by Ted Pedersen
“You may be right,” O’Brien said. “But I wouldn’t mind having the recipe for this sauce programmed into the station’s system.”
“Sorry,” Joseph said. “I never let my recipes be replicated. I’m old-fashioned that way. Besides, the duplicates never taste quite as good as the original.”
Once Jake thought that his grandfather’s ideas were like the old man, out of date and old-fashioned. But now he was beginning to see their wisdom. He was right that one couldn’t replicate creativity. The older he got, the more Jake grew to appreciate his grandfather.
After they finished their lunch, the trio said good-bye to Joseph Sisko and strolled along the canal to the neighborhood transporter station. It was drizzling, and a wet, gray mist hung over the city. From previous visits to his grandfather, Jake knew that June in New Orleans was often damp and chilly.
“I hope the weather’s better in Paris,” Nog said as they entered the warmth of the public transporter station.
Jake didn’t really care what it was like. He was just looking forward to being in the City of Light. He only hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed.
CHAPTER 2
Earth, Paris, Same Day
He wasn’t. Jake found Paris in early summer to be a symphony for the senses. This was a city that had beckoned to writers, from Victor Hugo to Ernest Hemingway, and most recently the Vulcan poet Olvek, who had settled here in the last century and still worked in a loft somewhere on the Left Bank.
It was early evening in this part of the world. One of those warm, misty summer evenings in Paris when the air was filled with the sweet fragrance of chestnut trees, while a hint of approaching thunder hung on the horizon.
They arrived in the city at a busy transporter station near the Seine. The river, which was once dangerously close to extinction from pollution, had been reborn and was now a lovely blue ribbon that snaked its way through the city. Jake imagined the river had been like this two thousand years ago when the city was still only a minor fishing village occupied by the Romans.
Dominating the city was the famous symbol of Paris, the Eiffel Tower. It rose above the nearby rooftops like the spidery frame of an uncompleted pyramid. Actually, Jake knew, this was not the original tower. That had been destroyed in the twenty-first century during the Third World War. But the new one had been painstakingly re-created from the original blueprints.
The Eiffel Tower was such an icon for the city, Jake found it hard to believe that after it had been built for a world’s fair in 1889, many of the French elite considered it ugly and demanded it be torn down. Fortunately that didn’t happen, and the tower had remained ever since as a magnet that attracted people from all over the quadrant to Paris.
Their destination was the laboratory where Vance worked. It was located in a research park northwest of the city. They could have beamed directly there, but this was Paris, so they opted to take a hovercab and see the sights along the way.
That might have been a mistake. The driver zoomed in, around, and over the twisting streets of the city at near warp speed, leaving little opportunity for any sightseeing.
“French cab drivers haven’t changed in a millennium,” O’Brien remarked when they arrived at their destination.
The Advanced Physics Research Center was a cluster of seven white buildings, all of them three stories in height and looking exactly alike. The buildings were ringed by a wide park of green grass and chestnut trees. This could have been any industrial center on any planet in the Federation—except for the security.
There were no fences around the center, but it was totally enclosed in a force field, similar to those used on a starship for defense.
Nothing short of a salvo of heavy-duty photon torpedoes would disturb the occupants, Jake thought as the Starfleet duty officer scanned their identity badges and ushered them through the entrance gate.
“Professor Vance is expecting you,” the officer said, handing them a small PADD that showed them the way. The PADD was imprinted with a security alarm that would activate if they took any unwarranted detours.
“Whatever the professor’s involved in, it must be important,” Nog said as they rode a slidewalk to the sixth building.
“Temporal displacement,” Professor Vance explained after everyone had been properly introduced. In layman terms, time travel.”
“The control of time is more important than the control of space,” added the professor’s assistant, Pierre, a tall, thin Frenchman who was the direct opposite of the short, squat Vance.
“Perhaps,” was Professor Vance’s only comment. He seemed much more interested at the moment in examining the bonsai tree that O’Brien had delivered than in discussing the physical or political aspects of time travel.
It was Pierre who showed Jake and Nog around the lab while Vance and O’Brien remained behind to discuss botanical pursuits.
“I’ve studied temporal disturbances at the Academy,” Nog said as they looked around what Pierre called the “time lab.” It reminded Jake of an inactive holosuite. There was very little in the room itself, except for a single work table and a control panel located in the wall next to the door.
“But they require a tremendous amount of energy,” Jake commented. He had done his own reading.
“Starships have broken through the time barrier, but only when traveling at hyperwarp velocities.”
“Energy is indeed the key,” Pierre replied. “With a power source great enough, virtually anything is possible.”
“So where does the energy come from?” Nog asked.
“Ah, that’s our little secret.” Pierre smiled and stepped over to the control panel. He punched in a code, and there was a low whirring sound, like the Cardassian generators that powered Deep Space Nine. “Actually, the secret belongs to Professor Vance, and he’s shared it with no one—not even me.”
“He’s found a new source of power?” Jake wondered.
“Perhaps,” Pierre answered. “Or maybe he’s just found a way to amplify the current sources.” Pierre tapped the control panel. “All I know is that the power that pours through these circuits is equivalent to the amount of energy generated at a star’s core.”
Jake and Nog were impressed. Then they turned their attention to the center of the lab and were even more impressed.
A pulsating cube materialized in the center of the room. It floated about half a meter off the floor and began to grow until it was the size of a door. It was originally a blurred yellow in color, but as it took on more definition, it became a dark orange shade. That was the cube’s boundaries. Inside the cube there was—nothing.
Not just something that couldn’t be seen, but nothing, as if the interior was a gateway that led to—nowhere.
“We call it the portal,” Pierre explained.
“Portal means it links to somewhere,” Jake said. “Where does it go?”
“Anywhere and anywhen you want to go,” Pierre said. “At present there is enough power to travel back through several centuries of Earth’s history.”
“Can you go into the future?” Nog asked.
“No. The way the professor explains it is that at any fixed moment in time, there are an infinite number of possible futures. Each choice made in a fixed moment determines what the future will be. To travel into a place that—for us—does not yet exist and could have a hundred billion possible forms requires far more energy than we’ve been able to tap into so far.”
“Perhaps it can’t be done,” Jake said. “Maybe we can only go back in time.”
“And change the future,” Nog added, thinking of the possibilities. For a brief moment he was more Ferengi entrepreneur than Starfleet cadet.
“That is the dilemma we find ourselves in,” Professor Vance said as he entered the room, accompanied by O’Brien. “Unfortunately, the ability to reshape destiny has always appealed to humankind.”
“To play God can be very attractive,” Jake admitted as he considered all the potentials of the professor’s inven
tion—for good or evil.
“You mean you could actually go back and change the past to create a different future?” O’Brien asked.
“It’s possible, but more difficult than you might imagine.” The professor paused, then continued. “Think of time as a river. Tossing a pebble, even a large boulder, into the river will do little to alter its course. But if you block the river at a strategic narrow point, perhaps felling a tree to create a dam, then you might affect the flow—and change the course of the river.”
“Sounds like this could be very dangerous in the wrong hands,” O’Brien commented.
“Yes. It would be.” The professor took out a small remote device from his pocket. “Which is why I’ve got the only control device, and it’s specifically coded to my unique retinal scan pattern. Even if it were stolen, it couldn’t be used by anyone else.” The professor put the device away. “That’s how it will remain until the Federation determines what shall become of my invention.”
It was night when Jake, Nog, and O’Brien left the building. There was a sliver of a moon on the horizon which occasionally peeked through the clouds. A brisk wind had picked up and stirred the trees. Somewhere in the distance was a bright flash, followed shortly by the low rumble of thunder.
“Storm coming,” O’Brien commented.
Jake and Nog didn’t notice the distant storm. Their heads were still swimming with all the possibilities of time travel. They didn’t notice the man hurrying toward them along the slidewalk—until he collided with them.
“Sorry,” Jake apologized, helping the man to his feet. Then he froze as saw who the man was.
“Pierre,” Nog said as he, too, recognized the face.
“Do I know you?” Pierre asked. It was apparent that he didn’t know either of them.
“We were just talking with you,” Jake replied. “In the lab.”
“Impossible,” Pierre said. “I spent the day in Provence.”
“But, if you weren’t here—who was it that was with Professor Vance?” Nog wondered.
“One guess,” O’Brien said. He had already turned and was leading back toward the building. “Only one species could perform such a perfect impersonation.”
Jake knew what O’Brien was thinking and spoke the dreaded word aloud: “Changeling!”
CHAPTER 3
Earth, Paris, Same Day
While they rushed back to the laboratory, Pierre explained that he had been called away on urgent family business early that morning. He had beamed to a small village in France’s Provence region. But there had been no urgency, and no one admitted to making the call. Pierre suspected it had been a prank.
A strange power outage in the village had prevented him from using the transporter facility to beam to Paris, so he had taken a train back to the city. He thought the whole thing was strange but didn’t consider it threatening—until now.
The professor’s lab was located on the third level of the building, but the lift was stuck between the second and third levels. Not a good sign.
“We’ll take the stairs,” O’Brien shouted.
Jake, Nog, and Pierre followed the chief engineer up the winding stairwell. Jake wasn’t sure what he expected to find when they burst into the lab—but it wasn’t what did greet them.
“Professor?” O’Brien asked as they found Vance hunched over something on the table. Jake couldn’t quite see what it was that the professor was tinkering with, and as he turned it was shielded from their view by his body.
“Pierre. I thought you’d left. And Chief O’Brien, what brings you back? Did you forget something?”
“Where’s your assistant?” O’Brien asked.
“Why, he’s standing next to you,” Professor Vance replied, confusion obvious in his voice and expression.
“We mean the real Pierre,” Nog said.
“What’re you talking about?”
“You two try to explain,” O’Brien said to Jake and Nog, then he turned and ran out of the lab. Pierre hesitated a moment, then followed O’Brien.
“All right,” Professor Vance said, looking at Jake and Nog. “Please tell me what is going on.”
While Nog told the professor that they thought his assistant was really a Changeling, Jake was noticing the table. He saw what Vance had been working on: the remote time control device. Then Jake noticed that the control panel monitor was blinking.
“You’ve activated the time portal,” Jake realized.
“Well done, young Sisko,” Professor Vance acknowledged. “You’d make a great detective.”
Jake began to put things together in his mind. His intuition was carrying h1m toward a conclusion at warp speed. “I’ll bet O’Brien doesn’t find the other Pierre.”
Nog looked at his friend. “What are you thinking?”
“That the fake Pierre no longer exists. That the Changeling has taken on a new identity.” Jake looked at Professor Vance. “I’ll bet the reason the lift is stuck between levels is that someone is trapped inside it—the real Professor Vance.”
“Quite a piece of deduction,” Professor Vance smiled and stepped over to the table. He picked up the remote device. “Unfortunately—you’re exactly right.”
Vance entered a code into the remote device. “It’s easy to impersonate someone outwardly. But much more difficult to copy a simple retinal scan, even for a short period.” Now he pressed the activation key. “So you won’t mind if I cut this short.”
Directly behind where Professor Vance was standing, Jake saw the temporal portal materialize—first as a small pulsating dot that hung in midair, then rapidly expanding until it became a human-sized rectangle. “He’s opening the portal!”
Nog and Jake moved toward the professor, then stopped when Vance pulled out a phaser from beneath his jacket. “Sorry, I really do have to go. Things to do, places to be, history to change.”
Vance was almost at the portal when the lab door opened. O’Brien entered. Right behind him Jake could see Pierre helping a wobbly Professor Vance—the real professor.
“You must stop him!” the real professor shouted. “The damage he could do in the past … might change the course of history.”
“I certainly hope so,” the other Vance said. Then he aimed the phaser and fired.
The phaser blast wasn’t aimed at any of the people in the room, but rather at the control panel on the wall. “I’d rather no one followed me.”
The portal flickered for a moment, but the Changeling Vance adjusted the remote device, and the portal stabilized. “Now I have the only key that unlocks the door to the past.”
With that, he turned and stepped into the portal. As he entered the swirling vortex, Vance suddenly morphed into a golden gelatinous state.
And then he was gone.
“Definitely a Changeling!” O’Brien exclaimed.
“Where’s he going?” Jake asked.
“Wherever—or whenever—it is, we’ve got to stop him!” Nog yelled, and he ran toward the portal.
“Nog! Wait!” Jake shouted. But it was too late. The Ferengi had already entered the vortex.
Jake hesitated only a moment. The portal was shrinking. It would close in another moment—with Nog and the Changeling trapped on the other side. Jake had no idea where he was about to go, but he knew he couldn’t desert his best friend. He ran into the vortex—and vanished.
O’Brien did not hesitate even a moment. The two boys had followed the Changeling to the stars knew where and left him with no choice. They were his responsibility.
In the final instant before the portal collapsed, O’Brien leaped into the swirling vortex.
Behind him, in the lab, the portal closed. Ahead of him there was a dizzying display of bright light. He fell forward, tumbling down through the void toward the light. Wherever—and whenever—they were going, there was no turning back now.
CHAPTER 4
Earth, Stardate Unknown
Wherever they were, it certainly wasn’t Paris. They might not even be
in France anymore.
Jake was having second thoughts about leaping before looking. But it was too late for that now. He looked over his shoulder in time to see O’Brien follow him through the temporal portal just before it closed.
“Well, lads,” O’Brien said, echoing the thoughts of all of them. “Wherever we are, we’re here for the duration.”
“How are we going to get back?” Nog asked.
“We’ll need to find the Changeling and get the control unit,” Jake answered, realizing as he spoke that it wasn’t going to be easy.
“First things first,” O’Brien said. “Right now we need to know where in blazes we are.”
Jake looked around. Wherever they were, it was night, and it was cold. There was no moon or stars overhead, only a dark cloud cover that obscured the sky. It wasn’t raining, but the damp ground informed Jake that it had rained not long before. And, from the damp feel of air, might start again at any moment.
“We need to find shelter,” O’Brien said.
“But what about the Changeling?” Nog asked.
“We’ll never locate him in the dark,” O’Brien answered. Already he was looking around for someplace to go that would get them out of the cold.
“Besides,” Jake added, “he could have changed into anyone. There’s no way we’d recognize him.”
“Great,” Nog said. “We’re stuck who-knows-where looking for who-knows-who.”
Jake decided that this was not the appropriate moment to remind his Ferengi friend that it was his impulsive action that had landed them there. “When we find out where we are, then we’ll be able to figure out what critical moment in time the Changeling plans to alter. And that should lead us to him.”
“Unless he’s already accomplished his mission,” Nog said. “The future might have already been changed.”
“We can only hope that hasn’t happened,” Jake said. “Besides, we’ve only been here a few minutes, which means so has the Changeling. History isn’t that easy to rewrite.”
