Part 44 (2/2)

On the bridge of the warbird, the subcommander and her officers reacted with a mixture of shock, anger, and fear to the sudden appearance of the s.h.i.+mmering gateway in their midst. Disruptors were drawn and ready before Picard even stepped through. He'd insisted on going first, though, hoping that the sudden arrival of a Starfleet officer on the bridge would at least raise enough questions to give the subcommander pause, instead of opting for shooting first and asking questions later, if ever.

His gamble was accurate, but still that didn't make him any more sanguine about staring down the barrels of a half dozen Romulan disruptors.

”Wh-what is the meaning of this?!” Subcommander Taris sputtered, almost unable to contain her surprise.

Behind Picard came Data, then Lore, Isaac, and finally Lal and Wesley Crusher. The gateway remained open, a door-shaped opening in midair connecting the warbird's bridge with the hidden chamber in the city far below.

”I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, Subcommander,” Picard said with a smile. ”I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Stars.h.i.+p Enterprise.” He glanced at the others behind him. ”This is my chief engineer, Crusher; Turing resident Lal; and I believe you know Data, Lore, and my chief science officer, A. Isaac.”

Subcommander Taris's eyes widened, fractionally, but to her credit she maintained her composure. ”I am impressed, Picard.” She glanced at the officer to her side. ”Centurion, find the crewman responsible for monitoring the prisoners in the cellblock, and place him in custody, to await court-martial.”

”I hope you wouldn't,” Picard said, gently. ”Your crew could no more be expected to antic.i.p.ate this gateway technology”he gestured over his shoulder at the s.h.i.+mmering door”than you yourself did just a moment ago. And no more than I myself did a short while ago when Data here appeared on the bridge of my own s.h.i.+p.” He glanced at Data, and nodded. ”But my crewman Mister Crusher has made some interesting discoveries about the gateways, and it is precisely those discoveries that Data wishes to discuss, among other matters.”

Data stepped forward, standing before the subcommander.

”Tell me, Subcommander Taris, have you ever heard of the Iconians?”

Epilogue.

It was late afternoon, the sun dipping toward the western horizon, as tropical birds called their high, trilling songs from the treetops. The artificial planetoid was little more than a way station, set up here at the far side of the Gamma Quadrant, thousands upon thousands of light-years from Earth. The reach of the gateways was immense, but it was not infinite, and so travel from one edge of the Milky Way to the other was possible only by the introduction of gateway hubs every few thousand light-years. Some were positioned on planets, some on moons, still others in orbital habitats, but in some cases little pocket worlds were created. This planetoid incorporated gravity generators beneath the surface, giving it a gravitational attraction several times that which its ma.s.s would normally generate, without which an atmosphere wouldn't have been possible. It hardly mattered to most of the travelers, who scarcely needed to breathe, but it was essential for the plants and animal life that had been seeded here, and allowed for spoken conversation, instead of just subs.p.a.ce communication.

A reproduction of the Garden of Versailles expanded to cover a sphere the size of a small moon. The planetoid was not simply a gateway hub, but was a place for rest and relaxation, a perfect setting for two old friends to catch up.

”Data!” A smile spread across Picard's face as they shook hands. ”How good to see you!”

”It's good to see you, as well, Jean-Luc.” Data's smile was no less wide, but widened even further when he added, ”Or should I say, Captain?”

”How long has it been?” Picard got a far-off look in his eyes.

”I don't think we've seen each other in more than a decade, but...”

”No,” Picard interrupted, shaking his head. He ran his fingers through his full, dark hair. ”I mean, how long has it been since you called me 'Captain'?”

Data's face took on a wistful look. ”It's been nearly one hundred and ten years since I had any right to do so, since I was last a member of the Enterprise's crew.”

”One hundred and ten...?” Picard repeated in disbelief.

”You know what they say, Jean-Luc.” He grinned, and for a moment, with the white streaks he'd added to his hair, looked something like a sinister skunk. It was ironic that in an era in which death had been conquered, Data affected the signs of aging. ”Time flies when you're having fun.”

Picard grinned, and clapped a hand on Data's shoulder. ”And just what are you doing for fun these days, Data? Last I'd heard you were helping Lal and Wesley Crusher with that experiment of theirs to create a time machine...”

Data shook his head. ”They're still at it, but I expect it will be a few more decades before their work bears fruit. But no, I've been asked to serve as Federation amba.s.sador to the Dominion.”

Picard nodded, impressed. There was a time when he might have worried that first contact with a previously unknown alien race might lead to hostilities. The experience of the last century had changed that. Now the Federation had grown to encompa.s.s old enemies like the Romulans and the Klingons, and had evolved to the point where it was perfectly adapted for incorporating new cultures peacefully, while at the same time ensuring that those cultures did not lose their individual ident.i.ties.

”And what of Lore?” Picard asked, gently.

It had taken long decades, but working with researchers at the Daystrom Inst.i.tute, Data had finally managed to correct the faults in his elder brother's programming, and far from being a near-insane proponent of ma.s.s murder, he was now one of the leading advocates for endangered organic species in the Federation.

”Still hard at work, as always. We visit every few weeks, regardless of where our travels take us. Family is something to be cherished, don't you think?”

Picard smiled, nodding, remembering how the extra decades granted by their extended lives in artificial bodies had helped heal the rifts with his own estranged brother.

”And you, Jean-Luc? Off to some dig or other?”

”You know me too well, old friend,” Picard said with a smile. ”I'm leading an archaeological expedition on a planet a few light-years from here. Bajoran artifacts millennia old have been unearthed, suggesting prehistoric contact between the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants.”

”A subs.p.a.ce wormhole, perhaps?”

”That's the prevalent theory. But Data, you should see some of the treasures we've been pulling out of the ground.”

Once, Picard could never have hoped ever to have heard of such a find, much less investigate it himself. At several thousand light-years away, it would have taken him the rest of his natural lifetime to reach the dig site, even at maximum warp. That was when he still had a natural lifetime, of course.

More than any other discovery since the invention of the warp drive, the gateway had changed the way that worlds interacted, and the way that people lived. Now, someone could walk from one world to another in the blink of an eye, and from one side of the galaxy to the other in a matter of minutes. And in artificial bodies, like the one Picard had worn since the death of his original body years before, travelers were confident that they could survive any injury, and in virtually any environment. The opportunities for archaeological exploration alone had opened up enormously when researchers suddenly didn't need to breathe oxygen any longer, or require atmospheric pressure or its equivalent to hold their insides in.

”But tell me about this Dominion, Data,” Picard said, steering his friend toward a low bench, from which they could watch the setting sun. ”I've heard what's been said about them on the subs.p.a.ce network, but haven't spoken directly with anyone who's dealt with them.”

”They are...uncertain, I suppose you could say. For generations, the Dominion has been a highly regimented hierarchy, and they view with some trepidation the more egalitarian qualities of the Federation.” He sat on the bench, and crossed one leg over the other. ”I can't really blame them, of course. Theirs is a culture in which everyone knows their place and role, to which they are not only born, but also for which they have often been genetically engineered. Authority descends from the top, and there is no social mobility. Contrast that with the Federation and its countless species and civilizations, all instantaneously sharing new information, communicating through subs.p.a.ce networks linked by gateway relays, millions of worlds and trillions of individuals joined in a consensus linking all of their minds. The Dominion has a 'link' of their own, of sorts, but it appears to encompa.s.s only the ruling caste of shapes.h.i.+fters, with all the other species of the Dominion existing in virtual slave status beneath them.”

”Oh, I'm not too worried,” Picard said, smiling. ”The Federation has dealt with slavers and oppressors before. No matter how odious they may seem at the outset, it is simply inevitable that their behavior and att.i.tudes will change after exposure to the Federation's ideals.” He laid a hand on Data's shoulder in a comradely gesture. ”And I can think of no one better suited to the task of helping them through that difficult change than you.”

”Change,” Data repeated, wistfully. ”Tell me, Jean-Luc, do you ever think back to the Prime Directive? Think of the years Starfleet spent, its actions limited by the first contact protocols. Do you ever wonder how many of the new lives and new civilizations that we encountered in our journeys might have benefited from Federation medicine or technology, or from concepts like individual freedom and liberty?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a subs.p.a.ce call from the planetoid beneath them, its immense positronic brain reminding Data that he'd asked to be alerted when the Dominion signaled that they were ready to begin discussing the terms of the treaty with the Federation.

”Thank you,” Data said to the planetoid. Reluctantly, he rose to his feet, and turned to face Picard. ”Jean-Luc, I'm afraid that you'll have to excuse me, but duty calls.”

”Duty, Data? Or fun?”

Data grinned. ”Why should there be any distinction?”

As Data moved off toward the gateway beneath the pergola, Picard walked beside him, deep in thought. ”You know, running into you here, I can't help but be reminded of the way things once were, and to wonder what the future might hold. We've come so far, so quickly, and it seems inevitable that the Federation will someday expand to the farthest corners of the galaxy, with no more new worlds left to discover. At the rate we're going, it might be only a few millennia before we reach that point.”

As they stopped before the gateway, Data's smile widened. ”There are other galaxies out there in the night sky, Jean-Luc, as many more as there are grains of sand on all the beaches of Earth. And, after all,” he added, stepping into the gateway, ”the sky is the limit.”

Acknowledgments/Authors' Notes THE CHIMES AT MIDNIGHT.

I absolutely wish to thank: My wife and family for their unwavering support; my colleagues at the library for giving me a place to belong; Marco Palmieri for the tremendous opportunity; Jim McCain and Alex Rosenzweig for bringing me ”into the fold”; Jason Barney and the mysterious Rigel Ailur for their inspiration; Keith DeCandido, Terri Osborne, and Bob Greenberger for their professional a.s.sistance; the maintainers of Memories Alpha and Beta, along with Ian McLean's Rogue Gallery, for providing invaluable online resources; Heather Jarman for her rich Andorian worldbuilding; and Gene Roddenberry, Harve Bennett, and Nicholas Meyer, for creating this sandbox for me to play in.

A GUTTED WORLD.

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