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Chapter Sixteen

EVEN AFTER TWO GLASSES OF WINE, Picard found he couldn’t sleep. His mind was filled with violent, haunting images: flashes of red and blue, of exploding ships, of murdered people-Melacron, Cordracites, Benniari-all of them floating bloodily in the void.

Had Culunnh been wrong about third-party intervention, after all? Was this simply the logical if tragic progression of relations between two firmly entrenched adversaries?

If only he had heard something from Crusher and Tuvok, he might have had an answer. However, they had yet to report in. In fact, the captain was beginning to wonder if something had happened to them.

Finally, he decided that enough was enough. He crossed the room to the communications cube that sat on an endtable and tapped it. It lit up instantly, filling the place with a gentle blue radiance.

“This is Culunnh,” came the Benniari’s reedy reply.

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour,” said Picard.

“Ah, Captain Picard,” said the First Minister, and his voice grew warm and sad at the same time. “It would not be possible for you to disturb me. How may I assist you?” he asked. “Or,” and Culunnh sounded more hopeful suddenly, “do you have news to impart?”

Picard sighed before replying. “No news, First Minister, save that I feel I must return to my ship. I appreciate your hospitality, but I have to question if there’s anything more I can accomplish here.”

“I see.” The Benniari’s voice was soft… resigned.

“I think the wisest course of action,” said the captain, “may be for me to brief Starfleet Command on what has taken place here … and to advise them to prepare for the worst.”

Culunnh made a whistling noise. “I cannot help agreeing with you,” he replied, “though I wish it were not so. The Melacronai and Cordracite delegations have alerted me that they will depart in the morning, sooner than I expected. And most of the other diplomats will leave as well, as soon as they realize the Melacron and the Cordracites are gone.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Picard said sincerely.

“There will be a formal breaking of fast in the morning for whoever has remained,” the Benniari continued. “But at this point, I think there will be so few left that I may be able to host that meal in my quarters.”

The captain sighed. “I hope it fills the council chamber,” he told the First Minister, though he hadn’t the least expectation that his wish would come true.

“Shall I see you off?” asked Culunnh.

“No,” said Picard, “that won’t be necessary. I’ve bothered you enough tonight as it is. We will be in touch, however, I assure you.” He paused. “I only regret we were unable to be of more help.”

“You staved off an armed conflict for several days,” the First Minister told him. “As you yourself pointed out, that was an accomplishment. Travel safely, Captain Picard.”

“Thank you, First Minister. It has been a genuine honor to work with you.” Then something else occurred to him. “Say good-bye to Governor Thul for me, will you? Tell him I enjoyed working with him as well.”

“I will do that,” Culunnh promised.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more either of them could say. “Good night,” the captain added.

“Good night,” came the reply.

With that, the cube went dark. Frowning, Picard tapped his communicator badge. “Picard to Ben Zoma,” he said.

A pause. Then, “Ben Zoma here. What can I do for you, Captain?”

“A change of plans. I won’t be staying the night here after all,” Picard informed him.

“Nothing more for you to accomplish?” asked the first officer.

“Nothing,” the captain agreed. “Alert the transporter room, will you? I’m ready when they are.”

“Aye, sir. Ben Zoma out.”

Picard had time to look around his quarters one last time and wish he were leaving Debennius II a happier man. Then there was a shimmer in the air and he found himself back in the Stargazer’s lone transporter room.

As Crusher watched, Grace slunk out of the shadows and took off, leading the way again.

He and his Vulcan companion followed her through a labyrinth of