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Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2004 21:37:42 -0600
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW TNG: Journey to Destiny [R] 1/? P/C h/c
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Title: Journey To Destiny
Author: Celeste
Email: celestetyroll@yahoo.co.uk
Fandom: Star Trek TNG
Pairing: Canon (I think) bit of Jean Luc/Other but really tiny
Rating: R
Status : Completed
Beta: Not Betaed
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort
Archive: ASCEM. Others Please Ask.  Email me if want Word Doc.
Disclaimer: Star Trek TNG and its characters are the property of 
Paramount. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money 
exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original 
characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. 
This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the 
author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is 
coincidental and not intended by the author.
Summary: Jean Luc Picard is abducted. 
is the only fic I ever did for Star Trek. Please enjoy. 
Feedback: Is craved. No flames.
Filesize:  505KB

Prologue

Sub Commander Har'n leaned back as far as he could into the sparse 
shade afforded him by a light outcrop of rock that projected from an 
otherwise smooth cliff face behind him. The Romulan Sub Commander was 
hot. He swept his index finger around the moist collar that tightly 
enclosed his throat. Sweat beaded his forehead. The discomfort 
offered by this inhospitable place was almost unbearable but H'arn 
stoically forced himself to ignore it.  
Hooded eyes squinting, Har'n studied two males that stood at the very 
edge of  a natural platform that all three shared. This platform 
jutted out from a cliff face that descended at least two earth 
kilometers to the arid desert beneath.  The planet of Saros was 
barren, it's air humid and acrid to Har'ns' tongue. 
His Commander and an alien stood engrossed in conversation at the 
edge of this precipice, their voices just audible to Har'n whose 
frustration increased as he strained to understand the content of 
their discussion. Unable to decipher any meaning Har'n turned his 
attention to the surrounding area. Although his clear orders were to 
remain at a distance Har'n still had a duty to the safety of his 
Commander.  The double suns that dominated the sky  were blinding and 
the Sub Commander immediately had to close his eyes to protect them, 
despite the protective sun visor he wore.
When he opened them his Commander was striding towards him. Har'n was 
impressed by his commanding officer's stamina, to stand in the full 
heat of Saros's twin suns was not a feat to be underestimated. The 
alien, its face protected by a light cowl, remained still, gazing out 
at the expanse of desert that stretched to the far horizon. Har'n had 
never seen the alien close to, he did not even know its' race and his 
Commander had never enlightened him. They had attended several of 
these meetings before, each at a different and isolated location. 
Always, as today, the alien would be waiting for them and Har'n knew 
he would remain here until long after the Romulans had moved back 
into warp space. 
Sub Commander Har'n stood to attention as his Commander reached him. 
The Commander's face was impassive indicating little of his actual 
thoughts.  He nodded  and Har'n immediately opened his communications 
link to the Romulan warbird that orbited the planet, out of sight 
above them. 
"Commander S'huy and Sub Commander Har'n to transport aboard." Har'n 
ordered.
Almost instantaneous with his request the two Romulans were submerged 
within a transporter beam,  particles briefly shimmering in the heat 
before returning Har'n and S'huy to their ship. Har'n's last sight of 
Saros was the immense and cloaked bulk of the mysterious alien, 
silhouetted against a pale orange sky streaked by deep hues of 
scarlet from the slowly setting suns.

Back on board the Warbird Kallonos, Commander S'huy briefly passed 
his orders for departing the Saros star system, and returning to the 
safer realms of the Romulan empire, to his Sub Commander before 
making his way to his personal quarters. An experienced veteran of 
many battles within the empire the wall behind his desk was studded 
with minor honors collected during  twenty years of military service. 
S'huy sat down at his desk, the palms of his weathered hands placed 
flat on the smooth, glossy surface of the command panel inset within 
the desktop. The panel lit up displaying a wealth of information 
which S'huy took in with one look, noting that the course back to  
Romulan space had already been entered. He heard the order to move to 
warp speed over the general intercom and glanced to the port window 
in time to witness the pattern of stars particular to Saros disappear.
Only then did S'huy relax, letting out a  long, deep sigh.
All the rewards of long and loyal service meant nothing, he mused, if 
after twenty years of service his influence within the Council 
remained limited. But now this could all change. When he had first 
met the alien they had just left behind on Saros, S'huy had nearly 
killed him but the alien had told him a story that had staggered 
S'huy. An understanding had been reached and S'huy had sensed for the 
first time a real opportunity to improve his position in the 
hierarchy of the Romulan Council, that would challenge even that of 
the T'Shay. After years of cultivation and negotiating with the 
T'Shay,  S'huy had been granted permission to begin trade with the 
alien. Somewhere in the passage of time S'huy had lost the initiative 
and the alien had begun to dominate their partnership. The loss of 
control had been quickly perceived by the T'Shay and lately Commander 
S'huy had begun to feel their pressure for a bigger return on their 
investment in him.
Today S'huy believed a bargain had been reached that S'huy knew the 
T'Shay would place their faith in. The opportunity presented to the 
Romulans, at minimal risk to the empire, was too great to ignore. The 
T'Shay would gain the loyalty of a high ranking member of the 
Council, in the current political climate a substantial return in 
itself but even more than this was the chance to hit out at the 
Federation in a move that would rock its foundations and demoralize 
its member states.
But the twist in the tail, was the personal revenge that would be 
unleashed on an old adversary of S'huys, who many years ago had 
outwitted him as a newly promoted commander, ultimately causing his 
career to stagnate for several years. S'huy could barely believe the 
chance of fate that made this possible. Not  once did the Commander 
worry that he would not personally avenge the human responsible for 
so much lost time in his advancement through the ranks. Instead, his 
mind burned with the desire for vengeance and the name of a Starfleet 
officer who now held the rank of captain on one of Starfleet's finest 
flagships. Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Galaxy Class 
Starship the USS  Enterprise.
                                                        
Chapter 1

Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701-D was 
furiously pacing his quarters, a stern expression furrowing deep 
grooves in his otherwise smooth brow. Not for the first time, he 
swung back to the console that stood on his desk in his personal 
quarters.
Pressing a control pad the screen lit up displaying the file that had 
provoked his current mood.
He had read its contents once more when the door chimed.
"Enter". he muttered absently. The door slid open and a familiar 
female voice spoke.
"Jean-Luc, may I speak with you?" requested Dr. Beverly Crusher the 
ship's Chief Medical Officer.
Straightening, he turned to face her and the doctor immediately moved 
to his side, concern etched in her face.
"What is it?" she asked him urgently.
A little taken aback by her reaction, Picard quickly reassured her 
that he was fine.
"I've received some rather disturbing news." he volunteered. He 
stopped, Crusher waited patiently but when Picard did not continue 
curiosity got the better of her.
"Well, what's happened? Is everything all right?" Dr. Crusher knew 
the captain was sometimes reticent to talk about his concerns.
Wordlessly Picard gestured to the screen and Crusher moved round to 
read the few sentences displayed there. Picard went to the sofa and 
sat down. A cup of Earl Grey tea sat on the coffee table, so he 
picked it up to take a sip. It was cold. He put the cup down again.
Dr. Crusher spun round her face alight with pleasure.
"But this is wonderful news, Jean-Luc. Congratulations." She paused 
as his downtrodden demeanor struck her.
"You're not pleased are you. Captain, this is an incredible honor, 
for the Enterprise too." Picard struggled to express some semblance 
of pleasure.
"I do feel honored...very! But to be perfectly frank, I was looking 
forward to exploring this region of space. There are some very 
unusual star clusters in the area, one of which is close to 
collapsing. The stellar cartography department have been working very 
hard to prepare for studying the actual event."
Crusher sat down in an armchair and as if to prove his contrary mood 
Picard stood up to pace up and down the room.
"Have you any idea what this will mean?" he asked. "Speeches. Award 
ceremonies, receptions, handshaking." His body fairly shuddered at 
the thought, his voice rising slightly in volume as he gave vent to 
his feelings.
Crusher successfully hid a smile. In fact Picard loved making 
speeches on subjects he felt passionately about, but he did have a 
strong aversion to receptions and the social necessities they 
involved. The captain had in the past managed to find plenty of 
reasons to avoid such events.
In this particular instance Captain Picard had been selected to 
deliver the honorary address to  Starfleet Command at Starfleet's 
Annual Conference. The honorary address was customarily delivered by 
a Starfleet officer held in the highest regard, providing an 
opportunity to highlight areas of concern to those actively engaged 
in duties throughout Starfleet. The conference was transmitted by 
subspace to every planet member of the Federation and the honorary 
address was the highlight of the event as its content was taken very 
seriously and subsequent action almost guaranteed. The responsibility 
involved in deciding the content and delivery of the honorary address 
was therefore of the highest importance and a key factor in selecting 
its speaker.
Picard sat down beside Crusher looking directly into the doctor's 
lovely green eyes. 
"It will mean the Enterprise being sent on hundreds of diplomatic 
missions." 
The doctor was unable to prevent herself laughing out loud at his 
mournful tone. She was well aware that the Captain's first love was 
exploratory missions, not those of protocol. Picard glared at her and 
she stopped.
"It won't be forever." Crusher pointed out in an attempt to put 
Picard's problem into perspective. "Come on". she coaxed him. "Surely 
you are slightly pleased. Just a little."
Well aware she had disarmed him successfully, Picard laughed.
"Perhaps just a little." he admitted smiling.
"Good." Crusher pronounced. Taking his hand she pulled him to his 
feet, before leaning forward to kiss his left cheek. "In that case 
let me congratulate you once again. Properly."
Picard accepted her kiss graciously, his senses taking in a gentle 
waft of  her natural perfume. He suddenly remembered his manners and 
stepping back offered his attractive visitor some refreshment.
"You wanted me for something." he reminded her as he went to arrange 
some fresh tea and biscuits.
While he was busy Crusher filled him in on some of her latest 
research. She had reached a stumbling block and wanted his opinion.
"It sounds to me that you have proved the original basis for this 
research is flawed." Picard offered. He suspected Crusher, whose 
research skills were excellent, wanted to use Picard as a sounding 
board to confirm a decision she had already reached herself. He was 
right.
"I was afraid you would say that." she said glumly. "Oh well. Back to 
the drawing board." Putting her cup down she stood up to go, suddenly 
impatient to get back to work.
"Would you like me to inform the bridge of our course change?" she 
asked him casually, stopping at the door to his quarters. Picard 
glanced at her sharply, just catching the impish twinkle in her eyes. 
"No. I'll see to it myself." he replied a trifle curtly.
Dr. Crusher was not in the least put out by his tone. 
"Fine." she replied, nodding her head in acknowledgment. As the door 
opened to let her out she could not resist a parting shot. 
"I'll look forward to your announcement then."
Picard glared after her but was faced only with the closing doors. 
Pondering his ship's doctor's ability to needle him so easily, he 
smiled wryly to himself. But, he conceded, it was a task to be done. 
Sitting down at his desk he began to work on an announcement on their 
change of course and the reason behind it. 
Ten minutes later he erased his third attempt. Trying to be modest 
did not work he realized. Better to keep it factual. One minute later 
he was satisfied and with a touch of the screen he had sent the ship 
wide announcement winging its way through the intra ship 
communications system. Immediately his order to change course was 
received on the bridge, to delighted cheers.

Across the galaxy, on the other side of  the planet Earth, a ship had 
just docked on the planet Calgos.  
Calgos was not a member of the Federation, but had established itself 
as a trading center linking the Federation with non member planets 
capable of interstellar travel. Its trading links extended into both 
the Romulan and Klingon Empires and over many centuries it had become 
a destination stop for many species. 
The governing body of Calgos had long given up attempting to monitor 
the legalities of  those passing through and recognizing that its 
economy depended on its trading status concentrated on ensuring that 
trading arrangements could continue unmolested by the various 
factions that inhabited the planet at any time. Calgos had become a 
haven for all manner of miscreant and lawful traders. Total chaos was 
prevented by the strict enforcement of a docking code and  safety of 
the ships and their contents. Once personnel or merchandise left the 
relative safety of the space dock Calgos practically abdicated all 
responsibility. The planet was an unstable place to visit at the best 
of times and the few who remained for any length of time were well 
versed in survival.
The ship was called The Olanter,  unusual in its design it 
represented the latest in Romulan technology and invited much 
interest from other visitors to Calgos, but at a distance of course. 
Its captain was a merchant by the name of Maxim Dentor whose 
reputation was well known in the criminal fringes of the galaxy. 
Dentor had been out of circulation for a few years after some 
disastrous activity in the Tyrellium sector so his obvious recent 
elevation up the greasy pole of success was impressive. Dentor had 
become a figure to be reckoned with, not least for his ability to 
remain out of reach of the law within and outside the Federation.
Calgos was  therefore a natural place for Dentor to visit and catch 
up with old acquaintances, without attracting unwanted attention. 
Today as he stepped into the hectic activity of Calgor's docking city 
Dentor was looking for someone very special. He made straight for a 
beady eyed Ferengi, who maintained a street stall selling all manner 
of gems and stones in traditional market fashion. They exchanged a 
few words. Dentor discreetly handed over one bar of latinum before 
heading purposefully down the street. After a few twists and turns, 
Dentor's demeanor subtly began to change so he became of less 
interest to those he passed. 
Fifteen minutes later Dentor was satisfied that he had not been 
followed and he entered a dark alley. Fifty meters along it he 
stopped and putting out his hand felt along the rough surface of the 
wall. Within seconds he had located a control panel and pressing it 
lightly  a door in the wall slid open, the light increased 
sufficiently for Dentor to enter without stumbling. The door slid 
shut behind him and instantly before him an inner door opened to 
reveal a dimly lit tavern. Tables and chairs occupied dark alcoves 
lit by subtle soft lighting. The ambiance was subdued and secretive, 
except for one corner by the main bar where a vocal group of native 
Calgorns laughed and chatted, downing long tall glasses of Calgorian 
beer. Ignoring them Dentor scanned the alcoves until he spotted the 
woman he had been searching for.  
The young and attractive human female tipped her glass  towards him, 
acknowledging his arrival. 
Dentor continued to scan the room, his eyes only having briefly 
rested on her. However he did not forget the image she presented.
He thought she looked harder than the last time they had met, five 
years ago now he reflected. In that time he had followed news, what 
little there was, of her activities. Most of it he knew would be 
rumor but he had heard first hand accounts from mutual contacts and 
realized it was not surprising if she had changed.
Casually he crossed to the bar, attracting his fair share of 
appraising stares from the established crowd of customers, and 
ordered the specialty beer of the house. Running his eyes over the 
mob, he satisfied himself that there was no undue interest being paid 
to him or the female. He sipped his beer, nodding approval to the 
bartender, before making his way to the woman's table. He tilted back 
its spare chair, waiting politely. The woman shrugged and he sat 
down. Brown and green flecked eyes studied him over the rim of a 
curly glass. Jet black hair cropped close to her head framed the 
delicate bone structure of her face. When she lowered her glass it 
revealed a slightly wry smile.
"So Maxim, we meet again. It has been too long." she greeted him, her 
voice pitched low.
"I hear you've done well, Tal". Dentor responded. Tal Caoussin 
inclined her head fractionally.
"So what brings you looking for me?" she asked him directly.
Dentor allowed himself  a brief smile. It faded as he glanced down at 
his glass.
"I have a job you may be interested in." he replied. He looked up, 
his expression now deadly serious.
Caoussin shifted her position slightly before answering, the movement 
almost sensual.
"I'm sure I will." Her comment was made blandly, giving nothing away.
"It's big." Dentor warned her. "You would not be working entirely on 
your own, but I'll make sure you get the leeway you need. Your 
reputation precedes you and we need your expertise. You will not 
judge your pay unacceptable."
"Sounds risky." Caoussin leaned back in her chair, studying Dentor 
through half closed, smoldering eyes. "What's involved?"
"I cannot say much now, except that we will carry out a dangerous 
operation deep in Federation territory. Later a meeting with our 
employer. I know little more myself, our employer works strictly on a 
need to know basis. I do know our final destination lies beyond the 
known frontiers of the galaxy and will bring us close to the outer 
reaches of the Romulan empire."
Caoussin raised a well defined eyebrow.
"The Romulans are involved?"
Dentor shrugged. He really did not know.
"You don't know what might be out there." Caoussin pointed out. "This 
is well outside your normal sphere of operation, Maxim. Why take the 
risk?" She raised her drink.
Dentor quoted a monetary sum that stopped Caoussin in her tracks, her 
glass suspended in mid air. 
"That's an awful lot of credit." she whispered, her eyes finally 
betraying a small hint of interest. Dentor merely nodded, his intense 
gaze holding her own.
Caoussin made her decision and suddenly downing the rest of her drink 
stood up. They had worked together before and Dentor had known she 
would trust his instincts on this.
"Right, I'm all yours." she told him. "Let's get out of this rat 
hole."
Suppressing his triumph, Dentor joined her as they negotiated their 
way to the exit. Mentally he ticked off the first important task in 
his list. He now had his complete team, next was the far trickier 
hurdle of getting them to work as one. Tal was a professional, he 
knew, she would cause him little trouble, but some of the others. He 
whistled under his breath causing Caoussin to glance up at him.
At the docking station they parted after agreeing a rendezvous in 
space, where Caoussin would dock her own smaller spacecraft with the 
Olanter. Ten earth minutes later the Olanter and The Scriptor were 
warping through space leaving Calgos far behind. 

Trantor Nogura,  Head of Federation Intelligence, based on the planet 
Earth, accessed a message tagged Priority One that had just appeared 
on his console. It flashed red on his screen demanding his immediate 
attention. The contents were classified and in code. To read it 
Nogura was obliged to transfer the file to a personal decoder. As the 
program began Nogura noted that it was a highly secure code and would 
take several seconds to complete. He got up and requested a steaming 
mug of coffee from the replicator. One minute later, coffee in hand 
he read the contents of the message.
Finally he leaned back sipping his drink. The coffee was still hot 
and distracted, Nogura burned his tongue. Uttering a short curse, he 
ignored the pain and requested the computer to connect him through to 
Federation Security Chief Klaxos. Klaxos was currently based on 
Vulcan, but just happened to be on Earth for the forthcoming 
Starfleet conference. Somewhat fortuitously Nogura considered. Klaxos 
had an uncanny knack for being in the right place at the right time. 
As if to prove his point Klaxos appeared on Nogura's console 
immediately.
"Nogura." Klaxos spoke immediately. "What can I do for you?" 
The Federation's most senior security officer never bothered with 
niceties, preferring to get straight to the point. Nogura was more 
than happy with this approach.
"I have received contact from one of my agents. It appears serious. 
We need to meet straight away. I suggest the President's Chief of 
Staff attends.". 
"Fine." Klaxos agreed. "Thirteen hundred hours. My office. The Chief 
is due here then anyway to discuss arrangements for the Starfleet 
conference." He signed off.
Next Nogura accessed a file from his personal and highly secure 
library. Getting the file took some time as he had to provide several 
codes and passwords before the computer finally relinquished the data 
he required.  It was a personnel file on one of his top agents,  
Agent XY7FGY, code named Jasper. Nogura noted that Jasper had been 
out of circulation for four months until a message had arrived just 
two weeks ago. This message had indicated that a large operation, 
parameters unknown, was underway. Jasper was investigating and would 
recontact at the next possible moment. Which was obviously now.
Retrieving the latest message from working storage, Nogura reread it:

"Federation threatened. Outside source. Organized. 
  Major terrorist activity planned soon. Must follow 
through. 
  Support required. XY7FGY."

Only Nogura and his predecessor knew Jasper's true identity. 
Protecting his federation agents was Nogura's chief responsibility 
and one he took very seriously. Failure to do this by the Federation 
in the past had provoked near catastrophic consequences for the 
Federation during the Borg incident.  Federation Intelligence did not 
put its agents out in the field to ignore them but it was difficult 
to support them when they were deep undercover. Almost everything 
that took place in the Federation was known to three men: Nogura, 
Klaxos and the President's personal aide. If all three understood the 
situation then Nogura knew Jasper would get the support required 
without further risk of communication. It was his job to work out 
what.    

  Chapter 2

On the Enterprise Ten Forward was in uproar with most crew members 
not on duty celebrating their Captain's good fortune. Guinan stood 
like a queen behind the bar, her cheerful, round face beaming smiles 
to all around. The demands for more and more exotic drinks kept 
piling in. 
It had been Counselor Deanna Troi who had persuaded the captain to 
join his crew for a celebration drink before he and his three most 
senior officers beamed down to the reception dinner on the eve of the 
Starfleet Annual Conference. 
"Your crew expects you, Captain. They want to express their 
congratulations." she had tried to no avail. Picard was too engrossed 
in preparing his speech. Finally, when she had exhausted her list of 
persuasive arguments Troi had resorted to the unfair, risking his 
wrath by a last ditch attempt at coercion.
"It's your duty." she had stated resolutely.
Captain Picard had glared at his ship's Counselor, not missing the 
bland and professional mask Troi now presented, calmly meeting his 
own increasingly exasperated expression.
Sighing, he had raised his hands in defeat before gesturing to the 
door of his ready room to indicate she should exit first.
Triumphantly, Troi had escorted Picard to Ten Forward, clearly 
determined not to let him out of her sight now she had achieved her 
objective. She was careful not to let her feelings show but Picard 
was not fooled for a minute. The captain was very fond of his 
betazoid counselor and he let it go without comment.
On reflection Picard had to admit he had enjoyed the festivities and 
the atmosphere Guinan had created in Ten Forward. Spectacularly 
colored drinks decorated the tables, and endless trays of aromatic 
delicacies were handed around by the bar staff. He was also touched 
by the enthusiasm that greeted him. All too soon the hour to leave 
came about and a smiling Commander William Riker, his first officer, 
appeared at his elbow.
"Time to go, Will?" Picard asked, checking the chronometer on the 
wall. 
"Yes, sir." Riker confirmed. Riker turned to face Counselor Troi, 
playfully extending his arm. "Counselor. May I escort you?" he 
requested courteously.
Troi laughed before placing her hand on his arm.
"I would be delighted, kind sir." she replied demurely.
Picard raised an eyebrow at his chief medical officer, who had just 
joined them, in dress uniform as they all were.
"Doctor?" he offered his arm. 
"Captain." she accepted with a humorous smile, her eyes crinkling at 
the corners. 
The four officers were surrounded by milling well wishers who 
escorted them to the doors to Ten Forward. Once in the relative peace 
of the corridor the Captain and his guests quickly made their way to 
the transporter room where the officer on duty beamed the group to 
the reception entrance on the Earth's planet surface below.

The reception dinner had been in full swing for two hours now, with 
four courses over. Dessert and coffee had been served and the 
vivacious conversation had dimmed to a low murmur. Fleet Admiral 
Surek, a senior Vulcan officer high up in Starfleet Command, had 
risen to deliver a welcoming speech. His speech was to be broadcast 
to the member planets of the Federation as part of the opening 
coverage on the conference. The Vulcan delivered his words solemnly, 
outlining the aims of the conference and highlighting results 
forthcoming from previous years. He went on to describe the purpose 
of the honorary speech scheduled for mid week and the care that went 
into choosing its speaker. 
"This year the honorary address will be given by Captain Jean-Luc 
Picard of the USS Enterprise. Captain Picard is an officer who has 
represented the best of Starfleet in upholding the Federation's 
central principles of truth and peace.  A Starfleet captain who has 
earned the love and respect of his crew. A man who has `pulled many 
rabbits out of many hats'."
This last comment got a delighted laugh from the audience of senior 
starfleet officers and various members of the Federation Council. 
Admiral Surek was well known for his fascination with Earth English 
colloquiums, working them into his conversation whenever he could. 
Surek maintained that resolving the logic of such sentences 
challenged the most intellectual of minds.
Captain Picard, the subject of his discourse, was forced to laugh 
too, although inwardly he was quailing as Surek looked set to 
continue. He picked up his coffee and sipped it slowly. It had been 
delivered together with the traditional mints that reminded him of  
Counselor Troi's love for chocolate. He glanced at the betazoid, who 
sat directly across from him at the table, next to Commander Riker, 
and caught her unable to resist. 
Troi sensed his attention as she slipped the mint into her mouth and 
Picard thoroughly enjoyed the guilty expression that instantly stole 
across her face. As she swallowed the last piece Troi returned his 
smile, promising him revenge for catching her out.
Picard noticed Beverly Crusher, beside him, catch their exchange. She 
raised her eyebrows questioningly, clearly wondering what the joke 
was. So it was both Picard and the doctor who observed the change in 
expression that crossed Deanna Troi's face. Her smile faded, her eyes 
reflecting initial puzzlement and then alarm. Instantly alert, Picard 
noted the blood drain from Troi's skin and the frown that creased her 
forehead. Troi moaned, startling Riker who had been riveted by 
Admiral Sureks' speech. He turned to find his companion bending 
towards the table, her arms tightly clutching her stomach. Troi 
looked awful and Riker immediately placed an arm on her shoulder. 
Crusher had moved round to reach her and rapidly scanned the betazoid 
with the medical tricorder she was rarely without. Plainly concerned, 
Dr. Crusher tilted up Troi's face to study her eyes. Troi was in 
terrible pain, biting her lip until it drew blood to prevent a cry 
being heard. Troi was clearly mortified to be causing a scene at such 
a prestigious event.
"Can you describe the pain?" Crusher asked her quietly. Troi shook 
her head, unable to speak.
"Will, we have to get her to sickbay." Crusher told an anxious Riker 
urgently. "Now." 
Riker nodded, getting up to help Troi out of her seat. By now most of 
the room, including Admiral Surek, were aware of the disturbance. 
Picard started to get up, but Riker caught the motion and nodded his 
captain to remain where he was. Realizing that there was little more 
he could do to help and that duty demanded he sit the reception out, 
Picard sat down again.
Admiral Surek, had quickly assessed the situation and continued his 
dialogue, forcing the audience's attention back to himself. 
As Riker and Troi stepped away from the table, Troi cried out, and 
except for Riker's grip around her waist would have collapsed 
completely to the floor. Just semi conscious, Troi was completely 
unaware of the pandemonium that next broke out.
Admiral Surek, standing on a dais, was the first to see the 
shimmering forms that instantly took solid shape at strategic points 
around the room. Faltering, he cried out a warning. Caught unawares 
and distracted by the disturbance at Picard's table, Starfleet's most 
senior and experienced officers reacted seconds too late. The 
honorary security guards were felled before they had a chance to draw 
their weapons. Employing the age old tactic of noise to disorientate 
their victims a group of black masked humanoid forms, with vicious 
looking and formidable weapons, began shouting orders  to get down to 
the floor.
Picard looked at the scene erupting around him. Glancing at an 
incredulous Riker, still holding Troi, Picard motioned his first 
officer down. Riker did not need further urging as he too took one 
look round from his vantage point standing up, and pulling Troi with 
him joined the rest on the floor, Dr. Crusher closely following 
behind him. Picard exchanged a worried glance with her. Within 
seconds a sturdily built figure, dressed in black, tight fitting 
combat gear stood among their prone bodies, a snout nosed weapon 
floating in a circle above them.
Silence had replaced the frenzied shouting that had characterized the 
intruders arrival. There seemed to be movement between the tables, 
but the terrorist guard that covered them did not move.
Another of the terrorists, much slighter in build, appeared beside 
Picard. A scanner passed above his head, then back over his body to 
his feet. Next it moved over Crusher. Within seconds, a hand reached 
down to pluck Crushers' medical tricorder from her grip. The doctor 
relinquished it without question. A moan from the Counselor drew 
their searcher's attention.
"She's sick. She needs medical treatment". Dr. Crusher told them her 
voice slightly muffled, but firm. Troi was thrashing about, Riker 
struggling to pin her down.
Instantly a muzzle was pressed hard against Crusher's neck. Picard 
drew in a quick breath, his muscles coiling with tension, his eyes 
never leaving the gloved finger that poised on the weapon's trigger. 
Slowly a black gloved hand reached beneath the doctor to remove the 
communicator pinned to her tunic. Wisely the doctor remained silent 
and the weapon was slowly removed. As Picard released his breath, he 
sensed surrounding hostages do likewise.
Continuing to ignore the betazoid's anguished movements, their 
searcher, face totally masked behind some standard type breathing 
apparatus, next took their remaining communicators. Clearly similar 
activity was ongoing throughout the room and a varied collection of 
equipment and weapons from security guards and guests was quickly and 
efficiently confiscated. Barely a minute had past, Picard calculated.
Standing behind him, a female voice spoke, the tone clear and 
commanding. The voice belonged to their searcher and quickly 
established its owner as the leader of  this terrorist group.
"Please take your seats again, but before you do, be warned that the 
slightest sign of trouble will be eliminated, no questions asked." 
They were warned.
The group of hostages regained their feet before sitting down. Picard 
noticed that many of the Council members appeared suitably subdued, a 
few clearly indignant at the outrage but unwilling to stand out.  The 
generally senior Starfleet officers were clearly angry, but like the 
more junior officers from the Enterprise had assessed their situation 
and were not tempted to try any heroics. Riker had lifted Troi to her 
seat, she had quietened down, and had immediately rested her head on 
one outstretched hand on the table, her other arm still clamped round 
her stomach.
Admiral Surek, still on the dais, was motioned to his empty seat. The 
Vulcan smoothed down his tunic before walking, dignified, to his 
chair. An uneasy sense of order had returned to the room. Picard 
glanced at Riker, who had been studying the room's walls and exits. 
Riker noticed him and shook his head. Picard looked round and guessed 
Riker's conclusions. The exits were sealed and guarded by two 
terrorists each. He could not be sure but Picard was certain that 
security for the conference had been compromised, it was the only 
possible explanation for the lack of response from the external 
security team. The female leader spoke and Picard swung his attention 
back.
"Your communicators have been confiscated but you should know that a 
block on all signals
was automatically initiated on our arrival."
"Perhaps you could enlighten us to your purpose here?" requested a 
more elderly starfleet officer, his tone testy.
"Ah, Admiral Lowndon. Thank you for your question. The answer is No." 
the leader replied mildly.
Troi groaned, and Picard raised his hand. The leader nodded at him.
"Counselor Troi is ill. She needs urgent medical treatment. Let her 
go, she is no use to you."
he requested reasonably.
"No."
"This is senseless. What can you hope to gain from holding her this 
way." Picard argued, suppressing his anger at the terrorist's callous 
disregard of Troi's position.
Behind her black breathing mask, a snort exploded. Slowly the female 
terrorist moved towards Picard, the seconds dragging until she halted 
directly behind Picard's right ear. He could feel her almost touch 
him, she was so close. Although her weapon did not actually touch 
him, the fine hairs on the back of his neck fairly sensed its muzzle 
close against his neck. He remained perfectly still, his eyes staring 
straight ahead. It was so quiet Picard swore he would have heard a 
pin drop.
Crusher stared slightly behind him, her mouth very slightly open, her 
posture tense. 
A voice spoke directly by his ear.
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard. A pleasure to meet you." The female 
terrorist spoke softly but the message behind her words bespoke a 
clear danger. Picard noted the use of his name. These terrorists were 
clearly familiar with them all. To his relief the female stepped 
back, momentarily relieving the pressure created by her menacing 
actions. Now she began to circle the table, her weapon casually 
dragging on the back of Picard's chair and then Crusher's who could 
not help but move slightly forward. 
Two guests further on, the terrorist stopped behind Troi. The whole 
room seemed hypnotized by her, Picard observed. Her next movements 
were so quick Picard barely followed them.
"No." he cried leaping up as the terrorist leader placed her weapon 
against Troi's neck. A slight finger pressure on a side control panel 
released a pressurized measure of gas directly into the vein running 
down Troi's neck. As Troi slumped to the table unconscious,  Picard 
found himself staring into her weapon pointed directly at him. 
Immediately he saw that the weapon was multi functional, several 
openings yawning at him. 
"Sit down." a male voice shouted at the several hostages who had 
begun to rise from their seats.
All but Picard sat down, the terrorists were well positioned to quell 
any rebellion and the experienced starfleet officers knew it.
"She's alive." Riker told Picard, his fingers on the inside of the 
betazoid's wrist. Picard sensed rather than saw the warning in 
Riker's eye. He stood immobile, waiting for the terrorist to make the 
next move.
It came unexpectedly, a bright flash of light from the weapon pointed 
directly at his heart. A  sudden force propelled him to the floor and 
a sharp paralyzing pain spread through his chest.
Picard felt the room begin to spin around him, a roaring noise 
filling his ears. For a brief moment Picard waited for death to 
descend, but his senses continued to receive data. Gradually it 
unjumbled itself.
Crusher was kneeling beside him, ripping his dress shirt open. He 
could not hold back a groan as strange painful sensations began to 
ripple through him. A medical tricorder appeared between them. 
Surprised, Crusher accepted it from the terrorist who had shot 
Picard.  Swiftly scanning Picard's chest, the doctor studied the 
results, her eyes suddenly widening.
"What is it?" Picard whispered, his throat feeling constricted.
Crusher stared down at him worried. 
"It looks like some sort of artificial virus, a microbe that is 
embedding itself into your heart. What is this, exactly?" she 
demanded, glaring up at Picard's assailant. 
"What do you think it is?" was the studied response.
Picard twitched. Tingling sensations, but not painful, played round 
his chest, tightening an imaginary band around his chest. Still he 
could not move. Her lips tightening, Crusher ran an analysis on the 
data recorded in the tricorder.
"An artificial virus, designed to embed itself into a mechanical 
organ. It contains a nuclear energy source." Crusher pronounced 
dispassionately, the scientist in her fascinated by the strange 
device now deep in Picard's artificial heart.
"Will he be all right?" Riker demanded.
Crusher nodded, still studying the data appearing on her tricorder. 
She took a quick breath and turned to Riker.
"This virus is potentially explosive." she noted pointedly, glancing 
up at the terrorist still beside her and then at Picard. 
Picard absorbed this information whilst feeling life return to his 
limbs. He moved his right arm. The terrorist leaned over  him to 
gently remove the medical tricorder from Crusher, who reluctantly let 
it go. 
"Thank you, Doctor." the terrorist leader merely replied, gesturing 
Crusher to return to her seat. Crusher obediently stood up before 
pausing to indicate Troi.
"Sit down Doctor. I won't ask you again." the terrorist leader warned 
her, her weapon pointing significantly to Crusher's chair. Crusher 
sat down slowly, clearly unhappy. 
The terrorist pocketed the tricorder and stepping back nudged 
Picard's leg. Guessing her intent, Picard struggled to climb up, 
gripping the chair for support as he stood upright, the room seeming 
to tilt slightly. His vision blurred momentarily and he suppressed a 
groan of pain that briefly stabbed him before his vision cleared.
He looked round feeling all eyes on him. Troi was still unconscious, 
her head resting on the table. "Right." announced the female leader 
nodding at two of her associates. "Let's get this finished."
All the terrorists were garbed in the same black combat suits with 
environmental protection masks which doubled up to shield individual 
identities. These two were no exceptions but were larger in bulk than 
the average human. They marched up to take positions either side of 
Picard, seizing his arms and twisting them behind his back. Their 
leader covered them as Picard was dragged towards the empty dais 
passing between faces displaying varying degrees of shock. 
An angry murmur of protest rose around him, which was swiftly 
silenced although Picard was unable to see how.
His captor's grips around his wrists and upper arms were remorseless, 
as tight as steel bands. Rage welled up in him and he struggled 
briefly but his captors were much stronger and merely tightened their 
grip, almost carrying him across the room. Realizing his resistance 
was futile Picard forced himself to relax. His reward was immediate 
as his feet gained solid contact of the ground and took his whole 
weight. His guards released their grip, and the male on his right 
stuck a phaser gun to Picard's ribs. With mounting horror Picard and 
the other hostages watched his second captor take a bolt gun from a 
holdall strapped to his back. The holdall was placed on the floor 
open so that Picard was able to view its contents. As he analyzed the 
visible contents Picard felt sick. Swallowing down the bile that rose 
up from his stomach he  stood frozen as the bolt gun, little 
different from basic equipment Picard had used in the past when 
mountaineering, was pointed to the ceiling and fired. The bolt wedged 
deeply into the ceiling, dangling beneath it on a short chain was a 
steel ring.     
Picard looked across to his first officer. Riker was clearly 
stricken. Anticipating the danger the terrorist leader had placed her 
weapon against the back of Troi's exposed neck. Desperately Picard 
scanned the sealed doors. From this new vantage point Picard was 
impressed at the strategic positions the infiltrators had taken up. 
All doors were covered, and the hostages encircled. Only two 
terrorists stood among the tables, including the female by Troi. 
Picard counted ten. A one to ten ratio he thought, focusing his mind 
on gathering as much information as he could. His guard prodded him 
forward. 
The tall terrorist who had finished his preparations motioned to his 
dress uniform, torn open by Dr. Crusher when she had examined him. 
"Take this off." he ordered.
Picard felt his jaw tighten, he allowed a few seconds to pass before 
he slowly took it off, letting his right hand do most of the work. 
His left arm was responding now but felt sluggish. To his relief his 
movements did not cause any further pain in his chest. Whatever the 
microbe in his heart was doing it had appeared to have finished its 
task and had settled down. Remembering its presence though was a 
mistake as the full implications of Dr. Crusher's analysis struck 
home. For one second Picard stopped breathing terrified that any 
motion would cause the microbe to become unstable and explode.
His smaller guard prodded him. 
"Hurry it." a nasal voice ordered. Before Picard could react the 
second terrorist had grabbed the remaining sides of his shirt, 
roughly tearing it from Picard and throwing the ripped garment on top 
of his already discarded uniform.
Picard's wrists were then swiftly encased in two steel rings and 
hoisted above his head where they were expertly joined by a chain to 
the steel ring that hung from the ceiling. The nasal voiced guard 
left the dais so only Picard and the terrorist who had chained him 
remained. The terrorist took a small device from his pocket and 
activated a control. Silently the ceiling bolt swallowed sufficient 
chain to leave Picard dangling with just his toes to touch the floor. 
Picard bit back a cry as the steel rings bit cruelly into his wrists. 
For some reason he checked the chronometer on the wall. Just ten 
earth minutes had past since the terrorist's arrival. His gaze caught 
the stricken faces of Riker and Crusher and several members of 
Starfleet Command. 
The indignity of his position and his inability to counter it 
overwhelmed him. He looked back at the terrorist who had done this to 
him. The heavily built male was running his hands over the 
instruments Picard had recognized earlier. 
"Please, no." Picard whispered, too softly to be heard. The means of 
torture selected, the terrorist withdrew a short stemmed tube. As the 
terrorist stood up the tube was activated and a coil of green energy 
spat from one end to fall gracefully to the floor. It shimmered in 
the air, twitching.
Admiral Lowndon jumped up.
"Neuronic whips are forbidden under treaties observed by all members 
of this galaxy." he denounced. "You cannot do this."
A short burst of energy spat out from the female terrorist leader's 
weapon and the admiral fell to the floor. Immediately, Surek knelt 
down beside the prone admiral to feel for a pulse. Finding one, he 
peeled back Lowndon's eyelids, noting the pupils contract. 
"He is stunned only." Surek informed the anxious hostages. 
"This time." the female leader pointed out. "The next person to 
interfere will be dealt with. You have my word." She turned to 
Picard's waiting tormentor.
"We will proceed."
 
At Earth Security Headquarters, Chief of Security Klaxos paced up and 
down the control room. Ever since the arrival of the terrorists at 
the Annual Starfleet conference his security team had been feverishly 
working to contain the situation. The last few minutes had been 
quiet, his team in suspense while they waited for the  terrorists to 
make contact. Klaxos had ordered contact to be initiated within a 
minute of the transmission of Admiral Surek's speech cutting out, but 
all communication in and out of the reception hall had been blocked 
by some dampening device. The exception to this was a time coded 
communication to Klaxos that arrived literally seconds before the 
federation broadcast coverage of the dinner had been cut. The message 
had been brief and to the point informing the security chief that a 
terrorist operation to hijack the conference dinner was in progress 
and that interference in its successful conclusion would result in 
the elimination of the hostages. Klaxos had immediately detailed one 
of his officers to locate the source of the transmission, so far to 
no avail.
Other than this Klaxos had no information that he could use. The 
speed with which the terrorists had arrived and their ability to seal 
the hall off had impressed him, he knew that he was dealing with a 
highly organized and efficient group.
He had issued clear orders to his security teams to secure control 
around the reception and await orders.
His communications staff were still busy fielding all the incoming 
traffic from concerned groups, Starfleet Command, Federation Council, 
relatives and the media to name a few. 
The USS Enterprise had also called in under the command of a Lt. 
Commander Data. Klaxos had requested the Enterprise to utilize its 
impressive sensors to scan surrounding space to determine the 
location of the terrorists escape vessel. Klaxos was well aware that 
few terrorists were fanatical enough to take on suicide missions. 
There was usually an escape route planned.
Finally Klaxos had contacted Trantor Nogura and Tom Blakeney. Both 
were on their way. Blakeney had alerted the President.
"Excuse me, sir." a young female interrupted his thoughts. "The media 
are demanding to know if Earth is under any threat from this 
incident. There is widespread concern that this is a preemptive 
strike to immobilize Starfleet."
Klaxos groaned. 
"Inform the media that there is no threat to anyone or any planet 
other than those who were in the reception hall at the time the 
terrorists arrived."  
The woman nodded and left him. 
The doors to the control room opened silently and Nogura entered, 
closely followed by Blakeney. Klaxos nodded, indicating a nearby 
console that would update them. The two men pored over the data 
displayed there. 
"Sir." requested an officer monitoring the communications console. "I 
have an incoming message from a group claiming to be the hijackers. 
They call themselves The Araxsi."
Klaxos glanced at Nogura, who shook his head. 
"Never heard of them." Nogura added. 
"Put it on the speakers, Lieutenant." Klaxos ordered. A female voice 
immediately began to speak, the voice strong and commanding.
"Put me on to Klaxos now." it commanded.
"Open a communication channel on this frequency." Klaxos ordered the 
lieutenant.
"Open, sir."
"This is Klaxos. Who am I speaking to?" Klaxos asked smoothly.
"You can call me Araxsi. I lead this operation and I wish to state 
our demands." the female replied.
"Go ahead, Araxsi. But first, I need to know how the hostages are." 
Klaxos replied.
"All are alive. So far we have limited casualties by use of heavy 
stun. Their health now depends on you." 
Klaxos glanced at Nogura, who nodded.
"State your demands, Araxsi." Klaxos requested.
"The release of four prisoners held illegally by the federation for 
political reasons. They are to be provided full unconditional pardons 
by the appropriate authorities and provided with their own warp 
powered shuttles. The hostages will be released when I have 
personally spoken to all four prisoners." The voice fell silent. 
Klaxos thought carefully, considering the problems this would 
generate.
"This will take some time to arrange, Araxsi." Klaxos finally 
ventured. "What are the names of these prisoners?"
Four names were provided. One caused both Nogura and Klaxos to wince.
"Pakrak Sish is a Romulan spy." Nogura whispered to Blakeney so that 
his voice would not be picked up by Araxsi. Even so, Klaxos frowned. 
"This will take some time to look into, Araxsi." Klaxos pointed out 
to the female terrorist. "We need proof that you will not harm the 
hostages. Before you arrived a young woman was being helped from the 
room, I believe she needs medical treatment.  It would be very 
helpful if you released her."
There was a short laugh over the communications.
"I can give you better than that." Araxsi told him. "We are now on 
visual."
Klaxos looked at his lieutenant who nodded.
"Putting on your console now, sir."
Klaxos, Nogura and Blakeney surrounded the console. The picture 
focused on Picard, alone on the dais. Blakeney whistled under his 
breath turning to the officer manning the comms. 
"Cut the audio." he demanded. When the lieutenant nodded Blakeney 
pointed to Picard's chest.
"Computer, magnify picture."
Blakeney stabbed at Picard's chest. 
"Look, he's been shot. See that small hole, it's bleeding."
"What are they hoping to accomplish by this?" Nogura wondered aloud.
Klaxos shook his head. "The captain doesn't look too good. Yes, Lt. 
Scott?" he asked the officer who had suddenly looked up from his 
position alarmed.
"Sir, these pictures are being broadcast on several frequencies now. 
The media are already commenting on the significance of these 
pictures."
"Damn." Blakeney thundered.  "Picard's a hero to many in Starfleet 
and as the honorary speaker this year his name is known across the 
federation."
"Lt. Scott. Patch me through to Araxsi."
"Araxsi. What is the point of this?" Klaxos demanded. "It will not 
help negotiations. I demand you release Captain Picard immediately."
"On the contrary, Klaxos." Araxsi replied silkily. "Picard provides 
you with a time limit. You have precisely one Earth hour in which to 
show proof that our demands are met. If by that time satisfaction has 
not been provided then a nuclear device embedded in Picard's heart 
will be detonated wiping out this conference and much of the 
surrounding area. To prevent unnecessary prevarication Picard will 
suffer the neuronic whip once every ten minutes starting now."
To their horror a green glow briefly illuminated the screen, a 
snaking coil of energy caressing Picard's exposed and naked back. His 
anguished cry carried over the outburst of protests from the 
hostages. Shouting could be heard, and there were a few flashes of 
light before all went quiet. Nothing was visible except Picard's 
shaking body, his chest heaving to drag some air into his lungs. 
"What's happening, Araxsi?" Klaxos yelled. 
"No one is harmed, Klaxos. We anticipated trouble and have suppressed 
it. Several hostages will have blinding headaches, that's all. Be as 
quick as you can. Araxsi out." 
The picture disappeared. Klaxos looked across to Lt. Scott.
"All signals have ceased, sir. Your own conversation with the 
terrorists was on a secure line, however everything else has been 
picked up live by the media."
"Anyway to stop the media broadcasting?" Blakeney asked. Lt. Scott 
shook his head.
"Too late, sir."
Klaxos tapped his communicator pinned to his uniform.
"Commander Vadoi."
There was a short pause before Vadoi responded.
"Vadoi here."
"Vadoi, Lt. Scott will provide you with some names. Identify their 
current location, most likely penal institutions, and get me an 
immediate line to their commanding officer and to the governments of 
whatever planets they are on."
He signed off and turned to Blakeney and Nogura. 
"Let's go to my temporary office here." he suggested pointing the 
way. Before following he turned to Lt. Scott. "Get me everything we 
have on the Araxsi and a voice analysis of their negotiator."
"Sir." Scott interrupted him. "Commander Harcan reports his team are 
ready to move in on your command."
Klaxos thought carefully, suppressing his natural instincts to sort 
this affair out quickly. He shook his head.
"Tell him to stand by." he ordered. The Lieutenant was already 
repeating the order to his conn as Klaxos turned to leave the room.

In the reception hall, several hostages were dragging stunned 
colleagues away from the tables. Araxsi had decided that there was 
too much confusion to deal with amongst the obstructing tables and 
had ordered the move. Dr. Crusher was checking pulses and pupils to 
ensure no one was in any real danger. The stun had been light this 
time, she noted. Admiral Lowndon was still unconscious, she would 
have preferred him in sickbay. Riker was already stirring. He groaned 
and Crusher knelt beside him.
"My head." he mumbled massaging his temples with this fingers. 
"Do you feel sick?" Crusher asked him, helping him to sit up. 
"A little." Riker admitted. His eyes opened suddenly as his full 
memory returned. "The captain. Is he all right?"
"I don't know. He's alive but I haven't been able to check him over." 
Riker observed Picard, he was patently in pain, his brain unable to 
absorb the damage done to his neural network, muscles twitching as a 
result. 
"Scum." Riker muttered looking round. At least fifteen starfleet 
officers and two members of the Council, he noted, had attempted to 
storm the dais when Picard had been struck by that venomous 
instrument of torture. They had barely moved two meters before a 
blanket of energy had stunned them all senseless to the floor. Riker 
conceded that the terrorists had full command and knew exactly what 
they were doing.
"What about Deanna?" he asked Crusher. 
"She's beginning to stir. I'll keep an eye on her."
"Will the Captain be all right?" he asked her anxiously. 
Crusher shook her head. "I'm not really sure." she admitted, clearly 
worried. Anxious green eyes studied him. "Will. I'm certain he won't 
survive an hour of this."
Riker looked behind her at the female terrorist who had named herself 
Araxsi. She stopped beside them, her face still hidden by her mask. 
Her hand carried a thin pouch that she handed to the doctor. Crusher 
opened it, eyes widening in relief at its contents.
"You may assist your Captain. We have no wish to kill him." Araxsi 
told her. Despite her words the tone was cool but Crusher needed no 
urging. Riker watched her cross to Picard and begin scanning him with 
a tricorder contained in the pouch. Within seconds she had started to 
administer treatment.
He turned his attention to Araxsi who stood silently nearby.
"Why?" he asked her, his tone clearly despising. 
"Quiet." She told him, threatening him briefly with her weapon. One 
of her cohort joined her.
"Keep your eye on him." Araxsi commanded him, indicating Riker. "He's 
too foolhardy for his own good."
Riker narrowed his eyes as Araxsi moved away. Perhaps he was, he 
thought, to have attempted his charge at the terrorist who had 
wielded that whip, but to do nothing would have been worse. 
Frustration gnawed at him. Where was security he asked himself for 
the hundredth time.
It did not matter that he knew from academy classes on terrorism that 
attempts to directly attack hostage takers were only undertaken as a 
last resort once the situation had been fully assessed. Amateur 
hijacks were often resolved by quick and unexpected action and those 
prepared to martyr themselves for their cause were usually unstable 
and therefore less efficient. Professional terrorists were treated 
entirely differently and their threats taken very seriously. Riker 
had no doubt that this group fell into the latter category.
The Federation's policy on terrorism was not to give way. Rarely, 
Riker thought, had the stakes been so high with so many important 
members of Starfleet Command and the Council present tonight. 
The terrorists were gradually herding the stunned hostages back to 
their seats as the effects began to wear off. His guard ordered him 
to move and carefully regaining his feet Riker obediently made his 
way back.
Troi was conscious, being tended to by Alana Tollamn, a Council 
member who had been seated next to Riker.
"She's awake." Alana told him immediately, "but very disorientated." 
He nodded his thanks.
"Will." Troi whispered as he took her hand. "Is that you?" Riker knew 
that the betazoid could always sense his presence. She called him 
amzadi in private, which for betazoids indicated a unique and close 
relationship. Betazoids were telepathic, Deanna Troi was half human, 
and her telepathic abilities limited. Her skills though as an empath 
were very strong and had strongly influenced her in her choice of 
career in Starfleet. Troi was one of Starfleet's finest ship 
counselors. Riker too valued her highly, having once shared a close 
relationship with her. Just friends now, the memories they shared 
still bonded them closely.
"I'm here beside you." he reassured her.
"Pain, such pain." Troi moaned.
Riker frowned. 
"Is it your stomach?" he asked. Troi shook her head, lifting it to 
look at him, deep black haunted eyes were shadowed and hollow.
"No. Someone else. I know him. Too much pain." 
Riker glanced at Picard. Crusher was dabbing some water on his lips.
"They're being cared for." he told Troi. "You must protect yourself." 
His concern mounted at the anguish she showed. He grabbed her arms 
and shook her to get her attention.
"What are you doing?" Alana protested. Riker ignored her.
"Deanna, you must put your shields up. That's an order, Counselor." 
Riker insisted, putting on his best officer command voice.
To his relief, Troi suddenly relaxed, the starkness in her face 
eased. Alana smiled sudden understanding.
Troi looked at him with increased comprehension. 
"Thank you." Already her eyes were closing, fatigue taking over now 
the pain she could feel had diminished.
Riker let her lean against him and she was asleep in a moment.
"That's a relief." Alana told him. "The best thing she could have 
right now."
Riker nodded. Crusher was being escorted back to her seat, her pouch 
retained by Picard's guard.
"He's all right for the moment." she informed them before Riker had a 
chance to ask. "His neural connections are still confused. I estimate 
a nine minute recovery time, but each new disruption will increase 
that. If this goes on for an hour I'm worried that his mind will be 
permanently damaged beyond even surgical help."
"It's nearly eight minutes now." Riker noted, glancing at the 
chronometer.
Crusher nodded.
"We have to do something." she urged.
Alana shook her head. "I'm sure Security Chief Klaxos is doing all he 
can. Our making the situation more complicated might prove 
counterproductive." she argued.
Riker nodded. "I tend to agree with the councilor. This group is very 
efficient and superbly armed. I don't think we have seen everything 
available to them yet."
"My dear". Alana consoled the doctor. "So far no one has actually 
been killed. I believe that's a good sign."
Crusher sighed. "I hope you are right, Councilor, but I don't 
understand their motives towards Captain Picard. That nuclear device 
in his heart is no gesture of goodwill believe me."
Riker looked round. Until now conversation had been very limited but 
the terrorists had seemed to relax slightly and there were huddles of 
hostages talking quietly all around them.
"How much damage could it inflict?" he asked.
Crusher shook her head.
"I'm no weapons expert, except from a medical point of view but I 
estimate enough to destroy at least this city."
Araxsi appeared behind them.
"Enough talking." she ordered placing her weapon against Riker's 
ear. "Ten minutes is up." she told him. "Try not to interfere this 
time. It's my aim to get us all through this alive. You and your 
fellow heroes are not making that any easier."
Riker glared at her.
"I'll try to bear that in mind." he replied coldly. Araxsi nodded and 
removed her weapon from his head.
"Good." 
Leaving them the terrorist joined the guards that had formed a 
prohibitive circle around the group of hostages. There was a brief 
moment of suspense.
"Proceed." Araxsi ordered loudly.

The President of the United Federation of Planets finally tore his 
eyes from the console on his desk on which he had listened to the 
terrorists' demands and their subsequent punishment of a Starfleet 
officer. A polite but insistent cough interrupted his somber thoughts 
and he looked at the three men who sat before his desk.
The President knew Federation Chief of Security Klaxos was a 
formidable man. Nogura too was possibly the most able, intelligent 
man in Federation service, his skills masked by his generally relaxed 
attitude. Tom Blakeney he knew most well, being his personal aide and 
chief of staff. 
No one got to see the President without Blakeney's approval. Whatever 
these three had to say the president knew they would be in agreement. 
All they required now was his rubber stamp of approval that he would 
no doubt provide once their case had been presented.
"Well gentlemen?" he invited.
Tom Blakeney spoke immediately.
"Mr. President. With the exception of Klaxos' conversation with the 
terrorist we will, for simplicities sake, call Araxsi, the rest of 
what you have just reviewed has been broadcast to the majority of 
Federation planets. Already several members or deputy members of the 
Council are demanding that Federation policy on terrorism is not 
compromised by the profile of the hostages concerned. However, the 
majority of public and political opinion has been swayed by the 
persons involved, notably Captain Picard. His exploits are well known 
and there is a swelling of support for his position. There is also 
the morale of Starfleet to consider, to lose a vast number of 
Starfleet command, not to mention the Federation Council members 
involved, would be a heavy blow to the Federation."
"Hmm." the President conceded. "Picard is a particularly clever card 
these terrorists have thrown on the table. As this years honorary 
speaker his fate is of considerable interest. I agree we cannot 
afford to let him down but dumping policy could ultimately harm us 
worse in years to come. I'm surprised by your attitude on this, Tom."
Intelligence Head Trantor Nogura shifted his huge bulk in his 
slightly too small chair.
"Sir. These terrorists are holding to ransom our most senior and 
finest officers. The loss to Starfleet would be considerable, 
impairing its ability to serve the Federation effectively in the 
short term."
"Are you advising me to give way to these terrorists?" asked the 
President, the inflection of his tone clearly displaying surprise at 
the direction this interview was taking. He watched them look at one 
another. As a group they were possibly the most powerful in the 
Federation with the exception of the President himself.
Nogura continued.
"Mr. President. We are hopeful that we have an agent who is working 
on this matter."
Nogura paused as the president glared balefully at them. 
"I hope you are not telling me you had warning of this outrage." the 
President probed.
"No. Sir." Nogura maintained his calm explanation. "But we did 
receive warning that an operation like this was planned and security 
was tightened as a result. Clearly not enough as we now see."
"But." he continued as the President looked set to interrupt. "Our 
agent has alerted us that this attack is part of a larger plot that 
will threaten the Federation even more." Nogura paused to take breath.
"Go on. Don't stop now." urged the President. "And don't forget time 
is running out."
"We have no further details at this time. Only that this agent is 
highly respected and trusted. One of our best." 
The President knew better than to ask the agent's name. At best he 
would be given a code name, probably not even an accurate one he 
thought cynically. Nogura was incredibly protective of his agents in 
the field.
"You want to let this one go then." he surmised. "Let your agent 
track down the major threat. What if this agent is wrong and we are 
seen to give way to terrorism when it threatens close to home." 
Klaxos added his weight to the discussion.
"This is not an easy decision we ask you to make Mr. President. But 
we will do our best to ensure that terrorism is not seen to work."
"And Picard? What do you believe the Araxsi intentions are for him?" 
the President persisted.
"I do not know, Sir." Klaxos replied. "but I consider it vital that 
we find out more about this organization. These terrorists are our 
only lead. We can track the political prisoners too. See where that 
takes us."
Blakeney interjected.
"Mr. President. If we put our agents into the field we must put some 
faith in them. We have ignored intelligence reports to our peril 
before."
The President sat back in his seat.
"Well, when all three of you are in agreement it would be a foolish 
man that ignored you. Very well. Let this run its natural course on 
one condition. The Federation must not be seen to keel over to 
terrorism. Thank you Gentlemen. Keep me informed."

In the reception hall Riker studied the Araxsi leader pacing up and 
down. The terrorists were getting nervous he decided. Araxsi was 
clearly concerned with the effect the neuronic beatings were having 
on Picard, more so than Riker would have thought possible. The 
terrorist leader had allowed Crusher permanent access to the captain 
to give medical aid, to the clear displeasure of the bulky terrorist 
who had been meting out the punishment. Riker had observed a heated 
discussion between them, one Araxsi appeared to have won. The 
atmosphere since had been tense, nerves were starting to fray among 
terrorists and hostages alike.
Riker knew this could not go on much longer.
Araxsi strode to the dais once more to consult Dr. Crusher. Before 
she reached the doctor the communicator on her tunic chimed and 
Araxsi responded instantly. Unlike the previous conversations this 
one was conducted quietly. Finally, Araxsi signaled Picard's guard to 
release him. Slowly the ceiling bolt released the length of chain 
until the steel rings around Picard's bleeding wrists could be 
removed. 
Under Dr. Crusher's supervision Picard was lowered unconscious to the 
floor. His body was still, the drugs Crusher had given him had 
obviously had some effect.
Araxsi spoke something that caused the doctor to object. Frowning, 
Riker watched her return to her seat. 
"What's happening?" he whispered to her.
"I'm not sure, but I'd guess their demands have been met." Crusher 
replied.
"That means they need to make their escape." Riker surmised.
Gently he shook Troi by her shoulder.
"Deanna. Wake up." he urged the sleeping counselor, her head resting 
on the table. She stirred, lifting her head.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her. 
She nodded, looking round. 
"Better. What's been happening?"
"I'll fill you in later. Tell me what you can feel."
Troi got his gist and looked round, her expression concentrated. 
Immediately she frowned.
"What's happened to Captain Picard?" she asked urgently.
"Ignore that. Anything else?" Puzzled Troi focused her attention 
again.
"A sense of expectation." she described. "Immediately around us it is 
uncertainty that I feel most strongly. But over there." Troi 
indicated the terrorists. "it is more sure. Whatever is to happen I 
believe it is imminent."
The terrorists were definitely preparing themselves. Picard's 
tormentor and the smaller guard had lifted him to his feet, 
supporting his body weight easily between them. Riker narrowed his 
eyes and certainty hit him like a thunderbolt.
"They're not going to leave the captain." he stated.
"What?" Crusher exclaimed under her breath.
"Look at them." Riker persisted. Starfleet officers around them were 
coming to the same conclusions. An angry murmur began to build up.
Two male officers of admiral rank on the table nearest to Picard and 
the terrorists began to launch themselves towards the helpless 
captain. His heart beating rapidly Riker threw caution to the winds 
and began to thread his way through the tables, his eyes fixed 
solidly on the female terrorist. As hostages threw themselves out of 
his way, Riker knew he would be too late. Araxsi watched his progress 
dispassionately, the two officers nearing them were just two meters 
away when the group including Picard shimmered away to leave empty 
space. With no one to block their headlong rush the two admirals 
crashed into the wall, Riker arriving just behind them. In seconds 
the reception doors blew wide open in a muffled explosion, followed 
by a storm of security guards rushing through the jagged hole that 
remained.
Riker ran to the first security officer through the doors, raising 
his arms.
"Commander Riker of the Starship Enterprise." he identified himself 
rapidly. "You've just missed them. They've just transported out of 
here."
The security detachment's commanding officer absorbed this 
information. "Harcon to Control. The terrorists have just transported 
out. Repeat. The terrorists have just transported out."
"They've taken Captain Picard with them." Riker persisted.
"Did you get that Control? Captain Picard is still a hostage." Harcon 
repeated Riker's message  to be sure.
"Affirmative, Commander. The Enterprise is conducting full sensor 
sweeps of this sector. We'll find them." Control replied.
"How could they transport out of here?" Riker demanded. Harcon did 
not reply at once, glancing round his team instead. Satisfied he 
turned his attention back to Riker. 
"Commander Riker. We do not know how they transported in yet, let 
alone how they managed to get out. We suspect a device has been 
planted somewhere in Earth's sensor network. The network has been 
feeding misinformation. We are heavily reliant on our spaceships in 
orbit to detect where the source of the transport is."
Riker took a deep breath. "I want to get back to the Enterprise."
"I'm sorry, Commander. My orders are to ensure all the hostages are 
interviewed and receive a complete medical check up."
"I'm fine." Riker objected. "I can't just sit down here."
"Frankly, Commander Riker. Helping federation security build up a 
complete profile of The Araxsi will prove of considerable more help 
than anything you can do on your ship. We have utmost confidence in 
Lt. Commander Data to do whatever is necessary."
Surek appeared beside them.
"Commander Riker. The officer's right. Let Security get on with their 
job."
Harcon's communicator bleeped. He tapped it open.
"Harcon here."
"Commander, this is Security Chief Klaxos. I've been informed of 
Commander Riker's request. Please inform the Commander that the 
situation is being dealt with. He will be fully briefed as I have 
more information. Everything will be done to secure Captain Picard's 
safe return. Klaxos out."
Admiral Surek raised a Vulcan eyebrow.
"You are honored Commander Riker. Klaxos is not renowned for going 
out of his way for anyone."
Harcon beckoned an officer. "Lieutenant. Please escort Admiral Surek 
and Commander Riker to the briefing lounge."
Riker lifted his hands demurring.
"I would rather join the rest of my crew." he said indicating 
Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher.
Harcon nodded and the lieutenant led the Admiral away.
Riker crossed the room where Troi was almost looking her old self 
after receiving a much welcomed hypo spray of painkiller and a 
combatant drug to counteract the remaining poison in her system.
"Any news of Jean-Luc?" Dr. Crusher asked immediately.
Riker shook his head.
"No. Apparently the Enterprise is involved in a sensor search of this 
sector of space. How are you feeling Deanna?" he asked kindly.
"I'm fine. Thank you." Troi replied, "Beverly has been filling me in. 
This is terrible."
Riker patted her shoulder in sympathy. 
Commander Harcon reappeared at Riker's shoulder, his expression 
conveying he was the bearer of grave news.
"I'm sorry. Commander Riker. There has been an explosion in space, it 
is believed to be the terrorist's escape vessel. There is no chance 
of any survivors but a search is being carried out."
Riker could barely begin to digest this sudden unexpected information.
"What was the nature of the explosion?" Dr. Crusher asked slowly.
Commander Harcon hesitated. "A nuclear explosion, Doctor. There seems 
little question that it was Captain Picard. I am very sorry...If 
you'll excuse me." 
Crusher nodded absently and Harcon considerately moved away leaving 
the three remaining officers from the Enterprise in complete and 
stunned silence.
TBC





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