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Scene 1

            “I don’t know what it is,” Broots said. “But it’s incredible.”

            Miss Parker seized him by the collar. “Find out,” she said between her teeth. She gave the strange machinery a kick and stalked over to where Sydney was working. “What do you have on those star charts?”

            The gentle-faced psychiatrist leaned back in his chair. “Nothing. Stars. I can’t figure out what Jarod is trying to tell us. I wondered if he had discovered astrology, but he doesn’t know his birth date. Why has he got a telescope pointed at the star they call 40 Eridani A? His need for astrophysics has come to an end with his exposure of the professor who was sexually abusing his female students. Usually by now he would have put that area of study behind him and gone on to something else, but instead he continues staring at stars and building mysterious machines.”

            “And sending us to Lunatic Central,” Miss Parker grumbled.

            “Hey, that science fiction convention was great!” Broots called. “Did you see the guy dressed as a Breen? The detail on that suit was…” His voice died away as he caught Miss Parker’s glare. “Science fiction’s good for the imagination, you know,” he mumbled.

            “Oh? And who do you imagine yourself as? The Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

            “No, that’s Mr. Raines,” he muttered.

            Caught off guard, Miss Parker actually laughed, startling them all. Broots grinned his somewhat cautious grin and ran his hand over his mostly bald head. No, when he put his imagination to science fiction, he was Captain P—

            “Broots!”

            He jumped and applied himself to the mysterious machine.

            Looking at the red book left behind at the university, Sydney chuckled.

            “What?” Miss Parker demanded, leaning her svelte self against his desk and lighting a cigarette.

            “Jarod Hawking. It’s always interesting to see what name he chooses for himself. You would think sometimes people would notice how obvious they are, but they don’t. Or else he has a good explanation. What did that professor say?” He looked through notes. “He said, ‘Jarod said he wasn’t related to Stephen Hawking, but sharing a name was an inspiration. It must have worked, because he was the most brilliant astrophysicist I have ever worked with.’”

            Miss Parker made a face, almost a shudder. “Now there’s a man who reminds me of Mr. Raines.”

            “Stephen Hawking?” Broots exclaimed, outraged. “Stephen Hawking is brilliant, Miss Parker! He’s not evil incarnate. You know how his theory of everything—”

            “The only theory I want is yours on that machine!”

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Scene 2

            Commander Jarod Westmore looked like a Vulcan, Deanna Troi decided. Tall, slender, and dark, he looked as if he hid as much strength in his elegant body as a Vulcan, and he even had the haircut and oddly calm demeanor. Perhaps he had studied on Vulcan. She had often noticed that some people who spent a considerable time on Vulcan retained an unearthly sort of calm. But his strong-boned, rectangular face was far too alive for a Vulcan. When he smiled his eyes lighted with interest and mischief; when he did not smile he had an air of being lost in sadness and memory; and occasionally she caught a glimpse of strange darkness behind his eyes. And he did not feel like a Vulcan. Even to as strong an empath as herself, Vulcans were hard to read. The emotions were there, but they truly were contained under a layer of thick ice, difficult to penetrate. This man, this Commander Westmore, was like no one she had ever felt before. She had never met someone with so much complexity writhing so closely beneath the surface. She had to put up several shields between herself and him before she could concentrate on what he was actually saying.

            He had brought up several pictures on the viewscreen in the briefing room, all children. A Human, a Vulcan, a Trill, a Klingon, a Talaxian…

            “These children have all disappeared from their respective homeworlds over the last year. Normally they would each be a case for their local authorities. Children often disappear for a variety of reasons and are usually found by their parents or their local police in short order. But these children are different. Quite by accident I have discovered an unusual number of similarities between their cases. Each of these children has an abnormally high intelligence. Most were born to parents in professions that require a great deal of talent. All live on Federation worlds, and their parents occupy some minor sort of Federation position. Each child displays an unusual aptitude in one way or another which their teachers have been at a loss to develop. Possibly most significantly telling is that their parents report that each of them was seen by a Betazoid counselor within a year before their kidnapping.”

            Unconsciously everyone looked at Deanna. “Do you mean,” she said, “that someone has been telepathically assessing their talents and kidnapping them for a specific purpose?”

            “That is exactly what I mean, Lieutenant-Commander Troi.” His deep voice was even, but she caught a startling rage beneath it. “As no doubt you know, children have incredible potential, particularly those we might term prodigies or savants, and they are incredibly malleable. Remove a number of extraordinary children from their home situation, where they might have a normal development, and place them in an intensive situation where you can force them to use their talents far beyond the range that normal life usually allows, and you have an unparalleled source of intellect, ideas, solutions…power.”

            Beverly Crusher leaned forward. “But surely—in order to develop a child’s mind so intensively, you would have to neglect the rest of his development. Every waking moment would have to be spent in training. What would that do to a child’s emotional, social, and spiritual development?”

            Their guest’s eyes had narrowed into dark lines, making his long face look alarmingly ominous. “It would be stunted. In some it would wither away. The children’s well-being is not these people’s object. Power is their object. The children are seen as commodities, Dr. Crusher. They are machines to be used. They are owned. They have only one purpose: to serve the—their captors.”

            The doctor shuddered. The commander’s eyes on her suddenly went soft, understanding. “You are thinking of your own extraordinary son, Doctor Crusher, what it might be like if he had been taken from you and subjected to this life. Instead he has known love. He has known his mother. This is a blessing greater than any other.”

            She blinked at him, and Deanna realized that this strange man had nearly brought Beverly to tears.

            Riker broke in. “Commander, with your credentials we have no trouble believing everything you’ve told us. But what does this have to do with the Enterprise? Shouldn’t you be tracking leads on one of these children’s homeworlds?”

            Jarod Westmore turned the full force of his dark-rimmed eyes on him. “My task, Commander Riker, is not to find out what has been done but to project what will be done. I have a particular talent, and that is to inhabit the mind of a person I am tracking, find out how he thinks and feels and what he will do. We have learned that this shadow organization has planted people on starships to evaluate the children aboard them. The crewmembers aboard Federation starships have proven themselves to be intelligent, capable, talented people and are likely to have intelligent children. If this organization can identify one prodigy or savant out of ten starships, they will consider it well worth the time spent.”

            “Our children?” Dr. Crusher gasped. “There are people aboard this ship evaluating our children to kidnap them?”

            “It is likely to be only one person, most likely someone working as a teacher, childcare provider, counselor, or doctor, someone in frequent contact with the children on this vessel. My job is to blend in with the crew. I am here as a guest astrophysicist to study the star cluster your ship is on its way to investigate. I am also known as a foremost children’s teacher in primary astrophysics, and Captain Picard will give me opportunities to speak in classes and conduct introductions into the job of an astrophysicist aboard a starship.”

            “Can you really do that?” Riker asked.

            “Yes, sir. I have taught astrophysics at university on my world and have also been a children’s school teacher. I will become my role completely. While I am interacting with the children, I will interact with those around them. I know the kind of person I am tracking. When I interact with him or her, I will know it. Then I will set a trap that will allow the person to betray himself. Once we have one member of the organization, we will be able to track backward to the source of the whole thing.”

            “A trap?” Lieutenant Worf growled.

            Deanna watched the man’s whole stance change as he turned toward the security chief. His body opened, seemed to become larger and taller as his hands went to his hips. He was becoming a Klingon. “Yes, Lieutenant Worf. I trust I may have your assistance, as Captain Picard permits?”

            “Of course,” Worf answered.

            choquvmoH.”

            Worf stared. Even in these more enlightened times, there weren’t many Humans who took the time to learn Klingon.

            Captain Picard rose. “Thank you, Commander Westmore. Ladies and gentlemen, I  cannot stress enough the top-secrecy of this operation. The commander’s mission is so secret that I received no word of it myself until he was actually here. Starfleet Security believes this shadow organization may be working within Starfleet itself, illegally but sanctioned by certain Starfleet officials.” A murmur arose. He quelled it with a movement of his hand. “This means that any and all lines of communication may be monitored. Thanks to the commander, we have a state-of-the-art jamming device running during this conversation. It must be present for any conversation on this subject, and no such conversations will take place without my permission or Commander Westmore’s. This operation regards our most precious cargo on this ship, our futures as our respective races, and our future as a Federation the galaxy can trust. Remember that. You are all dismissed.”

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Scene 3

            “Counselor Troi, come into my ready room.”

            Deanna followed the captain in and took her accustomed seat against the wall. Picard sat next to her. They had left Commander Westmore in conversation with Data about adjustments to the ship’s sensors for the new star system they were to study. It would be hard to say who seemed the more fascinated with the other.

            “First impressions, Counselor?” Picard asked quietly.

            Deanna let out an explosive breath. “I don’t even know where to begin, Captain.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well—let’s begin with you. How do you see this Jarod Westmore?”

            Picard said slowly, “I can see that he is one of the most intelligent beings I have ever encountered, and that takes into account a number of Vulcans. I see that he instantly observes and comprehends everything around him in a way that would rival even Data’s favorite Sherlock Holmes. He has a calm demeanor, but it is easy to see that he is a man of great depths.”

            “That is exactly correct, Captain. How can I describe it to you? Have you ever known a person well and then discovered he felt deeply about something you had never even considered?”

            Picard smiled. “Yes.”

            “We often discover this in certain areas about our friends, like stumbling into a hole in what we thought was a flat and explored landscape. Jarod Westmore’s whole character is like that. Everything about him is deep, unexplored, unexpected—and violent.”

            Violent, Deanna?”

            “Don’t misunderstand me, Captain. I mean his feelings are violent. All of them—they affect him violently, intensely. They rage and surge inside him. Captain, I feel from him some of the deepest pain I have ever felt from anyone. I feel anger, helplessness, confusion, blankness, searching, longing, loss, hatred, far too many tears. He is feeling this constantly, sir, not as a dull hum in the background as many of us do but as the major thread of his life. He is such a mass of confusion even I can’t sort out all the emotions. There are people he hates with every fiber of his being. There are people he loves as much as he hates, people he trusts involuntarily even while he doesn’t trust them. There are people he loves desperately and clings to psychologically even as he searches for them. He feels nothing half-way—every emotion is intense and full. And yet, Captain, he is a man of peace. His passion is justice, and he wants nothing more than to live at peace. He can find no lasting peace, but he does find temporary relief in bringing peace and justice to others. He—” She broke into a soft laugh, feeling inside her what she had felt when he first looked at Data. “He loves life, Captain. He is incessantly fascinated by all the new experiences it brings him. If I didn’t know better, I would say he is like a child experiencing the world for the first time. Even all his pain cannot dampen his child-like joy at learning and experiencing something new. If I am correct, he will love this new star system as if it were his only object in being here.”

            They were both silent a moment. Picard had not expected such a thorough description of the man’s character. “And in essence, Counselor?”

            “In essence, Captain, you can trust him. If I needed to, I would place my life in his hands, step back, close my eyes, and let him do what he needed to do. He has a stronger drive for justice and goodness than anyone I have known. He is…he is not unlike James T. Kirk in that, Captain.”

            Picard smiled again. “And as history tells us, that is what drove Kirk as well. Thank you, Counselor. As always, your insights are valuable.”

            “Thank you, sir.” She rose to go, then stopped. “Captain, there is something else. There is something he is not telling us. I don’t know whether it has anything to do with this mission or whether it is a personal matter of no importance to the mission. But he is definitely withholding something.”

            “And yet I can trust him.”

            “And yet you can trust him.” 










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