Shadows of the Night, Part II

Picard stood at Mon Mothma's side, still in awe at the sight of Coruscant. He'd never visited the world before today, and even though he knew it was an entire city spread over the planet, the sight of it still amazed him. But for now, he remained focused as she took to the podium; a hush descending over the crowd. For those unable to fit into what had been until last week Imperial Square, her image was being flashed across the planet from pole to pole, and through the holonet to every civilization in the galaxy. If she was bothered by the thought of all those eyes focused on her, she didn't show it. She gave a speech, brief, patriotic, and to the point. The crowd was ecstatic, Picard noticed. It's a wonder the Emperor was ever able to control this world with the feelings of animosity that continued towards him even now, so long after his death. His mind wandered as he thought about the meetings he'd had with the man, his skin prickling at the mere thought of him. Pure evil, Picard thought. If the man had a redeeming quality, Picard couldn't imagine it. He was suddenly jerked back to the present when he heard his name mentioned, and he got up and stepped to the podium.

"Thank you," he said to Mon Mothma. "The Federation joins you in celebration of your achievement. It is difficult to imagine how different things are now compared to when our two sides met. The Republic was a government in exile, and the Federation the unwitting puppets of the Empire. Who could have thought that after a mere three years we would have toppled that regime, and stand here in a galaxy that again knows freedom. The Emperor's corrupt ideals, like the man himself, have now perished, and I have no doubt they will remain a minor blemish in the glorious history of this ancient and enlightened civilization."

The crowd cheered, but somehow through it, a single voice penetrated. Gradually the crowd became silent as the man continued speaking. The man was right up front, and the news agencies were focused on him. He wasn't used to public speaking under these circumstances, so he reacted instinctively, which was to address the challenger, but even as he spoke he realized his mistake. "I'm sorry," Picard said, "I didn't hear what you said."

"I said you're wrong, ambassador," the man called up to him. "The Emperor is not dead! He is alive and will destroy all who oppose him!"

He could just ignore him, but Picard thought it would be best to lay this to rest. "I assure you, the man is quite dead."

"You lie!" the man screamed. "His body was never found!"

"His body was never found because the Death Star disintegrated it," Picard replied. "I was there, I saw him die."

"So you claim. But the Emperor has powers far beyond your imagination, Terran!"

"That may be," Picard replied. "If what you say is true, then collect your evidence and submit it to the authorities. Let the galaxy know the truth. But until that time-" Picard never had the chance to finish. Things seemed to quickly grow hostile, security forces started moving in to calm it. A shot rang out, and the protestor fell over, a blaster mark on his chest.

"Greetings," Quark said to the gentleman who stepped into his bar. "Welcome to Quark's, jewel of Deep Space 13."

The gentleman nodded and took a seat. "You've set things up awfully quick. Most of the other shops are still getting ready to open." Deep Space 13 had only been opened for service a week ago, occupying the position near the Bajoran wormhole that had previously been the home of Deep Space 9. Before the Empire came, that is.

"My bar was destroyed along with Deep Space 9," Quark remarked as he poured the man a drink. "But it was fully insured, with a special rider on destruction by the Federation."

The stranger looked puzzled, "But, I thought the Empire had destroyed the station."

"Yes, it did," Quark said, stacking some glasses. "But it happened to be destroyed during a Federation attack while the Empire was their ally, so technically, it was destroyed by the Federation."

"I'm not sure the Federation likes the thought of that."

"Probably not," Quark remarked. He showed how much that mattered to him.

The last of the glass' contents vanished. "So you made a pretty penny on that destruction."

Quark turned back, typical Ferengi grin in place. "Yes indeed. This is actually twice the size of my last bar."

The stranger reached into his pocket. "Speaking of bars, can you make change for the drink, I don't have anything small." He was pulling a bar of gold-pressed latinum out of his pocket when his hand slipped, causing nine more to fall out. Quark eyed the money in typical Ferengi fashion.

"No problem," the bartender remarked. While he made change, he tried to speak nonchalantly. "Are you interested in anything besides refreshment? Perhaps some entertainment?" He indicated the gambling area located nearby. The gentleman turned and looked.

"Games of chance?" he said, slightly puzzled.

"Just a little friendly game, all in fun," Quark remarked. "You might actually be interested in this new game imported from the distant galaxy of the Republic: sah-bahck."

The stranger looked at the table, clearly unsure. "I don't know, is this a difficult game to learn?"

"Not at all," Quark remarked. "It's an ancient and wondrous game played by the nobility of the Republic. It is said that in times gone past, disputing warlords would solve their problems by coming together and enjoying a game. Come on, give it a whirl." He made a gesture of happiness as the man finally walked towards the table. "That's the spirit. Would you care for another drink, mister... ?"

The man sat down. "Calrissian. Lando Calrissian. And yes, a drink would be fine."

Picard was in his office when Mon Mothma arrived. He got up quickly; she didn't pay personal visits every day. "Madame President," he said in a friendly tone.

"Mr. Picard," she said in the same tone. He offered a chair and she took it. "On behalf of the Republic, I'd like to apologize for the disturbance this morning."

"It was hardly within your control," Picard said as he sat down. "People have unpopular, even ludicrous, opinions sometimes. We certainly won't hold you accountable for them."

"Thank you." Mon Mothma folded her hands. "The man who was killed was named Elhid Whar. He was on a New Republic security watch list, but somehow managed to slip through into the square. We're fortunate that he didn't try more than just interrupting your speech."

"I assume he's an Imperial sympathizer?"

"That's putting it mildly," Mon Mothma said. "We've discovered the emergence of a group referred to as the Cult of the Emperor."

"Oh God," Picard said, covering his face and rubbing his temples. "It seems every time reality cannot get more ridiculous, someone volunteers to prove me wrong."

"Ridiculous, perhaps, but dangerous nevertheless." Mon Mothma picked up the satchel she'd brought with her. "His lodgings were searched this afternoon; no real evidence to lead us further, except for one thing. Some alien technology." She pulled it out, and Picard gaped. "I take it by your expression that my guess was correct."

Picard stared at it. "It's Borg," he said. He finally tore his eyes away from it and looked at Mon Mothma, horror on his face. "What the devil is an Imperial fanatic doing with Borg technology?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Mon Mothma said. "You are an expert, after all."

Picard shook his head. "I know more than I like," he said. "But I'm completely stumped." He thought. "But, then, I do happen to know the greatest expert on the Borg we know of."

The turbolift doors opened, and Lt. Commander Seven of Nine walked up the hall to Science Room 2. The door opened, revealing Commander Geordi Laforge, first officer of the USS Enterprise. "Morning, commander," he said, not looking away from his graphs.

Seven held out a PADD. "My annual personnel report on the Science department."

"Ah, your usual light reading, I assume," Laforge said, taking the PADD and setting it down. "I don't suppose you want to give me it in fifty words or less."

"If that is what you desire. They continue to fall short of perfection."

"That covers a lot of ground, commander," Laforge said.

"Indeed, which is why I provided a detailed report."

Laforge hung his head. "Okay, point taken." He took up the PADD. "While I'm looking this over, wanna give me your opinion on this?"

Seven took a seat and looked at it. "The Death Star explosion. I thought the Daystrom Institute completed their analysis two years ago."

"They did. I decided to look it over anyway."

"You have reason to believe they missed something?"

"No reason, I just thought I'd look it over and reach my own conclusions."

"A waste of time," Seven said. "The institute gave all information a thorough examination."

Laforge chuckled a little. "Don't you have any hobbies?"

"No. It would only interfere in my work."

"Seven, there's more to life than work."

"Then I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I find work and hobbies to be one and the same. Both are how I occupy my time. The difference is that I use it to proceed towards my own perfection."

"Proceed... meaning you fall short as well."

"Yes. I have detailed my shortcomings in my report."

Laforge tried very hard not to laugh. "Then I suppose I can't fault you for holding people to unreasonable standards. Look if you think it's a waste of time-"

"I will assist you," Seven said matter-of-factly. "Captain Riker has suggested that I work on my social skills; I have listed that among my failings on page three."

"Yes, so I see. Anyway, there's this energy reading that's been bothering me for a while."

Seven examined it carefully. "This information was not in the Daystrom report."

Laforge's head jerked up from the PADD. "You're serious?" Then he remembered who he was talking to. "Right, of course you are. Looks like this wasn't such a waste of time after all."

Seven tapped some controls and looked over the information. "It is a transporter beam."

"No, I thought that at first too, but take a look at the gravitational topography chart. It's causing a noticeable distortion in the space-time continuum."

Seven continued hitting panels, until the screen was filled with another chart, a flat graph with contour lines around it. "I've seen that before," Laforge commented. "It looks like a sensor map of hyperspace."

"Yes," Seven replied, and a green line appeared on the screen, "and this is a transporter signature."

Laforge stared at the line in disbelief. "Wait a minute. You're saying someone sent a transporter through hyperspace? That's impossible, you're misreading the data."

"The pattern matches the signal characteristics of a transporter," Seven replied. "And while it may seem unlikely, it is a distinct possibility."

"What, you mean that someone transported themselves off the Death Star before its destruction?"

"I am unwilling to speculate that far," Seven replied. "Nevertheless, this signal appears to be a transporter beam."

Laforge leaned back, resting his hand on his chin absent-mindedly as he thought. "If you're right, who could've known about it to use it?"

"Clearly someone with authority-" Seven began, but was cut off when the door opened. An ensign walked in and presented her a PADD. She looked at it, and her brow furrowed.

"What's up?" Laforge asked.

"It's a message from the captain-" Seven cut herself. "I mean, from Mr. Picard. They've found Borg technology in the possession of some madman."

"That's a scary thought," Laforge commented.

Seven stared at the PADD. "Yes," she said distantly, "very."

Col. Kira Nerys strolled around the new promenade of Deep Space 13, trying to familiarize herself as best she could with her new home. Totally different place, she thought; Federation design, as opposed to Cardassian, meant a thousand details that she'd have to get used to. A fresh start for a new station, and for herself. It had taken a while, a long while actually, to get over the hate. She thought she'd beaten it for a time, and then she'd learned the truth about the attack, that it wasn't the Cardassians after all, but the Empire that had destroyed her home.

That hate had been difficult too. The Empire destroyed the station, and it wasn't even out of survival or tactics, but to further a political agenda. The thought had enraged her for a very long time. One time, in a fit of near insanity, she'd tried removing her right arm, the arm the Imperials had given her. Of course, she didn't, and she still had it to this day. In the end, it had actually been a part of the healing; Vedic Heral had told her that, like the loss of the station, it was something she had to accept now, and anger wouldn't change reality to accommodate her. Not to say that she didn't hate the Empire, but rather she'd learned that it should be she controlling her anger instead of the other way around.

Quark's. Now that had been a surprise. Trust that little Ferengi to set up shop and be running his whole enterpise like nothing had happened. Now there was a fellow who didn't dwell on the past. And considering his insurance settlement, he's probably grateful to the Empire, but then, he turned out pretty lucky in the end. She'd thought he'd died on DS9 with Rom and everyone else, but apparently he'd slipped away on business after his run-in with the bounty hunter. It figured; all the good people lost and the slimy Ferengi is the one lucky enough to survive. She strolled through the entrance to look at the new bar when a man stepped up to greet her.

"Greetings, I'm Lando Calrissian, the administrator of this establishment." Behind him, Quark snarled and went back to work.

"Excuse me?" Kira asked, clearly unsure of what was going on.

"Would you care for some refreshment?" Lando asked, his charm dazzling.

"Quark, what's going on?"

The Ferengi, his back turned as he was mixing drinks, straightened and sighed deeply, then turned around. "I'd like to report a crime," he said. "I've been swindled out of my rightful property by a confidence man."

"Quark," Lando said shaking his head, "you are such a sore loser."

"What's going on?" Kira asked a second time.

"He cheated and stole my bar away from me!"

"Hey, it's not my fault you decided to throw half the bar's shares into the pot. You could've quit while you were only down fifty bars."

Kira couldn't believe it. "You... you lost control of the bar in a game of cards?!"

"Sabacc," Lando said. "An ancient and wondrous game-"

"Shut up!" Quark replied, and returned to mixing drinks.

Kira tried not to laugh at the Ferengi's misfortune. "Well, Mr. Calrissian, I hope you enjoy your time on Deep Space 13. I'm Col. Kira, the administrator of this facility."

Lando smiled, and Kira melted a little at the man's voice. "A pleasure to meet you colonel. I'm certain I'll find this station most agreeable."

Picard walked into his home, heard the door close, and then nearly had a heart attack. "Greetings ambassador."

After the shock wore off his surprise turned to anger. "Thrawn," he said, laying eyes on the Imperial lounging on his sofa. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"My apologies, ambassador," Admiral Thrawn remarked. "I hated having to intrude into your home like this, but I needed to speak with you urgently, and obviously official channels were out of the question."

"Considering that a state of war exists between the Empire and the Republic, our allies, then I'd say you're quite right. You'll also understand why I'm calling security."

"Picard," Thrawn said anxiously, "Please listen. Do you think I would make myself so vulnerable if it were not a matter of the utmost urgency?"

"I'm not interested," Picard replied.

"You should be," Thrawn replied quickly. "Think, Picard. This is why I came to you, I know that you're a rational man."

Picard turned to face Thrawn, his contempt unrestrained. "You're hoping to deceive me again, as you did so many times before."

"What deceptions?" Thrawn asked, holding his hands out to reveal they were empty. "That we were going to fight the Borg? That we wanted to be your allies? Picard, I may be an Admiral, but I don't dictate Imperial policy." He leaned forward. "Why do you think the Emperor shunted me off to the backwaters of your galaxy to fight the Borg? Because he knew I opposed his plans."

"If you were so opposed, why didn't you take action?" Picard asked, refusing to accept this attempt to placate him.

Thrawn sighed. "My country, right or wrong. How many Federation officers remained loyal even after so many others had defected?"

"That's hardly the same thing."

"Of course it is," Thrawn said. "But that's not important. What I need to discuss with you is." He gestured towards a chair. "Please, ambassador. Just a few minutes of your time. After all, I did retrieve your officers from the Tsunkatse for you. Haven't I earned at least a hearing out?"

Picard ground his teeth, but Thrawn did have a point; he did save Seven and Travis' lives. "Fine," he said, taking a seat. "But this had better not be a waste of my time."

Thrawn nodded. "Believe me, I think you'll be very interested in what I have to say."

Go To Part III
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