Date: Fri, 17 Nov 1995 14:56:53 -0600 Reply-To: Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, 17/21 (REPOST) ADULT "I appreciate your frustration, Mr. MacLeod, however I am sure you understand the necessity of the situation," Picard said quietly. "I suppose I do, but I'll be damned if I have to like it!" "Liking it is not a requirement. The truth is." "You won't like the truth." "The truth is often unpleasant, however it is what we deal in." "`Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,' Captain. Have you never lied to protect yourself? To protect your friends? Do you tell everyone you meet everything about yourself? Have you no secrets, nothing you would rather be known only to your closest friends? I beg leave to doubt it." Picard leaned forward, his expression thoughtful as he steepled his fingers. "I can't say that I've never done any of those things as I have done all of them. However, you may rely on our discretion. Unless something about you proves to be a threat to us, or to the Federation, it need go no further than this room." Duncan looked around the room, from face to face, each person in turn. He lifted an eyebrow. "You're telling me that seven people can be counted on to never reveal my secrets to anyone else?" He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. "Tell me another one." Picard stiffened visibly. "Mr. MacLeod, I would, and have, trusted these people with my life. They have never let me down. I will thank you not to insult their integrity." Duncan looked into Picard's eyes, and found honesty as well as anger in his steady gaze. He shook his head. "I have no doubt about their integrity, I just know human nature. You don't get to be..." he paused, considering. He might as well tell them, it was all going to come out anyway. "You don't get to be nearly a thousand years old without becoming something of an expert on the subject." Picard didn't respond for a moment, but LaForge did. "Are you telling us that you were born in the fourteenth century?" His voice held clear disbelief. Duncan smiled. "No, actually in the sixteenth. I have a couple of hundred years to go before I hit the big one-zero-zero-zero." Geordie started to laugh, then he looked at Guinan. His smile faded and he looked to Picard, then his gaze swept the others. "You're serious!" Duncan nodded. "All too." Beverly's face took on an expression of awestruck amazement. "Eight hundred years? After the tests I ran I can see that it's possible, for you, but I don't understand it! It must be some sort of mutation. Tell me, were your parents unusually long-lived?" "We have no parents. We are always foundlings." The look of shock on Beverly Crusher's face was priceless. "We?" she squeaked, clearly stunned. "There are more of you?" "Quite a few. That's part of why I didn't want to tell you. I expose not only myself, but all those like me. I put them at the same risk that I take on." "What risk?" Worf asked. "I see no risk in the truth." Duncan looked at the Klingon, but before he could speak, Picard did so. "I think I understand. You said it earlier. You've been burned too many times. Witch hunts, persecutions, pogroms." Duncan nodded. "Not to mention experimentation. Doctor Crusher isn't the first to want to find out what makes us tick. Few have been as gentle. The Eugenics Wars were the worst time for us, fortunately in the chaos that followed we were able to locate and destroy Singh's records. He had six of us, none survived the experiments." He paused a moment, trying not to remember the nature of those experiments, and their results. He'd lost good friends there. "Duncan?" Guinan said his name softly, drawing him back to the present. Her gaze was warm and concerned. He sighed. "Sorry. Sometimes the remembering is too much. I get so tired of losing friends." He looked at Picard, "Can you see my dilemma?" Picard nodded. "I understand it better now, but knowing there are more of you compounds my own dilemma. You may not be a threat, but others like you could be. Unless you can prove otherwise, I feel I must report this to Star Fleet Command." Duncan realized he was going to have to play his ace. "I can't prove otherwise, I'd be a liar if I were to try. But there's no need to inform Star Fleet, Captain. They know. If you want confirmation, contact Admiral Tamar Dawson. I'd appreciate it if you would do so on a secure channel, of course, but she'll confirm what I've told you." "Admiral Dawson?" Picard said, clearly surprised. "Admiral Dawson?" Guinan echoed, with a slightly different emphasis. Duncan looked at her and nodded, grinning. "Joe finally found a woman who'd put up with him. Delphia reminded me a bit of you." He paused a moment, and winked. "Though nowhere near as intriguing, of course." She chuckled. "Good save. I want details," she looked around, as if just realizing they weren't alone. "Later." He nodded, smiling a little at her obvious discomfort. "Later." Picard cleared his throat. "I know Admiral Dawson, and I will contact her. I do find it odd, though, that you fought so hard against telling us, if Star Fleet already knows." Duncan gnawed at the inside of his cheek and tried to think of a way to get out of this one. He had hoped Picard wouldn't be quite so shrewd. He should have known better. "I didn't say all of Star Fleet knew. Our presence is known only to a select few." "Who does the selecting?" Riker asked pointedly. He sighed. He was going to have to go one step further. At times like this he wished he had Methos handy. The older Immortal always seemed to take a perverse pleasure in dealing with this sort of thing. `Spin control' as he'd once put it. He hoped Tamar would forgive him for this. "There's an organization who keeps track of us. They're called Watchers. Members of Admiral Dawson's family have been Watchers for centuries." "Watchers? This gets more and more convoluted. Now not only are there... what do you call yourselves?" Riker asked. "Immortals, though it's somewhat of a misnomer. We can be killed. And no, I'm not going to tell you how." He grinned. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid." That drew a chuckle from his inquisitors before Riker continued. "So we have Immortals and Watchers. Pretty damned convenient if you ask me." "Not if you're an Immortal. It can be a damned nuisance. Actually, it's not always a picnic for the Watchers, either. My co-pilot was my Watcher, and it didn't turn out to be a great job for him." Riker's eyes narrowed. "Did you kill him?" For a moment Duncan was too stunned to speak. When he finally did, it was with outrage. "No, I didn't kill him, damn it! Jeremy Dikembe was my friend! I don't kill innocents!" "So who do you kill?" Picard asked quietly. "You're a trained swordsman, a fighter good enough to disarm a Klingon warrior. I get the impression you don't fight for fun." "I fight only when necessary. I fight to save my life, or someone else's," he looked at Guinan. She nodded acknowledgement. "You fight with a sword?" Data asked. At Duncan's nod, he continued. "That seems rather anachronistic." Duncan laughed drily. "You don't know the half of it. Suffice it to say our battles are rather... traditional." "Ah, ritual combat!" Worf said approvingly. "Exactly," Duncan agreed. "We have some pretty strict rules." "Would sabotaging a ship fall within those rules?" LaForge asked suddenly. Duncan turned sharply to look at the engineer, noticing that everyone else had done the same thing. "Sabotage?" Duncan asked. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about the Darius. I just confirmed my suspicions today. Your crash was no accident caused by an aging ship. Someone deliberately rigged those systems to cut out. You're lucky you weren't killed outright." He stopped, and looked a bit sheepish. "I mean, well, you know what I meant." Duncan stared at him. "Deliberate? Someone deliberately caused those malfunctions?" Cold fury suffused him. "That's murder! Someone murdered Jeremy, damn it! Why? What would be the point? Piracy seems unlikely, as what I carried would be of no value to anyone outside of Valhalla. There's no reason for anyone to do such a thing!" "What about you? Could someone have wanted to harm you?" Deanna asked. "It makes no sense. The only people who might want to harm me also know that I would survive a crash, no matter what." Guinan leaned forward intently. "Maybe that's it. If someone knew you'd survive the crash no matter what, they might have planned it that way, to isolate you. I know from experience that some of your kind are more expedient than honorable." She had a point. It could well have been another Immortal, looking to take easy prey. The deliberate disabling of the replicator pointed to that, since days without food or water would leave him weakened and less able to fight. But who could it be? He'd been out of circulation for a long time, he didn't think anyone knew where he was, not even his friends. "It could have been," he said finally. "I won't say I have no enemies, and you're right about expediency. Some of us don't follow the rules. Unfortunately, if they know I was aboard the Darius, they also know my destination. Whoever it is may be waiting for me on Valhalla." Picard looked at Data. "Commander, how far off-schedule would a detour to Valhalla put us?" "It will take an additional sixteen hours and twenty eight minutes, sir. I could give you the seconds if you..." "No, thank you Data." Picard said hastily. "We don't have to be at Ursa Prime for a week," Riker put in. "In light of the sabotage to the Darius resulting in the death of your first officer, a Federation citizen, I believe it might not be a bad idea to give you a `lift' to Valhalla, since it will not compromise our schedule. Besides," he smiled. "They have riding stables on Valhalla, do they not?" Duncan looked at him, puzzled not only by his question, but by this unlooked-for aid. He'd expected them to revile him, not offer to help! "They do, why?" A ripple of laughter circled the room. Deanna Troi grinned and took pity on his obvious confusion. "The captain has a saddle he'd like to get out of storage." Picard grinned. "Perhaps this time I'll actually get to use it for riding." The captain was obviously a horseman. That explained part of it, but not all of it. Before he could ask, Picard spoke again. "I think we're finished here for now. Everyone back to stations. Mr. MacLeod, perhaps you would like to work with Mr. Worf to see if you can untangle the mystery of who might have sabotaged your vessel?" "I would, thank you sir." Picard nodded and the group began to disperse. As he stood, Duncan leaned toward Guinan. "I don't understand," he said softly, so only she could hear. "Why are they helping me? I thought I was in for the inquisition, not..." he spread his hands, unable to come up with an appropriate description, "...this." She smiled. "They're good people, Duncan; fair people. They've been through things you can't even imagine, and to be honest, compared to a lot of what they've experienced, you barely even raise a flicker on the odd- meter. They will judge you on your actions, no more, no less. If you're honest with them and treat them with respect, they'll do the same for you." He snorted. "Honest and respectful? What am I, a boy scout?" She laughed. "I've heard almost those exact words from Jean-Luc on more than one occasion. You two are a lot alike. It wouldn't hurt either of you to loosen up now and then." "What? In public?" Duncan asked in mock-dismay, then spoiled it by smiling. "I still can't believe this." "Mr. MacLeod?" Picard said, drawing his attention. Duncan looked up to find the Captain watching him intently. "Yes?" "I will expect a few more answers over dinner." Duncan nodded somberly. "You'll have whatever I can give." Picard nodded back. "Good." **** "Now, that is what I call dinner." Duncan drank the last of his wine and sighed, "I can almost imagine being back in Paris, just around the same time I met you, Guinan." He smiled at his host, "A few months before she and I met, I'd been living on a barge across from Notre Dame. A friend of mine ran a little restaurant not far from there and he would have killed for this recipe, Captain. Thank you, for helping bring back a few good memories." "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Picard picked up the wine bottle and refilled Duncan's glass at his guest's nod. "Guinan?" "No, thank you, I think I've had enough for one night." Both men smiled and Picard continued, "It is one of many recipes that have been in my family for generations and it's always something of an adventure to see what the replicators will do to them." Guinan put down her fork and leaned back in her chair, satisfied, "This time, it seems the recipe came away unscathed. I applaud your ancestors, not only for creating it in the first place, but for having the good sense to hang onto it." "It's a pleasure to have someone else who appreciates real food to try them on. I fear that most people's palates have been ruined by years of eating synthetics." Picard pushed his chair back and gestured toward the living area, "Shall we?" Picard stepped aside to let Guinan and Duncan precede him into the living room portion of his quarters. He rarely entertained strangers in his sanctuary but MacLeod was different. Guinan's red and gold finery was testament to just how different. In all the years he'd known her he'd never seen her so seemingly carefree and happy. It's as if encountering MacLeod again stripped away the centuries and she'd begun to resemble the young woman he'd met in 19th century San Francisco. Picard hung back a moment, ostensibly to clear the dinner table, but it also gave the two of them an opportunity to speak privately. Dinner conversation had centered on Duncan. He'd touched on many of the high points of his more than eight hundred years, speaking of the personal side of historic events and where he was when momentous things happened. Picard still had difficulty accepting that the man admiring his small art collection had seen live broadcasts of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. He wished he had years to talk with this man, but he really had only this evening and couldn't afford to indulge his historic curiosity much more. There were other topics to be covered. The relaxed atmosphere could not be allowed to interfere with the purpose of the gathering. Picard had questions that only MacLeod could answer. "Captain?" MacLeod gestured to the shelves before him. "This is a most impressive collection." Reaching out to lightly touch the shelf near one piece, Duncan continued, "Ixmaili, isn't it? Third cycle?" "Fourth, actually. You are interested in archeology?" Picard joined his guests at the shelves. "You might say I have a vested interest in antiquities." Guinan rolled her eyes at his comment and shaking her head, moved over to sit on the sofa. Duncan smiled at her reaction. "I used to deal in art and antiques. I've found that it's an interest that has stayed with me." His eyes fell on a small bronze statue of a nude human male. "This is Taylor's 'Prospero' isn't it? I remember attending one of her shows." "You knew Rena Taylor?" Picard began to wonder if the human woman had been born whom MacLeod didn't know. "No, unfortunately, we never met, but it wasn't from lack of trying on my part." Picard smiled at Duncan's expression, "I... discovered her work a few years ago. The original of this statue is in the North American Museum on Earth." Gesturing to include many of the pieces in his quarters he continued, "Replicators many not always do justice to fine food, but they do have their uses." "How true, and buying stock in MMS Enterprises is one of the smartest things I ever did." MacLeod drifted over to where Guinan was sitting. Picard nodded, his face taking on a more serious expression, "I can see where virtual immortality would have its advantages." He paused to sip his wine, "Wealth, property... power, all would be fairly easy to acquire for someone who could make plans in terms of centuries instead of decades." Picard sat down opposite MacLeod and Guinan. "It must provide quite a temptation." MacLeod's eyes flashed for a moment and Picard realized he'd hit a nerve. "Not to me, it isn't," he said flatly. "Come, Mr. MacLeod," Picard said, leaning back in his chair, "do you expect me to believe that you've never sought to acquire wealth and power? What of your investment in MMS Enterprises? Surely you didn't invest in replicator technology expecting to lose money?" Guinan settled into her seat reminding Picard of someone watching a play, or a fencing match. "Of course not, that would be ridiculous, but not to the extent you imply! Captain, think of what you're suggesting." MacLeod rose and began to pace. "Wealth of the type you're implying attracts attention and that's the one thing that we can't afford. There was a time when all one of us had to do was move on to another village, another continent and start over." MacLeod stood looking out at the passing stars, seeming to speak only to them. "Technology began making that harder and harder. You have to plan decades in advance. You need three or four identities to fall back on and all the time watching your... your back." MacLeod turned back to face Picard, his eyes dark and brooding, "As for power, it comes in many guises. You can't understand the kind of power we deal in." He looked into the dregs of his wine and continued more to himself than to the others in the room, "I'm not even sure I understand it." Picard used all of his training to retain his outward calm. He didn't need to be an empath to see that his guest was deeply troubled. In his fascination with the man as living history he'd nearly forgotten the human element, and he was beginning to believe that no matter what else MacLeod was, he was very human. Still, he mustn't let the man's obvious pain distract him. He needed answers and he needed them now. "Have you spoken with Admiral Dawson yet?" MacLeod asked as he sat back down next to Guinan, seeming to drawn some measure of strength from her. "I spoke with her, and she confirmed that you are no threat to my ship or the Federation. That is, however, all she said." Picard let a little of his irritation at that non-productive conversation show. Mysteries between the pages of a book were all well and good, but he despised them on his ship. "Captain, you have the assurances of Guinan, whom you trust and of a Starfleet admiral. What more can I add? Isn't that enough?" MacLeod seemed to have lost much of his earlier animation, his dark eyes seemed to look out from a much darker place, but his words sparked the fury Picard had not felt able to show to the Admiral when she, too had thwarted his quest for knowledge. "No, sir! It is not good enough!" All but slamming his glass down on the side table, Picard radiated the anger and indignation that his youthful temper had evolved into. "What can you add? How about when did your people first appear? How many are you? What of those who don't have the trust of Starfleet admirals? What of those of you who don't have any compunction against plotting for power? I need answers!" "All right!" MacLeod was on his feet again, anger in every line of his body, "Some of us are power-hungry and vicious! But you know what? We're no worse than you mortals! Maybe we're better! Has that occurred to you? Caligula, Hitler, Khan Singh, they were mortals! At least most of us limit our depravities to ourselves!" Picard could almost see the tension run out of the man as he spent his anger and again, that all-encompassing sadness began to creep back in. Macleod sighed and continued quietly as he resumed his seat, "Captain, for the main, we are not builders or makers. That is your gift. You are the empire builders, the artists, the thinkers. We create nothing." He closed his eyes for a moment, "Some of us are evil, but they merely serve to concentrate it in themselves. Can you tell me there are no evil humans?" Silence settled between them for a moment as Picard considered Macleod's words. He'd often thought that if only he could live long enough that he could finally find that spark of talent that would let him paint masterworks, or finally get the time to write all the poetry he felt he had in him. What an incredible irony that those who had the time didn't have the ability, or at least didn't think they did. Light laughter roused Picard from his reverie. Both he and Macleod turned to Guinan. "Well? Would you care to let us in on the joke, Guinan?" Picard found himself somewhat relieved that the mood had been broken. "I was just thinking how much alike you two are. I do seem to always gravitate to type." Picard just managed to keep his jaw from dropping, but he felt warmth creep into his face and fervently hoped he wasn't blushing. Guinan's absurd comment had what he supposed was the desired effect on Macleod as well since his brooding expression had been replaced by a small, but genuine smile. "Gentlemen, shall we cut to the chase?" Apparently, Guinan intended to make the most of the current change in atmosphere. "I suspect, Jean-Luc, that no immortal can answer many of your questions. Even they don't know their origins, or numbers." At Macleod's nod she continued, "If someone does decide to investigate those matters, and it's during your lifetime, I doubt that anyone would object to you being informed of them. After all, you already know of Immortals and the Watchers and you are also a trustworthy person." Picard watched Macleod's face carefully and the change there did more to convince him than anything that had been said throughout the evening. Macleod really couldn't answer and looked interested in being able to someday provide the information. "Captain, I can give you a promise." Macleod leaned forward earnestly. "If I ever have reason to believe that one of us poses a threat to any Federation ship, colony or personnel, I'll notify someone immediately. Either a local Federation official, Admiral Dawson or you. I have no desire to see innocents hurt." Picard nodded, more to himself than to MacLeod, "All right. I will accept that, if I must... and it seems that I must. I'm still not entirely satisfied with this matter, but I can see that I need to take it up again with Admiral Dawson." MacLeod rose, and offered his hand to Guinan. "It's late, Captain, and perhaps we should end this evening before we find ourselves at each other's throats again." His quiet smile echoed some of Picard's feelings as well. He had no desire to alienate the man before him. Indeed, he =========================================================================