A Time to Die

by John Vornholt

  Moving like a Traveler was starting to come hard for Wes again, as it had when he feared he was losing the support of his fellowship. There was only one more jump he had to make—into the silver-blue jewel that was blossoming to match the immense size of the Enterprise. Gradually its rough edges became smooth to approximate the graceful lines of the starship. Please include the autodestruct sequence, he begged the powers of the universe. If it didn’t, his job would be twice as hard.

  From his vantage point in space, the Traveler marveled at the transformation of an elemental force into one of metal, bolts, and resin. Colleen had been right—the dreaded demon flyer was truly one of the wonders of the galaxy. If they could have captured it, it would have been a prize unique in the quadrant, one that might open up new doors of understanding, even to the Travelers. But somehow he didn’t think it would survive in captivity, nor would any cage hold it.

  I’m sorry I have to kill you.

  Wesley checked the chronograph on his wrist, seeing that he had three minutes left before the countdown ended. The mimic ship might not have every bulkhead and conduit of the Enterprise down to perfection by then, but it would be very close. The Traveler closed his eyes, trying to envision himself inside the glistening duplicate that was molding itself before his eyes.

  Moving toward it was like swimming through quicksand. He feared that he couldn’t penetrate the hull of the anomaly. One more time, he told himself. Let me focus the lens one more time.

  With an effort that left him exhausted, the Traveler sprawled onto the bridge of what might have been the Enterprise, except that parts of it were liquid, like paint. The deck solidified around him, and he staggered to his feet, feeling nauseated.

  To his great relief, a voice echoed in the emptiness: “Two minutes forty-eight seconds, two minutes forty-seven seconds.”

  The countdown was still on. First he had to make sure it didn’t destroy the real Enterprise. Wes staggered to the closest console, dropped into the seat, then tried to bring up the weapons systems on the computer. The readouts behaved as he expected, but he was shocked to see that phasers were charging for a full burst. He quickly took them offline and switched to readings from engineering. As expected, the antimatter storage pods, the reactor, and every conduit were rapidly filling with antimatter. Wes caught his breath, because he knew this was the stage where some of the prey ships exploded just from the unexpected stress.

  But there was no battle going on, there were no stray plasma bursts, so Wes hoped the real Enterprise would remain intact through this ordeal. Behind him, a voice announced, “One minute fifty-nine seconds.” He cranked up the plasma-injection system, flooding the reactor, which was already filled with antimatter. Now an overload was bound to happen to this counterfeit starship, self-destruct sequence or no.

  Wes felt a horrible pain in his stomach. He groaned and doubled over. He knew he had to get off the mimic ship immediately, or he might pass out. The Traveler had done everything he could. The demon flyer was clearly not geared to combat anyone who could survive its initial assault and proceed to board her. To the naked eye, this was the Enterprise, but it felt all wrong to his body.

  He tried to focus—to will himself into space—but he couldn’t even get a clear sense of what it would be like to float in the void. It was as if he once knew a foreign language but had somehow forgotten it…in the blink of an eye! He staggered across the deck, barely getting his legs to carry his body, which seemed to have the mass of a small moon. I’m going to die. I’m no longer a Traveler.

  “Fifty-nine seconds,” intoned the computer.

  “Computer,” he grunted, “automate operations in transporter room one. Direct-beam me to transporter room one.”

  “Fifty-two seconds,” said the computer, ignoring him.

  With survival instincts taking over, Wes lunged to his feet and bolted to the turbolift, hoping against hope that it would operate as expected. The door at least slid open. He tottered inside. Wes gave a wretched dry heave and collapsed to the floor, summoning just enough strength to say, “Transporter room one.”

  “Acknowledged. Autodestruct in forty-five seconds. All personnel are advised to leave the ship.”

  “I’m trying,” he groaned, feeling as if his insides were about to rip open.

  By the time the door opened and he stumbled into the corridor, klaxons were blaring and emergency lights were flashing throughout the ship. “Autodestruct in thirty seconds,” reported the computer. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight.”

  Everything around him was surreal, nightmarish, and he wondered whether the corridor was actually glowing and writhing or whether his condition had brought on hallucinations. Wesley beat upon every door as he lunged down the hall, finally discovering the double doors for the transporter room, which slid open.

  “Twenty-two seconds, twenty-one seconds,” intoned the computer over the blaring klaxons.

  Despite a feverish headache, Wes rushed to the transporter console and tried to remember the coordinates of the Orion salvage ship. He couldn’t recall, but the duplicate still had operating sensors. A quick scan of the area located the closest vessel—the Enterprise floating dead in space.

  “Autodestruct sequence in progress,” said the computer. “Abort now impossible. Five seconds, four seconds—”

  Every muscle in his body seemed to contract as he shuffled to the transporter platform and hurled himself upon a pad. Mercifully, he felt the familiar tingle of the beam as it spirited him away from the doomed demon ship.

  Now Wes floated helplessly on a darkened bridge, his gut still tied in knots. Twisting around, he caught sight of the other Enterprise through a small port to the left of the dark viewscreen. It looked like a toy vessel floating upon the black water. As he reached for it, the starship detonated in a monstrous fireball, spewing glittering rubble into the far corners of his vision. This sparkling mass met the cloud of hydrogen he had released minutes ago. The starscape turned into bright daylight for a few seconds, and finally the flashes and pops died down.

  With a start, Wesley realized this was the scene he had witnessed in the Pool of Prophecy after being born as a Traveler. All of that was over now…all of it, especially being a Traveler. Wes believed he saw an Ontailian ship cruise past the viewport, but he passed out before he could confirm it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  WESLEY CRUSHER STIRRED from what seemed like the deepest sleep of his life, and found that his joints were all sore, along with his back. He also noticed an intravenous tube in his arm, feeding him nutrients. He looked around, and there was his mother, striding toward him with a big grin on her face.

  “Ah,” she said with satisfaction, “I thought you would wake up today.” The doctor peered with interest at the readouts on the screen over his bed.

  “Today?” he asked with confusion. “How long have I been out?”

  “Almost three days,” she answered, fondly brushing the hair off his forehead. “You almost died, Wesley. Neptunium and gamma poisoning. I don’t think anyone else could have survived inside the mimic ship. You’ll be weak for several more days.”

  “Was it destroyed?” he asked hopefully.

  “Yes. You did it.”

  He closed his eyes and slumped back in his bed. “I lost my powers, Mom. I’m not a Traveler anymore.”

  “Maybe that will keep you home and out of trouble. I have to notify the captain—he wants to see you. I’ll be right back.”

  The young man drifted in and out of sleep for a while, until he heard voices. He opened his eyes to see Picard, Riker, Troi, and La Forge, all beaming at him. His mother bustled around the room, checking machines and his intravenous tubes.

  “Well done, Mr. Crusher,” said Picard with pride. “Data and the rest of the crew all wanted to see you, but they’ll have to visit in shifts. Your mother says we almost lost you, which would have been very unjust, after everything you did for us and the Ontailians.”

  “The Ontailians aren’t mad at us anymore?
” asked Wes.

  “No, just the opposite,” answered the captain. “The Ontailians were a big help getting the Enterprise operational again. They replenished our antimatter, and supplied spare parts and technical support. It’s not official, but they told us they would stay in the Federation and allow Starfleet back into Rashanar. Of course, there’s nothing for them to be secretive about anymore. I believe they had a love-hate relationship with the demon ship. They had appeased it as best they could for five hundred years.”

  “Does that mean your name is cleared?” asked Wes.

  Picard sighed. “Not exactly. Oh, Nechayev and Ross know what we’ve done, but the case won’t be reopened. We can’t revisit it, because we might have to find the Ontailians culpable for the destruction of the Juno. They don’t want to go into the whole matter of the demon ship. Things happened with the scavengers that none of us are anxious to discuss. The Ontailians are quite embarrassed and grateful. It’s more important that we keep them in the Federation fold than saddle them with blame. Think of all the reports we won’t have to write.”

  “It’s still not right,” muttered La Forge. “And Data still doesn’t have his emotion chip. They say they need to give it more testing.”

  Picard raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “We knew the ground rules going into this mission. It was undercover and unofficial. Whether we were successful or not, there would be no exoneration and no public record. Let’s be thankful we were so successful. We made Rashanar a much safer place than it was before. The Enterprise will just have to erase this black spot on our record by our future actions.”

  “But Jean-Luc will be captain of the Enterprise again,” added Beverly. “As soon as we get back, it will become official. Also there will be a memorial service for Colleen Cabot. I’ll present her parents with a commendation from Starfleet Medical.”

  “Remarkably,” added Riker, “Cabot was the only crew member we lost on this mission, although it took us a day to round up everyone who evacuated the ship.” He lowered his head. “We’re all really sorry for your loss, Wes. She was something else.”

  Wes nodded his thanks.

  “But we’re glad to have you back,” said Troi, patting him on the shoulder. “When you’re stronger, we should get together and talk about everything that’s happened to you.”

  “All right, Counselor,” agreed Wesley. He didn’t know how much good talking would do, but he knew he had issues that had to be discussed.

  “What was it like over there?” asked La Forge. “On the mimic ship.”

  Wes shook his head, thinking that those three minutes were a blur, like an old dream one can’t recall clearly. “I was in pain most of the time,” he admitted, “but it was the Enterprise. You know, I had a feeling it was ready to die…that it knew it had outlived its purpose.”

  “That’s enough conversation for now,” insisted his protective mother. “We’ll be home tomorrow, and you can entertain visitors all day long.”

  “You get well,” said Riker as Beverly ushered them toward the door.

  “I’m glad to be back,” called Wesley weakly. “With my friends.”

  When sickbay was again quiet, his mother returned to check his vital signs one last time. “You’re lucky you’re young,” she said finally. “Or that would have been your last mission.”

  “It may be my last one, anyway,” Wes murmured to himself, feeling very drowsy. A moment later, he was asleep.

  As they strolled out of the chapel on the grounds of Starfleet Academy, both Wes and Beverly were still wiping their eyes. It had been a very beautiful service for Colleen Cabot. The usually stoic Admiral Nakamura had broken into tears during his eulogy. Nobody could quite explain how Colleen had died on a routine training mission, but her family wasn’t asking embarrassing questions. The outpouring of affection and respect for the counselor had impressed everybody. Many had stayed behind to share anecdotes about her.

  Even so, Wes hadn’t wanted to engage in small talk about Colleen. He was content to stroll through the lush gardens of Starfleet Academy with his mother, saying very little. It was a gorgeous sunny afternoon, with birds chirping in the trees; the breeze rustled through the flowers, carrying their delicious scents across the walkway. Wes felt recovered physically, but he felt enormous emptiness. He had lost a great love, plus the life to which he had devoted himself for the last several years. The young man had no idea how he could replace either one.

  As they passed a bench, he asked, “Can we sit for a moment, Mom?”

  “Sure.”

  Wes watched a bee toiling tirelessly among the blossoms. So far he had avoided all questions on the topic of “What will you do now?” but he realized that he would have to answer that question sooner or later. He could sense his mom wanting to ask, but resisting the impulse. She had been wonderfully understanding about everything. It was then that he realized how lucky he was to have this dynamic woman as his mother. The way everyone treated her, it was clear that Dr. Crusher would someday be running Starfleet Medical again. Maybe that was the question that preoccupied her as she sat silently beside him on the bench.

  “You’re looking fit,” said a male voice, breaking into their quiet reverie.

  Wes looked up and was dumbfounded. There stood his old comrade, the Traveler, smiling beneficently at him. His mother stiffened her back, as if she wouldn’t let this interloper take away her son again.

  The young man rose hesitantly to his feet. “I…I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

  “You almost didn’t,” answered the Traveler. “Your mother had to work hard to save you.”

  “And I’m going to work hard to keep him,” she vowed.

  “I don’t need him for long,” answered the Traveler, growing serious, “but I do need him to go with me.”

  Wes shook his head in confusion. “But you revoked my powers.”

  “I haven’t got time to go into that now,” said the Traveler. “Let’s just say you passed your final test.”

  Wesley turned to his mother and took her hands in his. “I have to go with him,” he said. “I can’t give this up when there’s still so much I don’t understand. But I promise that I’ll visit you often, wherever you are. I won’t forget my friends in Starfleet.”

  Tears welled in Beverly’s eyes, but she managed a pained smile. “Just take time to have children someday, so that you’ll know how awful it is when they leave. At least now we know you can fall in love. That still makes you human.”

  Before he could change his mind, Wes gave his mom a quick hug, then grabbed the Traveler’s arm. As they strolled down the sidewalk, the flowers and trees faded to blackness sprinkled with distant stars, and the Travelers eased gently through space.

  “There’s someone I would like to bring into the fellowship,” Wes said excitedly. “He’s not humanoid—he’s a Medusan—but I know he would make a great Traveler.”

  “Your first apprentice would have to be unusual,” replied his comrade pleasantly. “Commodore Korgan will be welcome. And I must say, it is good to see you again, Traveler.”

  About the Author

  John Vornholt is the acclaimed author of numerous Star Trek® novels, including Genesis Force, The Genesis Wave Books One through Three, Gemworld Books One and Two, Sanctuary, Mind Meld, Masks, Contamination, Antimatter, Rogue Saucer, and The Dominion War Books One and Three. He lives in Arizona with his wife and two sons.