"Jean-Luc, quickly—there's something over here I want you to see!" Beckoning enthusiastically, Q knelt by a small muddy pond at one end of their ledge. The captain went over to see what Q was looking at.
Together, they peered down into the water. It was murky, almost impenetrable to the naked eye... but free of the algae one might normally see in such a place.
"What am I looking at?" asked Picard finally.
"Looking at?" repeated Q. "Why, mon capitaine, this is you. And may I say you've never looked better."
The captain found himself becoming annoyed. Q was toying with him. He hated that, with a passion.
"Me, Q?"
"I'm serious, Jean-Luc. Well, in a manner of speaking. You see," he said, pointing, "right here, life is about to form on this planet for the very first time. Two proteins are about to combine and form the first amino acid— one of the building blocks of what you laughingly call life."
Despite himself Picard was intrigued. Impossible as it was to see anything, he couldn't help but lean closer to the surface of the pond.
Q turned to him and spoke in his most mysterious, conspiratorial whisper. "Strange, isn't it? Everything you know... your entire civilization... it all begins right here in this little pond of goo. Disgustingly appropriate somehow, isn't it?" He grunted. "Too bad you didn't bring a microscope. This is quite fascinating, don't you think?"
Pointing into the depths of the pond—at something no human could hope to discern, of course—Q provided a blow-by-blow description of the action. "Here they go... the two proteins are moving closer... closer... closer..."
Suddenly, he recoiled, disappointment etched into his features. "Oh, no! Why... nothing happened! Nothing at all!"
Picard stared at him through eyes rubbed raw by primordial pollution. "What do you mean, nothing happened? Don't tell me you stopped it!"
Q looked at him and wagged his finger. "Now, Jean-Luc, we've talked at length about your incessant need to blame me for all your problems. You did this all by your lonesome, I assure you."
The captain frowned. "I did nothing, Q."
Q stood. "Au contraire." He pointed to the sky. "You did that. And that disrupted the beginning of life."
Removing the pair of dice from his pocket, he showed them to Picard. "You see? Snake eyes. You lose."
The captain glanced at the dice. They had turned up snake eyes, all right. But the dice weren't the ultimate arbiter of his fate; they couldn't be.
Despite the omens Q had presented to him, there was still a chance that he would find a way out of this... a way to preserve humanity. He looked up, intending to question Q further…
... and realized he was looking at Deanna Troi instead. By her uniform and her hairstyle, he could tell that he was back in the past.
It was funny how well he was adjusting to his transits through time. The feelings of disorientation were now at a minimum.
Looking around, he saw that he was on the bridge.
O'Brien, Data, Tasha, and Worf were at their usual stations.
Troi spoke as if she were answering a question he had just posed to her. "Dr. Selar has reported that twenty-three children on board have contracted some kind of illness. She said their tissues appear to be... reverting to some earlier state of development." Oh, no, he thought. Not here, too.
She paused, well aware that he wouldn't like what she had to tell him—not knowing he appreciated the nature of the problem better than she did. "She thinks it's being caused by the anomaly, sir." Picard nodded, then turned to Tasha. "Lieutenant, inform Starfleet Command that we believe the anomaly has toxic effects."
"I already have," she said. A beat. "They've ordered us to withdraw from the Neutral Zone and to escort the pilgrim ships back to Federation territory."
The captain considered the order grimly. "Tell Starfleet we're remaining here," he replied. "However, we'll tell the pilgrim ships to withdraw."
He turned to the android. "Mr. Data, as soon as the tachyon scan is complete, I want you to—"
Tasha interrupted. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, sir."
Picard was surprised. He faced her. "What?" The security chief straightened, her resolve evident in her every feature. "We've received direct orders to leave the Neutral Zone, sir. There are children dying— children we may be able to save if we act now. And our presence here is in direct violation of the Treaty of Algeron."
The captain remained calm, despite the stakes they were playing for. "Are you questioning my orders, Lieutenant?"
Tasha took a breath. "Yes, sir... I am. And unless you take this ship back to Federation territory... I'm prepared to relieve you and take command of this vessel."
Picard hadn't been prepared for that. He looked around and saw that the rest of the bridge crew was watching the confrontation.
Obviously, he told himself, this was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd anticipated.
CHAPTER 21
Picard eyed Tasha. He wanted to tell her that they would grow to know and trust each other. He wanted to say that, one day, she would be willing to lay down her life for him.
But he couldn't. He had to tread a thin line here, and apprising his officers of what was in store for them was outside that line.
For now, all he could do was appeal to his officers' pride and integrity... their sense of justice and discipline. And then hope that that would be enough.
"Lieutenant, you are coming close to mutiny," he warned her. "Dangerously close."
Worf stepped forward. He was younger and more hotheaded than the Worf the captain was now used to.
"It would not be mutiny," the Klingon reminded them, "if the ship's counselor certified you unfit to command."
All eyes fell on Troi. But she didn't react—at least, not yet.
Abruptly, O'Brien stood. "Here, now," he said. "There's no cause for all this. it's not our place to question the captain's orders."
Obviously, Tasha felt otherwise. She looked at the counselor. "Deanna?"
Troi frowned as she felt the burden of her task. It was all up to her now.
She looked at Picard—seeking information not only with her eyes, but with her Betazoid talents. "Captain," she asked, "do you intend to obey the order from Star fleet?"
There were a number of ways he could have handled the situation, a number of ways he could have answered her. But the counselor would detect any attempt at subterfuge.
In the end, he opted for the simple truth. "No," he replied. "I do not."
There were gasps and murmurs all around the bridge. Apparently, his officers hadn't expected to hear him say that.
"I'm sure," he went on, "that makes me sound quite irrational to you all."
"Irrational may not be the correct word," observed Data. "Your course of action so far does not imply a lack of reason, but a lack of explanation. You seem to have a hidden agenda that you are unwilling to share with the rest of us." A beat. "If were to describe you, I would say you are being... surreptitious, secretive, reticent, clandestine—"
Picard cut him off. "Thank you, Commander. I get the point." Nonetheless, he knew that the android had spoken for his crewmates. From their point of view, he was being secretive and surreptitious. It was time to clear the air.
As the captain spoke, he moved around the bridge, addressing every member of the crew with a glance.
After all, if he was going to get them on his side, he had to make them feel like he was one of them.
"So," he said, "you all want an explanation... and I could give you one. I could tell you that an omnipotent being from another space-time continuum has been shifting me through three time periods... that he has threatened the destruction of mankind... and that it is up to me to save humanity. But you would probably call me insane."
"Insane may not be the appropriate term..." Data began.
Troi stilled him with a sharp look. "Please," she told him. "Not now." The android stopped, unoffended. How naive he had been during those earliest days, Picard reflected. H
ow artless.
"However," he continued, "since I can't give you a logical, rational explanation for what I'm doing..." He turned to Troi. "It all falls on your shoulders, Deanna. Have I really demonstrated a lack of mental competence... or evil intent? Or am I simply following my own conscience... trying to do what I believe is best for the ship, and for the Federation?"
He waited while she probed and reprobed his consciousness, scanning for signs of malice or duplicity. She wouldn't find any, of course.
Still, there were things he was holding back. The counselor would discover that, if she hadn't already. And having discovered it, she might interpret it as a reason not to trust him.
A moment later, she announced her verdict. "You're right," she told the captain. "I don't sense any mental instability or malicious intent. Therefore, I can see no grounds to find you unfit for command." She paused. "But I am extremely worried about the actions you are taking... and I would strongly urge you to reconsider."
Picard nodded. "Your concerns are noted." Then, turning to Tasha, he said, "You can still attempt to relieve me, if you wish."
The security chief shook her head. "No, sir," she responded. "I may be many things, but I'm not a mutineer. If Troi says you are fit for command, then I'll do my duty."
It was clear that she still had misgivings about him. However, for Tasha, her duty to her captain came first.
Picard was grateful for that.
"Very well, then, Lieutenant. Contact the lead Terellian ship. Tell them we'll be evacuating all civilians and nonessential personnel from the Enterprise to their vessels. Once we've completed the evacuation, they are to leave the Neutral Zone."
The security officer was already at work, even before the captain could complete his instructions. "Aye, sir," she answered.
"And, Lieutenant..." he continued.
She looked up at him.
"Don't take no for an answer," he told her.
Tasha nodded. "I won't, sir." Turning to his conn and ops officers, Picard said, "Data... O'Brien... you're with me." As they followed his order, other personnel took their places.
Waiting just a moment for them to fall in behind him, he led the way to the turbolift.
Several minutes later, down in engineering, Picard was peering at Data and O'Brien across the master systems display console.
The android seemed just the slightest bit frustrated. "Captain, I do not see any way to dissipate the anomaly," he said.
O'Brien swore softly. Being human, his emotions ran a good deal higher.
"Sir," he said, "the anomaly's output is greater than the combined energy of our entire fleet. It's just too big for us to handle."
Picard thought for a moment. "Let's concentrate on how this anomaly was initially formed. Speculation?"
Data was the first to respond. "Temporal ruptures in the space-time continuum are rarely a naturally occurring phenomenon. It is therefore most likely that this anomaly was caused by an outside catalyst."
"Like a warp-core explosion," O'Brien suggested.
"I think I can rule out a warp-core explosion," said the captain.
The android thought some more. "Our tachyon pulse has been unable to completely penetrate the anomaly. If we had information about the center of the phenomenon, we might have a basis for speculation."
"Can you find a way to scan the interior?"
"I've tried everything I know of," O'Brien said quickly. "There's just too much interference. There's nothing on board that'll do the job."
Picard thought quickly. "Do you know what would?"
There was a tense moment, then Data answered. "In theory, a tomographic imaging scanner capable of multiphasic resolution would be able to penetrate this much interference." He paused. "Sir, the Daystrom Institute has been working on such a device, although it is still only theoretical."
Information, Picard thought, we need to know what's going on inside that thing. The question is—
--how to get that information. Abruptly, he realized that he'd shifted again. He was no longer in the past, in engineering. Now he was back in the present, at the aft science station on the Enterprise's bridge.
Data was still with him. But instead of O'Brien, he now had Geordi.
More important, there was an opportunity here, if he could only seize it. In the past, they'd determined a way to get more information about the anomaly's internal workings—but they'd lacked the technology to do so.
"Mr. Data," he said. "Do we have a tomographic imaging scanner on board?"
"Yes, sir," the android replied.
"Can you use it to scan the center of the anomaly?"
The android turned to him. "Possibly." He moved to do so. "Sir, there is a great deal of interference... but I am getting some readings." Picard waited impatiently while Data pushed buttons on his console. "This is very unusual," Data said, with just a hint of the inflection Picard remembered from Data's future self.
"What is it?" Picard asked. At last he felt they were closing in on the core of the problem.
"It appears that our tachyon pulse is converging with two other tachyon pulses at the center of the anomaly. The other two pulses have the exact same amplitude modulation as our own pulse. It is as if all three originated from the Enterprise."
Picard considered that. "Three pulses... from three time periods... all converging at one point in space.... "It had to be more than a coincidence.
"Captain." Data asked, "what are you suggesting?"
Picard massaged his jaw. "Just that..."
"... that..."
Damn. He'd shifted again, hadn't he? Picard was lying on a bed in some sort of guest quarters. He was wearing a set of loose-fitting blue nightclothes. And he was old again, so this had to be the future.
How had he gotten here? He scratched at his bearded chin. The last thing he remembered in this era was.,.
Oh, yes. Back on the bridge. Beverly had used a hypospray on him. And he was only now waking up.
Sitting up, he swiveled his legs over and got out of bed. Noting a familiar-looking control on a nearby table, he tapped it.
"Computer," he said, "where's Admiral Riker?"
"Admiral Riker is in Ten-Forward," came the response.
Picard harrumphed and headed for the door. In the other two time periods, he was moving toward a solution to the problem posed by the anomaly. He was determined that, no matter what it took, this time period would be no different.
CHAPTER 22
Admiral Will Riker glanced over his shoulder at a table on the other end of Ten-Forward, where Geordi and Worf were sitting together. Then, he looked back to Beverly and Data, with whom he was sharing this table.
He had tried to make his glance as casual as possible. Unfortunately, Beverly knew him too well to believe it.
"Spying on the enemy?" she asked sarcastically.
Riker grunted. "In a manner of speaking."
"Will," said the doctor, "how long is this thing between you and Worf going to go on?"
He shrugged. "It's been going on for twenty years now. And it doesn't look like it's going to end any time soon."
"I suspect the last thing Counselor Troi would have wanted is for the two of you to be alienated from one another," Data remarked.
"I agree," Dr. Crusher put in. "It's time to put this behind you."
"I tried, at Deanna's funeral," Riker replied sadly. He recalled that tragic day. "He wouldn't talk to me."
"Might have been tough for him then," Geordi suggested. "He took her death pretty hard."
"Yeah?" Riker said, his voice sharper than he would have liked. "Well, he wasn't the only one." He saw Dr. Crusher's deep-set eyes lock straight onto his.
"I know," the doctor said, "but in his mind... you were the reason he and Deanna never got together."
"I didn't do anything to stand in their way," Riker answered, his natural defensiveness coming forward.
The doctor's bright eyes still held him. "Didn't you, Will?" she asked softly.
He recalled the last time he had seen Worf. It was on Betazed, at a place called Lake Cataria... where the sky was such a deep violet-blue it hurt one's eyes to look at it, and the breeze from the mountains carried the scent of something strangely like chocolate.
It was a perfect day—the kind that made one wish there would never be an end to it. The breeze was warm there, but not too warm. And the water of the lake sparkled like liquid gold in the burnished sunshine. They had all gathered by the sandy western shore— Riker and the Klingon, the captain and Beverly, Geordi and Data. It was where they would say their farewells to the woman who had been their friend and confidante ... their comrade and advisor.
Lwaxana, on whom age and sorrow and loss were at last taking their toll, had made her apologies through her giant of a servant. She would not come to the public ceremony. Unable to bear the sorrow of seeing them all again, she would do her mourning in private.
Betazoid custom called for a wooden funeral platform, on which the deceased could be viewed in a transparent case. In this instance, the platform was empty, since there was nothing left of the deceased to inter.
A friend of the family led them in the traditional funeral chants, much of which was snatched away by the wind. And when the time came to speak of her, he did so out loud, because they were offworlders and not telepaths.
Mostly, he spoke of Deanna's courage—and how, though the bounty of her heart brought great joy to those around her, it also made her vulnerable to those whose hearts were full of bitterness. In the end, he said, that vulnerability was her undoing.
Then he called upon the one who had been closest to her to plant the first seeds in the soil before the platform. Riker and Worf glared at each other across the patch of freshly turned earth. Riker saw in Worf's eyes the pain that was a reflection of his own. Then he gave way, letting Worf have the honor of planting the seeds.
Star Trek - [TNG] - All Good Things... Page 15
