Chapter 6

Geordi La Forge was crossing the bridge, a padd in his hand, and Riker knew it was coming time to make a decision. He didn’t want to make it, didn’t necessarily feel as if he was the right officer to decide the fate of the Iconian legacy. It was, after all, his captain’s fascination for all these years. No, it didn’t feel right at all to be the one to decide to destroy the gateways. The specter of guilt was already hanging over his head.

“We can do it, but we still don’t know where they all are,” La Forge said, handing the padd to the commander.

“Data, how is Captain Solok doing with the mapping mission?”

“Our latest information shows that a preliminary map is due to be delivered to Admiral Ross in fifteen and one quarter hours.”

Somehow, an android and a Vulcan would be comfortable with such precision. To Riker, fifteen hours from now would suffice. By then, the decision would have been made and it would be out of Riker’s hands. What remained to be decided, though, was what to do with the Petraw. They had remained silent since the sabotage effort so the jamming signal was doing its job, but they couldn’t maintain that in perpetuity.

Riker stood with the padd and studied the engineer’s recommendations as he strolled toward the ready room. He would contact the other captains from there and announce the decision. The commander was so absorbed with the information he did not notice the crewman coming his way and they collided. Both men tumbled to the deck.

Once on the carpeted floor, Riker looked up and saw Picard’s face.

“Sir!”

“At ease, Will,” Picard said with a smile. Both men scrambled to their feet and were the center of attention as everyone else on the bridge stood and came close to their commanding officer.

“Is everything all right? Did you find the answer?”

“I believe so,” Picard said, patting the bag that remained at his side.

Quickly, Riker updated the captain on what had transpired, and in turn Picard explained his planet-jumping and search for the Resonators. He handed the tricorder to Data and asked him to begin the required analysis.

“We can swap details later,” Picard said. “Let me notify the others that I am back and that we will need to act shortly. And then, I think, I need a shower and hot meal.”

Riker broke into a grin. “I think I can watch things a little while longer.”

“Very well.” The captain began toward his ready room, paused, then turned around. “It’s good to see you again, Number One. I’ve missed the ship.”

Riker nodded, still smiling, and once more settled into the command chair. It didn’t feel so uncomfortable for a change.

A few hours later, a refreshed Picard sat at the conference table with Riker, La Forge, Crusher, and Data. He had asked Captain Troi to patch in from her post on the Marco Polo to get her input. The others would be notified after the briefing. Data was standing by the monitor screen that showed a stellar map with the thirteen purple sites still highlighted.

“The pattern of dispersal does not, as yet, make sense,” the android began. “All are located on planets and fortunately, all thirteen planets still exist. All are within Klingon, Romulan, Ferengi, or Federation space, aside from two that are within the former Thallonian Empire in Sector 221G.”

“Data,” Picard said, “does overlaying this pattern with the pattern of migration from Iconia tell us anything?”

“No immediate pattern is discernible. However, I will give the matter further study.” Picard frowned briefly but nodded. “How do we get the thirteen Resonators into position?”

“I have endeavored to work out a travel plan. It will require relaying the Resonators to fast ships from here. My initial plan indicates it will take some twenty-eight point five hours if every ship makes its scheduled rendezvous. This will require the Enterprise, Marco Polo, Chargh, and Jerok to leave the area, spreading the Resonators to others.”

Nodding, Picard said, “Obviously, we should use the Excalibur and the Trident for the two Thallonian gateways.”

“Captain,” Riker said hesitatingly, “Admiral Ross suspects both Captains Calhoun and Shelby entered a gateway.”

“I see,” the captain said slowly. Then he smiled. “I am not at all surprised, Number One. No doubt he’ll have his own story to tell and it’s one I’m looking forward to.”

Riker let out an exasperated sigh and said, “I’ll talk to Mueller and Burgoyne and make a plan.” He shook his head, clearly thinking about the crew of the ill-fated starships.

Data went on, detailing how the ships should move out with recommended warp speeds and courses. Working at his superhuman speed, he managed to work out thirteen different itineraries that would cover a vast swatch of the galaxy in the minimum amount of time. Picard was impressed all over again with how smoothly his crew functioned.

“Captain,” Troi said from the adjacent viewscreen. “What about the Petraw?”

“I have not come up with a satisfying answer as yet,” Picard admitted. “As we leave, I will need the Qob and Glory to take charge.”

“With their attempt at sabotage, they cannot be trusted to remain complacent with fewer ships present,” Data said.

“I recommend we disable as many of the ships as possible,” La Forge suggested.

“I’m not sure I see a better solution,” Picard said slowly, not happy with the notion. “Prepare your plans, Geordi. Will, contact the vessels we’ll be meeting with. Deanna, relay word to the other captains in the area. Let’s try and leave within the hour. Dimissed.”

Quickly and efficiently, the crew stood and went about their business and Picard was left alone in the observation lounge. While it felt good to be home, he disliked waiting more than a day to conclude the business at hand. And he kept thinking back to the world and little Chanik, faithfully waiting for the signal that would help protect a galaxy from chaos.

As expected, the Romulan commander was the first to be in touch with the captain. She seemed cool and collected despite her ship being anything but battle-ready.

Picard was now in his ready room, having caught himself up on status reports from his ship and around the fleet. He looked at the screen on his desk and acknowledged the darkly attractive woman.

“If you leave, it will only embolden the Petraw to try and conduct more sabotage.”

“Have you a suggestion?”

“Destroy a handful of random ships, disable more, and even the odds.”

“How Klingon of you,” Picard noted, satisfied at the scowl marring her pleasant features. “I have my chief engineer preparing plans to disable the entire Petraw fleet as opposed to destroying anyone. This way, when we’re done, we can decide what to do with them.”

“You don’t have a plan? I am most surprised.”

“Honestly, Desan, I have been more than a bit busy.”

“Just what did you find on the other side?” She leaned toward the screen, intense curiosity replacing the scowl.

“The Resonators were found on the last Iconian stronghold in the Alpha Quadrant, a world reduced to much more primitive standards. But, they’re developing nicely, and one in particular helped me find them. It was quite an enlightening experience. When I return, if time permits, we can talk some more of it. But for now, I want you to know that I am placing my faith in the accords between our people and my personal trust in you to maintain the peace.”

Desan seemed surprised by the vote of confidence and her expression betrayed her, pleasing the captain. She would make a questionable poker player, he considered. She merely nodded at the words and clicked off the communication.

Before he could pick up the next padd on the tall stack to his right, the screen beeped once and he saw that it was the Kreechta captain calling. This might be a problem or, more likely, a diverting conversation.

“How can I help you DaiMon Bractor?”

“I want you to know I appreciate your faith.”

This surprised Picard, who rested his chin on his fist and considered the situation. The Ferengi had a reputation for underhandedness overall. His own dealings had proven they could be spiteful and capable of killing.

“To be honest with you, DaiMon,” Picard said, a smile on his face,

“trust has to be earned and you have earned it.”

Bractor bowed in appreciation. “There can be profit in many forms, I’m told. I consider this an investment against the future.”

“The results should bring us closer together,” Picard said hopefully.

“Thank you,” the toothy captain said in all sincerity. “Will you bring Doral along with you to keep him from influencing the others?”

“I hadn’t considered him,” the captain admitted. In fact, he hadn’t even asked after the dejected Petraw leader. “But what you say makes sense, so yes, he will accompany us.”

“And should you find something of value when you put all the Resonators in place….”

“As promised, if there’s something to share, it will be shared with all. You need not fear being cheated.”

“All hands have returned,” Jessie Davison told Captain Troi.

She smiled and turned to face the screen before her. Already, the hulking Jerok was moving off, heading out at sublight speed and clearing distance until it could go into warp. The Enterprise was to move off next and then it would be their turn. The flight plan had already been entered, thanks to Data’s inhuman speed. Mia Chan, her conn officer, grumbled good-naturedly about having nothing to do during the flight. Troi reassured her that they had stops to make along the way and her skills would be required.

The turbolift doors snapped open, admitting a trio onto the bridge. Johnny Rosario, the tactical officer, strode out first, looking a bit tired after his “baby-sitting” duties on one of the Petraw ships. No sooner did he enter the bridge than Chan jumped from her seat and ran to him.

She gave him a fierce bear hug that startled him and he wasn’t sure where to place his hands. A look of panic was in his eyes when it became clear everyone was watching. After a few moments, when it became apparent Chan wasn’t letting go, he tentatively placed his arms around her and returned the unbridled affection.

“I think I have feelings for you,” she said giddily.

“I see, I see,” he said slowly. The others around the bridge chuckled at that understatement.

“Affectionate crew,” rumbled a voice from behind the couple. Troi knew it in an instant and stood at attention.

“Welcome aboard, Ambassador,” she said, a wide grin showing her pleasure. She and Worf had been lovers once but now they were friends and she was genuinely glad to see him. Despite the length of the mission, not once did they have a chance to speak.

When the others realized the Klingon was in their midst, most returned their attention to padds or consoles. The couple blocking his entrance to the bridge started disentangling themselves, making excuses and apologies but accomplishing it with little grace.

“I try to run a comfortable ship,” Troi said, finally walking around her embarrassed officers and giving Worf a much briefer hug of her own. Worf, like Rosario, was at first discomfited with the display, but gave her the briefest of hugs in return.

“The Resonators are still in the transporter room,” he said, returning to business.

“Enterprise is beginning to move out,” Science Officer Kal Sur Hol said. The look of distaste on his face made Troi want to laugh. The Tiburonian seemed disdainful of anything not by the book, and interpersonal relationships seemed a bit beyond him. She had hoped to work on him, but hadn’t come close.

“Do you think Geordi’s plan will work?”

“As I understand it,” Worf said, “he is using the escape patterns already programmed by the Petraw ships and is sending along polaron bursts to prevent them from beaming or using their engines. The Nyrians were most helpful in setting this up.” “Seems we made new friends,” Troi said.

“They still want to return home,” the ambassador noted.

“With luck, the captain will get them on their way. Okay, time to go to work.” She shifted in her seat, leaning slightly forward.

“Helm, prepare to execute. Engineering, when we go to warp, we need to maintain maximum speed so keep an eye on the readings. Everyone, stand by to move out,” Troi commanded. The staff snapped to work, a chorus of “aye’s” filling the air. Worf stood by her side and seemed impassive.

Within a minute, they were clear to leave and the Marco Polo executed a clean arc, angling itself in a direction that would bring them to the first of two rendezvous locations. At sublight, they would need several minutes before they could enter warp space and the time was filled with status reports, relay checks, and the quiet hustle of any starship in Starfleet.

“Ready for warp,” Chan announced, her hand tugging at her ear, her only display of nervousness.

“Warp seven, engage,” Troi said.

The ship surged forward and the screen showed the shift into warp space and then another round of status checks filtered the air. Finally, the Klingon leaned down and whispered, so only Troi could hear,

“You command them well. I am impressed.”

Rather than say anything, she leaned up, kissed him on the cheek and laughed as his eyes went wide. Davison, to her right, chuckled, and Worf left the bridge, his speed making the ambassadorial robes flutter.

“Time to rendezvous with the Trident and Excalibur,” Riker asked.

“Fourteen minutes,” Data responded.

The Enterprise had been cruising along at warp nine with no incidents. They had left the Petraw ships behind them ten hours earlier, allowing the crew to return to their normal routines. Which meant a rested Riker was in command and Picard was off-duty. People had time to eat or sleep, La Forge was able to run required diagnostics to prepare a maintenance schedule for their next stop at a starbase, and things were feeling normal for the moment.

Against all that, though, was the specter of chaos represented by the still-functioning gateways. Wars had broken out, natural disasters were occurring more frequently as the ancient technology began to harm the worlds it had once serviced. If Picard was right, the fourteen Resonators would either automatically close down the gateways, or at the least, give him control over them for the first time. If the latter, it represented awesome power and crushing responsibility. Starfleet, though, trusted him to make the right decision, since he had not once let them down.

Riker also took time to quickly review what he knew of the ships he was meeting. The Excalibur he had very briefly taken command of a few months back was gone, destroyed thanks to a madman. The ship on its way was a rechristened Galaxy-class vessel that Mackenzie Calhoun took command of in the wake of his return from the “dead.” Picard was there for the christening, and had regaled his crew with the story of how he was ready to make Elizabeth Shelby the captain just as Calhoun turned up. He wound up with the ship; Picard wound up performing the wedding ceremony between the two. Shelby got command of the Trident, an Ambassador-class vessel.

Shelby irritated the first officer, mostly because of her strident attitude, but deep down he suspected they were more alike than not and that was where the problem lay. A key difference between them was her ambition, and he presumed she should be somewhat mellowed now that she had both Calhoun and a ship of her own.

Still, the reports from Starfleet were disturbing, since they indicated that both ships were involved in trying to settle a gateway-inspired war between the Aerons and the Markanians. Somehow, this led both Captains Shelby and Calhoun to enter a gateway and were now presumed missing. If they were not recovered, it would be a tremendous loss.

Trident to Enteprise.

Riker looked up and saw an attractive woman with dark blond hair tied in a knot at the top of her head, cobalt-blue eyes, and an intriguing scar on her left cheek. This was Kat Mueller, who had been the night-shift commander on the previous Excalibur. “Riker here.”

“Commander Mueller, in temporary command of the Trident.

“So I understand. Sorry to hear about Captain Shelby. She was a fine officer.” “I would disagree,” Mueller said, a hint of humor in her eye.

“I’m sorry?”

“She is a fine officer and will be rejoining us just as soon as we complete this assignment.”

Riker smiled at that and added, “Well, that’s good news. Calhoun as well?”

“The man cheats death more often than anyone in the Fleet.” Riker was growing to like this woman by the moment. He hadn’t gotten to know her very well during his brief tenure on the Excalibur.

“I’ll take that as a yes. We won’t have a lot of time so we’re hoping to beam the Resonator en route.”

“Beam a single object as we pass one another at high warp? That’s imaginative.”

“Born out of desperation, I admit,” he said.

“Very well, we trust you will get it right the first time.”

“Well, there’s no time for a second attempt if we’re to repeat this with Excalibur.”

As expected, the highly trained staff of the Enterprise managed the feat with minimal fuss and the two ships sped off toward different stars. Less than thirty minutes later, the Excalibur came within range. This time, Riker was exchanging pleasantries with Burgoyne 172, the ship’s newly minted first officer.

“We’ll be transporting the Resonator in about a minute,” Riker told the Hermat. He remembered Burgoyne to be a complex but companionable person, and suspected s/he would make a fine first officer.

“Don’t you find this a tad convenient?”

“In what way?”

“Needing both of our ships and you being the only ship to bring us the Resonators?”

“I’m sorry, Burgoyne, I don’t follow you. There was no other ship with the power to make the contact while we had our own objective. Did you want some other ship?”

“No, just odd us crossing over like this,” Burgoyne said archly.

Riker shook his head in confusion and let the subject drop. Instead, he monitored the two ships’ trajectory and saw the five-second window that would enable the transport to occur. A signal came from the transporter chief that the Enterprise was now down to carrying just one Resonator. Nodding in agreement, he turned to Data and had the ship adjust course to their final destination.

Troi and Worf had just finished a meal in her temporary quarters, two old friends catching up their lives and friends. It was quite pleasant for her to share her happiness with the Klingon and she saw that the melancholy he normally wore as a cloak was just a bit lighter. Time was finally beginning to heal the wound caused by Jadzia Dax’s death. She saw he was not at all ready to find another partner, but at least was comfortable back among his people.

“I think being an ambassador agrees with you,” she said, placing the dishes in the replicator bay for recycling.

“It has its challenges…. and rewards,” Worf agreed.

“When this is over, what’s next?”

“Back to Qo’noS, and moving on to the next assignment.”

“Do you think our politics have been permanently altered by these events?”

“No,” Worf said after a moment. He took the glasses from the table and brought them to her. “This is like any disruptive event we’ve encountered such as viruses or the Borg. We adapt and grow and learn from it.”

“Captain to the bridge,” rang out the intercom.

“Troi here. What is it, Commander?”

Davison replied, “We have the Defiant on our sensors. Contact in five minutes.”

Troi concentrated a moment, recalling the specific instructions for this phase of the mission. “Slow to sublight, I’ll be right there.” Together, they left the cabin and quickly found their way to the bridge, where everyone snapped to attention. Clearly the presence of the hulking Klingon ambassador made everyone act by the book. This inwardly made her chuckle but kept her expression all business. Taking her seat, she checked a status chart, then activated the communications system.

“Marco Polo to Defiant.”

“Vaughn, here.” Elias Vaughn, just over one hundred years of age, appeared on the screen. He still had his full beard, his hair all gray, but she saw that he seemed as relaxed as he was when they had last seen each other on the Enterprise a month earlier. Clearly, his decision to take a post at Deep Space 9 was the right choice, despite Starfleet’s reservations.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Commander.”

“Imagine my surprise to find you with your own command,” Vaughn said, humor filling his voice. “I see it agrees with you. Ian would be proud. And greetings to you, Ambassador Worf.”

“Commander,” Worf said in return. Troi suspected that Worf had not seen Vaughn since they had met at Betazed during the war. Then, Vaughn was a floating tactical operative without a specific ship assignment. Now he was first officer on DS9 and also had Worf’s old job of commanding the Defiant.

They shared a laugh and then it was all business as Troi gave a series of commands that led to the Resonator and Ambassador Worf being beamed to the Defiant. That ship’s designation took it close to the Klingon border and should any problems flare up, it made the most sense for the ambassador to be present. The Chargh, already deep within the Empire, would collect Worf later on and bring him back to the Klingon homeworld. She gave him another long hug as he left the bridge and then returned to her center seat.

“I don’t know much about Commander Vaughn,” Davison said.

“What’s he like?”

Troi smiled. She’d known Vaughn since she was a child—the “Ian” he had referred to was Troi’s father. Enigmatically, she said, “He’s an interesting fellow.”

The planet was barren and desolate, so small and unimportant the stellar cartographers never bothered to give it a name. It was catalogued as PI-3–3 over a hundred years earlier and Starfleet’s records indicated that no one had ever been there. Far from the trading lanes, it was strategically unimportant, and barely Class M, so not worth the effort to colonize.

Picard stared at the viewscreen and was unimpressed. Yet, down below was a gateway, the farthest from the Petraw fleet and their ultimate goal. Data was already conducting a survey to make certain nothing threatening awaited them. La Forge was busy studying output from the gateway and Vale was already arming a detachment for the away team.

“It is devoid of life-forms,” Data reported. “Plenty of flora but I cannot find even a bird or a fish.”

“The gateway is functioning like all the others, but seems to have huge energy reserves,” La Forge added.

“Sounds fairly safe,” Picard said, looking over at his first officer. They shared a familiar look, the one that told Riker that his captain was going to the planet and there would be no discussion over the matter. After all, Picard went in search of the Resonators, had met the Iconians, and deserved to be involved in this, the final act.

“Captain, I think you should not go down alone,” Vale said.

“I agree,” the captain said. “Just because we don’t detect life doesn’t mean there’s nothing threatening. Geordi, come with me as well, in case there’s something unusual with the technology.”

“Just come back this time,” Riker said.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Picard said with a smile. With that, he stood and strode off the bridge, heading straight down to the planet.

The Excalibu r was bucking as the edge of an ion storm threatened their schedule. Burgoyne was gripping on to hir command chair as crew scurried back and forth. They detected the problem minutes earlier as the night crew struggled to avoid contact with the disruptive energy. S/he was awoken from a sound sleep by the alarm klaxon. Quickly, leaving Selar to check on Xyon, their infant son, s/he headed straight to the bridge.

“Helm is sluggish,” reported Keefer, a beefy crewman who seemed to dwarf the console. He stabbed at controls but Burgoyne felt the ship continue to buck.

Burgoyne had no problem with crew of lesser experience handling things under normal conditions, but this was far from normal—even for the Excalibur. “Burogyne to senior staff,” s/he barked. “All hands to the bridge.”

In less than two minutes, Robin and Morgan Lefler and Soleta arrived on the bridge. The Vulcan went straight to the science station and began checking readings on the storm. Robin went to ops and performed similar checks, looking to her side to watch Keefer struggle with the helm. To her surprise, Morgan, her stately mother, strode over to the younger man and leaned over his right shoulder.

“You need to ignore the sensor readings and use more manual control to steer clear of a storm like this,” Morgan advised.

“Morgan, relieve Mr. Keefer, please,” Burgoyne said. “No offense, Ensign, but we have little time for lessons.”

As the woman slid into the chair, Robin exclaimed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Steering the ship,” Morgan replied, her hands dancing across the controls. She paused briefly to intertwine her fingers, loosening them up as if she were going to play the piano. Then she expertly began easing the starship from the edge of the storm without losing speed.

Robin spun in her chair, looking at the first officer. “How can you do that?”

“Simple,” Burgoyne replied. “If Captain Calhoun trusted her skill at science, then I can trust her at the helm. Sounds like she knows what she’s doing. Look, we’ve stopped being shaken like a bad drink.”

“But, but,” Robin stammered, looking at her mother, who acted unperturbed by both the storm outside the vessel and inside the bridge.

“We’ve lost about five minutes from our schedule,” Morgan reported without turning around. She seemed totally absorbed by the board below her fingers.

“I can fix that,” Burgoyne replied. “Bridge to engineering. Time to heat up the engines. Give us warp nine point eight until I say otherwise.”

And the ship surged forward, heading to a world that once proudly flew the flag of the Thallonian Empire.

“Helm, status,” Vaughn said.

Ensign Prynn Tenmei said, “On course, ETA seventeen minutes.”

For Vaughn, all seemed to be performing according to plan. Europa Nova had been successfully evacuated, Ro’s covert mission to Farius Prime had been successful, and Dax had just called in reporting that Kira was not dead as previously reported, and had returned safely tothe station. He looked forward to discussing her odyssey when he returned. But for now, they had to arrive at Dinasia and find the gateway. He intended to go down with Ensign Thirishar ch’Thane, leaving Lieutenant Nog in charge. Normally, he would be wary of leaving so inexperienced an officer in charge of the Defiant without backup. But the ship’s previous commander, Worf, was on board, even if he wasn’t strictly speaking Starfleet anymore, in case things got out of hand. Besides, Vaughn admired Nog’s style.

“Ensign ch’Thane,” Vaughn said, “you and I’ll beam down with the Resonator. If I encounter any problems, you can help me with the equipment.”

Shar looked mildly apprehensive. “My technical skills are not the best, sir. Perhaps Lieutenant Nog—”

Vaughn knew that the young Andorian had a reputation as being something of a klutz with equipment—he was a science officer, more comfortable with theory than practice—but Vaughn also knew that he wouldn’t get any better without experience. “I have faith in you, Ensign. Mr. Nog, you have the conn in my absence.”

Nog, Vaughn noticed, gave Shar a look of encouragement.

Minutes later, the ship achieved orbit and Shar quickly found the operating gateway on a remote island. It was devoid of Dinasian lifeforms and Vaughn suspected they shunned it given the planet’s Iconian roots. Whatever the reason, it meant they could move freely, which gave him confidence.

Within minutes, he and Shar materialized on the island, the tangy smell of the sea greeting them immediately. Wind blew water onto the rocks, causing high surf, trees swaying with the force. It was small, with no other island in sight, totally isolated. An odd place for a gateway, Vaughn mused, but who knew what the topography had been like two hundred millennia ago?

Shar spotted the cave entrance first and led the duo toward the island’s one and only hill. The entrance was wide but low, forcing them to crouch to get inside. It was damp within, with lichen growing thick on the walls. About ten feet inside the cave stood the active gateway, the control mechanism to the left, closer to the men. Cautious, Vaughn withdrew his tricorder and took readings, noting it was functioning as expected. No surprises as yet.

Within the aperture, the rotating images were of three different interior destinations, none of which looked vaguely familiar to Vaughn. He glanced over at Shar, who shook his head.

The commander was holding the Resonator and recognized there was no reason not to place the device atop the control panel. The tricorder chronometer said he was running about ten minutes early from Data’s elaborate plan. Still, he had no way to communicate with the thirteen other people doing the exact same task. As a result, he had to have faith and act.

The Resonator fit snugly atop the controls, as Picard had described. And just as expected, the machine acted accordingly, and the light show began….

….a map of the universe began to appear before Captain Grekor, who stood alone on a desert planet that had been conquered by Kahless’s son in one of the earliest additions to the Empire. The lights shifted and the images coalesced….

… and the Milky Way appeared to Subcommander Torath. Standing deep within a cave on a planet considered remote by the Romulan Star Empire, she was just following directions with no clarification from the Praetor’s staff. Torath shielded her eyes from the brightness for a moment and then studied her universe as a single entity, no imaginary lines dividing it into quadrants, no lines marking territory, just a swirl of stars thickly clustered here and there …

… purple lights began to appear, one after another, dotting all over the galaxy, and Soleta nodded in appreciation for the precision. She knew little of the Iconians, but understood them to be a technologically proficient people and this device, hidden deep within a mountain range, proved the assumption correct. She matched the purple images against her tricorder reading, arched an eyebrow, and saw that her planet was the ninth to be lit. She idly wondered if there was significance to the pattern….

….Bractor fingered the Resonator as it quietly hummed and continued to show highlights of key gateway locations. He wondered what would become of the items when the mission was complete and who might be interested in bidding to own one. Good as he was captaining a ship, the financial reforms on his homeworld required him to change his retirement strategy and he needed one major windfall. This could be what he needed….

… Solok contemplated a people that could design such a device. With the T’Kumbra crisscrossing the Alpha Quadrant, they had mapped only a small portion of the gateway connections and there was an elegance to the patterns. His crew had contemplated the possibilities during their off-duty shifts and it led to much discussion, which pleased the captain. It was a fruitless task, but a vital one to help shed light on the work. But here, as he stood before the gateway on Titan, Jupiter’s largest moon, he felt as if he was participating in something in concert with the rest of the quadrant and that brought a satisfaction he rarely felt as a captain….

… the captain thought, Damn you, Conklin. He was running late and was certain the entire galaxy was waiting for him. But it couldn’t be helped: the Magellan had blown out one dilithium-crystal relay, which resulted in cascading problems that not even his entire engineering team could solve in under an hour. Then he had pushed the engines past the redline to make the schedule, which would mean a week at the nearest starbase, but it would be worth it. He rushed into the chamber, past four cloaked monks, and snapped his Resonator into place and was stopped in place by the light show that immediately began….

… Command had its privileges, Captain Klag thought, as he watched the gateway on Ufandi III, a home to pirates and black-marketers. When the I.K.S. Gorkon arrived, he laughed mirthlessly as two scores of oneman craft broke orbit and scattered in all directions. Having a reputation to be feared could come in handy now and then—this was exactly one of those moments. When Worf had asked for his help, he was only too glad to once more provide a service to the ambassador and his people. He had bloodied his bat’leth in maintaining order along the border and was ready to do something of consequence….

… Kila Vet, Trill captain of the Repulse, watched frost form on his environmental suit while a meter before him, the console seemed thoroughly unaffected by Tethys III’s hydrogen-helium atmosphere. It functioned normally, as did the gateway just beyond the control panel. He watched in fascination as he saw a Romulan bridge, a smoldering volcano, and a trading outpost he did not recognize. The thirteen purple lights finished forming and the amber button continued to blink. He figured that meant all the pieces were not yet in position….

….Every first officer he’d had, from Will Riker to the late Dina Voyskunsky to his current one, Mikhail Buonfiglio, would never have wanted him to beam down. But Robert DeSoto managed to convince Commander Bounfiglio to let him go down alone. There was nothing dangerous about the gateway on Gault. It was a Federation world, offering no threat to anyone, and the planetary defenses kept the curious at a distance. He’d seen a lot in his decades of service, but nothing of this nature, which went to show that being a Starfleet captain was never going to be boring. He and Picard, who was countless light-years away, had discussed the matter at the Captain’s Table once. Picard explained how he learned never to give up the center seat, and they were words DeSoto took to heart. With a steady hand, he placed the Resonator atop the control panels and felt it glide into place. With a slight change in tenor, the lights changed on the board….

….Kat Mueller was startled to see the amber light stop blinking, sure that meant the final Resonator was in place. She could only stand and wait—either for an order from Picard, or for an instruction from the Iconian device itself. Telling herself she could be patient, she watched the board and the holographic representation of the universe. She studied the console, checked a cracked fingernail, adjusted a stray hair from her usually perfect style, rechecked the console, checked in with the Trident, bit her lip, and did everything possible to avoid tapping her foot. Nothing seemed to change until….

… the purple lights on the graphic shaded to a deep royal color andDeanna Troi’s eyes grew wide. The graphic began displaying alien typography that was characters, symbols, and some odd blend of the two. All the lights blinked in unison once, twice, and then stayed lit. She couldn’t tell what it meant but figured the machinery was performing as programmed. She would remain patient. If this mission taught her anything, it was learning to wait with grace….

….All Picard could think about was his friend Donald Varley. Had his colleague not discovered the Iconian homeworld, they would not have had the past decade to learn more about the legendary people. It cost Varley his life and that of his crew aboard the Yamato, but it gave them an advantage when it came to dealing with the Petraw. Had they shown up posing as Iconians without that knowledge, many would have been susceptible to the pitch. Now he stood on this dead world, watching the console go through the motions, and continued to wait for a sign that he needed to act.

The light show changed once more as one after another, the alien words faded from view one site at a time. When the graphic cleared, the purple lights began to wink off, again one at a time. It seemed that the graphic was deconstructing itself. Perhaps it meant the link was being broken—that the gateway network was shutting down.

Picard’s eyebrows rose in surprise as the lights shifted, pulsating a bit, and then a face greeted him. He did not recognize the human features, but it structurally matched the Iconians he had met, what, days ago? It was a placid, female countenance and seemed to be waiting, much like Picard and the other members of the unusual coalition.

It spoke, but in a language Picard had never heard before. After a sentence, it seemed to wait for a reply. Then it tried again, this time with another language. Again the silent wait and again another language. Picard let out a breath, hoping it would reach a language he knew. Wisely, he held out his tricorder and recorded the exchange, hoping it would help linguists at Starfleet Command. Minutes slipped by and he tried to retain his good humor but it was growing first frustrating, then irritating that he could recognize not a single syllable.The computer interface seemed not to share his feeling and for a moment, he considered asking Data to join him. Before he could act on the notion, he recognized a word.

It was Vulcan.

The Vulcan people dated back further than humans, but not the two hundred thousand years that would make them contemporaries of the Iconians. Then, a distant lesson came to mind. It was speculated that the Vulcan people might have ancestors dating back to the war-torn planet that existed some five hundred thousand years gone by. By the Iconians’ time, the language would have been refined but still, too much time would have gone by for him to recognize the words.

“May I help you, Captain Picard?”

Startled, the captain looked at the interface and saw its expression had not changed. The words were in French, his native tongue.

“Yes, you may,” he said in the same language. “How do I disengage the gateways?”

“Our controls work both verbally and manually. If you wish to address the controls, give straightforward commands.”

Clearing his throat, Picard swallowed and then said, “Please shut down the gateway network.”

“Configuring the relays.”

There was a long pause but Picard could hear the mechanism at work and noticed he was holding his breath in anticipation.

“Networks closed down, relays disconnected. Do you require anything further?”

Could it be that simple? Picard stared at the system and saw that it seemed no different from before. “Computer, could the system have been deactivated by any of the fourteen stations?”

“No,” it replied. “The Master Resonator works off the biosignature of the one to make first contact. That would be you, Captain Picard.”

“Has no one else used these controls?” Wait, it knew his name. Again, the level of sophisticated technology gave him pause.

“The Master Resonator is our emergency shutdown system and has not been required before now.”

“Can the network be used anymore?”

“Yes. You would have to give me a restart instruction.” “How does the system shut down otherwise?”

“I cannot answer that.”

“Why not?”

“I do not have that information.”

Picard stared at the system with more than a little disbelief. He literally had the power over the gateways in his hands and no one else in the galaxy could take control. All it would take was for him to remove his unit and lock it away, and the gateways would no longer pose a threat. And only he knew this fact.

This was power he had promised to share, but he could not. He would be hunted for his DNA to restart the system, or be kidnapped in an attempt to gain control. Such information couldn’t even go into the restricted files of Starfleet for fear that the insidious Section 31 would gain the knowledge. No, he would have to keep this to himself and take it to his grave. And what then? Would his death prevent the gateways from ever being used again? The thought was staggering.

No, he could not believe that. Just as the computer did not know its full capabilities and the current Iconians knew little of their heritage, Picard had to believe that there was a way to properly use the system. He would hold on to that belief, since the alternative made him shiver.

Could he control one unit at a time, directing the device from a remote location? Picard queried the computer, which answered in the affirmative. He considered that for a moment and then a thought occurred to him. Quickly, he tapped his communicator and had Riker patch him through to the Nyrian ship.

“Sure thing,” Riker responded. “Did you succeed?”

“I believe so, Number One. Please have Data check all frequencies and see what he can learn.” He waited patiently as the link to the distant starship was made.

“What’s wrong, Captain?”

“Nothing, Taleen. However, I have gained control of the gateways and have shut them down. I can activate one, though, and send you close to home. We don’t have the coordinates and will have to guess, which means you may wind up as lost as poor Voyager. Or you may stay here and join us. You must make the choice; I cannot do it for you.”

“Captain Janeway has shown me great courage,” Taleen told him. “Send us home. But first, thank you for your help and kindness.”

Picard checked their best-guess coordinates, already researched by Ensign Paisner in stellar cartography thanks to Riker’s diligence. He gave the verbal directions to the computer and the interface acknowledged.

“Gateway activated.” And once more Picard waited for things to happen parsecs and parsecs away.

After some minutes, Riker contacted the captain and informed him that the long-range sensors at Starbase 134 showed the Nyrian ship had vanished. Mission accomplished.

“Computer, shut down the gateway and then close down,” Picard instructed.

“As you wish,” it said, and a moment later the image vanished. The computer whirled to a close and the lights went dim.

It was over. The galaxy could go about its business without threat of further interference.

Oddly, it felt disquieting, but Picard would adjust and learn to keep such secrets deep in his mind. He signaled his ship and was transported home.

The glowing face spoke in gibberish, but Chanik could tell it was speaking to someone, Young God Picard he assumed. There were pauses, then it spoke, then it stopped. Sounds indicated the system was changing and Chanik thought it might be dying. It took Young God Picard away and he was told this was a good thing but he missed the man.

The lessons he learned from Picard had filled his mind in all the hours he waited for the machine to perform its magic. Things were not always what they appeared and justice could take many forms. The lessons were good ones and maybe, when he was a little older, he could teach them to others. Teaching sounded like a good thing to do, he considered, chewing on the last strip of meat. But first, there was more for him to learn. Perhaps he would return to the farm they had passed together. Maybe the farmer took in the thieves and maybe there was room for him, too. He could work for food, learn to plant or make wine. And then he could watch and see if Picard’s instructions would be followed.

A plan set, he turned to walk out of the cavern, ready to leave the City behind him and start something new.