Norinda seemed unperturbed. “For your protection. The Tal Shiar is everywhere, and now they know you’ve been trying to reach them. Some among them aren’t pleased by that, Jean-Luc. They think it means you’ve stumbled on their plans, and so they’d prefer to kill you rather than talk.”
“But I have to talk with them. I must!”
“And I do know that,” Norinda said. “And I will arrange it. But I am sure you’d prefer to speak with a member of the Tal Shiar who will listen to you, instead of shooting you on sight.”
Now Picard felt awkward for having jumped to a negative conclusion. Norinda had been following up on her promise, after all. Complications had arisen, but that was understandable. If it was troubling for him to think of an entente between the Tal Shiar and the Federation, it was reasonable to think that the Tal Shiar would be equally skeptical.
“Thank you,” Picard said, deciding a little civility was called for after all. “But with so little time remaining, you can understand my urgency.”
Norinda smiled, but did not use whatever power she had to make a connection, mind to mind. “I do understand. And you will have your meeting.” She glanced at Joseph as she continued to address Picard. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me and my followers in convincing Kirk to let Joseph visit today. And I will show my appreciation in return.” Then she motioned to the guards. “Be patient, Jean-Luc. Not much longer.”
Norinda and Nran left through one personnel door. The three Remans directed Picard and Joseph to another. Picard was intrigued to see that the guards had to duck their heads to step through the door. This facility had not been built with Remans in mind, but for Romulans.
The corridors here were also much different from the first ones Picard had encountered when he and La Forge had escaped with the help of Norinda and her mysterious mercenary—the apparently self-propelled suit of combat armor.
Picard still hadn’t reconciled those events with Norinda’s protestations of love and peace. The armored unit, or hollow robot as Picard was coming to consider it, had killed the Reman doctor—hardly the act of a follower of the Jolara. But if it had been a robot, little more than a tool, then perhaps Norinda hadn’t understood the nature of its programming.
Or maybe Norinda is simply lying about everything, Picard thought, then sighed, dismissing his paranoia with a wry smile.
“What’s so funny, Uncle Jean-Luc?”
Picard gazed down at the holographic child, remembered a phrase from his own childhood. “When you’re older.”
Joseph grinned maliciously. “Awww, geee, you always say that!” Then he began to skip along the corridor to join the guards and pester them with childish questions.
Picard passed door after door, none of them hidden as they had been on the nightside, many of them marked in Romulan script, which Picard regretted he did not have the skills to read properly.
He did recognize some engineering terms, though, and one door was clearly marked for orbital operations—likely the flight control room. But other doors seemed to be identified simply by numbers and a single icon, as if in code.
Then the Remans stopped before a specific door, and one of them operated a control pad on the wall beside it.
The door opened, and it was clear from their body language to Picard that the Remans wanted him and Joseph to step inside. The guards would not be following.
Picard had no choice but to trust Norinda, so he took Joseph’s hand and together they stepped inside where—
—Beverly Crusher ran into his arms and held him as closely as Kirk had held Joseph.
Picard was so startled, and suddenly so fearful that this was another of Norinda’s manifestations that he actually pulled away.
But when he saw Crusher’s expression of hurt surprise, he immediately regretted it, knew it was her.
“Jean-Luc, what’s wrong?”
Honesty was always best, no matter how strange, so Picard told her the truth. “There is an alien here who is a shapeshifter, and she once appeared to me as you.”
Crusher narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips. “Details, Jean-Luc.”
“It was for just a few seconds,” he said reassuringly.
“If ye don’t mind, I’ll just settle for shakin’ your hand, Captain Picard.”
Picard turned to see Mister Scott, hale and hearty. He shook the engineer’s hand with enthusiasm.
“This is a most unexpected and welcome surprise,” Picard said with great relief. “The last any of us had heard, you were both in need of extensive surgical treatment.”
“The Remans excel at repairing traumatic injury,” Crusher said. She ran a finger along her forehead and under her right eye. “I’ve seen the before and after imagery on my skull fracture, broken nose, and cheekbone. But look, not a scar.”
Scott tapped his jaw. “Same for me. Quick treatment. But no pretty nurses.”
Picard looked around the room they were in, and was surprised by how pleasant it was. In addition to a bookcase full of Romulan scrollbooks, through which Joseph now pawed, there were plants, several groupings of what looked to be comfortable furniture, and woven wall hangings, which Picard recognized as stunning examples of a Romulan craft style about a thousand years old. These were the furnishings he would expect in a senator’s country home on Romulus, not in an Assessor facility on Remus.
“When did you arrive?” he asked.
“This morning,” Crusher said.
“Aye, there were a crowd of others,” Scott added. “The Jolan people. But if you’ll pardon me interrupting, is there any word on the captain and the others?”
“Jim’s fine. We just left him back on the Calypso with La Forge.”
Scott grimaced. “Och, th’ poor lad’ll have his work cut out for him.”
“Actually, the ship’s in better shape than we thought. It’s a long story, but there’re no surprises up there.”
Crusher was in tune with him. “But surprises down here?”
“Many,” Picard said. “Each with an equally long story.”
“Which you will tell us another time, no doubt,” she said.
“No doubt at all.” Picard looked past her and Scott to see Joseph intently reading a scrollbook. “Joseph? You’re being rude not saying hello to your Uncle Scott and Doctor Crusher.”
“Sorrr-eee,” Joseph said, but he made no move to stop reading.
“Why is he down here?” Crusher asked.
“Aye, I thought the captain was dead set against th’ lad setting foot on Remus.”
Picard knew he couldn’t risk saying anything, or even hinting what the real story was. “It’s a favor to me. I’ll explain later.”
“Any idea when that might be?” Scott asked. “Have they said anything about how long they might be keeping us here?”
“I…would hope we’ll be back on the Calypso within the day.”
“That’s good to know,” Scott said.
“But why the delay?” Crusher asked.
“Norinda—she’s the woman, actually, she’s the shapeshifting alien who founded the Jolan Movement—she’s arranging a meeting for me. Then we’ll go.”
Scott scratched the back of his head. “Norinda…I know that name…but a shapechanger?”
Before Picard could remind Scott where he had first encountered Norinda, the door swung open, and a Romulan entered carrying a small silver case.
“Farr Jolan,” he said. “I am Zol. I am here to see the child.”
As if they had discussed what to do beforehand, the three adults turned to form a wall, shoulder to shoulder, blocking Zol from Joseph.
“For what reason?” Picard asked.
Zol placed his silver case on a table and opened it, as if there were nothing Picard or the others could say or do to keep him from Joseph. “I am here at the request of the Jolara.”