Part 3 (1/2)

Tasha was a superlative weapons officer, but the timing Picard required depended largely on the a.s.sumption that the hostile was traveling at its maximum speed. If it was not-if it could still increase its faster-than-light velocity, then the torpedoes would very likely detonate behind it, losing the advantage the command disk needed to get away. Picard was counting on the limitations of the alien's technology as an ally.

”On the count,” Data said. ”Six, five, four, three, two, one, separation.”

At the rear of the saucer section, where it joined the gooseneck of the stardrive section, a crack appeared. The ma.s.sive retention a.s.semblies unlocked and pulled back into their housings. Jets of vapor hissed into vacuum as connections were pulled free.

”Captain's log. Moment of separation, Stardate 41153.75. We are now free to face the hostile.”

”Good luck, sir,” Worf murmured as he watched them drop away.

The great disk angled up, up and away from the cobra-shaped stardrive section. As they cleared, the locking mechanisms completed their rotation and finished up flush in their housings with a thump that was unheard in s.p.a.ce but which was felt in the disk. Worf checked his distance and ordered the impulse engines to full power. The immediate response quickly thrust the saucer section away so the stardrive section could maneuver. The instant that the saucer section cleared the warp envelope of the Enterprise battle module, it appeared to vanish. The Enterprise and its pursuer were past it in an instant too brief to register on any instruments.

This was what Picard had been hoping for-a chance for the saucer section to lose itself in the vastness of s.p.a.ce and make a run for Farpoint Station.

On the battle bridge, Data reported quietly, ”Separation is successful, sir.”

Picard found himself breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.

”Grace a Dieu. Where is the hostile?”

Data tabbed his console, and the viewscreen again showed the glint of the alien vessel at its center.

The multiple flares of photon torpedo explosions were still glistening around it. Picard clenched his fist and hit his knee in triumph.

”Good timing. All stop. Reverse course.”

The Enterprise collapsed its warp envelope and swung around to face its pursuer head on. On the huge forward viewer, Picard could see that the photon torpedoes had apparently had no effect on the Q s.h.i.+p. Despite several near-direct hits, the alien vessel remained unchanged. It drove on toward the Enterprise with no decrease in speed. The two s.h.i.+ps were on a collision course.

Picard studied the viewscreen a moment longer and then said, ”Hold position.”

Data suppressed a surprised look and replied evenly, ”Aye, sir.”

”They'll be on us in minutes-” Troi began.

”I know that, Counselor.”

”Will we make a fight of it, Captain?” Tasha asked. ”If we can at least damage their s.h.i.+p-”

Picard pointed at the viewer and snorted. ”Lieutenant Yar, are you recommending we fight a life form that has already demonstrated significant military superiority?” He stared at her, waiting. ”If you think we have a chance of winning, I'd like to hear your advice.”

Lt. Yar flushed and looked away, unable to face her captain's challenging look. He was right, of course. And she was embarra.s.sed.

Tasha Yar knew what her worst fault was. She reacted too quickly. It was why she was a good security chief. But it was also why she often had trouble coping with situations where s.h.i.+p's security was compromised. She still found it difficult to allow for diplomatic and strategic considerations.

The renegade colony in which she had grown up had been lawless and murderous. Her early years had been spent surviving, and all her experience had taught her to act first and try to control a situation before a.n.a.lyzing it. Until she entered Starfleet Academy, she had acted on the sure knowledge that hesitation could mean death. The humanitarian principles on which Starfleet based all its decisions had at first been a shock to her. But she had listened and she had learned. ...

Something about Starfleet's basic tenets spoke to her. Not to the person she pretended to be, or the performance she put on for the people around her, or even the person she wanted to be-it spoke to who she really was. Her secret self. The self that she had shared with no one in her life.

Starfleet's policies were based on the single a.s.sertion that Life is sacred. Everywhere.

Tasha had not trusted this a.s.sertion. Not at first. Her initial reaction had been skepticism and derision. The Starfleet Ethics and Moral Philosophy courses were full of those discussions. But after a while, Tasha began to realize that what they were really talking about was the same thing that she had secretly dreamed of for years.

Life as it is lived isn't necessarily the way life has to be. We can do better. We are each and every one of us, always capable of going beyond what we think are our limits. That is our history. We will do better.

Tasha realized-like the dawning of a great light-that Starfleet truly wanted the same things she did. Children did not have to die of starvation. People did not have to live in poverty. Illiteracy was not inevitable. The conditions under which she had grown up were a terrible aberration, and not a norm.

This was the life she had dreamed of-she could start living it today. And she had accepted that in a simple declaration: ”If it is to be, let it begin with me.”

And from that moment, she was never the same woman again.

But even so, there were moments-like this one-when she still responded with her old instincts. ”I...

spoke before I thought, sir. We should look for some way to distract them from going after the saucer section.”

”Better, Lieutenant,” Picard said, nodding approval.

”Full stop, sir,” Data reported. ”Holding position.”

Picard looked over at Troi, who was manning the communications board. ”Troi, signal the following in all languages and on all frequencies. 'We surrender.' State that we are not asking for any terms or conditions.”

A ripple of consternation flowed around the battle bridge as the crew exchanged puzzled looks.

Surrender? This from Jean-Luc Picard? Only Troi felt the calm, the confidence, the sense of rightness that the captain put forth. It was not a sense of failure or capitulation. Picard clearly had the conviction this was the only correct thing to do.

”Aye, sir,” Troi said firmly. ”All language forms and frequencies.” She opened the communications channels and tied in the universal translator. ”Enterprise to Q. We surrender. Repeat: we surrender.

Our surrender is unconditional. We do not ask for terms.”

As Troi repeated the broadcast, all eyes turned to the viewscreen where the alien hostile was seen to be rapidly bearing down on them. As it neared them, the gleaming shape began to open up, partially revealing the grid. It curved and expanded, reaching out to enclose the Enterprise. As it encompa.s.sed them, a cacaphony of sound tore through the s.h.i.+p, the scream of metal being stressed beyond its limits. The entire battle section was shaken violently, forcing the crew to grab for anything solid that they could cling to. The raging, howling sound rose to a peak, and the violence of the shaking increased. A fierce, blinding flash of light bathed the battle bridge. Then there was silence.

Chapter Three.

THE LIGHT FADED.

Picard was no longer on the battle bridge. He, Data, Troi and Tasha were seated in the prisoner's dock of an immense courtroom. The courtroom was gleaming steel and gla.s.s, stark and supremely functional. Spectators were still filing in, and a buzz of excited speculation filled the air. A cadre of soldiers was spotted around the courtroom. They were armed and appeared to be uniformly surly. The clothing, hairstyles and facial decorations of the spectators also indicated the time period was the same as the soldiers'. Picard had always enjoyed the study of history; even the unpleasant chapters had their lessons to be learned. He recognized the architecture and tone of this setting in which they had been placed as apparent prisoners.

Picard was not sure exactly how it had happened. A time warp? Not likely. Transport to a carefully prepared setting? Possible, but if so, where were the other bridge officers? Why were only he, Troi, Tasha and Data here? Had Q changed the battle bridge somehow? That seemed the most likely probability. Q had had no difficulties changing his personal appearance when he appeared on the Enterprise and had ended with a characterization of this time period.

The sound of a bell drew their attention to a man at the front of the courtroom. An Asian in a long robe appeared, carrying a slim portable viewscreen. From his studies, Picard knew this would be a Mandarin-Bailiff. The man nodded to a court functionary, who once more used an ancient Oriental bell to gain attention.

”The prisoners will all stand,” the Mandarin-Bailiff announced. Picard motioned to his officers to remain seated.

Data had been studying the room with great curiosity. Picard could almost feel the intensity of a.n.a.lyza-tion from the android as he catalogued the courtroom, its spectators and appurtenances.

”Historically intriguing, Captain,” Data commented. ”Very, very accurate.”

Picard nodded, his admiration held in abeyance by the feeling that this setting would be used as a weapon against them. ”Mid-21st Century, the post atomic horror ...” Picard hated the era. It had been a time of deep human crisis. Still wounded and bleeding from the terror of nuclear war, humanity had sought answers to its pain and problems through the merciless application of a new form of dictatorial government and law representing neither capitalism nor communism, but taking a few dollops from both. It had been the last of the worst Earth governments, for once it had been overthrown, humanity began to grow toward its true potential. Q, of course, had chosen to ignore later eras that would place humans in a better light.