"Shields up," Tasha told him. "Maximum strength."
"Boosting field integrity on the warp nacelles," advised Worf. "We may encounter unexpected stress once we enter the anomaly."
"I am preparing to initiate a static warp shell," said Data.
"Course laid in, sir," called O'Brien.
Troi glanced at the monitor built into her armrest.
"All decks report ready, Captain."
Picard surveyed his crew. He was proud of them. Damned proud.
"All right, Chief O'Brien." He sat down in his seat and leaned back. "Take us into..."
"... the anomaly."
"Captain," said Data, swiveling in his seat. "I have an idea." Picard wondered at the android's timing—until he realized that he was in the present again. "Yes, Mr. Data. What is it?"
"Sir, if we take the ship to the center of the anomaly and create a static warp shell..."
The captain saw where he was headed. "It could repair the barrier and collapse the anomaly."
The android seemed surprised. "Yes, sir."
Picard nodded. "I must tell you, Mr. Data—you're a clever man in any time period."
Data tilted his head slightly. "Thank you, sir. It is kind of you to say so."
Returning his attention to the viewscreen, the captain said, "Lay in a course to the center of the anomaly. Prepare to initiate a static warp shell." The temporal shifts were coming so fast and furious now, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he…
... shifted into one of the other time periods.
Sure enough, in the blink of an eye, the image on the viewscreen had changed. The anomaly had diminished to almost nothing—alerting Picard to the fact that he was new in the future.
"The other two Enterprises," he announced to all and sundry. "They're on their way." Riker nodded. "Very well." Turning to the officer at conn, he said, "Ensign Genovese... take us in."
The Enterprise began moving toward the anomaly. Closer... and closer still... until the light dampers in the viewscreen could barely handle the level of illumination.
Picard swallowed. After all this, he hoped that he hadn't miscalculated somehow. The Irumodic syndrome wouldn't let him live all that much longer, but all those around him had plenty of time left.
La Forge had a family. Data had his students. Riker was a key man in the Starfleet hierarchy.
He didn't want to be the death of them mespecially if it was all for…
... nothing.
Without warning, he found himself back in the past.
This Enterprise, too, was headed into the anomaly.
His bridge officers were tense, even afraid, as they approached the unknown. But that didn't stop them from following his orders.
Closer... closer... into the Valley of Death? Or Salvation? They would find out soon enough.
O'Brien shifted in his chair. "We're entering the leading edge of the anomaly, sir."
"All hands brace for impact!" called the captain.
The ship rocked violently. All around the bridge, lights flickered. Deck plates shrieked with the strain.
"The temporal energy's interfering with main power," reported Tasha. "Switching to auxiliary..." Another jolt, worse than the first…
... and before Picard could recover, he was in the present again. In this time period, the anomaly had already filled the viewscreen. "Report!" roared Riker.
The ship was shuddering, a hint that the forces it strove against might simply be too powerful for it. Lights died and came alive again all over the bridge. They were pushing the Enterprise to her limits.
"I'm having trouble keeping the impulse engines on-line!" yelled Geordi. "We've got power fluctuations all across the board!"
"Maintain course and speed!" shouted the captain. He turned to his second officer. "Mr. Data, how long until we reach the center?"
The android hung on as the ship lurched again beneath them. "Another thirty seconds at least, sir."
Picard turned back to the viewscreen…
... where the anomaly didn't quite fill the screen. But then, why should it? In this future era, it was smaller, and they hadn't quite entered it yet.
As they got closer, Picard felt the deck tremble and hugged one of his armrests. His foresight was rewarded as the Enterprise bucked and heaved, throwing several crewmen to the deck.
This wasn't the place for an old man, he acknowledged ruefully. This wasn't the place for anyone. And yet, what choice did they have?
"We've entered the anomaly," called Gaines.
As if to underline the statement, Data looked over his shoulder and said, "We are approaching the focal point, sir." Of course, this wasn't the Data of the future. It was the Data of the past, doggedly manning his ops station as they fought their way to the heart of the sprawling, seething anomaly.
"Ten seconds," the android announced. "Nine… Eight..."
Gritting his teeth, the captain watched his officers make adjustment after adjustment, utilizing every strategy they knew to keep the Enterprise on course and her engines on-line.
"Seven… Six… Five..." continued Data.
A little longer now. That was all he asked. A few more seconds and they would at least have a fighting chance.
The android went on with his countdown. "Four…Three…Two..."
And then they'd done it. They'd reached the center of the anomaly.
"One," called Data.
The onslaught of temporal energies was even fiercer here; they could barely keep their feet, much less concentrate on their controls. Up on the viewscreen, there was a pure, white light, as intense as the dawn of creation and unblemished by the merest hint of color.
Picard cried out, "Initiate warp shell!"
An island of calm in a sea of confusion, the android labored to comply with the captain's order.
... and called back, "Initiating static warp shell— now." Suddenly, things had changed. Picard was back in the present, where a tiny bead of perspiration was making its way down Will Riker's face, and where Ensign Calan's shoulders were bunched together so tightly it hurt just to look at her.
The present... where Data was single-mindedly applying himself to his lonely task, and where the captain himself wished desperately to remain for a little while.
Then again, he thought, for that very reason it probably...
…wouldn't last.
He looked around, aware that he'd shifted again. But where this time? Or rather, when?
The blinding brilliance put out by the viewscreen didn't allow him to see much. But judging by the cloudiness of his mind, it was the future.
Another jolt, and Picard was half-torn out of his seat.
As he dragged himself back in, he heard Riker's voice. It cut through the clamor like a klaxon.
"Is it having any effect?" he asked.
Another switch—this time, to the past. The captain could tell by his uniform, even if he couldn't see much else.
As in the other two time frames, the ship was tossing like a leaf in a hurricane. Beside him, Troi's eyes were wide with barely contained fear.
"Something is happening within the anomaly," Data declared from his post at ops. "A new subspace barrier appears to be forming.... "
Tasha cried out, "Captain! Sensors are picking up two other ships...!"
Everyone's eyes were drawn to the viewscreen, where they saw a spectacle that seemed to defy reality. In the midst of the roiling display of temporal energies, Picard could see the ghostly images of two other Enterprises.
The ships were drifting in the anomaly, remarkably close to each other. In fact, as the captain peered at them from the command center, they actually appeared to be moving through each other.
His mouth went dry as he…
... joined the bridge contingent in the present.
Like everyone else, he was peering at the viewscreen —where two other Enterprises were being tossed about in the anomaly's temporal maelstrom.
As his mind reeled from the a
cceleration of his time-shifting, Picard could scarcely…
... remember where he was—until he turned and saw the gray-bearded Admiral Riker sitting next to him. Like everyone else, he was fascinated by the sight of two other Enterprises on the viewscreen.
The past and the present had finally caught up with them, at least here in the confines of the anomaly…
... where the present and the future seemed to have met them head-on.
"It appears to be working," shouted Tasha, intent on her tactical monitors. "The anomaly is beginning to collapse. I think that..." She hesitated, and he turned. For a moment, their eyes met, and he knew that the news wouldn't be good.
"Sir," she cried, her brow creased with concern, "the temporal energy is disrupting our warp containment system!"
Picard swore. That was the only problem they couldn't take in stride, the only puzzle they couldn't find a solution for.
"We must eject the core!" thundered Worf.
"No!" bellowed the captain. "We have to maintain the static warp shell for as long as possible!"
The ship staggered and quaked under the temporal onslaught. Picard couldn't look directly at the viewscreen, lest it blind him.
'Tin losing containment!" barked Tasha, her eyes wide with expectation. "I can't stop it. It's going to—"
Back in the present, Picard's eyes were fixed on the viewscreen. Through the chaos of the anomaly, he saw one of the two other Enterprises engulfed in a conflagration of flames and debris. And having just been on board the doomed vessel, he knew which one it was.
Filled with a sense of immeasurable loss, he wished he had time to mourn staunch, loyal Tasha and the young, headstrong Worf... or Troi of that time frame, or O'Brien. As it was, he could only do his best to make sure they hadn't died for nothing.
Quickly, he turned to Geordi, reluctant to make the same mistake twice. "Transfer emergency power to the antimatter containment system!"
The chief engineer worked frantically at his console. "I'm trying, sir... but there's a lot of interference.... "
The ship lurched and swung, jerking them out of their seats. As the captain got to his feet, he heard Data say, "The warp shells are definitely having an effect, sir. The anomaly is beginning to collapse."
"Maintain position!" Picard bellowed. "At all costs, maintain position! Mr. La Forge—"
As he clung to his armrests with aged, blue-veined hands, Picard could see the Enterprise of the present go up in a ball of fiery energies. The significance of it hit him square in the chest, with the impact of a phaser beam set to stun.
Will and Deanna, cut down in their prime. The same with Worf and Data and Geordi, never to know what life might have had in store for them. And Beverly... who would never have to put up with a husband named Picard.
"Damn," he muttered, reeling at the thought of it. Then, driven by curiosity and dread, he turned.
And saw them all around him. All of them except Deanna, of course. Beverly and Riker and Worf, La Forge and Data... they were all very much alive, here in the future.
But how could that be? How could they still exist when they had watched their younger selves perish? Their continued presence here defied the laws of time and space.
Then he remembered something that someone had said... in the observation lounge, perhaps. In the present... or was it the past? Something about a lack of causality among the three timelines.
In other words, each Enterprise could have existed independently of the others, unrelated by conditions and events. And judging by the way things had turned out, that was exactly the way it had been.
Abruptly, Picard caught sight of something in the comer of his eye. Glancing to one side of the command center, he felt himself blanch.
There was a tall figure standing there in black robes, with a scythe resting on his shoulder and an hourglass in his hand. At first glance, he thought it was truly the Grim Reaper.
Then, as the foreboding figure turned to look at him, he saw a familiar face in the depths of its cowl—and realized that it was Q. Apparently, the entity had come to torment them in their darkest hour.
As Q smiled, Picard glared at him with overpowering hatred. How could anyone derive so much pleasure from a lesser being's misery? How could he be so callous, so cruel?
"Two down, Jean-Luc," remarked Q. "And one to go..."
Picard swallowed his anger. He couldn't afford the distraction. "Not now, Q!"
He turned to Data, who was still at his station.
Gathering his strength, he yelled over the rising din, "Report!"
"The anomaly is nearly collapsed..." said the android, the calmness of his voice belying the urgency of his statement.
"We're losing containment..." warned Geordi.
"We have to hang on!" cried Picard, his voice cracking. "We have to hang on as long as we can!"
Q leaned closer to the captain. Apparently, no one else on the bridge could see or hear him.
"Good-bye, Jean-Luc," he said in earnest tones. "I'll miss you, you know. You did have a great deal of potential... of entertainment value. But as you can see, all good things must come to an end."
Geordi shook his head, not liking what he saw on his monitor. "Containment field at critical! Captain, I'm losing it—"
Picard had heard those words before. As he braced himself for the ensuing explosion... for failure on a cosmic scale, for the end of things, for the cloying embrace of chaos... something different happened.
The Enterprise didn't explode at all. It hung there, frozen in a moment of time, with the bridge crew and his comrades exchanging final glances. And as that moment stretched out as no moment had a right to, the anomaly collapsed inward on itself.
The captain saw it on the viewscreen—or rather, an aspect of it, because they were too close to get any real perspective on the spectacle. It was as if the physical representations of temporal disorder were folding in on themselves like an accordion... completely and infinitely, finally and irrevocably.
Of course, for Picard and the others, the outcome was the same: death... destruction... annihilation. But maybe, just maybe, they had saved the race of humanoids who had given birth to them... the hopeful, hopeless beings who had climbed from their murky pools one day in order to get a glimpse of the stars.
In the end, all was white. And silent. And strangely, wonderfully, hideously at rest.
CHAPTER 25
"Jean-Luc?"
Picard looked up and found himself standing alone in a courtroom. And not just any courtroom, but the twenty-first-century chamber in which Q had tried him seven years ago.
Of course, some things had changed. He was dressed in his "present-day" uniform. The gallery of leering, hungry-eyed gawkers was gone.
And though the captain had distinctly heard Q's voice, Q himself was nowhere to be seen.
"Up here," said the voice. This time, it sounded more than a little exasperated.
He looked up—and saw Q descending, as if from the ether, on his floating cushion. He was dressed in his flowing judge's robes again.
Q studied him. "The Continuum didn't think you had it in you, Jean-Lue. But I knew you could."
Picard felt his heart leap. "Are you saying it worked? Did we shut down the anomaly?"
Judge Q shook his head. "Is that all this meant to you? Just another spatial anomaly... just another day at the office?"
The captain took an angry step toward his nemesis. "Q," he rumbled, "did it work or didn't it?"
Q held his hands out, as if the answer had been in front of him all along. "You're here, aren't you? You're talking to me, aren't you? Albeit, I'll admit, without making much sense."
Picard considered the essence of the remark. He was here. He was talking. Then... could it be they had won? But.
"What about my crew?" he asked. "In fact, what about all three of my crews?"
Again, Q took on that expression of derision. "Is that all you can think about?" He spoke mockingly, imitating the captain's question
s. "'The anomaly... my crew... my ship.' I suppose you're worried about your damned fish, too."
The entity snorted. "Well, if it puts your mind at ease, you've saved humanity once again. Congratulations are in order. Hip, hip, hooray." Slowly, scornfully, Q clapped his hands in feigned celebration. "But I must say," he continued, "I'm a little disappointed in you."
Picard chuckled dryly. "Oh, no… not that. Heaven forfend."
Q's expression hardened. "You really don't know what just happened, do you?" he asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "You're still the same primitive little man I met seven years ago. Same limited vision, same inflexible perceptions of the universe." He harrumphed. "I never should have been so generous."
"Generous?" echoed the captain, tilting his head to show his skepticism. "In what way?"
Q was clearly angry now. "That's right, Picard. Generous. It was my generosity that enabled you to travel through time. If I hadn't stepped in and given you that chance—the opportunity to see what should have been obvious to you all along—you and your pitiful race would be deceased. Extinct. Kaput. Finito. Just another dead end along the evolutionary-chain highway."
The captain had no reason to disbelieve him. Though Q often dealt in half-truths and exaggerations, baldfaced lies just weren't his style.
And if he had endowed Picard with the ability to time-skip... if it was his intervention that had given mankind a shot at survival... then the captain's duty was clear.
Putting his animosity aside, he smiled... looked Q in his baleful eyes... and said, "Thank you."
The Q entity looked back at him, uncharacteristically off-balance. "What... did you say?" he stammered.
"I won't tell you again," Picard replied. "But you're right—you did give me a chance. And I do appreciate it."
Q smiled back. "I will say this for you, Jean-Luc… you always have been full of surprises." He leaned forward on his floating cushion. "So surprise me again. Tell me you've taken something more away from this experience. Say you've expanded your horizons just the tiniest, little bit."
Star Trek - [TNG] - All Good Things... Page 17