by Dayton Ward
“Finally found something new?” asked Chen.
Holding up the frame, Jordan replied, “Not me. This is from the captain.” He paused for a moment, studying the wall, and eventually selected a frame in which was mounted a white trapezoidal patch originally worn by men and women assigned to Earth’s first permanent moonbase in the twenty-first century. In its place, Jordan hung the new frame, and Chen got her first good look at the photograph it contained.
“I’ll be damned,” said Elfiki.
Jordan smiled. “I know, right?”
It was a picture of Captain Riker and his senior staff from the Enterprise-D.
Chen said, “That’s going to raise some eyebrows.” She gestured to the photo. “Wait. Does this mean the captain told you the story behind it?”
“Yes,” replied the bartender.
“So you can tell us?” asked Elfiki.
Now the man’s smile turned mischievous. “One day. Maybe.”
Rolling her eyes, Chen tapped her glass. “I need a drink.”
“We can fix that.”
Her attention caught once more by the photograph as the bartender set to work, Chen could only wonder about what might have been and what might still be.
• • •
The nebula was, in a word, beautiful.
With everything that had transpired since their discovery of the planet, Picard had somehow allowed himself to forget about NGC 8541’s simple splendor. Even without the mystery it had harbored, the nebula offered numerous research opportunities for the ship’s science department. On the other hand, after the events of the past days, he knew it would not be easy for them to return to such mundane work, no matter what else they might find here.
It’s hard to blame them.
“Captain?”
Only upon hearing Worf’s voice did Picard realize he had allowed his mind to wander, and that he had done so not while sitting alone in his ready room, but in the ship’s observation lounge, with his senior officers and most trusted friends waiting in apparent silence for him to stop daydreaming.
“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, straightening in his chair before looking at Worf, Geordi La Forge, and Beverly. “I have to admit that I’ve been prone to the occasional bout of distraction these past few days.” He leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms atop the polished obsidian conference table. “I’m finalizing my report for Starfleet Command and wanted to know if any of you wished to add anything. I value your perspectives and opinions on what we all experienced.”
La Forge replied, “I’ve organized information from our sensors and our tricorder readings while we were on the surface, sir. Everything we were able to learn about the quantum-field generator is in there. Starfleet R and D will love that.”
“Indeed. Particularly since we can include in our report that Ushalon and the Sidrac returned safely to their own dimension.” The final transmission from Nelidar, transmitted through the dimensional barrier via the targeting buoy deployed to this reality, had detailed the planet’s safe arrival and the Sidrac’s evacuation to their home world, Elanisal. This, preceded by the message from Captain Riker that the Enterprise-D and the Romulan ship had also made it to their proper places in space and time, would ignite the imaginations of countless engineers and scientists back home. Starfleet Research and Development was always on the lookout for some new specimen of alien technology to study, be it something offered by a modern society or some ancient remnant of a lost civilization. The Enterprise had presented those scientists and scholars with a fair number of such specimens over the years, and they would spend months if not years poring over this new data. Picard imagined he would hear something about the fact that no practical examples of the quantum-field generator would be delivered, and even the targeting buoy was gone, having been obliterated thanks to a self-destruct command sent by Nelidar.
Oops.
“It’s not R and D you have to worry about,” said Crusher. “What about your report for DTI?”
Picard offered a wry smile. “As you might imagine, that will be somewhat longer and more detailed.”
And that’s before they find out everything.
“I hope you realize that I didn’t call you three here to discuss these particular matters,” said Picard. “Despite the extraordinary circumstances in which we found ourselves, these post-mission activities are mundane, if important. Instead, I invited you to this meeting because I need to confess something to you.” He placed his hands flat on the table and lowered his gaze to study its surface. “Captain Riker—Will—confided in me details about . . . some . . . of the differences between our two realities. As you might imagine, I was most curious as to what happened to my counterpart.” He briefly described the Enterprise-D’s first year with Riker in command after the abduction of that dimension’s Jean-Luc Picard and the destruction of the Borg cube that had assigned him as their spokesperson, Locutus.
“The Borg remain a threat in that timeline,” he continued, “which means they will launch further attacks against the Federation. There’s no way to know if those future campaigns will mirror what we experienced, but there’s also no reason to assume they won’t.” He looked up from the table in order to look at his friends. “I gave Captain Riker the schematics for a transphasic torpedo.”
Picard was uncertain what reaction to expect from the others, with one exception. There was Worf, sitting ramrod straight in his chair with an unreadable expression while Beverly and La Forge exchanged glances.
“That’s going to get someone’s attention at DTI,” said Crusher. “I guess we’ll find out once and for all whether the Temporal Prime Directive has rules to govern this sort of situation.”
“I’m okay with it.” La Forge clasped his hands and rested them on the table. “If the Borg do ever show up in force, the Federation will need every advantage it can get. If they get started now, they’ll have years to figure out how to make a better version of the torpedo. That might be all the jump they need to help take out the Borg before they can inflict the sort of destruction we faced.”
“Precisely,” said Picard. “That, and luck for the interstellar dominoes to fall where needed. Easier said than done, of course.”
Worf asked, “What do you plan to tell Starfleet Command, sir?”
“The truth, Number One. I’ve found that’s always the best course.” There would be innumerable questions and no small portion of hell to pay, but that did not concern Picard. If he could spare that other version of the Federation the same level of tragedy they were still working to repair, then his actions were worth it.
And what if you only make things worse?
It was a possibility, Picard knew. By giving Riker the schematics, he risked that dimension’s Starfleet developing and deploying the weapon against the Borg at a point in time well in advance of when it was first used in this reality. What if the Collective adapted to the technology far earlier? Would that Federation be able to devise some other means of defense? There was also the possibility that the Borg in that dimension could be destroyed earlier. Picard realized he could spend days, if not weeks, contemplating the various scenarios and their outcomes. It was enough to drive a person mad.
“Do you need us to do anything, sir?” asked Worf.
Picard rose from his chair, signifying the meeting’s conclusion, and his officers followed suit. “Just what we always do, Mister Worf. We shall continue our mission and let destiny take its course.”
After dismissing his staff to return to their duties, Picard was alone in the observation lounge. He swiveled his seat so that he could look out the windows, free once again to regard the nebula. He tried to lose himself in its simple beauty, but it was difficult, consumed as he was by thoughts of what might have been, and what might still be.
Make it so, Will.
EPILOGUE
ELSEWHERE
&n
bsp; U.S.S. Enterprise-D
Stardate 44855.7, Earth Year 2367
Will Riker paused just before the door sensor would be aware of his presence. One more step, and the occupants of the room beyond the door would know he had arrived, after which he would be committed to this course of action. There would be no turning back.
Amused at the silliness of his own hesitation, Riker smiled. He did not want to turn back. He did not want to retreat. This was something he wanted to do. Moreover, it was something he had to do.
He stepped forward, allowing the door to register his arrival. Though muffled, the sound of the chime was still audible, and a moment later the door slid aside.
“Good evening, everyone.”
Sitting at the octagonal poker table in the center of his first officer’s quarters were Data, Geordi La Forge, Deanna, Doctor Pulaski, Tasha Yar, Worf, and Wesley Crusher. Sitting in his customary place on the table’s far side as he shuffled a deck of playing cards, Data wore his familiar dealer’s visor. Glasses of various shapes and contents sat in front of a few of the players, namely Pulaski, Yar, and La Forge. An eighth chair, opposite the android and next to Deanna, was unoccupied. Everyone started to stand, but Riker held up a hand and indicated for them to keep their seats.
“Please, as you were. We’re all off duty.” He paused in the doorway, exchanging glances with each of his colleagues. “If it’s all right, I thought I’d join you.”
Data replied, “Certainly, sir. Welcome.”
“Now it’s a party,” said La Forge, punctuating his comment with an unabashed smile.
Pulaski gestured to the empty chair. “Your credits are absolutely good here, Captain.”
Grinning, Riker settled into the proffered seat. He took another moment to regard everyone at the table. More than crewmembers and friends, this was the closest thing he had to a family.
What the hell was I thinking, staying away from this for so long?
“Tasha,” he said, “when did you start playing?”
The security chief replied, “I’m not a regular, sir, but I do drop in from to time.” Looking around the table, she shrugged. “After everything we’ve just been through, it seemed like a good idea tonight.”
La Forge grunted, shaking his head. “You can say that again.” For Riker’s apparent benefit, he added, “Except for the minor stuff that can be taken care of during a standard duty shift, we’ve finished our repairs.” He rapped the table with his knuckles. “Perfect timing.”
“It is agreeable to have you return to the game, Lieutenant,” said Worf, before looking to Riker. “And you, Captain. I have longed for a worthy opponent with the courage to enter this arena.” Riker could not be sure, but he thought he saw a hint of mischief in the Klingon’s eyes.
“Worf,” said Crusher, “it’s just poker, not a fight to the death.”
“Then I shall make do.”
The remark solicited a few chuckles before Data began dealing cards, with each player receiving the first card facedown.
“Five-card draw. Nothing wild.”
It was not until each player had received five cards and was looking at their respective hands that Riker paused again. After a few seconds, everyone at the table realized he was looking at them. Glances were exchanged, and he even saw concern on the faces of Troi, Pulaski, and La Forge.
“Will?” prompted Troi. “Are you all right?”
“I was thinking how much I’d missed this.” Riker placed his cards facedown on the table. “I want to thank each of you again. Not for what we all just got done dealing with, but also the last several months. I know the transition hasn’t been easy for anyone. I couldn’t have gotten this far without all of you. I haven’t come out and said it the way it needed to be said before now, and for that I apologize.”
He paused, his gaze lingering on Data, Yar, and even Crusher just a bit longer than the faces of the others. “Recent events have reminded me that life is short and that we don’t know what the future and fate have in store for us. I need to remember that every day, every moment, is precious.”
“Hear, hear,” said Pulaski, holding up her glass of water in toast.
Crusher said, “Seeing the other Enterprise . . . seeing Captain Picard standing there, was definitely an eye opener. But it was seeing who wasn’t standing there that really got to me.” He dropped his gaze to the table and swallowed an apparent lump in his throat. “That’s what really drove home the point.”
“Exactly,” said La Forge.
Glancing to Yar, Riker said, “It’s worth remembering that their future’s not ours. They’ve already traveled a different path than we ever will. Just how different is that path?” He frowned. “No idea, and I’m not even sure I want to know, if for no other reason than I’m afraid it might affect how I make some future decision.”
“I don’t think that’s unnatural,” said Troi. “After all, it’s hard to deny that for all the subtle differences that seem to exist between our two dimensions, there also are a great many similarities.”
It was a point Riker had pondered almost from the first moment he had seen the other Enterprise—an Enterprise that had never known a master other than Jean-Luc Picard. Perhaps there were too many of those parallels? What experiences had that man and his crew endured over the years? Picard had offered precious few hints, taking great pains not to reveal too much about the disparate paths their ships had traveled. While he understood the other man’s caution—there might still be some permutation of the Temporal Prime Directive that required heeding, after all—it had not stopped Riker from considering the myriad possibilities. How many of Picard’s tantalizing insinuations might come to pass in this reality? There was no way to know, just as there was no way to predict just how divergent the courses of the two disconnected dimensions might become.
And I’ll go crazy trying to sort it all out. Maybe it’s better to just leave it alone.
“You do have to wonder, don’t you?” asked La Forge. “I mean, will we see any of the same things they’ve seen?”
Riker was not prepared to rule out that possibility, and neither—it seemed—was Picard. His former captain had even defied his own orders to say nothing of the Temporal Prime Directive by giving Riker an isolinear optical chip containing full schematics for the transphasic torpedo they had used on the planet. Picard’s explanation had been cryptic, but there could be only one reason to provide such valuable information.
The Borg. They might come back. We need to be ready. A lot more ready than we are right now.
Yar, quiet to this point, said, “If so, will we be affected the same way?” As though realizing her comment might cast a pall over the room, she added, “Sorry. I’m not usually so pessimistic.”
“I think you’re allowed this one,” replied Pulaski. “We’d be lying if we said we haven’t thought about any of this, and what it means to each of us.” She reached across the table and patted Yar’s arm. “But you’re here, so obviously things are and will be different.” Then she looked to Riker. “Some good, and some less so. As for you, Captain William Riker, here’s what I know as immutable fact: In any dimension or reality, Jean-Luc Picard would be very, very proud of you, and he would take great comfort in the knowledge that the welfare of the people he cared about most in his life were in your hands. Do not ever—even for one second—forget that.”
Feeling somewhat self-conscious in face of such effusive praise, Riker wondered if he might blush. Instead, he said, “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate that.”
“Maybe it is better to not know,” said Worf. When the others turned to him, the Klingon said, “I believe it would not be beneficial, as I do not believe that our fate is already decided. Just as careless time travel can in theory alter the course of our history, I believe that it is our actions that forge our destiny. Our values and our choices are what define us. There is no honor in rely
ing upon random chance. It is how we employ the gifts with which we are born, and the skills that we acquire over the course of our lives, that allow us to be the architects of our own future.”
His words sparked a chorus of agreements, as well as raised glasses in the case of La Forge, Pulaski, and Yar. La Forge shifted in his seat to regard his friend.
“Worf, is that supposed to be a Klingon warrior’s way of saying we should play the hand we’re dealt?”
The lieutenant seemed to ponder this notion for a moment before offering a satisfied nod. “Yes.”
Troi added, “I think that might also be Mister Worf’s way of saying it’s time to play some poker.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Pulaski, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table.
Crusher pointed to the doctor. “Watch out for her, Captain. She’s a shark.”
“I remember,” said Riker as he picked up his cards. “All right, let’s play.”
The room grew quiet as Crusher started the initial hand with the opening bet, with the rest of the table throwing in. Relaxing in his seat, Riker felt the tension and uncertainty, which had burdened him for far too long, beginning to melt away. This was where he belonged; not just in this room but on this ship. He had spent more than enough time wallowing in contemplation during the last few days as well as the past several months as he second-guessed and questioned himself and his abilities. It was well past the point for him to cast aside feelings of doubt or indecision.