Hello, breaking from routine and updating a day early

It's fun reading the reviews, no matter how few.

And now for something completely different

Chapter 8

"Are we gonna be alright?" asked the little girl.

She was laying on a small white bed. The room around her was tan in comparison, with friendly, sloping walls. Many other beds lay around, each occupied by a sentient being. However, it was always the younglings that needed the most attention.

And right now, she had the attention of Doctor Beverly Crusher. The women's gentle demeanor was perfect for patients in stressful situations. And her attitude was certainly a step up from her predecessor, the often volatile Leonard McCoy.

"Are we gonna be alright?" repeated the girl. Her brown eyes got huge as she awaited the answer from Dr. Crusher.

"I think?" Beverly replied.

"You don't know?" the girl responded.

"Sometimes, all of life's questions can't be answered right then and there, sometimes, we have to wait." Beverly answered.

The problem was, she didn't know. Her son had gone down there, then Geordi reported they had crashed, and that they had fought with the natives, and that their only mode of transportation back was gone. She hoped Wesley was alright, and she hoped that everything was going to be alright.

"I hate waiting," the girl fumed, reflecting Beverly's thoughts at that moment.

"Unfortunately, it's the only thing we can do."

Beverly wished she had a window to gaze into the unknown planet that Picard, Wesley, and all the others were stuck on. She needed to find out what was happening to them.

She never knew if she wanted to know or not.

Picard and crew once again were hiding in some godforsaken cart. This time, instead of cabbages; weapons, explosives, and just about anything to do with the military were kept in there.

The boy Haru had explained that while the ship they were sneaking on to was full of people aiding their cause, Ba Sing Se's port was in hostile control. He also noted with embarrassment that he should have thought to bring more disguises. Haru, however, had them sneak onto a cart full of what was listed before, and right now, he was manning the kimono-like creatures on their way to the friendly ship.

Riker was the first to break the silence.

"If this goes anything like the movies," he said with a smile, "at least one of the guards is going to stop the cart."

The cart did stop, as Riker foreshadowed.

He did not foreshadow more friendly faces that met him.

"Welcome," said one of the men, "to the Key of Freedom"

Is this what I really wanted? The young man contemplated this on the balcony. The town below was richly dressed in fine stones, gold ornaments. The dominating color of the buildings were red. Red, the color of the glow of a lowly lit fire.

The embers of the fire had spread, and formed into a blaze. It had consumed nearly everything, nearly.

Is this what I really wanted? The young man ran his hand over his left eye.

This blaze that had run rampant over the four nations had possessed the eye.

The eye itself was not special, the scar around it was, in the shape of a flame.

This scar haunted Prince Zuko for nearly three years. He received the scar due to his incompetence in front of his father.

Your father gave you this scar, a father who is supposed to discipline you, yes, but a father who is also supposed to protect you, to care for you.

My father was teaching me a lesson, that's all

That innocent men should be sacrificed! That one who shows his free will should be repressed! You've seen the lies of your nation, there is no doubt.

I have restored my honor, I got what I want, I fulfilled my destiny.

Then why are you so empty? Why are you unhappy? You got your father's "love" if you call it that, but in doing that, you betrayed your real father. You threw him in the dust to fulfill empty promises!

You really don't know what you want, do you!

"I DO!" the prince shouted, raising a wooden stool next to him, and drowning it in the flames. Just like every problem in his life.

"Somebody's having a rough day, aren't they Zuzu?"

The fierce, cold, yet annoying voice of his sister, Azula cut in Zuko's present affairs. Unlike here angsty brother, Azula almost always seemed to be at ease. Except when she was training, because she was a perfectionist.

And whenever she decided to invade his personal space, she would be up to something. She always had the power to annoy the crap out of him, and have him step out of line. And she was the one who helped him restore his rightful place, though that wouldn't stop her to remind him of it.

"What are you here for?" Zuko finally asked, his eyes narrowing on the calm, yet playful eyes of his sister.

"There has been an interesting development in Ba Sing Se," Azula began. She noticed Zuko winced. Ba Sing Se was where supposedly the Avatar was killed. Zuko was given all the credit for it, even though his sister was actually the one who killed Aang. Zuko was, at first, mystified by this development, Azula was not one to miss out on an opportunity to be praised for what no previous Fire Lord could do. His sister, however, hinted that Aang might have survived the attack. After remembering Aang's friend, Katara, showing him some of the rare spirit water that could heal any wound, Zuko had no doubt that Aang could have survived.

And he was frightened when his sister mentioned this last tidbit.

"Don't worry," she said, after seeing Zuko's exasperated look, "I just wanted to see your reaction after that little statement, but this is not what you think at all."

"What is it then?" Zuko pressed.

"An interesting object was found in Ba Sing Se. It was reported that it could fly without any sort of current, or wings. There is a prisoner along with this who seems to know a lot about this object."

"So the purpose of bringing them here is.."

"Yes, Zuko, find out how we can use this to our advantage, and end the war."

Azula smiled, and her eyes lit as hot as her firebending. Zuko wanted to feel glad that the war was coming to a close.

But in the end, he didn't know what he really wanted.

The city of Ba Sing Se had disappeared. The blue horizon had swallowed it up. Picard looked at the vast expanse of the sea. The boat, or ship he was on was massive, with the same design as some early American Civil War Ironclads. It was grey, all grey. The only spots of color came from the other crew members of the ship, patrolling its surface.

He had been on pleasure cruises occasionally in his life. But this was not the same. His sea was pitch black, dotted with shining stars, with waves of nebula gas.

And his boat was in great peril.

The Enterprise also had the benefit of not spewing out dark, smelly fumes, though antimatter was arguably more dangerous than a little pollution.

"It's funny," a voice stated next to Picard.

Picard swerved to his left to find a middle-aged man, with darker skin contrasted with the deep-blue eyes. His hair was just above his neck, worn plainly with a few braids down the front of his face, and the back.

The "captain" had remembered that he was the commanding officer of this expedition. The boy Haru had mentioned that this man's name was Hakoda, the leader of the southern water tribe.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Picard decided to have the man elaborate, "What's funny?" he asked.

"That pollution you're looking at," Hakoda answered as he pointed to the eternally billowing black cloud, "whenever I saw a cloud like that, I would fear for my family, my tribe. This black cloud would often signify many bad things to come. One of them that occurred was the death of my wife."

The man, Hakoda, bowed down as he said this. Picard sensed mixed emotions coming from him. After the slight pause, however, Hakoda moved on; "now I sail under the black cloud, in order to find the good things to come. Destiny is an ironic thing my friend."

Hakoda than placed his hand on Picard's shoulders. Picard took it off as he responded, "You've just met me on this ship, I don't know if I can call you my friend."

"Alas," Hakoda responded, "In these tough times, you can even call complete strangers friends."

Picard smiled. The man did have quite the lively personality. The best captains were the ones who related to their crew, from first officer, to low-ranked ensign.

He then turned to see his first officer coming up, looking disgruntled.

"So Riker," Picard greeted, "enjoying yourself?"

"I forgot this was a military vessel," Riker responded, "There's no women aboard."

"Deanna's aboard."

"You know, when I'm looking for women, I'm not just looking for counseling."

"Sorry," Hakoda cheekily responsed, "Nearly all my men are married, so they wouldn't be looking for trouble. War has not allowed others to develop any kind of relationship with a woman. That being said, I don't know why you want to get tangled with one."

"I know," Riker responded, smiling, "Women."

"Will Riker," Picard began, "You have very confusing ideals on the opposite sex."

"Sorry Captain"

"Wait," Hakoda suddenly inquired, "'Captain'?"

Riker, eyes wide realizing his mistake, began stammering, "Well, you see, sir, Hakoda, um"

"We're part of a little gang," Picard interrupted, "The leader is given the title of 'Captain', and, as you see, sir, I am the captain."

"Interesting," Hakoda noted. "So, 'Captain,'" he continued, "What does your little gang do?"

"Exploration," Picard explained, finding it easier to integrate the truth in some parts of it, "We love to explore the unknown. We've traveled to the deep corners of the galax- I mean world. We haven't had much time to contemplate much on the war. It wasn't until we saw how much Ba Sing Se was oppressed that we were set in avoiding it."

"And now," Riker added, "We're caught in the middle of it."

"No," Hakoda said, smiling, "You're on one side of it, the right side."

All Picard could hope was that was true.

...

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!"

The chants echoed through the large metal cabin of the Freedom. A large, muscular man, who discarded his shirt to show his superior fitness, was locked in a arm-wrestle with another smaller, yet just as intimidating man.

The most distinguishing features of the other man was his dark-brown skin, his weird hairdo that showed his forehead, oh yes, those weird forehead ridges.

"The boulder gives you credit where it's due," the large man shouted at his opponent, his voice strained with testosterone, "But your arm will fall, like a gigantic rockalanche!"

As he said this, his arm gained the advantage on the other's, slowly making progress towards victory.

"By Kathless! I shall be the victor!" the other man shouted.

His renewed effort stalled the man who called himself the Boulder. Their arms became locked in that position for nearly eternity.

But finally, the larger man prevailed.

"The Boulder, is the world champion of arm-wrestling!" the man proclaimed after seizing victory. After this statement, seeing his opponent's defeated expression, added, "Do not be ashamed, I could have tamed 100 moose-lions much faster than besting you."

Worf smiled at the peculiar compliment, at least, he thought it was a compliment. The warrior in him, however, wanted a rematch to reclaim victory.

But alas, Worf was also a Starfleet officer who knew how to logically respond to certain situations. And, although he could restore his pride, the officer in him told him to rest.

"That was an impressive effort."

"Thank You."

Worf turned around to see an elderly man approach him. His grey hair was long, and went past his shoulders. He was well built for someone so old, and his face carried a presence of one who has seen much pain and suffering.

"I see my son has added a few interesting characters to our expedition," the man stated.

"So," Worf inquired, "The boy who led us here, who snuck us in here, he's your son?"

"Yes," the man answered, the continued, "Forgive my rudeness, I know your name, yet you are insolent of mine. I am Tyro, and I am one of the last free Earthbenders in the Earth Kingdom."

"Earthbenders?" Worf asked. The man who named himself Tyro raised his eyebrows.

Worf, realizing his mistake, began explaining, "It's just, I have not had the benefit of seeing many."

"You wouldn't."

Another man, who was clearly part of the darker skined humans aboard the ship, and approached Worf from behind. Walking alongside him was ..

"Picard," Worf acknowledged

"Please Worf," Picard answered, "Call me Captain."

"But-"

"I'm the gang leader, remember?"

"Right," Worf acknowledged. He was going to have to press for an explanation later.

"Alright men!" Hakoda shouted, "The night is almost upon us. Bato's group get's first watch. The rest of you, hit the bunks."

The men immediately began making way to the surface. There was plenty of shouting on who covered which end of the ship.

Admist the chaos, Hakoda approached Picard, "I hope you don't mind getting the second shift."

"Not at all, Captain." Picard replied with a smile. He was up for an all night task. Years of captaining starships required him to stay awake for long periods of time.

Sleep evoked another thought in Picard. He knew the dreams of the strange group of kids would return to him again. Would the native people know the meanings of these dreams? Possibly, though they had less developed philosophies and sciences.

Picard thought back on the day. Earthbending. Firebending. These two "arts" had already done away with most of modern science. It was a Vulcan's nightmare world. Hakoda had also hinted at an art that had to do with water, presumably "Waterbending." Might there be an "Airbending" art as well?

Deanna was right, what they knew was going down the tubes.

I guess I'll have to put my faith in this man's answer

"Hakoda!" Picard shouted.

Hakoda was busy organizing the first night watch. He whirled around to face Picard.

"What is it?" he asked, his face full of confusion, and stress given his task ahead.

"I don't suppose you can interpret dreams can you?" Picard questioned.

"Well, I don't know, I'm a warrior at heart, but I can try." Hakoda turned from the table he was standing at and pulled out a wooden stool.

"Come closer." he ordered

Picard obliged, and smirked a bit when he saw Hakoda putting his finger up to his chin, imitating a psychologist.

"Now," he stated in a more affluent, intelligent voice, "What dreams are troubling you Mr. Picard?"

"Well," Picard said with a smile, "I'm having dreams of the adventures of these four kids. I am seeing from the perspective of one of them. I have come to some conclusion that these dreams are rooted in reality in some way."

"Four kids," Hakoda echoed. He gave a distant look, looking up to the ceiling. "Describe them," he stated after this pause.

"Well," Picard began, concentrating to remember the finer details of a dream, "Two of the kids I think are of your people, they have dark skin, one girl, and one boy. The girl is, I say, very mature for her age, she acts like ... like.."

"Like a mother," the water tribe captain interrupted.

"Wait," Picard said, "Do you-"

"And let me guess," Hakoda continued, "the older boy acts like a goofball."

"Your right!" Picard responded, "How did you know?"

"Well," he began, "I should know the personalities of my son and daughter."

Picard stammered, "Those...those are your children?"

"Yes," Hakoda answered, "and your dreams are very much rooted in reality. They are in the fire nation right now, traveling with the one who will save us all."

"Save us all?" Picard asked. He had an idea that the child whose perspective he had been sharing is the one he was talking about. But since when could a child reach a messianic status?

"Yes," Hakoda interrupted, "The one who will free us from this war is the avatar."

Silence followed Hakoda's proclamation as Picard processed what was said to him. An explanation was in order from him.

An explanation that could only be found in his dreams.

Nothing else to say, except see you next week!