Chapter 7

Doral had not left the guest cabin once. He had learned to manipulate the ship’s computer and seemed to be accessing a wide variety of files, none of which posed a threat to the ship or crew. Christine Vale assured Picard that no sabotage was possible from the Petraw leader.

The Enterprise was en route back to the Petraw fleet. As soon as the captain returned to the bridge, contact with Starfleet was established and it was clear that the computer had followed its programming. Admiral Ross reported that all indications were that the gateways had stopped functioning, which meant more than a handful of planets were spared further damage. The cleanup work would take months, complicating the Dominion War rebuilding, but that was a task for the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. Ross complained that they never seemed to be moving forward, always rebuilding or recovering from some problem. His tone sounded upbeat, though, and Picard accepted the heartfelt thanks with a tight smile.

Now he stood before the Petraw’s cabin, making up his mind. Bractor was right: he had not really considered the beaten explorer’s fate. His hands tugged his uniform straight and he then pressed the door chime.

Within moments, he stood before Doral, who seemed slighter, less haughty than when they first met some days before. He had been viewing a recording about the horsehead nebula, a half-drunk cup by his elbow. If he were fully human, Picard would suspect he had slept little, his eyes looking more haunted than alert.

“It’s over; we shut down the gateways,” Picard said.

“I see.”

“Your ploy caused immense loss of life and great destruction,” the captain continued. “We estimate that relocating the lost will take some months. We have diplomats rebuilding peace accords and our work will allow us to remember the Petraw for quite some time.”

“And what will become of my people?”

Picard looked at the defeated man and fought the feeling of pity that was welling within him. He would not allow it. “Your people subscribe to a different moral code. I was distressed to see that one felt strongly enough to take action which cost more lives. I am not certain what should be done, to be honest. What you did, you did from some biological imperative, but I cannot forget that there were alternatives to the approach you took.

“I could leave you to the mercy of a coalition court, but that would detain you when that is clearly not of use to anyone.”

“No, I suppose not.” The words were flat, the tone devoid of emotion.

“I will bring you and your acolyte back to your ship but will suggest to the others that we pool our resources and come up with a purpose for your people.”

Doral looked up with a questioning expression, the first sign of life since the captain had entered.

“You are explorers by nature and there is much of the galaxy left to visit. Many of us used tricorders to study the mechanism that activates the gateways. I believe Mr. Data can collect and analyze the information and provide you with a course that will allow you to fulfill your imperative while keeping you from interacting with any of the races you tried to dupe.”

“We’re banished?”

“No,” Picard said carefully. “The universe is teeming with life and we’re letting you go out and find them before any of us get the chance. Turn it to your advantage and open your minds to the possibilities.”

Doral nodded, taking in the words, obviously surprised that the course of action did not involve trial or death.

Picard figured there would be time enough to talk further so left him alone to his thoughts. Instead, he needed a long rest.

“It’s certainly been interesting,” Davison told Troi with a grin.

“When dealing with the Enterprise, there is no other way,” Deanna replied. They were standing in the captain’s quarters and Troi was done packing her bag. Her home ship had returned to the alliance an hour earlier and it was time to report. The mighty starship would tow the Mercury home with the Marco Polo flying escort and Brisbayne coming over in temporary command. Already, the Glory was limping into a point position, preparing to lead the Petraw fleet in its new direction. The Qob was arcing around, ready to head back to the Klingon Empire, the other ships positioning themselves accordingly.

“What should I do with this?”

Troi looked at the item and smiled wickedly. “Ask the chief to have it beamed directly to my quarters. I’ll need it soon.”

The two shared a humorous look and then proceeded to the bridge. Troi had grown fond of the crew and wished she had more time to work with them. They’d always be her first crew and that made them memorable. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted command for herself. After all, she hoped to spend the rest of her life with a man born to sit in the center seat. Working alongside him seemed good enough, either as counselor, first officer, lover—or wife.

“Captain on the bridge,” Hol called as the doors snapped open.

That, she would miss.

“I just wanted to thank you all, for the hard work,” she said by the door. The crew had turned and given her rapt attention. All taut at their posts, the Enterprise fittingly on the viewscreen. “Starfleet Command will read our reports and I suspect you will all find yourselves with satisfactory assignments in the months to come.”

“But our assignments have been changed, our ships have moved on,” the Tiburonian science officer said, his voice bordering on a whine.

Troi grinned at him and answered, “Actually, with everyone mobilized to handle the gateways, Command clearly has to rethink deployments. You’re to follow us back to Earth and we’ll see what happens.”

Mia Chan rose, her eyes dividing time between Troi and Rosario.

The counselor recognized that the pair was ready to begin a relationship and she wished them well. She knew how tough it would be for any couple to establish a strong bond while serving on the same ship, especially one this small, but it was possible.

“You were so great to work with,” Chan gushed.

“We all worked well together,” Troi said calmly. “There’s still more to be done. We won’t leave until the Petraw ships are on their way, just in case.”

“Shall I keep a weapons lock on the lead ship?” Rosario asked.

“No,” Troi countered. “We still have the dampening field in effect. In fact, we need to lower it in order to get me back to the Enterprise.”

She stood another moment, uncertain if there was more to say. Once more, she beamed a smile at her crew and turned, counseling herself to keep her emotions in check. Without a look back, she put a reassuring hand on Davison’s forearm and entered the turbolift.

Picard walked the bridge, checking station by station, ready to bring this entire matter to a close. Geordi La Forge was leaning over the engineering station, one of the aft duty posts on the vast bridge. He had been monitoring the polaron bursts that put the Petraw in check and so far everything ran with textbook efficiency.

“Ready to drop the field,” he reported. Picard saw the screens and returned to his place in the command seat.

The captain turned to Riker, his face a mask of determination. Riker acknowledged the look and kept his counsel. Finally, Picard said, “I’d sooner sail through an ion storm than have to go through those kinds of negotiations again. While I had Admiral Ross’s support, the Federation Council was dubious. Even after I got them to see my point, our representative races had their own notions of justice. Having turned off the gateways gave me more than a little additional clout, which carried the day.”

“Not a perfect plan is it?” Riker asked.

The captain shook his head slowly before replying. “We’ve certainly been tidier in our affairs,” he admitted. “But under the circumstances, it’s the best solution.” Picard and Riker shared a quick glance as the captain settled in and Riker spoke out, “Do it, Geordi.”

The readings were clear, space was returning to normal, and the engineer looked over his right shoulder and announced that space was safe for transporters once more. He remained studying the readouts, just in case a Petraw chose to commit a violent act.

“Riker to transporter room, ready to bring Captain Troi aboard.”

Picard leaned back, feeling relaxed for the first time in a week. “I look forward to having the family back home.”

“Sooner or later, we’re going to have to leave the nest,” Riker said.

“The days of letting a captain keep his crew together for decades are pretty much over.”

“Trying to tell me something, Number One?”

“Not at all,” Riker said, the usual twinkle in his eye. “Just making an observation.”

“Perhaps I need to find you a ship after all,” the captain said, coming as close to light banter as he dared on a topic that he disliked thinking about. Of course his crew would get promoted and move on. Some, like Tasha Yar, died in the line of duty, but others, like O’Brien and Worf, had moved on, pursuing their own destinies. Even Data had been placed on detached assignment here and there.

He would just have to cherish whatever time he had left with these special people.

“Counselor Troi is back aboard,” the transporter chief reported.

“Excellent,” Picard told him. “Lieutenant Vale, please have our Petraw guests brought to the transporter room. I will meet them there.”

“Very good, sir,” she replied, and entered the commands.

Picard left Riker on the bridge and took a lift below. By the time he arrived, Doral stood a forlorn figure on the platform. The younger saboteur stood sullenly in the rear. Two security officers remained off to the side, at full alert, and the transporter chief kept his hands on the controls.

“It’s time,” Picard said.

“I know,” Doral replied.

“Mr. Data has already sent the coordinates to your entire fleet. He even took the liberty of organizing flight patterns that would provide maximum safety to the older vessels. You should be in excellent shape for the new adventure.”

Doral looked at him blankly.

“This region of space has been through a tremendous ordeal over the last few years,” Picard noted, his tone hard, without its soft, cultured tones. “One race after another has had to beat back the encroachment of the Borg, followed immediately by a quadrant-wide war initiated by people from the far side of the Milky Way. Between the two, we’ve lost too many innocents, too many dedicated officers and ships. But we’re still here.

“Do you know why, Doral? Because, when we had to, we put aside the little differences between our peoples, trusted one another to go into battle side-by-side. And we persevered. We stopped the invasion and preserved myriad ways of life. Because … it was the right thing to do.

“And when the Petraw came skulking into our space and preyed upon our trust, set one against another in a petty bidding competition, we once again managed to stand up to the threat ….together. I find these moments invigorating because it means we are beginning to respect one another a little more every day.

“Know this, should you find your way here again, you will be greeted with less than open arms. If necessary, we shall draft even more races together to help keep the peace.”

Picard took a deep breath, let it out slowly and watched Doral’s still somewhat bewildered expression. There was a modicum of comprehension under the furrowed brow but not enough to satisfy him. It was time to bring this to an end.

“Consider this the beginning of the next step in Petraw history,” the captain said to him. His expression turned hard. “You cannot return here—you will likely not be welcome by some of the neighboring governments. Seek your destiny and forget about your homeworld. Be realistic and look forward, not behind. There is so much to discover and experience, you can make your own history. But do so honestly and with integrity.”

The Petraw leader just looked at him, the expression indicating surprise and bewilderment.

“We’re sending you back to your ship. Please be out of this area within the hour.” Picard looked over his shoulder to the chief. “Energize.”

It took seconds for Doral to vanish from the Enterprise, and Picard realized he still felt mixed emotions, but mostly disappointment at what their desperation had brought to so many worlds. He might never know the death toll. The Federation could not administer proper justice and having them voluntarily leave this portion of the quadrant made the most sense. After all, the Klingons, the Romulans, and even the Carreon might demand Petraw deaths as payment for loss of sovereign lives. Already, he had heard rumblings that this might damage politics for a time.

Still, it needed to be done this way. He could not condone the Petraw’s actions, nor could he be a party to their deaths. It would be an empty payment that benefited no one.

As he cleared his mind of such thoughts, he took a moment to enjoy the notion that everyone had returned to his ship hale and hearty. It was time for his loved ones to be together in safety. “Mr. Riker,” the captain said as he entered the turbolift, “I’m on my way up. Why don’t you take a moment and welcome the counselor back?”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Riker answered, the humor filling his voice.

Riker couldn’t wait to see his imzadi. Even though they had been separated by space, she had remained available to help him through the tough moments during the mission. He couldn’t imagine life without her and he intended to do whatever it would take to make sure she remained a part of it.

Standing before her cabin door, he pressed the announcement key and heard the soft chime beyond the door. Within seconds, the door opened and a hard object was jabbed into his chest, his hands reflexively reaching out to grab it.

“What….oh….are you….?”

“Mad at your lack of confidence in me?” Troi answered from within the cabin. Riker remained frozen in place, uncertain about her feelings right then and there. “Annoyed at being embarrassed by having this presented before my first command? Amused at your little joke? What do you think?”

Riker was left speechless.

“You’re a commander,” she said, stepping closer. “Make a command decision. Say something.”

Still holding the crash helmet he had given Troi as a gag going-away present, Riker felt a mixture of amusement, abashment, and confusion. Remembering lessons from their years together, he answered from his heart. “I missed you.”

Her hands reached over the threshold, grabbing fistfuls of duty jacket, and yanked him right into the cabin. That’s when he noticed she was wearing the diaphanous pale lavender item that left one shoulder bare and little to the imagination.

“Better put that helmet on,” she said, letting go of the uniform as the door closed. “You’re going to need it.”

Picard sat in his ready room, looking at the tricorder images taken on the world on which he had found Chanik and the Master Resonators. He’d miss the youth and knew he had the power to go back and visit but also recognized that he would never do so. The captain could never imagine an instance when circumstances would force him to use the gateways. It was power he would hide, a secret he would no doubt take to his deathbed.

Instead, he would prepare a report to Starfleet Command, complete with recommendations for reparations and commendations for selected staff, starting with Troi. The Petraw ships had started forming as Data directed and they would be gone shortly. Once they were off long-range sensors, he could return to Earth and accept his next assignment. As with most his missions, whatever they gave him, it would never quite turn out as the mission specs spelled out.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.