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

by Michael Jan Friedman

  He hoped that somehow this would help make things right between him and Worf, but he doubted it. Klingons were good at holding grudges.

  With a start, he remembered he was in Ten-Forward.

  "You can't go back," the doctor was saying. "But maybe you can still salvage the present."

  Focusing his eyes, Riker looked at her. "Sure," he said. "And maybe latinurn will start growing on trees."

  She leaned forward, undaunted. "Talk to him, Will. Let him know you regret what happened." A wistful smile crossed her face. "Deanna would've wanted it that way."

  He knew in his heart that she was right. That was the way Deanna would've wanted it. But that didn't mean it was something he could do.

  Dammit, thought Picard. Dammit to hell. When had they reconfigured all the corridors on this ship?

  Of course, he knew that they hadn't done any such thing. But it certainly seemed as if they had. Though he had once known these streamlined hallways like those in his family's house, he now felt utterly lost.

  Pausing at an intersection, he looked first one way and then the other. Which way to go? He wasn't at all sure. And the fact that he was drawing curious looks from passing crew members didn't make it any easier to figure things out.

  Finally, Picard chose a direction and proceeded down the corridor. After a moment or two, it looked promising. And then, at long last, he saw the set of doors that he'd been looking for.

  As he approached triumphantly, they opened and he prepared to confront Riker... but found himself staring into one of the transporter rooms instead of Ten-Forward. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned away and resumed his ever more frustrating search.

  Continuing down the corridor, he decided that this time he was going in the right direction. But when he came to another intersection, he found himself flustered again. It was no use. Everything looked too much like everything else. How ridiculous, he thought... he couldn't find his way in a ship he had once commanded.

  Finally, he stopped a passing ensign. "How do I. how do I get to Ten-Forward?" he asked.

  The young man couldn't help but stare at Picard's garb. Still, he was helpful enough to point at the ceiling.

  "Two decks up, sir. You want section zero-zero-five."

  "Thank you," the captain told him. Pulling his nightclothes more closely about him, as if trying to gather up the last, remaining shreds of his dignity, he headed back in the direction of the nearest turbolift.

  Sitting there in Ten-Forward, considering the rueful expression on Admiral Riker's face, Data couldn't help but reflect that there were areas of human nature he might never fully understand.

  "Oh, my god," said Beverly.

  It was her tone of voice, as much as the actual words, that caused Data to turn and follow her gesture. When he had done so, he clearly saw the reason for her exclamation.

  Captain Picard had entered Ten-Forward in his nightclothes. It was a remarkably inappropriate act; even Data could see that. By comparison, the gray streak in his hair was a thing of great subtlety.

  The captain moved directly to the table occupied by Worf and Admiral Riker. His eyes were wide with excitement.

  "Will!" he cried. "I know what's happening... I know what causes the anomaly. We have to go back!" The admiral just stared at him, openmouthed. Before he knew it, Data found himself approaching the table. Geordi and Dr. Crusher were not far behind him, motivated by concern for their former leader.

  By the time they got there, Riker was shaking his head in disbelief. "Listen, Jean-Luc. The only place you're going is back to bed."

  The captain was frantic. He shook his fists at the air.

  "Dammit, Will, I know what's going on. We're causing the anomaly... with a... with the tachyon pulse. It happened in all three... in all three... We did it in all three time periods!"

  Dr. Crusher placed her hand on Picard's shoulder. "Jean-Luc, you'd better come with me."

  But the captain jerked away from her. "Leave me alone!" he croaked. "I'm not crazy."

  Data had his doubts about that. It seemed that Picard was farther gone than he had thought.

  "The tachyon pulses," the older man ranted. "They were used in the same spot. The same location in all three time periods... don't you see?"

  The doctor tried again to calm him down. "Jean-Luc... please..."

  But Picard persisted. "When the tachyon pulse used the... I mean, when the Pasteur used the tachyon pulse, we set the... you know, we... we started everything. We set it in motion."

  The android felt badly for him. He knew what it was like to lose one's faculties. There had been several times during his stint on the Enterprise when he'd been partially or completely incapacitated.

  However, those had been temporary conditions. He had never had to endure a slow and painful deterioration, as in the captain's case—or to face the certainty that, one day, he would lose his faculties entirely.

  "It's like... the chicken and the egg!" rambled Picard. "You think it started back then... but it didn't. It started here, in the future. That's why... why it gets larger in the past..."

  Larger in the past...?

  The android tilted his head slightly as he considered that. How strange. Though it seemed to be merely a component of a sick man's ravings, there was a certain logic to the statement as well.

  Was it possible that the captain knew what he was talking about after all7 Data thought for a moment— and only a moment. He was, after all, an artificial intelligence.

  Admiral Riker hit his corem badge. "Riker to security. We have a problem in Ten-Forward. Send a team to—"

  Data spoke up. "Just a moment, sir. I believe I understand what the captain is saying."

  The admiral looked at him. "You do?"

  "Yes. If I'm not mistaken, he is describing a paradox."

  Picard held his trembling fists out to the android. "Yes! Yes, exactly!"

  Data began to pace. He had become accustomed to doing his best thinking that way. And besides, it seemed like a very professorial thing to do.

  "Let us assume for the moment," he said, "that the captain has indeed been traveling through time. Let us also assume he has initiated an inverse tachyon pulse at the same location in space in all three time periods."

  "Go on," instructed Geordi. Obviously, he was intrigued, now that Data had gotten into the act.

  "In that case," the android continued, "it is possible that the tachyon beams could've transited through the subspace barrier and caused an anti-time rupture. This rupture would manifest itself as a spatial anomaly."

  "Right," said the former chief engineer. "I see where you're going. The anomaly is an eruption of anti-time ... and because it operates in the opposite way normal time does, the effects would run backward through the space-time continuum."

  "Yes!" rasped Picard. "That's why the anomaly was larger in the past... than in the future. It was growing as it traveled backward through time."

  The doctor shook her head. "Wait a minute. We didn't see any evidence of an anti-time reaction in the Devron system."

  "Not yet!" insisted the captain. "Chicken and the egg! You see?"

  "Indeed," agreed Data.

  It was remarkable how all Picard's seeming fantasies were coming together. He wished that he had seen the solution earlier.

  "In a true paradox," he explained, "effect sometimes precedes cause. Therefore, the anomaly the captain saw in the past existed before we came to the Devron system and initiated the tachyon pulse."

  They all looked at one another. "All right," said Riker. "Let's say, for the moment, you're on the money. How do we prove any of this?"

  "Go back," the captain advised. "Go back to the Devron system. It'll be there this time—I know it."

  Data looked at the others. "He may be right. If our tachyon pulse contributed to a rupture in the fabric of anti-time, it may not have developed immediately. A return to the Devron system might show us the initial formation of the anomaly."

  It was up to the admiral
. Knowing that, everyone looked at him, waiting to see what he would do. After a long beat, he hit his comm badge.

  "Riker to bridge. Set course for the Devron system. Maximum warp."

  "Aye, sir," came the voice that Data now recognized as that of Lieutenant Gaines.

  In the next moment, the admiral was on his feet, leading them to the exit. Everyone except Worf followed —causing Riker to stop and look back.

  "Worf, we could use a hand," he said simply.

  Worf considered for a moment, then followed.

  CHAPTER 23

  It felt good to be back in his clothes again, thought Picard. It was bad enough to be a little crazy. Looking the part only made matters that much worse.

  As he stood on the bridge with Riker, Beverly, Data, Worf, and Geordi, he could almost imagine it was twenty-five years ago, and he was once again in his prime. Then, he had been the man on whom the fates of more than a thousand people depended. Now, he was lucky to have established some control over his own, meager existence.

  "Entering the Devron system," announced the man at tactical. What was his name again?

  "Thank you, Mr. Gaines," said Riker. "All stop."

  That's right, Picard told himself. It was Gaines. He would do his best not to forget again—though he knew better than to make any promises in this time period.

  Data, who had taken up a position next to La Forge at one of the aft consoles, looked up from his monitor.

  "Sensors are picking up a small temporal anomaly off the port bow," he reported.

  A... temporal anomaly? Then there was one in this time period. Picard felt that he was on the verge of being vindicated.

  "On screen," ordered the admiral. His tone indicated that he wasn't quite ready to believe it.

  But a moment later, the proof was handed to him on a latinum platter. Or, to be more accurate about it, on the viewscreen—where they could now make out a very small version of the anomaly.

  Picard nodded. He had been right. But he didn't feel victorious—just vastly relieved.

  "It's an anti-time eruption, all right," called Geordi, who'd scanned it. "It seems to have formed in the last six hours." He paused, calling for more information from the sensors. "And it's getting bigger."

  "We can't let that happen," said Picard. "We've got to stop it here in the future... so it won't be able to travel back through time.... " Riker looked at him. He knew better now than to believe the captain was just raving.

  He turned to the android. "All right, Data. We need a solution and we need it fast." The professor looked up from his monitor. As always, he seemed to have a response on the tip of his tongue.

  "Since this anomaly has been formed by a convergence of tachyon pulses from three different time periods," he reasoned, "my first suggestion would be to shut down the pulses in the other two time periods."

  A good idea, thought Picard. "The next time I'm there," he promised, "that's the first thing I'll do."

  "But in case that doesn't work," the admiral added, "we're going to need a fallback solution."

  Data nodded. "Understood, sir. I'm on it."

  As the android went back to work, Beverly moved to Picard's side. "Jean-Luc," she said, "you look tired. Why don't you sit down?"

  "Beverly," he rasped, "don't nursemaid me."

  "It's not nursemaiding," she argued. "It's helping you to apply your resources more efficiently."

  "Nursemaiding," Picard insisted volubly. Moving away from her…

  ... he saw that he was back at the aft consoles with Geordi and Data. Back in the present.

  "Data," he snapped, seeing his opportunity.

  "Disengage the tachyon pulse. Quickly."

  The android looked up at him. "Sir?"

  "Just do it," demanded the captain. "The convergence of tachyon pulses from the three time periods is what's causing the anomaly."

  Data considered the implications at a speed even a computer might have envied. "Aye, sir," he responded, and got to work. "Tachyon pulse disengaged," he announced.

  "Is there any change in the anomaly?" Picard asked…

  ... and found himself in his command chair, addressing the Data of the past—who was looking back over his shoulder from his position at ops. "No, sir," the android reported.

  "Disengage the tachyon pulse," commanded the captain.

  Data seemed about to ask a question, but refrained.

  Turning to his console, he performed the necessary manipulations.

  After a moment, Picard asked, "Is it disengaged?" The android swiveled again in his seat. "Aye, sir.

  However, it appears not to have had any measurable effect." Picard frowned…

  ... and realized he was back in the future—though he was still sitting in the captain's chair. Immediately, he turned to his former comrades.

  "I've shut off the tachyon pulses," he announced. "The ones in the other time periods."

  This drew a few curious looks from the others, but no one called him crazy—or even suggested it. Apparently, they now accepted that he was traveling through time.

  Picard fixed his gaze on Data. In the past, the android had informed him that their disengagement had had no effect—at least, none that was immediately apparent.

  Perhaps in this time frame, it would be different: "What's happening with... with regard to the anomaly, Data?"

  The android shook his head. "It is still growing larger," he reported with some reluctance.

  "But Captain Picard has shut off the pulses," remarked Worf.

  "True," said Data. "However, his actions do not seem to have created the desired effect." Picard cursed inwardly. He had been so certain that it would work.

  "What do we do?" asked Beverly.

  La Forge let out a sigh of exasperation. "The only way to stop this thing is to repair the rupture at its focal point... where time and anti-time are converging."

  "And how do we do that?" inquired Riker.

  "It would require taking the ship into the anomaly," replied the android. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were lecturing one of his classes instead of facing a threat to the very fabric of reality. "Once inside," he went on, "we may be able to use our engines to create a static warp shell." La Forge nodded. "Yes... and the shell would act like a new subspace barrier—separating time and anti-time."

  "Exactly," said Data. "Collapsing the anomaly and ... restoring the normal flow of time." He turned to Picard. "But this would have to be done in the other two time periods, as well."

  The captain considered the prospect. "That could be a problem," he decided. "The anomaly's so much larger in the other two time periods..."

  "... it could be difficult to take the ship in." He'd already finished his sentence before he looked up and saw that he was in the past again. Everyone on the bridge was looking at him.

  "Take the ship in where, sir?" asked O'Brien.

  Picard took a moment to make his decision. "Into the anomaly, Chief. Lay in a course to the exact center." His officers were shocked.

  "Captain," said Tasha, "you can't be serious. The energies in that thing could—"

  The captain whirled. "I know that no one here understands this—but it is vital that we take the ship to the center of that phenomenon and create a static warp shell."

  "A warp shell...?" Troi repeated. She didn't look confident that such a thing could even be done.

  "The endeavor you describe would place the ship at great risk," Data pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily.

  "Yes," Picard admitted freely. "That's true. But you must believe I am doing this for a greater purpose." He paused, wondering how to convey the importance of what he was asking of them. It wouldn't be easy.

  "The stakes," he said, "are larger than any of you can imagine. The very existence of humanity depends on what we do here today."

  The captain scanned their faces, one after the other. He had yet to sway them; he could see that. They were confused, uncertain of what to do next.

  He knew that he h
ad to make a connection with them—with each of them. But surely, if anyone could do that, he could.

  After all, he had served with them already, in the not-so-distant future. He had come to know what motivated them, what made them defy the odds in situation after situation.

  With that in mind, he now asked himself what sort of words were most likely to assuage their uncertainty. And, even more quickly than he might have hoped, the answer came to him.

  He wouldn't try to win them over with abstract concepts of duty and survival. He would appeal to their pride in their abilities, to their sense of loyalty, to their hearts—and then he would hope for the best.

  "You all have doubts about me," he acknowledged in stentorian tones. "About one another... about this ship. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to dispel them. All I can say is that, even though we've only been together for a short time, I know that you are the finest crew in the fleet."

  At any rate, he had their attention. Each bridge officer was gazing at him intently now, weighing his or her assessment of him against the incredible and daring nature of his request.

  "I would gladly trust any one of you with my life," the captain told them. "I would do so in any circumstance, at any place and time, without reservation." He looked into their eyes, hoping he'd accomplished what he needed to--but he couldn't be sure. "I can only hope," he entreated, "that you have that same trust in me… that you are able to make the leap of faith I am asking of you, regardless of the consequences." For a time, there was silence on the bridge. Glances were exchanged, consensuses reached. Then, almost as one, the entire bridge contingent started working at their various tasks.

  That was their answer. Not a cheer of approval, not a roaring vote of confidence, but a simple demonstration of professionalism that spoke more loudly than voices ever could.

  Picard was touched. He smiled with satisfaction. The team had come together at last, hadn't it? And not a moment too soon.

  CHAPTER 24

  Picard watched his bridge officers go into action like a well-oiled machine.