Worlds Without End, Part XII

Captain Picard waited in his ready room, fooling himself into thinking he was reading the latest report on the diplomatic front. The truth was that his mind was too occupied with his own problems to focus. He'd always known he wasn't perfect, but it was the sort of "not perfect" that lended itself towards false modesty, rather than the "not perfect" of "sometimes I'm going to make an inexcusable mistake, because I'm only human."

"Only human..." He'd boasted of being human before Q, about how far they'd come. He'd quoted Shakespeare: "in action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god!," he'd said without a trace of irony. Looking back, his hubris was astonishing. And what had happened the next time Q arrived? An introduction to a species called the Borg, and look at what had come of that. Picard had learned the bitter truth that no matter how much Shakespeare he'd like to throw at things, they were neither gods nor angels, just mere mortals; that had been an unpleasant lesson. And then the Borg came again, and that lesson was far worse. "Evolved," was how he'd always liked to describe modern humanity; Earth was a paradise. Well, it turned out to be a fool's paradise, didn't it. Oh, they had patted themselves on the back for how civilized they were, and then the Dominion came, and martial law was declared on Earth. The Founders threatened, and the enlightened humans designed biological weapons to commit genocide. When push came to shove, when danger threatened, humans did what they had done in those barbaric, nonsensical days that Picard and the other Starfleet officers had always arrogantly chuckled about.

But Q brought the Borg... and however much he might seem like an annoying imp, Picard knew that Q wasn't stupid. It wasn't the brash action he made it out to be, it was a calculated move to strip away Picard's delusions that he himself was above that sort of thing. When the Borg launched their second attack, he'd seen that revenge is not something you can evolve beyond. When Seven lay on the floor of his bridge, screaming in agony and begging Picard to help her, he learned that prejudice and paranoia don't go away because it's given lip-service. "Commies under the bed," he'd joked in years past about the backwards twentieth century world, but Starfleet officers looked with suspicion on one another when the Founders arrived... and Picard had looked at the weeping girl and knew in his bones she was just a Borg agent. He wasn't laughing now... no, the only one laughing was Q, no doubt spouting those words of Shakespeare with all the irony they were intended to carry. And he had every right to laugh.

The door chimed, and Picard set the PADD down on his desk. Well, he thought, time to get this over with. "Come," he said.

The door opened and Seven walked in. She took her usual place in her usual pose. There wasn't the slightest flicker on her face, no sign in any of her body language that she resented him for what he'd done. "You wish to see me, captain?" Again, nothing in her voice... it twisted the knife far worse than anything else she could possibly say. He was the captain, she was a member of his crew, and that was a two-way street. She was expected to follow his orders without question, even into death itself, to trust his judgment always. In the same way, he needed to demonstrate that that simply wasn't because of a couple pips on his collar. But he'd failed her. Oh, he'd made mistakes in the past, and his people had died from it, but this was different. This time was nothing short than his own failings as a captain and as a human being, and that made it a bitter pill.

Picard folded his hands and leaned his forehead against them. "Seven of Nine," he said. "I'm glad to see you've recovered so quickly," he added, looking up. "To say I owe you an apology would be a gross understatement."

"You had no way of knowing that it was not a Borg deception," Seven said. "Your actions were understandable in light of the gravity of the situation."

"No, they were not," Picard said. "They were paranoid and irrational, and I want you to know that I am deeply sorry for what I said and did... and failed to do."

Seven seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "I... accept your apology, captain."

"I want you to understand, Seven, that this is no reflection on you. Your service to both the Enterprise and the Federation has been exemplary. Please, don't think that this was anyone's failing but my own. You are a model officer."

"I will take that as a complement, captain, though it would be difficult to consider myself a model officer since I'm not an actual member of Starfleet."

Picard paused in mid-reply. "Yes, of course," he said, then he smiled a little. "But you are very good at giving the impression that you are."

"I assure you, captain, that it was never my intent-"

"I mean that as a compliment," Picard said. "Despite your lack of formal training, you do handle the job very well. I've seen how effectively you give and receive orders, follow through on protocols."

"Captain Janeway employed rather harsh discipline when I did not," Seven said. "I assumed that was the norm for Starfleet."

"Well whatever the reason, you would make an excellent officer... one I would be proud to have as a member of my crew, if that would interest you."

For perhaps the first time he'd ever seen, Seven seemed at a loss. She seemed focused on a spot on the floor, but Picard let her take her time. "The opportunity to receive a commission is desirable," Seven said eventually. "But I am not accustomed to working with others."

"You work well with Commander Data," Picard said. "Is it because he's a machine?"

"No, it's because he's intelligent," Seven said.

Picard had been caught off guard, and a laugh managed to slip out. "I'm sorry," he said, covering his mouth. "Yes, I suppose there's that. What you're saying in your round about way is that starting at the bottom and working your way up isn't suited to you."

"I realize that that would be an affront to other officers who have worked in the system," Seven said. "But I am not... suited, to use your term, to serving in the capacity that I have observed from such positions. If that is the only way, then I'm afraid I must decline."

"Normally it is," Picard said. "However, given the circumstances, and your repeatedly exceptional performance, I think we can work something out. Perhaps chief science officer would be to your liking?"

"That is a very attractive offer, captain," Seven said, and her nervousness showed in her voice. "I'd imagine the Enterprise would remain on the forefront of exploration once our mission is complete."

"There'd be many things for someone with an insatiable curiosity to see," Picard said with a smile. "But it's not simply a matter of handing you a rank badge and shaking your hand. There may be tests and tasks-"

"I am willing to do whatever is necessary, captain," Seven said resolutely.

"Good," Picard said, getting up. "And remember: if it's not to your liking, you can resign whenever you like, or if something else comes along, take a transfer."

"Why would I do that?"

"Well, new opportunities," Picard said. "Perhaps a post at the Academy, or a position at the Daystrom Institute... or just settling down, getting married-"

"Is enduring your humor one of the tests, captain?" Seven asked.

"Not the romantic type, Seven?" Picard said with a smirk.

"No, captain. I have observed this human social convention and find it only impairs efficiency."

"Well," Picard said, "that's certainly your prerogative, Seven, but I'd like to give you two pieces of advice. One is that you'll find that most of the best things in life impair efficiency, and the other," and he couldn't help but grin, "is that when it comes to that particular 'human social convention,' it usually doesn't arise from conscious choices."

"My subconscious is also not the romantic type," Seven said.

"Noted," Picard said, leading the way out onto the bridge. "Any word from the Empire, Number One?"

"The Incaciad just contacted us, we can beam over to the Conquest as soon as we'd like."

"Good, Data, Will, Seven, you're with me; Lieutenant Travis, you have the bridge."

Hokey religions and ancient weapons may have been something for Luke and Leia, but for Han, the real world had enough of its own challenges. He'd admit that he was just as likely to rely on his instincts as those two, but at least he knew that his were based on years of experience. When you're breaking into a place, and the security's just a little too easy, you get a bad feeling. When you're meeting a customer and you don't see enough space for all the cargo, you get a bad feeling. But one of the really nasty ones is when all conversation stops and people turn and look at you. Even the greenest scoundrel knew not only was it a bad sign, but that you'd likely be black and smoking before much longer.

Han played the situation as cool as he could. "I'm just looking for a little information, that's all," he said. He didn't glance in Lando's direction, it'd tip them off that he wasn't alone. He was just going to have to trust him to jump in if he had to... and trust wasn't easy to have when things started turning ugly. But there were some things you had to do in situations like this, and while it may have been a long time since they had to work together, habits that kept you alive stuck with you.

"Why would anyone want to learn about the Federation?" the Kazon demanded.

"I have an associate looking at doing some business with them," Han replied, in just the right tone to hopefully maintain interest without increasing the tension.

The Kazon snorted and looked at his comrades, who seemed to reflect his bemused contempt. "Then your 'associate' must enjoy being swindled. The Federation is cowardly and devious."

"It sounds like you've had dealings with them," Han said knowingly. "Good... my associate would certainly like to know more about them before he starts negotiations."

"All knowledge comes at a price, human," the Kazon said darkly.

Han nodded with a knowing smirk. "How does two hundred liters sound?"

The bad feeling was not only back, but it was jumping up and down and waving flags. Kriff, he thought as he watched their stunned reaction, too high, way too high. Let's hope I didn't botch this.

"You are willing to give up that much water just to learn about the Federation?" the Kazon said skeptically. "Your 'associate' is obviously not going to stay in business very long if you squander his goods in this manner."

"Yeah, well, that's his problem," Han said.

The Kazon leaned menacingly across the table at him. "And it will be your problem if you try to flee without payment, human." Han didn't move a muscle. "I have only encountered one of their vessels," the Kazon continued. "But it was enough to show me how little they can be trusted. Their leader -Janeway-" he spat the name, "lives by deceit, and she spread chaos all throughout the Kazon Ogla. We haven't seen or heard from them in years and good riddance." Several others muttered their agreement. "I do hope they've met a terrible end."

"Where are the rest of them?" Han asked.

"You still want to have dealings with them, human?" the Kazon asked incredulously. "What could they have that would interest your 'associate' so greatly?"

"That would cost you three hundred liters," Han said with a smirk.

The Kazon made a slight growl. "They were brought here by the Caretaker from somewhere else, I don't know where."

"Where is this Caretaker?"

"Dead," the Kazon replied as he took a drink. "Killed by Janeway. Then she blew up the array he created to protect the Ocampa; I guess she didn't care for them either." He slammed his empty mug down. "Now, about that water, human..."

After the trade was finished Han and Lando took off for the newly built Rebel base. It wasn't great, but given what they had to work with, and the amount of time involved, Han had been impressed. Unfortunately, the mission didn't seem to be off to a great start. "What do you think of that?" he asked Lando.

"He likes wa-ter, hu-man," Lando said in a grunting imitation of the Kazon, and Han cracked up. "It sounded to me like he was telling the truth, or at least his version of it. These Kazon have got no love for the Federation."

"So, no new info, but at least we know one more person who doesn't like them," Han said. "And that name again, Janeway... how many times has it come up now?"

Lando leaned back in the co-pilot seat and whistled. "This makes the... fourth time, if you want to count the Hirogen."

Han winced at the mention of the name. "I though we'd agreed not to discuss them ever again."

"Still a little sore?" Lando chided him

"I don't want to talk about it," Han said, which only brought more laughs from Lando.

"Well, don't talk to me, talk to Chewie. Last I saw he's still got that souvenir of his."

"I've tried, he thinks it's funny, can you believe that?" He looked over and saw Lando's smirk. "Yeah, thanks," he added, pulling back on the hyperdrive controls, "you're a true friend."

Seven stood at attention for appearance sake as the Lambda-class shuttle settled into the star destroyer's hangar. In addition to the Enterprise's senior officers that were on hand, a number of Imperial troops and officers were standing at attention. Thrawn stood in the center, waiting patiently as the ramp lowered. Seven kept looking over at him; he was very good at minimizing his body language, but years of dealing with the eccentricities of Voyager's crew had taught her how to catch the details. He wasn't happy about what was going on, despite the thin smile he had for the arrivals.

There were several, but Seven's eyes immediately fell on the one she had no doubt everyone was focused on. The man was nearly two meters tall, clad completely in black, complete with a frightening mask and helmet. As he walked, she noted a steady rhythm that must have been an artificial breathing apparatus. Given the devices on his chest, it was clear that he was, well, just like her: a cyborg.

Thrawn stepped up and the two exchanged a few words. The details were too quiet even for Seven to hear, but the tone of his voice made her slightly nervous. Thrawn brought him over and began introducing him. "Lord Darth Vader," he said.

"Seven of Nine," she answered when it was her turn. She had no rank to give like the others, so she added, "Civilian advisor." He said nothing to her directly, and his blank mask seemed to be staring right through her, as if looking for her deepest fear. He turned away to speak to Thrawn. As he did, his cloak billowed slightly, revealing a cylindrical object hanging from his belt. She hadn't seen it before, but she noted for later to check the database they'd received to find out what it was. It may have been because he was here for this mission, or it could be because he was cybernetic. If the latter, it could be of use to her. So far Seven's only experience with such equipment -that was worth talking about, anyway- was from the Borg. She was anxious to learn what the Empire might have to offer.

Seven turned back as one of the Federation diplomats came up the line, leading an oddly dressed man. "Ambassador Talva," he said by way of introduction. "He'll be the official go between with the Federation."

"What will Lord Vader's capacity be, then?" Picard asked.

"He will handle the Imperials in the place of the Emperor, for now," the diplomat explained.

"Until we can devise a way to communicate through the wormhole," Talva added. "And a holo-network is installed for long-range communication."

"That sounds a rather involved project," Picard said.

"It will be worth it in the long run. I'm sure we'll have much to discuss that we'd rather not require weeks to get answers to."

Seven turned her attention back to Vader and Thrawn. She was almost certain their conversation was much more interesting.

"The Borg pose no immediate threat?" Vader asked.

"No, my lord," Thrawn said. "We've secured the other side of the wormhole and work has begun on rebuilding the station. Our campaign to exterminate them will begin soon."

"The Emperor will be most displeased if they destroy the Federation before they can be put to his use."

"I imagine he would be," Thrawn said. "We will provide enough pressure to keep them busy, but this isn't a simple matter. It will take years."

"That is not my concern," Vader said darkly. "Only ensuring the protection of this Federation. Don't fail me admiral... I have seen too much of it of late to remain patient."

"Of course, my lord," Thrawn said.

Go To Part XIII
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