Riker and Geordi resumed their musical mission, arriving at Worf's cabin in time to hear a ba.s.so profundo bleat. Something like a forty-foot sheep jabbed with an electric prod.

Riker looked horrified. "You sure about this, LaForge?"

"He's just tuning up. Don't worry. I told you, I've never heard anything like this instrument."

Another blaaaaaat, slightly higher in pitch.

"Tuning up?"

"Don't you want this combo to sound original?"

"Sure, but I still want it to sound like jazz."

Riker's brow wrinkled doubtfully. "Okay, let's get this over with."

Geordi answered with a wide grin. "That's the spirit."

"When in Rome..." Picard shrugged. He and his companions got to their feet but didn't join in the ovation with which the Thiopan celebrants greeted their sovereign protector on his grand entrance into the feast hall. "Feast" appeared to be the right word for the celebration after all. By Data's estimate, there were 2,836 people in the ma.s.sive hall. Judging by their enthusiastic reaction to Stross's appearance, they were all partisans of the beleaguered government. The applause went on and on as spotlights and laser beams danced across the long dais where Ruer Stross waved clenched fists over his head and savored the adulation.

"Quite a spectacle," Picard said to Troi, bending close to her ear to make himself heard over the cheering. "I think this level of revelry far exceeds the morale-building threshold you suggested.

They're well past the point of ostentation."

Troi nodded. "Do you think they lied to the Federation about this famine?" "I don't know. If so, did they really think they'd get away with it?" Data leaned closer to them. "Their ecological problems are quite apparent, sir, and more than severe enough to contribute to an extreme food shortage." "This celebration hardly reflects the restraint one would expect from the leaders of a world whose inhabitants are threatened with starvation. Just look at all those groaning boards of food waiting to be served."

"This wouldn't be the first time that leaders have exhibited bad judgment," Troi pointed out.

Picard snorted. "Let them eat cake?"

"Cake?" said Data, scanning the hall. "I do not see any baked goods."

"It's an expression from earth history, late seventeen hundreds, the French Revolution."

"M, yes," Data said. "Your ancestral land, sir. Marie Antoinette, queen of France and wife of King Louis the Sixteenth, was popularly believed to have said "Let them eat cake' in response to a critical shortage of bread. That attribution was never confirmed, however."

"That's not the point, Data," Troi said patiently. "The French n.o.bility lived extravagantly while the rest of the people endured poverty. Cruel indifference 65 on the part of leaders has contributed to many revolutions throughout history."

"Do you think that's what we're facing here?"

Picard asked her. "It's a possibility, sir," Troy said, "but it would be very difficult to isolate an admission like that from anyone in this group, especially now, when they're so excited about this anniversary celebration."

"All the more reason for us to meet tomorrow with Stross and Ootherai."

The ovation finally subsided and the diners took their seats again. An army of waiters began circulating with rolling carts and fine silver trays, all heavily laden with food. The Enterprise officers were seated at a small private table in a front corner of the vast hall. A waiter served them almost immediately, setting before them bowls overflowing with fruit.

"Generous," Troi noted. "If the Thiopans really are starving, I feel a little guilty about gorging myself."

"We've got four shiploads of food up in orbit, Deanna," said Picard. "If we do our job, those hungry mouths will be fed ... for a while at least."

"It's tuned," Worf intoned. He cradled his chuS'ugh in the crook of one arm. The instrument, which was made of dark, dull-finished wood, had a pear-shaped soundbox about two feet high. Its wide base rested on Worf's thigh. At the tapered upper tip was a small air grate. A short bridge with four thick strings of coiled steel was set at an odd angle against the instrument's midsection. In his other hand, the Klingon gripped a stubby bow. To Riker, who had visited many different worlds 66 and sampled numerous alien cultures, this was without doubt the strangest musical instrument he'd ever seen. He extended a tentative finger toward the strings. "May I?"

Worf nodded. Riker plucked the thinnest stringthe thickest was nearly as big around as his little finger. A tone came out of the soundhole low on the instrument's belly-pleasantly mellow, to his surprise-but that was overwhelmed a second later by a bra.s.sy dissonance howling from the grate at the top.

Riker's hand jerked back by reflex, as if he'd been burned. "What the h.e.l.l was that?"

Worf almost smiled. "Harmony."

"All right, Worf." Riker leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "As they used to say in the old days, "lay some sounds on me.""

The Klingon gave Geordi a hesitant glance. "He means play," Geordi a.s.sured him.

With an incongruous flourish, Worf stretched his bowing arm, positioned the bow across the strings, and began sawing at them while pressing the strings with his other hand. Riker winced at the noise that carne out-harsh, clashing, ponderous, and low enough to make the floor shake. "Pick up the tempo," Geordi shouted.

After about two minutes, which were among the longest in Riker's life, Worf stopped.

"That's-uhdistinctive, Worf. How long have you been playing?" "Since childhood-this very same instrument. I grew up among humans, as you know, but my parents wanted me to learn about my own culture, too. They paid a lot of money for this chuS'ugh, then realized there was no one who could teach me to play it. They finally found a computer lesson program. Not as good as a live teacher-was "He's too modest," said Geordi seriously, "but he turned out to be a natural. So-what d'you think?"

They both looked at Riker, who wanted nothing more than to make his escape. Hoping his feelings didn't show in his eyes, he furiously tried to formulate an answer that wouldn't offend the very large Klingon warrior who'd just bared the artistic corner of his soul, at Geordi's urging. The first officer's mouth opened, but no words came out. Think fast, Riker ... "Well, it's not what I expected," he said at last. "I don't know what I expected. I've never heard Klingon music before."

"Isn't there a saying, "Close enough for jazz"?" Geordi prodded. "Yes-yes, there is. I'm just not sure this is close enough for jazz.

I'm not underestimating your talent, Worf. G.o.d knows, I couldn't play that thing. What kind of piece was that anyway?"

"A Klingon cla.s.sic." Worf's face remained impa.s.sive, but his eyes revealed a mixture of disappointment, pride, and hurt. "You didn't like it."

"To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of it."

They both turned to Geordi, who tried to save the situation. "Hey, it'll grow on you, Commander."

Riker backed toward the doors, which obligingly slid open. "I'll get back to you."

"Maybe it just needs some accompaniment,"

Geordi called after him. "Maybe," Riker called back. Then the door closed.

"Don't worry, Worf. I like your music.

I'll talk to Commander Riker later. Meanwhile, maybe we 68 should work on your stage presence-y'know, a little chatter between songs," Geordi said brightly.

"Humans wouldn't know good music if it knocked them over," Worf grumbled. "They'd rather listen to feeble imitations of mewling infants." He gently laid the instrument back in its-molded case.

The bowls of fruit were just the first of five courses served at the anniversary banquet. By the time dessert arrived-multi-layered platters of pastries-Picard felt more than a bit stuffed. As he surveyed the huge hall, the image of fatted calves ready for slaughter darted into his mind. The evening meal left no doubt that Thiopan cuisine was excellent, but hadn't yet provided a shred of illumination as to what was really going on here on this planet. The important announcement that Stross had hinted at had yet to be made; maybe that would contain at least a nugget or two of information Picard could use to start piecing this puzzle together.

He sampled a tasty spiral crust with a perfect chiffon filling. So far, in the half-day since the Enterprise had approached Thiopan s.p.a.ce, they'd been fired on by Nuarans, had a brush with Thiopan terrorists, taken their first disconcerting measure of the extent of ecological damage on the planet, and weathered repeated petulance on the part of the Federation envoy, Frid Undrun.

After finishing the pastry, Picard licked his fingertips and noticed Troi staring at him. "Something on your mind, Counselor?" His tone was more brittle than he had intended. Not that it mattered; it was rather hard to hide moody undercurrents from an empath sitting eighteen inches away.

"You seem tense, Captain."

His stoic features rippled in resignation.

"It's been a Murphy's Law kind of day. I fully expect it to end with a Ferengi waiter scuttling out here to serve us poisoned coffee."

Up on the dais, Protector Stross had begun to speak. "I'm not going to bore you with a long speech," he said to a twitter of appreciative laughter. "I do have an announcement, though. Something big. Or I wouldn't tear you away from those desserts."

"He has a natural charm," Troi whispered.

"It is understandable that Thiopans would have accepted his rule for so long."

"You all know," Stross went on, "that we've had some problems lately. Our planet is hot, it's dry, some people are going hungry. But we'll soon change all that. And I want to introduce the scientist who's making that change possible-the head of our Science Council, Dr.

Kael Keat."

The young woman swung gracefully out of her chair and joined her leader at the lectern as the audience clapped politely. Picard wondered at the lack of enthusiasm. Was it possible that these people didn't know who Keat was, or had the excitement been lulled out of them by a night of overeating?

"Thank you," said Keat. "All the bounty we've enjoyed tonight must be made available to every Thiopan, not just the ones lucky enough to come to this feast. Soon we'll have a way to make that dream come true. Never again will we be at the mercy of shifting winds, unpredictable rain, scorching heat, and deadly cold. Never again will we be made to feel like our primitive ancestors, cowering before forces we can't understand. The Science Council is ready to unveil a project that will make us stronger than nature-a weather control shield that will solve our environmental problems for all eternity." Because of her low-key delivery, it took several moments for her meaning to sink in. Then the crowd began to murmur and the murmur grew into a rumble of sustained applause that soon spread across the hall like a wave.

"In ten years' time," Kael Keat said, her voice still tranquil, "we'll make Thiopa a temperate paradise." The applause broke out again, longer and louder now.

After a minute, Stross signaled for attention.

"That's our goal, my friends," he said. "But first, we have to unite this world and all her people-one mind, one goal, one faith." The crowd had fallen silent.

Stross spoke with simple intensity. "Harmony.

That's what we need. No more squabbling over old ways or new ways. Let's just take the best way. Once we have achieved Fusion, we'll be strong enough to take on the one enemy that really can kill us allnature. With your help, I know we can do whatever needs doing. Thank you, my friends." The ruler of Thiopa ended his speech with his head bowed in humility.

And the members of the audience jumped to their feet as if programmed to do so. By comparison, the welcoming ovation they'd given to Stross at the start of the evening had been restrained. Now the great hall exploded with a fervor that was equal parts religion and l.u.s.t.

These people were True Believers, Picard realized as he and his officers stood at their table without joining in.

Data's head swiveled in birdlike movements as he watched in wonderment. "The degree of arousal is most interesting."

"It is all a matter of knowing the right things to say to the right people," said Troi. "That is part of what makes a good leader."

"Or a dangerous leader," Picard added.

Troi nodded, suddenly apprehensive.

"Captain, I do sense danger."

"What kind of danger?"

Before she could explain, one of the Thiopan waiters scrambled past their table and flipped it over, splattering food on people and walls. Picard grabbed Troi as they fell back across their toppled chairs. Startled guests fell silent as suddenly as if a plug had been pulled when the lone server leaped on top of another table and unfurled a banner.

"You're eating well while babies starve in the Endrayan Realm-because this corrupt government wants them to starve! Their only crime is that their parents refuse to sell their heritage in return for food that's rightfully theirs! They refuse to surrender to the genocide you call Fusion! There's plenty of food for all Thiopans, but Stross won't let those babies have it. Why?" He whirled to stare right at Stross. "Why, Sovereign Protector? The Sojourners will never accept Fusion. Join us and save Thiopa! Join Stross and our world dies! Please-was His speech ended in the piercing whine of a blaster beam. Picard jerked his head toward the source of the terrible sound and saw three guards firing, their blue bolts knocking the man off his makeshift podium.

By the time he hit the floor, he was dead, his chest smoking where the beams burned through his clothing.

Will Riker pulled off his boots and flopped back on his bed, undecided about whether to read or listen to music. He felt too tired to read- "Commander Riker, this is Lieutenant White on the bridge."

Riker rolled toward the intercom screen next to his bed.

"This is Riker." White's freckled face appeared on the viewer. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sir. Captain Picard and the away team are beaming back up. He wants you to meet them in the bridge conference lounge."

"On my way. Riker out."

By the time he reached the bridge, Picard and the others were already waiting for him. He strode into the lounge and stopped short when he saw food and drink stains dotting their uniforms. "Those Thiopans must throw wild parties."

Picard paced in front of the wall of windows on the outside bulkhead. Thiopa shone brightly below, the light from its sun bouncing off the thick layer of clouds and pollution shrouding the planet. "Sit down, Number One." "You sure you three don't want to change first?"

"It looks worse than it is. I want to do this as quickly as possible, then get some sleep." With no more preface than that, Picard launched into a terse report of the anniversary celebration. Then he sat down at the end of the table.

Riker's mouth quirked in disbelief. "The security people shot this protester just for shouting and waving a banner?"

"A rather extreme punishment," Picard agreed, steepling his fingers. "Did you sense anything, Counselor?" She sighed before replying, obviously trying to sort out the emotions she'd absorbed during the brief but violent incident.

"Terror, determination-and great anger."

"From whom?"

"From everyone around us."

"I understand," Picard said, his expression grim.

"The Sojourners are clearly a longtime thorn in the government's side."

"Yet," Data pointed out, "in spite of the importance of the storage facility and the anniversary feast, the Sojourners managed to breach security in both instances. Security that was most likely more stringent than usual." "Both those breaches proved highly embarra.s.sing to the government," Picard said.

"The Sojourners gained little else. But they were evidently determined to let us know of their existence, and their determination."

"Still," Troi said, "all we know about their cause are slogans spoken by an apparent terrorist and a protester before they were executed. Unless we can find out more, we have no way of knowing if their grievances against the government are valid."

"They're valid to the Sojourners," Picard said. "They're willing to die for their cause-whatever it may be."

"Do these incidents otherwise affect our basic mission to Thiopa?" Data wondered.

Picard spread his hands in uncertainty. "A good question, Data. We're not permitted to interfere in this world's internal quarrels. But if Thiopa proves unstable, the Federation may have to look elsewhere in this sector for an ally against the Ferengi."

"But we don't have to make that decision, Captain," Riker said, "just a recommendation."

"Exactly-but we may have to make a decision on whether to complete our mercy mission or abort it."

Troi's large eyes grew concerned.