Captain's Glory

9

U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

STARDATE 58562.5

Had it been any other time, any other occasion, Picard would already have begun to feel restless. This close to home, he always was.

Earth and her solar system had been tamed generations ago. Each planet, moon, and major asteroid mapped to resolutions that banished all mysteries. The domed cities of the moon allowed families to picnic by Earthlight. Mars had green fields and blue oceans, fresh clean air, skiing at the poles, and soon, according to the environmental engineers, burgeoning rain forests would arise in the equatorial lowlands.

Even the vast, underground data repositories and museums of Pluto had stripped the romance from that distant world, still considered a planet by tradition, if not by astronomers.

In fairness, Picard couldn’t complain about humanity’s imprint on nearspace-the sectors that surrounded his homeworld and home system. Those were the first his species had visited in the great wave of exploration that followed in Cochrane’s wake.

But he didn’t have to like it. And he didn’t.

This close to home, his heart remained on the frontier.

In his soul, he was an explorer, and he feared for the day when humanity’s descendants would place their footprints on the last world at the galaxy’s edge. Where would the human spirit turn to then? Would there be new frontiers to delve into? Or was he part of a dying breed? Just a point on the graph from Cochrane and Archer and Kirk to a future that had a definite end?

“Captain…?”

Troi’s gentle inquiry broke through Picard’s introspection. He saw her standing beside his chair on the bridge, concern and curiosity in her large dark eyes.

“Is coming home really that bad?” she asked.

Picard smiled. He had forgotten the ease Troi had brought to his ship, and to his command. A Betazoid counselor who could sense his emotional state tended to keep him focused and aware of the present. And he rarely had to explain himself to her. With the Titan in tow and Riker still in Doctor Crusher’s sickbay, Picard was pleased that Troi had chosen to take up guest quarters on the Enterprise for the journey back to Earth. Especially since the Enterprise’s new counselor, T’Lana, was on leave to attend a negotiation workshop on Babel.

“Under the circumstances,” Picard said, “not really. We’re needed here. Exploration can wait for now.”

Troi’s smile was warm and kind and let him know that she saw right through him. “You’ve never believed that, Captain. But like all of us, you put duty first.”

Picard returned the smile. “I’ve missed you, Counselor.”

“I know.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Lieutenant Leybenzon, the ship’s security officer. The taciturn human had earned a field commission during the Dominion War, and his martial expertise had proven his worth many times over, both in war and in peace.

“Captain, we’re receiving a transmission from Jupiter Outpost Ninety-two.”

Picard was familiar with that security station. It was part of Sector 001’s deep-space tracking and communications network, built into and onto the ninety-second moon of Jupiter. That particular moon was a rock scarcely larger than the Enterprise.

Picard straightened his jacket. “Onscreen.”

At once, a man in unusual black clothing appeared on the viewscreen. To Picard, the outfit seemed more like a uniform than civilian garb, though he could see no insignia. In the background, among nested banks of operations consoles, uniformed Starfleet personnel rushed back and forth, or conferred in close conversation. The mood seemed tense, the activity almost erratic. But the man, whoever he was, whatever his function, clearly belonged at the station he occupied.

“Captain Picard,” the man said, “please drop from warp at Kuiper Five-seven-five. We have tugs waiting to bring the Enterprise and the Titan to Jupiter Station.”

Picard bristled at the thought of letting smaller craft guide his ship. Even more disturbing was that Kuiper 575 was an icy planetesimal, twice the size of Pluto and half again as distant from the sun. As far as he was aware, it was a Fleet deuterium refueling depot for freighters. The Enterprise had no business there, especially when the Titan needed urgent repairs at the Utopia shipyards.

“May I ask why? Our destination is Mars.”

“We’re operating under emergency conditions, Captain. You’ll receive further orders when you report to Kuiper Five-seven-five.”

The man in black moved to touch a control, no doubt to break the connection, Picard assumed. But Picard wasn’t finished with him.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know you and I’d prefer to get changes to my orders from Starfleet personnel. May I– “

The viewscreen flashed back to a visual sensor image of Earth’s sun, the brightest star in the galactic swath, still several light-years distant. Closer stars smeared past at warp on the edges of the screen.

Picard stared at the stars, puzzled and annoyed. Then, as if no time had passed since she had last served as counselor on his ship, he turned to Troi.

“Impressions?”

“Whoever he is,” the Betazoid said thoughtfully, “he’s not used to being questioned. And he was at a high level of alert. I have no doubt he feels he’s operating under emergency conditions, as he said.”

Picard made his decision, looked over at the tactical station. “Mister Leybenzon, open a channel to Starfleet Command.”

The chief of security efficiently called up the main com controls on his board, sent the automated sequence.

A moment later, the viewscreen flashed again.

It was the man in black. “Captain Picard, is there a problem?”

Picard stood. Something wasn’t right. “My communications request was sent to Starfleet Command.”

“That’s what you’ve reached. Starfleet’s Jupiter facilities are now provisional Fleet headquarters.”

“Since when?”

“Since Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco closed down two days ago. Now change course to Kuiper Five-seven-five.”

Picard’s mind raced. How could headquarters be relocated without the news spreading over the subspace net? “I’ve received no notification.”

“And you won’t until you’ve passed through engrammatic identity verification at Kuiper Five-seven-five. Now change course immediately, or I will declare you a hostile vessel.”

Picard looked to Troi, mouthed the words “Identity verification?”

“Whatever it is, he means it,” the counselor quietly replied.

Picard turned back to the screen, weighing the possibilities that might explain what he was facing. But whatever was going on, he refused to concede his command authority without good reason. The stakes were too high.

“Under the circumstances, I need to receive orders from a source I recognize,” Picard stated.

The man’s jaw clenched and Picard didn’t need a Betazoid to tell him he was witnessing a sudden burst of anger.

“Captain Picard-if that’s who you are-drop out of warp now, disable your weapons, and wait to be taken in tow. If you continue to approach this system, you will be fired upon, and you will be destroyed. Starfleet Command, out.”

Once more the stars returned to the viewscreen.

“Strong suspicion,” Troi said, clearly startled by the man’s hostility. “He truly doubts your identity. He’s frustrated. And disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” Picard asked.

Troi shook her head as if there was something about the man that was just out of her grasp. “I think, when you first spoke to him, it was almost as if he was hoping you could help him.”

“Help him with what?” Picard momentarily appreciated the irony that just a few minutes ago he had been thinking that his home system held no mysteries. But now…

“Mister Leybenzon,” Picard said, “do you detect any vessels heading to intercept us?”

“Negative, Captain.”

“Can you pick up any standard communications traffic from Command, San Francisco?”

“A lot of subspace static… unusual. If there are standard transmissions, under these conditions they’d be undetectable.”

Picard knew he needed more time to sort out what was happening. “Conn, change course to Kuiper Five-seven-five.”

Ensign Choyce replied with a brisk “Aye, sir,” and almost at once the starfield on the viewscreen began to shift as the ship’s heading changed.

Now Picard stepped behind his operations officer at her station. Lieutenant Commander Miranda Kadohata had been trained by Data on the EnterpriseD before transferring to other vessels, and Picard had welcomed her return to his ship. “Commander, have the science department heads prepare a report on that interference. But first ask Commander Worf to report to the bridge at once.”

Picard walked back to Troi. “I can only surmise that the current situation is somehow related to the warp-core failures.”

He could see that Troi sensed what underlay his conclusion.

“You’re beginning to think it’s not a natural phenomenon after all.”

“If headquarters has been relocated, perhaps it’s because they fear what happened at the Cochrane Institute could happen there. And as to doubting my identity… that’s reminiscent of the Dominion War, when anyone could be a Changeling.”

Troi smiled at Picard. “Not within range of a Betazoid, sir.”

Picard appreciated Troi’s assurance, but he was also aware of how someone else might see the situation. “Unless the Betazoid was a Changeling as well.”

Troi’s nod showed she conceded the point.

A turbolift door opened and Worf emerged, instantly making the bridge feel smaller.

Picard was not the only one who stared at Worf as he strode to the chair that had once been Will Riker’s. Picard’s new first officer wore the full uniform of a Klingon battle-group commander, and his metal-clad boots rang out as he crossed the deck.

Worf returned Picard’s stare. “I was relaxing. On the holodeck. Your summons did say, ‘At once.’”

Picard nodded. “The uniform suits you.” He gestured to the back of the bridge. “Let’s adjourn to the ready room.” He included Troi in his invitation. “Counselor, I would very much appreciate your input.”

“Certainly, sir.”

But before any of the officers had reached the ready room door, Lieutenant Commander Kadohata changed their plans.

“Captain-the subspace interference around Earth is intensifying.”

Picard turned back to the bridge. “Can you tell what’s causing it?”

Kadohata’s hands expertly played over her console as she brought up the science sensor readings being used by department heads throughout the ship.

“Multiple subspace distortions…” She looked back at her captain. “Sir, the energy signatures are consistent with warp-core explosions.”

Picard felt his stomach tighten. “Raise Command again.”

The viewscreen showed stars. Only stars.

“Command is not responding,” Kadohata said.

“Find any channel,” Picard ordered. “Focus on Jupiter, any signal.”

At last the stars disappeared, replaced by a visual sensor image.

Picard focused his attention on the image, saw that it originated from a navigational beacon near Jupiter Station, one of the largest research platforms in the system. The station supported a permanent population of almost ten thousand.

In the upper right quadrant of the viewscreen, an oasis of lights was clearly visible against the deep black of Jupiter’s nightside clouds. The station itself spread out like a snowflake with each branch five kilometers long.

Many of the lights were moving away from the main structure, as if the snowflake were breaking apart at the edges.

“What’s happening?” Troi asked.

Worf had the answer. “The ships docked to the station… they’re withdrawing.”

“There shouldn’t be so many doing it at the same time,” Kadohata said. “Regulations prohibit– ” She gasped.

One of the small points of light moving from the station suddenly flared like a nova.

Then another.

“Their warp cores…” Picard said, barely believing the disaster unfolding before him.

The time for reasoned, thoughtful consideration of options had passed. Picard issued his new orders crisply.

“Conn, set a course for Jupiter Station. Mister Leybenzon, release the Titan from the tractor beams.” Picard looked to the hidden com system in the bridge’s overhead. “Picard to engineering.”

“La Forge here, Captain.”

“Geordi, I want maximum warp right now. Consider this a priority emergency.”

The veteran engineer knew better than to ask questions. Within seconds, Picard could feel the deep thrum of his ship’s warp coil as it ramped up to maximum output. The Enterprise waited on his command, and he gave it.

“Engage.”