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Jean-Luc Picard sat in his quarters, in the midst of fulfilling a months-old promise to himself, when the doorchime rang.

He let out a long sigh before saying anything. After they set out from Starbase 24, Picard had left strict instructions with Worf that he was not to be disturbed for any reason short of a warp-core breach until they reached the Cardassian border, where they’d rendezvous with the Excalibur and the Sentinel.

The war had dragged on for months, and now it seemed a new front had opened up. Nine ships had been sent to halt Cardassian aggression in three Federation systems. Of those ships only two-the Bellerophon and the Musashi-were still intact, the former just barely. Seven Federation starships had been destroyed by Cardassian weapons that nobody had ever seen before. Luckily, one of the ships, Voyager, had managed to send along full sensor data on the new weapons (the Bellerophon’s computer core was damaged, so its sensor readings were lost), and shields fleetwide had been adjusted to accommodate. Mister O’Brien had stated with confidence that the Enterprise would be able to withstand “whatever the Cardies can throw at us, sir.”

Picard hadn’t been pleased with the chief engineer’s use of that particular slur, but he’d let it pass. O’Brien had fought on the Cardassian front for years while serving on the Rutledge. Besides, Picard didn’t feel he could justify defending a people who had invaded Federation space and wantonly destroyed seven Starfleet vessels.

It was then that Picard realized he needed a break. When they’d gotten their new assignment, and their VIP guest had arrived, Picard ordered Ensign Kell Perim, the new conn officer, to set course for the border, and then gave Worf the bridge, with instructions not to disturb him.

For the three days it would take to reach the border, Picard intended to read.

Archaeology had always been a passion of his. It had almost been a career; but he had chosen Starfleet instead. For the longest time, he didn’t regret that decision, not even four years ago, when his mentor, Professor Richard Galen, tried to convince Picard to join him, shortly before he died.

But lately, since the war began, Picard found himself wishing he could summon Q to appear before him and once again give him the chance to relive his life. Only this time, he would make sure to pursue his studies with Galen.

Anything to avoid this war.

Still, at least this assignment was one he could live with.

When the doorchime sounded a second time, he set aside the padd containing the latest issue of The Journal of Archaeological Studies and said, “Come.”

The doors slid aside to reveal the balding head and round face of Ambassador Theodore Krajensky. “Captain. I’m sorry for interrupting. Your first officer asked me to make it clear that he told me not to disturb you.”

“Quite all right, Mister Ambassador.” Picard rose to his feet; Krajensky was the one person on board besides Worf for whom Picard was willing to break his self-imposed exile. “Please come in.”

“Thank you.” Krajensky came into Picard’s quarters, the doors sliding shut behind him. “I wanted to talk to you about our mission.”

“Of course.” Picard indicated the chair that was perpendicular to his while asking, “May I get you anything?”

“Actually, some ginger ale would be nice.”

Picard walked over to the replicator and instructed it to provide a glass of ginger ale and another cup of hot Earl Grey tea.

After the drinks materialized with the telltale hum, Picard brought both over to the couch, setting them down on the table that sat between them. “What about the mission do you wish to discuss, Mister Ambassador?”

Krajensky took a sip of his ginger ale before answering. “I wanted to take your temperature, Captain. I received a great deal of resistance from many quarters in Starfleet Command regarding my mission-despite the fact that it came directly from the president himself.”

Before Krajensky could continue, Picard held up a hand. “You may rest assured, Mister Ambassador, that I am not in any of those quarters. It is,