by Dayton Ward
Having remained silent for the past several minutes, the android looked up from the examination of his tricorder. “My configuration of the compression pulse generator is complete. Readings indicate the component to be operating within acceptable parameters.”
“Thanks.” Pausing, La Forge looked up from his work. “I have to tell you, it’s weird to be working with you like this, but it feels right.” He smiled. “I know that sounds silly. I’m sorry.”
Data replied, “I believe I can understand your sentiment. I have also been intrigued by the personal dynamics of our current situation. For example, I could not help noticing that my counterpart is not among your crew.” He looked to Elfiki and Chen. “And I do not recognize either of you.”
“That’s because we were in grade school when you were on the Enterprise-D in our universe,” said Chen.
“Of course. The differences in our respective crews have been the topic of much conversation since our initial meeting.”
Elfiki said, “It’s pretty much the same on our ship.”
La Forge replied, “If we do our jobs right, there’ll be time for all of that later.” Reaching into his satchel, he retrieved another isolinear chip, this one clear blue. He inserted the chip into the reader on his tricorder.
“Okay,” he said after a moment. “Once I slide this in and run through its startup and diagnostic sequence, we should be good to go. Instead of generating a dissonant pulse at random, the compression pulse generator should be able to scan the quantum field and produce an appropriate feedback frequency, and at the level needed to overcome the existing quantum fluctuations.”
Elfiki added, “That should be enough to trigger a deactivation of the existing quantum field, and bring the entire generator and power complex back into phase. Then Nelidar and her people can hopefully regain control of the generator.”
“And after that,” La Forge said, “we figure out how to send everybody back where they belong.”
Chen rubbed her temples. “Just another day at the office, right?”
“Commander La Forge.”
The new voice and the sound of footfalls on the metal flooring made the team turn to see Taurik and Nelidar entering the room from the underground complex’s central passageway. Even with his Vulcan composure, it was obvious to Chen that he was concerned about something, and that worry was reflected on Nelidar’s features.
“What is it, Taurik?” asked the chief engineer.
“The quantum field is showing an increase. Slow, but steady.”
Nelidar added, “By all indications, we are approaching another transition, which is not unusual. I have verified against our logs that we have now passed the minimum amount of time that Ushalon has spent in any one dimension since all of this began, so a shift is expected. However, the energy readings are erratic. Perhaps it is a consequence of the explosive’s effect on the quantum field.”
“But there’s no way to be sure when the shift will happen?” asked Elfiki.
“I am afraid not,” replied the Sidrac engineer.
Taurik said, “There is another matter. I have been running computer simulations on the impact of the subspace compression pulse on the quantum field. Based on my calculations, there is an eighty-three point six percent chance that our attempt to disperse the quantum field will have an adverse effect on the complex’s fusion reactor.”
“The reactor was designed to operate autonomously for at least twenty solar cycles before requiring any sort of maintenance,” said Nelidar.
“But the continued generation of the quantum field has accelerated its decay.” Taurik held up his tricorder. “Given that the transphasic weapon will push back against the field via subspace, there exists the possibility that feedback from the pulse will hasten the reactor’s deterioration to the point where it will no longer be able to power this facility.”
Reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose, La Forge grunted in exasperation. “Well, that certainly changes things.”
Chen exchanged glances with Elfiki. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?”
“If the generator can’t produce a new quantum field,” said the science officer, “then it can’t push this planet out of this dimension.”
Data said, “It, along with our Enterprise and the Romulan vessels, would be trapped here.”
23
U.S.S. Enterprise-D
It was like stepping back through time.
The consoles, the sounds, the uniforms, and even the carpeting that he had hated the first time he saw it all those years ago triggered a torrent of memories as Jean-Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher stepped from the turbolift and onto the bridge.
“Oh, my.”
Materializing in the transporter room, along with every step along the corridors and even the ride up in the turbolift, had stirred thoughts and feelings he had not considered for years. The sense of nostalgia—and loss—that washed over him was reflected on the familiar faces staring back at him.
“Captain on the bridge,” said a familiar voice, and Picard steeled himself as he beheld Natasha Yar. This version was a few years older than she had been the last time he saw her. Though she appeared not to have aged, there was a wisdom in her eyes that had not yet formed in the Tasha Yar he remembered. Cruel fate had seen fit to rob her of the opportunity for the life and experiences that would have given Tasha whatever perspective she now carried within her. He also saw that her own emotions were conflicted in the face of this unlikely meeting.
“Lieutenant,” he said, stepping toward her and extending his hand. “It’s good to see you.”
Taking his hand in both of hers, Yar nodded. “It’s good to see you too, sir.” Her voice trembled, and she reached up to wipe a single tear. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn’t think I’d . . . I didn’t . . .”
“It’s quite all right, my dear.” Picard squeezed her hand. There was so much he wanted to say. How much was appropriate? From Riker, he had learned the fate of his own counterpart, and that emotional wounds were still fresh. It was a foregone conclusion that the crew of this Enterprise, and the senior officers in particular—men and women with whom he had forged a unique kinship, or might have done so in the years that lay ahead of them—had countless questions. He shared their curiosity, and it was a struggle to remind himself that other priorities demanded his attention.
Then why come here at all?
He had asked that question of himself at least a dozen times since accepting Captain Riker’s invitation. Both captains had agreed that having anyone from the Enterprise-D visit its more advanced counterpart—and successor, assuming events in their dimension played out in similar fashion—was not a sound idea. While absolutely avoiding violations of Starfleet’s Temporal Prime Directive was impractical if not impossible under the current circumstances, Picard and Riker had concurred that minimizing such instances was in the interests of both crews. With that in mind and setting all other considerations aside, Picard knew this visit was personal indulgence. That was even more the case with Beverly, who had admitted to her one purpose for accompanying him.
Now that he was here, Picard realized the feelings he was experiencing seemed to run even deeper than when after many years he had walked onto the wrecked bridge of his first command, the U.S.S. Stargazer, which had been believed destroyed decades earlier. Picard found the disparity in his emotional reactions interesting, considering the Stargazer had been a relic, a representation of a starship class long since resigned to obsolescence. On the other hand, he had traveled aboard other Galaxy-class vessels more than once in the years following the Enterprise-D’s demise, and in many regards those ships were identical to the one he once had commanded.
But they weren’t yours.
As Crusher moved to embrace Yar, Picard turned toward Lieutenant Worf, who had risen from the ops station and now stood before the captain’s chair, looking
up at him. The Klingon offered a single, formal nod.
“Captain. It is good to see you again, sir.”
“Mister Worf,” said Picard. “The pleasure is mine, Lieutenant.”
The emotions threatened to reach a fever pitch as Picard and Crusher descended the ramp to the bridge’s command area. Waiting for them were Will Riker, Deanna Troi, Geordi La Forge, Doctor Katherine Pulaski, and Wesley Crusher. Eschewing any sense of protocol, Beverly stepped toward her son and pulled him into her arms.
“I don’t mind saying this is a little weird, Mom.”
“You need to call more.”
“How do you know I don’t?”
“Because I’m your mother, no matter what dimension we’re in.”
Their comments were enough to defuse the tension, eliciting several smiles and laughs from the group as handshakes and hugs were exchanged.
Unable to resist a remark as he took in the sight of Riker and Troi standing together, Picard offered a wry grin. “I always had a feeling about you two.”
Nodding toward Crusher, Troi replied, “Same here.”
“I must admit that this does feel awkward,” said Picard. “I did debate whether to beam over.” He grimaced. “It felt . . . inappropriate, somehow.”
“We’re glad you did,” replied Pulaski. “You’ve been missed, Captain.” She looked to Doctor Crusher. “Both of you have.”
Riker said, “Livingston is still in the ready room, if you want to take him with you.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what to do with him, and he wasn’t bothering anyone.”
“I think the fish I have might take issue with a roommate.” Picard said. It had been some time since he had thought of the lionfish, which in this dimension had succumbed to age some years ago. Its successor now lived in a much larger aquarium in his ready room aboard the Enterprise-E.
The odd memory did give way to one of Picard’s overriding thoughts since first laying eyes on this version of the Enterprise-D. This starship and the people aboard shared far more similarities than differences with the ship he once had commanded. There were numerous minor divergences, such as with instrumentation and layout, or the captain’s chair being on a small dais that elevated it slightly from the two seats flanking it, and other subtle deviations with respect to workstations. When it came to the people, the parallels were much stronger. Aside from variations in hairstyles or wardrobe, these could be the same people with whom he had served all those years ago.
Riker said, “I’m sure that someone, somewhere, in some dimension will be upset when they find out about this, but they’re going to have to get over it.”
“I just don’t want to be anywhere near whichever admiral ends up reading about all of this,” said La Forge. “In any dimension.”
“That makes two of us.” Picard would file his report, and whatever happened after that would be up to people who were not there, with him and his crew, facing the vast unknown and the risks and dangers that sometimes accompanied it. For now, he had larger problems.
“I wish we could spend more time together,” he said, “but we all know there are more immediate concerns, and a great many people, on our respective ships and on the planet below, will be affected by what we do or fail to do. Even the Romulans stand to be impacted by our actions. Our responsibility is great, but I trust we can answer the challenge put to us, just as we have so many times before.”
He realized as he spoke the words how easily he had slipped into the role of being captain over these people—this version of these people. The differences in time and dimension did not matter. These were still men and women whom he had come to trust, and who likewise had put their faith in him. No measure of distance, either across space or time, could ever erode that bond.
“Perhaps when the current issues are resolved, and we’ve found a way to help the Sidrac, there will be time for us to indulge the personal aspects of this rather unique situation in which we’ve found ourselves.”
Pulaski said, “We could probably spend the next six months just talking and learning about the other side.” Reaching out, she placed a hand on Crusher’s arm. “Where have you been? What have you seen? Who have you met?” She smiled. “I know you can’t answer any of those questions, or at least you shouldn’t, but the thought is exciting.”
“Even though you’re only twenty years or so ahead of us,” said La Forge, “it’s obvious you’ve made some huge technological advances. What I wouldn’t give to crawl around inside your Enterprise.”
The temptation to tell them what they might expect in the years ahead was all but overwhelming, but Picard checked himself. After all, this Enterprise might not even find itself in situations identical or even similar to what he and his crew had encountered over the course of their missions together. Indeed, what wonders might they soon discover that had eluded Picard all these years?
“Captain Riker,” said Lieutenant Yar. “I’m receiving a message from the Enterprise-E. The away team is asking to speak to you and Captain Picard, sir.”
“We’ll take it in the observation lounge.”
Riker indicated for La Forge and Wesley to follow him, and they along with Picard and Doctor Crusher removed themselves to the main observation lounge behind the bridge. Once there, Picard saw that his Geordi La Forge along with Worf, Taurik, and Data were already waiting for them on the room’s main viewscreen.
“Mister Worf?” prompted Picard.
On the screen, his first officer replied, “We have encountered another potential problem, Captain.” Worf stood silent as La Forge and Taurik explained the new issues surrounding the Sidrac’s power plant and the quantum-field generator. Though Picard understood a great deal of the Vulcan engineer’s detailed recounting, some of the technical aspects were beyond him.
“Why not just let the shift happen?” asked Wesley. “Our Enterprise and the Romulans were brought here, so it makes sense that we could ride the wave—or whatever—and shift again, right?”
“It would not help the Sidrac,” said Data. “None of the beacons are in their own dimension, which is why the planet has never returned there throughout this entire affair.”
The Enterprise-E’s La Forge added, “The only way they’ve got a shot at getting home is by regaining control of the generator.”
Now the pieces were falling into place. Picard said, “And the only way to do that is with the torpedo, which we now think might actually make things worse.” He grimaced. “Well, that does seem to present a complication.”
“What about the reactor?” asked Doctor Crusher. “Is there a way for us to repair it, or refuel it, or something?”
“Nothing we have would provide sufficient power for a long enough duration,” replied the younger La Forge.
“The decay would continue once a new quantum field was enabled and the planet began shifting again,” added Taurik. “And once they leave our dimension, we would be unable to assist them.”
Picard asked, “How much time would the Sidrac have before the reactor was exhausted?”
“There’s no way to know that for sure, sir,” replied his La Forge. “Hours, probably less. So, even if our transphasic pulse works and the Sidrac are able to regain control of the field generator, they’ll have to initiate at least three dimensional shifts in order to get everybody back where they belong.”
Taurik said, “Fortunately, we know the destinations for the Enterprise-D, the Romulans, and even the planet itself. Each party’s unique quantum signature will allow the Sidrac engineers to program their systems to generate new quantum fields at the proper frequency and initiate the transition with little time needed for preparation.”
“The only variable is the energy consumption and the reactor’s rate of decay.” Picard glanced first to Riker’s staff and then his own. “Options?”
Data said, “Perhaps only a limited amount of power is needed.
If we were able to bolster the reactor’s output by interfacing with the distribution network that supplies power to the field generator, that might stabilize it long enough to complete the shifts.”
“But the only thing either of our ships has that can transmit that much power is the main deflector dish,” replied the Enterprise-D’s La Forge. “It wouldn’t require as much as something like the transphasic pulse, and we’d be able to transmit a continuous stream. We’d need to keep it going and that—” Behind his VISOR, the chief engineer’s eyebrows went up. “Oh. Well, that’s not dangerous. At all.”
His counterpart on the viewscreen replied, “At least one of our ships would have to initiate and possibly maintain the connection throughout at least one dimensional shift, perhaps two.”
“Or we stagger it,” countered Wesley. He held up his left hand. “This is the Enterprise-E. It makes the initial connection and stabilizes the power stream for the first shift. The Enterprise-D and the Romulan ships shift with the planet to the Romulans’ dimension.” Holding up his right hand, he continued. “We need the transphasic torpedo to regain control of the quantum-field generator. So we trigger the initial pulse the way we planned. Once that happens, our Enterprise takes over after the first shift, maintaining the power feed long enough to shift to our dimension, then severs the connection just before the planet shifts one last time, hopefully back where it belongs.”
“Such a connection could present issues during a shift if we experienced significant feedback,” said Taurik. “The possibility of overloads would be considerable.”
“Yeah,” said the younger La Forge, “but we’d only have to hold things together for a couple of minutes at most. This could work.” Then he shrugged. “Or we could all die.”
