"Will do, Captain Fesnerkall. Thank you again. Picard out." To Worf, he said, "Cut our speed to match theirs once we rendezvous, Lieutenant-but be ready to kick her in the tail if we need to get out of here quickly."

"Aye, sir."

Data rose from his seat at the science station. "Captain," he said, "I have completed the new DNA comparison, as ordered. The Lethanta definitely evolved on 30452 FAS Three. They are from there, sir."

"Ah. Thank you, Mr. Data," Picard said. "So that world was perhaps a 'last stand' as well."

"And someone blasted the Lethanta off it a very long time ago," Troi added. "Six thousand years."

The captain nodded. "We had better find out exactly what occurred," he said. "Fantastic as it seems, whoever did it to them may be around still."

Nemtar Ship Commander, the disgraced captain of the equally disgraced Krann scanner ship JTO-52D, was standing in the prisoner dock located in a small chamber that was the traditional venue of Fleet courts-martial. Nemtar was brightly lighted by a spot beam set into the ceiling directly above his head. The rest of the room was in darkness. He could hear but not see his accusers. Once in a while, Nemtar could hear one of his otherwise silent judges cough or stir. That provided him data. It amused Nemtar in what were probably the last moments of his life to a.n.a.lyze what he was perceiving, the way he had been trained to do nearly since birth. From the small aural cues he was getting, Nemtar decided that there were five people sitting about three meters in front of him in a shallow semicircle. As it happened, he was exactly right.

There was a handrail there in front of him, designed to be gripped by the nervous and the afraid. The metal of the rail was polished at those two points where one's hands were most likely to be placed. Nemtar ignored it. He stood easily, outwardly relaxed, his hands clasped behind him as if this proceeding were nothing more significant than a standard lecture on air purification.

Nemtar would probably meet his death today. There was nothing to be done about that, and he accepted the fact.

But he could still try to save his ship.

Presider Hek himself was chairing this board. That was a sure measure of how angry he was. "It was not hard to extrapolate the incoming course of the alien ship, once it was finally spotted by units stationed near the orbit of Ma'ak Unselbe," he said, continuing his interrogation of Nemtar. "That ship traveled right through your watch area undetected. All six hundred uncloaked meters of it just slipped by you within seventy-two thousand kilometers of your position. Now just how did you and your people manage to miss a thing like that?"

"There was no indication of the presence of the alien ship in our watch sector, Presider," Nemtar Ship Commander replied calmly. "The sudden appearance of the ship near Ma'ak Unselbe registered on our long-range detectors, as my report indicates. The instant it appeared on our sensor boards, I immediately issued a level-one advisory to the flagship-"

Hek interrupted him. "But by then, Nemtar, the alien ship was one hundred million kilometers sunward of the Fleet and heading straight for Nem Ma'ak Bratuna. Your alert was useless."

"You have the full transcript of what occurred during that watch, Presider," Nemtar responded. "Our equipment was operating flawlessly. My people were performing at optimum. As you will see from the transcript, the presence and condition of every single one of our own ships then operating in our watch sector was properly logged and updated throughout the watch."

The Presider was growing impatient. "The question begs, Nemtar: Why did you and your fellow wizards of detection fail to detect the presence of the alien ship until it was too late?"

"I have no facts to offer, Presider."

"I see," Hek said from the darkness. There was silence for a long moment, and then he spoke again. "Return Nemtar Ship Commander to the ... holding area."

Three guards suddenly appeared out of the darkness, their hand weapons at the ready. Nemtar nodded to them almost pleasantly and followed them out of the light and into the surrounding darkness.

The others in the star chamber heard, briefly, the echo of several sets of footsteps in the dark. Then they listened as Nemtar walked on ahead of his guards with a sure and certain stride. They heard him stop and, a moment later, there came the heavy sound of a pressure-tight door shuffing itself closed. Those in the star chamber did not hear anything as the small room behind the door was opened to the hard vacuum of s.p.a.ce.

"He was a brave man," came a new voice. "A pity he had to be remaindered."

"What do we do about his ship?" someone asked. "A Fleet enforcement scout is standing by."

"We have found no evidence of procedural errors or system failures in the transcript," a third voice observed. "Perhaps we need not go the full route this time."

"I still think these s.p.a.cings are wasteful," one of them complained. "We lose nearly four cubic meters of air every time we remainder someone, not to mention the biological material and so forth."

"Discipline must be maintained," another said sternly.

"The losses don't matter anymore, not when we're so close to our goal," yet another observed. "We'll restock."

"What will we do about Nemtar's ship?" the first one asked again.

"Have a dispatch team from the scout go aboard JTO-52D and remainder the top officers," Hek said almost absently. "No need to remainder the ship as well, given these circ.u.mstances. Rea.s.sign JTO-52D to ferry and light cargo work in the rear until we can restaff its officer complement and return the ship to normal duty. That will allow us to put one of the veteran cargo runners on the front line."

The light level in the room was brought up, and the members of the court-martial panel were able to see each other again. The five panelists were sitting behind a trial bench that curved around the prisoner dock in a gentle arc. Hek Portside Hull Patcher, currently the Presider of the Fleet Congress, was in the middle chair. Hek was a burly, middle-aged man, one who looked as if he'd spent most of his life wearing a pressure suit and working outside, which he'd done day in and day out until he entered Fleet politics. Now he was the youngest Presider in six generations.

"I wish that Nemtar had had an answer for us," Hek told his colleagues. "We need to know how that alien ship slipped by our security watch."

"The high-velocity probes will arrive at Nem Ma'ak Bratuna in a matter of hours," someone pointed out. "They have been ordered to examine the alien ship as part of their surveillance routine. We will know more about it then."

Pelaka Theoretician sighed. "We already know enough about it," the old man said. "I almost wish Nemtar Ship Commander and his people had made an error. That would have explained everything rather neatly."

"Your considered opinion of what occurred, then, Pelaka," the Presider said. "I think we've all been waiting to hear it."

Pelaka cleared his throat. "As the late ship commander just told us, Presider, I have no facts to offer you."

"The tone of your voice suggests you have more to say, though."

Pelaka nodded. "I do, Hek. I believe I could make a good guess."

"Give it to us, then."

"Very well," Pelaka said. "Our JTO-series scanner ships are equipped and personnel trained to detect everything there is to detect, see everything there is to see, and make note of it all. I believe the alien ship evaded detection because it was never really there to be detected."

"Pardon me?" The Presider rarely needed to fumble for something to say, but this was one of those times. "Of course it was there, Pelaka. It had to be."

"No, Hek, it need not have been there at all. The alien ship did not seem to appear suddenly near the orbit of Ma'ak Unselbe. It actually did do so."

The Presider laughed gently. It was a dangerous sound, and the others stirred. "How do you figure that?" he asked.

The old theoretician would not be intimidated. "We know a great deal now about this ship from our long-range observations of it," Pelaka explained. "This is a s.p.a.cecraft, a 'starship,' from an obviously technologically advanced organization called the United Federation of Planets. It is a ship of impressive size, but it is not large enough for interstellar travel-that is, interstellar travel as we know it. Not even one generation of travelers aboard it could survive a star trip."

"How do you know?" Hek asked.

"Simple, Presider. We have detected the presence of more than a thousand beings aboard the ship, yet they have with them enough consumables to last for only a few months, at best. Further, while the engines of the alien ship are of a type unknown to us, we can easily detect the extent of the ship's energy reserves. They are enormous, capable of generating almost unimaginable motive power."

"Your conclusion, then?"

"There can be only one, Presider," Pelaka said. "The alien ship is able to travel at speeds faster than light."

The others around the bench, including Hek, gasped.

"Since we know translight travel to be impossible in normal s.p.a.ce," Pelaka continued, "the aliens must travel in another kind of s.p.a.ce. Perhaps it is one that is coexistent with ours. If this is true, then the alien ship did not pa.s.s through the sector under watch by scanner ship JTO-52D at all. Instead, it decelerated and dropped back into s.p.a.ce, normal s.p.a.ce, near Ma'ak Unselbe. It then proceeded on course for Ma'ak Indawe at a quarter of the speed of light."

"A faster-than-light vessel," Hek breathed. He clenched a fist. Instinctively, he knew the old man was right. "At last."

"A wonderful thing, Presider," Pelaka said, his own eyes shining. "A miracle, to find such a ship at this historic time."

"I want that ship," said the Presider. "I want it."

Chapter Five.

J USTMAN MADE ITS FINAL APPROACH to the VIP landing pad at the s.p.a.ceport that served the Lethantan capital. The shuttlecraft's escort flew on by overhead. Captain Fesnerkall saluted the Enterprise landing party with a last waggle of his wings.

"Friendly enough," Picard said approvingly. "Good protocol. Fine sense of fitness on the part of that Fesnerkall."

Deanna Troi nodded. "I sensed nothing inimical from any of them, Captain. They were curious about us, perhaps a bit fearful, but disposed to be friendly. The other thing, the apprehension I told you about earlier, overlays all their thoughts and colors all their actions."

"The other thing is what we need to find out about," Picard observed.

"Yes," Troi replied, touching her forehead in something like weariness. "Their fear hangs over everything they think and do like a thick, dark blanket. It is suffocating them, in a way."

"Captain," Worf called. "There are people waiting for us."

Picard turned to a small viewscreen that was right at hand and dialed for the view below. Casting about, he soon found a group of perhaps thirty people standing not far from their designated landing spot.

"What do you think, Counselor?" Picard asked.

Troi pursed her lips. "There is a great deal going on among them. Their emotions are-are roiling." She paused. "The strongest feeling is coming from this one, Captain-the tall, white-haired man in the middle of the group. To him we represent salvation."

Picard nodded. "Do you have any idea of what the danger might be that these people face?"

Troi winced as she attempted to read closer.

"Are you all right, Deanna?" Picard asked, concerned.

"I'm sorry, Captain. This isn't very easy for me. Everyone here is, is keyed up about whatever this is. Tapping into it, trying to read it, is a bit uncomfortable. It's like trying-to grasp the lyric of a song by putting your ear against an output unit set at its highest volume. Whatever the danger is, they view it as both enormous-and quite nearby."

"No one else is around," Data said. "There appears to be a conflict between what Counselor Troi perceives and our appraisal of the tactical situation."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Troi observed.

"Landing now, Captain," Worf called.

"Do a nice job, Mr. Worf. They expect to be impressed."

Jemmagar, the minister for security, was perturbed. Shielding his eyes, he squinted up into the bright sky. "Is this the alien ship we've been waiting for?" he asked Kerajem, exasperated. "This tiny thing? Hardly seems worth closing off the s.p.a.ceport for it."

"It's not so very small," Kerajem said patiently. "In any case, this is what the aliens call a shuttlecraft. The mother ship is still in orbit. That one should be large enough to impress you. Really, Jemmagar, you ought to try listening to the briefing reports once in a while."

Jemmagar set his lips in a tight line. "There wasn't a great deal of time, First," he said fussily. "I've had about half an hour's sleep in the past three days. I'm afraid I was grabbing a nap in the groundcar while the driver got me here."

"Very well, Jemmagar," Kerajem said, holding up a hand. "Never mind, never mind. We've all been a little short on sleep recently."

The ministers watched as, overhead, the shuttlecraft spun smartly about and settled down slowly onto the landing pad. There was only the smallest sound as the little boat contacted the surface.

The engines died and, after a moment, the hatch opened. Captain Picard and his officers stood in the hatchway. All of them were smiling in as friendly a manner as they could manage.

"One of them is quite nonhuman," Jemmagar whispered. "He appears rather grisly."

"I wish he wouldn't try to smile like that," Kerajem whispered back.

"There's another one who looks, well, rather pale."

"They do seem disposed to be friendly."

Jemmagar snorted. "Well, I hope you're right.These people surely don't seem very concerned, considering what's going on."

"They may not feel any need to be concerned," Kerajem observed. "That might be the most hopeful sign yet."

The force of two dozen security personnel accompanying the Council of Ministers kept a discreet watch on Picard and his people as they left Justman and walked across the landing pad to the spot where Kerajem and the other ministers were waiting for them.

"Captain Picard, I presume," Kerajem said, smiling broadly. He put out a hand in the friendly manner common to many humanoid cultures, and Picard shook it.

Kerajem indicated the six men standing immediately behind him. "We of the Council of Ministers of Nem Ma'ak Bratuna extend greetings to you and your people on behalf of all the citizens of our world."

Picard smiled back pleasantly, "And I, sir, and my officers greet all of you in the name of the government and citizens of the United Federation of Planets. Thank you for your most gracious welcome. May this initial meeting be only the beginning of a long and productive relationship between our two cultures."

Kerajem nodded. "Indeed."

"Allow me, please, to introduce my colleagues," Picard continued. "This is Counselor Deanna Troi, my closest and most trusted advisor. To her left is Lieutenant Commander Data, second officer of the Enterprise, and to his left is Lieutenant Worf, our chief of security."

"I am pleased to meet all of you," Kerajem said. "If you will, Captain, allow me to present some of the other members of the Council of Ministers." Together, Kerajem and Picard walked to the head of a short receiving line formed by the seven waiting men.

The first minister was a burly, determined-looking sort. "Captain, allow me to present Presinget fes Kwaita, our minister for labor."

"Ah. A pleasure, Minister Presinget."

"The pleasure's all mine, Captain," the burly former miner replied, shaking Picard's hand with a bone-crushing grip. "Glad to meet you. Pretty exciting, you know. People don't drop in on us from outer s.p.a.ce every d.a.m.n day."

"Uh, I can imagine," the captain said.

They came to a slight, balding man. "Captain, this is Umbeltag zan Swannet, our social services minister."

"How do you do, Captain?"

"Very well, thank you, Minister. It is an honor to meet you."

The next minister was a short, fussy-seeming man. "Captain Picard," Kerajem said, "this is Jemmagar fes Kah, our minister for security."

Picard put out his hand and smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Minister Jemmagar."

Jemmagar looked at Picard for a long and impolite moment, letting the silence linger until he saw that Kerajem was gritting his teeth. "As you say, Captain, a pleasure," Jemmagar said lightly, finally giving Captain Picard's hand a quick, limp shake.