The Last Stand - Brad Ferguson [17]
“We need to know about the Krann,” Jemmagar said bluntly.
“Come, come, Jemmagar,” Rikkadar said wearily. “We haven’t even arrived at Government House yet. Surely even you can wait that long.”
“The Krann?” Picard asked. “Who are the Krann?” He looked at Data, who shook his head from side to side in a perfectly practiced manner.
“As if you didn’t know,” Jemmagar sneered. “Is this the kind of forthrightness we are to expect from the Federation of United Planets?”
“The United Federation of Planets, sir,” Data corrected him.
“Whatever,” Jemmagar snapped.
Picard cleared his throat. “Kerajem,” he said, “I assure you that we have never heard of anyone called the Krann. We are the first Federation vessel ever to enter this region of the galaxy. Everything and everyone here is new to us.”
Troi was having trouble pinning down the apprehension behind Jemmagar’s studied rudeness. There seemed to be no reason for it, and certainly neither the captain nor anyone else from the Enterprise had offered Jemmagar any offense. Suddenly the counselor caught the slimmest glimmer of the root of Jemmagar’s fear. It was shared by all the Lethanta. The wellspring of this particular fear lay far down in the dungeons that are built and strengthened in early childhood, where the myths and legends dwell forever even after one has forgotten all about them. They live on without tending. These deepest dungeons represented territory Troi had explored many, many times in psychotherapy, both as therapist and patient. Whatever the fear was, it was big, it had power, and each one of the Lethanta was gripped by it.
The counselor wondered if that fear had a name. Could it be the Krann, perhaps? But who could they be—?
Troi had a sudden thought. “Captain,” she said, “perhaps Minister Jemmagar is referring to whomever is responsible for the present condition of 30452 FAS Three and Four.”
“Why, yes,” Picard said, seizing upon the notion. “Kerajem, just before we came here, we visited a star system eighty-seven light-years away. We know your people once lived on the third planet of that system—”
Picard was surprised to see Kerajem’s eyes suddenly grow wide. The two ministers sitting with him looked stunned. “You know this thing for a fact?” Kerajem whispered. He had grown pale. “How? How is it possible?”
Picard looked at Troi. Her face mirrored something of the awe felt by the Lethanta. “Captain,” she said very quietly, “they did not know this before now. This is very important to them.”
“Of course.” Picard took a moment to search for the right words. “Kerajem,” he said, “we have means available to thoroughly examine a biological form.”
“Please,” Kerajem said. “Tell us about the planet in that other system, Captain. Why do you believe we came from there?”
“More to the point, can you prove it?” Jemmagar rasped.
“Are you certain you want him to?” Rikkadar said.
“I want the truth,” Jemmagar insisted.
“All I can do is tell you how we happened to go there, and what we found when we arrived,” Picard said. “To begin with, we are in this sector on a mission to extend the database of the Federation Astrophysical Survey—that is, we are finding out all we can about this sector of space and everything in it. We visited a nearby star that we have since listed as 30452 FAS on our charts, hence Commander Troi’s reference to that designation.”
“Captain, didn’t you say that this star was eighty-seven light-years from here?” Rikkadar asked.
“Yes, Minister Rikkadar. Yes, I did.”
“The concept of ‘nearby’ has changed since this morning,” Kerajem said wryly. “Please continue, Captain Picard.”
“We found the third planet of that system in a particularly severe state. Our findings were that, some six thousand years ago, the planet was bombarded from space, possibly from orbit, by someone using high-yield nuclear weapons designed to eradicate all life upon it with hard radiation.”