. He hadn't paid Picard a visit in months, but it was clear that the game was over, and he had been ordered to kill Jean-Luc. Now here they stood.

After the departing ship winked into nothingness, he returned his gaze to the ground. He steeled himself to resist what was to come. Yar could not have been as familiar with Talbot as he was, or else she would have known that leaving him alone with Talbot was an error.

You are still my prisoner. You always will be until I end your sad life.

Yar had wounded Talbot; had shot him in the leg. Still, the voice he used was just as commanding as it had been. The voice pierced his mind with ease and forced him to lift his head to look directly at Talbot.

Put the gun on the ground and kick it toward me.

His resistance was so poor that within seconds he had done as Talbot commanded.

Come here.

Unable to keep his feet from moving, he stepped haltingly closer toward the man with the cold blue eyes.

Undo my restraints.

Jean-Luc found himself complying, and when Talbot was free, Jean-Luc stood there helplessly awaiting further orders.

There was a sudden burst of sound from the upper atmosphere, and a bright light could be seen. Talbot looked up quickly and then began fastening the restraints on Picard. He picked up the disruptor from the ground and holstered it.

Starfleet is here, responding to the beacon. Everyone is looking for the return of their hero. But you are not a hero, you are a failure and you are my prisoner. When questioned, you will tell them nothing except that you are guilty.

USS Excelsior

Beverly ran a medical tricorder over Walker's leg, pausing to record some input.

"How am I doing? Everything functioning properly?" He watched her with the same strange expression he had displayed since awaking from a coma.

Beverly had installed Walker's prosthetic legs following the return from the Q planet, and just before he lapsed into a coma. As a result of his prolonged unconsciousness, the cybernetic appendages had not been used.

"Everything looks great," she said patting him on the shoulder. "Now I need you to keep up with your muscle rehab though. Although the regeneration technology works very well, your own body has to do the work of getting readjusted to daily activities."

"I've been going for walks down at the Plaza," said Walker. "Feels great."

She squeezed his shoulder. "That's good. You still need to complete the exercises I've prescribed."

"I was hoping I would see more of you, Beverly. Maybe you'll take a walk with me sometime? "

She smiled tightly. "Sure."

"Somewhere where we can talk," he added.

"We can talk here," she said, turning to put the tricorder away.

"About my medical progress?" He laughed.

God... Walker, can't you see that's all I have to offer you right now? She just crossed her arms and watched him silently.

"No, I want to talk about you, Bev. And about our friendship."

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not much fun right now...not much in the mood for talking."

"I had noticed. Look...we'll find Wesley. At least it's his family who is going to find him and bring him home."

"Just like we found Jean-Luc?" She suddenly snapped.

Walker sighed and took her hand. "There's still time to find him."

"He's in a prison that was swallowed up by an anomaly. Nechayev all but told me Starfleet has given up on trying to find him."

He squeezed her hand tightly. "Don't lose hope, Bev. You can't. This is not like you."

Beverly's hand flew to her chest as though deflecting a blow, and she sucked in a painful breath. She had been holding this in for too long. A break down in front of Seth and Guinan, lashing out at Jack, and now this. I'm losing control. She tried to steady herself, closing her eyes. When she opened them she looked Walker directly in the eye. "You weren't here when Jean-Luc left us...left me. Again! After everything we had been through together, that sonofabitch!"

An uncomfortable silence descended on sickbay, as staff either halted in place or hurried nervously by. Now embarrassed that she had just made a huge scene in her own sickbay, Beverly tried to pull her hand from Walker's, but instead, he pulled her firmly into a gentle hug. Finally letting herself go, she sobbed into his shoulder. "I thought I would die when he left. I really did."

"Shh...I know." Walker held her for another few minutes before pulling away to look at her face. "For the record, I was still around. I didn't leave...I was just asleep for a long, long time."

She laughed and hugged him again, now less concerned about the people around her. When she straightened he was smiling at her in the kindest manner.

"Bev...I'm worried about you. I want to see you happy again."

She blinked and rubbed her eyes. "It's not that simple. I've changed, and not for the better."

He grabbed both of her hands in his. "You need to get your life back. Your purpose. Not for Wesley, Seth, Jack, me, or Jean-Luc...but for yourself."

She sighed and sat down on the edge of an exam bed. "Which one of my failed lives exactly should I be trying to get back to, Walker?"

Walker got to his feet and stared down at his platinum and white cybernetic legs for a moment before returning her gaze. "What would you say to him, if he was here?"

She laughed abruptly, shocked by the question. Walker didn't need to clarify just who he was referring to. "I don't know. Honestly, I have rehearsed it for so long, that I probably would stand there incapable of speaking to him at all."

He blinked slowly and then watched her closely.

Finally, she relented. "Alright," she said quietly. "I would ask him, 'why?'"

Once she was out of the sector and securely in Federation territory, Yar set the ship's new course. She removed her helmet and stared down at the console. An image from her past came to mind. She was losing focus, and it wasn't even due to the growing pain in her side. She got up slowly and stripped off her protective suit. Underneath she was sleek and strong, but still vulnerable. She stepped carefully into the regeneration tube and closed her eyes as warm air coursed over her body.

She had constructed the armored suit to prevent fatal injuries by energy weapons, and the regeneration chamber to aid in healing. However, since her confrontation with Caine, and exposure to a massive amount of radiation from his weapon, the wounds were slow to heal. Talbot had succeeded in shooting her and had struck her right side, where years ago she had been stabbed by a vengeful crew member. The pain of that wound remained, sometimes as though it was fresh, even as she forced many of the memories of that time to fade.

Seeing Caine, and then finding Picard had thrown her off. She needed to resume her search for answers. She needed to stop Caine from perverting something beautiful and pure. Caine wanted to kill and destroy, and the steps she had taken to stop him so far had not been enough. Not nearly.

Natasha Yar had fallen asleep. It was a rare event, but occasionally necessary, she had found. When she woke up, she pulled on her protective suit, leaving the helmet on the deck. But when the perimeter alert went off, she quickly picked it up and pulled it down over her face. She noted with irritation that she had left the cloaking device off, as it sapped energy from other important symptoms. She had left herself vulnerable and now might need to resort to violence to correct this issue.

The ship's computer barked a warning in Romulan: Unknown vessel approaching.

A trilling noise indicated that the alien vessel was hailing her. She didn't need to guess, as she knew the ship-to-ship communication protocols well. Starfleet.

USS Jemison

"The ship is likely of Romulan make, Captain, but it appears to have been heavily modified." Chief of Security Ashley Howell had been all business since the announcement of Tasha Yar's return from death. The Jemison had since traveled to Orion territory in an attempt to track down Yar, who was thought to have information helpful to the Federation.

Whether anyone besides Data noticed the similarity between the unidentified ship and a hundred similar Romulan scout ships that had landed on the Q homeworld. At least one had crash-landed on the planet, and although he did not have the information needed to conclude the origin of the ship, he did have sufficient information to postulate who was inside the ship.

"Run a full scan of the ship," Data said, staring at the main viewer.

"Scans are not completely effective, Captain," said Howell. "But the vessel's shields are down."

"As we have learned, this ship is equipped with modified cloaking technology," said Sovol. "Perhaps the ship's commander is...unconcerned by our presence."

The Vulcan science officer stood near the turbolift with a helmet under his arm, having put on an environmental suit. Under Starfleet regulations invoked during an emergency, Data had the authority to question ships passing through Federation territory. But certainly, the operators of such ships could object. Because Yar or someone who fit her description had placed a device onboard the Jemison to track it, Data decided as a backup plan, to charge her with espionage, which would allow him to arrest her if needed. This plan had been authorized by Vice Admiral Nechayev but presented a variety of risks.

While he was aware of the high probability of violence of some kind, Data would send his strongest, most reasonable crew member to converse with Yar, only if efforts to obtain answers from her failed. Sovol had proven himself to be a valuable crew member. While Data was aware that T'Sara and Sovol had been involved in a relationship, and until recently had been engaged to be married, Sovol had given little indication that he knew who Yar was. Data had little choice but to count on Sovol's abilities and logic to carry him through a possibly tense encounter with Tasha Yar.

"Lieutenant Commander, please proceed to the main transporter and wait for my signal."

He waited to hear the lift doors close before walking back to the command center and sitting down. "Hail them."

There was a slight delay before the alien ship's commander answered their communication.

The view was of a black featureless helmet; one he had seen before.

"Natasha Yar, I respectfully request a meeting with you," said Data.

The robotic voice held no emotion whatsoever. "You've made a mistake."

Cardassian Territory

Wesley Crusher floated in a void, safely inside his stolen runabout. His current position according to the readouts was just a few thousand meters from where he had left the Enterprise and shot past the Cardassian ship. The propulsion on his small ship had cut out, and the atmosphere surrounding the runabout did not comport with his scans and weeks of preparation for entering the Borg conduit.

"Damn it!"

Abruptly the navigational scanner began beeping loudly.

He leaned over the console and saw something that shouldn't have been there. His mouth went dry. "Computer, identify vessel located approximately 750 meters from this location."

Unidentified Starfleet shuttlecraft, Galileo class. Hull is intact, and systems appear functional.

Wesley stood up and pulled sweaty bangs away from his eyes. His breathing ragged, he felt like he was going to pass out. He grabbed a bottle of water and drank it down quickly, not caring that half of it spilled over his uniform.

He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and tried to stay calm even as he spoke the words, "Any life signs?"

Affirmative. One humanoid with strong life signs is present on board. Shall I hail them, sir?

"No," he said, slipping on an environmental suit and grabbing a phaser. "I'm beaming over there."

Wesley transported himself into the cramped interior of a Starfleet shuttlecraft with plenty of theories already forming in his mind. What he found still shocked him.

A man's figure lay hunched over the flight console, apparently unconscious. Wesley walked closer and his stomach flipped. Jean-Luc Picard was mostly bald and wore the command uniform of Starfleet Captain. He appeared different, a bit older, and yet his features were the same.

Now bathed in a cold sweat, Wesley confirmed the shuttle's atmospheric parameters were safe before removing his helmet with a hiss. The air was stale but breathable. From a distance of a few meters away he scanned the sleeping figure with a tricorder. His vital signs were completely normal.

What should I do? Should I wake him?

Suddenly, the communications console lit up and began to beep. Wesley approached cautiously and waved a hand over the console. Immediately, two words appeared on the small screen.

Hello, son.

Hi, thanks for reading and reviewing this story. Have a great weekend. -PP