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and expanded, reaching out to enclose the
Enterprise
. As it encompassed them, a cacaphony of sound tore through the ship, the scream of metal being stressed beyond its limits. The entire battle section was shaken violently, forcing the crew to grab for anything solid that they could cling to. The raging, howling sound rose to a peak, and the violence of the shaking increased. A fierce, blinding flash of light bathed the battle bridge.

    Then there was silence.

Chapter Three

    T HE LIGHT FADED .

    Picard was no longer on the battle bridge. He, Data, Troi and Tasha were seated in the prisoner’s dock of an immense courtroom. The courtroom was gleaming steel and glass, stark and supremely functional. Spectators were still filing in, and a buzz of excited speculation filled the air. A cadre of soldiers was spotted around the courtroom. They were armed and appeared to be uniformly surly. The clothing, hairstyles and facial decorations of the spectators also indicated the time period was the same as the soldiers’. Picard had always enjoyed the study of history; even the unpleasant chapters had their lessons to be learned. He recognized the architecture and tone of this setting in which they had been placed as apparent prisoners.

    Picard was not sure exactly how it had happened. A time warp? Not likely. Transport to a carefully prepared setting? Possible, but if so, where were the other bridge officers? Why were only he, Troi, Tasha and Data here? Had
Q
changed the battle bridge somehow? That seemed the most likely probability.
Q
had had no difficulties changing his personal appearance when he appeared on the
Enterprise
and had ended with a characterization of this time period.

    The sound of a bell drew their attention to a man at the front of the courtroom. An Asian in a long robe appeared, carrying a slim portable viewscreen. From his studies, Picard knew this would be a Mandarin-Bailiff. The man nodded to a court functionary, who once more used an ancient Oriental bell to gain attention.

    “The prisoners will all stand,” the Mandarin-Bailiff announced. Picard motioned to his officers to remain seated.

    Data had been studying the room with great curiosity. Picard could almost feel the intensity of analyzation from the android as he catalogued the courtroom, its spectators and appurtenances. “Historically intriguing, Captain,” Data commented. “Very, very accurate.”

    Picard nodded, his admiration held in abeyance by the feeling that this setting would be used as a weapon against them. “Mid-21st Century, the post atomic horror . . .” Picard hated the era. It had been a time of deep human crisis. Still wounded and bleeding from the terror of nuclear war, humanity had sought answers to its pain and problems through the merciless application of a new form of dictatorial government and law representing neither capitalism nor communism, but taking a few dollops from both. It had been the last of the worst Earth governments, for once it had been overthrown, humanity began to grow toward its true potential.
Q
, of course, had chosen to ignore later eras that would place humans in a better light.

    The court functionary clanged the bell again. “All present, make respectful attention to honored judge!” the bailiff intoned.

    The spectators, still pushing and crowding to get in, dropped into silence and stood. Some had to be prodded to their feet by the heavily armed soldiers. Picard held out his hand, palm down, to Data, Troi and Tasha, indicating they should not get up.

    Troi shook her head, concerned. “Careful, sir. This is
not
an illusion or a dream.”

    “These courts happened in our past.”

    “I don’t understand either, but this is real. I can
feel
that. If
Q
has created a reality here, the soldiers’ guns are authentic and we could be shot if we don’t obey.”

    “If we’re on trial,
Q
won’t want us shot right away,” Picard pointed out.

    “No, he might give us a minute,” Tasha said