TAXIARCHY

 

I am Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. 

Surrender now, and we can avoid bloodshed.

So Infernally Touchy....

In times of spiritual trial, Oppenheimer would search the Bhagavad-Gita, a sacred Hindu text, for meaning and comfort. 

He often turned to the story of the warrior Prince Arjuna, who to fulfill his destiny must Fight and Kill.

“In battle, in forest, at the precipice in the mountains,

On a dark great sea, in the midst of javelins and arrows,

In sleep, in confusion, in the depths of shame,

The good deeds a man has done before defend him.”

(The tunnel seals behind them.)

ACE: 

Doctor?

DOCTOR: 

Don't worry, Ace. 

It's only a trap.

[Clearing]

(The Brigadier and Lavel run from the helicopter, which then explodes.)

BRIGADIER: 

Five million pounds worth of aircraft, and we've lost it.

LAVEL: 

They’ll make us pay for that

BRIGADIER: 

We'll be poor for the rest of our lives.

(Lavel's leg hurts.)

BRIGADIER: 

Pulled a ligament?

LAVEL: 

Oh good. I thought it might be something serious.

BRIGADIER: 

I'll see if I can get some help from the village.

LAVEL: 

But sir, we don't know what the situation is here.

BRIGADIER: 

The situation, Lavel, is normal. 

And it doesn't get much worse than that. 

You know, I think I'm rather enjoying this.

(The Brigadier takes his service revolver from its holster and heads off.)

[Churchyard]

(Mordred is reading the names on the war memorial.)

MORDRED: 

‘Tis a shrine to those fallen in battle.

MORGAINE: 

So, they are not the savages you led us to believe. 

You fought on their soil without proper respect for the dead.

MORDRED: 

Mother, I —

MORGAINE: 

You have dishonoured us, Mordred. 

What is victory without honour? Leave us!

(Mordred walks through two lines of knights. The Brigadier walks up the road by the church.)

MORGAINE: 

What manner of man are you?

(Morgaine and the Brigadier meet at the church gate. The Brigadier points his revolver at her.)

MORGAINE: 

A Warrior, no less. 

How goes the day?

BRIGADIER: 

I've had better.

MORGAINE: 

I am Morgaine, The Sun Killer. Dominator of the thirteen worlds 

and 

Battle Queen of the S'Rax. 

What say you?

BRIGADIER: 

I am Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. 

Surrender now, and we can avoid bloodshed.

*****

BRIGADIER: 

Let me see if I've understood you correctly. 

You are holding a Remembrance ceremony for the dead of our World Wars, a ceasefire, to remain in force for the duration of said ceremony, right?

MORGAINE: 

Your words are strange, 

but that is the meaning, yes.

BRIGADIER: 

Right. What must I do?

MORGAINE: 

I wish you to know that I bear you no malice.

BRIGADIER: 

I understand.

MORGAINE: 

But when we meet again, 

I shall kill you. 

Morte D'Arthur

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

So all day long the noise of battle rolled

Among the mountains by the winter sea;

Until King Arthur's table, man by man,

Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord,

King Arthur: then, because his wound was deep,

The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,

Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,

And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,

A broken chancel with a broken cross,

That stood on a dark strait of barren land.

On one side lay the Ocean, and on one

Lay a great water, and the moon was full.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:

"The sequel of today unsolders all

The goodliest fellowship of famous knights

Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep

They sleep -the men I loved. I think that we

Shall never more, at any future time,

Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,

Walking about the gardens and the halls

Of Camelot, as in the days that were.

I perish by this people which I made, -

Though Merlin sware that I should come again

To rule once more -but let what will be, be,

I am so deeply smitten through the helm

That without help I cannot last till morn.

Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,

Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how

In those old days, one summer noon, and arm

Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,

Holding the sword -and how I rowed across

And took it, and have worn it, like a king:

And, wheresoever I am sung or told

In aftertime, this also shall be known:

But now delay not: take Excalibur,

And fling him far into the middle mere:

Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word."

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere:

"It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus,

Aidless, alone, and smitten through the helm.

A little thing may harm a wounded man.

Yet I thy hest will all perform at full,

Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word."

So saying, from the ruined shrine he stepped

And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,

Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,

Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang

Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down

By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock,

Came on the shining levels of the lake.

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,

And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon,

Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth

And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt:

For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks,

Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work

Of subtlest jewellery. He gazed so long

That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood,

This way and that dividing the swift mind,

In act to throw: but at the last it seemed

Better to leave Excalibur concealed

There in the many-knotted waterflags,

That whistled stiff and dry about the marge.

So strode he back slow to the wounded King.

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere:

"Hast thou performed my mission which I gave?

What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:

"I heard the ripple washing in the reeds,

And the wild water lapping on the crag."

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale:

"Thou hast betrayed thy nature and thy name,

Not rendering true answer, as beseemed

Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight:

For surer sign had followed, either hand,

Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.

This is a shameful thing for men to lie.

Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again

As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing

I bad thee, watch, and lightly bring me word."

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time

Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere,

Counting the dewy pebbles, fixed in thought;

But when he saw the wonder of the hilt,

How curiously and strangely chased, he smote

His palms together, and he cried aloud,

"And if indeed I cast the brand away,

Surely a precious thing, one worthy note,

Should thus be lost for ever from the earth,

Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.

What good should follow this, if this were done?

What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey,

Seeing obedience is the bond of rule.

Were it well to obey then, if a king demand

An act unprofitable, against himself?

The King is sick, and knows not what he does.

What record, or what relic of my lord

Should be to aftertime, but empty breath

And rumours of a doubt? but were this kept,

Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings,

Some one might show it at a joust of arms,

Saying, `King Arthur's sword, Excalibur,

Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake.

Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps

Upon the hidden bases of the hills.'

So might some old man speak in the aftertime

To all the people, winning reverence.

But now much honour and much fame were lost."

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit,

And hid Excalibur the second time,

And so strode back slow to the wounded King.

Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily:

"What is it thou hast seen? or what hast heard?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:

"I heard the water lapping on the crag,

And the long ripple washing in the reeds."

To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath:

"Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue,

Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me!

Authority forgets a dying king,

Laid widowed of the power in his eye

That bowed the will. I see thee what thou art,

For thou, the latest-left of all my knights,

In whom should meet the offices of all,

Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt;

Either from lust of gold, or like a girl

Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.

Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice,

And the third time may prosper, get thee hence:

But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,

I will arise and slay thee with my hands."

Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran,

And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged

Among the bulrush-beds, and clutched the sword,

And strongly wheeled and threw it. The great brand

Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon,

And flashing round and round, and whirled in an arch,

Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,

Seen where the moving isles of winter shock

By night, with noises of the northern sea.

So flashed and fell the brand Excalibur:

But ere he dipped the surface, rose and arm

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,

And caught him by the hilt, and brandished him

Three times, and drew him under in the mere.

And lightly went the other to the King.

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath:

"Now see I by thine eyes that this is done.

Speak out: what is it thou hast heard, or seen?"

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere:

"Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems

Should blind my purpose, for I never saw,

Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die,

Not though I live three lives of mortal men,

So great a miracle as yonder hilt.

Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him;

But when I looked again, behold an arm,

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,

That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him

Three times, and drew him under in the mere."

And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard:

"My end draws nigh; 'tis time that I were gone.

Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight,

And bear me to the margin; yet I fear

My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die."

So saying, from the pavement he half rose,

Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm,

And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes

As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere

Remorsefully regarded through his tears,

And would have spoken, but he found not words,

Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee,

O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands,

And rising bore him through the place of tombs.

But, as he walked, King Arthur panted hard,

Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed

When all the house is mute. So sighed the King,

Muttering and murmuring at his ear, "Quick, quick!

I fear it is too late, and I shall die."

But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,

Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walked,

Larger than human on the frozen hills.

He heard the deep behind him, and a cry

Before. His own thought drove him, like a goad.

Dry clashed his harness in the icy caves

And barren chasms, and all to left and right

The bare black cliff clanged round him, as he based

His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang

Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels -

And on a sudden, lo! the level lake,

And the long glories of the winter moon.

Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge,

Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern,

Beneath them; and descending they were ware

That all the decks were dense with stately forms

Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream -by these

Three Queens with crowns of gold -and from them rose

A cry that shivered to the tingling stars,

And, as it were one voice, an agony

Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills

All night in a waste land, where no one comes,

Or hath come, since the making of the world.

Then murmured Arthur, "Place me in the barge,"

And to the barge they came. There those three Queens

Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept.

But she, that rose the tallest of them all

And fairest, laid his head upon her lap,

And loosed the shattered casque, and chafed his hands,

And called him by his name, complaining loud,

And dropping bitter tears against his brow

Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white

And colourless, and like the withered moon

Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east;

And all his greaves and cuisses dashed with drops

Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls -

That made his forehead like a rising sun

High from the dais-throne -were parched with dust;

Or, clotted into points and hanging loose,

Mixed with the knightly growth that fringed his lips.

So like a shattered column lay the King;

Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,

From spur to plume a star of tournament,

Shot through the lists at Camelot, and charged

Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere,

"Ah! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?

Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?

For now I see the true old times are dead,

When every morning brought a noble chance,

And every chance brought out a noble knight.

Such times have been not since the light that led

The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.

But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved

Which was an image of the mighty world;

And I, the last, go forth companionless,

And the days darken round me, and the years,

Among new men, strange faces, other minds."

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:

"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,

And God fulfills Himself in many ways,

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

I have lived my life, and that which I have done

May He within Himself make pure! but thou,

If thou shouldst never see my face again,

Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer

Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice

Rise like a fountain for me night and day.

For what are men better than sheep or goats

That nourish a blind life within the brain,

If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer

Both for themselves and those who call them friend?

For so the whole round earth is every way

Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.

But now farewell. I am going a long way

With these thou seest -if indeed I go -

(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)

To the island-valley of Avilion;

Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,

Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies

Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns

And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,

Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail

Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,

Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood

With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere

Revolving many memories, till the hull

Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn,

And on the mere the wailing died away.

[DOOR CHIMES.]

Come.

Jean-Luc.

Kirsten.

Hello.

May I? 

Apparently, you have urgent Federation business.

I understood you to have left affairs of state behind.

I am staying as far from it all as I can.

So then what can I do for you? - Bruce Maddox.

- What about him? I believe that he is using neurons from the late Commander Data to create a new organic synthetic.

Well, that's not far from all of it, it is all of it.

The Romulans are involved.

This gets better and better.

Commander Data was not only my colleague, he was my dear friend, and he gave his life, body and soul, to the Federation.

And if there is a chance that some part of him still exists, then I think we have an obligation to investigate.

There is no "we", Jean-Luc.

Kirsten, I know we have not always seen eye to eye.

Nevertheless, I have a request to make.

Based on my years of service, I want you to reinstate me, temporarily, for one mission.

I will need a small warp-capable reconnaissance ship with a minimal crew, and if you feel that my rank makes me too conspicuous, well, then, I am content to be demoted to Captain.

The sheer fucking hubris.

You think you could just waltz back in here and be entrusted with taking men and women into space? 

Don't you think I was watching the holo the other day along with everyone else in The Galaxy? 

I should not have spoken in public.

The Romulans were our enemies, and we tried to help them for as long as we could, but even before the synthetics attacked Mars, 14 species within the Federation said, 

"Cut the Romulans loose, or we'll pull out".

It was a choice between allowing the Federation to implode or letting the Romulans go.

The Federation does not get to decide if a species lives or dies.

Yes, we do.

We absolutely do.

Thousands of other species depend upon us for unity, for cohesion.

We didn't have enough ships left.

We had to make choices.

But the great Captain Picard didn't like his orders.

I was standing up for the Federation, for what it represents, for what it should still represent.

How dare you lecture me? 

Ignore me again at your cost.

My cost?

You are in peril, Admiral.

There is no peril here, only the pitiable delusions of a once-great man desperate to matter.

This is no longer your house, Jean-Luc.

So do what you're good at: GO HOME

Request denied.