Chapter 4

Picard, The Diplomat

Stardate 2366.065

Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise solemnly regarded the Chairman of the planet Mirfak 4; the tentacles sprouting from the man's chin were currently quivering with rage and turning a quite shocking shade of purple. Picard had heard that the tentacles of the Mirfakians could change color according to mood, but he'd had no idea the transformation would be so drastic. The other members of the Governing Council arranged beside the Chairman at the round table atop the dais also sported tentacles of varying colors, but none so agitated as those of their leader.

"Mr. Chairman," Picard began, modulating his tone to project reassurance. "I appreciate your concerns, but I can assure you that although the Federation would very much like your system as a member, our aide to you in the matter of the Cardassian raids on your outposts is not contingent upon your joining. We have an inherent interest in promoting democratic governments such as yours, as we find these to be the most stable and best trading partners."

The Chairman's tentacles bristled as though he were a hedgehog preparing to let loose with his quills. "Captain, we hear your words, but it must be noted that we have heard them many times before from others interested in our dilithium deposits—the Cardassians chief among them. Always they are the first to extend a hand in friendship, promising us protection. And when we refuse, they set their thinly disguised raiding parties on us, trying to force us into accepting their 'generous' help! What assurances do we have that if we join your Federation, you won't just take what you want and then leave us to our own devices?"

Another member of the council, his tentacles pulsing a dark red, spoke up: "Yes Captain, I'm sure we would all like to hear of the many riches that will flow our way once we join the great Federation and you have unfettered access to our dilithium!"

Picard exchanged a look with Counselor Deanna Troi seated quietly beside him; she shook her head almost imperceptibly, indicating that this council member was one that would not easily be swayed to vote for membership in the Federation. Picard met the councilman's gaze and spoke the only way he could: truthfully. "Riches I cannot promise you. And I won't pretend your dilithium is not a valuable commodity that would be of use to the Federation. I can say, however, that the Federation keeps its promises. I would invite you to visit any of the member planets in the Federation to see for yourselves. We are not an empire that covets territory to enrich a home world; we are a free union of separate but equal societies that work together in peace and harmony for the benefit of all. Also, as you know, we have been freely sharing our technology with you for your sensor outposts and have not interfered with their independent operations. That is hardly the behavior of an organization bent on exploitation or domination."

Picard inhaled to continue, but before he could speak, he was cut off by a beep from his communicator. The tinny voice of Commander Riker emanated from the badge on his chest: "Riker to Captain Picard."

Picard's jaw tightened, irritated. He had left orders with the ship not to be disturbed during what he knew would be tense negotiations. But he also knew his Number One, and Riker would not have interrupted if it were not urgent. He tapped his comm badge to respond. "Go ahead, Will."

"There's a priority communication for you Captain." Riker's voice informed him.

Picard's eyes darted toward the waiting council. "Fine," Picard said. "Patch it through."

There was a long pause, and then Picard heard the hesitation in his first officer's voice: "I can't do that Captain. I have explicit orders to beam you directly to your quarters to receive the message personally. And privately."

"What?" Picard burst out. He saw the council members watching him and stood, turning his back to them as he continued more quietly. "That's ridiculous. I'm at a critical stage in the negotiations and—"

"I'm sorry, sir," Riker cut him off. "But my orders were very specific. Data do you have a lock on the Captain?"

"What in bloody hell is going—"

But with a shimmering beam of dissipating particles and a hum of energy, Picard was gone.

Deanna Troi was left alone, sitting across from the frozen council. They stared at each other, shocked.

Troi stood from her seat and took a placating step forward.

"I'm. . . I'm sure the Captain will be right back. Soon. As soon as possible. . ."

The Chairman burst up out of his seat, pounding the tabletop with his tentacles.

"This is an outrage! If this is how the Federation treats negotiations, then—"

But then there was another beam of light and symphonic hum, and Counselor Deanna Troi was gone as well.

"—in bloody hell is going on?!" Picard thundered. . . And found himself standing alone in his own quarters. He looked around, bewildered.

"Unbelievable!" he said out loud. "He's lost his mind."

"My fault, I'm afraid, Jean-Luc. Riker had very specific orders."

Picard whipped around to find himself face-to-face with Admiral Lucas Brown, second-in-command at Starfleet Headquarters. Or, not quite face-to-face: more face-to-screen, as Admiral Brown was looking at him from Picard's personal viewer.

"Admiral Brown," Picard said, quickly composing himself. "My apologies. I didn't see you there."

"No," Brown replied, clearly amused at having caught the notoriously cool Jean-Luc Picard off-guard. "Clearly not."

"I don't understand," Picard continued. "What could possibly be so important as to cut off negotiations with the Mirfakians so abruptly?"

"I know, Jean-Luc. Forging an alliance with Mirfak 4 and preventing its fall to the Cardassians is a top priority for the Federation. That we're willing to endanger that mission only tells you how important your next assignment is. I've sent coordinates to your bridge crew. We need you to get there fast. Warp 8. That's all I can tell you for now. Proceed immediately and observe complete radio silence. The science vessel Kepler will be waiting at your destination to relay additional orders. The commanding officer will have further instructions for you. You are to render him any assistance he requires. Further, and I was told to read this to you verbatim: 'The commanding officer of the Kepler's orders come from the highest levels of the Federation.' To give you some perspective Jean-Luc, my orders only came from the head of Starfleet, and I do not know the specifics of this mission. You are also not to share any information about what I've just told you with your crew."

"What information? You haven't given me any," Picard replied, barely suppressing his irritation.

"Then you shouldn't have any problem following your orders," Brown countered brightly. "Proceed as soon as this communication terminates."

"But Admiral, I still have work crews at sensor outposts around the system, I will need time to collect them," Picard protested.

"Leave them," Brown ordered. "We'll have the ship that replaces you in the negotiations with Mirfak 4 pick them up. You can rendezvous to retrieve them after your mission is complete."

"Lucas!" Picard burst out. "This is highly unusual. I'm not leaving my people—"

"Captain Picard," Brown cut him off, sternly. "Do you understand these orders as I have relayed them to you?"

"Yes, sir," Picard replied formally.

"Jean-Luc," Brown said, softening. "The Enterprise is our best ship, and you are our best Captain. That these are your orders only shows you the measure of seriousness of this mission. I personally was ordered to give you only the information that I have, and was specifically told not to tell you anything more. But we have every faith in you and your ship; we know you can handle it."

"Yes, sir," Picard replied. "Of course."

"You have your orders, Captain. Good luck." Brown leaned forward to cut off the communication from his terminal.

"Aye, sir," Picard began to turn away from the screen, but Brown stopped him.

"Oh, and Jean-Luc? When you drop out of warp. . . Go to red alert."

"Red alert, sir?" Picard asked. "Are we to expect hostiles?"

"No. Not necessarily. But red alert. Just in case. Brown out."

The screen went dark. Picard stared at it, mystified.

Picard exited the turbo lift and walked onto the bridge of the Enterprise.

"Mr. Data," Picard said, looking to the pale-skinned android stationed at the helm. "Have you received coordinates from Starfleet Command?"

"Aye, Captain," Data replied. "Coordinates input and course laid."

"Make it so. Warp 8," Picard said, going to the command chair as Commander Riker vacated it. Troi was already back in her own chair, and she exchanged a curious look with Riker as Picard approached.

"But Captain, we still need to pick up our people—" Riker began.

"I just had that conversation, Number One," Picard answered wearily, sitting down. "We have our orders.'"

"What the hell is going on?" Riker asked, his blue eyes flashing. "I've never heard of an admiral threatening a commander with a court-martial if he didn't beam his captain out of the middle of important negotiations. And I've never heard of a ship being ordered to just abandon her crewmembers. What could possibly be so urgent?"

"I can't tell you that, Will," Picard replied. "I can only tell you we have somewhere to be, and we need to be there fast. Mr. Data?"

"Aye, Captain," Data responded.

"Engage."

Picard waved a finger, and with a flash of her warp coils, the Enterprise left orbit and was gone in a streak of light quickly lost among the stars.