The Sands of Time (A Star Trek: The Next Generation Fan Fiction)

Chapter Five

"Relay that continually over all frequencies and to all known Sandorian channels," he ordered.

"Yes sir," Worf answered. I imagined my voice being relayed continuously over all Sandorian communication channels. It was an amusing thought. "Still no response."

I turned to Will. "Can I see all the channels you're hailing them on again?"

"Of course, right up here."

I led the way to the rear of the Bridge and watched as Will pulled up a list of Sandorian governmental communication channels on science station. Quickly scanning the list, the same I had seen the day before, I confirmed that they had added all the possibilities I had told Riker about. I tapped a few buttons, opening up civilian frequencies that were basically of no use. As the minutes ticked by, I began to see how useless this entire operation was, not to mention ridiculously futile.

"Sir, incoming transmission from the surface!"

Picard turned to look at Worf as Riker and I returned to our former positions beside the Captain.

"Well, it seems we have their attention," Picard said. "Onscreen."

The viewscreen flared into life to reveal a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair. She sat with her hands tightly balled-up in front of her and looked incredibly annoyed.

"Federation starship," she began, "you have been harassing our planet for some time but now you have resorted to cheap tricks in order to attract our attention. Explain yourselves."

Picard stepped forward a step. "I am Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of this vessel," he told her. "We have been attempting to make contact with your government and have recently enlisted the help of a Sandorian to help establish peaceful relations with your planet." Picard gestured toward Riker and me so I stepped forward.

"I'm Tasha Lawrence," I told the woman. "I was born on Sandor twenty-eight years ago. I know it's not your policy to communicate like this, but we haven't been able to get through to the proper authorities. If you could help us, we want to try—"

"I don't have the time to listen to this!" the woman said, cutting me off. "No Sandorian would work for the Federation against us. Don't try to deceive us again."

"I'm not..." I began, trying to explain that this was no deception, but the viewscreen went blank.

"Transmission ceased," Worf said. "I cannot reestablish contact."

I angrily clenched my fists at my side, frustrated by the Sandorian woman's ridiculous refusal to listen. I ground my teeth, trying to prevent an angry outburst. So this was what I had returned home for, what I had left down my carefully constructed guard for, to be called a liar and then cut off. I wished I was lying, that I had been born on some other world.

"They're not going to listen to me," I said, turning to Picard. It was the most I could say without resorting to a childish 'I told you so.'

"But they did respond," Picard responded, actually looking unfazed, "which is more than we have accomplished. We'll keep trying. Mr. Worf."

Worf nodded and pressed several buttons on his tactical display, presumable to continue transmitting my message. It seemed futile to me but, then again, they had all claimed this mission to be futile from the start. That was why they had come to me, because every single other option had failed.

This one wasn't going to. I hurried to the work station at the back of the Bridge and hit a few buttons, leaning over the display. The Federation didn't know much about Sandor but they had been taking scans of the planet for weeks now.