To give life
It is certainly not conventional to wait two years for a simple 'rescue mission' but apparently that rescue mission is probably going to be futile. I have been unconscious ever since...Well, you get the picture. The former life source was a former captain of a star ship called Buffalo. I know he left behind a crew of 430 back in 2259 shortly before Captain Kirk went out into space with his crew.
The disappearance of Captain March Hollow was much of a mystery to Starfleet as to what happened to The Buffalo when it vanished out of space to somewhere unknown. Maybe they crash landed on Class M planet and started a civilization of their own simply waiting to be found and taken home. Perhaps they never were found. Dying without their loved ones knowing what happened. They must have made a time capsule in their early late years with their story intact.
The only way they knew of his disappearance because a shuttle drifted off near to the USS Arizona ship with logs indicating there was once a passenger.
That passenger was Captain Hollow.
"That gem wasn't there,Pocirld," Came a young man's voice.
"Odd," I heard Picard.
"So...Where are we again?" Came a much different voice from the other young one.
"The temple," Picard said. "Five thousand years in the past, Blaffoy."
"Well Conjuctor," I assume this man is Blaffoy. "We are standing in history!"
"Don't remind me again," Conjuctor said.
"It seems one of us has to be on the table shortly after removing The Professor," Picard said.
I wanted to pull myself forward and yell 'No!'. I have realized a man should not lose his entire life over me. Me, of all people! I cannot see what is happening but the voices of the three men is enough for me to understand what is going on and being able to visualize it to the best of my ability. I just imagined the two other men as lanky men like Picard except much younger than him. They argue who should get on the table. Picard strongly felt that Blaffoy should be the one while Conjuctor believed he himself should be on the table over putting Blaffoy's life on the line.
"Only one person can be on the table," Picard said. "Back up, I am firing at the gem."
I hear something kling against the beaming to the phaser.
"I got it!" Blaffoy said.
I feel being moved, picked up essentially, into someone's arms.
"I cannot believe this man is light," Picard mused. "I expect to see one of you out."
I try to force my eyes open but they wouldn't budge.
My neck felt like it had been electrified, burned, and squeezed all at the same time. My arms and fingers felt ever so numb I started to wonder if I had become much like Stephen Hawking except able to move my head. The worst way to live out a pathetic life in a bag of meat. I wonder how Junior is doing learning on his own although with some help. I had convinced my brother to be his teacher if something 'terrible' ever happened to me such as exile and death of all things. My thoughts came to a sudden crash when light went through my eyelid and I felt my back leaning against wood.
I struggled to open my eyes.
"I coulda' saved Blaffoy," Conjuctor grumbled.
"He made his decision,Conjuctor," Picard said. "Blaffoy made his decision when he knocked you out, dragged you outside, and made the door close behind him."
"Don't have to remind me," Conjuctor said. "What is so important about this damn Science Professor anyway?"
"He used to be what Trelane is," Picard said. "But he is human and serves as a person of interest to the Federation." My eyes finally came to a open to notice it is in the afternoon. "I agree. I will be happy when this is over."
They were cutting potatoes using a type of rock normally used for Indian spears.
"You are flattering me," I said. "I am not that important, anymore."
Conjuctor stood up.
"You know; a man just died for you!" Conjuctor said.
"I wish I could have stopped you," I said. "I left that text two years ago on the wall!"
The men stare at me.
"No," Picard said. "That cannot be true."
"It has not been two years to us," Conjuctor said.
"Tell me, when did you start up the stairs?" I asked.
"It took us two hours to get up that mount," Conjuctor said.
"How long did it take for you two to get down?" I asked.
"Five minutes," Conjuctor said.
"You were running, weren't you?" I asked.
"No, we were not," Conjuctor said, as Picard stripped away the shell to the potato.
"You have to be kidding me," I said.
"Not the time to be kidding around," Conjuctor said. "Blaffoy was going to be a father next week! His child will grow up fatherless and his wife will never find the right guy to take care of her son properly!"
"Conjuctor," Picard said. "There is no need to be emotional."
"Emotional my ass," Conjuctor said. "We should have left you there."
"Glad we agree on one thing," I said.
"Look, we have to find a way to get back to the Enterprise and our current timeline," Picard said. "We do not need to be pinned against each other. It is illogical to burn our resources against one another."
I folded my arms with a sigh
"That is not going to be easy getting back to the Enterprise," I said.
"How do you know that?" Conjuctor asked.
"This planet may have geniuses but at this point in time they don't have technology that we are accustomed to," I said. "Right now they have horses, wheels, gardens, swords, castles, and kings!"
"Kings," Picard repeated, as though trying to grasp the idea of kings living in this era.
Just like Jean-Luc's tone when I laid out the problem to him and he repeated one word.
I sometimes wondered if I were talking to a rather intelligent cave when he did that.
John-Luc reminded me of my Picard.
"Kings," I said, again this time with a nod. "But no worry!" I shook my right hand. "We are not in the land of the king. We just have to stay out of their timeline and not get killed."
"Am I wrong that anyone with a disability in this era would be killed?" Conjuctor asked, glaring right through me.
"Sadly, they were confined in jail cells," I said. "People accused of witch craft were naturally burned at the stake. I decided to give them flaws before I left."
"You are an idiot," Conjuctor said.
"I know that now," I said. "And you two are going to find a way home."
"I won't work with this Vulcan," Conjuctor said.
"Is that offensive?" Picard asked.
"You tell me, Vulcan," Conjuctor said.
"Aw grief," I said. "I am not going to be sticking around for this fight."
"I do not see a reason to fight," Picard said.
"Because it is illogical," Conjuctor said, earning a glare from Picard.
"Please," Picard said. "I am only going to ask once; do not mock me."
"While you two sort through your differences, I will start making my own hide out," I said.
The two men stood up.
"Let's take this outside," Conjuctor said.
Course, the conflict wins out in survival between two human beings.
"We are outside," Picard said.
"Away from the professor," Conjuctor said.
"Ah," Picard said. "I accept the challenge."
The men left.
I decided to start first by getting to an area that is full of leaves, sticks, wide leaves, and a area that can be easily be turned into a shelter. I had to build a shelter first and then my wheelchair. I manage to drag myself a good hundred hundred yards from where I had been previously. I came to a stop seeing a strange sight; bamboo, fruit, big leaves, and rocks. The perfect place to start building.
I set onto work by using a couple boulders to outline the location.
How did I do that?
Along the way I befriended a rude ape who was stuck in a trap. I had the luck to free him and for that he owed me. The rude part about Wilbert, the ape, is that he scratches himself using the oddest products! I seriously cannot believe I befriended him, but then I had done out of my heart. I can't believe I had the heart for that. Turned out I did have the heart and moral to not see a animal suffer before my eyes.
I didn't get much sleep that night constructing my wheelchair.
Oh well, the two men didn't bother looking for me.
"Wilbert, you can leave now," I said, halfway out of the hammock.
Wilbert stood at the doorway with his fists on the ground.
"Wilbert, I can't sleep with someone staring at me," I said.
I heard Wilbert turn around.
Of course, I had finally fallen asleep when the sun started rising. Last night was pretty long trying to construct a wheelchair. The path to the construction area is well smooth for some-one to walk along. My resting time was rather short as I woke up at seven when the day had become fresh and new again. I felt generally wide awake. I fell off the hammock landing on the ground instead of walking. I really have to get out of the habit. A habit that I have been falling for 33 years and counting. Those 33 years still count to me, Trelane! The lost years of my life that only I remember.
I get into a wheelchair.
My stomach grumbled.
"Oh right," I said, clutching my stomach. "At this era, it will take one hundred years for them to get the right technology."
But then I would be dead and so would the two officers.
Three birds killed with a stone; how sad.
Picard could take care of himself with a much younger fellow with him. Sometimes being the one who knows everything can be a real headache, at least everything that happened before being exiled and knowing everyone's future beforehand could have been wiped! It would have been a gratitude if they removed that knowledge. I know how to make a space ship, a boat, a bicycle, and a motorcycle! My knowledge is infinite! Perhaps the continuum wanted to see the intelligence rot, I thought munching on a orange.
Wilbert can't speak, because he is an animal and this isn't a Disney movie.
Figuring out what happens in this timeline features taking reasonable deduction.
The continuum gets so easily bored that watching a former Q suffering is entertaining, and needless to say I am not part of that crowd. I prefer to be teaching lessons rather than that. I would never steep so low as to them. As delicious as eating a orange is people have to make sure they don't get their shirts wet as do former Q. Preventing any water from dripping on my shirt has, in its own little way, become a art. I hold the orange up above a bowl then eat it after the shell has been peeled off.
It works, either way.
The currency for Scottyia is silver.
Thankfully there is silver deposits set alongside the temple in the shape of coins. I figure by now the two men are butting heads; likely jumping to the conclusion it will take the power of their communicators and vaporizers. Sadly to say that might not be the case but it will get their hopes up. If they do succeed; they can always get me later. Later as in what remains of my body. I really don't care what they try to do. Trelane is likely not to show up until some time later, considerably.
At this time on Scottyia the native attire is usually a shirt and pants for men while women wear dresses. Some (Such as modern day humans) may call that sexist but that is just their way of life back in the day and most people was happy about it until 2,000 years later when their society started transitioning to what I saw in 2265. I knew the way to the town square where the selling takes place. I had Wilbert stay back in the forest. If Wilbert had gone then the natives would have killed him for his fur and his intimidating appearance. I'll quote every well known Vulcan in the entire universe, "That is quite logical."
Geniuses start with the basics and move on there after help from their creator.
The reason why I know the hard broken path to the town square (Or is it village square? I should ask the geniuses) is because I had visited the planet in my rather dark times. It showed me that perhaps I wasn't just a menace of universal omnipotent being but that of someone who could create. Not just procreate. I can create something beautiful with a remarkable intelligent society that is capable of speaking to me rather frank and understand what I have to say. Now I sound like this entire planet is a delightful reminder of what I do. It gave me hope that one day in my long life I actually will befriend people.
It seems the timeline I shared with Jean Luc Picard has diverged and the last I might see the prime version is on the last day of my exile.
No more going back. That is if the Continuum decides to swoop right in and stop my death at the last second. Would I dare visit this timeline again? Perhaps, I would just for old times sake. Well...I would essentially be visiting the original timeline just a tad bit different. The bamboo wheels rolled against the pebbles. Sometimes a man needs required items to live not just fruit but really clothing. Did I mention getting clothing? I must be getting senile because of human age that Trelane halted. I felt my goatee. Still there, as usual. I felt alongside my face to feel fibers of hair growing along. Did I grow a beard overnight? No, I grew a beard over two years!
I need a good shaving.
I must have a beard like Rikers.
Got to be.
I came to a stop right at a pond,take out a sharpened blade, and shave the beard off except for the goatee. I do like my goatee. It makes me look...Rather...Older...Respectable and just a tad bit more handsome! Of course Data would point out it is just a hair growth that younger women tend to like and Picard would not be amused. Even Riker might be deciding to shave his beard off at that comment.
I resumed my way to the center of the lively city.
Oh, I really do wonder what Picard and Conjuctor are up to.