From: ses52823@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (Marius)
Subject: World of Two Moons (Parts I, II, III) repost
Summary: Kickass Star Trek: TNG -- ElfQuest crossover
Organization: University of Illinois at Urbana
Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1992 08:48:12 GMT
Keywords: modified by Marius (ses52823@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu)



"World of Two Moons"
    by Matthew Melmon

    A Star Trek:  The Next Generation -- ElfQuest Crossover Story

    All standard disclaimers apply.

    Do not copy or transfer this material without the included header;
    Let's give credit where credit is due.

    Reposted by Marius (ses52823@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu)


    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


    World of Two Moons
    Part One

    Wesley awakened with a start.  The dream.  It had happened again.  The
    strange woman with unbelievably long hair.  And fins!  But beautiful,
    even so.  A mermaid. Or a siren.  The sheets were uncomfortable.  He
    pushed them away and stood up on the bed.  His skin was very pale.

    Geeks always have pale skin, he thought.  The moonlight only made him
    seem even more pale.  But the woman in his dream.  Now, she was pale.

    Wesley.  He didn't like that name.  It wasn't a bad name, but it was very
    soft.  Crusher.  Another strange name.  Especially when juxtaposed with
    Wesley.  Wesley Crusher.  A soft, brutal man?  Hardly.  He was a geek.

    But not for long.

    Wesley smiled in the darkness.  A smile no one could see.  But even if
    they could, they wouldn't understand.  Now?  Should he do it now?  His
    breath started to come with more difficulty.  God, the trouble he would
    be in.  But so the fuck what?  Now it was.  Wesley got dressed.

    Nobody had stopped him on his way to the transporter chamber.  The
    computer, of course, knew he was there.  The computer was supposed to
    stop people from doing suspicious things.  But the computer wasn't
    about to stop Wesley.

    He had seen to that.

    The tingle of re-materialization passed.  He had always liked that feel.
    Dull red emergency lights came on.  The Klingon Bird of Prey was only
    set up with its emergency lights.

    Or so the Federation officials responsible for it thought.  

    Wesley stepped off the antique ship's transporter platform.  A very
    famous little craft, this.  Captain Kirk - James T. - had used it to save 
    Earth.  He did that so frequently.  Nobody ever accused Kirk of being a
    geek.  Now, the little thing was a tourist attraction here in San Francisco.
    Tourist attraction and geek experiment.  Wesley had convinced the
    Academy to let him modify some of the onboard systems.  Like the
    warp drive.  The shields.  The computers.  

    And the cloaking device.

    They didn't know about that one.  He'd had enough contact with the
    Romulans to make some guesses about their new cloaking technology.
    Working with the Klingon model, he'd made a few alterations.  It might
    almost replicate the Romulan level of undetectability.  

    Of course, it might also blow up in his face.

    What the fuck?  You only live once.  And he was tired of being a geek.
    Wesley sat in the captain's chair.  Even in this antique, it felt so much
    more authoritarian than the Enterprise.  None of that triad crap on a
    Klingon warship.  One ship, one captain.  And now, that captain was him.

    "Computers," said Wesley.

    There was a hum.  The consoles came to life.

    "Awaiting instruction," replied the generic female voice.

    "Initiate launch sequencing."

    The Bird of Prey - Jamie, he called it - was kept inside.  There was a
    huge pseudo-glass dome covering the display hall.  That dome wouldn't
    be there much longer.  He was going to cause a lot of damage.  It made
    his blood race.  

    "Launch sequence initialized and waiting further instruction."

    Wesley sucked his lower lip into his mouth for a moment.  The
    exhibition hall computers would have detected the power-up.  But they
    were covering his ass.  Nothing would have been reported.  Yet.  But
    crashing through that ceiling was another matter.  Structural integrity
    would not be threatened.  The exhibition hall's computers would still
    cover for him.  But when the Bird of Prey crashed into the San Francisco
    night - that would be a different story.  And there were the orbiting
    destroyers - the Dahlia and the Kareninna.  They would notice.

    "Launch," said Wesley.

    The ship lurched.  Jamie was old, but she could perform.  Could probably
    out-maneuver anything in the fleet.  There was a thud.  A brief
    shudder.  Then a cascade of falling shards.  He was in the night sky.

    Blasting away with too much thrust would throw down a rain of deadly
    radiation.  He didn't want to do that.  Better to take it up into low orbit
    nice and slow.  That would give the cruisers floating around plenty of
    time to lay in an intercept.  But that shouldn't matter.  Either his
    pseudo-Romulan cloak would work, or it would blow the little Bird to so
    much metalic dust.

    ___________

    In standard Earth orbit, the destroyer Dahlia glided lazily above the
    planet.  The duty officer had taken reports from San Francisco with
    some skepticism.  Why would anybody try to steal an antique Klingon
    warship?  And how could they be foolish enough to think they'd get
    away with it?  But scanners quickly confirmed the reports.

    "Captain, I think you'd better come to the bridge... immediately."

    ____________

    Wesley saw the destroyer moving to intercept.  Technically, he was
    outgunned, outmaneuvered, outshielded, and generally overpowered.
    Furthermore, the Klingon cloaking techology was thoroughly understood
    by  the Federation.  The lazy intercept was understandable.  

    The Dahlia was hailing him.  He ignored them.  Very soon, he would be
    free of the upper atmosphere.  

    Even the Romulan technology would not help much in such an
    environment.  Too many ionized particles.  Even in high Earth orbit, the
    planet's magnetic field would betray him.  But only if they looked.  The
    Klingon technology shouldn't require that they look.  The Dahlia crew
    would be momentarily confused.  He was counting on that.

    The Dahlia was raising her shields.  Good.  That would use up time.  She
    was charging her tractor beam.  A ship of that size wouldn't be able to
    hold him.  Wesley knew that.  He knew the Dahlia very well, in fact.  But
    they didn't know that.  They didn't know about all the work he'd put
    into this little falcon.  

    Jamie.  

    He cleared the atmosphere and began to accelerate.  The tractor beam
    locked on.  He increased thrust.  The beam faltered.  That would
    surprise them.  They were charging their phasers.  

    "Cloak," he said.

    ___________

    On the bridge of the Dahlia, a moment of confusion.

    "We've lost them," said an ensign.

    "What do you mean, 'lost them?'  It's a Klingon cloaking device!  Find
    them!"

    The ensign tried furiously.  Nothing.  He turned slowly to the captain.

    "I'm sorry, Captain.  We are unable to compensate for the cloaking
    device.  It is not of Klingon manufacture..."

    ____________

    Wesley had cleared the gravity well.  Cleared most of the radiation belt.
    The Dahlia was bringing itself about.  It knew his general direction.
    They would find him sooner or later, so long as he remained in the soup
    of interplanetary space.  But he wasn't about to do that.

    "Warp..."

    ____________

    On the Dahlia bridge, the ensign looked up from his console.

    "Captain, the Klingon ship has entered warp space.  After-image analysis
    indicates a departure at... warp seven."

    "Impossible!"

    The bridge was quiet.

    "Captain, the Kareninna is hailing us."

    ____________

    Free from the Terran system, Wesley relaxed.  It was still a long way to
    where he was going - but only he knew where that was.  The cloak was
    working perfectly.  And Jamie was a small ship.  He knew the Enterprise
    could never track him.  And thus he knew the Federation was helpless.
    He was free.

    "Free to follow a dream," he said aloud.  "Only a dream."

    But no.  Not only.  There was a world of two moons.  He had found it.  

    How?  Impossible to say.  The dreams told him where to look.  And
    there it was.  So it wasn't only a dream.  He probably should have told
    someone...  No!  That's the geek thinking again.  He was going to do this
    by himself.  Fuck the Federation...  The Enterprise would come looking
    for him.  His mother.  And Picard.  He liked that.  Let them look.

    Let them look.

    ____________

    The admiral stared blankly at Picard for a moment.  Then continued.  

    "So you see, Picard...  We have a bit of a problem."

    The captain rested his fingers on his desk.  The admiral could not tell,
    but Picard was smiling to himself.  To think that Wesley was finally
    acting like a rash young man.  Finally.  Thank God it didn't happen on
    my ship, thought Picard.

    "You are certain, Admiral, that it was Wesley?"

    "It is the most logical explanation, Captain.  Wesley had several ongoing
    projects involving the Bird of Prey.  He was retrofitting several modern
    technologies...  Reusability experiments.  And there's the cloaking
    device.  I can count the number of people who can take apart and
    reassemble even the Klingon device.  But unless a Romulan agent has
    infiltrated the Academy..."  The admiral broke off.  His eyes widened.

    "Now, admiral!" interjected Picard, "I don't believe for a moment that
    Wesley is acting as a Romulan agent."

    "I hope not...  But you do think it was him?"

    "Yes."

    "And you'll find him?"

    "Yes."

    "How?"

    "I don't know yet.  But the place to start is where he started.  You can
    expect us in a day, admiral."

    ____________

    From Ten-Forward, Picard watched the Earth grow larger.  His affection
    for the world of his birth had never dimmed.  It never failed to wash
    him with emotion.  Riker was guiding the ship in.  Picard was thankful
    for the time to reflect.  

    He could feel Guinan move up behind him.  Picard tensed involuntarily.
    Guinan was a mystery, and while mystery fascinated him, he didn't
    always appreciate it so close to home.

    "It makes for a wonderful picture, doesn't it, Captain?"

    Picard could only nod.  He knew that if he spoke, his voice would betray
    his emotion.  He didn't want that.  Not now. 

    The planet stopped growing in size.  They had assumed standard orbit.
    Soon enough, the search would begin.  It was a daunting task.  Looking
    for a cloaked ship in the vastness of space.  And Wesley, he was now an
    unpredictable quantity.  The Wesley that Picard had known would
    never have been capable of such a feat.  And Picard was glad he no
    longer knew Wesley.  This was a mystery more to his liking. 

    "Commander Data to Ten Forward," he commanded.

    Picard had a plan.

    ____________

    Wesley dreamed.  He was underwater.  Looking up.  Two pale, white
    eyes stared down at him.  Moons.  This world had two moons.  He had
    seen them over and over again.

    Something moved between him and the pale white eyes.  Something
    slender, with billowing fins.  And hair.  Long, long black hair.  Almost a
    woman.  Her eyes were large and pale as well.  And they burned with
    fire.  A shark circled about them.  Wesley was afraid, but he knew it
    was a dream.  He also knew the woman was not afraid.  She floated
    lazily at the center of the shark's circle.  The monster darted in.  

    And was slammed away.  Something invisible.  Something irresistible.
    Batted it away like a small insect.  The shark trembled for a few
    moments.  Spasms of confusion.  Then began circling again.  Oblivious to
    it's own danger.  The shark knew no fear.  The strange woman knew no
    fear.  Only Wesley knew fear - but of which one?  The shark attacked.
    This time, an arc of pale red light connected it to the floating woman.
    The shark continued in it's path.  But it was dead.  Wesley could tell.  It
    glided past the woman.  It sank into the depths.  He was alone with her
    now.

    The woman smiled.  Who is she, Wesley thought?  The woman smiled.
    Who?

    "Winnowil," said a voice in his mind.

    Wesley woke with a start.

    ____________

    Part Two

    Beyond the massive transparent planes of glass, a crescent of blue Earth
    cut across the black void of space.  Guinan rotated a glass slowly in her
    hand, even as the planet spun about its own axis.  

    As she wiped the glass with a soft cloth, she mused about Wesley's
    actions.  Strange, they were.  But not entirely unexpected.  Sooner or
    later, it is always the way of youth to rebel agains the expectations of
    their seniors.  Wesley's reaction had been extreme, even as it was
    belated.

    And then, Guinan dropped the glass.  It shattered upon the counter as
    she put a hand to her forehead.

    Pain!

    Her breath came rapidly, when it came at all.  Through a haze of agony,
    she saw people coming towards her.  Members of the crew.  She
    collapsed against the bar.  Something was wrong.  Terribly wrong.  The
    captain must be warned.  She felt arms supporting her.  People were
    calling her name.  So many voices!  Impossible.  She knew it was
    impossible.  There were only a handful of people in Ten Forward, but
    she heard thousands of voices!  Or the same voice, a thousand times...
    And something like laughter.  

    Blackness and cold overcame her.  She fell into the shattered glass.

    ____________

    Shattered glass, everywhere.  From the massive dome that had blocked
    out the chill San Francisco air.  Picard, Data, and Counselor Troi, walked
    amidst the rubble.  They stopped where the Bird of Prey had been
    resting.  

    "Well Data," began the Captain, "What would Mr. Holmes do now?"

    Data looked about thoughtfully for a moment.

    "I do not think, Captain, that we shall find any relevant clues here.
    Though this may be the 'scene' of the crime, it is not its point of origin."

    "Crime," said Counselor Troi, "is perhaps too strong a word."

    Data looked at her.

    "Theft is a crime, Counselor."

    Picard cleared his throat.

    "Yes.  Well, where should we begin?"

    "We have begun, Captain..."

    "Yes, but where shall we really begin?"

    "I do not understand, Captain..."

    "What next, Data?"

    "Yes.  To understand the crime, we must understand the criminal.  That
    is why I had asked for Counselor Troi's presence.  We must know what
    Wesley was thinking, before we can hope to know where he has gone.
    To track a small, manueverable ship - one that is as well cloaked as a
    Romulan war  vessel - is simply not within the realm of practicality."

    ____________

    Hovering beneath that pane of ocean where light becomes dark,
    Winnowil smiled.  These strange new beings pleased her.  The young,
    restless one pleased her most.  For a moment, she was sad - she had
    known someone like that once.  

    Long ago.

    Winnowil looked towards the moons that she could not see.  He was still
    there.  In the Palace.  Above and beyond the world.  But held by it.
    Trapped.  Wanting to leave, but not wanting to leave behind.

    Rayek.

    He had found the strange new worlds first.  In his magical quest for the
    other vessels of the High Ones.  Winnowil had only followed, but she
    paid these aliens more mind than Rayek, for whom only the High Ones
    were of interest.  

    But Winnowil had long ago tired of the High Ones.  Indeed, as the years
    had passed, the skills of Elves here and now had perhaps eclipsed the
    forefathers of their race.  Certainly Rayek.  He and the Palace were
    essentially of one mind and body.  Winnowil flushed with pride.  She,
    too, had grown.  Just as exercise makes the muscle stronger, so too had
    use of her powers improved their range.  Their scope.  Their force...

    A cry for help!

    From this world.  From this sea.  Like a darting fish, Winnowil was gone.  

    Bursting through the sea, alive with strength.  One of the Leviathans was
    in danger.  

    In pain.  

    Her mind raced ahead, arriving in the blink of an eye.  Trolls!  They had
    learned to built powerful ships.  Heavy woods and steel.  She could not
    break apart their hulls as she could the more fragile human craft.

    The trolls were hunting.  She saw the harpoons fire upon the gentle
    giant of the deep.  She felt the creature's terror and pain.  Its mind was
    vast, but its thoughts were emotions.  Her body caught her mind.  

    Hundreds of yards beneath the surface of the sea, the trolls' doom spun
    unseen.  Above her, the powerful hull cut through the brilliant dome of
    light that marked the water's end.  A dagger.  A spear.  

    A weapon.  

    A fierce concentration wracked her body.  If she could not crack the
    hull, she would crack the sea!

    Crack the sea!

    Winnowil flung her arms wide.  The waters parted.  A canyon in the
    ocean, robbing the hunting ship of that which supported it.  In an
    instant, the troll ship passed from unshakeable confidence to
    unknowable terror.  The sea had swallowed them!

    Exhausted, Winnowil released her hold on the waves.  There was a
    thunderous clap.  Deafening.  She hadn't considered that.  But it was
    over.

    She watched the trolls die.

    She moved towards one the wounded giant.  Several long spears
    protruded from its flesh.  Winnowil could heal it.  She would heal it.  She
    was still the greatest healer this world had known, even if those who
    walked the surface had forgotten of her.

    Or made her the stuff of dreams and nightmares.

    ____________

    Data stood stiffly in the center of Wesley's Star Fleet room, turning

    about every so often to observe.  Picard and Troi fumbled about.

    "So, Inspector?"

    "That would be me, Captain?"

    "Yes, Data.  What have you deduced so far?"

    "The evidence would suggest the suspect left in hurry."

    "Fear of discovery?"

    "I do not think so, Captain.  At least, I do not think the suspect was
    afraid of any discovery being made in this room.  Often, an individual
    who fears discovery of something wrong goes to great lengths to create
    a facade of rightness.  This chamber does not look particularly 'right.'"

    "What's wrong with it?" asked Troi, "And why do you keep using the
    word 'suspect?'  I find it distracting and a little annoying."

    "Nothing is 'wrong' with the appearance of the room, other than to say it
    is not 'right.'  It is not particularly well-kept.  Nor is it particularly 
    not well-kept.  Often, a person with something to hide will exhibit more
    extreme behavior towards everyday things.  As for the word 'suspect,'
    Counselor, I use it because it is accurate.  Which word would you
    prefer?"

    "Wesley."

    ____________

    Doctor Crusher helped Guinan sit up.  The instruments had reported no
    signs of physical trauma, yet the evidence of pain on the woman's face
    was readily evident.  It obviously took great effort for her to speak.
    Doctor Crusher told her not to, but Guinan insisted.

    "I must tell the Captain.  Warn the Captain!"

    She winced in agony.  Doctor Crusher raised an injector.  Guinan waved
    her off.

    "There's something out there...  Something dark.  Cold."

    Her breath was coming in gasps.  Doctor Crusher pushed her back down
    on the medical bed.  Ignoring the feeble protestations.  She raised the
    injector.  Pressed it against flesh.  In moments, Guinan had passed into a
    comforting oblivion.  Doctor Crusher tapped her communicator.

    "Captain..."

    ____________

    Troi had become impatient with Data.  She turned to Captain Picard.

    There was more to this room than misplaced clothing.  There was
    something here!  Or the fading aroma of something that was here.

    "Captain," she said, "a powerful emotional drama has played itself out in
    this room."

    "A struggle?"

    "A struggle, yes.  But not of bodies.  Of minds.  And wills.  But not
    entirely a struggle.  It is more of a..."

    Picard looked at her expectantly.  Troi realized that what she would say
    would seem funny.  Or embarrassing.  Or both.  But it was what
    happened.  What she felt had happened.

    "More of a what?" the Captain asked.

    "A seduction, Captain."

    She could see the faint twitch of a smile form on his lips.  She rushed on.

    "An alien seduction.  The emotional residue remains.  I believe that I
    can form a clearer picture of what transpired by entering a trance.  I
    will need to concentrate for quite some time.  Without interruption."  

    Her seriousness was infectuous.  Picard nodded.  Grimly.  An alien
    seduction?  He did not like the sound of that.  Troi sat upon the floor.
    She controlled her breathing.  Rythmic.  Her eyes closed.  Time passed.
    Picard and Data waited.  And then, her eyes snapped open.  A look of
    terror.  Her body arched.

    "Captain!"

    Picard rushed to her.

    "Eyes!  Two eyes!  No!  Moons!  Two moons!  Water...  Waves!  Something
    is pulling me down!  Pulling me down!  Captain!"

    She screamed.  And then, fell silent.

    "Captain..." chirped a voice from nowhere.  Picard jumped.  It was Doctor
    Crusher.

    Captain Picard was not Captain Picard for being unable to react quickly.  

    "Beam us up immediately, Doctor.  We have a medical emergency."

    Troi was not breathing.

    ____________

    Part Three

    Information.  It was his name.  His purpose.  To analyze and provide
    information.  And he was very good at it.  An artificial being developed
    to augment the capabilities of creatures designed by the chance
    collisions of a billion years.

    Data had, at his fingertips, the universe as the Federation knew it.
    Every star.  Every planet.  Everything.  A sea of information so vast, no
    mortal being could absorb it.  Even Data could not master it all.  But he
    did not need to.

    Moons and water.  And life.  These criteria would limit considerably the
    number of worlds he  need consider.  Wesley could not have discovered
    a new star given  his available resources.  Furthermore, he could not
    track the  source of the telepathic being's 'transmissions.'  He must have
    deduced the location of the planet from available knowledge.  If Wesley
    could do it, it stood to reason that Data could.  Unless the basis for the
    choice depended in some part upon a thought process alien to an
    artificial creature.

    A guess.

    ____________

    Doctor Crusher sighed.  There was nothing she could do.  Troi was not
    regaining conciousness.  And the doctor had no idea why.  

    There was no reason for it.  As with Guinan, nothing was physically
    wrong with the Counselor.

    Nothing but a coma.

    Beverly looked at the Captain.

    "I don't know, Jean-Luc.  I just don't know.  She shows no sign of
    physical trauma.  She should be fine.  I can keep her like this
    indefinitely.  But..."

    Picard noded.  But should they?  Was she really dead?  Would her mind
    recover?  Doctor T'Sellar brushed her hand across Troi's forehead.
    Picard waited for the enigmatic Vulcan to speak.  They were a
    mysterious, powerful race, these Vulcans.  The Federation was fortunate
    to have encountered them.

    "She is trapped in a state of contemplation," said the Vulcan after
    several moments.  "This condition is not unknown to us.  It is actually
    common among the very holiest of our people."

    "A trance?" asked Doctor Crusher.

    "Yes.  One of this depth is almost never achieved by any but the greatest
    monks.  Her mind has completely left this plane.  No link to the body
    remains.  Perhaps her Betazed training will serve her.  Perhaps not."

    "If not?" demanded Picard.

    T'Selar knew the humans would not understand.  They did not see this
    as a fascinating development.  They saw it as a horror.  A tragedy.  And
    her experience with humanity taught T'Selar that they did not take
    fundamental truths well, where such truths conflicted with their own
    desires.  If Counselor Troi's training was not sufficient, she would never
    return to her body.  She would be lost.

    "If not, she has - for all purposes - died."

    That was the answer.  And already she could see the signs of refusal
    growing in their faces.  Denial of reality.  This denial  was often a source
    of pride in humanity.  A willingness to face a bleak future with hope.
    But T'Selar saw it only as a source of needless frustration.  Too much
    energy was spent on these hopes.  They did not understand.

    The chirp of his communicator cut Picard off before he could speak.
    Data had finished his task.

    "Captain, I have isolated seven worlds which have mulitple moons,
    bodies of standing water, and are known to support life, or have a high
    probability of being able to support life - and are within the estimated
    ranges for Cadet Crusher's primitive Bird of Prey."

    Picard nodded, though he knew Data couldn't see him.  There was
    nothing left for him to do, here.  The Doctors would be able to choose the
    best course of action without him.  He said as much.  

    The two doctors watched him go.  Beverly turned to T'Selar.

    "So, what do we do?"

    ____________

    The dreams had grown stronger.  More intense.  Longer.  Wesley knew
    he was moving in the right direction, but what would he find when he
    got there?  

    Who cared?

    It would be something different.  Something beyond...  Beyond what?
    He didn't care.  Very soon, he would be landing on this strange world of
    two moons.  And then he would know.

    ____________

    Picard listened intently to Data's analysis.  What had been an amusing
    development had taken on a terrifying, sinister edge.  Two members of
    his crew had been attacked.  Guinan with horrible pain, and Troi with
    the loss of her soul.  And Wesley.  What would become of Wesley, if
    they failed to solve the mystery?  And what would prevent this being
    from striking again?  And what could they do about it?  And which
    world?

    So many questions.  But the answer to the last was imperative.  They
    couldn't begin to seek the answers to other questions until they knew
    what they were dealing with.  So, which world?  Three with no known
    life.  One world with a soup of early, primitive microbes.  One with
    several sophisticated civilizations, around the level of feudal Japan or
    imperial China.  Under full isolation by order of the Federation as a
    developing world not yet ready for contact with interstellar travellers.
    Two member worlds of the Federation, crawling with all manner of life,
    from every corner of explored space.

    Could there be some unknown being on one of the three worlds
    hospitable to life, but showing no signs?  Could there be something
    lurking in the primordial seas of the fourth world?  Or the fifth?  Or
    could someone, something, have infiltrated the Federation?

    "Recommendation, Mr. Data?"

    "Of the set, Captain, it is most likely that a powerful telepathic being
    would be found on either of the two member worlds.  Not only would
    such a creature have the opportunity to develop there naturally, but
    relatively open facilities for interplanetary travel increase the
    population pool essentially to all Federation space."

    "And it would be easier to hide," added Commander Riker grimly.

    "And it would be easier for an incoming ship to be detected.  Even one
    that is cloaked," said Picard, "Wesley would know that."

    "That is correct, Captain," replied Data, "but Wesley has no reason to
    suspect we would be able to limit his destinations to water-holding
    worlds with two or more moons."

    Picard nodded.  It did not feel right to him. But Wesley couldn't possibly
    suspect they were on his trail.  Of course, whatever attacked Troi and
    Guinan knew.  And, of course, whatever attacked the two women and
    whatever 'seduced' Wesley into this game were likely one and the same.
    Picard didn't know what to do.

    But he had to decide.  He was the captain.

    "Commander Riker, alert both member worlds of the situation.  

    Instruct them to use every available resource to track the Bird of Prey.
    Commander Data, assist them in developing detection algorithms."

    "And us, Captain?" asked Riker.

    "Set in a course for the fifth world.  Maximum warp."

    Data cocked his head to one side.

    "Captain, that world is under maximum quarantine by order of the
    Federation.  Its civilization is not to be disturbed by any contact with
    interstellar..."

    "I am aware of that, Commander Data.  Now, execute your
    responsibilities.  I will be in sickbay."

    Picard stood.  This would distribute the available resources over the
    widest possible number of worlds.  There was no need for the Enterprise
    on either Federation planet.  And Picard had a strange feeling looking at
    the projected image of that fifth world.  A feeling he was right.

    The Enterprise shuddered as he stepped into the turbo-lift.  The warp
    engines were bending the fabric of space.  They were off into the
    unknown.  

    Not completely unknown, thought Picard grimly.  Something
    out there can kill across the void of space.

    ____________

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