Subj: Reflections Pt.6
Date: 1/1/99 11:46:00 AM Central Standard Time
From: marcos1

The man sat in the cave. The fire cast flickering shadows on the wall. “Life had been described: ‘a fathomless and boundless deep, There we wander, there we weep,” Jean-Luc said, smiling. “But in the twenty-fourth century, it is a time of boundless joy and a renewed sense of wonder.”

“That is beautiful fantasy,” Angelique said. She winked an eye at Picard. “Is that how you began your book?”

“Yes,” Jean-Luc said, clearing his throat. “The publishers in Boston are going to run it as a serial.” He spoke proudly. “The future according to Jean-Luc Picard Esquire, a promising young writer that hails from the island of Martinique.”

“Jean-Luc,” Josette said, “I’m so very proud of you.” Her hazel eyes were glowing. “Your stories of fantasy are so unique. I’ve never read anything like it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Does my papa know about this?”

“No, I didn’t think that Andre would understand,” Jean-Luc replied. “He has hopes that I will lead a fleet of merchant ships from the Collins shipyard." He smiled. “I see my future more as a writer. I have hopes that my vision of the future might prevent suffering yet to be.”

“But how do you know about suffering to be?” asked Josette, teasing. “Are you also a prophet?”

“No,” Jean-Luc replied. “I don’t believe in prophets. ‘No, man can see what will be. Only what might be. The future course of mankind can only be determined by man, and his free will.’” “That was said by a prophet called Nostradamus. He predicted that half of mankind would be destroyed by the end of the twentieth century. But it didn’t happen. He had predicted only one possible future. Mankind through free-will set a different course.”

“Is that part of your storybook?” Josette asked, smiling.

“Yes,” Jean-Luc replied. “But I believe it to be true.”

The young man and two young ladies sat quietly, gazing into the fire, their thoughts on the future.

~~~~~

The shuttle pod went into orbit around the blue-green planet. “Something happened down there,” Morgan said, grimly, “something which changed the direction of history. And it’s up to us to prevent it.” He was a man in his thirties, blonde, blue eyed. There was a sense of great age about him. He had seen too much and done too much, terrible things for the sake of his special unit of the Federation, called section 33.

Celeste sat quietly at the helm. “I sense great evil, near the island called Martinique.” She was blind; but could in truth see more than almost anyone. She had grown up a small defenseless waif, living on one of the outer planets of the galaxy. A planet largely ignored by the Borg; but she had lived in poverty and fear, until she was adopted by section 33. She had visions that couldn’t be ignored.

“I’ve already set a course for that island,” Morgan said. “There are indications of a time displacement there, possibly from the twenty-fourth century.”

“Will it be necessary to kill?” Celeste asked. “I don’t like the idea of killing another. As my powers have grown, my empathy for my fellow being has become so much greater. It is wrong to kill.”

“How can you even ask that?” Morgan growled. “This twit, whoever he is, has subverted the future. He traveled into the past and somehow gave the Borg the upper hand. Our century, the twenty-fifth, is full of nothing but misery, poverty and fear...or assimilation by the Borg.”

Celeste’s dark eyes began to mist with a tear. “But perhaps it was all just an accident of some sort. Maybe, he meant well.” She smoothed down her short black hair over her Romulan ears.

“I don’t care,” Morgan said. “You know the protocol for section 33. We follow no rules, have no mercy, and get results, this person must die.”

To be continued—