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1

During his years of service in Starfleet, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise had visited some of the most picturesque worlds of the Federation. He was one of the few humans to see the magnificent ice caves of Andoria when their stalagmites and stalactites burst into vibrant color at midday as the sun shone through the deepest fissures in the ice above. He’d felt the cool spray of the Janaran Falls on Betazed at the recommendation of his former first officer. And the beauty of Risa was matched only by the exciting adventure—and a little something more—he had found there. But no matter how many planets in however many star systems Captain Jean-Luc Picard had visited, none of the sweeping vistas he’d seen in his time at Starfleet could compare to the stunning beauty of a sunset over his ancestral home in La Barre, France, on Earth.

The Picard family vineyard was like a visit to centuries past. It may have had all the modern conveniences for cultivation of the vines, but the metal towers and complex watering system always disappeared into the background. All he could see was the land: the rows upon rows of vines with their deep purple grapes and brilliant green leaves that were as varied as snowflakes in design. The fertile ground from which they sprung was soft, with an almost buoyant feel beneath his feet. The scent of the grapes always provided a sensory trip right back to childhood, when he and his brother, Robert, would play hide-and-seek among the vines.

It was easy to forget the brilliant glow of the ice caves, the dramatic rumble of the falls, and especially the unique appeal of Risa on this day in particular. This had little to do with the view. Today was a celebration—a small celebration, but one immensely important—that hopefully would help wipe away the sadness of the past.

Picard’s visits home had become especially difficult since the loss of his brother, Robert, and, most tragically, his young nephew, René. He had visited their memorial stones upon arriving in La Barre, but he’d largely avoided the part of the house where the two had been lost in the fire. The structure had been rebuilt and there were no visible scars to be seen in the building, but Picard felt the tragedy in every newly replicated wooden plank and the too perfect paint. But this was not a weekend to dwell on the loss. Today was a time for the quiet celebration he had delayed far longer than was reasonable. It was time to make new memories and look to the future.

With those lingering memories, Picard tore his gaze from the window in the marriage office of la mairie. From that window he could catch a glimpse of his boyhood home, off in the distance before the landscape disappeared with the rolling hills. Like the Picard vineyard, the town hall of La Barre had stood for centuries. There the business of the small provincial town was conducted, everything from mediating the petty squabbles of landowners to the joyous marriages of its residents. It was the latter that had brought Picard here today.

String music replaced the sound of the soft breeze blowing through the curtains around the open window: Canon and Gigue for 3 violins and basso continuo. It brought a smile to Picard’s lips when he remembered the time young René suggested they install speakers in the fields under the belief that music would help the vines grow. He’d been so serious about his plan and so adamant in the pitch; even after Robert told him no, René promised that he would do just that once the vineyard became his. Picard allowed that maybe some memories from the past were acceptable for today.

Robert’s widow, Marie, had chosen the music. Picard hadn’t even wanted that for the simple ceremony, but she’d insisted. Marie sat in the front row of chairs in the small room along with Rose Bonnaire, a friend Picard had not seen for many years.

Picard smiled at them both from his spot at the front of the room. He wore a simple yet elegant suit that looked as if it came from the same period in which la mairie had been built. This was not the time for dress uniforms. Here in La Barre, he was not a Starfleet officer. He was simply Jean-Luc.

The mayor of La Barre—and Rose’s husband—Henri Bonnaire, stood with him. In most of France it was unusual for the mayor to conduct the civil ceremonies. But La Barre was not a particularly large town, and Picard had a history with the man. They had been friends in school. Not the best of friends but acquaintances. Their friendship likely would have been lost to time, but for the fact that Henri had been a town leader most of his adult life. It was only natural that he welcome the captain of the Federation flagship on Picard’s all-too-rare trips home. It was something Robert had been quick to point out every time Jean-Luc visited, since it was impossible to ignore that he was a Starfleet officer. But it had kept Jean-Luc and Henri in touch over the decades and made it all the more fitting for him to be there now.

As the music hit a crescendo, a sight more beautiful than his ancestral home entered the room. Doctor Beverly Crusher, bedecked in a simple beige dress with a bouquet of magenta dahlias, glided down the short aisle past their witnesses, who now stood for the bride’s arrival. This, again, was not part of a traditional civil ceremony, but Marie had insisted on some pomp and circumstance.

It was not the first time Jean-Luc had watched Beverly walk down an aisle in his general direction. Decades earlier, he’d been in the wedding party of Jack Crusher and Beverly Howard, standing beside Walker Keel, the best man, who had introduced the pair. Jean-Luc’s close friendship with Jack had kept him from admitting his feelings for years after his death. Seeing her now, in that dress with the winsome smile on her face, he hated himself for the wasted years.

After what seemed like even more years—but was probably only seconds—Beverly joined Jean-Luc at the front of the room. She took Jean-Luc’s hands in hers and looked into his eyes. Suddenly all time was forgotten as the mayor began the brief ceremony.

“Do you, Jean-Luc Picard, wish to marry Beverly Crusher?” he asked in the native tongue of the country, rendered into Federation Standard by the universal translators.

“Oui,” Picard replied.

“And do you, Beverly Crusher, wish to marry Jean-Luc Picard?”

She inclined her head to the side and flashed Picard a smile. “Oui,” she replied.

“It is time to exchange alliances,” the mayor said, as he lifted the rings from the table behind them and presented them to the couple.

Picard accepted his ring for Crusher, then took her hand. Wordlessly, he slipped the ring onto her finger as if it was always meant to be there. Without prompt, Crusher, in turn, did the same. They had decided to forgo vows of their own at Crusher’s suggestion. They expressed their love to each other a thousand different ways every single day in both words and deeds. It seemed beside the point to rely on flowery ceremonial language in what was little more than a legal procedure.

Henri turned his attention to the witnesses, posing a quick question, before introducing the couple. The ceremony was officially over. It was brief. Concise. Exactly as the couple had wanted. But Henri looked to Picard and suggested there was one more task to which to tend. Picard could not disagree.

Marie and Rose raised their hands in polite applause as the couple shared their first official kiss as husband and wife. The clapping intensified as two more sets of hands joined in. Whistles and hoots quickly followed. And one celebratory howl that came from deep in the gut shattered the peace of the room, pulling Picard out of the fond memory he’d been reliving.

“Computer,” a voice said as the howl died down. “Freeze program.”

Jean-Luc and Beverly were suddenly immobilized, locked in their kiss.

“I don’t know,” Geordi La Forge began as he stepped beneath the archway beside the frozen couple. “It was a nice ceremony and all—no frills, like you wanted—but . . . you call that a kiss? I expected a little more passion, Captain.”

“Passion was definitely lacking,” Commander Worf agreed. “There was not even one bone broken.”

“I was thinking something more like dipping her in his arms and making her toes curl, but broken bones would have been interesting too,” La Forge said.

“And not a single bat’leth,” Worf added. “You were in a town surrounded by vineyards. At least you could have had a pitchfork.”

“A pitchfork, Worf?” La Forge asked. “You haven’t been to many vineyards in this century, have you?”

Worf broke into what amounted to a smile for him. “True. Klingon bloodwine is cultivated on the field of battle.”

A more animated version of Captain Jean-Luc Picard stepped up beside his frozen counterpart. This one was dressed in his Starfleet uniform and looked considerably more guarded than his formally dressed holographic doppelganger. “Number one, I would never expect any human wedding could even compare to the excitement of a Klingon ceremony.”

“Agreed,” Doctor Crusher said. She too was dressed in her uniform, as they had all come off their shift before meeting on the holodeck. “We’re just a boring old married couple.”

“I did not call either of you old,” Worf said.

“So you are saying that we’re boring,” Picard countered with a smile in his wife’s direction, revealing a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Yes,” Worf replied.

“Now you understand why we never shared the program with you,” Crusher said. “We were afraid that our ceremony would never compare to the bacchanal of your wedding to Jadzia.” She turned to Picard, mirroring that twinkle in his eye. “You were right. We should have just saved this for Wesley’s eyes only. Obviously, we were right not to invite them in the first place. They would not have enjoyed our simple, quiet civil ceremony at all.”

“I am sorry if I have offended you,” Worf said, chagrined. “And I do wish you a happy anniversary.”

La Forge smiled. “They’re messing with you, Worf.”

Picard wore an overly enthused expression of shock on his face. “Why, Mister La Forge, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I caught those little smiles between the two of you,” the chief engineer said. “My ocular implants registered the mild spike in your blood pressure and the slight increase in your heart rates. You’re keeping something from us. Something about this ceremony isn’t true.”

“This was not your wedding ceremony?” Worf asked, a deeper scowl on his face than usual.

“No, this is our official wedding ceremony,” Crusher said with another smile directed toward her husband.

“There!” La Forge pointed to her face. “That slight blush. What is it you’re not telling us?”

Again, Crusher looked to her husband. The captain smiled broadly and took a deep breath. “Mister La Forge, what we showed you was, indeed, our wedding. The only wedding that we consider to be truly official. But, yes, we have held something back. It might not have been our only wedding ceremony that weekend.”

The Enterprise officers shared a look, but unlike the married couple’s glances, this one spoke of confusion and interest. Both leaned in dramatically, waiting for the true story. . . .

2

2380

“You really didn’t have to walk me to my room,” Crusher said as they lingered in the doorway. “I think Marie wanted to sit up with you a bit longer to reminisce.”

“I suspected as much,” Picard admitted. “To be honest, it’s all been a bit more overwhelming than I’d expected. Being here, at the vineyard, I was hoping to have some time to myself. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Crusher ran a finger along the edge of his lapel. They’d celebrated the eve of their wedding in town with Marie at a restaurant that advertised itself as “casual gourmet” and had dressed accordingly. “Are you sure you want to spend the evening alone?” she asked. “My room is large enough for two. And I promise not to reminisce. We can create new memories.”

There had always been a flirtatious element to their relationship. Years of friendship carried playful banter that was just touching on something more. But since Picard had finally admitted his feelings to her, Crusher had become positively amorous at times. It was a welcome change.

Picard took her hand in his. “A tempting offer, but you were the one that suggested we spend our last night as single people apart.”

“Yes, that was one of my less thought out plans,” Crusher replied.

“No, I like it,” Picard said. “It will build up the anticipation for our wedding night. Besides, I’d like to exorcise some of the ghosts from the vineyard before you and I make our commitment to each other.”

Crusher’s flirtation took a more serious tone. “Are you sure you want to do that alone? I’m here, if you want to talk.”

“I’ll be fine,” Picard said. “It would be best to get to bed. I’ll only be down the hall, should one of us need the other.”

Crusher got that flirtatious gleam in her eye again. “Jean-Luc, don’t be surprised if you hear me call out for you in the middle of the night. Big old houses like this can be scary at times.”

“I’ll be right there to protect you,” Picard said. “Although, quite frankly, I’ve never known you to be unable to protect yourself.”

“Still, leave your door open a crack just in case,” Crusher said. She brushed a quick kiss against his lips before stepping into her room. The door, he was glad to see, remained open with a gap.

He softly wished her good night as he turned to head down the hall. Picard’s childhood bedroom had been destroyed in the fire. Marie had done an exceptional job of re-creating the house as it had stood for centuries, but it could never be the same. He’d only barely been able to spend time in the bedroom on a previous visit.

Prior to their arrival, Picard had arranged with Marie that he and his fiancée would stay in the guest residence. He’d cited their impending marriage and their need for privacy as the reason, but Marie knew the truth. She dealt with those same memories every day. It was worse for her, because she could not simply escape to the guest house. The new head of the Picard vineyard had to keep up appearances.

The guest residence was the perfect spot for Picard to hide from the parts of the past he did not wish to visit. It was untouched by the fire and remained exactly as it had been when Picard was a child. He hadn’t spent too much time in the residence growing up, so it had fewer ghosts.

His room, however, was filled by a giant cake coated with garish pink frosting.

Picard stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the monstrosity. He looked back down to Crusher’s door to see if she was watching. The joke did not fit her brand of humor, but it was the first possible explanation that came to mind. But she was not peeking at her door waiting for a reaction, as far as he could tell. He quickly stepped in, pulling the door shut behind until he figured out what was going on.

The cake came up to his chest, with three layers that looked to be crudely constructed of wood. If he remembered his old Earth traditions, this was the kind of cake that a woman usually popped out of. The kind of thing that soon-to-be-married men had to suffer through when they had their bachelor parties.

But Picard had told no one about his wedding plans for the weekend. He and Crusher were simply on forty-eight-hour leave while the Enterprise was in drydock. No reason for anyone to suspect what they had planned. And even Will Riker, who had been known to play a trick or two on his former captain, would never arrange for such a crass display. None of Picard’s friends would do such a thing, and Marie certainly would not have helped them pull it off.

Which left only . . .

“Q!”

It was folly for Picard to have thought he could have such an important milestone pass in his life without interference from his resident imp. He really should have expected something and braced himself for whatever was about to occur.

“Q! Reveal yourself!”

A muffled thumping sound came from inside the cake. Picard knew better than to try to open it. He pulled an emergency medical kit from the closet. Marie had one in every room, another residual effect of the fire. He removed the tricorder and scanned the cake.

Sure enough, there was a person inside. Human. Female. All life signs reading normal. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t trouble, but at least Picard had an idea of what to expect.

He put down the tricorder and examined the cake. There was a small latch on the top layer, keeping whoever she was trapped inside. That seemed counterintuitive to the idea that the female was supposed to jump out and surprise the bachelor. It also meant it was likely that whoever was in there was being held against her will.

Picard slid the latch open and lifted the lid as the banging got louder and the voice was no longer muffled.

“Get me—” Inside the cake, curled up into an uncomfortable ball, Vash looked up at him. “Oh. Hello, Jean-Luc.”

“Vash,” Picard said with a nod. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“Oh, I’m very surprised to see you,” she said from her small prison. “Just quite not as surprised as I was to suddenly disappear from the ruins on Iremis II and turn up here in a . . . what am I in, anyway?” Her head twisted around to examine the wooden cylinder around her.

“A giant cake,” Picard said.

“Naturally.” She held her hands up toward him. “A little help, please?”

Picard took both hands and helped lift her to a standing position. Once up, she was still chest-deep in the cake.

“I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised,” Vash said. “Q is obviously behind this little stunt. I always knew one day he’d be back.” She took in her situation. There were no footholds inside the cake. Getting fully out of it was going to take some work.

“I believe there’s a stepstool in the hall closet,” Picard suggested.

“That might help,” Vash agreed.

Before Picard could leave the room, the cake suddenly disappeared, leaving Vash standing free. She was dressed for an archaeological dig, in her traditional beige. It had always been a good color on her, which not many people could say. At the moment, it set off the angry red in her face quite fetchingly as she yelled into the empty air: “If you think I’m going to thank you, Q, you’re dead wrong!”

Vash looked like she’d rather be anyplace but there, and Picard couldn’t blame her. It was lovely to see her again, but the eve of his wedding was not the best time to receive surprise visits from exes.

Picard had met Vash years before while vacationing on the planet Risa. Their shared passion for archaeology had bonded them immediately, though both had very different approaches to what ultimately to do with their finds. It was a visit from the ever-present thorn in Picard’s side, Q, that had forced their relationship out into the open when the omnipotent annoyance kidnapped Picard’s crew and sent them all on a merry adventure in Sherwood Forest.

Over time, Picard and Vash had lost touch, each exploring different corners of the galaxy. They had never really broken up, in the traditional sense, since they’d never dated. It was more like their relationship was just over one day, and neither of them felt the need to acknowledge what they both knew. As Picard stood in his family guest house staring at the proverbial one that got away, he regretted not seeking closure with Vash, if only to make a situation like this somewhat less awkward.

“What? No warm greeting?” Vash asked.

Picard gave a curt nod. “It’s good to see you, Vash.”

“But, clearly, my arrival is at an inopportune time?” Vash guessed. She took in the surroundings, her eyes focusing on the suit hanging on the closet door. “Romantic weekend?”

“Something like that,” Picard said.

“I can see how this would be bad timing,” Vash said. “Why would Q bring me here to interrupt? Is there something more going on than a rendezvous?”

“Go ahead and tell her, Picard.” The familiar voice came from out of the air. Picard and Vash looked around the room, but the speaker was still invisible. Or it was possible that he was just very tiny. Or he was one of the throw pillows. It was so hard to tell with Q.

“I don’t need your help, Q!” Vash called out. She focused back on Picard. “Jean-Luc?”

His eyes fell on the small black box on the dresser. Ever the observant one, Vash turned in the direction he’d looked, a realization registering on her face. She walked over to the box and lifted the lid. Two shining gold rings sat on a bed of velvet.

“Oh, Jean-Luc!” she said. “Someone is finally going to make an honest man of you? What a shame.”

Picard took the velvet box from her, quickly confirming the rings were still resting securely, and snapped the lid shut. They weren’t the type of heirlooms Vash traditionally went for, but he could imagine her thinking it would be fun to make him search for his wedding rings before the ceremony. “Far be it for me to expect an offer of congratulations under the circumstances,” he said.

“It’s Beverly, isn’t it?” Vash asked. “Doctor Crusher? I think she would make a wonderful wife for Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise.”

Picard wasn’t sure if she was being genuine or sarcastic.

“It is Crusher, right?” Vash was more lighthearted than concerned she had gotten it wrong. “Or has someone else snagged your heart?”

“You are correct. Beverly and I are set to marry tomorrow evening.”

Vash took in the empty room. “So this is your bachelor party? Kind of sparse. Where’s Riker? And the rest of your band of merry men?”

“We were hoping to keep things low-key.”

“Now at least I understand why Q brought me here,” Vash said.

“I certainly don’t.”

The bright glow from a flash of light lit the room behind Picard. It was hardly surprising when Q spoke: “Isn’t it obvious? We’re here to celebrate your final night of freedom.”

Picard spun on Q. “I will not partake in any antiquated, misogynistic customs.”

Q looked at Vash and smiled. “This from the man spending his last night sleeping in a separate room from his bride-to-be.” He now looked to Picard. “Can’t put that genie back in the bottle.”

“I think it’s quaint,” Vash said, playing along. “But I hope you didn’t bring me here to play the role of temptress. I’ve moved on, Q. Clearly, so has Jean-Luc.”

“We’ll see about that,” Q replied. “I’m here just to see to it that Picard is sure he’s making the right decision. To know that he’s considered what he could be giving up when there’s a vast galaxy of possibilities out there to explore.”

“Thank you, Q,” Picard said, hoping that appreciation was a better route than outrage. “But I am perfectly fine with making these kinds of decisions on my own. I really don’t need your assistance.”

“Nonsense!” Q said. “I’m only doing what is expected of me. It’s my responsibility as your best man.”

“Best man!” Picard laughed. “If you think—”

“Who else is here to stand up for you?” Q said. “I don’t see any numbers one, two, three, or four around. That’s why you need someone like me here. Not only will I stand up for you, I’ll make sure there’s a getaway shuttle waiting when you get cold feet.”

Picard knew that it was pointless to debate Q on the matter. Better to just wait him out to see what his endgame was. Instead of arguing, he sat in the nearest chair and crossed one leg, assuming a posture of relaxation.

Vash still looked ready to fight, but she focused on Picard sitting in his chair before saying anything. Her silent question was answered when he nodded to another chair. Following his lead, she took the other seat in the room, adopting a similarly relaxed pose.

“Wonderful!” Q said. “I see you two are willing to play along.”

Neither of them said a word as they waited for Q to make his reveal. Their refusal took some of the wind from his sails, but he pressed on. “It’s about adventure, Jean-Luc. Oh, I know life is very exciting on that starship of yours. But if you settle down, you will literally be married to Starfleet for the rest of your life. No chance of escape. No way to chuck it all and do what you want.”

There were so many things wrong with Q’s assumptions that Picard didn’t know where to start. He didn’t bother. This was Q’s show. Nothing he said would even be heard.

Vash did not share his patience. “What are you proposing, Q?”

Q’s eyes sparkled. Literally: He’d added a magical gleam to them. “One last adventure. The archaeological discovery to end all discoveries.”

Vash did not hide her interest. Picard knew it was trouble, but he couldn’t help that part of him that perked up at the thought. Q always brought with him the promise of adventure. Regretfully, adventure was always matched with danger, but Q knew how to get under Picard’s skin better than anyone. While he could be relatively clueless about things like politeness or social norms, he did know Picard, much to the captain’s chagrin. Whatever Q was about to offer would be tempting, but only in the most dramatically horrible fashion, Picard was certain.

Q raised his arm in a flourish. “The Treasure of the Ancients awaits!”

Picard barely had a moment to register the look of awe mixed with avarice in Vash’s eyes before Q snapped his fingers and they both disappeared.

3

Picard steadied himself on his feet. It was unsetting to be sitting one moment, then standing the next. He was also surprised to find that he was no longer indoors and—if the design of the crumbling buildings around him were any indication—no longer on Earth.

Picard shouted Q’s name in frustration. It was a call he’d made countless times over the years. The treacherous prankster rarely answered. Still, he wanted to register his displeasure. “I do not have time for these games! Return me home immediately!”

As expected, he was met with nothing but the sound of the wind.

“Unbelievable,” he said in frustration. “Vash, I’m sorry you got . . . Vash?”

Wherever they’d been sent, it was daytime. The temperature was mild, the sky was clear, and the streets were empty. For a moment, Picard feared that he was completely alone, but he spied Vash a block away, staring up at a two-story building. It was impossible that she hadn’t heard him yelling out to Q. Something else must have held her attention.

Picard made his way down the road, quickly but carefully. The town in which they’d been deposited seemed to have been abandoned long before, but that didn’t mean danger couldn’t lurk around every corner.

When he reached Vash, he saw that she was staring at some writing on the wall in an alien script he didn’t recognize. The lettering was carved into the building, though the edges of some of the characters had long since chipped away. Even if they had been perfectly preserved, Picard doubted they could translate the words.

“Jean-Luc, we can’t be on Myndra,” Vash said, taking in their surroundings. “Can we?”

“The planet Myndra is a myth,” Picard replied. “As much of a legend as the Treasure of the Ancients. This is just another one of Q’s re-creations, like Sherwood Forest.”

Vash seemed skeptical. “If his goal is to entice you into canceling your wedding, why would he send us to someplace fake? Making one of the most sought-after archaeological discoveries in the history of the universe only to find out it isn’t real wouldn’t exactly serve his purpose.”

“Honestly, Vash, I thought you would have tired of Q’s games by now.”

Vash shrugged him off as she marched down the street. “Q took me to some incredible worlds in our time together. As challenging as he was as a traveling companion, he came through on his promises. Why wouldn’t you believe he sent us off to find the Treasure of the Ancients? Think of it, Jean-Luc. A race of pirates traveling the galaxy, plundering pre-warp civilizations of their greatest treasures! Imagine what we could find!”

Picard hurried to catch up with her. “Where are you going?”

“Beats me,” she said. “To search for a clue or something. Prove to you that we’re where I think we are.”

Picard stopped following her. “I don’t care if we’re on Myndra or Shangri-La or Hades. I am getting married tomorrow.” He yelled out to the air: “Q, return me to Earth immediately!”

Vash paused in her search and waited before taking a few steps back to Picard. “You didn’t really expect that to work, did you?”

“Not particularly,” Picard replied. “But it was worth a try.”

“Okay, well, now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, let’s give this treasure hunt a shot.”

“I am only interested in finding a way home,” Picard insisted, remaining firmly where he was.

“That’s going to be a little difficult, considering we don’t even know where we are,” Vash said. “According to the rumors, Myndra is somewhere in the Delta Quadrant. What do you plan to do, stand on the tallest mountaintop and wait for a starship to pass by?”

“There may be some kind of communications system,” Picard suggested. “Piggyback on to that alien relay system Voyager used to make contact with Starfleet.”

Vash motioned toward the buildings. “Jean-Luc, look around. Some of these buildings are barely standing. It’s been decades since anyone lived in this city. Centuries, maybe. What do you think the odds are that a communications system would even work?”

Vash made a good point. At one time, the buildings on this street had been impressive. Most of them had been constructed with some combination of natural stone and glasslike substance that held up surprisingly well. The stone was crumbling in spots, but none of the “glass” Picard could see had even the hint of a crack in it.

Upon closer examination, it was the few buildings that were made from some other, unrecognizable material that were in jeopardy of coming down. Most of the structures in the vicinity suffered only cosmetic damage—layers of dirt collecting on the face of the buildings and the like. It gave Picard hope that he could find something in the remnants of this civilization.

“Assuming for a moment that we are on Myndra and the Treasure of the Ancients is real,” he allowed. “If that is all true, then the legends tell us that the Myndrans possessed incredibly advanced technology. Transporters that could take their alleged spoils from all over the galaxy. Why would you assume it wouldn’t function now?”

“Because no matter how advanced their technology was, it didn’t stop them from dying out, fleeing, or whatever it is that forced them off the planet,” Vash said.

“The Borg,” Picard replied, as he took over Vash’s search of the street. One of the buildings had to have some kind of technology inside. “Common belief is that the Borg assimilated the Myndrans and their planet.” He waved his hand in the same motion Vash had used a moment earlier. “These buildings have obviously not been assimilated by the Borg.”

“Some treasure hunter could have started that rumor to scare people off the scent,” Vash said.

“You always have an answer for everything,” Picard said.

“You used to like that about me,” she retorted. “Look, either you believe in the treasure or you don’t. I choose to believe.”

“It is more about my belief in Q,” Picard countered. “I do not trust him, and while you may be willing to go off on some wild adventure, I prefer to focus on returning to Beverly.”

“Who’s to say we can’t do both?” Vash asked.

Before Picard could reply, a worrisome sound interrupted their argument: the collected growls of a pack of animals off in the distance. The noises were loud, ominous, and growing closer.

* * *

Across the cosmos, the object of Picard’s affection placed her padd beside the bed in anticipation of some late-night reading. Beverly expected she was going to get very little sleep. Crusher thought she had long since grown beyond the youthful excitement of a sleepless night in anticipation of her wedding. It wasn’t even her first marriage. But she and Jean-Luc had been dancing around their feelings for years. Decades. Tomorrow would make it official, and she found herself almost giddy at the thought.

It didn’t help that she was in a strange bedroom on Earth, either. Her quarters on the Enterprise weren’t as lush as this guest room. And the thought of sharing quarters with Jean-Luc both excited her and made her wary. She wasn’t used to living with someone. Sure, they had spent a lot of time in one another’s quarters, but Jean-Luc had insisted on keeping separate quarters while they courted. As captain he had to keep up appearances, even though the entire crew knew of their relationship.

Crusher found the old-world charm of the decor of the guest room in Jean-Luc’s ancestral home comforting. It was the kind of room that was meant to be viewed in candlelight. The plush, overstuffed chairs and luxurious bedding looked so enticing for a restful night. Certainly, it was homier than the captain’s quarters on the Enterprise.

But Crusher had grown accustomed to the hum of the engines through the bulkheads and the subtle sensation of motion the inertial dampers could not completely eliminate. The doctor had been in space so long, she wasn’t sure how sleeping in a stationary room on solid ground would affect her, even if her mind hadn’t been busy anticipating every moment of the coming day.

Crusher slipped beneath the covers and leaned over to grab the padd, deciding that maybe reading one of Jean-Luc’s potboiler mysteries might lull her to sleep, when she felt a sudden added weight to the bed, as if someone was beside her.

Jean-Luc?

But she was facing the door to the hallway. It was still open a crack, the way she had left it earlier. There was no way he could have slipped in unnoticed.

Clutching the padd as a weapon, she spun on the bed. The fear she felt was immediately replaced by shock and anger. “Q!”

“The one and only,” he said from beneath the covers. “Well, scratch that. But the best one, at least.”

Crusher was on her feet beside the bed, still clutching the padd. She no longer felt like she was under physical threat, just emotionally wary. “Get out of my room.”

“Now, now, there’s no reason to greet me that way.” Q sat up in bed. Thankfully, he wore a Starfleet uniform, as was his habit whenever he made a visit. It looked even more out of place on him in the French provincial surroundings. Q patted the mattress beside him as if welcoming her return, then stopped, contemplative. “There’s something vaguely familiar about this scene.”

Crusher didn’t have a clue what he was referring to, which was par for the course with Q. It didn’t matter. She had more pressing concerns. “Why are you here? Where is Jean-Luc?”

“What makes you think I didn’t come here to see you?” he asked.

“Experience.” Crusher’s husband-to-be had become a regular plaything for Q. It was unlikely that he popped up here without visiting his old friend, Captain Picard, first. Crusher was suddenly more concerned for Jean-Luc than she was for herself.

“Funny you should talk about experience,” Q said, while fluffing up her pillows so he could get more comfortable. It was not a good sign. “Have you considered that your own experience with marriage might be intimidating to a first-timer like Jean-Luc?”

Crusher refused to be baited. She ignored him, placing her padd down on the nightstand before sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs across the room. “What do you want, Q?” she asked. “Why are you here?”

“I brought you a gift,” he said. “Shouldn’t that be obvious? It is the night before your wedding, after all.”

Crusher didn’t see any present, but that didn’t surprise her. Q could just materialize anything he wanted out of the air. “And what is this gift?” she asked, knowing she would regret it.

“Me.”

Yes, she immediately regretted it.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll return it unopened,” Crusher replied.

“I’ve always liked you, Beverly,” Q said. He clearly enjoyed their banter. “You always were my favorite.”

“You once turned me into an Irish setter,” she reminded him.

“Admit it, your hair never looked better!” he replied. “The canine version of you did have a stunning coat.”

Crusher had to laugh, but she was not laughing with him. “Yes, because that is the right way to woo a woman.”

“What?” Q was genuinely confused. He looked down at himself on her bed. “Is it the uniform? I assumed you had a thing for uniforms. Okay, then. I’ll change.” He snapped his fingers, and the gray-and-black Starfleet uniform transformed into a similarly colored silk robe.

Crusher shuddered at the thought of what might be underneath. “Didn’t I hear something about your own marriage or mating or whatever the Q call it? How would your . . . partner feel about you making a pass at me?”

“Things didn’t work out as planned,” Q replied. “Now my worse half is off on her own, gallivanting around the galaxy with other people from my past. A fella gets lonely, you know.”

“And you thought on the eve of my wedding was the best time to address that particular issue? With me?”

“Some women would consider themselves lucky,” he said. “I am quite the catch.”

Crusher crossed the room and pulled her door all the way open. “Consider me throwing you back.” It was a futile gesture, she knew. Q did not need—nor did he ever use—doors, but it helped her make her point.

“Throwing me out of your bed will not help you find your fiancé,” he warned.

Crusher tensed. She inherently knew that something must have been wrong for Jean-Luc not to have come. Aside from the suspicion that Q would have visited him first, they certainly weren’t being quiet. If Jean-Luc had kept his door open like they’d discussed, he most surely would have heard them.

A quick glance down the hall confirmed that the door to his bedroom was indeed shut. She could only hope that he was on the other side, in spite of what Q had implied.

“Getting into bed with you will likely not help me find him either,” Crusher said.

“True. But we’d have fun in the meantime. Call me if you change your mind.” Q was gone as quickly as he’d appeared.

Beverly Crusher did not wait another second before tearing down the hall.

4

Picard caught flashes of gray fur when he looked back over his shoulder. The creatures were gaining. They had been nothing more than rumbling noises in the distance moments before; now they were real. And only one long city block away. Picard did not let his gaze linger long enough to count the animals, but it was a considerable pack. There was no way to outrun them.

“We need to find shelter!” he called out to Vash.

“Over there!” She altered her path, running toward the nearest building, one of the stone and glass edifices that seemed sturdy enough to withstand the onslaught of the creatures.

The captain heard Vash’s pleas as they ran: “Please be open. Please be open. Please be open.”

He joined her as they reached the doors. Each grabbed a handle on the clouded glass and pulled. The doors opened freely without so much as a squeal of the hinges, but they were stopped dead by the pile of debris blocking the entryway.

“Next building!” Picard said as he continued down the street.

The creatures were getting closer. It looked to be six or seven of them—all gray with black markings, each about twice the size of a targ and infinitely more savage.

The next doors opened as easily as the ones before, but the entrance was similarly blocked by debris. A stack of metal chairs was piled haphazardly from the floor to the top of the doorframe.

“What is going on?” Vash yelled over the howling of the creatures. “Who barricades a door that opens out like this?”

“Questions for later.” Picard pulled a loose chair out of the stack. “We need to get inside.”

Vash quickly joined him in his work. The metal was surprisingly lightweight, which made the choice for a barricade even stranger. As soon as Picard removed a chair from the center of the pile, it loosened the stack and they all came down, spilling into the building. Picard and Vash followed, pulling the door shut behind them as they kicked the fallen chairs out of their way.

“Here!” Vash handed him the broken metal leg of a chair. Though the metal was light, it was unusually strong, resisting Picard’s attempt to bend it. Having passed the test, he shoved it through the interior handles of the doors as a makeshift lock. He doubted the creatures were dexterous enough to pull open a door, but he didn’t want to risk it. For the moment, they were safe.

It was just in time, as the first of the creatures jumped, claws first, at the door.

The glasslike substance held the animal back. The doors did not crack as the impressive weight crashed into them, and the animal tumbled back into the approaching pack.

The pack did not approach the door once their leader righted itself. They stood in the street in an arc formation, daring the humans to come outside where they could become dinner.

Picard finally had a chance to examine the creatures up close and in safety from the other side of the glass doors. Their gray fur was matted and dirty. What he’d originally believed to be black markings was actually some kind of soot. Several spots of fur had been torn from each of their bodies, and the mottled gray skin showed through. They’d been fighting among themselves or been attacked by other scavengers. Either way, Picard did not want to see what had happened to the losers of those fights.

As the captain leaned closer to their level, the leader stepped forward, growling. Picard saw intelligence in its eyes. Maybe not full sentience, but it did appear to be thinking, taking in the situation. The material the doors were constructed from was thin and clear, but it was strong. The creatures seemed to know inherently that repeated attempts at the door would be fruitless. The simply sat there, watching. And waiting.

Much as Picard wanted to study the pack, there were other mysteries to be solved. He turned away from the doors and made note of the lobby for the first time. Like the exterior, the inside was all stone and glass, with windows that ringed the building, allowing the afternoon light to shine through.

Bright shafts of glass stood in clumps at various points in the lobby like a crystal forest that ran from floor to ceiling. The shafts grew denser the farther he moved into the building, each one brighter with light than the one before it. “This is fascinating.”

“What?”

“This glass substance,” he said, as Vash joined him. “It’s a conduit of light. It reminds me of the Andorian ice caves. Sunlight is collected above us—on the roof, I assume. It’s carried down in this material, dispersing light through the lobby. Probably the rest of the building as well.”

“That’s convenient, considering any powered lights would be inoperative by now.”

“Don’t you see?” Picard said. “For a society rumored to have such advanced technology, to go back to nature in the design of its architecture is a surprising development.”

Vash leaned against one of the glass shafts. “And you say you’re not interested in archaeology anymore.”

“I never said I wasn’t interested,” Picard replied. “It’s just the timing wasn’t exactly fortuitous.”

“I’ll grant you that,” Vash said. “I’m just glad those doors didn’t have electric locking mechanisms. What was with the barricade, anyway? It could hardly be functional. Do you think maybe the Myndrans were invaded? By an overwhelming force of people who were ironically weak?”

“More likely the Myndrans weren’t strong enough to construct more formidable barriers,” Picard suggested, as he moved to examine a desk near what appeared to be a bank of turbolifts. He considered it was possible the desk was some kind of security station, one that might have a communications device.

“Perhaps some kind of biological agent,” Picard continued as he searched. “The survivors, in their weakened state, might have been trying to increase their chances of protecting themselves from these mysterious invaders.”

“Well, whoever they may have been, I assume they never found the treasure, or else Q wouldn’t have left us here,” Vash said.

There was no recognizable technology at the desk, much less any communications equipment. If there had been, it would have been unlikely they could have used it for long-range communication anyway. “You continue to be surprisingly trusting of Q.”

“We’d been through a lot together, exploring the Gamma Quadrant, among other places.” Vash hopped up on the desk and sat, swinging her feet out and back. “This doesn’t feel like a pointless endeavor to me.”

“Whatever the purpose, I just want to get home,” Picard said. “I’m beginning to wonder if these people may have eschewed technology.”

“Or maybe it’s just so advanced we don’t recognize it,” she said, with a nod toward the glass shafts of light. “That would be in keeping with the rumors about the Myndrans. How else would they have traveled so many light-years away to collect the Treasure of the Ancients from so many different civilizations?”

Picard shook his head. The idea that they could be so close to the mythical treasure was enticing. Vash would be useless to him until they found some clue that the treasure was real or proof that they were on a fool’s errand. He would have been lying if he’d said he wanted the latter to be true.

Vash looked like she was about to say something, but she stopped herself. She jumped down from the desk and looked around the lobby. “There has to be another way out. A building this size would have multiple entrances and exits.”

“I’m sure there is,” Picard said. “But I’d like to get a better handle on our situation. Not much we can tell from street level without tricorders.”

“What are you suggesting?”

Picard answered her by raising his eyes toward the ceiling.

Vash shrugged. “Why not? It’s only a half-dozen stories tall. There must be a stairwell around here somewhere.”

Once Picard had checked again to be sure the exterior doors were secured, they made their way through the lobby. The symbol for stairwells was apparently universal: a line zigzagging vertically up a bronze-colored placard. The sign was at the far end of the bank of turbolifts. Those had not been designed to function through natural power, since they were not working at all. Obviously, the Myndrans had believed in some technology before they disappeared.

Like the front entrance, there was no keypad beside the door to the stairwell, nor were there any obvious sensors to register their approach and open the door for them.

“It’s locked,” Vash said, after turning the handle and meeting resistance.

Picard gave the door a push. There was a little give but not much. It wasn’t locked, as Vash had said, but something was blocking them from getting inside. Vash noticed it give and, without a word, joined him in pushing against the door.

It took a bit of pressure, but the door finally moved enough to let them slip into the stairwell. It was cramped inside, made even more so by the pile of chairs shoved against the door.

The stairwell had no exterior windows, but the shafts of glass were banisters here that circled all the way up the building.

Picard led the way up the stairs, testing each door they passed on the way up. Like the lobby doorway, these were manually operated. Each was locked from the other side. He considered forcing one open to search the floors for anything that could help them get a message off the planet, but it was unlikely they would find anything helpful in a random building. They needed to find some kind of communications hub or maybe even a docking station.

They pressed on for another few floors to find that the door to the rooftop gave way with ease. No lock. No barricade. “Emergency escape?” Picard guessed.

“Escape from what?” Vash asked. “And to where?”

Glass circles dotted the rooftop floor. Picard assumed they became those shafts of light farther down into the building. The rest of the roof was empty except for the doorway they’d just come through.

The buildings around them were all roughly the same height, each a half-dozen stories. They grew taller toward the city center, but none of them reached the heights of the man-made structures on Earth.

On the other side of the building they saw that they were close to the edge of town. Only a few blocks away, the structures thinned out, giving way to parks grown over with weeds. Beyond that, the land grew wilder out to the mountains in the distance.

The sky was bright enough to suggest that there was still time before nightfall. It would be at least a day’s journey to the mountains at any rate. “We’d never make it to the mountains before it got dark,” he said.

“I doubt any treasure would be there,” Vash said. “Q would have put us close to its location but not too close. Besides, the Treasure of the Ancients may be a treasure, but I doubt it’s a buried one. These people would want to keep it close.”

They turned inward toward the city. One building stood out at the city center as the tallest and most ornately designed. “My guess is that that would be too obvious,” Picard said.

“Maybe,” Vash said. “But these people are extinct for a reason. It’s possible they were oblivious.”

Picard finally gave in. If they were going to get off the planet, he would have to accept that Q had sent them to find the treasure. That being the case, it made the most sense to start taking the stories seriously and consider what clues he already had. “If we believe the stories—”

“And as we’ve established, I do,” Vash interrupted.

Picard continued: “The Myndrans designed technology that allowed them to travel across the galaxy faster than any warp ship the Federation has witnessed. This allowed them to steal the greatest artwork and most prized possessions of dozens, if not hundreds, of planets. I don’t think a race like that would be so bold in designing a building that begs attention.”

“Now, now, Jean-Luc. You know the egos involved in the treasure-hunting game,” Vash said. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

And that inherently was the difference between the two of them. Picard preferred to think the best of people—with Q as a notable exception. Vash tended to assume the worst.

Picard leaned over the edge of the rooftop to see that the pack was still on the street below. They’d spread out, away from the front door, but were keeping watch. A quick trip to the opposite side of the building showed that two of the animals had made their way around to the back. Picard had been right: That showed some semblance of planning and a modicum of intelligence.

Being that they were atop the building at the end of the block, he could see that all three sides were covered. They could wait out the animals overnight, but Picard had a wedding to get back to.

“We’re not getting out that way,” Vash said, as she joined him peering over the edge.

“No, we most certainly are not,” Picard said.

“Guess that just leaves travel by rooftop,” Vash said.

Picard moved to the fourth side of the structure. The building they’d been unable to get into was within reach and maybe a meter below the one on which they were standing. Beyond that, the rooftops seemed roughly the same height down the long city block.

It was an option for escape, but not a particularly easy one.

* * *

Jean-Luc’s room was empty, as Crusher had known it would be. Q was a menace who could not be trusted, but she took him at his word when he’d said Picard was gone. Honestly, she should have suspected something like this. Hardly an important event went by in Picard’s life that Q didn’t know about. It was just like him to try to interfere.

They’d done so well at keeping their plans a secret from everyone they knew. Jean-Luc hadn’t wanted to call too much attention to their wedding, and she was fine with that. She hadn’t even told Wesley. Her son was off exploring the galaxy, and she wasn’t even sure how to get in touch with him. Besides, she would have hated for him to drop everything to come for the small ceremony they had planned. They were planning to preserve the event with a holorecorder so they could share their day.

Beverly had already had the big wedding. She didn’t need another. She didn’t want to deal with a wedding to her commanding officer in front of his crew. Riker and Troi had a wonderful marriage; their two weddings had occurred prior to his taking command of the Titan. They were already an established couple in the eyes of their crew. Of course, none of that secrecy worked with a being that claimed to be omniscient.

Crusher didn’t expect to find any clues in the guest room, which is why the pith helmet sitting on the chair was a surprise. A white scarf was wrapped around the dome, and when she picked it up she caught the faint scent of rosewater. It told her all she needed to know.

She would have laughed if she weren’t so concerned about finding Jean-Luc. It was such an obvious ploy on Q’s part. At least she took it as a sign that her husband-to-be was safe. Crusher didn’t doubt for a second that he was trying to find his way back to her, but she wasn’t about to sit around waiting for that to happen.

Rushing back to her room, Crusher threw a robe on before heading out into the cool night air. Marie was surprised to see her standing alone at the doorway and even more shocked when Beverly quickly explained what had happened. “Are you sure he’s okay?” she asked as Beverly came into the living room.

“Absolutely,” the doctor replied. “Q would never hurt Jean-Luc. Not intentionally, at least. He acts likes he’s a threat. Though I don’t think that’s what his plan is in this case.”

“What can we do?”

“I need to use your comm,” Crusher said. “I have to get in touch with someone at Starfleet. It’s best that I do it face-to-face.”

Marie nodded. “Of course. They would need to know that the captain of their flagship is missing.”

“Oh, no,” Crusher said. “If they find out they’d have to put the fleet on alert. Recall our crew from their leave. And then any chance we have for a quiet ceremony tomorrow would be gone. No, I’ve got something different in mind.”

5

“So, Jean-Luc, tell me about the good doctor.”

Picard pulled his arm back. He’d been holding it out across the chasm between buildings to assist Vash with the crossing. They’d already walked across eight rooftops and this, the ninth, was the easiest of them all to reach. It was just a short hop, as opposed to some of the leaps they’d taken earlier. Vash didn’t really need the assistance, but he’d been trying to be polite.

“Do not start with me, Vash.”

“Who’s starting?” She took the short leap between buildings, landing beside Picard. “I was just asking a question.”

“A loaded question,” Picard said. “One that falls right into the game Q is playing with us.”

Vash rested a hand on Picard’s shoulder. “Jean-Luc, I promise I’m not trying to start anything. But you can’t blame me for being curious about the woman who finally captured your heart. Although I can see she hasn’t changed you much. When Q is the only one throwing you a bachelor party, you know you’re in trouble.”

“Do you really think I would enjoy a bachelor party?” Picard said, continuing his way across the rooftop.

Vash let out a bark of a laugh as she followed. “No one likes a bachelor party! They’re awkward and antiquated rituals that treat marriage as if it’s the end of the party. I promise you, when I finally get hooked, the parties will continue until I’m dead. Or divorced.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

Vash smiled. “You always were a charmer.” The smile then twisted into something more mischievous as she took him by the arm, stopping him before he could cross to the next roof. “Is that how you captured Beverly’s heart? With your charming ways?”

Picard blew out a sigh as he sat on the ledge. “You’re not going to be happy until I answer your question, are you?”

Vash sat beside him. “I’m always happy. You know that. But I won’t be satisfied.”

Picard paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “Beverly has been . . . ever present. For the longest time, I took that for granted. Content with her in my life. She brought me comfort and a certain . . . continuity. Not everything with her is an adventure, and yet there is no one I would rather go on an adventure with. No offense, Vash.”

Vash flashed a smile. “None taken.”

“She is part of my past. She has been ever my present,” Picard said. “It took my nearly losing her to realize that she was also my future.”

They sat in silence for a moment, neither sure what to say. Picard wanted to apologize to Vash for being so ambiguous about their own relationship over the years, but the truth was that she was an enigma all her own. She likely would not take well to pointless apologies when it was so clear that they had both moved forward, if not moved on.

Without another word, Picard stood, lifted himself up on to the ledge, and stepped out into nothingness, dropping to the next rooftop.

“Dramatic,” Vash said, laughing as she joined him.

Picard moved to the front of the building and leaned over the edge. The street below was empty. “I think we’ve put enough distance between us and those creatures.”

“Hope so,” Vash called back to him. “Because we’re out of rooftops.”

Picard joined her at the other side of the building. They’d successfully traversed the long city block. A wide street lay between them and the next structure, a tall metallic building that came to a point at the top, across which there was no flat roof to walk. The building was far too distant to reach by jumping. They would have to go by foot.

Vash pointed down the street. “What’s that building there?”

Picard didn’t have to ask which building she meant. It stood out from the rest by its vast size alone. But even at a smaller scale it would have been hard to miss. The enormous glass dome sparkled in the light of the setting sun. The entire structure filled a city block. It was a completely unique design, unlike anything Picard had seen in his travels, and yet there was also a familiar feel to the structure. What he would have called Greek Doric columns from Earth blended with the modern curves and metallic edges he traditionally associated with the architect Sava of Benzar. What could have been influences from multiple familiar races had created an entirely fresh look from this apparently long-dead alien culture.

Picard imagined they were on the edge of some arts district. The giant dome was not the only structure to stand out. The city blocks had made a dramatic shift from their rectangular boxes into something quite visually fascinating. The obelisk across the way was only one example of the differences. Each structure was a piece of art. Like the domed building, many had a familiar feel.

“An art center?” Picard guessed, with an eye in the direction Vash was pointing. “Theater?”

“Maybe it’s a government building,” Vash suggested. “Or maybe it’s where the treasure is stored.”

“I don’t know, Vash,” Picard said. “It might as well have a giant red X on it and a sign that reads: Look Here.”

Vash nodded. “Well, who are we to ignore an invitation like that? I’ll race you there.”

“We should exercise cau—”

Vash was off and running before Picard could finish the sentence. Remembering that fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Picard couldn’t help but give chase. If there was a treasure, he wasn’t sure her penchant for rushing head-on into potential trouble would be the wisest course.

The stairwell was lit as brightly as the one that had taken them up to the first rooftop. Vash’s hurried footsteps echoed off the walls. “Vash! Wait for me!”

Her steps did not slow as Picard continued the chase. It was juvenile and childish but, in its own way, fun. To rush forward without thought, without care, was something he needed to do more often in his life.

Halfway down the staircase he realized his footsteps were the only ones to be heard. It was impossible that Vash had reached ground level. She hadn’t gotten that much of a head start.

“Vash?” he called out.

This time she answered: “I’m okay. Just ran into something you should see.”

Picard picked up his pace, reaching her after another two floors. She stood over the remains of what looked to be a pair of bodies long since dead.

It was little more than a heap of bones and faded worn cloth leaning against the door. As if the people it had once been had died trying to get in. Picard tried the door. It was locked, like the others they had encountered inside the first building.

“I nearly tripped over them,” Vash said. “What do you think happened?”

“I assume that answer can be found on the other side of the door,” Picard suggested.

Vash leaned over the rail, looking down. “We’re only one floor from the ground.”

“I thought you wanted to know what happened to these people,” Picard said.

“Archaeologists could spend months here learning the individual stories on this planet,” Vash said. “Years. If we focus on finding the treasure, there will be time to come back and do that.”

“Possibly what’s on the other side of this door will help with that,” Picard suggested.

“A random door in a random building in a deserted town?” Vash said. “The odds are we’ll learn something interesting behind every door in this city. There’s only one mystery I want to solve, and I think we should keep to our original path.”

It was almost as likely they would find an answer in their planned destination, but Picard didn’t argue. When traveling blindly, one option was as likely as another to prove fruitful.

They continued down the staircase together at a more cautious pace. The barricade blocking access to the lobby had already been broken through. It was probable the bodies they’d come across had been the cause. Debris was strewn beside the door.

Once they were through the lobby they saw that the barricade by the exterior door had also been pushed aside. This one was even less substantial than the one they’d encountered earlier. Picard shrugged it off as he held the door open for Vash. She led the way but nearly knocked into him, and she pushed her way back in.

“Shut the door,” she whispered.

Picard pulled the door closed and joined her peering through the glass. “What is it?”

“An old friend,” she said as they watched a pair of shapes in the shadowed street. “I can’t imagine it’s a coincidence that she’s here.”

* * *

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Marie asked. She was pacing nervously in her living room. Beverly wished she could pace as well, or move or whatever, but she was trying to maintain a calm facade.

“No,” Crusher replied. “But it’s the only idea I’ve got.”

After speaking with a friend at Starfleet headquarters, Crusher had gone back to her room to dress. She’d checked in Picard’s room to see if he’d returned, not surprised to find it empty. No other clues to his whereabouts had presented themselves, but she grabbed the pith helmet and brought it with her in case she needed it. Not that she imagined what kind of usefulness it could possibly provide.

Jean-Luc will be fine, she assured herself as she sat on Marie’s sofa. There’s nothing to worry about. It was true that Q would likely not harm him. But this was not how she imagined spending the eve of her wedding. She was playing a dangerous game, inviting a player that was still an unknown quantity. If that player even accepted her invitation.

Marie looked at the clock. “What makes you think—”

The room was bathed in a bright flash of light as a woman appeared. She wore a couture outfit that Crusher could easily have seen in one of the shops in Paris: a gorgeous dress with faux feathers and metal shards that gave it a gentle yet dangerous look. In it, she would stand out in any crowd, but she looked absolutely ridiculous in Marie’s living room.

The woman held a hand out to Marie. “Doctor Beverly Crusher,” she said, with a nod of her head. “I’ve heard so much about you. Funny, I always pictured you younger.”

Crusher cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m Doctor Crusher. I assume you are—”

“Q,” the woman said as she pivoted with a forced smile. The light reflected off the metal shards, illuminating the feathers as she turned. “But you may call me Q.”

Crusher accepted her hand. “Thank you for coming.”

“How could I resist?” the woman replied. “A distress call sent out to me personally in three different star systems? You’ve got friends in faraway places. I left the party I was attending as soon as I heard. I do fear I may have left my travel companion in a bit of a lurch, but she’s proven capable of handling awkward situations in the past.” The woman sat on the couch. The metal shards of her dress dug into the upholstery.

Crusher had had to call in a few favors to get that message out to some of her more distant friends. Arranging subspace communication on the spur of the moment wasn’t as easy as tapping a combadge. If Will Riker ever found out that she’d intentionally left him out of the loop, there would be hell to pay in the future. But the last thing she needed was the Titan rushing back to Earth.

It had been a one-in-a-million chance, assuming the intended target would hear her message. But considering how Q himself seemed to be anywhere at any time, the odds had been in her favor.

The female Q looked over at Beverly. “I fear I’m overdressed.” She turned to Marie, who was still in her nightclothes. “Oh yes, I am definitely overdressed.” With the wink of an eye, her outfit shifted to something more casual that Beverly would have worn when not in uniform. “That’s better.”

It was better. If only because the metal shards were no longer cutting into Marie’s couch.

“Now,” the woman said. “What seems to be the cause of your distress?”

6

“I saw you, Vash! You can either come out and explain yourself, or we’re coming in! And you do not want us coming in there!”

“If she keeps yelling like that, she is going to attract those creatures,” Picard said.

“That would solve one problem,” Vash said.

Picard eyed her suspiciously. “I thought you said she was a friend.”

Vash tilted her head to the side, considering her words. “More like an acquaintance. We had a few run-ins in the Gamma Quadrant.”

Picard nodded. Vash did not play well with others. He suspected that she had similar acquaintances in three of the four quadrants of space. Q had given her a chance to complete the set with the Delta Quadrant . . . if that was, in fact, where they were.

“What did you do this time, Vash?” the woman called out. “And what will it take for me to undo it?”

The woman had stopped her approach, staying toward the middle of the street. Picard could not make out much through the clouded glass, but he saw enough of their shadows to see that the pair was humanoid in appearance. He could also see that the woman’s traveling companion was ominously tall and somewhat hulking.

“If the pack comes after her, we will be trapped in this building,” Picard pointed out. “Better to confront the acquaintance you know head-on than deal with any more surprises this planet has to offer.”

Vash sighed. “Always the logical one.”

She pushed the door open, holding her hands out in front of her to show that she was unarmed. Picard came out with her, adopting a similar pose.

The woman who had been yelling at Vash was of a race that Picard did not recognize. She was of average height for a humanoid, with short brown hair and some kind of tribal markings on her face. The markings were red, which stood out against her blue skin. As Picard got closer, he saw that they appeared to be tattoos rather than a natural occurrence.

The man by her side was unfamiliar to Picard, but his planet of origin was far more familiar. He was Nausicaan. And if the bulge in the shirt at his belt was any indication, Q had not dropped them off on the planet without a weapon, as he had Picard and Vash.

“Burinda, I promise you, I had nothing to do with this.” Vash moved into the street, stopping with a meter between her and the pair. Picard did the same.

“That’s likely!” Burinda bellowed, her voice echoing down the empty streets. “This is exactly the type of thing you and that partner of yours would be up to.”

“Well, you’re right that this is Q’s doing,” Vash replied. She kept her voice soft in what Picard suspected was a vain attempt to bring Burinda down some in volume. “But I’m just as much a pawn in this as you are.”

“Ha!” the woman burst out. “I’ve never known you to be anyone’s pawn.”

“Might I suggest we keep our voices at a neutral level,” Picard suggested. “We are not alone in this city.”

The Nausicaan said nothing but grunted in what Picard could only assume was agreement. Burinda didn’t bother to hide her disdain. “And who are you?”

“Jean-Luc is a dear friend,” Vash replied. “And your partner here?”

“Goztik,” the Nausicaan said.

“He’s not very chatty,” Burinda added. “And although he and I have crossed paths in the past, he is not my partner. You know as well as anyone that I work alone. Now, why are we here?”

“Long story,” Vash said. “And I’m afraid it wouldn’t make much sense anyway.”

Jean-Luc heard the now familiar growl of the creatures in the distance. They were still a ways off but likely closing in fast. He leaned over to Vash. “It’s time to take this inside.”

Vash didn’t reply immediately. Clearly she was weighing her options other than bringing their new friends to the domed building with them.

Picard knew there wasn’t time to debate the issue. “We’re heading for that building down the street,” he said, with a nod in the direction of their objective. “The creatures on this planet are quite aggressive. I suggest continuing this conversation indoors.”

Burinda eyed him with suspicion before relenting. “Lead the way.”

Picard did not like having his back to people he didn’t know or trust. He liked it even less when he considered that one of them was likely armed. But unless someone went first, he suspected that they would stand in the middle of the street until the pack fell on them. He just had to believe that Vash had his back, both figuratively and literally, should anything happen. None of the others were about to volunteer to take the lead.

The growling became louder as they reached the building. Either it was the same pack of creatures or a whole new group. The captain wasn’t sure if they were nocturnal animals, but the sun was beginning to set, and he did not wish to experience any new dangers.

Through the heavy glass doors they could see a stack of chairs blocking their entrance. The barricade was even less formidable than the one he and Vash had encountered earlier. It was short work for Picard and Goztik to push their way into the building. It actually took them longer to block the door again, hoping to keep the animals out. There was no clear locking mechanism, and the doors merely swung on a hinge. A simple push had opened them.

“Trusting people,” Burinda commented on the door before turning her attention to the lobby. They had been right: The building was a museum. At least that was the impression it gave.

The atrium ran the height of the building, opening up to the edge of the glass dome. Several floors or levels were stacked one above the other in concentric circles, each growing smaller until they reached the dome. It reminded Picard of a toy he’d once seen his nephew René enjoying as a young child: a series of rings placed one atop the other in order of greatest diameter to least.

From his spot on the ground floor, Picard could see flashes of different styles of artwork on each floor above: sculptures on the first floor, paintings on the second and third, pottery seemed to be on the fourth. The other floors were too high for Picard to see from his angle on the ground floor, but the building was tall enough to suggest it was stocked with more artwork than one could fully examine in a week.

At floor level, jewel-encrusted statues lined the walkway that led to the entrance to the interior building. It was the first glimpse they had of the populace that had once inhabited this planet, assuming the statues had been carved in their likeness. The statues were tall and slim, the muscles well defined. In times past on Earth they would have been referred to as having a swimmer’s build. Their faces were more angular than rounded, with literally squared jaw lines and sharp bone structure jutting out beneath the eyes and behind the ears.

The jewels that were placed in the eyes and accenting the clothes on the statues sparkled with an internal light. They were likely unique in the galaxy. Even if they littered the planet, to a Ferengi they would be worth their weight in latinum. He could see Vash calculating their value by the way she studied each piece in a casual manner—she appeared to be merely taking in the room. Picard doubted he was the only one on to her.

“Just so we’re clear,” Burinda said, “I claim this find on this abandoned planet for myself . . . and my Nausicaan friend here.”

Goztik grunted with a curt nod of his head.

Vash tore her gaze from the nearest statue. “If you can find a way home, you can have it,” she said with a shrug.

It was a rare, miscalculated comment, in Picard’s opinion. Burinda pounced right on it. “Hmmm . . . I wonder what more interesting treasures this planet might hold.” She turned to the Nausicaan. “I think our companions are holding out on us.”

Goztik replied by pulling a disruptor pistol from his belt, confirming Picard’s suspicions about his being armed.

“Guess we were the only ones sent here without the benefit of technology,” Vash said, as she and Picard raised their hands.

“We have no issue with you, Goztik,” Picard said. “You and Burinda are free to have whatever treasures this planet offers. We just want to get home.”

“You’re being a little free with unclaimed discoveries, Jean-Luc,” Vash said through clenched teeth.

Picard didn’t bother to keep his voice low. “At the moment we have no way off this planet, nor do we even know where we are. What we have, or have not, found is of little importance. I suggest we work together to find a way off this planet and then worry about divvying up whatever spoils we may find.”

“Why, that plan is almost Vulcan in its logic,” Q said, as he materialized atop the statue of a creature similar to a horse. “But let’s see how it holds up when someone throws in a twist.”

Goztik swung his disruptor around, training it on Q.

“You might as well put that away,” Burinda said. “Q could turn it into a water pistol with the blink of an eye.”

Goztik did not lower his weapon.

“Good to see you again, Burinda!” Q said, with a tip of an invisible hat.

“Wish I could say the same,” Burinda replied.

“Yes, well, let’s dispense with the pleasantries,” Q said. “You’re wondering why I’ve pulled you from the Gamma Quadrant and brought you here. And—more important, I assume—you’re wondering where here is.”

“Q,” Vash interrupted, “I thought this was an adventure for me and Jean-Luc.”

Q waved her off. “Yes, well, your adventure was a little boring. I wanted to spice things up a bit.” He turned his attention to Burinda and Goztik. “Just so you know what I’ve gotten you into, you are on the planet Myndra. If that name seems familiar—”

“The Collection of Time and Space,” Burinda said, eyes wide as she took in the museum around her with new focus.

Picard turned to Vash, who shrugged in response. He assumed that was the name for the Treasure of the Ancients in the Gamma Quadrant. There were so many legends of the treasure where Picard was from, it only stood to reason that the story had shifted and evolved as it traveled through other parts of the galaxy as well.

“Oh, it’s not in this building, I assure you,” Q said. “But it is close. I figured inviting you along for the game, Burinda, would make up for that nasty bit of business I left you with on Kigus III.”

“It doesn’t,” Burinda replied. “But it is a start.”

“And me?” Goztik asked. “Why am I here? I know none of you people.”

Q shrugged. “Nausicaans always add a certain . . . je ne sais quoi. Besides, Picard is always so much more fun when one is around.”

“Enough, Q,” Picard said.

“Oh, Jean-Luc.” Q hopped up from his seated position on the carved steed. “When are you going to learn that enough is never enough for me?” He stood on the sculpture, balancing precariously on the saddle. “So, now, to sweeten the pot, as they say . . . the person that finds the treasure first gets a one-way ticket home. Or to the destination of their choosing. The rest of you are on your own. Now, allow me to clear your path.” With a wave of his hand, the barricade they’d reconstructed disappeared. “I’ve distracted those wild beasts for the moment, so you’re free to leave. Happy hunting!”

Q disappeared before they could argue.

“The Collection of Time and Space,” Burinda repeated with awe. “What a surprise this day is turning out to be.”

“Don’t think you can trust Q, even if you do find the treasure,” Vash warned. “I’ve made that mistake before, Burinda. We should discuss our options.”

“And give you a chance to pull one over on me?” Burinda belted out a forced laugh. “Not very likely. Seeing as how you two are already a team, I suggest Goztik and I go our own way—”

Goztik grunted again, with a nod of ascent.

“—and may the best team win.”

There was no point in debating. Goztik kept his pistol trained on Picard and Vash as he and Burinda made their way through the doors. Once outside, Goztik fired a long, sustained pulse at the doorframe, melting the metal and sealing them inside.

Picard and Vash stood in the middle of the empty atrium, examining their next move.

“Seems a little suspicious that Q would be so helpful in pointing the way out of the museum, isn’t it?” Vash said.

“Possibly,” Picard agreed. “But he would expect us to be suspicious of him, would he not?”

Vash sighed. “You just described my entire time traveling the galaxy with him. Always second-guessing every move he made. We’re here now. Might as well get a good look at things before it’s too dark in here to see anything.”

Picard agreed. With the sun setting, the natural light was going to be limited. Thankfully the museum, with its glass dome, let in a lot of that light. There was no guarantee things would be as clear on a moonlit night. Assuming there even was a moon. It would be best to find out what they could as quickly as possible.

The atrium opened up into an even larger room that housed a collection of different styles of artwork. The theme was disjointed. No two pieces were alike, and yet, like the structure of the building itself, there was something familiar about all of them.

“Maybe it’s a preview,” Vash suggested. “Showcasing what the museum holds.”

Each piece did seem to correspond with what he had managed to see on the higher levels from the atrium. An odd idea for a museum to mix styles like that, but he had seen far stranger things in his travels. And that feeling of familiarity kept nagging at him.

Picard approached a statue made from a variety of copperlike materials. It seemed more pliable than the metal, having been bent at a variety of angles. The entire piece fit into an ovular shape. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Picard said. “But does this not seem Cardassian in design?”

Vash examined the piece more closely. “Cardassians would never mix metals like that, but I get what you’re saying. It does seem to have those influences.”

“And this one.” Picard had moved over to a painting. “This could be a Betazoid pastoral. It matches all the traditional styles, and yet . . .”

Vash completed the thought: “I’ve never seen that kind of plant life on Betazed.” She moved to a tapestry depicting a battle among the Myndrans, with all the combatants mounted on steeds like the sculpture Q had stood upon in the atrium. “This is almost straight out of a Klingon text.”

“But the fabrics are unlike any I’ve ever seen before.” Picard gently slid a finger along the dusty edge of the wall hanging. “Or felt.”

“This cinches it for me,” Vash said. “The Treasure of the Ancients is real. And it is here. It has to be. If not in this museum, then definitely on this planet. These people have clearly been influenced by the artwork of alien races that live thousands of light-years away.”

Picard nodded. It was impossible to disagree with the facts in front of his eyes and under his touch. Coincidence could explain one or two similar art styles on the alien planet. But from his cursory look at the room, he already counted more than a half-dozen influences from different societies he recognized at different times in history. A closer look would likely uncover more similarities, and Picard knew only a small fraction of art that existed in the vast galaxy.

What Picard was familiar with hardly mattered. There were enough clashing styles in the room that he found it hard to trust that a single race could explore so many different concepts in a thousand lifetimes.

Their suspicions were confirmed as they climbed higher into the museum. Familiar human influences were present in much of the art they saw, but nothing that pointed their way to the source material. Everything in the museum seemed to ultimately be Myndran in design. It was clear from the materials used and the humanoid subjects of the imagery. None of the art showed an alien race, only what they assumed to be the indigenous species.

They even found some artwork featuring images of the creatures that had been giving chase since they’d arrived on the planet.

As they finished exploring the top level of the museum, Picard watched as the last sliver of sunlight dipped beneath the edge of the dome. “We should return to ground level before we lose the light.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” Vash moved toward a white stone nestled into the wall. It glowed faintly but with increasing brightness as the ambient light dimmed.

Picard joined her by the stone. “It seems to be solar powered, but is it naturally occurring or technological?”

“I’m going to assume natural,” Vash said. “Or else I can’t imagine how it would still be functioning after all this time. Ultimately, I don’t care. If it lets us search the museum, I’m all for it. There’s probably some secret room or maybe an underground chamber where they keep the source of their inspiration.”

Picard’s skepticism showed on his face. “I don’t think the treasure would be in this museum.”

“Why is that?”

“These people are obviously proud of what they have collected. Otherwise they wouldn’t be so bold as to use it in their art. These artists must have seen the treasure to be inspired by it.”

“So they wouldn’t hide it,” Vash said, catching on to Picard’s line of thought. “They’d display it.”

“I wouldn’t suspect they have a museum devoted to showing off the treasure.” Picard motioned to the artwork around them. “That’s the point of what we see here: It wouldn’t be in the museum itself. This has been established to show what the Myndrans can do with their inspiration.”

“Are you suggesting the Myndrans weren’t thieves?” Vash said. “That they were artists?”

“Let’s examine what we do know about this culture,” Picard said, pacing the room. “The Myndrans are said to have traveled the galaxy stealing treasure from pre-warp societies. Why did they do that?”

“To sell them back to those worlds when they did become technologically advanced and had more to offer the Myndrans,” Vash said. “Sort of like the Borg, in a way. They took from other races, integrated it into their own, and then returned it, taking something else in exchange.”

“But there has never been a tale of them returning any of the artwork and asking for something in exchange,” Picard pointed out.

“Because something caused them to die out before they could.”

“Perhaps,” Picard allowed. “Maybe they took the art to preserve it. To draw inspiration from it. Maybe their motivations weren’t greed.”

“So we’re back to thinking the treasure is in a vault somewhere?”

“It’s protected,” he replied. “But maybe not very well hidden.”

“Then what’s our next move, Jean-Luc?” Vash asked.

“I’d like to know that myself,” a voice said from the shadows.

7

“Beverly!” Thousands of light-years from home, on a mysterious planet not found on any chart, and yet she had managed to track him down. He wondered if he would ever know this woman’s depth.

As the glow from the stones brightened to fill more of the room, he was delighted to see his intended stepping into the light. She was dressed in the outfit she’d been wearing before this adventure began, though, oddly, she carried a beige helmet with her.

It took only a few steps to cover the distance between them and all was right in the galaxy. Having her back in his arms was natural. It was where she was meant to be. “How did you—”

“Q,” she replied. “Another one. She’s actually a lot more reasonable than the one we know. She refused to bring you home, but she had no problem sending me to meet you. Especially once I convinced her how much it would annoy the Q that sent you here. You should meet her sometime.”

“I think I could forgo that pleasure if it meant never seeing another Q for the rest of my life,” Picard replied.

“Wouldn’t that be a nice wedding gift?” Crusher released him and held out her hand. “Hello, Vash. You left your pith helmet behind.”

Vash took the hat from her. “Pith helmet? I wasn’t wearing a pith helmet.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Crusher said. “It was likely part of Q’s plan to seduce me. Convince me that you’d gone off willingly with an ex-girlfriend so that I’d have to fall into his arms, racked with jealousy.”

Picard laughed at the mere idea. “That is a story I’d like to hear sometime.”

Vash examined the hat and finally decided to wear it, placing it on her head and giving it a little tap on the dome. “Just so we’re clear: I had nothing to do with this.”

“You mean you’re not the woman from Jean-Luc’s past come to ruin our wedding?” Crusher patted Vash’s hand. “Don’t worry, I never took you to be so clichéd. Q, on the other hand . . .”

“Glad we got that out of the way.” Vash released Crusher’s hand and turned her attention to the stones on the wall. They’d reached full brightness, illuminating the room in a warm glow. “Jean-Luc, why don’t you bring her up to speed while I try to get some of these stones off the wall. If we’re going back out on the streets, we’ll need the extra light.”

Picard wasn’t so sure the natural wall sconces were removable. “Are you sure—”

“Just . . . talk with your fiancée,” Vash said. “I’ll be fine without you.”

Picard watched as Vash examined one wall sconce, looking for a way to remove it. Sometimes it was hard to remember that underneath the bravado was a person with the same insecurities as anyone else. Yes, she and Picard had both moved on in their own ways, but it was not easy seeing someone you’d once cared about with another.

Picard filled Beverly in on what had happened since they’d arrived on Myndra. She shared his skepticism about the mythical treasure but was intrigued by what had caused the death of the populace. It was an expected reaction from his CMO.

“It is possible that the rest of the planet is teeming with people,” Picard said. “We’ve only seen one city so far. Could this simply be under quarantine? Could we be in danger?”

“Not likely,” Crusher replied. “From the way you described the state of the bodies you found, it sounds as if whatever happened occurred a long time ago. A lot of time had to pass for them to decompose to that level while they were inside, protected from the elements. I’d also assume there would be remains on the streets.”

Picard shook his head. “Could they have been removed by survivors?”

“It’s possible,” she allowed. “But I’d assume the indigenous animal life did that job. I suspect you would have come across random bones scattered about if you hadn’t mostly been traveling by rooftop. If it were some kind of chemical or biological attack, most dangers would have dissipated by now. I can’t think of many reasons to have left this city completely undisturbed for such a long time.”

“At the very least someone would have looted the place by now,” Vash agreed. She held two of the smaller glowing stones in her hands, matching two holes that now sat in the walls. “Museums are always the first to go.”

Crusher moved to the window. From this angle they had a good view of the city center, where the buildings were taller and almost as impressive as the museum. “Either that or the government would have destroyed the city to prevent others from entering and risk exposing other worlds.”

Picard joined her by the window. The streets were similarly lit by streetlamps with the glowing stones, but they were still shaded in mystery. He could tell by the look on Beverly’s face that she was hooked into the possibilities as well. “You’re on to something.”

“Maybe. I’d like to get a better look at the city.” Beverly smiled. “See if we can find some more bodies. If these people had the technology to travel great distances and presumably teleport these treasures they collected, why wouldn’t they evacuate the planet and take everything with them? If the Borg didn’t get these people, what did?”

Vash handed each of them a glowing stone. “The hunt continues.”

The rest of the museum was brightly lit, making their own makeshift flashlights superfluous while inside. It wasn’t hard to find another exit to the huge complex, which made Burinda and Gostik’s attempt to seal them in pointless. Picard wasn’t worried about the considerable head start they’d given themselves. The pair were as likely to find random clues in the large, abandoned city as they had been in the museum.

Once Picard had ascertained that the exit was clear of any creatures, they made their way out into the streets of the city. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but the shadows were long from the buildings that grew taller the farther in they went. Lamps lining the roadway bore the same glowing stones that had been in the walls of the museum, though these were considerably larger, giving off more light. Their own lights weren’t needed for the moment, but they decided to hold on to them in case they were needed later.

Beverly had been right: Now that they were spending more time on the ground, they did find some slivers of bone scattered about. Tooth marks on the bones indicated that she’d also been right about scavengers getting to them. Now that they knew what to look for, the clues became easier to find. But they still did not know what it all meant.

This was not how Picard had imagined spending the eve of his wedding. As captain of the flagship of the fleet, he was accustomed to the unexpected. His own life had been more unpredictable than it would have been if he’d stayed in France to work the family vineyard.

Still, sometimes he’d dreamed of a life of routine: a simple, small ceremony at his family home. Just him, the woman he loved, and witnesses. Then he’d return to the Enterprise and continue the adventure with Beverly by his side. Q had been wrong to think that Picard needed one last adventure before he “settled down.” He wasn’t “settling” for Beverly; this was the life he had wanted from the first time he saw her. That thought carried him through the empty streets as their search moved indoors.

Beverly mumbled something unintelligible while studying the body of a long-dead corpse. They had pushed their way through another barricaded door. Here, though, the barricades were on the outside, and they were considerably more formidable. The doors were all locked as well, but Beverly wanted to see what was inside.

The building they’d chosen had been a restaurant of some kind. The tables had been pushed together into beds with decaying remains laid out at rest. A few bodies were curled up on the floor, bones jutting out at all angles. By Picard’s count, there were three dozen bodies: the first real evidence of some kind of mass event that must have killed the populace quickly enough that they died where they were. Yet, there was still enough time to allow for the barricades to be erected in what was appearing more and more likely to be a quarantine zone.

Picard kept one eye on the street through the picture window. The road remained empty of both animals and competition, but he was more focused on the sense of déjà vu it evoked. He felt like he was on Bajor. The buildings were cylindrical in design, many topped by small domes. Even the coloring was the same shades of clay and copper. The street stood in stark contrast to the one they had just come from, which had more of a Klingon feel, with buildings in the shape of pyramids like those found on Qo’noS.

The other streets in the neighborhood were similarly designed, jumping from influence to influence in each city block. Some were familiar to Picard, while others were totally alien. It was further evidence that this was the planet of rumor with stolen treasures from across the universe. But those stories never suggested that the people were anything more than thieves.

“Interesting,” Crusher said, largely to herself. Her voice pulled Picard out of his musings again.

“Solved the mystery?” Vash asked. She’d sat herself on a counter, beside another body, as if unaware of it being someone’s resting place. They’d been on their feet for hours, and when they first entered the restaurant, she’d said she needed a rest and the deceased certainly wouldn’t mind.

“I’m good,” Crusher said as she stood. “But not that good. Without a tricorder or even the most basic medical equipment, I couldn’t begin to guess what killed these people. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn something from them.”

Picard moved away from the window to join her. “Such as?”

“The barricades suggest a quarantine,” Crusher said, with a nod toward the door. “A hastily arranged quarantine, to be specific. Informal. These people didn’t have time to get the infected to hospitals. They just locked them in where they were.”

It was as Picard suspected. “A people with access to the kind of technology suggested by the legends would not have to rely on piling debris in front of buildings for a quarantine. Or physically carrying the victims to hospitals.”

“Precisely,” Crusher said. “Some barricaded themselves inside. Others made sure the disease didn’t spread by doing the opposite. The barricades on the outside of the doors were likely put there from irrational fear rather than actual necessity. No one was thinking clearly by the time they went up.”

“So we’re not dealing with zombies?” Vash asked, eyeing the body beside her as if she was waiting for it to rise.

“Not likely,” Crusher said, smiling.

Vash hopped off the counter. “So how does that help us?”

“I have a theory,” Crusher replied. “It’s a little bit out there.”

“Beverly, we’re on a dead planet at some indeterminate location in the galaxy, searching for a legendary treasure, all thanks to some powerful being that kidnapped us on the eve of our wedding for some nefarious and purely illogical reason,” Picard reminded her. “We cannot possibly be any more ‘out there’ than we already are.”

“Good point,” she replied with a sigh. “I was thinking of the curse of the pharaohs.”

Picard nodded, not sure where she was going with this line of thought but trusting that she had considered it thoroughly.

Vash had no such illusions. “Really, Doctor? I expected more from you. There’s no such thing.”

“Yes, Vash, I know,” Beverly replied evenly. “I do work in medicine. But bear with me. I might have an idea of what happened here.”

Picard gave Vash a warning glance. He didn’t think Vash had spoken out of jealousy or anything so trivial. She just tended to be blunt, particularly when someone was discussing her field of expertise. Still, he couldn’t help but feel protective. “Go on, Beverly.”

“Maybe because we’re on a treasure hunt, I was thinking about all the deaths supposedly associated with the tombs of the Egyptian pharaohs.”

“Coincidental deaths,” Vash added lightly.

Beverly ignored her. “It’s not the deaths so much that interest me as the reasons people came up with over the years to explain them. One of the prevalent theories was that there was some kind of bacteria collecting in the tombs that infected anyone who entered.”

“Beverly, I hate to contradict you, but Doctor Miles Kamish disproved those theories in the twenty-third century,” Picard said.

Beverly paused. “I never realized how difficult it is to discuss archaeology with those who have studied it in the field.”

Picard gave her a sheepish look and nodded for her to continue.

“Thank you,” she said with a wry smile. “While I do know those theories were disproven, I think it’s possible something like that happened here. If this supposed treasure was stolen from all over the galaxy, maybe these pirates or collectors or whatever you want to call them got more than they’d bargained for. Perhaps some kind of bacterial hitchhiker stowed away on a piece of artwork. Something that reacted badly when it was introduced to a new ecosystem. It would have been harmless on the planet it originated, but deadly here to these people.”

“Like The War of the Worlds,” Picard said.

“The H. G. Wells story?” Vash asked. “The fictional H. G. Wells story?”

Picard smiled. Beverly was right: It was sometimes difficult to discuss theories with an archaeologist, even among those who were trained in the science.

“A microbial infection killed the so-called Martians that invaded Earth in that story,” Crusher said. “But we don’t have to look to fiction or superstitions for our theory. There are countless examples of races being unable to survive any number of conditions that do not exist on their homeworld. It’s one of the bases of our planet classification system so we know when it’s safe to explore a world and when it isn’t.”

“A sound theory, Doctor,” Picard said. “And while it is something worth exploring on a larger scale in the future should we ever return to this planet, I am having a difficult time understanding how it helps us in our present situation.”

Beverly smiled with the pride of a novice showing up the experts. “If this treasure is the cause of some plague that killed everyone on this planet, all we have to do is trace it back to its point of origin through the quarantine zone. The treasure will be found at ground zero.”

8

“None of these buildings are barricaded,” Vash said, pushing a door open. “Inside or out. The doors aren’t locked. There don’t seem to be any dead inside.”

“I guess that means we’re getting close,” Beverly replied as she led.

They’d been traveling for hours, making a circuitous journey through the city. At first it had seemed like the plague—if that’s what it was—had been directly at the center of town. They had been moving in that direction until the barricades changed from the outsides of the buildings to the insides once again. It was just as Picard and Vash had encountered when they’d arrived. Their working theory was that people trapped themselves indoors to protect against the spread of the plague as it widened. That suggested these people had been moving away from ground zero.

It had been a relatively uncomplicated trek through the streets. A few times they had to take cover from the animals that stalked the streets at night. But these were not stealthy creatures, and they had plenty of warning before it was necessary to hide.

They did not cross paths with Burinda and Goztik, though at several points Picard felt the sensation that they were being watched. He’d learned years before not to dismiss inexplicable sensations like that, but thus far none of them had proven to be real. At least he had not found any definitive evidence that anyone was in the vicinity.

Even with the occasional pit stops and diverted routes to see if they were not alone, it was a fascinating journey through a dead planet. Picard had witnessed the remains of extinct societies before, both in his studies and in his travels. It was always surprising how races reacted to massive threats. There were usually similarities in group behavior when fear took over, but each society told a different story. He could read the tale of the Myndrans like the rings of a tree.

Q had deposited Picard and Vash at the beginning, with the last line of defense on the outer edges of the city. People locked themselves away, hoping the disease did not find them. They were already in enough of a weakened state that they could not build substantial barricades, but tried whatever they could to hold on to that last attempt at something, anything, that would save them.

The barricades grew stronger as they moved into the city. That was where people still had the strength to protect themselves, when they thought they could keep the spread contained. The barricades went from outside the buildings to inside, when the focus shifted from protecting the populace to individuals saving themselves.

They’d reached what they now thought to be the inner ring with the buildings that had no barricades. The doors were unlocked and welcoming, as if everyone was simply at home, tucked in for the night.

“Ground zero,” Beverly said as they finished their tour of the periphery. The completely abandoned section of the city stretched out for roughly six square city blocks—“square” being a relative term, since it wasn’t as if someone had blocked off a perfect quarantine area. Random buildings with barricades peppered the area that backed up against a waterway that cut through the back end of the city.

“The treasure should be in one of the buildings in the vicinity,” Picard said with a resigned sigh. The structures were in the most crowded section of the city. Skyscrapers mingled with smaller buildings, as well as a vast complex along the outer edge of the area that took up an entire city block on its own.

“That’s got to be at least a hundred possibilities,” Vash noted. “I still can’t make heads or tails of the street signs or writing on any of the buildings. How do we narrow it down? We could be searching this section of town for the rest of the week.”

“Maybe we should rest for a bit,” Crusher suggested. “Catch our breath.”

Vash sat on a long-abandoned bench. “Good idea, Doctor. I haven’t walked this much since the time I got lost in the desert outside Gol when I was looking for the Vulcan . . . never mind.”

Picard closed his eyes and ignored what Vash had almost said. It was better not to question what potential item of historical significance she might have absconded with from one of the galaxy’s most ancient people. He did not choose to ignore the fact that she was staring up at the sky again.

He’d first noticed her doing that in the museum as the sun set beyond the dome, while she was taking the glowing stones out of the wall. She’d thought he was just talking to Beverly at the time, but he’d had his eye on her as well.

Her gaze rose to the heavens more frequently as the night grew darker and the stars had come out. It was more than just stargazing. Picard could see it had a purpose. “Plotting the constellations?”

Vash smiled. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

“It was either that or you were nursing a nosebleed in an ill-advised fashion,” Picard joked.

“I just want to be prepared,” Vash said. “In case Q returns us home without the treasure. If I can locate the celestial bodies on some kind of map, it might be possible to find my way back.”

“And how would you do that?” Crusher asked. “It’s not like you can hitch a ride on the next transport to the Delta Quadrant.”

“If I’ve learned anything from being friends with Captain Picard of the Starship Enterprise,” Vash said, “it’s that anything is possible when it comes to space travel.”

Picard understood. If the Voyager crew could make their way across seventy thousand light-years in a fraction of the time it should have taken, he had no doubt that Vash would find a way to get to the very edge of the galaxy with the proper motivation. The Treasure of the Ancients was exactly the right kind of motivation.

“Do you ever wonder what things would have been like had you stayed in Q’s company?” Picard asked. “Adventures like this could have been commonplace by now.”

“Then they would no longer be adventures, would they?” She let out a deep sigh. “Truthfully, yes. I wonder all the time. But as much as my lifestyle is a nice break for you, Q’s antics are nothing more than an entertainment for him. I can’t live like that. It’s too hectic. Too frenetic.” She caught Picard’s smile. “Yes, Jean-Luc. Even for me.”

“Do you regret trying to live like that?” he asked, knowing the question was loaded. If she had stayed in the Alpha Quadrant and had been able to communicate with him more often, or even visit, things could have turned out much differently for them.

“Not for a moment.” Vash raised her head to look back up at the star-filled sky. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some stars to plot.”

“By all means,” Picard said. “I do believe I see a triple star system peeking out past the edge of that building. It will likely help you with your mental star chart.”

“Thanks, Jean-Luc.”

Picard left her to focus on the skies. He understood what she’d been saying. Vash had come back from her travels with Q years before. She and Picard had had barely any contact since then.

He went to join his intended on what looked to be the remains of a bench a few feet away. There were many things he wanted to say to Beverly—not the least of which was his appreciation for her literally crossing the galaxy to find him—but now didn’t seem the time for words. Instead, both lifted their eyes to the sky to see the stars that Vash studied. They were likely the only humans to ever view them from this angle. Might as well enjoy it while they were there.

After a few minutes, Picard stood to consider their options. From their position, two streets branched off into the area they’d termed “ground zero.” He looked to Beverly. “Any suggestions, based on your observations?”

Beverly shook her head and shrugged. “Obviously, it would be one of the buildings in the center of the area.”

“That narrows it down to fifty,” Vash said as she joined them. “Still a complicated search. Time is limited. I haven’t seen the competition, but I doubt they’re too far behind us.”

Picard started moving down the street to his right. “There must be a logical way to narrow the search. Beverly, are there any other clues to the possible path of this infection across the city?”

“Not that I can think of,” Crusher replied. “Too much time has passed. The animals and the elements have erased any clues I could find without a tricorder.”

“Are we sure we’re even on the right path?” Vash asked. “We’ve moved so far away from what looked to be the arts district. I would have thought that art treasures would have been stored there.”

Picard stopped to examine the buildings around him. “You’re right, Vash. I don’t recognize any artistic influences from any recognizable races in these buildings. They are almost uniform in their alien design.”

“And boring,” Vash added.

Picard couldn’t disagree. The supposed arts district had dramatic extremes in architectural influences, from giant Grecian columns to the massive domed museum to the obelisk. Even the buildings at the outer edge of town had some small touches of interesting visual elements. The structures at this end of the city were simpler, more basic. These were almost . . .

“A blank canvas,” Picard said.

Crusher and Vash looked at him questioningly, waiting for more.

“The entire city has been laid out as a work of art,” Picard explained. “And a historical document, in a way. At the outer edge of town, where Q introduced us to this world, there was nothing extravagant in the building design. It was largely functional architecture with some decorative detail. All the designs worked very well together, as if it were typical of Myndran architecture.”

“But it wasn’t,” Vash said, taking up his line of thought. “Because even those first buildings had small elements taken from other cultures.”

“Nothing that we would have noticed at first blush,” Picard continued. “We would have just chalked it up to one of the many coincidences in societies across the galaxy.”

“There are only so many ways to construct a wall,” Crusher added.

“Precisely,” Picard said. “But then we hit an explosion of obvious influences from other societies.”

“The so-called arts district where we met up,” Crusher said.

“Which led into neighborhoods that were distinctly representative of other worlds,” Picard said.

“Of course you noticed that too,” Vash agreed. “I thought we were in some ancient amusement park, where each street was designed to represent a different society.”

“I think those streets were laid out in accordance with the society they visited,” Picard said. “On one street you’d have the Romulans, while on the next some Gamma Quadrant race thousands of light-years away. Those influences then coalesced into the arts district, where everything exploded into a riot of influences before settling into one distinct look for the Myndrans, taking a little bit of influence from every race they visited.”

Vash nodded in agreement, her eyes lost in the memory of their travels.

“So, working inward, we get to the origin point.” Picard raised an arm out to the buildings around them with their basic, more industrial design. “Where we are now. The treasure should be stored in the most basic of these buildings. The one with no artistic embellishments of any kind.”

“A blank canvas,” Crusher said, echoing Picard.

Picard smiled. He was certain they had figured it out.

It took only two turns to find the building they’d described. It wasn’t the tallest on the block. It wasn’t the widest. It stood out in no discernible way, which is what made it stand out completely.

The outer walls were smooth, formed by some kind of concrete. The few windows were small and deep set. It was all utilitarian in design and, likely, function. The two metal doors in the front of the building were the only element that called any attention to the building at all. And they were practically screaming to be noticed.

Alien writing covered the doors. It was interesting that the words were barely noticeable until they were standing right in front of the building, as if purposely hidden to keep that blank-canvas mystique. The same, unreadable language now clearly ran from top to bottom—or bottom to top, depending on how the Myndrans read.

Vash approached the doors. There was no handle, or any clear way to open them. “What do you think it says? A warning to keep out?”

“The writing looks etched into the metal,” Picard said as he joined her. “Something more permanent. It’s probably been here as long as the doors have stood.”

As Picard pressed his hand onto the metal to see if the door pushed open, it began to glow crimson. He pulled away the moment he felt a warm sensation under his fingers.

“What happened?” Crusher asked, grabbing his hand to give it a quick examination.

“Nothing,” Picard said. “Just some warmth. It surprised me, is all.”

“The writing changed,” Vash said.

Picard and Crusher looked up from his hand to see that the lettering was different. It was still in a script that they did not recognize, but it no longer looked like the Myndran text they’d seen around the city.

“I think it wants to be touched,” Vash said as she did just that. Once again a crimson glow emitted from the door as the letters shifted. They took on new shapes—some unusual, others more familiar. Klingon and Vulcan symbols came up before quickly shifting to other languages. Vash held her hand to the door as her own flesh began to glow with the same light.

“Vash . . .” Picard warned.

“It’s okay, Jean-Luc,” she said. “Feels like a hand massage.”

The letters continued to shift through more recognizable languages until they finally settled on Federation Standard. Vash quickly pulled her hand away, smiling. Not only were the letters familiar, but the words were as well. “The riddle of the Sphinx,” she said. “Well, the most popular one, at least.”

The words barely covered half the door. It was considerably less text than many of the other languages had revealed:

“What is that which has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?”

Picard almost laughed. It was so elementary a puzzle. “The Myndrans must have designed it so that if anyone came to reclaim their treasure, they could easily gain access. I suspect the other languages revealed equally simple puzzles.”

“Or it was another way for Myndran society to appreciate the spoils of the races they had stolen from,” Vash suggested. “Learn the language, solve the puzzle. Just because we know the answer doesn’t mean it would be as easy for them.”

Crusher stepped forward to join them. “I may not have studied under the esteemed Doctor Richard Galen, but even I know the correct response is ‘man.’ But how do we use that to get inside?”

Picard raised his hand to the door again, laying a finger on the “m” in “becomes.” It immediately lit up in the same crimson glow, but the rest of the metal door remained normal. He then pressed his finger to the “a” in “and,” which earned him a similar reaction from the door.

As he slid his finger to the “n,” Vash grabbed him. “Hold on, Jean-Luc. I want this treasure as much as the next person”—Vash looked to her companions—“or more than the next person, in this case. Do we really want to be the first ones to open that door?”

Picard turned to his fiancée. “You are certain that whatever affected these people is no longer active in there, right, Beverly?”

Crusher shrugged. “Anything is possible. It’s possible we’d be immune to it, whatever it is. What it really seems to come down to is that we’re not going to get off this planet if we don’t go inside that building. Or do I misunderstand Q’s plan here?”

“No,” Vash said. “That’s pretty much the situation.”

“Well then, we might as well go inside.” Crusher placed her own finger on the last letter in the response and held her hand there as all the letters glowed crimson, before the entire door shifted to a bright blue. The doors swung inward, welcoming them inside. Crusher was the first to enter, doing so without hesitation.

“I get what you see in her,” Vash said as she followed.

Picard was the last to enter. None of them had died upon crossing the threshold. It was a positive sign.

Finally, the glowing stones they carried from the museum had proven useful. The building interior was as dark as it would be inside an actual vault. The few windows they’d seen from the outside were on higher floors. There was nothing on this level that gave even the appearance of being a light source.

They angled the stones’ glow around the room. A few signs in the indecipherable alien language hung on the walls. They made for interesting decor but were of no use to them. Otherwise, the room was completely empty. No sign of bodies. No barricades. No indication whatsoever of what had tried to bust out the doors. The only thing of note was the wide spiral staircase in the center of the room, leading up into the ceiling and down into the floor.

“This building looks like it’s about thirty stories tall,” Beverly said as they approached the stairs. “Where do we even start?”

Picard and Vash replied: “Down.”

Beverly placed her hands on her hips. “You can’t be serious.”

“If this supposed treasure has been collected and stored,” Picard began, “it makes more sense to keep it underground in a climate-controlled setting. The building appears quite formidable, but even the few windows we saw could allow for light that would harm the precious artwork rumored to be stored here.”

“Besides,” Vash added, “there’s nothing more enticing than buried treasure.”

Crusher smiled as she moved to the staircase. “Okay, we go down.”

“Careful,” Vash warned with a smile. “Don’t want to set off any booby traps.”

“Vash, this is hardly an ancient temple in some old vid,” Picard reminded her.

“Well, of course not,” Vash said. “That would be easy. What we have here is a potential storehouse of the greatest treasures in the galaxy collected by an incredibly advanced civilization that wanted to protect them for future civilizations. I’m surprised we weren’t vaporized the moment we walked through the door.”

Crusher looked at the staircase that wound down beneath her feet. “Perhaps someone with more experience in these situations would like to go first.”

Vash pushed her way past. “Gladly.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Crusher whispered as she followed with Picard.

“You do realize the purpose of that entire charade was so that Vash would get to lead this expedition?” Picard countered as he and Beverly followed down the staircase.

Crusher grinned. “Of course.”

The staircase wound deep down into the bowels of the building. There were no doors, no levels to step off and explore. It was one continuous spiral that took them lower several dozen meters before depositing them on some level far beneath the ground.

The long hall stretched on into the darkness beyond the point their glowing stones could illuminate. Vash did not slow as she plunged into the darkness, heedless to any dangers that could lie in wait.

“So much for booby traps,” Crusher joked as she and Picard hurried to keep up.

Vash’s stride grew faster as the hall twisted and turned in different directions. Another path never materialized. No side halls broke off from the main. More signage in alien script lined the walls with every step of their journey, but there was nothing but more hallway ahead of them. It almost felt to Picard as if this were some holding area where people would line up in anticipation of getting in to see the treasure. As if this were some kind of tourist destination, like the old amusement parks he’d seen photos of on Earth. All in all it added to the ridiculousness of the entire situation in which they had found themselves.

“Did you hear that?” Crusher asked. She stopped to listen while Vash continued on ahead.

Picard stopped with her. “What?”

“I’m not sure,” Crusher said. “Like wind howling through the hall behind us? But we didn’t pass any other openings, and we’re a little too far below the surface for wind to be whipping through anything.”

Picard strained to listen, but all he could hear were Vash’s footsteps moving farther away.

“I don’t hear it anymore,” Crusher said. “Maybe it was nothing.”

“Or it could be anything,” Picard said. “But Vash’s impatience seems the more pressing concern. We should catch up with her.”

“I found something!” Vash called out from far ahead. They could barely see the glow of her light, she’d managed to put so much distance between them.

Picard and Crusher hurried down the hall, listening for any additional sounds, while keeping their eyes on Vash.

The rogue archaeologist hadn’t traveled as far as they’d initially thought. She just hadn’t been directly ahead of them when she’d called out. The hall had opened up into a room and some of the glow of her light had disappeared beyond the edge of the opening, making it seem smaller and farther ahead.

They were in some kind of antechamber, about the size of the Enterprise bridge. The space was mostly empty save for one wall that was dominated by huge metal doors that looked far more formidable than the ones that they’d used to enter the building.

Vash was already at the doors, examining them with the glowing stone. Some sort of device bulged out at the center. It had her focus.

“It’s a locking mechanism,” she explained when they reached her. “Mechanical. There’s a hole for some kind of key.”

“It looks . . . intricate.” Picard held his own glowing stone up to the device. A collection of cogs and gears peeked out of the metal housing, only hinting at the mechanics that must have been inside the lock.

“I don’t know how . . .” Vash started to say before trailing off. Her hand reached up to the pith helmet.

“What is it, Vash?” Picard asked.

“Q.” She removed the hat and slid her hand around the inside. “He once challenged me to get through a door without his special powers. Gave me a pith helmet like this and told me to use my head. I found a metal rod along the rim and was able to use it to pick the lock.” She pulled a metal rod out of the hat that she now held. “It took me a half hour and the lock didn’t seem half as complicated as this one, but I can give it a try.”

Crusher stepped up to her and took the metal rod out of her hand. “Let me give it a go.”

“Pick many old-fashioned locks, have you, Beverly?” Vash asked.

The doctor slid the metal rod into the lock, closing her eyes to allow her sense of touch to guide her. “At Starfleet Medical, I took a class in medical practices of the past. By the end of the semester we were trained to do numerous intricate surgeries with only the aid of ancient scalpels and sutures and the like. It gave us the opportunity to hone our skills of manual dexterity. For extra credit the instructor had us use those skills in other ways.” The lock clicked, followed by the sound of mechanisms set in motion.

Beverly stood and handed the metal rod back to Vash. “I was top of the class.”

Vash smiled. “I like her, Jean-Luc.”

“I’m so glad you approve,” Picard replied drolly, as they listened to the gears shift. The lock did not open all at once. It took a few moments of whirs and clicks as they stepped back to listen.

“It’s odd,” Vash said, examining the hat while they waited. “Why would Q leave this helmet for Beverly to find? Did he know she’d come up with a way to get here? That we would need to pick a lock?”

“That seems like an awful lot of assumption,” Picard said.

“He does claim to be omniscient,” Crusher said.

“But if his goal was to distract me from Beverly, why would he plot to send her here with the means to assist us?” Picard asked. “What exactly is his endgame?”

They could not come up with an answer before the final click of the lock released and the bolt holding the door shut came unlatched.

“We’ll leave that mystery for another time,” Vash said with a hand on the door. “Now, who gets to do the honors?”

“I think that would be us.” The voice came from the end of the hall. That voice was accompanied by an ominous growl.

Picard turned with his companions to see that their competition had caught up with them.

“Move away from the door,” Burinda warned. “And you can leave with your lives intact. Sure, you may spend the rest of your days alone on a deserted planet, but that’s the trade-off. It looks like you’ve already made a new friend since we last met.”

“We’re not leaving you with the treasure!” Vash replied. “Not a chance.”

Picard wasn’t as certain as Vash was that this was the right response. Burinda wasn’t making an empty threat. Goztik held one of the creatures on a leash fashioned out of a long metal pole. In the other hand he held his disruptor.

“You can have the treasure,” Picard said. “We just want to go home.”

The pole in Goztik’s hand kept the animal several feet away from its captors while it strained to get at the people in front of it. The Nausicaan held tight to the metal bar, but all he had to do was release it and any discussion on salvage rights would come to an abrupt end. Picard wasn’t about to argue the point.

“Jean-Luc!” Vash spoke in a stage whisper through clenched teeth.

“The treasure will do none of us any good if we’re stuck on this planet,” he said, loud enough so that everyone could hear. “If we find it together, Q will have to let us go. Together.”

“And if we set this animal loose on you, we don’t have to worry about her stabbing us in the back.” Burinda pointed to Vash, though it was quite clear about whom she was speaking.

Crusher leaned in and whispered: “Vash, you know this person. Do you think she would kill us for a treasure?”

“For most treasures?” Vash said. “No. But this is the find of a lifetime. I can’t begin to guess what she would do with it so close.”

“Right now there is no treasure,” Picard reminded them all as he took a step back. He wanted to believe they wouldn’t kill them. The creature was just there for effect. Certainly Goztik’s disruptor would have done a sufficient job on its own. “We still do not know what is behind this door. This could all be for nothing.”

Picard’s goal was just to get the door open. So long as he or Beverly was the one to set eyes on the treasure first, he was confident that Q would keep his word and let them go home. Vash had her own relationship with Q, and Picard suspected that she would be able to play on that to get herself safely back to wherever she had been plucked from. He wasn’t as concerned about the others, but since they were the very definition of innocent bystanders, it stood to reason that Q would dismiss them easily once his game was done.

“Touch that door and the treasure will be the last thing you have to worry about,” Burinda said. “Now step away.”

“That animal looks like it will just as soon attack you as it will us,” Vash said. Picard suspected she was right. The animal was twisting its head around, snapping its jaws at Goztik as much as it was hungry for them. It was possible that it would go after the ones that had trapped it in the metal leash.

“Would you like us to release it and take the risk?” Burinda asked.

Picard took a few steps to the left, moving away from the door. “Fine. You win.”

“Jean-Luc!”

“Vash, they clearly have the upper hand,” Picard said. “It is time to submit.”

“Are you sure about this?” Crusher joined him off to the side of the room.

“No,” Picard said. “But see how Goztik is struggling against the creature? I don’t think any of us has the time to negotiate.”

The Nausicaan had put away his disruptor so he could use both hands to grasp the metal bar as the creature fought against him. It growled and snapped, creating an awful ruckus, punctuated by howls that sounded like the wind whipping through the tunnels.

“What’s to stop them from letting the animal loose as soon as they get inside the room?” Crusher asked over the animal noises.

“An agreement,” Picard said, shouting over the din. “We formally give up any and all right to whatever is on the other side of that door. I would be happy to write that down if we had anything to write with. But I give you my word as a Starfleet captain that you will have the right to whatever is found today. I just want to get home. Do we have an agreement?”

Burinda seemed to be considering. “We would if . . . Where is Vash?”

“Vash?” Picard looked to his side. Only Beverly was there.

Burinda and Goztik took a step forward. The creature’s growling increased. The sound was sharp and painful in the subterranean space.

“You thought that by distracting me, it would allow Vash to get to the treasure first?” Burinda’s voice rose even louder in anger. It did not help calm the animal. “You think that just because she got inside, that will stop me from taking it out on you?”

The animal’s barks grew loud and shrill. Picard edged his way back to the door with Beverly, silently cursing Vash for closing it behind her. “I suggest lowering your voice—”

“I will do no such thing!” Burinda said. The creature howled in response to her yell. Its head whipped around in all directions as the metal pole bent backward.

“Burinda,” Goztik warned.

“Enough!” she screamed. “Gostik, unleash the—”

Before she even finished her sentence, the pole snapped from the weight of the straining creature. Jean-Luc threw himself in front of Beverly, bracing for the claws and teeth that never came. The howls he heard now were less animalistic. They came from Goztik. The creature had turned on him the moment it was free.

Picard didn’t waste a second, flinging the door open. “Inside! Quick!”

Beverly ran past as he held open the door.

Burinda was only steps behind her, pushing her way in.

Picard stood at the door for a moment, seeking out an opportunity. Half the metal pole lay on the other side of the room. The other part of it was still attached to the creature’s neck as it tore into Goztik’s body. Even if Picard could reach the weapon, it was no use. It was already too late for the Nausicaan.

Picard quickly shut the door before the creature turned its attack on them.

9

“I knew I couldn’t trust you!”

“Why would you think you could? You were just as ready to kill me to get to the treasure! All I did was slip inside a door!”

“This is just like that time on Vhetti Prime!”

“Yes! Except you were the one who slipped past me! How could you forget that? You left me hanging—”

“Don’t you two ever give it a rest?” Crusher’s yell drowned out the voices, silencing them at least for the time being.

Picard could barely be bothered with their argument. Once he’d ascertained that the door was securely closed behind them, he focused his attention on the room before them. The darkness was so deep that even with the glowing stone in his hand he could barely see a few meters in front of him. And yet he knew they’d reached their destination.

They could have been in a room the size of a large closet, for all he knew from the blackness surrounding them, but he was certain they were not. The air just felt different. As if the space they were in went on forever.

Picard took several careful steps forward until he came upon a wall.

No. It was not a wall. The surface had a curvature to it. He lifted the glowing stone. It was three-dimensional.

Beverly and Vash joined him with their stones. The combined light brightened the area enough to show that they were in front of the giant statue of a warrior of some kind. The head was too high up to see, but the sculpted uniform was nothing like any Picard had encountered in his travels.

“The Atraxist Soldier,” Burinda said behind them, with awe in her voice. “I can’t believe it’s really true.”

“Atraxist Soldier?” Vash repeated.

“Never you mind,” Burinda said. “If you can’t even identify it, you can’t dare to claim it.”

Picard let out a sigh. “Let’s not start that again.”

“We have to find some light,” Vash said as she moved around the space. Every step she took illuminated some other piece of the treasure: a stone tablet with pictographs, a pile of gemstones carved in fractal patterns, scrolls of faded parchment. “There has to be a light source somewhere!”

Picard felt the stone pulling against his hand. It was definitely getting warmer. From the look on Beverly’s face as she stared at her own, both were experiencing the same sensation. With a shrug, they opened their palms and the stones rose out of their hands.

“What the—” Vash’s stone rose into the air as well.

All three of the glowing stones levitated, lighting more of the Atraxist Soldier as they climbed higher into the air. A helmet obscured the statue’s face, leaving the alien’s true visage a mystery as the stones quickly rose above it.

As the stones rose, their glow brightened, leaving the treasure hunters dimly illuminated and revealing more of the room. Paintings. Statuary. Mosaics. It was all revealed.

The stones came together with a loud snap as a burst of light exploded out from them, momentarily blinding everyone. When Picard’s eyes readjusted to the light, he saw that the entire room was illuminated. And what a room it was.

The cavernous space stretched on seemingly forever. From his vantage point, he could not even see three of the four walls. They were so far back, with so many wondrous sights in the way.

Alien artifacts filled every centimeter of space for as far as the eye could see. Most were unfamiliar to Picard, but every once in a while he could pick out a recognizable style: a rare piece that looked like something from a lost civilization or a more familiar artifact that he could name on sight. It was impossible to believe that they were all gathered in one place. And part of him refused to believe it was true even though it was right in front of him.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Q!” the quartet called out in unison.

Their kidnapper had materialized on what looked very much like a throne made of diamonds or some similar gem. He was dressed in gold and silver robes and held a matching chalice that he raised in their direction. “And Vash was first to lay eyes on it. Exactly as I expected.”

Burinda’s shouts eclipsed those of everyone else, though she was not the only one directing her rage at Q. “Are we supposed to be surprised by this? You put this whole farce in motion as some kind of gift to your partner there. Even gave them the unfair advantage of an extra person to help out. They never would have found it on their own.”

“Yes,” Q said, eyeing Beverly. “Doctor Crusher is a formidable woman. She would be, to earn Picard’s love.”

“I deserve this treasure,” Burinda insisted. “I am the one here on my own at the end. You cannot cheat me out of my rightful claim.”

Q laughed loudly and far longer than the situation called for. “Of course I can, Burinda. Have we not met? Back to the Gamma Quadrant with you!” With a wave of his hand, the woman was gone before she could log another protest.

“That was quite an impressive display of treasure hunting,” Q said, tipping an imaginary hat in Beverly’s direction. “Although nothing compares to the bold move of Vash abandoning her partners facing down a raging animal while she went off to collect the spoils on her own. Well played, Vash. That’s just the cutthroat, winner-take-all attitude I’ve missed.”

“Thanks?” Vash said, unsure of herself.

“Okay, Q,” Picard said. “We played your game. We found the treasure. It is time to send us home.”

“No, Jean-Luc,” Q said. “You did not technically find the treasure. As we’ve established, Vash was first to set her eyes on it. You were merely along for the ride.”

“I seem to recall us doing a fair bit of the piloting,” Beverly said.

Q nodded. “True. True. But there can only be one winner.”

“Then what, may I ask, was supposed to be our lesson in all this?” Picard asked.

“Lesson?” Q seemed genuinely confused.

“There’s always some lesson,” Picard said. “Some ill-advised, misguided message you’re trying to teach us. So what was the purpose of this farce, as Burinda called it? Why did you kidnap me on the eve of my wedding and drop us into some plague-ridden planet? I swear, Q, if we are infected with an—”

Q barked out a laugh. “Jean-Luc! You should know if I ever wanted you dead, I wouldn’t let some virus take your life. I’d do it myself. In some wonderfully ironic manner. With props.”

“Be that as it may,” Picard said. “You could not possibly think I would have left Beverly because of this adventure.”

“Jean-Luc, how egotistical to believe that any of this was about you.”

“You just as well said it was about me,” Picard reminded him. “Claiming it was your duty as best man.”

“Jean-Luc”—Q stepped down from his gemstone throne and approached them, smiling his smug, arrogant, frustrating smile—“how silly of you to believe anything I say.”

“Then what was this about?” Crusher demanded.

“Why, it was about her.” He tipped his chalice in Vash’s direction.

“Me?”

Q appeared genuinely shocked by her surprise. He put down the chalice and took her hands in his. “Who else would I have put together this little adventure for? Honestly, I thought you three, of all people in the galaxy, would have picked up on it by now.”

Vash pulled her hand free but only stared in confusion.

“Why don’t you explain it to us mere mortals?” Picard deadpanned.

Q let out a deep, overly dramatic sigh before lying prostrate on a gold and silk settee. “I have once again grown weary of this unending, existentially vapid existence.”

“So you decided to pick on your favorite playthings?” Picard asked. “Q, this is getting tiresome.”

Q sat upright. “That’s exactly my point. It’s all so tiresome. Nothing is as exciting as it was back when Vash and I were exploring the galaxy together, sneaking into forbidden places, tweaking petty thieves like Burinda.”

“You left me stranded in the Gamma Quadrant,” Vash reminded him.

“Which led us to that wonderful little excursion on that dank, depressing space station,” Q countered.

Now Vash let out an exaggerated sigh.

Picard held back a smile. He’d always wondered what had happened to them after they left the Enterprise together. It wasn’t that he found the situation they were currently in humorous, but it was nice to know that he’d been correct in assuming that a partnership with Q would not be as smooth as Vash had thought it would be. But he was far too mature for an “I told you so.”

“You’re saying all of this was arranged to convince Vash to explore the galaxy with you again?” Crusher asked. “You kidnapped us and flung us across space so you could have your playmate back?”

“You should be honored,” Q insisted. “I didn’t just pluck anyone out of the cosmos. I chose you.”

“You’re saying Goztik had to die simply because you were too pigheaded to simply ask Vash to join you again?” It wasn’t the first time lives had been lost to satisfy Q’s warped sense of priorities, but it never got any less sickening.

Q waved a hand dismissively. “Not at all. The big lug is safely back in the Alpha Quadrant. It was all an act, you know. I was playing the part of the creature. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me.”

“Now that you mention it, there was something familiar about the animal’s stench,” Vash said.

“See! You did miss me. That makes this all the easier.” Q was up from the settee and then down on one knee in front of Vash, grabbing her hand again and refusing to let go. “Will you do me the honor of traveling the cosmos as my partner again, to see what kind of trouble we can get into?”

“Well, isn’t this nice?” a woman said as she stepped out from behind the leg of the soldier statue. Picard didn’t know her, but she did match the description of the female Q in Admiral Janeway’s reports from her time in the Delta Quadrant. “Every time I turn around you seem to be throwing yourself at another human woman.”

“Oh dear, the old ball and chain,” Q said. “Emphasis on—”

“Timeless, dear,” she replied before he could let the insult slip out. “Timeless.”

“Thank you for showing up,” Crusher said as she grabbed her fiancé by the arm. “Could you please send us home? We don’t need to be here for this.”

The woman looked as if she were considering it, but she shook her head. “I’m more interested in seeing how this plays out.” She moved to Q’s diamond throne and waved a hand in his general direction. “Continue.”

Q cleared his throat. “I hadn’t planned for there to be such an audience.”

Vash’s hand was still in Q’s, so she pulled him up off his knee and guided him back to his now occupied throne. “Let me cut to the chase.” She put Q’s hand in the woman’s. “I don’t know exactly who you are, but you can have him.”

The female Q released his hand as soon as he touched her. “I did not say that I wanted him. I am perfectly content traveling the galaxy on my own or with my own companions. He and I tried that once and it didn’t work out.”

“And we have only a son to show for it,” Q said dismissively.

“What about that son?” Crusher asked. “Why aren’t you interfering in his life?”

“Oh, you know how it is, Bev,” Q said. “They grow up so fast. Become transdimensional beings capable of flying through time and space on their own. Leaving you alone. Which is the crux of the problem, isn’t it? Nobody loves me.”

“Perhaps you have to find solace in yourself before you can find it in others,” Picard said. “I finally understand why you pulled me and Beverly into this mess. You can’t stand to see me happy. You think if I’m happy, if I’ve found someone, then it somehow makes me better than you.”

“Are you suggesting I have an inferiority complex?”

“I am suggesting you have relationship issues,” Picard replied. As he spoke with Q, he saw Vash pocketing some of the gems with the fractal designs. He did his best not to react, for fear of giving her away. It was wise of her to act while Q was distracted. Picard doubted any of them were getting out of there with the Treasure of the Ancients. That would have been simply too generous for Q. And that was the heart of his problem.

“It’s not easy having relationships with people when you’re intrinsically so much more interesting than everyone else,” Q said.

“Well then, one would assume you’re more than capable of entertaining yourself,” Picard countered. He was not about to enter some counseling session with a being that claimed to have all the answers in the universe yet continually failed to make the most basic realizations about life.

“Okay,” Q said. “Fine. I will go off on my own to explore whatever there is that I have yet to explore. Is everybody happy?”

“I will be when you send me home with this treasure,” Vash said.

Q looked at her incredulously. “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

Vash rolled her eyes. “Because you promised?”

“I only promised to send the person who found the treasure home,” Q said. “I never said anything about that treasure going with her.”

And with a snap of Q’s finger, Vash was gone.

“Really, Jean-Luc, I don’t know what you ever saw in her,” Q said.

“No,” Picard agreed, glad to see that she’d managed to go off with at least something to show for her troubles. “You wouldn’t.”

“I like him,” the female Q said. “You do seem to choose the most fascinating playthings, dear.”

Q bowed his head. “I know.” He turned his attention back to the remaining humans. “Now, Jean-Luc, about you.”

“We don’t need any of the treasure,” Picard said. “We just want to go back to France.”

Q waved him off. “Oh, pish-posh. I realize I may have had an ulterior motive or two, but as your best man—”

“You are not my best man.”

“—as your best man,” he continued, “I did want to give you a gift. And the only thing I knew to give the man who has everything, including a starship, was one last adventure.”

Picard had so many things he could say to that, but none of them would get them out of the predicament they were in or teach Q any lesson of value whatsoever. So he merely said, “Thank you. That was very thoughtful. And, as challenging as it was, we ultimately enjoyed it.”

“Oh, you mistake me once again,” Q said. “The adventure is only beginning.”

Q waved his hand in a circular motion, and the statues and jewels and other artwork slid back from the area. Even the gem of a throne the female Q sat upon slid backward, causing her to clutch the arms of the chair to keep from sliding off. The floor rumbled and then a section of it dropped away, becoming a staircase descending into an even lower level of the vault.

Q held his hands out to Picard and Crusher. “Come,” he said. “Your new adventure awaits.”

10

Neither Picard nor Crusher took Q’s offered hands, but they followed him down the staircase together while the other Q trailed behind. It was a surprisingly long walk down the staircase into darkness, as only their leader seemed to be illuminated by a mysterious light. The symbolism of following Q down into the dark depths was too obvious for Picard to mention, so he just took Beverly’s hand in his and remained silent while the next stage of this grand plan played out.

They finally reached the bottom of the staircase. They were so deep below the upper level that the remaining light from that floor barely reached them. All they had to see by was Q’s glow.

With a smile from the powerful prankster, the glow intensified, quickly expanding to include Picard, Crusher, and the female Q, before spreading wider and lighting the room.

Enormous white columns were the first things to be revealed, reaching high up to a triangular roof. The columns guarded the entrance to a large stone building that spread out before them in all directions. Picard could not make out the full size of the building from his vantage point, but the front wall was enough to suggest that it was enormous.

Q raised an arm in presentation. “I give you the Library of Alexandria!”

This time Crusher was the first to speak. “You’re giving this to us?”

Q laughed. “Well, no. I meant ‘give you’ in the sense of ‘present to you.’ I like you people and all, but your actual wedding gift is a portable food replicator. The Myndrans went to a lot of trouble transporting this here, as they did with all the treasures. You can’t just take them away any more than Vash could take those gemstones she tried to sneak off with. You have to earn the right to a find of this magnitude. And as I have so often reminded you, humanity has not quite reached that level yet. Oh, but you’re getting there. You are getting there.”

Picard was still amazed by the discovery. If it was, in fact, the real Library of Alexandria from Earth’s ancient past, just being able to see it was almost enough for Picard. But, knowing Q, there was more to this than just a glimpse at history. “So, if you are not giving us the library, what is the purpose of this?”

Q pushed his way between Picard and Crusher and threw his arms around them. “Why, I’m giving you a wedding, of course!”

With another blinding flash of light, Picard was suddenly in his dress uniform and Crusher was gone.

“Q!” Picard yelled. “Bring her back this minute.”

“Now, now. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.” Q let go of Picard and moved to the entrance of the library. “She’s inside, waiting for you.”

Picard approached the library with caution. No telling what was actually inside. He did note that the other Q had disappeared as well. Whether that was his present tormentor’s doing or an act of her own accord was inconsequential. All that mattered was finding Beverly.

Picard was assaulted by the scent of the papyrus as they entered the building. Scrolls kept in pristine condition lined shelves from floor to ceiling as they made their way through the rooms. Any other time, Picard would have stopped to at least take a peek, but his thoughts were focused on one objective only: finding Beverly.

It wasn’t as if he thought she was in danger or that Q wasn’t going to do exactly as he’d said: throw them a wedding. But Picard had long since grown tired of this game. He was not sure how much time had passed on Earth, but they had only a forty-eight-hour leave. If they continued to go along with this charade, they might wind up having to return to the Enterprise without having their actual, legal ceremony.

Still, Picard allowed himself to take the time to appreciate the fact that he was walking through the buildings of the library that no other human had set foot in in millennia. Part of him still doubted that any of this was even real, still thought that it was just another of Q’s illusions. Either way, he knew that if it were a re-creation, Q would have spared no detail to make sure it was an exact replica, so Picard was walking through history in one form or another.

After passing through several scroll-filled rooms, they came out to a fragrant garden, with greenery reaching up to the bright sunlight.

“I sent us back in time as well,” Q said, explaining the blue sky up above. “You were so adamant about getting married back on Earth, I decided to send the library along with us to the place it originally stood in the century in which it was at its best. So you’re seeing it exactly as it once existed. That is also my wedding present to you.”

“Thank you, Q,” Picard said, and he meant it. At times, the frustrations of dealing with Q made it easy to forget that he actually knew Picard well. To experience a living piece of history was an incredible gift.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Another wave of his hand, and the empty garden was filled with people sitting in row after row of chairs. Riker and Troi were in the front row, along with Picard’s current crew and other friends and family. Marie sat beside Guinan, who had a look of distrust on her face as she eyed Q. The other faces in the crowd were neutral, as if this kind of thing happened to them every day.

“What have you—”

“They won’t remember any of this,” Q assured him. “In fact, they aren’t quite aware of it even now. I will also make it so that you and the good doctor can recall this day only on your anniversary, so that it doesn’t conflict with your own memories. Consider that a gift as well.”

“Thank you, Q,” Picard said again, and again he actually meant it.

“I know you are a private man, Jean-Luc—sometimes too private for your own good. But you can’t experience a momentous occasion like this without the people who are most important in your life. You taught me that.”

“Glad someone finally taught you something,” the female Q said as she approached the archway. She wore a dress with feathers and metal that looked entirely out of place for any event.

“Every wedding needs a crasher,” Q said, by way of explaining her presence. “Besides, we require a witness. One that will actually remember that this took place.”

“I really do have to get back to my party, though,” the woman said. “So if we could hurry this along.”

“Yes!” Q clapped his hands together. “To the wedding.”

Music filled the air, provided by some unseen orchestra playing the traditional march that had been played at human weddings for centuries. All the guests rose from their seats as one, suggesting that the motion wasn’t entirely of their control. It wasn’t even remotely the wedding Picard had imagined for himself, but seeing the faces of his friends—the family he was almost closer to than he’d been to his own—made it feel somehow right.

And then there was Beverly, bedecked in a stunning blue dress. It was a unique color choice but perfect on her. She looked beautiful on her son’s arm as they walked down the aisle. Wesley seemed just as semiconscious as the other guests as he escorted his mother up to the archway and handed her off to Picard.

“You look beautiful,” Picard said as he took her hand in his.

“Thank you,” she replied, with a nod to Q. “It’s nice to know he can do something right when he puts his mind to it.”

Q ignored her comment as he addressed the gathered crowd. “Dearly beloved, you have been abducted here today to witness the marriage of Jean-Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher. Now, I don’t know if these two crazy kids have crafted some beautifully considered and well thought out words for their vows, but I’d prefer to use mine, if you don’t mind.”

“I assume you’ll still do it even if we do mind,” said Picard.

“Oh, Jean-Luc, how you do know me.” Q cleared his throat. “When I met you, I thought you were nothing more than an insignificant bipedal creature playing captain on a starship too small for the enormity that is this galaxy. But over time, I have come to learn that you, and your starship, are far more than you may physically appear. Because you are not just one man. You are a collection of people and shared experiences that make the individual parts of you combine into one fascinating whole.”

Picard was genuinely moved by Q’s words. It wasn’t often that he was complimentary.

“Didn’t know I had it in me, did you?” Q said softly to Picard, before continuing: “Of the many experiences and the people who share your life, there is none that have come to mean so much to you as Beverly Crusher. Together, you have found the only treasure that matters in this existence. And I am so pleased to be the one that allows you now to bind it together through the great mysteries of the galaxy that I possess and share it with all that you know.”

Somehow, Picard knew that Q would bring the vows back to himself, but the message he was ultimately making trumped any egotistical statements. Beverly must have thought the same thing, because the smile she directed his way seemed to say the same.

“It is with great pleasure that, by the powers vested in me by the Continuum and all that is tied together in this galaxy, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

As one, the crowd burst into applause.

“What are you waiting for?” Q said. “Kiss her.”

Picard didn’t often follow Q’s advice, but this was one time he had every intention of doing what the troublemaker said. As he gently leaned forward, his lips met hers and they sealed their odd, impromptu, completely unofficial, and likely not legal wedding with a kiss.

A final flash of light emanated from Q’s fingers, and Picard and Crusher found themselves back in the guest house at the vineyard. But their whereabouts were of little concern at the moment. All that mattered was the kiss.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rudy Josephs is an author with eclectic tastes, having previously written books for Star Trek, the Footloose movie remake, and the WWE.

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ISBN 978-1-4767-7882-2

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the Author

Table of Contents

Cover

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the Author

Copyright