• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

He allowed himself a smile as he began to dismantle his weapon, just in case someone stopped him. Mission accomplished, he thought. And if I am fortunate, the gods will have pity on my soul.

The ruins of Zebros IV turned out to be unlike any Picard had ever examined. In fact, they couldn’t even properly be called “ruins.”

Nearly every edifice he encountered was comprised of an extremely hard, extremely durable blue material, which seemed to exist in great abundance on the planet. The result was that few of the buildings showed any significant signs of wear.

Cabrini scrutinized his tricorder readings against the backdrop of an intense orange sky. Then he looked up at the captain. “This stuff is approximately twelve times harder than diamond,” he said. “We won’t be able to cut it with traditional implements”

Picard nodded. “Which confirms my theory that this civilization enjoyed advanced technology, despite the deceptive simplicity of the construction.” He found himself warming to the subject.

That building there seems to be the most complex,” Cabrini observed. “If we were to-“

“Ben Zoma to Picard,” came the deep voice of the Stargazer’s first officer, interrupting the ensign’s suggestion.

The captain hid a grimace. “Picard here,” he said in response. “What is it, Number One?”

“You’re not going to like it sir.”

“Try me,” said Picard

Gilaad Ben Zoma’s voice was full of regret “You’ve got a message from Starfleet Command. An Admiral Ammerman from Starbase Three is chomping at the bit to talk to you.”

Picard felt his heart sink in his chest The message had, of course, been heard by his away team. They knew as well as he did what it meant and they looked at their captain sympathetically.

Don’t waste pity on me, thought Picard. Unless I am mistaken, none of us will get to enjoy this trip.

“Understood, Mr. Ben Zoma,” he said aloud. “One to beam up.”

“Aye, sir,” came the response.

Stepping away from the group, the captain eyed each of his people in turn. “Unfortunately,” he told them, “you may not have much more time here. If I were you, I would make it count.”

The next thing he knew, Picard was standing in his transporter room again. His operator regarded him.

“Short trip, sir?”

The captain scowled as he removed his helmet and pulled away his suit’s collar flap. “Too short.”

Stepping down from the transporter platform, he tucked his helmet under his arm. Then he headed for his ready room, which adjoined the Stargazer’s bridge.

In just a few minutes, Picard was sitting down in front of his desk, his helmet resting on the smooth, black surface beside his monitor. He thumbed the controls on his workstation and the admiral’s blue-eyed, blond-haired visage filled the screen.

“Hello, Jean-Luc,” said Ammerman.

The admiral was an old acquaintance. He and Picard had met at the Academy, where the older man was serving as an instructor, and continued to stay in touch over the years. Picard had been best man at Ammerman’s wedding and godfather to his eldest daughter.

The fact that Starfleet had chosen Ammerman, who had such a lengthy history with the captain, to deliver what was clearly going to be an urgent message did not bode well. At least, not in Picard’s mind.

“Hello, Admiral,” said the captain, leaning back in his chair. “It’s been a long time. How is Julia?”

“She’s great, just great,” said Ammerman. “And she sends her love, of course. But to be honest, I didn’t contact you to talk about my family.” He frowned a little as he took in the sight of Picard’s envirosuit. “Hauled you out of an away mission, did I?”

The captain eased farther into his chair and began fiddling with the suit “As a matter of fact,” he replied, “you did. An exploration of some ancient ruins on Zebros Four.”

“Damn.” Ammerman looked sincerely regretful. “I hate to do this to you, Jean-Luc, but-“

“Duty calls.” Picard smiled a little. “So… what shape has my duty taken this time, Admiral?”

The other man’s expression turned sober. “How familiar are you with the Melacron-Cordracite