Chapter Two

CAPTAIN JEAN-LUC PICARD stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking at the sunny day. As was typical of San Francisco most of the year, there was a breeze, keeping the environs cool, and the wind brushed the lush trees dotting the campus that was Starfleet Command. He gazed at the buildings that were just about completely reconstructed after the Breen attack on Earth a year earlier. There were some stylistic differences from what originally stood there and he nodded in satisfaction that the Federation had prevailed.

Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets had expended much in the way of manpower and matériel during that war. The costs were quite high, probably the highest since the first Romulan War nearly two centuries earlier. Picard and the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise fought in the battles, doing their duty, but did not play as decisive a role as one would have thought of the Fleet’s flagship. Still, he was proud of how his people had conducted themselves, and appreciated the last few months when the majority of missions were satisfying, short, and didn’t require the phasers. But now he found himself back at Command headquarters. The communiqué from Admiral Ross was precise: return with all haste.

No sooner did his ship achieve orbit than a series of orders were issued. Picard and Counselor Deanna Troi were to beam to headquarters while Will Riker was to take temporary command and assist a border dispute between the Carreon, an independent world, and the Deltans, one of the older members of the Federation. While he trusted Riker with his ship, Picard was curious as to what was important enough to keep him and his counselor behind.

A day before, Picard mused, he had noticed a higher than normal incidence of daily briefings dealing with problems throughout the Alpha Quadrant. People going missing, races tangling over problems when peace existed merely a week earlier. It got him curious, but before he could begin investigating, he received his orders back to Earth. He was equally curious and more than a little anxious to tackle a big problem.

The sun was warm against his skin and Picard enjoyed a relaxed moment, although he was also growing tenser as he awaited the admiral and the briefing to follow. Troi was elsewhere, receiving a briefing of her own. He imagined they were connected but one could never tell with Starfleet Command.

“Calm before the storm, eh, Captain?”

Picard turned and saw Admiral Ross rounding a corner, his hand already out to greet the captain. Ross was slightly younger than Picard, but commanding the Fleet during the Dominion War took a lot out of him. Even as he tried to smile, Ross couldn’t shake the hangdog look on his face. His dark hair was flecked with gray and his eyes seemed tired. He looked fit, however, filling out his uniform nicely if a few kilos over the norm. Picard grasped the beefy hand and was approving of the firmness in the grip.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Admiral,” Picard replied.

“You tended to avoid our conferences fairly regularly,” Ross chided him. “Now I’m blessed with your presence twice in as many months. The pleasure is truly mine, even if we do only tend to see each other during crises.”

They stared out the window in companionable silence for a few brief moments and Picard suspected times like this came all too rarely for the admiral. Cadets and officers strolled leisurely by, ignoring the construction going on around them. Picard could see a substantial space for a new garden, a memorial, he was informed, for those who gave their lives during the war.

“All those lives given for our ideals,” Picard said.

Ross just nodded in agreement. “Not just ideals, but for the freedom to enjoy our choice of destiny. Worth fighting for again and again.

“Captain, we’re due to begin the conference in a minute, we should go in and get ready. Once it’s over, we’ll speak privately.”

“Yes, sir.” Picard was curious. How many others were summoned to Earth? There didn’t seem to be a preponderance of activity at Spacedock or in orbit. He hadn’t a chance to visit the Quantum Lounge so he couldn’t even pick up any gossip. Just as he could sense when his ship was the merest bit out of trim, he usually could tell when something was afoot at Command, but not this time.

“Our final speaker will be with us shortly, but we should go in to begin.”

Ross led the way to a set of double doors and walked through. The captain recalled this area as a simulator room, a chance for Command to run contingency plans before implementation. Certainly an odd choice for a meeting but once again, the mysteries of command preceded him.

The space was lined with holo-emitters in the usual crisscross pattern, all deactivated. A small console was on the far side of the room with a lieutenant, small in form, dark-skinned and utterly silent, standing by. And it was empty. Picard frowned in mild confusion.

“Singh, is the captain in the building yet?”

“Yes, sir, he’s just beamed down and should be here in three minutes.”

Ross walked toward the center of the room and gestured for Picard to stand by his side, about two feet away. The admiral nodded at the other man and small lights winked on in the space above and around them. In a matter of seconds, several dozen humanoid forms began taking shape and the captain began recognizing fellow officers. Quickly, he scanned the faces, looking for patterns, and it became apparent that these were captains of patrol and fighting vessels from all points across Federation space, as well as starbase commanders from strategic regions. The new holotechnology had clearly been improved, hence the lack of starships in orbit—they weren’t needed.

Picard noted, with some satisfaction, Mackenzie Calhoun among those gathered. The Xenexian officer had been thought recently dead, but managed to turn up quite alive just as Picard was dedicating the new U.S.S. Excalibur, after the original was destroyed, presumably with Calhoun still aboard. Calhoun spotted Picard beside Ross and gave him a relaxed smile. Also among the officers was Calhoun’s new wife, Elizabeth Shelby, now captain of the Trident after briefly commanding the Exeter. In fact, Picard had the pleasure of conducting the marriage ceremony right after dedicating the new starship. While he had his problems with Shelby’s style, Picard kept the opinion to himself since Calhoun obviously saw something about her to love.

Off to his right, a little farther behind the newly commissioned commander of the Exeter, whom he did not know, was Colonel Kira Nerys, from Deep Space 9. He had worked with Kira recently and found her to be hardedged, nothing at all like the previous commander Ben Sisko, but definitely a worthy successor. She was also the only non-Starfleet person participating, but given DS9’s importance, her presence made a certain sense. Standing beside her, looking intently curious, was Commander Elias Vaughn. The assignment of the enigmatic older officer to DS9 as Kira’s first officer seemed to agree with him—he looked more relaxed than he had when he’d been temporarily assigned to the Enterprise on their mission to the Badlands weeks earlier.

“Good afternoon,” Ross began in a deep voice. Many returned the greeting, some nodded; Solok of the T’Kumbra offered the Vulcan salute. “It’s nice to know our relay systems are fine-tuned enough to allow holoconferences like this to occur. It certainly beats trying to find parking orbits for all of you.” He smiled but he instantly knew the joke fell flat.

“I’m placing you all on yellow alert until further notice.” He paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing. “As for why we’re doing this, we have a new problem. A few days ago, the Federation Council was approached by a group of beings who identified themselves as the Iconians.” He paused again, letting the name seep into the minds of those assembled and waiting for the general reaction.

Sure enough, many widened their eyes, some nodded, others quickly asked “off-camera” officers to check the name.

“Captain Picard, would you please detail what we know of the Iconians?”

“Of course, Admiral.” He straightened his uniform and looked out among the sea of holo-images. Moving slowly in circle, he began. “The Iconians were known to exist in this quadrant of space some two hundred millennia ago. Their culture and technology were unparalleled in that time period but records about them are scant. About a decade ago, Captain Donald Varley of the
U.S.S. Yamato determined the location of their homeworld in the Romulan Neutral Zone, but was lost along with his ship when a destructive Iconian computer program inserted itself into the Yamato ’s mainframe. Even after all this time, the technology on the Iconian homeworld remained functional—including the gateways.

“These gateways provide instantaneous transport between two points that could be meters or light-years apart. Two functional gateways have been found over the last few years: one on the homeworld, which I myself destroyed rather than allow gateway technology to fall into Romulan hands; and one, discovered by the Dominion, in the Gamma Quadrant, which was destroyed by a joint Starfleet/Jem’Hadar team from the U.S.S. Defiant.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Ross said with a nod. “The Iconians who have come forward now have offered us the gateway technology for a price. The Council is considering the offer, but it’s a bit more complicated than that. First, they are offering the technology to the highest bidder. Similar offers have been made to governments throughout the quadrant. Clearly, this could have a devastating impact should any antagonistic or ambitious government obtain the technology exclusively.

“Second, and most immediate: the Iconians have chosen to demonstrate how useful the gateways can be by activating the entire network. Gateways have opened up all over the quadrant, and beyond. The Iconians have seen fit to withhold how to control them and they have chosen not to provide us with any form of useful map.”

As Ross paused, several captains passed on comments as the missing puzzle piece was provided to them. Picard was pleased that so many of his peers also noticed the higher number of incidents and now they knew why. However, Picard frowned, recognizing just how dangerous such a move was and how it struck him as wrong for a race as revered as the Iconians were.

Now he knew why Ross looked stressed and tired.

“As the gateways came online,” Ross continued, silencing the group, “we immediately began studying their output, trying to get a handle on how they work. We became rather alarmed at some of the readings, and so turned the study over to the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. We now have a preliminary report.”

As he stopped speaking, Picard became aware of a figure approaching him. The captain was so caught up in Ross’s revelation, and its implications, he never heard the doors open.

“Captain Scott, thank you for joining us.”

Montgomery Scott nodded at Ross, and then beamed at Picard. The crew of the Enterprise had rescued Scott from a transporter loop seven years earlier. Shortly thereafter, the original Enterprise engineer was loaned a shuttlecraft to find his place in the new universe. Picard heard Scott had spent some time actually working on Risa before accepting Starfleet’s offer to act as liaison between the S.C.E. and the admiralty. Their paths had crossed just a month or two previously and Picard couldn’t help but smile at the living legend.

“It’s nae a problem,” Scott began, his Scotch brogue a little heavier than before. “Those gateways, to be blunt, are behavin’ in ways we never imagined. It seems that when they exhaust their power, they tap into any other power supply that’s available. Like pussy willows here on Earth, that seek water and break into pipes to find it. These gateways are so beyond our ken tha’ figuring out how they tick and stoppin’ them will be almost impossible.”

Ross looked alarmed, even though he must have had some inkling of this prior to the briefing. “Do you mean, they could tap an entire planet’s resources and drain them dry?”

Scott took a deep breath. “Aye. Worse, for those worlds using predominantly geothermal or hydraulic power. Their ecosystem could be compromised. We don’ have all the figures in yet, but one o’ my ships is measuring solar consumption. My fear is some stars might be destabilized by additional power demands. It’s a very nasty bit o’ business.”

“All the more reason for us to mobilize the Fleet. Duty packets are going out now with specific sector assignments. We’ll need to maintain the peace. Some of our scientific vessels will be working with the S.C.E. to determine just how severe the problems might become. Captain Solok. . . .”

The Vulcan captain raised an eyebrow.

“I will want you and your crew to begin monitoring all incident reports from gateway activity. If the Iconians won’t give us a map, I want us to make one.”

“Understood. I should point out that it will not be complete and therefore not entirely accurate.”

“Noted,” Ross said. “I’ll take whatever we can get since it’s better than the nothing we have right now.” He turned to Kira and Vaughn. “Colonel, Commander, our scientists have done some preliminary mapping based on the gateway power signatures and we’ve discovered something very interesting out your way. We’re estimating no gateway activity within ten light-years in any direction of Bajor.”

Vaughn’s eyes closed to slits. “The wormhole.”

“We think so, yes.”

Kira added, “It could be the Prophets protecting this region.” Picard instinctively wanted to dismiss the idea, trying to keep possible deities out of the complicated mix, but he had to admit, be they Prophets or alien lifeforms, they wielded considerable power.

“That’s certainly a possibility,” admitted Ross. “Vaughn, given your experience with the gateways, I want you out there, finding out why there aren’t any gateways near Bajor. Is it something natural? Is it the doing of the aliens—that is to say, the Prophets?” he amended with a respectful glance at Kira. “What properties are being displayed, and can they be harnessed beyond your sector?”

Nodding, Vaughn said, “You’re hoping we can turn it into a practical countermeasure.”

“Exactly.”

Picard was more interested in what Ross had said about Vaughn’s experience. As far as he knew, he, Worf, and Data had been the first to discover a functioning gateway, and he’d always been a little jealous that Worf had encountered a second. “I was unaware, Admiral, of any encounters with gateways beyond those by the Enterprise and the Defiant.”

With a look at her first officer, Kira said, “Neither was I.”

“It was a few years ago,” Vaughn said neutrally.

Ross gave Picard a reassuring look. “The relevant portions of Commander Vaughn’s mission will be declassified in light of the present emergency.”

Picard nodded. “Good.”

As Ross and Kira discussed another assignment of DS9’s relating to the Europa Nova colony, which needed to be evacuated, Picard stared at Vaughn. There was layer upon layer of story shrouding the man. How much of it could be true? he mused. Given DS9’s own checkered history and its enigmatic wormhole aliens, Vaughn was probably even better suited to the place than Picard had imagined.

Before he could let his mind wander further, he heard Calhoun’s name.

“Captain, you and the Excalibur will go deep in Thallonian space. There’s a concentration of gateway signatures that bears investigation.”

“We don’t habitually go shallow in Thallonian space, Admiral. ‘Deep’ is our status quo. Can you give us a bit more of a hint than that?”

Picard inwardly winced at Calhoun’s comment. Even after all this time, the warrior showed through the veneer of Starfleet training.

“We’ll forward the coordinates to your science officer,” Ross said curtly.

“Thank you. What do the gateway signatures say, by the way? ‘With all our love, the Iconians’?”

“Captain,” said Ross, his voice sounding less pleased by the moment, “I’m obviously referring to energy signatures, not autographs, and this is no laughing matter.”

“You’re only saying that, Admiral, because your joke didn’t get a laugh.”

Picard glanced over at Ross and saw his hands forming fists, knuckles whitening.

“Admiral,” Shelby cut in, “if I may . . .”

“Please do, Captain,” Ross said. At least Shelby knew proper protocol, Picard thought. She might help defuse the moment.

“I have a new crewman on my ship. She came to me through the Temporal Displacement Office, and she described the means through which she got here as a sort of ‘gateway.’ I don’t think she used the term in the ‘ official’ capacity you’re using here, but it may well be the same technology.”

“Transporting through time and space?” He looked grim. “These things may be even more powerful than we had previously imagined. Was she on the Iconian homeworld or in the Gamma Quadrant?”

“I don’t believe it was either, sir. She’d filed a report with the TDO; obviously it wasn’t passed along to you.”

“Damned paperwork trail,” Picard said. “Thanks to modern technology, the left hand can be oblivious of the right hand’s activities with greater efficiency than ever.”

This drew more chuckles. “Careful, Picard,” Calhoun said. “He hates it when other people get more laughs than he does.”

“Captain!” Ross snapped.

“Yes, sir?” said at least two dozen of those present.

Ross winced, then spoke to Shelby even as he gave Calhoun a withering glance. “In light of the current situation, Captain Shelby, speak with this crewwoman and see what further details you can learn. Send a report directly to me, if you’d be so kind.”

He handed out a few other specific assignments, especially to vessels near the Klingon and Romulan borders. Then he concluded with: “These will be some trying days ahead of us all. I want to keep in constant contact and I’ll be reachable any time you need me. Good luck.”

The holo-images winked out almost entirely at once, leaving Ross, Picard, Scott, and the technician standing in the barren room. It was a quiet moment, filled with both energy and tension.

“Ye know,” Scott said, “we may have found it first.”

“Found what?” Ross asked.

“A gateway. Tha’ talk of temporal displacement had me thinking back to my Enterprise’ s encounters. And well, one thought led to another and I recall my
Enterprise being a thousand light-years from its origin point in just a blink.”

Ross looked at him askance. “Gateways aren’t that big.”

“Who’s to say,” Scott said in turn, rocking on his heels, looking a little satisfied. “How else do ye explain that?”

“I don’t,” Ross said curtly. Clearly he disliked the direction of the conversation and fell silent.

Picard allowed that silence to last barely half a second and then finally raised his own concern. “Admiral, I still do not see why I was brought to Earth . . . and my ship sent on without me.”

Ross gestured for them to head for the door. Scott ambled over to the technician, knowing the two needed to be alone. The two officers left the room and began walking down the gleaming corridors of Starfleet Headquarters. It dawned on Picard how empty they seemed, with office doors closed and overhead communications muted. Now he felt the vibration of work being done, as if everything went into motion as the holoconference was being conducted.

“Jean-Luc, you and Varley shared a deep interest in the Iconians. In fact, you may now be Starfleet’s foremost authority on them.”

Picard nodded but added, “In the Fleet maybe, but Professor Chi Namthot at Memory Alpha has continued to analyze what we found on Iconia.”

“Be that as it may, you have the qualifications to help us.” Ross continued walking, barely noticing those around him. His voice grew grave. “To be candid with you, we in Starfleet do not think these are really Iconians.”

Picard paused, turning to look at Ross’s expression. He saw only seriousness and maybe exhaustion as the eyebrows hunched further down. Despite all the findings on Iconia, not a single image of an Iconian had been identified, so they remained a visual enigma.

“I’ve read your logs, I’ve even seen excerpts of Namthot’s work. None of us believe a race as sophisticated as the Iconians would merely want to sell this technology. The Council, however, cannot dismiss the possibility after all this time and are negotiating in good faith. We have to be fully prepared for whatever the outcome. If we gain the technology, another race such as the Breen might see that as a prelude to war. If we do not gain the technology, other races might use it to dominate this quadrant or more. The Orions are engaged in aggressive negotiations with the Iconians on Farius Prime right now, and I don’t have to tell you what a disaster it would be if those pirates got their hands on the technology. Should these prove to be other than real Iconians we need to know who they really are. Right now, diplomacy is going on so we cannot do invasive medical scans. From surface scans, we do not recognize the physiology so they are at least alien to this section of space. Their starships are also of unfamiliar design using some ion-based propulsion unique to themselves.”

“How do they act?”

“Formal, following all of our diplomatic protocols. They came already knowing Federation Standard so we can’t guess at their native tongue. I attended two working sessions at the President’s request and came away feeling uneasy. I guess winning a war gets me a little credibility because once he heard that, I was authorized to begin mobilizing the Fleet, just in case.”

Picard looked at him, steeling himself for the hard question. “Are you afraid of another war?”

Ross shook his head slowly. “We can’t afford one, Jean-Luc. The Fleet is seriously stretched thin after losing so many ships to the Borg and Dominion. Shipbuilding takes time, training crews takes time, and if that technology ends up with the Romulans, or the Orions, or even the Jem’Hadar, we might become very, very vulnerable.”

“I see,” Picard replied slowly. Already, he was creating and rejecting scenarios that showed how the Federation would stack up against an aggressor gifted with a gateway network. The picture was grim, adding further importance to the mission, whatever his role was to be.

“We’re surprised by how easily the Iconians are operating on Earth since our gravity differs from Iconia. Also factor in over two hundred millennia of genetic growth and they seem too comfortable. My gut says we have two problems: them and the gateways. I’ve sent everyone else out, including your boy Riker, to handle the gateways. I need you to handle the Iconians.”

Picard was surprised, since it sounded like he’d be apart from his ship and crew for longer than he would have liked. By now, their wandering had led to a briefing room, on the opposite side of the building. Ross had led them here, through the silent, empty corridors, and escorted him inside. Seated at the grand, U-shaped table was Troi, a data padd by her hand. Her eyes grew wide, signaling to Picard that she still wasn’t certain why she was here. The captain smiled and nodded slightly.

“Counselor Troi, it’s nice to see you again.” Ross greeted her with a quick handshake, while at the same time gesturing for her to remain seated. The admiral slipped behind the podium at the open section of the U and tapped on a console. The screen behind him came to life and a map of the Alpha Quadrant appeared.

“I suspect we do not have a lot of time,” Ross began. “Therefore, since we’re spread thin, I’m asking for your help in assembling a quadrant-wide delegation. I have two vessels ready for you, and one for myself.

Ambassador Lojal has been freed up by the Diplomatic Corps to pay a few visits on our behalf. We’re going on a journey, asking for representatives of the key races in our quadrant to come speak as one with the Iconians. If nothing else, I want us to present a united front, asking them to close the gateways until negotiations are over. I’m hoping that will buy the negotiating team some time, and give the Fleet a chance to regroup in a more battle-ready way. Captain Picard, I will ask you to head up that delegation.”

The captain looked sharply from the map to Ross. “Me? Sir, if you’re helping to assemble this group, it should be the ranking officer who . . .”

“Picard, you have a reputation almost unequaled in the Fleet. When the Borg attacked Earth, you took command and managed to knock out the cube.”

“Disobeying direct orders to stay away,” Picard added quietly.

Ross’s eyes twinkled for a brief moment. “All’s forgiven. You have dealt with the key races: Klingons, Romulans, Gorn . . . and have earned their respect one way or another. And, you know the Iconian culture better than I ever will. My gut instincts got us this far but I need you, your experience, and your own instincts to take us further.”

“And me, sir, what is my role?” Troi asked.

“Counselor, you carry the standard of the Enterprise, just as respected as Picard himself. Your empathic skills will be necessary to help us sort out who our real allies are and to back up Picard’s sense of the Iconians. You make an excellent team.”

Troi smiled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“It’s earned, Counselor. “

“But why not more from the Federation’s diplomats?”

Ross looked grim. “The gateways have caused so much trouble that the entire Diplomatic Corps has been sent out to help mediate problems or escort lost people home. There’s no one left to send. You’ll join the
Mercury and approach the Gorn first. I have your flight plan already worked out.”

Troi nodded. Then Ross turned to Picard. “Our ambassador on Qo’noS has already arranged a meeting for you with Chancellor Martok. That’ll be your first stop aboard the Marco Polo.”

“Sir, I’d much rather do this aboard the Enterprise,” Picard protested.

“I need that ship out there on active duty. You don’t need it to make these visits. I’ll be out too, starting with the Romulans. Our alliance remains intact, but this will no doubt add strain so I need to give it the personal touch. Then it’s off to the wild-card regions—Melkots, Metrons.”

“Any thought about Organian intervention?”

“No, Counselor. They haven’t appeared in so long, it’s our opinion that they forced a peace between the Federation and Klingons to steer us where we are today. Whatever their concerns are, they are clearly not directed our way.”

“I see. That does make sense.”

Ross smiled tightly. “Of all the powerful beings out there, I’m more than thankful that only one of them seems interested in dealing with us. Imagine if we were bothered by the Q, and the Organians, even the Excalbians, and . . .”

“We understand,” Picard said, cutting off Ross. It pained him to see how the admiral was handling the new pressure. As far has could tell, Ross saw this as a larger problem than the Dominion. And he couldn’t argue.

“Gateways are marvelous tools, but in the hands of those who would exploit it, the problems clearly outweigh the benefits.” He stood, tugging his uniform into place. “We had best get to our ships and begin lining up our allies. If Mr. Scott is right, and I’m willing to bet he is, we have entire planets to worry about.”

Ross agreed and handed them padds from the lectern. The captain and the counselor accepted them and strode from the room in one direction while Ross went the opposite way. Once they were some distance, Picard slowed his gait and turned to his counselor.

“What do you think?”

“Ross is a good man. He’s very concerned over how many variables have to be kept in check and he’s very worried that Starfleet is not yet up to a challenge of this magnitude. He needs to head this off now. That’s why four of us are making the contacts.”

Picard slightly nodded in agreement. “He’s right that the Enterprise is best off helping those in need but still . . .”

Now Troi smiled. “I know, it’s not the same: not the same ship or same crew. It’s just to gather the people together, you’ll be fine.”

“Am I that obvious, Counselor?”

“Just to those of us you’ve led.”

Changing the subject, Picard added, “Did you know Mr. Scott may have beaten me to the gateways?”

“Do tell,” she implored. She liked Scotty and had grown to appreciate the exploits of that Enterprise and its crew, so any new story was welcome.

“I can’t. I need to look up the facts since Ross interrupted. Still, imagine a gateway big enough for a starship . . . how that could change space travel.”

Troi smiled and said, “If you had gateways, you wouldn’t need such huge ships. Seems almost wasteful to use that much power to open such a large hole in space.”

“And I thought you were the dreamer in my crew.”

“Oh, I am, sir,” she said. “I just don’t dream about holes in space.”

“Landik Mel Rosa, I must insist you stand down.”

“Would that I could, Commander Riker, but you see, I have weapons trained on me and were I to lower my shields, well, I certainly would be tempted to fire if I could.”

Stroking his smooth chin, Riker shifted uncomfortably in the command seat. On the forward viewscreen was a tactical display showing the planet standing between the Deltan and Carreon vessels. Sensors showed both sides were running hot, although neither had fired since the Enterprise dropped out of warp, entering the solar system. Were a firefight to break out, the Enterprise could not protect any other ship. Since he was still unclear on the dispute itself, Riker could not take sides although, strictly speaking, since the Deltans were members of the Federation they deserved his protection. Still, if they were the aggressors, they might have it coming.

“Stand by,” Riker declared and signaled for the com channel to close. He stood, crossing the short distance to where Data sat at ops. Putting one foot on the side of the console, he leaned forward, resting an arm on the raised knee. “Opinion, Mr. Data.”

The gold-skinned android turned his head slightly and frowned. “Sensors have detected identical readings in this system that I match with that of the Iconian gateways.”

Riker looked at him in surprise. “I thought we destroyed the one on their homeworld.”

“We did. It seems there are others, as suspected, throughout this section of space. As a result, both races could have come here through the two gateways and found themselves in conflict over the planet.”

“Does either have a legitimate claim?” Riker’s mind raced through his memories of the gateway encounter, recalling being on the bridge throughout most of the action. Picard knew the Iconian legends; Riker only had a passing knowledge. Clearly, the first officer needed to brush up on them if those gateways were the cause of the conflict.

“Negative. Computer records indicate both sides have clashed over this planet in the past. It has remained unclaimed and undeveloped.”

Riker nodded.

“Commander, three more vessels approaching this system,” called out Lieutenant Christine Vale. Currently security chief, she took over the tactical station once the Enterprise left Earth orbit and had provided briefings on Deltan and Carreon ship configurations and armaments. She even found time to drill the photon torpedo teams in case the flagship got caught in the crossfire and they needed to stop both sides simultaneously. Despite her diminutive size, Vale commanded respect and got it from Picard on down.

“Whose side are they are on?” Riker asked.

“Deltan vessels, hot and ready for fire.”

“Advantage, Deltans,” Riker muttered, watching the ten vessels on the screen.

In a clear voice, he spoke out. “Captain Oliv, this is Commander Riker of the Enterprise. I must ask that your support ships stand down and remain at the edge of the system. If they come closer, the Carreon will see this action as hostile.”

A moment later, an audio-only response was heard. “I’m sorry, Commander, but too long have we waited for a chance to tame this world and my government would have it be today.”

Riker grimaced, sensing the battle to come. “That’s for the Federation diplomats to decide. Let’s get a negotiator out here to meet with you and the Carreon and we can get this settled without a fight.”

“I’d rather not wait, thank you,” the Deltan replied, the voice soft, milky. Then he cut the connection.

“I always thought they were lovers, not fighters,” Riker said.

“Actually, Commander,” Data said, “the Deltans are known for their passions. While renowned throughout the Federation for their physical prowess in the art of lovemaking, they are also passionate in all their tasks including fighting. Some fourteen different boxing, fencing, and armament titles are held by Deltans and have been for the last decade.”

“Swell.” Riker furiously tried to think through the options available to him. After all, the last thing he wanted was to bear witness to a slaughter, especially over an uninhabited world.