“CAN’T YOU LET ME GO? I won’t be a bother to anyone again. I promise.”

Both Rikers turned and looked at their unwilling companion and then exchanged glances. It was clear to Will that his father was uncertain as to what path he should follow. Now that they seemed to be communicating, he hoped to be able to guide his father toward a reunion with Picard once they reached the capital—whenever that would be. They had been hiking through the dense forest for hours now. Twice more they encountered the running stream and were glad for the water, which seemed to be agreeing with them all. On the other hand, they had found nothing to eat and Will’s stomach was beginning to rumble.

From what Kyle could determine from their flight plan before being forced down, they might be finally nearing the edge of the forest. Neither Kyle nor Bison knew what might be on the other side, but Will was hopeful they made it out before the sun set, which was not far off.

The two Rikers were talking and it seemed there were more issues to cover, but that would have to wait for that promised drink in Ten-Forward. Between the hike, their exhaustion and the presence of the ever-complaining Bison, neither felt like getting into the heaviest issues that remained between them. Whereas Kyle might be fine with that, Will was not. He had to tread carefully so as not to ruin the mood. Will did admit to himself, things hadn’t felt this relaxed with his father since their fight on the Enterprise-D so many years ago. And those feelings didn’t last, did they?

“Excuse me, I’m asking a question here!”

“We heard you,” Will said harshly. “You’re coming with us to the capital.”

“Swell,” Bison said grumpily.

“My thoughts exactly,” Kyle added.

“When’s supper?” Bison complained.

“When we’re hungry,” Kyle said.

“Well, I’m hungry now.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s more like when we find something safe to eat,” Will said with waning patience. He thought that would keep things quiet for a while but less than a minute later, the former test subject spoke up.

“They going to execute me?”

The question caught Will off guard. He knew nothing about the judicial system on Delta Sigma IV but was fairly certain, given what he knew of these people, that capital punishment was practiced.

“They should, you know,” Bison continued, sounding dejected. “Unoo was a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.”

The trio continued on in silence, with neither Riker certain of what to say.

“I’m asking, do you think they will want me to die for starting all this?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kyle said. “It’s not something you did consciously. Someone had to be first and fate picked you.”

“Me and not one of the four other poor fools,” Bison said. “Me, the Federation’s lab rat.”

“Okay, if it wasn’t fate, then the Federation figured you had it in you,” Kyle said testily.

“That’s not a lot of help,” Will replied.

“Are we still on course for getting out of this god-forsaken jungle?” Kyle asked.

“More or less,” Will said.

“More or less?”

“Is there an echo in here?”

“Shut up,” Kyle said to Bison. To his son, he added, “Explain please?”

“I’m judging from the way the trees grow that things are beginning to thin. But the shadows also make it tough to tell. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

“You keep leading the way,” Kyle said.

They continued to march.

 

Finally, Will could see something other than leaves and trees. He spotted the beginnings of twilight peeking through the limbs. The forest was ending and they were emerging just when it would have gotten too dark to manage much farther. They were dirty, tired, and hungry but they had made it through the forest alive. Bison continued to complain about everything, mostly hunger and his fate, but Will managed to tune him out.

As they cleared the last tree, the trio paused and took stock of their situation. In the near distance, over a rise, were lights indicating a village or city. There were sounds of machinery, even a voice or two. That was clearly their direction, even if it was farther west than Will would have preferred. Still, they’d find food and hopefully a means of reaching the capital and the Council. Along the way, Will imagined only the very worst possibilities, not daring to hope they’d return to find a cure in effect courtesy of Beverly Crusher, M.D. and miracle worker.

“Something’s wrong, son,” Kyle said, breaking the moment.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the way that light is moving. It’s flickering like it’s alive.”

“Like it’s on fire,” Will said, alarm in his voice.

“We better hurry over there.”

“How do you see us helping?”

“Extra hands, I guess. We don’t have any emergency aid equipment but we have to be there.”

“I know,” Will said. “Because you fix things.”

“Damn right,” Kyle said and set out at a strong pace. It didn’t take long for Will to follow and he never turned back but was gratified to hear Bison’s footsteps behind him.

Within twenty minutes they had cleared the rise and saw the outline of a small city. Boxy, squat buildings—no surprise there—but these didn’t look like homes. This part of town had to be the business district, and to the right were the flickering lights. Then a tongue of flame rose above as if to beckon them closer.

And drawn like moths, the men moved closer.

Will forgot all about eating. As they neared, it was clear the building in flames was populated. He saw emergency workers helping people with blankets and even oxygen masks. A few more minutes and the figures became more distinct.

“My God,” Kyle muttered.

“Children,” Will said.

“It’s a school,” Bison said. “I’d know those markings anywhere. Primary school. Had some terrible times there…”

“Shut up,” Kyle said. “Willy, we have to go help. My God, children are in there. My fault…”

Will turned on his father, grabbed his shoulders and shook the older man once. “Look at the fire! Study the pattern. What do you see?”

Kyle did as he was ordered and was silent for over a minute. Finally he began speaking. “Pattern burns are even on the south wall. East wall is clean. No fire on the ground. The fire’s moving from one side to the other. Given the elevation of the fire, it didn’t start on the ground or in one spot.”

“Arson,” Will concluded for him.

“Most likely. And no surprise given the madness we’ve seen elsewhere.”

“Someone threw the bomb,” Bison said.

“Point to you,” Kyle agreed. “If they’re still around, we might be able to put an end to their threat.”

“Spoken like a good tactician,” Will added with a grin. “Okay, let’s go play hero.”

His father’s features darkened. “We’re neither playing nor heroes. We’re responsible for this carnage.”

“Thought so,” Bison said.

“Shut up,” both Rikers said in unison.

“Definitely an echo around here,” Bison said and then, looking at Kyle’s expression, shut his mouth.

As they neared the school, everyone studied the damage that continued to spread. The rooftop was aflame and windows on two sides had been blown out. People were running back and forth, their movements appearing aimless from the air. Firefighters were present, as were other emergency service workers, but they were no match for the ferocity of the flame. Barricades kept most of the onlookers a safe distance away, but again, there were too few peace officers to ensure they remained on the proper side. Will imagined that many of them were worried parents.

“Do we have anything to protect us?”

“The cold weather gear is heat resistant, or so I’m told,” Kyle said.

Will eyed the outer clothes he wore. “It will have to do, I suppose.”

He was already closing up the coat, ensuring every fastening was closed and used a scarf to act as a mask. “Dad, you can scan the perimeter while I go inside.”

Without looking back, his father agreed. “Each to our strengths.”

Will nodded, more to himself than to his father. Before moving closer to the burning building he looked over at Bison. Narrowing his eyes, Will said, “Stay put. Don’t complicate this any more than it needs to be.”

“Save the kids,” he said quietly. Will was surprised by the compassion in the man’s voice. Within seconds he could feel the heat generated by the fire, amplified by the winter gear he wore. Moving quickly, he worked his way past gawkers and panicked parents. The security cordons were fine for those trained to obey the rules but had the crowd wanted, they could have overrun the scene, slowing up relief efforts. Whatever had happened to these people, at least all their common sense hadn’t fled.

Since the school was aflame mainly on the south side, he chose to enter from the north. The heat grew worse with each passing step, and he felt sweat form on his chest and a trickle run down his spine. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal since the one at Seer’s house over a day ago, and sleep had been a series of catnaps. He was pushing his limits of physical endurance and realized that soon he’d be at less than peak performance—probably already was.

The windows on this side were still intact, and he quickly pushed one open and stepped through. Like the other buildings he’d visited, the school was a series of boxlike rooms and connecting hallways. He stood in the classroom, amid overturned chairs and tables, and computer terminals flashing error messages. Listening, he tried to determine where the flames were, where the children might have gone to await rescue. There was the telltale crackle of fire overhead and in the distance a stream of water, but no cries from children. He longed for a tricorder.

He placed a hand against the classroom door, which someone had wisely closed. It didn’t feel particularly warm, so Will gingerly cracked it open and paused. No rush of heat or flame, so he was safe. Carefully, he opened it all the way and then looked up and down the hallway. He tried to imagine himself a frightened child. Where would he go? A sound of breaking glass to his right decided matters for him, and he headed in that direction.

The hallway was littered with dropped belongings, padds, data chips, articles of clothing, even some old-fashioned paper. The fire hadn’t reached here yet but it would. The building was a loss, just waiting to be consumed as a sacrifice to the problem unleashed by the Federation.

Will worked his way carefully toward the end of the hall, where he suspected the sound came from. All the doors he passed were closed, and he looked for any signage to give him a clue where children might be found. Finally arriving at the last classroom, he tested the door and then opened it.

No one was inside, but Will cracked a smile anyway. It was a science lab, with all manner of tools and equipment on the worktables. There was some form of communications device half assembled on the middle table. A quick glance told him it was a person-to-person device, the kind families would use. It didn’t have a lot of range, but it might still be useful. Pulling off his gloves, he knew he had only a few minutes at most.

Will hadn’t worked with chips, wires, and soldering equipment like this in some time. Still, the relatively simple nature of the device made his job easier. He took two power supplies and connected them, allowing him to boost the signal. Then he used a small stylus to adjust the frequency, one he hoped the Enterprise would be able to pick up. Riker then pulled out pieces of the device and found some adhesive tape. He unfastened his coat and found a seam. Using a sharp edge of the stylus, he ripped open the seam and quickly taped the power supply and pieces of the communicator to the upper chest portion of his jacket. With luck, someone on the starship would pick up the signal and then track his whereabouts until he could be contacted or beamed up.

Finished, he used more tape to repair the seam and then closed the coat. Turning, he quickly plotted a course of action. He jogged down the corridor, back in the direction he had started from, and opened each room, shouting for children. The smoke was thicker now and turning black, so he knew the fire was approaching. Running while breathing smoky air through his scarf wasn’t easy, and he felt himself getting a little winded. With each empty room, Will grew more and more concerned that there were still people in need of help and that but he was in the wrong part of the school.

Children would know enough to run away from flames, so he was in the right half of the building; he just wasn’t in the right room. They would not go up where the fire sounded closer but…Will wondered if the school had a basement.

He found a T-shaped juncture and turned, heading closer to the fire. The heat had risen, he sensed, as more perspiration ran down his brow and neck. Halfway down the hall, he spotted a door that had an emergency graphic. It was wider than the classroom doors and painted a dull gray, in contrast to the muted colors of the other rooms.

He yanked open the door without checking for heat and shouted down.

Within seconds, voices answered. Scared, young voices all pleading for rescue.

“I’m coming,” Will yelled as he bounded down the steps.

The basement room was well built for any disaster. Light panels were affixed to the walls and ceiling, and there were emergency medical kits every ten feet as well as a locker full of rations. A communications unit sat unused alongside one wall, and Will lingered over that for a moment before focusing on the center of the room.

Three children, two boys and a girl, huddled together, tears running down their faces. They looked about six years old, but because of their accelerated aging, Will could only guess.

“I’m here to help,” he said, making certain his smile was wide and reassuring. “The fire isn’t entirely on this side of the school, so we can get out safely. Are you ready to go?”

Three nods.

“Okay. First of all, I’m Will. I’m trained to help, so you have nothing to worry about. Now, I need to go first and make sure the way is clear. All right with you?”

Three more nods.

“Then let’s get started. We’ll go single file up the stairs. Once we’re all up, I’ll show you the path we’ll follow. Here we go.”

He turned and started up the stairs and then paused, making certain they were following. All three had stopped crying and were following, although they seemed petrified at the notion.

“How’d you get separated from your teacher?” he asked as he climbed the stairs.

After several seconds of silence, the girl spoke up in a tiny voice. “Addie here insisted we go back and get his art project. We followed one way, the teacher kept going the other way.”

“It was my for my da’s birthday,” one boy said defensively.

“Do you still have it?” Will asked.

“No, the hall was too full of smoke.”

“Well, the smoke is still there, and it’s probably thicker. You need to cover your faces with your shirts when we come out. I’m going first.” With that he stepped out into the hallway that was now dark and thick with smoke.

“Hurry,” he urged them and in a burst they stepped into the hallway. Immediately they all began coughing, and one of the kids began crying again.

Will shepherded them toward the large window he had entered through. The air would be clearest there, and he could signal for help if necessary.

The classroom was dense with soot and smoke, but it was fire-free. Will walked the children to the window and hoisted them one by one through the opening, placing them gently on the grass. Within seconds, they were all clear.

Will doubted he’d be able to get back in and free others—if there were any—before the fire reached every foot of the school. He was inordinately pleased about having saved three innocents, but more than that, he finally had a way to get back in touch with Picard.

He walked the children toward the barricades, and an alert peace officer spotted the ragtag group approaching. She hurried over, muttered thanks to Riker, and ushered the children away for medical attention.

His duty done, Will unwrapped the dirty scarf from around his face and sucked in huge lungfuls of clear air. He coughed a bit and then breathed normally. The air carried the stench of the fire, but it was cool and felt great. He unfastened the top of his jacket, letting the cooler air refresh him. He was tired and he needed a shower, but more than that, he missed Deanna. She wasn’t far from his mind the entire time they were apart and her absence was a constant ache.

He trudged back to the edge of town and spotted his father leaning against the hull of a purring flyer. Kyle looked a little the worse for wear. His pants were ripped, and a small streak of blood was visible above his brow. Will worried for a moment and then shoved the thought aside. Kyle Riker was more than capable of taking care of himself. He certainly didn’t look like he needed any help.

“You find whoever fired the bomb?” Will asked as he got within earshot.

Kyle nodded slowly. “They won’t be bombing any more children.”

Will looked sharply into his father’s eyes, trying to read into the sentence. All he saw was guilt, pain, and steel, the same things he had been seeing since they first met up several hours and more than a few continents before. He wanted to ask his father for details, but he knew from his expression that there would be no answer.

For the moment, that would have to suffice.

“So now we owe someone else for yet another flyer?”

“You want to get back to the capital or not?”

“I don’t,” Bison piped up from the doorway.

Will gave him a look, too tired to yell at him.

“Can we leave now?” Kyle asked his son. Will nodded and together, they entered the new, cleaner craft. Bison remained where he had been, nothing out of place. For once, Will thought the tide of circumstance was changing in his favor. Carefully, he put his jacket on the deck, threw the scarf and gloves atop it and walked back to his seat.

“Did you save them?” Bison asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” The tenor of his voice changed and he practically growled, “Okay, we can go to the capital so they can try and execute me and we can end this nonsense.”

Kyle told the man to be quiet and busied himself with preparations for lifting off. Will sat, trying to wash the exhaustion from his mind and body, but he felt he was failing at it. He knew he would need to remain sharp and seize any opportunity there was to gain control of his own situation.

Father or not, there was much Kyle had to answer for, and his time was rapidly approaching.

 

They were getting nowhere fast.

Vale and Troi stood at the edge of a forest and looked for clues their tricorder might have missed. The sun was starting to set and the fall air was cooling rapidly.

“The signal came from right here,” Troi said, perplexed.

Vale finished walking a circle around the clearing. She finally put her hands on her hips and looked at the darkening sky.

“They were above us when the badge was smashed. It’s the only explanation, Deanna.”

“And we don’t even know which way they were headed,” Troi said glumly.

Vale walked over to the other woman and paused, taking one final look around. She shook her head and stopped to think of the next step. Troi wanted to be patient, but she’d spent way too long just waiting and liked the notion of acting.

“Will would have put up a fight before the badge was disabled,” Deanna said. “So who broke the badge? His own father?”

“Never met him. You have. So, tell me, is this something Kyle Riker is capable of?”

Troi pondered the question and admitted, “I don’t know. If he’s still as desperate as he appeared on the lab recording, then anything is possible.”

“Wish your senses could work like the sensors,” Vale said.

“Me too, but we’re not that lucky.”

“Okay, I’m going to do some old-style detective work. I want to look through these reports from my teams, see if I can find a correlation. Maybe that will help.”

She began walking away from the trees, her features highlighted by the tricorder’s glowing screen. After a moment, Troi followed behind her, happy to at least be moving.

“So tell me, if you don’t mind, what’s up with you and the commander?”

Troi shrugged. “I know what you’re asking, but I don’t know the answer myself.”

“Wasn’t always like that, I gather.”

“True. We spent most of our time on the Enterprise as colleagues and friends.”

“Not lovers until the Briar Patch,” Vale said. Not once had her eyes left the tricorder, but she managed to keep a conversation moving and avoid tripping over dead branches and small stones.

“Not really,” Troi said. “That really was earlier.”

“Oh? I knew there was something in the past, just never knew the story.”

“It’s not something we usually post for casual consumption,” Deanna said.

“Sorry if I’m intruding. I’m really a romantic and I think there’s a good story.”

Troi hadn’t expected that, but she enjoyed talking about Will to an unbiased listener. And it did pass the time.

“Well, we were naked when we first met,” Troi began.

Vale lowered the tricorder and turned to stare, her mouth agape. “That certainly must have helped things along.”

Troi laughed, happy to have the attention. “It was at a wedding. Will was a young lieutenant. He was assigned as Starfleet liaison to the Federation ambassador on Betazed. His first duty was to represent the ambassador at my girlfriend’s wedding. I was her maid of honor, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.”

“That’s right, your planet doesn’t hide a thing, mentally or physically. Security personnel take special courses when posted to your world. Did you look back at the commander?”

Troi chuckled at the memory, although at the time it wasn’t funny. “No. Not really. I grew up sheltered, despite having a human father. My mother wanted me to be a proper lady of Betazed, so Will’s look and thoughts, well, they were so alien to me.”

“So nothing happened at first?”

“He pursued me, I’ll give him that. And I was intrigued. I had never seen anyone so focused on the primal, physical needs or so confident in his abilities.”

That earned Troi a raised eyebrow from Vale. She ignored it.

“We finally met a few times, and I needed him to slow down and learn who I was and what I wanted from a relationship. It took some doing. A lot of doing. And to be honest, that was when I sensed there was something special about him. Our minds touched, a first for me. Being only half Betazoid, I thought I was unable to communicate telepathically with anyone but my mother, who is especially powerful. So, to have another voice in my head…”

“Creeped you out?”

“No, but it took getting used to. And then he told me he heard a word in his own mind, Imzadi.”

“Wait,” Vale said, once more giving the counselor her undivided attention. “I’ve heard you use that word. It’s something special.”

“More than that, Christine. With some people it can be an endearment, like ‘beloved.’ But what Will heard, and what I meant, was the purer meaning. It means ‘first,’ and we were each other’s first true, deep, meaningful relationship.”

“But not your, you know, first…?”

“Actually, he was,” she said. And she sensed Vale’s embarrassment, which amused her. “Ever since then, there was always going to be a connection between us, regardless of time or place.”

“Which is how you sense he’s still alive,” Vale continued.

“Yes.”

They were silent for a moment, and Troi sensed a touch of unease from the other woman. To help keep the conversation going, she went on to tell of being a hostage during a botched Sindareen attempt to steal precious Betazoid artwork and how Riker was the one who rescued her. The story certainly appealed to the security officer side of Vale.

“Wow. Wish I found someone like that for me.”

The two continued to walk, Vale once more intent on the tricorder.

“Hasn’t there been a great love in your life?”

“Maybe. I mean, there was no telepathy, no word exchanged between souls. But we had one glorious year during my first posting. I was just an ensign, recently assigned to the U.S.S. Al-Batani…” And Vale went on about her experiences while Troi just listened. And thought about Will and the jungle, about Maror holding her life in his hands until Will arrived.

“Wait a minute,” Vale said, interrupting her own story and Troi’s thoughts. “Found it. A pattern, that is. We’ve been getting reports of humans coming to hot spots, helping out and then vanishing.”

Troi smiled at that, knowing it had to be the Rikers.

“It took a while to piece together, considering these were buried eyewitness reports in a mound of other information. But there’s a pattern emerging. Jim has been helping coordinate the pattern.”

“Jim?”

“Jim Peart, my number two. He’s at tactical and says a rough chronology would have had them pass this way. We have a direction.”

“Where are they heading?”

Vale cracked a smile and gestured to the west, toward the last remnants of the setting sun. “Thataway.”

 

“This is getting tedious,” Vale grumbled sometime later as they arrived at a site where there had been a riot. Indications were that two men had waded into the middle of the fight and broken it up. She suspected it was Kyle and Will Riker, but they only had hearsay to go on.

“Well, what choice do we have?”

“None, since they’re eluding our best sensor scans. They’re not making this easy on us.”

“I think that was the idea,” Troi noted.

“True, but it’s a pain in the ass.”

“Also true.”

The two saw that there were small clusters of people still talking among themselves. Troi equated them with embers waiting for a stiff breeze to fan them back into an inferno. She decided to keep a watch on them, adjusting her empathic abilities so most of the feelings passed over her. She was emotionally spent, having been surrounded by the strong feelings of a planet full of people who were experiencing them for the first time. It made her both mentally and physically tired.

“If only there were a nice restaurant nearby,” she muttered.

“Hungry? I have ration packs.”

“I’ve had more than enough of those, thank you.”

Vale shrugged and took a drink of water from her canteen. “You get used to them after a while.”

“Maybe you do in security. The rest of us much prefer even replicated meals.”

“I’m just real practical, you know,” Vale replied. “So, you never told me. Why’d you guys break things off?”

The two walked around the small town with its broken shop windows and overturned containers of foods and fabrics.

“Will told me he intended to be the youngest ever to be named captain. All he had was his career as a goal. There didn’t seem to be a place for a lady of Betazed.”

“You mean, you joined Starfleet to follow him? Haven’t I heard that before,” Vale said with a knowing tone.

“Actually, getting to know Will truly opened my eyes to the possibilities beyond my own world. It made sense to put my empathic skills to work, and Starfleet was just establishing its counselor program.”

“The stars were in alignment then.”

“I guess you could say that,” Troi admitted. “It never occurred to me we’d be posted to the same ship. When I learned who Captain Picard had selected as first officer, I kept the fact that I knew him private. The look on Will’s face was, I have to admit, priceless.”

“I can only imagine. And that opened up fresh possibilities, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but as you know, it took us a while before we took advantage of them.”

“Too long, if you ask me.”

And Troi couldn’t argue with that assessment. They continued to walk along in compatible silence.

The riot, reports indicated, had flared quickly and spilled over a three-block area before it was broken up and peace officers managed to restore order. It was one of the few places they had visited that had not required assistance from the Enterprise.

“Gracin to Vale.”

“Go ahead.”

“We have the Huni port secure. It’s just about all wrapped up.”

“Casualties?”

“Nothing to mention.”

“Good. We were due for one like that. Okay, check with Data and see if you’re needed. If not, get your squad back up. Vale out.”

Vale shrugged apologetically to Troi, but the counselor was well aware that the security chief was needed to coordinate the massive efforts of her teams. Even supplemented by personnel from other departments, her teams were stretched thin. Every stop they made required constant communications with squad leaders. And every time Vale apologized.

“You don’t need to do that, Christine.”

“I want to help find the Rikers. These just feel like distractions.”

“Necessary ones, so stop apologizing.”

Vale’s next words were cut off when five hulking men rounded a corner and stopped in front of the women. They assessed the women with insolent eyes, deciding if the two would cause trouble or would be easy prey. The security chief shot Troi an exasperated glance before concentrating on the men.

“What have we here, Noraa?”

“Entertainment,” the man farthest back said.

“Or not,” Vale said, withdrawing her phaser with complete nonchalance.

The men paused, looking at the weapon, and then the man called Noraa laughed. At that, all five rapidly withdrew their own weapons, ranging from some form of energy pistol to a multibladed knife.

“It doesn’t have to get ugly,” Vale said casually. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt us?” And the men laughed.

“Five against two, all with weapons. I like our odds,” Noraa said.

“I’d like things a lot better if you’d just let us leave.”

“And miss out on your engaging company?”

“Well, yes, now that you mention it.” Troi watched and saw that, as usual, Vale kept things casual, but it was all a facade. If someone looked carefully enough, they’d see muscles tensing, eyes sizing up the situation, and a body carefully moving into optimum position. Whatever happened, Troi was clearly there as backup, and her biggest task was not to get in the other woman’s way. While Troi was fully trained in and even excelled at the Klingon martial art of mok’bara, she was nowhere near as good as Vale.

The nearest man moved to flank Vale, blocking her escape route to the right. Another stepped forward, shifting his knife between his hands, a little too eager for something to happen.

He tossed the knife from left to right and back again, trying to intimidate them with his ambidexterity.

With split-second timing, Vale kicked her left leg, catching the knife when it was between hands and sending it high into the air. She then threw herself into a backflip as the knife man skidded backward to avoid being struck by his own weapon. Her move also served to confuse the men on both sides. As she smoothly landed on her toes, she fired first to her left and then the middle.

Troi took aim and let go one shot that went wide and then a second that struck the man to her right.

Noraa, farther back, dropped to one knee and aimed his huge, gaudy pistol directly at Vale. His shot was loud and bright, and an orange beam sliced toward the women. Vale managed to dodge the beam, but her movement caused Troi to lose her balance getting out of her way.

That allowed one of the others to rush her. He grabbed her around the middle and dragged her to the ground. One hand held her right wrist against the dirt; the other was hooked under her left knee as he tried to wrestle her into submission.

Instead, Troi brought her right leg around, caught him in a scissors hold, and then squeezed, using her free hand, the one holding her phaser, to club him against his ear. He howled in pain and she squeezed tighter. With one arm pinned between her legs, he used his free arm to punch her weakly in the shoulder. She had all the lever-age, and he was flailing. Not that the punches were ineffective—Troi knew she’d be bruised come morning—but they weren’t stopping her.

Finally, he seemed to weaken and she used the butt of the phaser to smack him right between the eyes. He seemed to go limp, and she squeezed one final time.

As she disengaged herself from her attacker, she looked up carefully, wondering where the rest of the fighting was taking place. Instead, she saw Vale disarming the fifth and final man.

“Have fun?”

“Not especially, no,” Troi replied with a tired grin.

“Admit it, it felt good to just let go and get all that tension out of your system. I bet you’ve wanted to bash one of these guys since the problems began.”

“That’s not a very enlightened view to take,” Troi said, trying to sound calm and professional.

“No, but it is very human.”

“Well, I am only half human,” Troi reminded her.

“That’s why you only managed one to my four,” Vale said with a grin. “You were far too much in control.”

 

Enough was enough, Picard thought as he rematerialized between the Council chambers. He caught Carmona’s eye and gestured for him to approach. The guard appeared alert, but the captain saw the exhaustion in the man’s eyes. In addition to his work with the Council, he had to be concerned for the crew, too. Everyone was going above and beyond, which Picard had come to expect from his crew but didn’t take for granted. Much as he needed to continue to earn and retain their respect, he in turn was especially conscious of the need to show his own respect and appreciation for the work done by the hundreds of souls under his command.

And right now, they were tired.

“Mr. Carmona,” he began. “Please use whatever resources you need to gather the councillors in one place. Have their chief medic, Wasdin, available as well. You can pick the site you feel will best protect them.”

“Aye, Captain,” Carmona said, and turned to sprint off.

Within five minutes, Carmona returned and with an off-kilter smile announced they were convened and ready for him.

Tapping his combadge, Picard summoned Crusher and Morrow to beam down and join him. Within moments they arrived, and he looked over at the ambassador. Morrow’s health had improved, but he moved with a slight stiffness that indicated pain.

Picard, Morrow, and Crusher followed Carmona into the building, turning right, away from the Bader headquarters. At the end of a hallway they entered an office Picard had not been in before. The series of rooms implied some sort of suite arrangement. Deep in the back was a conference room, with a table more than large enough for all the councillors. It was windowless and totally secure. Carmona and Williams positioned themselves on either side of the door, with Carmona, the senior man, inside the room.

The councillors for a change were not speaking among themselves, but sitting with grim, expectant expressions on their faces. All eyed Picard as he entered and went to the head of the table. He surveyed them for a moment and then nodded to them. He noted the presence of Seer of Anann, their protocol officer and the last man to have seen Will Riker. Picard worried about Will, hoping that Troi and Vale were making progress on the hunt.

But for now, he was on his own and it was time to begin.

“We have identified the problem and the solution,” he began. “What I am about to explain will be difficult for some of you, but it’s the truth. When we’re finished, I can make all the medical findings available to Wasdin.” He paused and looked directly at the older woman, who he would have sworn had aged five years in the past twenty-four hours. Her face was more deeply lined; the dark smudges under her pale green eyes had deepened to black.

“What Starfleet Medical discovered was that a natural agent in the atmosphere was causing a chromosomal change that was resulting in the premature aging. They managed to find a cure for this, but they made a fundamental error. They were so concerned with repairing the damage, they neglected to fully study the changes in body chemistry.

“As best as I can explain it, liscom gas, which has always been part of the ecosystem, has been acting like a narcotic, depressing certain functions within the brain. The result is that every one of the original settlers was, over time, effectively drugged into cooperating with one another.”

He paused, letting that sink in. Sure enough, several members of the Council began objecting, talking among themselves and gesticulating. Some things never change from planet to planet, Picard assured himself. Seer and Wasdin, though, did not object or comment. They seemed ready to hear more.

“If I may continue,” Picard said loudly. He waited a moment to see that people were once more turning their attention to him. “What the medical treatment did was screen out the liscom’s effects on your brain chemistry. You will now live your normal life cycle in another generation or two. However, you are all experiencing your true natures for the first time. Without a set of moral codes and experiences, the people on this planet are suddenly feeling extreme tendencies for the very first time and don’t know how to handle them.”

“That’s the madness?” Wasdin asked incredulously. “Ourselves?” She looked at Crusher, who nodded sadly, a wan smile on her face.

“Yes,” Crusher agreed, “you are all reverting to type, and since both the Bader and the Dorset tend to be aggressive, there have been outbreaks of violence. Your media has made this out to be a form of madness, which has inflamed public opinion against the Federation.”

“What about El Bison El’s murder of Unoo of Huni?” Seer asked.

“Something agitated him, we don’t know what,” Picard admitted. “He was the first to truly exhibit these feelings and acted out. He had no true sense of how to rein in the new emotions. Unoo’s death was the first unfortunate consequence of this condition.”

“Unfortunate is too mild a word, Captain,” Seer replied.

“Do you have a cure?” Wasdin asked.

“Yes, Dr. Crusher has come up with something. But before deploying it, we want you to understand the full implications of our actions.”

“Unlike last time,” Cholan of Huni muttered.

“Indeed, Councillor, we have made mistakes in this matter,” Picard continued. “My chief medical officer has worked around the clock to find a way to stop the violence. Her solution is not perfect, but it gives your people time.”

“What do you mean?” Seer asked.

“We can introduce a plant hybrid into your ecology and let its natural effects work much like the liscom. It will provide you with a normal life cycle, but it will continue to depress your brain chemistry, returning you to a peaceful state.”

“Not enlightened, drugged,” Jus Renks Jus said, more to himself than to others. Looking at the captain, he spoke up. “You want to drug my people.”

“And our people, too,” Cholan added. Picard saw that the solution needed to be introduced quickly. The Council was only going to fragment further if this persisted.

“Everyone will be like they were a week ago,” Morrow interjected. “The difference is, you know there’s a problem to be fixed. And by living your normal life cycle, you have the time to determine for yourselves how best to chart your planet’s future.”

“I wish you never tried to fix the problem in the first place,” Cholan muttered. “We were fine.”

“No,” Seer said from across the room. “We were dying. That’s not how I define ‘fine.’ ”

“How do you introduce this new cure?”

“We have shuttles standing by, Wasdin,” Crusher said. “An entire timetable has been worked out that will seed every continent and major island. A mist of the synthesized concentrate will also be introduced into the major population centers. Our expectations are that it will help calm people down, or at least slow down the current problem’s spread.”

“Your people spent a year testing five of us, and it was a disaster. Now you want to introduce a cure based on what? Simulations?”

“Your concern is a valid one, Wasdin,” Picard answered. “Had we the time, we would have tried this in stages. Trust me: aggressively introducing something like this into a planetary environment is not how we normally do things. My senior staff and I discussed this at length. Ultimately, as I have told first Chkarad and then Jus Renks Jus, a leader must act. Right or wrong, something has to be done. I do not say these things just to inspire, but they are words we need to live by. As the Federation’s representative assigned to deal with the problem, this is what I have decided is the best course of action for your planet.”

“Do we even get a say?” Renks asked.

“Several of you on the Council are exhibiting signs of the current problem. As a result, you are either in a drugged state or an extremely agitated state that robs you of clear thought processes. Therefore, I am informing you of our actions. Once the planet has been stabilized, you and your scientists can take the time to study and plan. Right now, I feel your world is out of time.”

“I thought you said you never ran a planet before,” Renks challenged.

Picard looked at him, a tight expression on his face. “I never have. And trust me, this is not running a planet. I’m just trying to stave off its death.”

“Seems pretty dictatorial to me,” a woman challenged.

“Actually,” Morrow said, standing beside Picard for a show of support, “by asking for our help, you have triggered a mechanism clearly laid out in the Articles of the Federation. A problem that threatens life must be dealt with if a solution presents itself. There’s little choice, I’m afraid. I’m fairly certain the Federation Council will back the captain’s actions.”

“Have you signaled the shuttlecraft yet?” Seer asked. Picard was happy to have the conversation back on a productive track, and he appreciated Morrow’s official backing.

“No, I wanted to inform you all of this and explain myself. I want you to understand that the violence and problems will not end immediately. Just as the current problem spread like a virus, so too will this cure. Your emergency services people will have to continue to do their jobs.”

“And Captain Picard’s people will continue to provide assistance,” Morrow interjected. “The Federation is not abandoning one of its member worlds. This has been an extremely difficult mission, and I concur with the captain: your world needs immediate help.”

There was a pause, as everyone in the conference room considered what had been said and what was about to happen. No one spoke, although the captain watched exchanges of expressions. Body language told him more than enough; his plan would proceed without more than token objections from these people.

“What do you need from our people next?” Seer asked, earning him a reproving stare from Renks.

Picard thought about that for only a moment before responding. “You need to keep your people focused on providing aid and comfort. You need to do damage control. My people can handle the riskier concerns.”

“We still have cities without water or power,” Renks complained.

“My people have provided vital services only to watch them be sabotaged again,” Picard said, fighting his temper. “They will continue their efforts, you can be assured.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Renks and Cholan both said, which prompted some chuckles from around the table.

“I’d like to suggest that in the name of our common goal,” Morrow said as the laughs died down, “you work together. Not apart. I gather nothing positive happened because of your division.”

“Thankfully, the people never found out,” Seer added.

“I agree,” Picard said. “I’m going back aboard the Enterprise to monitor the progress of the plan. I can be back in moments if required.”

“I’ll be staying, though,” Morrow said, looking at the captain. Picard saw the confidence on his face and then cast a glance toward Crusher, awaiting confirmation. She nodded in agreement, so it was settled.

“Excellent,” Renks said. “Cholan, can you please ask An Revell An to have everything reconfigured once more?”

“Of course, Speaker,” Cholan replied, although to Picard’s practiced eye, the Bader councillor seemed none too thrilled with being given orders. This was the room that needed Crusher’s handiwork sooner than most, but he wouldn’t insult them by walking in carrying a hypo. Besides, Data had already arranged the flight paths, and the capital was going to be the first city to receive the treatment.

Picard nodded to the group and withdrew from the room, nodding in appreciation to Carmona on the way out. Once in the courtyard, he signaled the ship.

“Mr. Data, you may dispatch the shuttles.”

“Aye, sir.”

 

Troi and Vale were tired of the wild-goose chase. The security chief was ready to hunt down and shoot the goose, any goose, just so they could stop running around the planet. Instead, they continued to check out each report that implied the Riker men were involved. Sure enough, unidentified people had been stopping fights, repairing damage, and just recently, rescuing children at a school fire.

But they remained hours behind the duo. The two women were tired, and Troi had to admit she was pretty hungry, too.

The two were catching their breath at the site of the school fire. The building had collapsed in on itself, and emergency workers were hosing down the remains. The crowds had dispersed earlier, but some people lingered, talking about a man in odd, heavy clothing who rushed in and saved three children. Troi heard a woman mention that the bodies of four people had been found nearby, with incriminating equipment by them.

“The commander never would have done this,” Vale said as she stood over one of the bodies. The man’s neck had been snapped, the head lying at an unnatural angle.

“This was a brutal fight, not at all disciplined,” she observed. Troi would take the security chief at her word since the details were too subtle for her.

“Could Kyle Riker have done this?”

“Interesting question, Deanna. I know the man’s a trained specialist, and I gather he trained the commander as a kid. Could be. If Commander Riker saved the kids, his dad could have been here.”

“I only met Kyle once, and he certainly seemed fit enough for the task.”

“That was more than ten years ago, you said,” Vale added.

“True. If you’re right, this was something I never would have expected from him.”

“If it was Kyle Riker, he has to answer for this.” And the words hung between them. The notion of Kyle committing a crime like this, so brutal, so cold, made her shiver.

“You’re right, of course,” Troi finally said. “Where would they have gone from here?”

Vale pulled out her tricorder and began entering information. She paused, waiting for a result, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her left ear.

“They’re on an erratic but definite course back toward the capital.”

“Erratic?”

“They keep stopping to do things, like help with the fire.”

“It seems that Kyle Riker may be in control of their situation. He may be the one to have them stop and get involved. I would say he is exhibiting signs of a profound guilt.”

“What’s he guilty of?” Vale asked. “Other than this?”

“It’s all vague, but I have the notion that he feels responsible for what has happened here.”

“But he’s tactical, not medical. How could he be responsible?”

“A very good question, but I’m without a very good answer,” Troi admitted.

“Right now, he’s got some more immediate questions to answer for if you ask me,” the other woman said. “All right then, they’re headed for the capital. Maybe we can predict their next stop based on flight paths and reports on the local security net.”

Troi nodded and was about to respond when her communicator signaled.

“Data to Counselor Troi.”

“Troi here, Data.”

“Counselor, we have verified that the Enterprise is receiving a signal we believe may be from the commander.”

“Explain, please.”

“While performing a routine diagnostic, communications reported we were receiving a recurring position signal that seems aimed directly at the ship. Delta Sigma IV’s communications arrays do not use any Starfleet frequency.”

“But this signal does.”

“Correct. It took some time to identify it, and we have determined it matches a signal unique to personal communicators used by the populace. However, it is merely a positioning signal, and we cannot communicate directly.”

“Where is it coming from?”

“It is moving, currently on a direct line toward the capital.”

“Ah ha!” Vale exclaimed.

“What was that?”

“That, Mr. Data, was Lieutenant Vale feeling vindicated.”

“I see,” Data replied.

“Thank you for the information, Data. We’ll need to be beamed directly to their position as soon as they stop.”

“The transporter room is already standing by.”

“Good, Troi out.”

Vale was grinning and Troi had to appreciate the moment. They were both feeling that things were drawing to a conclusion. Standing amid the dead bodies, though, Troi wasn’t feeling particularly sanguine about how this would play itself out. In fact, she was beginning to fear for Kyle Riker’s, and by extension Will’s, safety.

 

Crusher stood in the courtyard at the Council’s makeshift headquarters. She had Nurse Weinstein beam down a device filled with the concentrated form of the synthesized compound that was used for the new plant life. Using her tricorder, she verified that everything was intact and the dosages were properly preset.

Before Picard returned to the Enterprise, she had suggested that she supervise the release of the compound near the councillors and stand by just in case. He approved the plan and then twinkled out of existence. Minutes later, the device arrived.

Wasdin entered the courtyard and looked at the squat metal object, noting its winking red and yellow lights.

“Our salvation is in something so…ugly.”

“Form over function,” Crusher said, making a final check.

“I don’t like the notion of being doped up.”

“I don’t like it either,” Crusher admitted. “I was opposed to this, but I can see the captain’s point. You need the time to address your future. I’m just providing you with that time.”

“But can my people make a decision when we’re not in our right minds?”

“Actually, you’re finally going to be in the enlightened, peaceful minds you’ve always considered natural to you. Now you understand why you cooperate. You can build from there.” She didn’t necessarily believe every word, but she needed to convince Wasdin that the starship crew was united behind the captain. She owed him that much loyalty.

They stood in silence for a moment and then the two doctors exchanged looks. It was time.

Crusher set a timer for thirty seconds and then stepped away from the device.

“It’ll emit the spray in five-second bursts until it’s empty. Based on the current weather, it should drift along the wind currents and spread,” Crusher explained.

“Will it be like a virus, spreading upon contact?”

“Eventually,” Beverly agreed. “These concentrated doses will actually be absorbed through the pores and immediately enter the bloodstream. The pass-along rate will happen once the new plant forms take root. We’re sort of kick-starting the process to bring some order back to the people.”

“So senseless,” Wasdin said.

“And we’re ending it…now,” the starship doctor said. A pink haze surrounded the device and then dissipated. With her tricorder, Crusher recorded it and nodded in approval. Moments later, another pink mist appeared, this time at a different angle. And then another.

Wasdin took in a lungful of misted air. “When will I feel something?”

“When you stop feeling like you want to hit me, you’ll know.”

“I certainly hope so, because I really don’t like that feeling.”

“Me either.”