1
Jean-Luc Picard was in dress uniform. Again.
The collar pressed uncomfortably against his throat as he tried to surreptitiously adjust the uniform flap in such a way that it didn’t feel like it was strangling him. He was not succeeding.
“Still no word from Andor,” announced Lieutenant Kociemba, who was operating the transporter controls.
Picard nodded. “It appears our guest will be keeping us waiting a bit longer,” he said to Commander William Riker, who stood to his right, motionless, unbothered by the restriction of his own dress uniform.
“It would appear so,” Riker responded.
Picard stared at the empty transporter pad. He was waiting on the great Andorian dancer Tirra zh’Undissa, one of the twelve guests the Enterprise was currently collecting on behalf of the Betazoid government for an upcoming cultural ceremony. Tirra was the first dancer, but there was also a smattering of royalty, three singers, and one Hallian sculptor who worked entirely in zutanian crystal. The route to collect them in time and in the manner they preferred was proving more complicated than most starship maneuvers Picard had studied back at the Academy.
“Sir, if I may—” Riker looked over at the captain. “I’ll be happy to show Tirra to her room on your behalf. I can tell this has been a—difficult undertaking for you.”
Picard smiled. “Have I been that obvious?”
Over at the transporter controls, Lieutenant Kociemba made herself very busy looking at the console.
“Not too bad.” Riker grinned. “You never did tell me why the Enterprise was chosen, though.”
Picard let out a long sigh. “We were personally selected to serve as a ferry by Ambassador Troi.”
Riker’s eyes twinkled at the mention of Troi’s name. “Ah,” he said. “I see.”
Picard fidgeted with his collar again. Lwaxana Troi had made a compelling case for the Enterprise to be selected: while most of the 250 guests were being collected by Betazed ships, Lwaxana insisted that Starfleet should play a role. We want to incorporate as much of the Federation as we possibly can! she’d said over the comm. And what better way to incorporate Starfleet into the ceremony than utilizing its flagship to gather guests from all across the Federation?Apparently the gathering of guests was itself part of the ceremony, even if it meant sending the Enterprise on a rather elaborate detour for the past week.
He clearly couldn’t wait for the entire affair to be over, and it was showing.
“Madam zh’Undissa is ready to beam over,” Kociemba said, pulling Picard’s attention back to the present.
“Very well,” Picard said, dropping his hand to his side and straightening up his shoulders. “Go ahead.”
The transporter beam sparkled into existence. Tirra zh’Undissa stepped icily off the transporter pad, the embroidered hem of her gown trailing behind her. “So this is the Enterprise,” the Andorian commented, sweeping her gaze around the transporter room.
Five more, Picard thought, before stepping forward, hand extended. “It is, Madam zh’Undissa. Welcome aboard.”
Tirra’s antennae swiveled toward him a heartbeat before her eyes did. “And you must be the captain.” She appraised him for a moment, then held out one slender hand, gloved in white gauze. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Picard managed to press out a thin smile as he shook her hand. “It’s my great honor to have you aboard, Madam zh’Undissa,” he said, reciting the greeting he’d used on all of his guests. “Commander Will Riker will be showing you to your quarters.”
Riker beamed and said, “Welcome, Madam zh’Undissa.”
“Delighted,” Tirra said in a tone that didn’t seem delighted at all. “How long until we arrive on Betazed?”
“Two days.” Riker took hold of Tirra’s glittery suitcase.
“Wonderful. I was hoping to have some time to observe the effect warp speeds have on my choreography. I’m performing at the festival, you know. Two days will give me adequate time to prepare. Tell me”—she swept up beside Picard, her gown making a soft rustle like falling snow—“was a barre installed in my quarters, as requested?”
“It was indeed.” Picard gestured toward the exit, hoping to move Tirra along so he could get back to the bridge. She stepped lightly, her attire drifting around her. She glided out into the hallway as if she were performing at the Intergalactic Theater on Andoria.
Picard’s combadge pinged. “Bridge to Picard.”
Tirra looked at him archly.
“My apologies,” he said, tapping his combadge. “Picard. Go ahead.”
“Priority One hail, sir.”
“On my way.” Picard offered Tirra a rueful grin. “Alas, I am needed on the bridge. Number One, see that Madam zh’Undissa is settled in at her quarters. Madam”—he gave a little bow—“I hope your practice goes well.”
He was rewarded with a small smile for his efforts.
Riker stepped in smoothly, guiding Tirra down the hallway as Picard made his way to the bridge. The last few days had been a whirlwind, ever since the Enterprise was informed they had been selected to participate in the ceremony. Counselor Deanna Troi had explained the reason for the celebration—a lovely story about a Betazoid cultural hero named Xiomara, three ancient treasures that had never before been displayed together due to an archaic rift between the three Houses they belonged to, an entire platoon of capital-G Guests, and an immense amount of ceremony. Ceremonies within ceremonies, was how she’d put it. I don’t imagine it’s your sort of event.
He couldn’t deny that.
The turbolift deposited Picard on the bridge. “Mr. Data,” he said as Lieutenant Commander Data stood up from the center seat.
“It is the Federation high commissioner for refugees, sir,” Data said. “She wishes to talk to you about the scientific expedition on Kota. It seems—” His executive officer hesitated. “It seems there might be an issue with the planet’s suitability.”
“Merde,” Picard whispered. Kota had been at the top of the list as a new location for the group of refugees from the Federation colony on Aratril, which was about to be uninhabitable due to an impending asteroid strike. There was currently a massive operation underway to evacuate all of the colonists before the asteroid hit, involving dozens of ships.
Picard took a deep breath. “I’ll take it in my ready room.”
Data nodded and slid back down into the seat. Picard stepped off the bridge, the door whispering shut behind him. He found Commissioner Fortnoy waiting for him on the viewscreen.
“Captain Picard.” She smiled grimly. “I hope you’re well.”
“I am, Commissioner. I hear there’s an issue on Kota?”
“Yes. I’m not sure if you were aware of its status—”
“The team is in the final stages of confirming suitability,” Picard offered.
“The very last round of testing, yes.” Fortnoy’s expression was steely. “But I’m afraid there was a tragedy that occurred there yesterday. The latest expedition is set up near the shoreline, and they were hit with a dreadful thunderstorm. Unfortunately, the expedition’s commander was caught in a flash flood that swept across the lowland. She was killed, along with another member of the team.”
Picard closed his eyes at the news. Everything he’d heard about Kota had indicated it was a prime location for a colony—very little local fauna to disturb, perfect Class-M conditions. All of the previous expeditions had been textbook, from his understanding.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Picard said.
“Yes, we all are.” Fortnoy leaned forward. “However, we must press on. The Aratril refugees need a home, and right now Kota is our best option.”
“I agree,” Picard said.
“I know you’re in the midst of transporting guests for the Betazed ceremony,” Fortnoy continued, “but the Kota team needs personnel, and you are the closest ship. Kota is so remote. Would it be possible for you to send an away team to help finalize the survey?”
“Of course.”
Fortnoy let out a long, relieved sigh. “Oh, thank you, Captain.”
Picard nodded. “I’ll ask Commander Riker to assemble a team.”
“Wonderful.” Fortnoy pressed a hand to her chest. “You are truly a lifesaver, Jean-Luc. Especially for those refugees.”
Picard smiled, but inwardly he felt a tight knot of anxiety. It was yet one more stop on their slow march toward Betazed.
2
Kota glimmered against the inky backdrop of open space, small patches of land surrounded by a rich, jeweled purple. From up here, Doctor Beverly Crusher could see a white knot of storm clouds near the planet’s equator, roiling in a slow leftward spin, and wondered if those were the storms that had led to the commander’s death.
“We’ll get you ready for those refugees,” she murmured to herself before turning away from the viewport to collect her medkit. Commander Riker had been surprised when she asked if she could join his team for the mission—he’d already selected Ensign Josefina Rikkilä, a lab tech with field medic training, as there was no need for a doctor down on Kota.
But this week had not been an easy one for Crusher. Things were finally starting to quiet down after the Enterprise saw the birth of not one but three babies, including an Aurelian, whose births were notoriously dangerous to both mother and child. That was after there’d been a bout of Tanzian flu making its way through a security team. Plus, it felt like half the crew had their routine checkups scheduled at once.
With the slowdown, she thought a working shore leave would suit her. She’d been on a few missions similar to the Kota one when she first joined Starfleet, and she’d always liked fieldwork: the quiet, meditative quality of watching microscopic life wriggling in magnification, the satisfaction of running a hundred atmosphere tests and every single one coming back clean.
She could use some meditation after all the excitement. And knowing she was helping the Aratril refugees made the prospect that much more appealing.
So she’d sought out Riker and asked if she could join.
Riker had laughed. “It’s going to be tedious, Doctor.”
“Tedious will be welcome after the week I had.” She’d flashed him a bright smile. “An Aurelian birth calls for it. And since the Enterprise will be in orbit around Betazed, sickbay will be covered if there is an emergency.”
“You don’t want to go to the ceremony?” Riker’s eyes twinkled. “I hear it lasts twenty-four hours and several traditional dances are involved.”
“I think I can skip it.”
And so it’d been decided. Crusher would get a chance to spend some time on a Federation science station, running through planetary samples. Besides, Riker also mentioned there was a beach.
The doctor made her way to the transporter room. Commander Riker was already there with Data and Ensign Amir Muñoz, a promising young science officer from Earth who had written a very well-received paper on xenobotany in the Uskati system.
“Doctor.” Data turned toward her as she stepped into the room. “Commander Riker said you would be joining us. I am… surprised.”
“Really, Data?” Crusher smiled up at him. “I’m just looking forward to doing some good old-fashioned lab work.”
“Yes,” Data said. “As am I.”
Crusher turned toward Muñoz to greet him just as Ensign Rikkilä came barreling through the transporter room doors, her blond ponytail swinging behind her. “Wait—please don’t leave without me!” she cried, then immediately turned red and stumbled to a stop. “I’m sorry, Commanders.” She straightened up her spine and hugged her tricorder to her chest. “I was delayed, and this is my first away mission—” She flicked her gaze over to Data, then Crusher, who got a crooked smile, which the doctor returned. Rikkilä wasn’t always the most professional officer, but she certainly made up for it with an abundance of enthusiasm.
“Ensign Rikkilä,” said Riker. “You’re just in time.” He stepped up to the transporter platform and the others followed. “Energize.”
Beverly Crusher felt the wind first, blustery and damp. The Kotan landscape rolled out in front of her, an endless blanket of pale, silvery grass that bent sideways as the wind swept over the blades. The air smelled faintly sweet, as if flowers were blooming somewhere she couldn’t see.
The doctor turned around to find a Federation science station several meters away, a compact complex of two biomass buildings that weren’t so much assembled as grown. The seeds were planted around a generator with an installed computer core. When the survey was completed, the mission commander would give a self-destruct command to the computer, which would trigger an injection of an anisotropic designed to shrivel up the biomass into lightweight, three-meter-wide husks that could easily be transported offworld. The Federation took care to leave a planet just as they had found it, regardless if it was approved for settlement.
“This place is amazing,” breathed Rikkilä. She whipped out her tricorder and scanned the open prairie behind them.
“Welcome to Kota!” boomed out a loud voice, and Crusher looked to find a towering Starfleet science officer strolling toward them. “Thank the stars that you’re here. The last few days have been a nightmare.” He paused, then said, “I’m Lieutenant Cecil Solanko, in charge of lab testing.”
He was enormous for a human, with a barrel chest and wide, meaty arms. Solanko looked like he should be leading security teams in hand-to-hand combat. Which was rather unfair, Crusher chided herself.
“We’re glad to help out,” Commander Riker said, and he made the introductions.
Solanko nodded in turn. “You’re all going to be lifesavers,” he said. “Let’s get you settled in and I’ll show you around.” He swept his arm toward the station and led the group forward.
“I’m so nervous,” whispered Rikkilä. She was talking to Muñoz, the two of them trailing behind Crusher. “This is my first away mission, and I don’t normally get sent out for fieldwork.” She paused. “How about you?”
“I’ve been on a couple,” Muñoz said. “The last one I got called on was to help identify a plant species on Hid—something was choking out the native plant life on the planet.”
“Oh,” Rikkilä said. “I remember hearing about that.”
“Yeah, I was in the lab station the whole time, reviewing plant samples. I think that’s why I got picked for this mission.”
“There’s tons of flora on Kota,” Rikkilä said. “And hardly any fauna.”
“Exactly. Just some microscopic ocean life.”
The doctor picked up her pace to give them some privacy. She fell in between Riker and Data.
“The lieutenant is… quite formidable,” Data remarked.
Riker chuckled. “Good thing he’s on our side, eh? I’d hate to meet him in some Orion back alley.”
“That is not what I meant,” Data said. “I was referring to the fact that Lieutenant Solanko is an authority on geochronology.”
Now it was Crusher’s turn to laugh as Riker’s cheeks pinked. “I did not know that,” he admitted.
“Yes. I have read all his work. I look forward to working with him during our time on Kota.” Data paused. “It is my hope we will be able to discuss the geologic history of the Nilko system at some point.”
“I’m sure you will,” Crusher said. “Once we’ve cleared the backlog and finished the survey.”
Data gave her that placid almost-smile he offered whenever something pleased him.
They arrived at the entrance of the station. Solanko ducked in through the low open door and led them into a sitting room decorated with bland biomass furniture. “This is the common building,” he said. “We take our meals in here, and the sleeping quarters are just down that hallway.” He pointed to another low-slung doorway in the back corner of the room. “One big space for all of us, unfortunately. The laboratories are in the second building. You get to them through the hallway. Opposite direction of the sleeping quarters. The rest of the team is back there now.”
“Two others on the team,” Riker said.
A dark expression flickered across Solanko’s face, his massive shoulders slumping. “Yes. After the loss of our commander and one of our best lieutenants…” His voice trailed off. “Let me say again that I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s our honor to help,” Riker said.
“C’mon,” Solanko said. “Let me show you to your quarters. Then I’ll get you up to speed.”
3
“What do you think of Betazed, Ms. Trigg?” Commander Deanna Troi plastered on the brightest smile she could manage. “It’s my understanding you’ve never been here before.”
Adora Trigg gazed out across the lawn of Isszon Temple, anxiety rolling off of her, all of her other emotions tight and shut off. “It’s lovely,” she said in a stiff voice, pulling on the strap of her overnight bag. “Is this where the ceremony is to be held?”
The word ceremony sent a new quake of fear radiating out of her, and Troi felt a surge of empathy. Adora Trigg rarely did public appearances. It really was special that she had agreed to the Betazed government’s request to attend as a Poetry Guest.
“Partially,” Troi said, guiding her forward onto the gently curving pathways that cut elegant, geometric shapes into the brilliant green of the lawn. “The opening ceremonies will take place on the lawn, as will the Iren Cotillion. But most of the ceremony will be inside the temple.” She gestured toward the gleaming building, its stone walls shining in the warm sunlight.
“Aarno Roque wrote a holonovel set there, didn’t he?” Trigg’s anxiety seemed to disperse with the change of subject. “I experienced it years ago. I’ll never forget the rendering of that temple.”
Troi smiled—more genuinely this time. Adora Trigg was the fifth and final of the High Guests she had “volunteered” to bring down from the Enterprise, as a favor to Captain Picard. But the effort of easing their worries, appeasing their egos, and introducing them to their liaisons had been draining. The reminder of having loved Aarno Roque’s holonovels since she was a teenager brought some unexpected joy.
“Yes,” she said. “The Hidden Bones. One of my favorites.”
“That’s the one.” Trigg nodded. The path led them into the sun garden, the blossoms bright and redolent this time of year. “I always liked his historical pieces the best. Such brilliant attention to detail.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Troi said. “Although I have to admit the heist plot was what drew me into Hidden Bones.”
Trigg laughed. “Yes, when Narendra has to fight off the Taschan pirates—I always had so much fun with that. What was your weapon of choice? The sword or the axe?”
“The sword,” Troi responded promptly, pleased that Adora’s uneasiness had almost entirely melted away. They wove through the sun garden, moving closer to the temple entrance. It was festooned with fluttering silk banners and a holographic display of the centerpiece of the weekend’s ceremony: the three treasures of Xiomara. In seven hours, the real treasures would be brought out by their respective Houses, displayed side by side for the first time in nearly five hundred years. The First House had, rather notoriously, misplaced their treasure, the Hallowed Urn,
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