Sralanya
2386
“For the safety and security of all our people, we are forced to answer these unprovoked actions against our planet. We cannot tolerate interlopers or invaders from other worlds, including yours.”
The video was grainy, shifting and jumping almost with every word, and the three figures displayed on the wall-mounted monitor were blurry and indistinct, but Picard had little doubt that he was looking at a trio of humans. A male and a female positioned side by side in high-backed seats within the cramped confines of what could be a spacecraft’s cockpit. Behind them was a third, a male situated at a ninety-degree angle from his companions. The restricted space was packed with consoles and other instruments, and Picard could only speculate as to their functions. As for the people, all three wore a form of pressure or space suit, though the image’s poor quality left Picard room for doubt. Still, there was something familiar about the clothing. He recalled what he knew of manned space missions from Earth’s late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries and decided the suits worn by these individuals could be similar.
None of that helped him begin to make sense of what he was seeing.
“These people actually piloted your ship here from Earth?” Picard asked the question while keeping his attention fixed on the monitor. The image on it had been paused, offering him only a slightly less distorted look at the three people. They were human, he decided, or at least humanoid.
What the hell is this about?
“You heard the message for yourself, Captain,” said Presider Hilonu, who had stood in silence as Picard watched the video and listened to the broadcast, which had been delivered in several Earth languages. “There also was a version rendered in the primary language of my people and the native tongue of the crew who originally piloted the craft. There were some deviations and gaps in the message, likely owing to the primitive nature of the translation method, but the meaning was quite clear, as was their origin, Captain.” Hilonu indicated the monitor with one hand. “They were human, just like you.”
Unable to tear his eyes from the screen, Picard asked, “How old is this footage?”
“It has existed since well before my birth, Captain, as well as that of my parents, their parents, and their parents before them. According to our historical records and based on our ability to translate how we compute the passage of time compared to your own units of measure, the ship returned to Sralanya approximately three hundred and twenty of your years ago.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Picard finally forced himself to turn from the monitor so that he could face the Eizand leader. “Presider Hilonu, I promise you that I have no idea what this is about or how this possibly could have happened. Three hundred and twenty years ago, my people were standing on the verge of a devastating conflict that would decimate significant portions of our planet. Hundreds of millions of people would die in that war, and our civilization would approach the brink of collapse. Only through an unlikely act of extraordinary courage and no small amount of luck were we handed a lifeline, which we used to pull ourselves back from that precipice. Our ability to travel beyond the confines of our own solar system was in its infancy, and would not improve until years after we learned that life truly did exist on worlds other than our own. At that time, we simply did not possess the means or technology to travel from my planet to yours.”
Naturally, Picard chose not to mention that he had seen the aftereffects of the Third World War and the damage to the planet of his birth with his own eyes, thanks to the Enterprise’s being forced to follow a Borg sphere back through time after an attack on Earth more than a decade ago. That incident had resulted in the starship emerging from a temporal rift in the mid-twenty-first century, nearly ten years after the end of the global conflict that had brought humankind to its knees, and only hours before the legendary Zefram Cochrane made his historic first warp-powered space flight. Preventing that achievement would have ensured Earth’s isolation from the rest of the galaxy, rather than prompting the initial formal meeting between humans and Vulcans in 2063 and ushering in a new age of technological advancement and cultural enlightenment. Instead, the Borg would have assimilated the entire planet and its war-weary population, forever consigning them to the living death—and hell—that was assimilation into the Borg Collective. It had fallen to Picard and his crew to secure humanity’s future, and its destiny.
And that only served to sharpen the Borg’s attention on us, didn’t it?
Pushing away the unwelcome thoughts lest he become trapped within them, Picard turned back to the monitor. “Presider, if your people did visit my world, then this evidence suggests that human crew was somehow able to acquire an understanding of your technology in order to make the journey. What I don’t understand is how they managed such a feat or what would compel them to do so in the first place.” Realizing an important point he was overlooking, he asked, “And what about your people? The ship’s original crew? What happened to them?”
Her hands clasped before her, Hilonu replied, “From what the human pilots told the authorities after they were taken into custody, the ship’s original complement was captured by military forces on your world. They were subjected to interrogation, scientific study, and even torture as their captors attempted to learn everything possible about them and our planet. Your ancestors were apparently quite paranoid about invasion by another spacefaring race, Captain.”
On this point, Picard could not argue. “There was a time when my people were gripped by a number of irrational fears, Presider, and it was because of such fear that we nearly destroyed ourselves.” He gestured to where Lieutenant T’Sona stood near the office’s row of windows, silent and vigilant with her hands clasped behind her back. “If not for the Vulcans, humanity might very well have extinguished itself centuries ago.”
Glancing away from Picard to T’Sona, Hilonu said, “Lieutenant, do you have any thoughts on this matter?”
“Captain Picard speaks the truth, Presider,” replied the security officer. “My people had been observing Earth for many years prior to establishing formal contact and relations. We witnessed the war that ravaged their world, and nearly annihilated their entire civilization.”
“You observed all of this and did nothing?” asked Hilonu. “I do not understand.”
T’Sona said, “At the time, Vulcans conducting such survey missions were required to avoid all contact with the observed planet or its people, and were strictly prohibited from interfering in their culture or affairs in any way. It is a policy that has carried forward to this day, and which Earth and other civilizations agreed to uphold when we came together to form the United Federation of Planets. Starfleet officers in particular swear an oath never to violate this order.”
“We call it our Prime Directive, Presider,” added Picard. “It’s a law that we take very seriously and strive always to uphold.” He sighed. “To be perfectly honest with you, there have been times when I’ve been tempted to violate that directive, or been forced to stand by and observe what I thought might have been a preventable tragedy from unfolding. There also have been times when I have indeed disobeyed the order, because I felt a particular situation was not in keeping with the directive’s intentions. It is a noble concept, but flawed. However, it is far more preferable than willfully infringing upon another world’s sovereignty while in pursuit of our own agenda.”
For the first time since revealing the video footage, Hilonu offered a small smile. “I sense a strength of character in you, Captain; an integrity I can admire. As a leader of my people, I have learned to trust my instincts, which tell me you are a person of principle. You are, so far as I can tell, a worthy representative of your Federation.” Stepping away from him, she returned to the wall screen and reached for the small control pad mounted next to the screen. “Would that your example was one followed by more of your people, or that this ‘Prime Directive’ was a law your civilization chose to adopt far earlier.” She waved one hand toward the screen. “Instead, your ancestors chose to impose their will upon us through force of arms.”
“Are you saying that they attacked you?” Picard had to force the words from his mouth, contemplating even as he spoke them aloud the horrific potential they described.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Hilonu nodded. “Yes. It was a carefully orchestrated assault, focusing on a handful of our most prominent cities across our planet. The Tevent Coalition and each of the other major political powers were targeted for orbital bombardment with powerful mass-destruction weapons. Within moments, those cities lay in ruin and millions of our people were dead, but as terrible as that attack was, it was what came afterward that truly wounded our world. However, it was our own shortsightedness that was to blame for what happened next, as several of our nations had long ago entrusted our security against one another to automation. In the face of attack from an undefined enemy, those systems reacted as they had been instructed to do.”
It took Picard a moment to realize what the presider meant. When realization dawned, he felt his jaw slacken in disbelief. “No.”
“Automated attack response systems,” said T’Sona. “It is not an uncommon scenario. In the event of a mass-casualty attack by a major power, the targeted party would have procedures to initiate preprogrammed counterattacks as an immediate response. Such protocols were designed to be initiated in the absence of anyone to rescind any existing default instructions, thereby ensuring a response to any sort of large-scale offensive. These scenarios often resulted in widespread destruction to both sides of the given conflict. The very idea of an exchange on that level possibly taking place was usually more than sufficient to compel any governments who might be party to such an occurrence to do everything in their power to ensure it never happened.”
Picard said, “The term was ‘mutually assured destruction,’ Lieutenant.” In his youth, he had read reports and other historical records accumulated from other worlds thanks to nearly two centuries of deep-space exploration and encounters with various alien species. Later, as a Starfleet officer, he had seen firsthand the aftermath of such insanity. At the forefront of all those terrifying examples was Earth itself, which nearly crumbled beneath the weight of this very folly as the planet was thrust into the horrors of its third and final global war.
“The term seems most applicable in our case, Captain,” said Hilonu. “With communications fragmented in the wake of the initial orbital attacks, there were few if any government or military officials in a position to revoke the automated retaliation procedures. Numerous missiles, each equipped with nuclear warheads, were launched by each of the surviving major powers. Science and technological advancement had seen to it that the radiation produced by these weapons was minimal. That is the only reason there were any survivors left to attempt rebuilding our society, and why I stand before you today. However, those advances also ensured that the missiles’ destructive capability was unparalleled. The devastation was massive, with casualties climbing into the hundreds of millions within a single day. Even now, generations removed from the conflict, we still do not know for sure how many Eizand were lost.”
Picard, feeling unsteady as he listened to the presider recount her people’s calamitous history, forced himself to remain silent and still and ignored the sudden dryness in his throat. Hearing this recitation of destruction and death was becoming too difficult to bear.
Imagine having to live through it.
“What happened after that?” he asked.
Her expression flat and unreadable as she stepped away from the wall monitor and toward her desk, Hilonu replied, “I imagine the events that transpired are not that dissimilar to the aftermath of other such wars you may have witnessed or studied, Captain. Those nations that still possessed functioning military forces, the Tevent Coalition included, seized whatever opportunities presented themselves. Clashes erupted across the planet as armies moved to secure footholds in enemy territory. Border expansion and resource hoarding drove a number of low-intensity conflicts in the years immediately following the global war.” Once more the presider indicated the paused image on the viewscreen. “Our history and our legacy is one of strife and suffering, thanks to the events of one single dark day.”
We cannot tolerate interlopers or invaders from other worlds, including yours.
Recalling the ominous last words of the recorded message, Picard stared at the frozen, grainy image of the three humans. Who were they? Under what authority had they come to be here and for what purpose? Attack? The very idea seemed ill-considered at best and ludicrous at worst. A single vessel, even one obtained from the Eizand or some other spacefaring race and armed with nuclear weapons, was still just one ship against an entire planet. While it might inflict some damage to its target, the odds were still in the world’s favor, and that was before taking into account any sort of space-based defenses the Eizand had harbored back when this was supposed to have occurred.
There’s more to this story. There has to be.
“What about the ship?” asked T’Sona. “Assuming it actually made it to Earth, it would fall to twentieth- or twenty-first-century human scientists and engineers to study it to the extent that its technology could be understood and employed. Was it armed with weapons capable of initiating the assault you describe?”
Hilonu shook her head. “No. We have armed some vessels dispatched for deep-space exploration missions, but the ships that were part of that original initiative were not so equipped. The weapons it brought to our world were not of our making, Lieutenant.” She turned her gaze to Picard, and when she spoke again her voice took on a harder edge. “Once we captured the ship and its crew, our military interrogators quickly determined that the pilots and the weapons they carried came from your world, Captain.”
It was not an accusation, Picard realized. The words were spoken without hesitation or doubt, but instead as a statement of unequivocal fact. They gave voice to a truth known to Hilonu all through her life and carried by those who had come before her. Whatever narrative had formed over the course of the generations born into the future set into motion on that terrible day was entrenched, as much in the presider’s own mind as it likely was for a great many of the Eizand people. Perhaps they all held similar views, which meant many of them almost certainly harbored at least something approaching an innate resentment toward anyone who might evoke memories or knowledge of the tragic events that had shaped their civilization.
No wonder she looks at you the way she does. Despite her best efforts to remain civil, she likely can’t stand the sight of you. You’re the face of the people who tried to destroy her world.
“Presider,” said Picard, “I hope you can believe me when I tell you I have no knowledge of these events, how they came to be, or who might be responsible. However, you have my solemn word that I will do everything I can to learn the truth of what happened here.”
Again, the Eizand leader offered a small, almost humble smile. Casting a glance toward the top of her desk, she reached for a keypad set into its surface and pressed a recessed green control that emitted a sharp tone.
“I sense that you are a good person, Captain; a decent person. However, that does not change what I must now do.”
Behind him, Picard heard the door leading from Hilonu’s office opening, and he shifted his stance to look in that direction. He was in time to see a trio of Eizand entering the room, each dressed in the dark maroon uniforms he now recognized as denoting members of the presider’s security detail. All three officers—two males and a female—were brandishing the sidearms normally worn on their hips, and the male leading the group was aiming his weapon at Picard.
“Captain.”
T’Sona’s voice was sharp and commanding despite her normal Vulcan composure. Moving in immediate reaction to the apparent threat, the lieutenant lunged toward the closest Eizand guard, who saw her approach but was not fast enough to defend against it. Her left hand closed around the guard’s right wrist, arresting the movement of his pistol before it could be aimed at her. At the same time, her right hand clamped down upon the juncture of the Eizand’s neck and shoulder and Picard saw the guard’s body go limp as he succumbed to the nerve pinch. Allowing the body to fall to the office’s carpeted floor, T’Sona stepped away from the unconscious guard and reached for her own phaser just as the other two Eizand officers were turning in response to her actions.
“Lieutenant! No!”
The warning came too late as the Vulcan drew her phaser from its holder on her hip and raised the weapon toward the guards. This time, the Eizand were faster, firing their own pistols at her before she could even take aim. Picard flinched at the metallic snap that filled the room, and he was sure he felt displaced air washing over him as the weapons unleashed their charges. Both pistols spat forth hellish blobs of red-white energy that struck T’Sona in the chest and hip. The force of the salvos was enough to push the lieutenant off her feet and thrust her backward into the nearby wall. She struck the flat, unyielding surface with a sickly thud and Picard saw her eyes widen in apparent surprise. Falling from her hand, her phaser dropped to the floor as her body followed suit, crumpling into a heap against the wall before T’Sona pitched forward and landed face-first on the room’s thick carpet.
“Cease fire!” shouted Hilonu, her words barely audible over the echo of the weapons’ reports.
Ignoring her and the guards, Picard rushed to where T’Sona lay unmoving on the carpet. He reached her even as he sensed the two security officers closing on him, but he paid them no mind as he rolled the Vulcan onto her back. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld the ghastly burns and wounds that marred the front of the lieutenant’s uniform, including the ripped and scorched flesh beneath the clothing. He did not need to look at her open, unseeing eyes to confirm that she was dead.
Anger welling up within him, Picard pushed himself to his feet, pivoting around until he locked gazes with Hilonu and leveled an accusatory finger. “Was that truly necessary? She only disabled your guard. He’ll recover, but she was defending me, as her duty compelled her to do.” He forced himself to remain still, offering no resistance as the remaining male guard and his female companion moved so that they now flanked him. The male, standing on Picard’s left, reached with his free hand to snatch the captain’s communicator badge from his chest. Picard allowed himself only an instant of regret as he considered the lifeline the combadge represented, connecting him to the Enterprise.
“My guards were also protecting me, Captain,” replied Hilonu, “and they are authorized to use deadly force to do so.”
Movement to his right made Picard look in that direction and see the female Eizand guard removing T’Sona’s communicator badge and phaser from her body. Picard schooled his features, willing himself to offer no outward sign of the rage and regret building within him. Instead, he returned his attention to Hilonu and locked eyes with the leader.
“If you had wanted to take us into custody, you could’ve done so at any time without inciting violence.” He thought he saw a hint of what might be genuine regret in the presider’s eyes, but it was fleeting before she composed herself.
“It is possible that we are simply not yet as advanced and open-minded as you are, Captain. After all, we are recovering from a global calamity just as your people once had to do. Perhaps, in time, we will learn to curb our baser instincts while in pursuit of harmony and peace with our interstellar neighbors.”
Moving from behind her desk, Hilonu stepped toward Picard, her expression once more fixed and impassive. “For now, however, I have a solemn duty to perform on behalf of the Tevent Coalition and all the people of Sralanya. I am empowered to see to it that all of those lost in the war along with their descendants who have given so much to prevent our civilization from sliding into ruin receive some measure of justice.”
Feeling a knot forming deep in his stomach, Picard asked, “And just what justice do you seek, Presider?”
Hilonu’s eyes narrowed, and now Picard saw genuine fury behind them.
“Captain, as a representative of Earth, you are charged with wanton acts of aggression against the Eizand people and the planet Sralanya.”