Chapter 27
"Commander Data, I need to speak with you immediately," said Troi, walking quickly on to the bridge.
Data turned to look at her. "Ah, Counselor. Please let me finish reviewing this report and I will soon be available—"
"I'm sorry, Data, but this cannot wait," she insisted, walking toward the ready room. She turned back to regard him with an expectant gaze.
Correctly reading this cue, Data pushed himself up out of the seat and followed her inside Picard's office. "Yes, Counselor?"
Even Data could tell that Troi's demeanor was unusually tense. "Data, do you even realize what is happening on this ship right now?"
Data paused. There were several hundred thousand things happening on board the ship at that moment. Several of those things were serious, but he was unsure of the correct response. "I am not certain that I understand the question, Counselor," he replied. "But if you are speaking of Captain Picard…."
"I am Data, but it is much more than just Captain Picard now. He is just the catalyst for a level of collective hostility I have never before witnessed on board this ship. The majority of the junior officers on this ship are on the verge of attacking each other. The desire to harm and even kill is palpable, Data, and not something this crew should be experiencing or emoting."
"I agree, Counselor," said Data seriously. "What do you suggest?"
"We've got to somehow neutralize the effect that Captain Picard is having on these crewmembers."
"Captain Picard is currently in the detention block, Counselor. He is no threat—"
"No, you're wrong, Data. His very presence incites these officers to want to kill for him. And if they are not unconvinced of this desire, and very soon—I fear the worst. And I have to add, Data…many of these officers are not happy that you are in command now. They believe that you have betrayed the Captain. If they are not already planning a mutiny, they will be soon."
"That is quite concerning, Counselor. What is your recommendation"
"You've got to let me try to reach him, Data. If I can somehow cut him off at least from the others, we could bring at least some of them back to their senses and regain sanity on this ship."
"Counselor Troi, I am concerned for your welfare. You cannot be certain that you will be able to maintain control over the Captain, and in fact you may be harmed yourself."
"Data, you have to let me try."
"Do not approach too closely, Doctor," warned Worf.
Jean-Luc lay face up on a bench inside the detention cell with energy restraints around his wrists and ankles. His eyes were closed, but she could not tell if he was conscious or not. Beverly turned back in barely contained outrage glaring at Worf and the other security personnel. "He's not even awake, and you've got him bound like some kind of criminal?"
Worf stared forward into the cell, not meeting her gaze. "Doctor, he is extremely dangerous," he assured her.
"But there's an energy field in place…" she said, trailing off. "Drop the field for just a few minutes. Let me try and get through to him," she blurted out suddenly, grabbing Worf by the arm.
Worf shook his head, but he pulled over a chair for her to sit down. "Perhaps you would like to sit here, Doctor. But I am unable to remove the field. We cannot ensure your safety."
Frustrated, Beverly accepted the offer of a chair and sat down. She leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees while she watched him. He looked almost peaceful, and she remembered how she had refused to take his hand earlier in the day when they were in his quarters. And now she had lost the opportunity to touch him at all. She knew that he had nearly killed Riker. But it wasn't something he had control over anymore. Did that mean he would try and kill her too?
As if he was listening to her thoughts he suddenly sat up and swung his legs over the bench, placing his feet squarely on the ground. His eyes, now open, were no longer hazel, but inky black. A shock of fear went through her. Then before her eyes his body seemed to shimmer and phase out of existence briefly before returning to normal. He got to his feet and walked to the energy field. "Let me out," he said loudly, to no one in particular. Did he even see her or anyone else outside the cell for that matter? Maybe he could only see those creatures he was fighting inside the Other's world.
"I am afraid I cannot let you out, Captain," said Worf.
"I must reach the Old King, and if I don't then you are to blame. Master, I am surrounded by so many traitors," he said sounding forlorn.
"Jean-Luc," Beverly ventured. "It's me, Beverly. Can you hear me?"
He reached toward the energy field. "This barrier cannot keep me from my goal. My goal is paramount. Nothing else matters anymore."
"Jean-Luc, don't touch the field. You're going to hurt yourself. No one wants to hurt you…we only want to help you."
He blinked a few times and his eyes returned to normal. "Beverly? What happened? Where am I?"
She walked forward, shaking Worf's restraining hand off her shoulder. "You're here safe with me, Jean-Luc. I won't let anything happen to you," she said.
He lowered his head to stare at the floor, and his expression was immensely sad. "I—I can't…." Suddenly his body phased away again and in his place was a man resembling him, but much taller with a tattooed body. It was the man she had seen in her dream. The man he was transforming into. The man emitted a low laugh and then raised his head to stare at them with a frightening gaze, raising his bound hands he slammed his fists into the energy field, grunting as it threw him backward. Beverly watched in horror, while Worf held onto her shoulders.
The tattooed warrior slammed his fists into the energy field again and again until he was too fatigued to stand upright. He staggered around the cell, looking confused and angry and then then fell to one knee before collapsing backward and hitting his head on the bench. At that point, the strange shimmer occurred again, and the warrior's body disappeared. Now Picard's limp body lay half on the bench and half on the floor. He was still conscious, and his body began to shake. He brought his bound wrists up in an attempt to cover his face as he cried.
Pritchard refused to talk to her for four whole days after she asked him about his son. Guinan was used to solitude, so at first she had no problem with this. They made camp and scrounged for food every night, and still Pritchard said nothing. He drank plenty of whiskey though. After a week of spending nights outside, it suddenly grew cold one night, and the wind whistled through the trees and low hills.
Out of self-preservation, they huddled close together next to the fire. To Guinan's surprise, Pritchard pulled a blue padded coat out of his saddle bags and draped it around her shoulders. It smelled musty, but she examined it with interest, grateful for the extra warmth. It was dark blue with gold piping around the wrists and down the front. Round fasteners she had come to learn were called buttons trailed down the front of the coat. She pulled it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she said.
She felt him shrug as he leaned against her. "Fall's approaching," he said. "That's why the wind is nippin' at us tonight, Guinan. I wonder if you will reconsider your journey, once it gets a bit colder." He laughed and took a drink of water from his flask.
She looked at him in surprise. "I was beginning to think you had stopped talking permanently."
He laughed again, now taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. "Ha! Me? No, I was just thinking. I don't like to talk when I'm thinking."
"For four days, you were deep in thought," she said sarcastically. "Do share."
He shook his head and leaned against her again. "I don't think so," he said quietly.
She ran a hand down the length of the coat, and snagged her finger. "Did you know there's a hole in this coat?"
"I sure do," he said quietly. "Hard to forget a bullet hole such as that one," he remarked.
She turned to look at him. "You were shot?"
He made a whistling sound, and poked himself in his lower side. "Went clean through my side just above my hip. Lucky it missed my guts."
"When was this?"
"The War," he said as though she were crazy. "I already told you that. Maybe…'64. After that I retired. I thought I had seen enough death and destruction to last a lifetime." He shoved the heel of his boot into the fine rocks at his feet. "But unfortunately I've seen more since then. And believe me, I ain't looking for it." He sighed. "Some things never seem to change."
He got up to poked the fire, and made a sweeping gesture in the air with the stick, which to her seemed more elegant than she would have given him credit for. "We were charging and I was holding the sword up like this…" he whistled again. "Bullet struck me clean through. If I hadn't held onto the horse, I would have been trampled or killed there in the mud by a bayonet."
"But you survived," she said.
"Sure," he said grinning. He pointed the stick at her playfully. "You know you make a sharp lookin' captain in that coat. Not as sharp as I was though, surely…." he laughed and sat back down beside her.
She took a bite of an apple, and chewed it slowly while they sat in silence for a few more minutes. "So it's been almost twenty years since you retired as a young man Pritchard. During that time have you only experienced more death and destruction, or have you had any happiness?"
He took off his hat and lay down placing it on his chest. "Yes, I have been happy," he admitted softly looking up at the sky, obviously remembering. "I was gloriously happy once."
She smiled and stretched out her legs. "Really? I don't believe you…."
He made a face at her and then lifted up on one elbow. "Do you have any idea what true love is? If you do, then you know what happiness is like."
She huddled in the jacket. "Let's say I do, Pritchard. Are you saying you were in love once?"
He laid back down and gazed up at the stars. "I don't even know where she came from," he said, his voice a near whisper. "One day she appeared and from the start I loved her, and she loved me. Just like that, no questions asked. She was the most beautiful person I ever knew. And the smartest. She never let me get away with a thing! Oh she had a temper, but the next minute she would comfort me in ways no one else could do."
Guinan smiled and looked down at the ground, hugging her knees. "It sounds like fate to me…like you were destined to be together."
He picked up his hat and then dropped it over his face. His voice was thick with emotion. "Do you think…do you think if I believe that, that we were meant to be together, that she'll come back to me?"
Guinan sat in her quarters on the Enterprise feeling as unsettled as she ever had during her long life. Her friend was disappearing in front of her eyes it seemed. She had to find a way to save him before the changes in him became permanent. She lit a traditional candle and sat contemplating the dilemma with Picard. "Who is the Old King?" she asked out loud. She had been asking the same question for days now, but this time she asked the question to Orla. She had not spoken to Orla in years, and had felt betrayed by the supernatural being so often that she had not wanted to. Once long ago, she had seen Orla as a perfect, infallible deity. But now she knew better, and she hesitated even to ask for Orla's assistance.
"Who is the Old King?" she asked again.
A shimmering purple shape appeared before her. "Guinan, you already know the answer to this question. But you must face your past to bring the truth to the present and save your friend."
"Why has my friend been made to suffer like this?" Guinan asked.
"The reason does not matter," said Orla.
"Why not?" Guinan demanded.
Orla laughed and the purple image shimmered again. "The only thing that matters now is finding the solution."
"Which is what?"
"Remember the boy," urged Orla. "And then you will come to understand that to save your friend Picard, you must save the Old King as well."
Guinan nodded, slowly beginning to understand.
"Once you have saved the Old King, bring Picard to me, and I will save him. Guinan, I love you my child," said Orla.
"I love you too, Mother," she replied, uttering words she had not said in ages.