by Ted Pedersen
“About three hundred meters down that way,” Jake said, pointing.
“Then you and the young lady head for it,” O’Brien said in a voice used to giving commands. “I’ll search for Nog and meet you there.”
“But—” Jake started to complain. Nog was his best friend. He wasn’t about to leave him.
“I know how you feel,” O’Brien said. “But you’ve got her to look after. I’ll find Nog. I promise.”
Jake didn’t like it, but the chiefs logic was correct. One of them had to stay with Brigitte and get her to safety.
So, while O’Brien remained behind, Jake and Brigitte moved through the marshy ground toward the boat.
They had hidden the boat in a dense patch of weeds. There were trees between it and the bridge so that they wouldn’t be seen by German patrols who frequented the area.
It was wet and cold moving through the marsh. Jake kept them closer to the river, rather than moving inland where the ground would be firmer but they would have been more likely to encounter a German patrol. With all the action at the bridge, Jake was certain that there would be Germans all over the area very soon.
What he didn’t expect was to run into them this soon. Moving as quietly as possible through the darkness, Jake and Brigitte stopped short as a broad-shouldered man stepped out of nowhere, blocking their path.
From the distance, through the wet mist, Jake couldn’t see who the man was. But he could see the rifle the man carried in a ready position.
Then, from another angle, a second man appeared. Followed by a third. They all carried weapons.
What do I do now? Jake wondered to himself.
Brigitte squeezed his hand. Had he rescued her from the river, only to deliver her into a German prison?
“Bon soir.” The voice that came from behind them was familiar.
Slowly, still holding Brigitte’s hand, Jake turned and found himself facing Monsieur Jean.
The tall Frenchman smiled politely. “Rather late to be out for a walk, isn’t it?”
“We were, ah—” Jake stammered.
“I know what you were trying to do.” Monsieur Jean looked at Brigitte. “Uncle Maurice told me. He thought you might get into trouble.”
In the distance Jake heard another round of shooting from the direction of the bridge. Monsieur Jean looked over his shoulder. “My men will lead the Germans off in the wrong direction. But the Germans are not stupid. We need to leave here … quickly. Robert, give us a hand.”
One of the Resistance fighters stepped over and helped Brigitte. Monsieur Jean walked beside Jake as they moved through the marsh.
“Your attempt to rescue your friend was ill advised,” Monsieur Jean said. Then he clasped a big hand on Jake’s shoulder. “But I admire your bravery.”
Suddenly, Jake became aware that they were not heading toward the boat. He stopped.
“Not to worry,” Monsieur Jean said. “The boat will be retrieved later … when things are quieter.”
It was not the boat that Jake was worrying about, but O’Brien and Nog. “I have to wait for my friends.”
“The Irishman and the strange one with the big ears are safe,” Monsieur Jean said. “I promise.”
That eased Jake’s mind-until he realized that Monsieur Jean had not mentioned the real reason they were here, in this time period. The Changeling.
“The German colonel?” Jake asked.
“Escaped, I’m afraid. But not to worry. We will find him.”
But will we find him in time? Jake thought. Will we find him in time?
CHAPTER 11
Earth, Occupied France, Normandy, June 3,1944
As Monsieur Jean had promised, O’Brien and Nog arrived at the cottage shortly after Jake, Brigitte, and the French Resistance fighters. Uncle Maurice had found Nog in the marshes. The Changeling had morphed and escaped. He could now be anyone—or anything.
“I feel stupid,” Nog said.
“Not your fault.” Jake tried to reassure his friend.
“We should have known the blindfold was not enough. We needed a stasis field.”
“Unfortunately, lads, the closest one is several hundred years in the future.” O’Brien pondered the situation as he sat with Jake and Nog in a corner of the room.
“We’ll have to figure out another way to contain him,” Nog said. “The next time we meet.”
“What if there isn’t a next time?” Jake contemplated the worst-case scenario.
“There will be,” Nog replied. He pointed at Jake’s jacket. “You have his only ticket home.”
“If he intends to go home.” O’Brien said.
They both looked at the chief, who continued. “The Changeling may not be planning on returning to the future. While I hate to admit it, it’s quite likely that we may never see him again.”
If that’s true, Jake thought, then we’ve failed. They still had the means to return to the future, but if it was the future of the Changeling, would they want to go back?
As morning approached, the atmosphere inside the cottage was as thick as the fog outside. It had been a long, sleepless night for everyone.
While Monsieur Jean and the others in the French Resistance appeared to accept Jake, Nog, and O’Brien as allies, they still had many unanswered questions.
Fortunately, O’Brien, who had played a hundred Battle of Britain simulations with Dr. Bashir in Quark’s holosuites, knew enough World War II history to come up with what he hoped was a convincing story. They were helping the Allied forces, scouting ahead to make sure the invasion happened as planned. The colonel was a traitor who had to be stopped before he alerted the German command in Paris. Not a bad story, Jake thought. And not too far from the truth.
But Jake was anxious. Not so much about whether or not the Resistance accepted him—though that did concern him—but about the fact that the Changeling had escaped and they had no idea how to find him.
“He’ll try to go to Paris,” Nog suggested, sitting on the floor in a corner with Jake. Across the room, O’Brien sat at the table under the bare lightbulb with Monsieur Jean and Uncle Maurice. The man called Robert had led the other Resistance members out to search for Colonel Kruger. But Jake was certain that the Changeling had taken another form by now. He could be anyone—and anywhere.
Overhead the bare bulb hung down from the ceiling, casting shadows. To Jake it made the whole scene seem unreal. It reminded him of a holosuite game, except that here the computer wouldn’t freeze the program if things got sticky.
Brigitte entered the room, carrying a wooden tray that contained five cups of coffee. After setting three down on the table, she brought the remaining two over to Jake and Nog.
Jake took a sip of the brown liquid. It was hot but definitely not up to replicator standards. His grandfather would not serve this weak brew in his New Orleans restaurant.
“Sorry,” Brigitte said, noticing Jake’s tepid response to the coffee. “With the war, our supplies are low. I have to stretch the coffee beans.”
“No.” Jake apologized for his apparent reaction. “It’s fine.”
Brigitte slid down and sat on the floor next to him. “No. It’s not.”
“Hey, I like it.” Nog smiled and swallowed. Jake wondered if he’d picked up a few of the local grubs to add flavor to the brew.
“You were saying,” Jake said to Nog, turning the conversation from coffee back to the Changeling.
“Paris, is what I was saying,” Nog replied. “That’s where he was headed. And that’s where he’ll be going.”
“Why Paris?” Jake asked.
“It’s close enough,” Nog said. “The German command is there. And he doesn’t have time to go all the way to Berlin.”
“But will they believe him?” Brigitte asked.
“I don’t think that matters,” Jake said. Nog and Brigitte looked at him, wondering what he meant. Jake took an obligatory sip of the coffee and explained. “He can become whoever he chooses. Rather than convince a general
to believe his story, he can become the general and give the orders to prepare for the Allied invasion.”
“We must tell the Allies,” Brigitte insisted. “They must change the invasion plans!”
“No!” Jake almost shouted. They couldn’t start changing history to avoid … changing history. It was giving Jake a headache sorting out the logic of time.
“Besides, why would they believe us? Even if we gave them details of the invasion, they’d only think we were spies.”
“We must do something,” Brigitte said with passion. Whatever she believed about their time travel tale, it was obvious she did accept that the coming invasion was in jeopardy. And if it failed, the war might be lost to the enemy. That was the very real, present danger.
Jake understood that, and he was as impatient as she to do something. But what? He looked across the room at O’Brien sitting with the two Frenchmen. Even if Monsieur Jean actually believed their story, he and his Resistance movement would not be able to help them.
Jake touched the time portal device in his pocket. O’Brien had figured out how to use it to get them back to the future. They didn’t need Vance’s retinal scan. The professor had programmed in a return loop. When the portal was activated again they should return to the lab in twenty-fourth-century France. Should … Their only real hope now was that the Changeling would need to return to the future—if only to determine if he had succeeded—and when he did, they could catch him. It is a real long shot, Jake thought. But it might be the only shot they had.
“I have to make breakfast,” Brigitte said, which caused Jake to realize they hadn’t eaten in a while. He was hungry. “Would you like to help?”
It was an invitation Jake couldn’t refuse. He followed Brigitte into the kitchen.
Not that it was much of a kitchen. It was almost as bare as the rest of the cottage. There was a small wood-burning stove, a table that alternated between being a place for preparing a meal and a place for eating it, and what looked like an old-fashioned radio on a shelf above the table.
Life in the twentieth century was pretty primitive, Jake thought. Still, looking at Brigitte, he was sure he could get to like it—if there wasn’t a war on.
From the other room he heard the sound of the door opening and someone entering. Probably one of the Resistance men reporting in.
But when he looked through the doorway, he saw Nog, O’Brien, Monsieur Jean, and Uncle Maurice staring at the man who had entered, as if they had seen a ghost. And in the case of Monsieur Jean, it seemed that he had. For the man who entered was Monsieur Jean, and he cradled a rifle in his arms.
“Please not to move,” the man said. He looked over at Monsieur Jean, who sat next to O’Brien at the table. “That man is … an impostor.”
Jake slid back from the kitchen doorway, hoping the man had not seen him. Either he or the Monsieur Jean sitting at the table was the Changeling.
But the question was, which one?
Brigitte was about to speak, but Jake motioned for her to be silent. They stepped farther back into the kitchen, while Jake tried to figure out what to do.
He had two problems. The first one was to determine who was real and who was the Changeling. But even if he knew which one it was, he still had to find a way to immobilize the alien before he could morph and escape.
A blood sample would prove who was human and who was not. Changeling blood did not coagulate and, in fact, showed all the properties of the Changeling. But Jake doubted that either of the Monsieur Jeans would allow that test to happen.
No. He had to reason this out. Then make his move based on that decision.
But which one is the Changeling?
The one who just came in was certainly the aggressor. But, on the other hand, he might be the real Monsieur Jean, carrying a weapon because he couldn’t be sure what was going on. Jake gave equal weight to both possibilities.
Jake had to get one of them to reveal himself. Then he had to figure out how to contain someone who could instantly dissolve into a formless shape and escape.
He looked around the kitchen. An idea struck him. It might work. It had to. He whispered some quick instructions to Brigitte, then entered the other room.
“Hold it,” the Monsieur Jean with the rifle said as he saw Jake.
Jake froze. If only he could be sure who was real and who was a duplicate. He looked at both Frenchmen. There was no way to tell for sure. Their looks, their voices, even their mannerisms were identical.
“He’s after the device,” O’Brien said. “That’s why he’s here.”
“Yes,” the Monsieur Jean at the table said. Suddenly he morphed out a tentacle-like arm and grabbed the weapon from the startled Monsieur Jean at the door.
“This weapon is an antique but sufficient to inflict damage.” The arm of the Monsieur Jean at the table morphed back into human form. He stood up with the rifle. He looked at Jake. “I do want my device back. Once I’ve informed the German high command of the Allies’ D day plans, I must return to be certain that history has been altered.”
“It’s in the kitchen,” Jake said. “I was working on it.”
The Changeling stepped forward and looked through the kitchen door, all the while keeping an eye on the men in the other room. The device was, as Jake had said, lying on the table. Brigitte was nowhere to be seen.
Jake had been afraid that the Changeling would order him to retrieve the device, but that didn’t happen. The Changeling came into the kitchen and moved toward the table. As soon as he had the device, he would morph and make his escape. And it would be impossible to stop him.
Except that, as Jake had hoped, in his haste the Changeling was concentrating on the device on the table and not noticing the wet floor where Brigitte had just poured a bucket of water. Nor did he see the bare wires torn from the portable generator used to power the shortwave radio used by the Resistance. Not until he stepped on the wire.
“Now!” Jake shouted.
From her vantage point inside the walk-in cupboard, Brigitte hit the generator’s power switch. There was a sudden arc of electricity that sprang from the wires on the wet floor and ran up the body of the Changeling.
Quickly Jake grabbed another bucket and splashed water on the Changeling, increasing the voltage that surged up through his alien body and preventing him from morphing.
O’Brien was now in the kitchen. He picked up a rolling pin and slammed the Changeling hard, knocking him unconscious.
“You can shut it down now,” O’Brien said, and they watched as the electrical arcing stopped.
“Is he…?” Jake asked as O’Brien leaned down to examine the Changeling.
“He’ll survive,” O’Brien said. Then the chief engineer stepped over to the table and retrieved the time portal device.
Nog, Monsieur Jean, and Uncle Maurice entered the kitchen. The two Frenchmen were confused.
“Just what is going on?” Monsieur Jean demanded.
“We have to get this man back to Allied headquarters,” O’Brien explained in his most official voice. “There is a rendezvous point. But I’ll need a vehicle. Can you and Uncle Maurice get us one?”
Monsieur Jean nodded. “We’ll be right back.” The two Frenchmen left.
O’Brien looked at Jake and Nog. “I wanted them out of the way while I open the time portal.” He looked at Brigitte. “You seem to know a lot of what’s been going on. I’ll leave it to you to make up a story about where we’ve gone.”
“I’ll do that,” Brigitte said. “But the invasion? Is it really going to happen here?”
“Yes,” O’Brien said. “That much I can tell you.”
“And,” Nog added, “You do win.”
O’Brien activated the time device. There was a single instant when Jake wasn’t sure it was going to work. Then there was a pulsating cube of incredible light forming a vortex in the center of the room. Rapidly the vortex grew and became a rectangle large enough to enter. It was their doorway home.
“Let�
��s go, lads,” O’Brien said. He had hold of the Changeling and pulled him as he entered the vortex of the portal—and vanished. Then Nog followed, and he, too, was gone.
Brigitte looked at the sight with eyes filled with amazement. “Now I believe you, Jake,” she said.
Jake stepped forward and prepared to follow his friends through the portal, but Brigitte touched his hand, and he hesitated.
“I have to go,” Jake said. Already the portal was beginning to shrink.
“I know,” Brigitte said. “There is something I want to give you. I know there is no time. Only tell me the date where you are going.”
Jake told her. Quickly she leaned forward and kissed him. “Do not forget me, Jake Sisko.”
“I won’t,” Jake promised. There was a moment of indecision, when he wondered if it might not be possible to stay. He had a brief, terrible thought that Brigitte might die in the war.
“You must go now,” Brigitte said urgently.
Jake turned and saw the portal wavering as it continued to shrink. In a few more seconds he wouldn’t be able to get through. He had to go now.
With one final look back, Jake stepped up and entered the vortex … and as he was swallowed by the abyss, he fell forward into the future.
CHAPTER 12
Earth, Paris, 24th Century
In a single instant, Jake stepped from the middle of the twentieth century back into the twenty-fourth.
One moment he was with Brigitte in the cottage on the Normandy coast, and the next was in professor Vance’s laboratory in Paris.
Behind him the time portal closed. The link between the generations was broken.
Jake saw that Nog and O’Brien had hold of the Changeling, who still appeared to be Monsieur Jean. The professor and his assistant, Pierre, were anxiously watching, not quite certain what was going on.
“I’ll contact Starfleet security,” O’Brien was saying. He looked at Nog. “Make sure he stays unconscious until they arrive. If you can’t find a phaser to stun him with, then hit him over the head.”
“I have a better idea,” Professor Vance offered. “Put the Changeling on the table.”
