Star Trek - [TNG] - All Good Things...

by Michael Jan Friedman

  "Thank you all for being prompt," the captain told them. "As you know," he added only half-seriously, "time is of the essence."

  Then, turning to Deanna, he asked, "Counselor, do you remember the first day I came aboard the Enterprise?"

  She returned his gaze. "Yes, I think I do."

  Picard leaned forward. "What happened after the welcoming ceremony?"

  "You mean after you disembarked from the Galileo?"

  He nodded. "Yes."

  Deanna thought for a moment. "There was a reception in Ten-Forward. I introduced you to Worf and the other senior officers.... "

  The captain held up his hand to stop her. "Do you have any memory of me calling for a red alert in spacedock? Do you remember Starfleet diverting us from Farpoint to the Neutral Zone to investigate a spatial anomaly?"

  She thought again. "No… I don't."

  Picard leaned back in his chair. "As you may have gathered, I do. I experienced those events just a few short hours ago."

  "It would appear," remarked Data, "that there is a discontinuity between the time periods you have described. Events in one period would seem to have no effect on the other two."

  "And yet," Riker offered, "in both the past and the present... there's a report of the same anomaly in the Devron system. It's hard for me to believe that's a coincidence."

  The captain nodded. "And for all I know, there may be a similar anomaly in the future, as well."

  "Maybe," commented Geordi, "the anomaly is some kind of... temporal disruptien." He positioned his hands as if he were holding a bowl, in an attempt to describe the thing. "A hole in the continuum, so to speak."

  Beverly turned to Picard. "But how is all this related to your time-shifting?"

  The captain grunted. "A good question. I suspect I may have some answers when I make my next round-trip to the past... or the future, whichever comes first."

  "In the meantime," Riker reminded him, "we've got the Romulans to keep us from getting bored."

  Picard turned to him, acknowledging the need for discussion. Regardless of what else was happening to him, that problem hadn't gone away.

  "Thank you for reminding me, Number One. Insofar as the current mission is concerned, all departments should submit combat-readiness reports by oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow." He looked from one face to the next. "I hope it won't come to that, of course—but if it does, I want to be ready. Dismissed."

  Everyone rose to go, intent on their respective assignments. As Deanna headed for the door, Riker caught her attention.

  "Looks like it's going to be a late night," he said.

  "Want to get some dinner first?" There was something in her eyes that he hadn't quite expected. A hesitation, a feeling of awkwardness. He wondered why.

  "Actually," said Deanna, "I..." She glanced over the first officer's shoulder. "I mean... we have plans." Riker turned to follow her gaze—and found himself looking at Worf. It caught him off-guard, but he recovered quickly enough.

  Apparently, the relationship between Deanna and his Klingon friend had progressed further than he realized.

  But hell... that was no fault of theirs, was it? They didn't have to keep the first officer apprised of their every move.

  "I see," he said, doing his best to sound casual. "Well, then... see you tomorrow morning."

  Worf inclined his massive head. "Good night, sir."

  Riker inclined his head in turn. "Worf..."

  He stood there for a moment, watching the two of them file out after the others—and acknowledged an emptiness in the pit of his belly that was directly related to the sight.

  Not that he had any right to tell either of them whom they could spend their time with. No one was in a position to do that.

  But, even though he and Deanna hadn't been lovers for several years now—since his assignment on Betazed came to an end—he'd always thought of her as his special friend. His confidante. His close companion.

  And now, he saw that someone else might be taking his place in that regard. Someone he liked and respected, true—but it was still a change he wasn't looking forward to.

  Or was there more to it than that? Did his feelings run deeper than he cared to admit? At some level, had he harbored the hope that, in the end, he and Deanna would wind up together again?

  Beleaguered by such disturbing thoughts, he sighed and went back out onto the bridge.

  CHAPTER 10

  Picard paused by the aft science station to give Data his orders. The android's face was caught in the glare of his monitors.

  "I want continuous subspace sweeps," he said. "We might detect a temporal disturbance."

  "Aye, sir," replied Data. Without hesitation, he got to work manipulating his instruments.

  Seeing that Riker was headed for the empty command area, the captain joined him. Together, they took their seats and settled in.

  "Will," he said, his eyes trained on the forward viewscreen, "this time-shifting business... when it happens, I experience a moment of disorientation. If this should occur during a crisis, I want you to be ready to take command immediately."

  There was no reaction. Turning to his first officer, Picard saw the faraway look on his face.

  "Number One?" Abruptly, Riker realized that the captain was looking at him. He straightened in his seat.

  "Sorry, Captain. Be prepared to take command. Aye, sir." But a moment later, it was clear that he was still absorbed by something—and Picard was willing to wager it had nothing to do with his duties.

  The captain frowned. "Speaking of disorientation. are you all right, Will?"

  The first officer nodded reassuringly. "Just a little distracted. I'm fine, sir. Really."

  Picard didn't quite believe him, but he decided not to pursue the matter. Even Will Riker was allowed a daydream now and then. If an emergency arose, the captain had no fear that his exec would respond to it.

  Besides, Picard told himself, I have to get some work done--before I pop out of this time period again. It Sounded silly when he put it that way, but right now he had to juxtapose the unfathomable with the very mundane.

  "You have the bridge, Number One. I'll be in my ready room."

  Riker turned and smiled at him in a perfunctory way. "Aye, sir."

  Rising, the captain made his way to his ready-room door. It slid aside at his approach, and the room itself was revealed to him.

  As never before, he was grateful for the sanctumlike nature of it...the steady, predictable peacefulness. Everything was right where he expected it to be, from his antique Shakespearean folio to his model of the Stargazer... from his Naikous statue, acquired on the Federation planet Kurlan, to his majestic Terran lionfish.

  It was very heartening... and very much an illusion, in that regard. There was no guarantee that he'd be here an hour from now, or even a minute. Anyway, what significance could those terms have when one was weaving in and out of Time?

  But enough of such mind-bending concerns. Right here, right now, Picard sat down behind his desk and applied himself to the ship's affairs. After all, life on the Enterprise had a way of going on, no matter what dangers might emerge in its path.

  Yet he had barely begun when he heard the sound of chimes, notifying him that there was someone outside his door. Turning in that direction, he said, "Come."

  As the door slid away, it showed him his chief medical officer. He thought he saw a look of concern on her face, but she was moving across the room too quickly for him to be sure.

  Stopping by the replicator, she made her request.

  "Milk... warm. A dash of nutmeg." The replicator hummed for a moment, then produced the required beverage. Taking it away, Beverly brought it to the captain.

  He looked up at her. "What's this?"

  She smiled. "A prescription. A glass of warm milk and eight hours' uninterrupted sleep."

  Picard sat back in his chair. "Beverly..."

  "Doctor's orders," she insisted. "You're exhausted. I don't know if you've slept in the p
ast or the future, but I know you haven't slept in the present. Now, get some rest, or I'll have you relieved and sedated."

  The captain chuckled, resigned to his fate. "Yes, sir." For a second or so, they just looked at each other, sharing the humor of the moment. Then Beverly leaned forward and put her hand on his.

  It began as a friendly gesture, or so Picard thought. But the doctor left it there a beat longer than necessary, giving it a little squeeze before she lifted it again.

  And as she straightened, he saw what he was now certain was a look of concern. The captain gazed into her eyes, trying to divine her thoughts.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  She seemed on the verge of telling him. Then, apparently thinking better of the idea, she turned and headed for the door. Picard stood, refusing to let the matter lie—whatever it was. "Beverly!" She stopped at the sound of her name, took a breath, and finally turned again to look at him. It took her a moment to gather herself before she could speak.

  "As a physician," she said softly, "it's often my job to give people unpleasant news... to tell them that they need surgery or that they can't have children... or that they might be facing a very difficult illness..."

  Before the doctor could finish, something seemed to catch in her throat. She looked away from him, her eyes bright. The captain moved to her, touched by her concern.

  "You said yourself it's only a possibility," he reminded her. "Only one among many."

  "But you've been to the future," she countered. "You know it's going to happen."

  He smiled as best he could. "I prefer to think of the future as something that is not written in stone. Beverly, a lot of things can happen in twenty,five years."

  He wasn't sure how she would respond to that. The last thing he expected was that she would lean forward and kiss him on the lips. And yet, that is the very thing she did.

  What's more, he kissed her back. And it was not like another kiss they had shared, several months earlier, after they had been linked mind-to-mind on the planet Kesprit. This time, it lingered.

  And when it was over, Beverly looked into his eyes meaningfully. He could smell her perfume, subtle though it was. He had never realized how provocative it could be.

  "You're right," she said. "A lot of things can happen." Before Picard could ask for an explanation, she turned and left--and this time he made no effort to stop her. As his ready-room door closed behind her, he contemplated what had just happened.

  Was this the beginning of a new stage in their relationship? Or just a fleeting emotion, born of Beverly's concern for him?

  Only Time would tell.

  Remembering the glass of milk she'd brought him, he went back to his desk, picked it up, and took a sip. It was just as soothing, just as calming as the doctor had suggested.

  Then, replacing the glass on his desk, he moved to the couch and stretched out. He could hear his joints creak with gratitude.

  Beverly was right. He was exhausted. Closing his eyes, the captain assured himself that it would be only a short nap... in which he would no doubt revisit the kiss he had just shared, searching for its meaning. But then, there were less pleasant things to dream about, weren't there?

  As he began to drift off, he thought he heard a voice.

  But that was ridiculous. He was alone in here…

  "Sir? Wake up, sir."

  There was no denying the summons now. Opening his eyes, Picard looked for the source of it—and saw that La Forge was standing over him. There was some sort of light source behind him, making it difficult to get a good look at the man.

  "Yes," he murmured. "Yes... what is it? Have we reached the Neutral Zone yet?"

  La Forge scrutinized him with his artificial eyes. "The... Neutral Zone, Captain?"

  That's when Picard sat up and looked around—and realized that he was back in Data's library. Back in the future.

  And the light source behind La Forge was just a window through which they were receiving the late afternoon light. Picard rubbed his eyes.

  "Sorry," he said. "I was... in the past again." Sitting up, he gathered his senses. "What's going on?" The younger man smiled sympathetically. "Data's arranged for us to run some tests on you in the biometrics lab. We're ready to go if you are."

  Picard shook his head, remembering what he'd learned. "No... no, we don't have time for that. We have to get to the Neutral Zone."

  La Forge's forehead wrinkled. "Why's that, sir?" The older man tried to concentrate. "In the other two time periods, Starfleet reported a... urn, some kind of... spatial anomaly in the... in the Devron system!" Exultant, he smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. "That's it. The Devron system in the Neutral Zone."

  La Forge sighed. "Sir..."

  But Picard wouldn't let him go on. He was going strong now, and he didn't dare pause or he might lose his train of thought.

  "If the anomaly was in the past... it might be here, too. We need to go find out if..."

  The other man looked at him askance. "Just because you've seen it in two other time frames doesn't mean it's going to be here."

  Picard felt the blood rush to his face. "Dammit, Geordi—I know what we have to do!"

  La Forge smiled again. In a way, the older man thought, that was almost worse than the other look he'd given him. He could put up with doubts, with skepticism. But he couldn't stand being patronized.

  "Okay, Captain. Whatever you say. But first of all, there is no Neutral Zone... remember?"

  No Neutral Zone? Picard pondered the matter, plumbing his memory... and was surprised to realize that his friend was right.

  "Klingons," he muttered. "In this time period, the Klingons have taken over the Romulan Empire..."

  La Forge nodded. "That's right. And relations between us and the Klingons aren't real cozy right now."

  Getting irritated at his companion's tone, the older man struggled to his feet. "I know that," he barked, pulling down on his tunic as he'd once pulled down on the front of his uniform. "I haven't completely lost my mind, you know."

  Abruptly, it occurred to him how cantankerous he sounded. Again, he was running roughshod over those who were trying to help him. Hoping to take the edge off his remark, he put his hand on La Forge's shoulder.

  "Sorry, Geordi. When I'm here, it's hard for me to concentrate... and remember things. I don't mean to take out that frustration on you."

  The younger man nodded. "It's okay." A beat. "Well, if we're going to the Devron system, we're going to need a ship."

  Picard scratched his chin. "We will, at that." Then it struck him how they might get one. "I think it's time to call in some old favors."

  La Forge raised an eyebrow. "Favors?" he repeated.

  "Yes," confirmed Picard. "Contact Admiral Riker at Starbase Two-Four-Seven."

  Geordi gazed approvingly at the monitor that Data had brought into the library. Except for the Starfleet insignia, the image on the screen was an unbroken field of violet-blue.

  "Nice resolution," he said appraisingly. "To tell you the truth, I've never seen one like this in a private home."

  Data nodded. "As I indicated earlier, holding the Lucasian Chair does have its perquisites."

  It appeared there was a whole slew of perquisites, because it hadn't taken the android long to contact Starfleet Command—or, having contacted them, to arrange for an audience with Admiral Riker.

  A moment later, only minutes after Data had made his request, Riker got in touch with them. The man was a lot grayer than Geordi remembered—but then, who among his old comrades wasn't? And as an admiral, the man had a whole lot more responsibility than before—a whole lot more reasons for his hair to have gone gray.

  But that wasn't the only difference in him. Even before Riker opened his mouth to speak, he seemed brittle, somehow... less easygoing than the man Geordi had known on the Enterprise. And there was no trace at all of that trademark Will Riker smile.

  "Jean-Luc," said the admiral, acknowledging his former captain. "Data...
Geordi." He was clearly pleased to see them, but he didn't show all the enthusiasm that Picard had probably been hoping for. Riker almost seemed... well, leery of what this might be about.

  "Will," replied Picard. "You look every inch the admiral. I knew we'd move you up in the ranks eventually." Riker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Of course you did," he agreed, but in a way that said he didn't have time for this. "Now, what can I do for you, sir?"

  As Picard outlined his needs and the reasons for them, the admiral's demeanor became frostier by degrees. Finally, he sat back in his chair and frowned.

  "Jean-Luc," he said, "you know I'd like to help. but frankly, what you're asking for is impossible. The Klingons have closed their borders to all Federation starships."

  Obviously trying to remain patient, the captain shook his head. "I don't think you appreciate the... the gravity of the situation. Will, if this... this spatial anomaly really is in the Devron system..."

  Riker didn't let him finish. "I saw a report from Starfleet Intelligence on that sector this morning. There's no unusual activity in the Devron system. nothing out of the ordinary in terms of celestial phenomena."

  "I don't believe that!" snapped the older man. "Maybe their long-range scanners are flawed. We have to go there, see for ourselves!"

  The admiral looked reluctant to turn Picard down flat. He eyed Data. "Professor, what do you make of all this?"

  The android seemed to hesitate for a moment, considering his answer carefully. Data had come a long way, it seemed to Geordi. He no longer made decisions based purely on logic; now, he appeared to take people's feelings into account.

  "I am not certain," the android said at last. "However, I cannot disprove what the captain is saying. And he seems to be convinced he is traveling back and forth through time."

  Riker frowned. "Right." Clearly, Data was siding with Picard—and that made it harder for him to dismiss the matter. "Look," he said, "I've got the Yorktown out near the border. I'll have Captain Shelby run some long-range scans of the Devron system. If she finds anything, I'll let you know."