Maker - Michael Jan Friedman
“Picard Here,” He Said,
Sitting up in Bed and Running
His Fingers Through His Hair.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but we’re being hailed by an unidentified cargo vessel. Whoever’s in command wants to speak with you—and you alone.”
“Very well,” said the captain. “I will take it here in my quarters.”
“Aye, sir.”
Instantly, the Federation insignia on the screen—a disk displaying a field of gleaming stars resting in the embrace of twin laurel wreaths—gave way to a different image entirely.
It w ...