Encounter at Farpoint pt. 1
9adam4
The Federation should not be Lawful Stupid
Captain's log, stardate 41153.7. Our destination is planet Deneb Four, beyond which lies the great unexplored mass of the galaxy. My orders are to examine Farpoint, a starbase built there by the inhabitants of that world. Meanwhile, I am becoming better acquainted with my new command, this Galaxy Class USS Enterprise. I am still somewhat in awe of its size and complexity. As for my crew, we are short in several key positions, most notably a first officer, but I am informed that a highly experienced man, one Commander William Riker, will be waiting to join our ship at our Deneb Four destination.
Lt. Commander Soriana Turhal smiled at the young ensign from engineering as he finished the installation. The translucent structure reached from level of the bridge chair's seat nearly to the tip of its back, mounted on a small swivel so that it could be pulled into her lap as she sat. Soriana did just that, noting that she could easily see around it to focus on the viewscreen, or gaze into its shimmering depths without having to hunch over.
When Soriana looked up again, she met the odd golden-yellow eyes of the officer at ops, who tilted his head slightly as his attention flickered between her and the fixture.
"Lieutenant Command-"
"Soriana, please," she interrupted.
"Certainly, Soriana," Data adjusted immediately. "Decorations are not typically permitted in the primary work areas. Does this structure serve a practical purpose?"
The woman nodded. "It's a canar crystal. A Haliian telepathic enhancer."
"I will admit, MIster Turhal, that I was taken back by the request," Captain Picard shared. "I have worked with Haliian officers before, and they used their telepathic abilities without any such aid."
"I'm not surprised, sir" Soriana nodded. "They're mostly used in private for intense or delicate mental work, and aren't really needed to sense nearby minds and emotions. But one of their effects is to greatly increase my receptive empathic range.”
“Ah, something you may need when we’re conducting conversations with nearby ships,” the captain nodded.
“Or when I need to try get a broader sense of what people are feeling. Haliians are much weaker empaths than Deltans or Betazoids.”
“It’s good to know you took it to heart when I told you I was relying on you as a diplomatic advisor, as well as being the Ship’s Counselor and Ethics Officer,” Picard smiled.
“Considering the sort of missions we’re expected to take on,” Soriana agreed, “I suspect we’ll all be exerting our skills to the utmost.”
“Like these first set of orders from Starfleet. A difficult task for a shakedown cruise, wouldn’t you agree, Mister Data?”
“Difficult?” Data disagreed. “Simply solve the mystery of Farpoint Station.”
“As simple as that,” the captain mused wryly. “It’s hardly simple, Data, to negotiate a friendly agreement for Starfleet to use the base while a the same time snoop around…”
Soriana listened with amusement at the exchange between Captain Picard and his second officer, but she soon found herself unable to focus on the words. Something else… something she’d not sensed before. An awareness within the ship, but not one of the crew. She brought her canar crystal in front of her, and focused on the feeling.
The sensation was overwhelming: a powerful, willful intelligence, sending out thoughts that implied awareness of much of the crew all at once. There was a casual menace to it… a curiosity accompanied by no concern for its subjects.
Soriana took a deep breath, but before she could speak, Rene Torres announced from the helm, “Something strange on the detector circuits.” What appeared on the viewscreen looked like nothing so much as a chain link fence of energy.
“Captain,” Soriana pushed, realizing this needed to be said immediately, “Trelane Protocol, sir.”
Picard jerked his attention to his third officer, his mind at once recalling the training that Starfleet had long ago created for such an eventuality. “A powerful alien? Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Full stop. Yellow Alert,” the captain ordered, activating the control on his chair. “This is the Captain to all hands. We are under Trelane Protocol. I repeat, Trelane Protocol. Do not draw a weapon on any being appearing on the ship unless directly attacked. Non-essential personnel should return to their quarters. Cease all work unless ship-critical. Report all anomalous events to ops. Picard out.”
“Now reading full stop, sir,” Torres confirmed.
The flash of light and loud rasping accompanied the appearance of the oddly-dressed man behind the tactical station on the bridge. It was hard not to think of Trelane’s Napoleonic outfit when seeing this human dressed in Elizabethan armor and colors. “Thou are notified that thy kind hath infiltrated the galaxy too far already,” the man began. “Thou art directed to return to thine own solar system immediately. “
Picard and Turhal moved together, each slowly approaching the figure as Picard addressed him. “That’s quite a directive. Would you mind identifying who you are?” As he spoke, the captain made eye contact with his security officers and helmsman, shaking his head to remind them not to draw weapons on the intruder.
“We call ourselves the Q. Or thou mayst call me that,” the man declared. “It's all much the same thing. I present myself to thee as a fellow ship captain, that thou mayst better understand me. Go back whence thou camest.”
“Go back to where, exactly?” Picard asked. “What precisely are you demanding of us?”
“To Earth!” he exclaimed. “The wretched birthplace of thy brutal, savage race.” He smirked, “Thy little centuries progress so rapidly… perhaps thou wilt better understand this…”
In a flash of light and sound, Q’s human form assumed a new costume: that of a Twentieth Century US army general. “Actually, the issue at stake is patriotism. You must return to your world and put an end to the commies. All it takes is a few good men.”
“I have a question,” Soriana Turhal spoke up, her expression one of polite confusion. At Picard’s nod, she continued. “If the humans return to Earth, may the rest of us proceed?”
Q bit into his cigar. “What do you mean?”
“This is a Federation vessel, representing the planetary governments of over three hundred sapient races. Humans are just one of them. I’m Haliian, from a system several dozen light years from -”
“I know who you are,” Q spat.
“Then perhaps you’re aware that the Enterprise’s crew complement includes over sixty non-human species. Haliian, Vulcan, Klingon, Adorian, Tellarite,” Soriana gestured to Data. “The second officer here is an android built on Omicron Theta; I presume he doesn’t need to return to Earth.” She didn’t really make it a question.
In another flash, Q shed his anachronistic uniform for a modern one: starfleet, in command red, with admiral’s bars on the collar. He strutted, circling Soriana as she stood her ground next to the captain. “A lawyer, eh? Aren’t ship’s counsellors supposed to stick to emotions and psychobabble?”
She woman glanced to Picard and got a nod before proceeding. “I’m also the ship’s Ethics Officer, and, yes,” Soriana nodded, “commissioned under Starfleet’s judge advocate general for legal matters. Senior officers on exploratory vessels take on many roles.”
“You have no idea how little I care about the mundane details of your insignificant career,” Q sneered.
“Typical,” Picard said. “A so-called ‘superior’ life form claiming to be above us, but taking it upon himself to judge matters that he admits he cares little about. No interest in learning, but ready to prosecute anything he doesn’t understand.”
“Judge? Prosecute?” Q perked up. “Yes, a judgement is exactly what is in order here. Humanity has cut a bloody swath across its history. Nothing has changed except the weapons and the uniforms.”
“Humanity is a founding member of a peaceful union with hundreds of other species, as Soriana just reminded you,” Picard smiled. “I’ll stand by the record of the Federation of Planets. We’ve no fear of what the true facts about us will reveal.”
Q smirked, menacingly. “Facts about you? Splendid, splendid, Captain! You're a veritable fountain of good ideas. There are preparations to make, but when we next meet, Captain, we'll proceed exactly as you suggest.” And with another flash, the man was gone.
Lt. Commander Soriana Turhal smiled at the young ensign from engineering as he finished the installation. The translucent structure reached from level of the bridge chair's seat nearly to the tip of its back, mounted on a small swivel so that it could be pulled into her lap as she sat. Soriana did just that, noting that she could easily see around it to focus on the viewscreen, or gaze into its shimmering depths without having to hunch over.
When Soriana looked up again, she met the odd golden-yellow eyes of the officer at ops, who tilted his head slightly as his attention flickered between her and the fixture.
"Lieutenant Command-"
"Soriana, please," she interrupted.
"Certainly, Soriana," Data adjusted immediately. "Decorations are not typically permitted in the primary work areas. Does this structure serve a practical purpose?"
The woman nodded. "It's a canar crystal. A Haliian telepathic enhancer."
"I will admit, MIster Turhal, that I was taken back by the request," Captain Picard shared. "I have worked with Haliian officers before, and they used their telepathic abilities without any such aid."
"I'm not surprised, sir" Soriana nodded. "They're mostly used in private for intense or delicate mental work, and aren't really needed to sense nearby minds and emotions. But one of their effects is to greatly increase my receptive empathic range.”
“Ah, something you may need when we’re conducting conversations with nearby ships,” the captain nodded.
“Or when I need to try get a broader sense of what people are feeling. Haliians are much weaker empaths than Deltans or Betazoids.”
“It’s good to know you took it to heart when I told you I was relying on you as a diplomatic advisor, as well as being the Ship’s Counselor and Ethics Officer,” Picard smiled.
“Considering the sort of missions we’re expected to take on,” Soriana agreed, “I suspect we’ll all be exerting our skills to the utmost.”
“Like these first set of orders from Starfleet. A difficult task for a shakedown cruise, wouldn’t you agree, Mister Data?”
“Difficult?” Data disagreed. “Simply solve the mystery of Farpoint Station.”
“As simple as that,” the captain mused wryly. “It’s hardly simple, Data, to negotiate a friendly agreement for Starfleet to use the base while a the same time snoop around…”
Soriana listened with amusement at the exchange between Captain Picard and his second officer, but she soon found herself unable to focus on the words. Something else… something she’d not sensed before. An awareness within the ship, but not one of the crew. She brought her canar crystal in front of her, and focused on the feeling.
The sensation was overwhelming: a powerful, willful intelligence, sending out thoughts that implied awareness of much of the crew all at once. There was a casual menace to it… a curiosity accompanied by no concern for its subjects.
Soriana took a deep breath, but before she could speak, Rene Torres announced from the helm, “Something strange on the detector circuits.” What appeared on the viewscreen looked like nothing so much as a chain link fence of energy.
“Captain,” Soriana pushed, realizing this needed to be said immediately, “Trelane Protocol, sir.”
Picard jerked his attention to his third officer, his mind at once recalling the training that Starfleet had long ago created for such an eventuality. “A powerful alien? Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“Full stop. Yellow Alert,” the captain ordered, activating the control on his chair. “This is the Captain to all hands. We are under Trelane Protocol. I repeat, Trelane Protocol. Do not draw a weapon on any being appearing on the ship unless directly attacked. Non-essential personnel should return to their quarters. Cease all work unless ship-critical. Report all anomalous events to ops. Picard out.”
“Now reading full stop, sir,” Torres confirmed.
The flash of light and loud rasping accompanied the appearance of the oddly-dressed man behind the tactical station on the bridge. It was hard not to think of Trelane’s Napoleonic outfit when seeing this human dressed in Elizabethan armor and colors. “Thou are notified that thy kind hath infiltrated the galaxy too far already,” the man began. “Thou art directed to return to thine own solar system immediately. “
Picard and Turhal moved together, each slowly approaching the figure as Picard addressed him. “That’s quite a directive. Would you mind identifying who you are?” As he spoke, the captain made eye contact with his security officers and helmsman, shaking his head to remind them not to draw weapons on the intruder.
“We call ourselves the Q. Or thou mayst call me that,” the man declared. “It's all much the same thing. I present myself to thee as a fellow ship captain, that thou mayst better understand me. Go back whence thou camest.”
“Go back to where, exactly?” Picard asked. “What precisely are you demanding of us?”
“To Earth!” he exclaimed. “The wretched birthplace of thy brutal, savage race.” He smirked, “Thy little centuries progress so rapidly… perhaps thou wilt better understand this…”
In a flash of light and sound, Q’s human form assumed a new costume: that of a Twentieth Century US army general. “Actually, the issue at stake is patriotism. You must return to your world and put an end to the commies. All it takes is a few good men.”
“I have a question,” Soriana Turhal spoke up, her expression one of polite confusion. At Picard’s nod, she continued. “If the humans return to Earth, may the rest of us proceed?”
Q bit into his cigar. “What do you mean?”
“This is a Federation vessel, representing the planetary governments of over three hundred sapient races. Humans are just one of them. I’m Haliian, from a system several dozen light years from -”
“I know who you are,” Q spat.
“Then perhaps you’re aware that the Enterprise’s crew complement includes over sixty non-human species. Haliian, Vulcan, Klingon, Adorian, Tellarite,” Soriana gestured to Data. “The second officer here is an android built on Omicron Theta; I presume he doesn’t need to return to Earth.” She didn’t really make it a question.
In another flash, Q shed his anachronistic uniform for a modern one: starfleet, in command red, with admiral’s bars on the collar. He strutted, circling Soriana as she stood her ground next to the captain. “A lawyer, eh? Aren’t ship’s counsellors supposed to stick to emotions and psychobabble?”
She woman glanced to Picard and got a nod before proceeding. “I’m also the ship’s Ethics Officer, and, yes,” Soriana nodded, “commissioned under Starfleet’s judge advocate general for legal matters. Senior officers on exploratory vessels take on many roles.”
“You have no idea how little I care about the mundane details of your insignificant career,” Q sneered.
“Typical,” Picard said. “A so-called ‘superior’ life form claiming to be above us, but taking it upon himself to judge matters that he admits he cares little about. No interest in learning, but ready to prosecute anything he doesn’t understand.”
“Judge? Prosecute?” Q perked up. “Yes, a judgement is exactly what is in order here. Humanity has cut a bloody swath across its history. Nothing has changed except the weapons and the uniforms.”
“Humanity is a founding member of a peaceful union with hundreds of other species, as Soriana just reminded you,” Picard smiled. “I’ll stand by the record of the Federation of Planets. We’ve no fear of what the true facts about us will reveal.”
Q smirked, menacingly. “Facts about you? Splendid, splendid, Captain! You're a veritable fountain of good ideas. There are preparations to make, but when we next meet, Captain, we'll proceed exactly as you suggest.” And with another flash, the man was gone.
