The message from Starfleet had been curt. Assemble the senior officers. Prepare for a Security One message at 0900. Picard hadn't heard a Security One message since the Borg were headed for Earth. The highest level code. Extreme emergency. Override all other protocols. Abandon all previous orders.
Something serious had happened.
He leaned over the replicator. He had only a moment until the senior officers arrived.
"Earl Grey, hot," he said, and the empty space on the replicator shimmered before a clear glass mug filled with steaming tea appeared. He gripped the mug by its warm body, slipping his thumb through the handle, and took a sip, allowing the liquid to calm him.
He had no clue what this might be about and that worried him. He always kept abreast of activity in the quadrant. He knew the subtlest changes in the political breeze. The Romulans had been quiet of late; the Cardassians had been cooperating with Bajor. No new ships had been sighted in any sector, and no small rebel groups were taking their rebellions into space. Maybe it was the Klingons?
He should have had an inkling.
His door hissed open and Beverly Crusher came in.
Geordi La Forge was beside her. Data followed. The doctor and Geordi looked worried. Data had his usual look of expectant curiosity.
The door hadn't even had a chance to close before Deanna Troi came in. She was in uniform, a habit she had started just recently. Worf saw her and left his post on the bridge, following her to his position in the meeting room.
Only Commander Riker was missing and he was needed. Picard waited anxiously.
It was 0859.
Then the door hissed a final time and Will Riker entered. His workout clothes were sweat streaked, his hair damp. Over his shoulder he had draped a towel, which he instantly took off and wadded in a ball in his hand.
"Sorry, sir," he said, "but from your voice, I figured I wouldn't have time to change."
"You were right, Will," Picard said. "We're about to get a message from Starfleet Command. They requested that all senior officers be in attendance—"
The viewer on the captain's desk snapped on with the Federation's symbol, indicating a scrambled communiqué.
"Message sent to Picard, Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise V," said the generic female computer voice. "Please confirm identity and status."
Picard placed a hand on the screen on his desk. "Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain, U.S.S. Enterprise. Security Code 1-B58A."
The computer beeped.
Picard's palms were damp. He grabbed his cup of tea, but the tea was growing cold. Still, he drank the rest, barely tasting the tea's bouquet.
When the security protocol ended, the Federation symbol disappeared from the screen, replaced by the battle-scarred face of Admiral Kirschbaum. His features had tightened in that emotionless yet urgent expression the oldest—and best—commanders had in times of emergency.
"Jean-Luc. We have no time for discussion. A sensor array at the Furies Point has been destroyed. Five ships of unknown origin are there now, along with what seems to be a small black hole. Two of the ships attacked the Brundage Station and we're awaiting word on the outcome. I'm ordering all available ships to the area at top speed."
The Furies Point. Picard needed no more explanation than that. From the serious expressions all around him, he could tell that his staff understood as well.
Picard's hand tightened on the empty glass mug. He set it down before he shattered it with his grip. "We're on our way, Admiral."
"Good." The admiral's mouth tightened. "I hope I don't have to explain—"
"I understand the urgency, Admiral."
"If those ships are what we believe them to be, we're at war, Jean-Luc."
How quickly it had happened. One moment he was on the bridge, preparing for the day's duties. The next, this.
"I will act accordingly, Admiral."
The admiral nodded. "You don't have much time, Jean-Luc. I will contact you in one hour with transmissions from the attack on the Brundage outpost. It will give you and your officers some idea of what you are facing."
"Thank you, Admiral," Picard said.
"Godspeed, Jean-Luc."
"And to you," Picard said, but by the time the words were out, the admiral's image had winked away.
Picard felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
The Furies.
The rest of the staff looked as stunned as he felt.
Except for Data. When Picard met his gaze, Data said quietly, "It will take us two point three-eight hours at warp nine to reach Brundage Station."
"Then lay in a course, Mr. Data, and engage. We don't have time to waste."
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Star Trek: The Next Generation®
INVASION! Book Two
The Soldier of Fear
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