Chapter 16

"Worf!" Troi shouted running toward him as he stepped out of the turbo lift. "Worf!"

Worf stopped short. "Yes Counselor?" It seemed somewhat late at night to be counseling the crew. And yet Deanna Troi seemed not only wide awake, but distraught as well. If she had insomnia, he could relate. Worf himself had been up exercising on the holodeck, unable to sleep after having been around so many treacherous Romulans earlier in the day. "Can I be of some assistance?"

"Yes!" She said grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the turbo lift. "We've got to get to the Captain. Something is wrong," she said breathlessly. "Deck Nine, Captain's quarters," she said to the lift.

Worf turned to glare down at Troi. "I am not…accustomed to interrupting the Captain in his private quarters, Counselor. What exactly do you need me for?"

"Security," said Troi looking up at him. "Trust me, Lieutenant, I wouldn't have asked for your assistance if I didn't think you could be of help."

Worf fixed his gaze on the turbo lift wall. There was a rumor that Doctor Crusher and Captain Picard were now involved. It was not surprising to Worf, but he did not want to embarrass the Captain by entering his quarters unannounced based simply on what Counselor Troi was…feeling. Would Doctor Crusher be there? "I am not armed," Worf suddenly blurted out. He looked down to find that Troi had been staring at him with a curious expression.

"Mr. Worf…I do not expect that you will have to shoot anyone," she said.

Worf straightened. "Good," he said, feeling somewhat relieved.

He heard the screams of a woman nearby and halted his charge toward the fortress. The shouting became louder. The sound of her voice was so familiar. The woman needed help. He couldn't see her anywhere, but the shouts continued. Should he stop to find her? He was hesitant to abandon his charge, knowing that his master desired him to complete the mission.

The voice of his master boomed down at him from the sky. "The Old King has stolen the person most dear to you...you must kill him if you want her to live. She is screaming for you to help her. You must kill the Old King and take his place," the voice commanded.

Beverly! The King had captured Beverly—that was what his master had said. Now desperate, he began to run again, began to climb the steps to the fortress, but then slowed his pace when he heard the shouts again. They were coming from right next to him not in the direction of the fortress. He couldn't see her, and tears stung in his eyes. Beverly?

Jean-Luc was murmuring something over and over in a language she could not understand. For the last few minutes, she had yelled his name too many times to count, but he was still unresponsive; locked in to whatever the artifact was making him do. Eventually, an idea came to her and she quickly left the bathroom, returning with her tricorder. With a shaking hand she put it down on the sink and then stepped back again. If she couldn't separate him from the tiny rock, then at least her tricorder would record what the Other was doing to Jean-Luc, and she could find a way to stop it.

She stopped shouting to him and shrank back against the wall, afraid to go near him for fear of what might happen to him if she tried to break the link he had with that sinister object. The fact was she didn't know what would happen. So she stood flattened against the wall watching him, when she heard the door to his quarters open and quick footsteps coming closer.

Within moments Troi and Worf stood at the door of the bathroom taking in the scene. Beverly glanced at them, and her mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to do. Picard suddenly dropped to the floor in a crouching position and began moving his arms around searchingly as though looking for something. The smoky material stopped flowing from the object into his nose and mouth, but his eyes were still a cloudy black. "Beverly," he called out hoarsely. "Beverly, I'm coming, where are you? Beverly?"

He must have heard her shouting to him earlier. But he was still in the thrall of whatever was controlling him. He couldn't see her. Beverly looked quickly at Troi as if questioning whether she should say something, anything to him. Troi nodded to her slowly, clearly unsure of her recommendation. "Yes, Jean-Luc," Beverly said trying to keep her voice steady. "It's me…I'm right here." His brow furrowed in confusion as he crawled on all fours toward the sound of her voice. A jagged bloody line zigzagged down the side of his face from his forehead to his chin. A new wound no doubt that would not heal.

"I'm coming," he whispered. "But it's dark in here, and I can't see you. Just stay still so that he can't find you," he begged her.

"Who is 'he', Jean-Luc? Who is trying to find me?"

"My master told me…." He continued to crawl toward her as though blind. Worf took a hesitant step forward. He had not expected this strange set of circumstances, and had no idea if Doctor Crusher was in danger. If the Captain was under the power of the peculiar object resting on the bathroom sink, Worf decided he should put himself between the Captain and Doctor Crusher—just in case.

This was a mistake, for as soon as he took another protective step, Picard rose to his feet, eyes an inky black. There was no recognition in his eyes, only fierce determination as he sprung on Worf. He swung at Worf two fisted as though he was wielding a sword, crying out as he did so. Worf was not prepared for the strength of the blow, which he tried to block with his forearm. It felt as though he had been struck by a blade. He heard the bones of his wrist crack, and he grunted, trying to grab the Captain to restrain him. Picard ducked out of his grasp and then turned to face him again.

"Enemy…" the voice drifted. "He must be killed to reach the King. Kill him," the voice commanded.

"M-master?" Picard stammered, hesitating. The blade shimmered before him still clutched in his hands, but it no longer appeared completely solid to him. All around him, the outer walls of the fortress seemed to waver, and he thought he could see through them. The foe standing before him did not appear to be one of the countless Borg he had killed. Instead this one appeared more familiar…a golden-black uniform. A Klingon. Was he the enemy, or was he a friend?

"Where is your beloved?" the voice of his master hissed at him. The Klingon walked closer to him, wounded, but still a threat. The Klingon reached out a hand toward him, and he seized it, turning his feet and sending the Klingon over his shoulder. He heard the smash of glass, felt a rush of air. He couldn't see clearly. He turned and blinked and saw two female figures. Beverly? He felt dizzy and confused, as though straddling two different worlds. Then a pair of strong arms squeezed around him, he struggled and then heard a hiss and felt pressure on his neck.

"Is he coming out of it?" Riker asked. "Is it safe?"

"Look at his eyes," said Troi. "They're returning to normal, Beverly."

Beverly still in shock stared down at Jean-Luc, lying prone on the deck of his cabin. He hands and feet were held in blue-green energy restraints and he stared silently up at the ceiling.

Guinan knelt on the floor next to Picard and looked up at Beverly. "He's in some sort of trance," she said. "But I can tell his mind is clearing…don't you agree, Counselor?"

Troi nodded. "Yes, I believe so."

Riker nodded. "Fine, but we're keeping the restraints on him," he said, glancing over at Worf who sat on Captain Picard's living room couch looking completely depressed as though he had failed. Worf had been able to restrain Picard, but not after having sustained a broken wrist, nose, and cuts after having been tossed into the Captain's shower by Picard himself.

Picard suddenly sat up and they all took an involuntarily step backward. Picard looked down at his bound hands and glared up at Riker, blinking in confusion. Why was he being restrained? He trusted his First Officer. There must be a good reason for this. "What is happening? Did I do something?"

"Yes, Captain," said Guinan. "You are being controlled by an entity that is using that rock sitting on your bathroom sink to create an alternate world in which you apparently travel to at night. This explains why you have been so tired, my friend. You've been awake every night for hours, fighting—for what purpose we don't know."

"Beverly," he said, jerking his head back to look behind him, where she stood watching him quietly. "I heard her screaming. I thought she was in danger…." Beverly tried to walk over to his side at that moment, but Guinan held up a warning hand.

"Captain, Doctor Crusher is safe. But you are not. Now this is very serious business. Please try and remember." She held up the tricorder and tapped at it. It emitted the sound of his voice, repeating some guttural phrase over and over.

His head swiveled around to stare at the instrument. "Is that me?"

"Yes, sir," said Troi. "Do you not remember?"

Picard gritted his teeth and shook his head in frustration. "Remember? I can't even understand what the hell I am saying."

Guinan stood up calmly. "I can. It's the language of the ancient El-Aurians you are speaking Captain."

"What—what am I saying then?"

"You are saying 'kill the Old King'"; she said and knelt down again. He looked at her with a dubious and pained expression. A thin trickle of blood streamed down his face, seeping from the jagged cut, which instead of coagulating seemed more pronounced now. "What I don't understand, Captain is why you are saying it. Who is the Old King? Who does the Other want you to kill?"

Picard pressed his lips together and shook his head again. "I don't know who the King is," he said. He looked over at Worf, who looked wounded and mortified. Is that what he had done?

He looked down at his bound wrists. "I need to talk to Commander Riker alone," he said with quiet force. "I must ask the rest of you to leave." As they shuffled out, Beverly stooped down and put her hand briefly on his shoulder before exiting with the others.

Riker knelt down and deactivated the leg restraints, moving back then as the Captain got to his feet. "Will…you have to take command, this is getting completely out of hand."

Riker shook his head. "The decision has already been made for both of us, Captain." He took a deep breath, feeling as though he had betrayed the Captain. "I already reported this incident to Admiral Nechayev about 30 minutes ago, sir. She is aware of your…difficulties. But she informed me that unless you become 'incoherent' and lack the 'cognitive ability' to proceed at the conference, she wants you to remain in command and to continue as the leading representative at the conference on Kronos. The stakes are much too high, sir…according to the Admiral."

"Dammit Riker then the stakes are too high for me to fail, aren't they?"

Riker reached out and deactivated the wrist restraints. "Sir, we're not going to fail. And you have my full support."

Earth, 1881

"Well, Gloria, this is where I switch up trains," said Cousin Rob, giving her a hug. He smoothed out his blue porter uniform, and straightened his cap. "I got another assignment waiting for me here in Chicago, and then back down south again. You got a few days more before you reach Sioux Falls. Once you get there, I don't know what your plans are, but there ain't an established train system all the way into the Black Hills yet. Why they just begun building that railroad in those parts."

Guinan smiled and nodded. "That's fine Rob, I will figure it out. You've been a great help to me, Rob. I cannot thank you enough."

He shrugged as he was walking away. "Jus' be careful, Gloria," he called back. "I hear it is something wild up in those parts."

As Guinan ducked back in to the train and it pulled away from the station, she turned and headed back to her duties.

It wasn't until the day after next that she saw Q again. It had been five days, not three since he had given her that ultimatum, demanding that she find the third piece and give it to him. For some reason, she had been able to avoid him. Now as the train steamed through a place referred to by the conductor as Iowa, she knew they were nearing the next significant stop for her, just over the Dakota border. Yet somehow she had a feeling she was not yet close to the end of her journey.

She walked through the train carrying a large box of cigars, she had been ordered to sell to the passengers. The number of service staff had been cut just before departing Chicago, and she was now multi-tasking as required by the head conductor. She turned at the sound of Q's voice, because he was sitting in a seat which when she had passed an instant ago had been empty. "I would like one of those fine cigars," said Q with what she had come to know as his normal air of superiority.

She halted and walked back to see him. "Yes sir, let me tell you of the fine variety we—"she cut herself off abruptly, because as she was speaking a cigar appeared between his lips, already lit for his convenience. He puffed lazily on the cigar as he watched her carefully. "Have you made your decision?" he asked slowly. "Now you had better consider all of the consequences, before answering my dear."

Guinan glanced around her. Unlike their prior discussed, Q had not stopped time, and porters hurried about, passengers talked amongst themselves and conductors patrolled the passageways.

Deep inside she knew she was in trouble, but still, she was not deterred. She had to bring the pieces of the Other to Orla, and there was something about Q that she simply did not trust. Was this all a game to him? Because for her it meant securing a future for her people and doing away with a long-lived evil. Besides, she now had many questions to ask Orla. "Yes, I have made my decision," she said. "And I must bring the shards to Orla."

Q did not look surprised, but then he had likely known her answer already. He also did not look pleased. His face reddened and he took the cigar from his mouth and slowly twisted it out on the mahogany table. "Very well. I have a feeling we will meet sometime in the future. Perhaps then you will have had time to reconsider your foolishness." He smiled up at her before shouting at the top of his lungs, "Thief!"

Guinan turned as a conductor blew a whistle and began to run toward her at full speed. She threw the box of cigars directly at the man's head and then bolted in the opposite direction.