Guinan’s bar on Mars was busy with customers. That in itself wasn’t unusual, what was unusual was the makeup of the crowd these days. Just a month ago, most of her customers would be Starfleet officers, men and women of various species in red, yellow, or blue uniforms. Nowadays, Imperial officers made up most of her clientele, Humans every last one of them, the regular military in olive-grey uniforms, Imperial Stormtroopers in black uniforms, and the ISB in white uniforms. Appearances aside, they also had different tastes compared to her past clientele, Guinan’s Orion contracts warning her that the Coruscanti Humans preferred real alcohol over synthehol.
Not that she could have served them anything else, anyway. Starfleet had stripped the replicator feedstocks even before the Battle of Mars, and blown the refineries afterwards. If not for Imperial logistics willing to pick up the slack, Guinan couldn’t have served them much or for long. As it was, they’d supplied her with various liquors, in exchange for reduced prices for Imperial officers and enlisted frequenting her bar.
A fair exchange, all things considered, and Guinan wasn’t one to judge anyway. That wasn’t her role. It never had been. Her role was to listen, to watch and testify to the unfolding of Humanity’s history, whether its Terran or Coruscanti branches. Granted, she’d only known the latter existed for barely a month, but it changed nothing.
She would listen, she would watch, and she would bear testimony.
No more and no less.
It simply wasn’t her place to shape their history for them.
“Here’s five beers for table fifteen.” Guinan said, gesturing for one of the waiters, who took the tray and carried it to where five officers – all pilots, from the sound of things – were trading stories between each other over beer and cards.
“…so I got on top of the bastard, and unloaded a pair of torpedoes on his ass.” One pilot was boasting with exaggerated hand gestures. “Bam! Just like that! Nine stars on my cockpit window, and ace status on my first battle to boot.”
“Nine stars on your first combat mission, huh?” another pilot said. “Not bad, not bad at all, even by Clone Wars standards. And say what you will about their capitals, the Feddies have sturdy attack craft, well-shielded and well-armed, if a bit slow. Good pilots too…taking nine of them down is worth more drinks than taking down nine clankers.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Likewise!”
A round of cheers went up from the table as the pilots took their beer mugs and toasted each other before downing their drinks. Guinan made a small smile at such a nostalgic sight, having witnessed such things centuries ago, long before the rise of the Federation, when Earth was still divided into small warring countries.
Then she blinked, and turned to the upper level, where a bald man was staring out over the Martian landscape from a private booth. He was in civilian clothing, unsurprising considering how…unwise, it was, these days to go around in a Starfleet uniform, and not because the Empire was arresting its members, those of them left stranded in the system after the Battle of Mars.
No, it was the civilians who Starfleet was wary of. They felt…betrayed, and abandoned, after Starfleet had retreated from the Sol System after the Battle of Mars, and even tried to destroy everything of value while leaving. And after the Empire had exposed all of the Federation’s – United Earth’s – secrets for the galaxy to see, the civilians also felt deceived and used.
Starfleet had long been the most visible institution of the Federation, its most prestigious branch.
Now, it was the most hated. The Imperials had already impounded what ships remained, and while they allowed crewmen to come and go during the day so long as they respected curfew, which alone kept mass lynching from taking place during the riots after Admiral Targaryen’s public address. Even then, the mobs might have stormed the grounded Starfleet ships, if not – ironically – for the Imperial Stormtroopers guarding them.
Eventually, the mobs had relented, the people’s anger cooling before they returned home, but it was still there. After a number of officers were beaten, raped, and even murdered after going around in uniform, Starfleet had gotten the hint and its members took care to avoid being recognized as such in public.
It was…disturbing, no matter how unsurprising and even natural a reaction it was to all the manipulation and deception that both Starfleet Security and Section 31 had had to do to keep the Federation safe. A sign that despite their claims to the contrary, Humanity – or at least the Terrans, as from what she knew the Coruscanti had never claimed as such – had never truly overcome its nature, and only suppressed it.
And Guinan didn’t know how to feel about that.
She knew, though, that a longtime friend of hers would be very broken up over it.
“Kendra,” Guinan said, turning to one of her assistants. “Take over for me. I need to attend to an old-time regular of mine.”
“Will do.” The junior bartender said, already fixing up cocktails for a pair of Imperial officers.
Meanwhile, Guinan was slipping out from behind the bar, through the crowds, and up a nearby staircase to the upper level, making her way to where Picard was sitting with a half-empty bottle of red wine. “Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.
Picard started at Guinan’s words, and then quickly relaxed and smiled. “Oh, no.” he said. “It’s perfectly alright. Please, sit. Help yourself.”
Guinan sat down opposite, patiently waiting for Picard to open up on his own. The old man was silent for a long time, though, staring out wistfully over the Martian landscape. As it was, it took about fifteen minutes before he finally spoke up.
“Did you know?” Picard began. “Mars was terraformed during the 22nd Century. It was a dream come true, one that went back centuries, to the 19th Century if not even earlier. Men and women could finally walk out onto the rust-red sands, and breathe deep of the air of another world.”
“I’m aware.” Guinan said. “Even though Humanity had colonies on other Earth-like worlds out there, to have another habitable world within the system of your own birth was something else entirely.”
“Yes.” Picard agreed with a nod. “But…while Humans could walk around without external air sources, the air remained thin. So thin you’d tire within minutes, and you’d blackout if you tried to exert yourself. Cold too…did you know Mars’ temperature barely averages one degree above the freezing point of water?”
“…Jean-Luc,” Guinan began. “What’s the matter?”
“…I was just thinking,” Picard said after a moment. “That Mars’ terraforming…it’s such an apt metaphor for everything we’ve believed about ourselves. For so long now, we’ve believed that we’ve overcome the flaws and frailties of the Human condition, and maturing as a species, were ready to move out into space. Only…we haven’t. Not really…it’s just a comforting lie, one built on countless corpses and inhumanities…we’ve become the next Soviet Union…if not the next Third Reich…”
“Jean-Luc…have you been talking to Q?”
Picard glanced at Guinan, and gave a sad smile. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.
Guinan didn’t answer, and just gave a knowing smile. Picard looked back out over the Martian sands, before sitting back and thinking to his meeting with the transcendent being days ago.
“Why?” Picard asked. “Why go this far?”
“Because you needed to open your eyes.” Q answered. “You could never understand how long I’ve watched your species. Believe it or not, Picard, your species truly has the potential to become like us. Not just the Continuum, but other transcendental races like the Metrons, the Organians, the Medusans, or even the Celestials of the Coruscantis’ past. But not like this. Not like this…would you entrust phenomenal cosmic power to your species, knowing what you now know about your civilization?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Picard answered immediately.
“For once we agree.” Q said. “But like I said, I’ve watched your species for a very long time. And I’ve long since learned that when Humans get comfortable, or find themselves facing something they need but don’t want to see much less confront…they’d rather clap hands over their ears, close their eyes, and go ‘la, la, la, I can’t hear you’. When that time comes, the only way to get them to see, to understand, to actually face and overcome what’s staring at them in the face…it’s to remove all other choices beyond just that.”
“…yes.” Picard said with a sigh after a long moment. “I suppose I can’t argue with you there. Not after everything I’ve just seen, and putting my own past actions and beliefs in their new context.”
Q gave a sad smile. “You were never stupid, Picard.” He said. “Just so very Human.”
Picard gave Q a hard look, before licking his lips to moisten them. “Then let me act so very Human once more.” He said. “Are you one to judge?”
Q smiled wider. “Good question…” he said. “…but a complete answer would also answer another question beside that. So, ask.”
“Is the Empire really any better?” Picard asked. “They’re an expansionist, militaristic power, and from what we know of their history, has barely progressed socially in over twenty thousand years. In fact, they might even have regressed recently, with their Republic abandoning its democratic ideals to embrace autocracy by becoming the Empire after the Clone Wars.”
Q beamed. “Now, you’re asking all the questions.” He said. “No and yes. No, the Empire isn’t much better, but yet, it…or rather, your Coruscanti cousins, are better. In one way: they don’t deny their nature, or rather its darker part. By now, you’ve seen it yourself, haven’t you? They’re not all that different from you. But while you suppress the darker side of your being, your true selves, they don’t. It’s a part of them. It’s a part of all of you.”
Q paused and tilted his head. “It was, and still is, the same with us.” He said. “Little progress, you said, in over twenty thousand years? Picard, what is twenty thousand years in the grand scheme of the cosmos? For fourteen billion years it existed before you, and it might just exist for eternity after you. Even we took billions of years by your reckoning to even get at the start of where we are now. And even now, we struggle with who we once were, and still are. Or have you forgotten Q? Or Q?”
“…you said the trial never ends.” Picard said with sudden realization. “It’s not just for Humanity, is it? It’s the same for you too.”
Q spread his hands. “That’s the nature of life, Picard.” He said. “A constant struggle, against forces beyond its control from without, beyond, and most importantly, from within. And look, it wasn’t all bad.”
“What do you mean?”
Q clicked his tongue. “Come now, Picard.” He said. “Don’t be disappointing. Asking isn’t the beginning of learning. Before you can even ask a question, you need something else. And you know it. You’re a scientist, after all.”
“…I don’t know.”
Q nodded. “You don’t know.” He said. “Once you admit that, you can begin to learn. The Coruscanti have opened your eyes. Not just you Terrans, but also every other species the upstart Federation had also dragged into the mud. Now, you can truly begin anew.”
And beaming reassuringly at Picard, he was gone.
“And…do you believe him?” Guinan asked in disbelief, at the notion that Q could even hold an honest conversation with someone who wasn’t a transcendent themselves.
“In light of everything that’s happened, yes.” Picard said with a sigh. “But, don’t misunderstand. I don’t believe our ideals were wrong. They weren’t. Only the methods our…leaders, used were wrong. And while we’re back to step one, well, that only means we’ll have to try again, and do better this time.”
Despite herself, Guinan smiled. “Some would say you shouldn’t try, but simply do or don’t.” she remarked.
Picard smiled back. “Then I’ll say,” he responded. “Such black and white reasonings would be why the Federation failed in the first place. In particular, the notion of…utopia, at any cost.”
Guinan chuckled. “Utopia?” she echoed. “It almost sounds like you think the world where your ideals can truly bloom is just a dream.”
“It is.” Picard admitted. “At least for now…like I said, we’re back to step one. And I believe before everything else, we need to take a good long look at everything we know and has been revealed about our past, and give it all an equally good and long think. Only then can we learn the lessons we need to learn, and only with those lessons can we truly begin to move forward.”
Guinan sighed and smiled sadly. “It’s not going to be easy.” She warned. “Especially for people like you, who used to be such a…visible, figure of authority in the Federation, or at least Starfleet.”
“I never expected it to be.” Picard replied. “And it shouldn’t be. Otherwise, we wouldn’t value what we’d achieve in the end.”
Guinan smiled wider. “Well,” she said. “I guess that’s not a bad way to cope with your world getting turned upside down in the space of barely a month.”
Then she paused, and looked back down at the bar. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” She said. “But if you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”
Picard nodded, and then getting up, Guinan left with a reassuring squeeze of Picard’s shoulder. Alone again, Picard took his wineglass, and took a sip while looking out over the Martian landscape.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Reality flickered as a quintet of Klingon Birds-of-Prey dropped out of warp within the Sol System. They were immediately tracked by numerous Imperial patrols, followed by demands for identification. The Klingons responded promptly, the Imperial Fleet responding by sending a trio of cruisers to escort them closer into the system.
On the lead Klingon ship, Captain Orath Alvezh silently regarded the Vindicators leading them to where the Imperial Command Fleet was waiting. “Interesting.” A voice said, and the captain looked up in surprise at Dahar Master Akiz Mvonnek standing at his shoulder. And he didn’t even hear the other Klingon approach.
How terrifying of him, not that Orath would admit it.
“The Imperial ships?” he asked instead.
“Yes.” Akiz said. “You can learn a lot about your enemy by looking at the way they hold themselves…or even build their ships. Terrans build fast and light ships, with lots of weapons to hit hard in many different ways. But their weapons aren’t weapons, not really. Phasers are just overpowered tools, while their photon torpedoes are probes just loaded with an antimatter warhead. In short, they’re men of science playing at war.”
“Not all of them.” Orath demurred. “The Dominion War proved that much.”
“And yet,” Akiz countered in his turn. “The Coruscanti trample the Terrans underfoot, do they not?”
“…yes.” Orath admitted after a moment. “But the Coruscanti are…different. Not just from the Terrans, or the Vulcans, or indeed, any other Federation race. Different from us or the Romulans, or even the Dominion.”
Akiz chuckled. “Indeed,” he said, crossing his arms and gesturing at the Imperial cruisers. “I’m told their ships can be slow and ungainly, at least when traveling at sub-light. But their shields and armor are incredible for ships of their size, and they do have proper weapons.”
“They do.” Orath said with a nod. “Plasma cannons of some kind, very powerful, enough to gut most ships, whether ours or the Terrans with shields down. Ion cannons too, to disable ships for boarding.”
Orath paused, and grinned. “I hear their soldiers fight more like the Andorians than either Terrans or Vulcans.” He said. “A shame I never had the opportunity to face Coruscanti trying to board my ship. It sounds like it would have made a most interesting encounter.”
Akiz laughed uproariously at that, Orath chuckling in the captain’s chair. “They’re not warriors, though.” Akiz eventually said. “Not from what I’ve seen and heard of them. They’re soldiers. Different from us…almost like our mirror images…not that it changes things. They are worthy opponents…for the future. Now, though? They will make for worthy allies…proper allies, with which to spill blood and wash away the stains of dishonor left by the Terrans.”
“I do not think the Coruscanti will disappoint.” Orath said, and pressing a button, brought up long-distance scans and with them, an image of Earth’s Moon. “This…Targaryen, is a dangerous woman.”
Akiz smiled. “A woman after our own hearts, then.” He said, and shared another laugh with the captain.
It wasn’t long after that they approached the Imperial Command Fleet, gathered in orbit over Iapetus, a moon of Saturn, the second gas giant and sixth planet in the Sol System. And at its heart were the colossal Star Destroyers, from the kilometer-long Venators to the even bigger Imperials.
“Impressive.” Akiz said approvingly. “The Romulans build big too, but their ships mass less than they appear. The Coruscanti have the mass to match their ships’ size.”
“Those ships have plenty of empty space as well.” Orath pointed out. “They carry a lot of smaller craft, from small one-man fighters and bombers, to small troop transports.”
“It matters not.” Akiz scoffed. “The Coruscanti at least use what spaces their battleships – or even their cruisers – have well, to carry more means with which to bring the fight to their enemy. All the empty space a Romulan warbird has is just that: empty space. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, though.”
“Romulans…” Orath sneered. “…treacherous and craven knaves who skulk about with poison and hidden daggers, instead of fighting and killing their foes with honor.”
“…and yet even they have more honor than the Terrans’ hidden masters.” Akiz darkly said. “Contact the Imperial flagship, and ask for permission to board. Contact the rest of our ships as well. It’s time we meet this…Admiral Targaryen.”
