by Gene DeWeese
The featureless cell vanished, replaced in the blink of an eye by the interior of the Goddard. Both men stepped off the transporter pads and hurried to the controls.
“I don’t suppose you can mask our warp trail,” Kirk said hopefully as Scotty raised the Goddard’s shields.
“A wee bit, but likely not enough to—”
Scotty broke off as he glanced at the viewscreen.
A ghostly image flickered in and out of existence. Remembering that he had left the sensors set to detect the cloaked Bounty 2, he thought for an instant that it had reappeared. But this was a totally different ship, squat like the Wisdom but with sharper edges.
“Scotty, what the devil is that?” Kirk asked. “And that,” he added a moment later, pointing at a tiny, lifepod-size vessel, uncloaked.
Scotty didn’t answer, just began tweaking the sensor parameters the same way he had done when he’d been looking for the Bounty 2.
Within seconds, the ghostly image steadied, though it didn’t become any less ghostly.
“Whatever it is,” Scotty said, scowling, “it’s using a primitive Klingon cloaking device. And its weapons are charging, almost ready to fire.”
“What kind—” Kirk began but broke off as he saw the indications on the screen himself.
Disruptors—trained directly on the Wisdom.
“Sarek’s ship is lowering its shields,” Scotty exclaimed. “They’re tryin’ to beam someone off that lifepod!”
His eyes darting back to the sensor readings, Kirk saw that the cloaked ship’s disruptors were now almost fully charged.
Suddenly, memories of Spock and Sarek—his Sarek—flashed through his mind, and he realized the truth: If there was anyone he should instinctively trust in any situation, in any universe, it was them.
“Hail them!” Kirk almost shouted, but Scotty was already initiating a signal that would blanket all frequencies in both normal space and subspace.
The ghost image of the cloaked ship and the lifepod vanished into chaos that quickly resolved itself into the same image of the Wisdom’s bridge they had seen just before they had been beamed into the dungeon. Sarek, standing behind a Tellarite at what looked to be transporter controls, turned abruptly toward the viewscreen.
“Sarek!” Kirk shouted. “Raise your shields! There’s a cloaked ship out here about to fire on you!”
Sarek froze but only for a moment. Even as he opened his mouth to demand to know how this so-called Terran had escaped, a flood of memories—false memories—darted through his mind, as if crying out for his attention. False memories that, he suddenly realized, he had been purposely shunting aside, not only because of the pain they brought him but because of the shamefully illogical actions he himself had taken in them.
But now…
Now they held a message.
An urgent message telling him that, regardless of the logic of the situation, he should place his trust in these beings, no matter who or what they claimed to be.
“Raise the shields, Commander,” he ordered, then looked toward the Narisian. “Tell Zarcot to stand by.”
Virtually simultaneously, the shields flickered into life and a Cardassian cruiser wavered into existence less than a dozen kilometers away, its disruptor banks spewing out destruction.
The Wisdom, more than twice the size of its attacker, lurched slightly, then steadied as its shields reached full strength.
“Target their weapons,” the Romulan commander snapped, but before the Wisdom’s phasers could be powered up to fire, the Cardassian ship sped away on full impulse. Before tractor beams could be brought to bear, it was out of range. An instant later, it vanished with a blinding flash as its warp drive engaged.
Sarek thought briefly of pursuing the fleeing ship but decided against it, signaling Varkan to stand down. He was virtually certain what Zarcot’s plan had been and that, thanks to the Terrans’ interference, it had failed and would not soon be resurrected. If the Wisdom had been destroyed—by the Vortex, as far as anyone on distant Alliance Prime would ever know—Zarcot would have returned, claiming that his warnings about the Vortex had been confirmed. He would doubtless have been hailed as a prophet and allowed, perhaps even “forced” to take Sarek’s place on the Council.
Sarek turned back to the viewscreen where the one called Kirk still waited tensely. “Are there more such vessels nearby?”
“None that we can detect,” Kirk said, and Sarek caught a glimpse of the other ex-prisoner in the background.
“I will require an explanation of these events,” Sarek said.
“Of course. If you promise not to put us in the lockup again.”
Sarek didn’t hesitate in his reply. “You have my word. In any event, I have other use for the ‘lockup,’ as you call it.”
He turned to the Romulan commander. “Transport ex-Councilman Zarcot aboard,” he said, “directly to Interrogation. I will deal with him when I have concluded discussions with our other visitors. And contact Deputy Arbiter Koval on Alliance Prime. There is much I must tell him.”
Seventeen
WITH A mixture of relief and renewed apprehension, Picard heard the door close behind him, cutting off the doubtlessly curious gazes of virtually everyone on the bridge.
Guinan—this timeline’s Guinan—stood in the middle of the room, almost precisely where her counterpart had stood a few subjective days earlier, a few very real decades in the future. This Guinan was even more uneasy than the other had been, or perhaps she just didn’t conceal it as well.
“In your world, did we meet again?” she asked abruptly. “As you promised we would?”
The question took him by surprise, but it also, he realized with another gust of relief a moment later, resolved his own dilemma. When she had first appeared on the transporter pad, he had had to restrain himself from asking similarly obvious questions. If she had never before laid eyes on him in this timeline, such questions would brand him as a madman in her eyes, and that was the last thing he wanted. If anyone in this timeline knew what had brought about the change, it almost certainly would be her, and he would need her trust in order to get such information. She, however, like his Guinan, apparently had no concerns about what people thought of her. Or, in this particular instance, she was simply too curious to care.
“We did,” he said. “And did our first meeting take place in your universe the same as it did in mine? In San Francisco? In the 1890s?”
He could see the tension drain from her face and body as she nodded. “In a manner of speaking,” she said. “I don’t actually remember it happening, but I remember remembering it, if that makes any sense. I’d always assumed it was a dream, but now I don’t know what it was. I don’t suppose you have an explanation?”
He smiled. “Just that you’re a very remarkable…being, perhaps even more remarkable than you know. Tell me, do you occasionally feel impelled to do or say things for which you can find no logical reason?”
Her eyes narrowed and some of the tension returned to her stance. “How did you know?” she asked, a new suspicion in her tone. “I haven’t told even Tal about that. ”
“It’s all right,” he said, still smiling. “I suspect it’s because I’ve probably known you—your counterpart in my universe—longer than you’ve known Tal. And Romulans, particularly Romulans in the military, are often more rigid in their thinking than humans, more likely to dismiss such things out of hand. But it is true, then?”
She nodded, looking around uneasily. “It was one of those…impulses that brought us here, in fact, although Tal doesn’t realize it, of course. Should I assume that this…other Guinan has acted on similar impulses?”
He nodded. “She has. They’ve saved my life more than once.”
“You believe in them, then?”
“I don’t have a choice. She’s been proven right time and again.”
“So have I. It’s the only reason Tal tolerates me, I think. But you were right about his rigidity. Luckily he has encountered e
nough beings with ‘legitimate’ mental powers such as telepathy and precognition to accept the idea that my occasional ‘advice’ comes from a similar source. But tell me, did your Guinan come with you on your quest to find a way to defeat the Borg? Is she here? On this ship?”
Before Picard could devise an answer, he was interrupted by Data’s voice coming from his combadge. “Captain, the level of chronometric radiation is increasing.”
“Thank you, Mr. Data. I’m on my way.” Picard had turned toward the door while he spoke but now he turned back to Guinan for a moment. “Wait here if you like,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Striding toward the door, he wondered if the rise in radiation level was good news or bad. If it meant the appearance or approach of another “chronologically alien” object, it might mean Captain Scott was finally about to put in an appearance despite all the logical reasons why it was impossible, but—
He lurched to a stop as the door hissed open and he almost bumped into someone about to step into the ready room.
Guinan.
The Guinan from his universe, about to come face to face with her counterpart.
That could certainly account for the chronometric radiation, he thought, wondering what the readings would have been if anyone had been monitoring them when he’d met his own future self in the El-Baz five years ago.
He stepped to one side and turned in time to see this timeline’s Guinan’s eyes widen in something that wasn’t quite surprise. The Guinan in the doorway was smiling faintly, looking more relaxed than she had at any time since the Enterprise had emerged in this timeline.
“I presume,” he said, easing past the Guinan in the doorway and onto the bridge, “no introductions are necessary.”
On the bridge everyone’s eyes but Data’s were once more on the door to the captain’s ready room as it hissed shut, leaving the two Guinans inside, alone.
“Mr. Data?”
“The new chronometric radiation has leveled off, Captain. It is also extremely localized, unlike the other radiation, which extends at least as far as our sensors can reach. The new radiation appears to be centered—”
“—on the Enterprise itself,” Picard interrupted, “perhaps specifically on my ready room.” So much for any hopes that Captain Scott was about to appear.
“Exactly, sir, and it decreases rapidly with distance.” Data studied the readouts another moment. “Now it is decreasing overall.”
Picard glanced back at the ready room door. “They’re just getting used to each other, I imagine, Mr. Data.”
Or merging into the single being they had once been, he thought uneasily, wondering what Data’s “basic theory” had to say about such things but not really wanting to know.
Kirk’s eyes widened in startled amusement as the door to Sarek’s luxurious quarters on the Wisdom opened before the three of them.
“The furnishings are not of my choice,” Sarek said, stating the obvious.
“Somehow,” Kirk said with a faint smile, “I didn’t think they were.”
“Tell me, Kirk,” Sarek said virtually the moment the door slid shut behind them, “is Spock the name of the son you claim your Sarek has?”
The question jolted Scotty, reminding him of the “alternate universe” idea that Kirk had tricked Sarek into believing. But surely, he thought, after what had just happened, the captain was going to tell Sarek the truth. The whole truth.
“As a matter of fact,” Kirk said, “he is. But how did you know? Is that your son’s name?”
Obviously, Scotty realized with a sinking feeling, Kirk wasn’t quite ready for the whole truth yet.
“As I told you when you first suggested that your Sarek had a son, I have none, though once I did. He and his entire crew were killed by the Borg more than fifty years ago.”
“But his name was Spock?”
“It was not.”
“Then what—” Kirk began but broke off, his eyes widening in that look of sudden understanding that Scotty had seen so often before.
“Sybok,” Kirk said softly. “Of course.” When Sarek did not respond with a denial, Kirk went on: “If that’s true, how did you come up with the name Spock?”
“Answer my questions and I will answer yours,” Sarek said, his voice seeming even more toneless than before.
Scotty suppressed a grimace. If the captain kept this up…
Kirk shrugged. “Fair enough. Just remember, you told us a few minutes ago you weren’t playing Vulcan mind games with us.”
Sarek ignored the implied warning and asked: “Did the Sarek you know once request that you retrieve his son Spock’s body from a distant star system and return it to Vulcan?”
Scotty’s heart was suddenly pounding as violently as when he’d discovered a way out of their recent prison, but Kirk only nodded a wary affirmation.
Sarek went on. “Did you, at great risk to your own life and those of your crew, including Captain Scott here, do as that Sarek requested?”
Kirk nodded again. “Of course. Spock was—is one of my closest friends.”
“He was returned to life, then?”
“As you seem to know. Once we reached Vulcan with his body, you—that other Sarek—requested fal tor pan, a re-fusion of his regenerated body with his soul, his katra. Spock had given it over to another human friend shortly before his death.” Kirk paused, eying Sarek more closely. “Do you know—remember?—what that other Sarek said when the logic of his request for fal tor pan was questioned by his fellow Vulcans?”
Sarek was silent for several seconds, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.
“‘My logic falters where my son is concerned,’” he quoted, then watched as Kirk nodded. “It would appear,” he continued softly, “that logic falters as well when applied to the present situation.” Another extended moment of silence and then: “Is the one known as McCoy still well? Spock’s katra caused him no permanent ill effects?”
“He fully recovered.”
“That is good.” Yet another extended pause, as if the Vulcan knew where he logically had to go and yet still did not wish to go there.
“The fal tor pan was performed on Vulcan, as it had to be,” Sarek continued. “Then you returned to Terra—to Earth. Spock chose to return with you.”
Kirk nodded again. “You said you would tell us how you knew—”
“And I will. But there is one more question to answer.”
“What more do you want to have confirmed? You seem to know as much about those events as we do.”
“Instead of returning directly to Earth,” Sarek continued remorselessly, “you used your ship—a Klingon ship—to travel back in time approximately three hundred years. Is that also true?”
“We didn’t have a choice,” Kirk said. “Earth was being destroyed by an unstoppable alien vessel, more powerful even than the Borg. Apparently it was destroying the planet because we humans had caused whales to go extinct centuries before. Going back in time to retrieve a pair of whales was the only chance we had. If we hadn’t—”
“The reason is irrelevant,” Sarek interrupted. “The fact is, you did travel back in time.”
Kirk nodded. “We did.”
“Is that what you have also done now? Have you traveled through time again? Have you come from the future rather than the contemporary alternate reality you claim to be from?”
For a long moment there was total silence, Kirk’s eyes locked with Sarek’s as his mind undoubtedly raced to find a believable yet not quite true explanation that did not include the fact that they were here to erase this entire timeline.
Scotty, on the other hand, was suddenly almost limp with relief. The engineer had an instinctive distrust of politicians and diplomats and had always been uneasy whenever Kirk himself took on that role, even though this time, Scotty himself had initially encouraged him to do it.
“You always were too clever by half when you put on your diplomat’s hat,” he muttered to Kirk under his breat
h, then added aloud, “I believe ’tis time for a wee bit of the truth, Captain, now that Sarek’s figured it out for himself anyway.”
Without waiting for a reply, Scotty raised his eyes to meet Sarek’s.
“Captain Kirk’s not the bloody time traveler this time,” he said. “I am.”
The chronometric radiation was back to what Picard had come to think of as the normal background level for this apparently unstable timeline by the time the two Guinans emerged from his ready room, unsmiling, even somber.
“I will return to the D’Zidran,” one of them said. Picard assumed it was the one from this timeline, but even he couldn’t be sure. As far as physical appearance went, they could have switched clothes, differing primarily in color, and no one would have been the wiser. “I will ask Tal to get word to Alliance Prime asking to have every ship in the fleet be on the lookout for Captain Scott.”
“And it would be helpful, Captain,” the other Guinan said, “if you or Commander La Forge could give Tal the technical information the Alliance will need in order to adapt their sensors to detect Captain Scott’s ship, should he be using the cloaking device. Somehow, neither the Romulans nor the Klingons developed that form of cloaking here, only the interphase variety you already encountered.”
Picard nodded, not really surprised at the turn things had taken once Guinan—his Guinan—had stopped hiding and decided to talk to her counterpart. “Have Tal contact us as soon as one of you has had a chance to…explain the situation to him.” He turned toward the engineering station. “Commander La Forge, I assume you can have the necessary information ready to transmit.”
“From what I’ve seen of their sensor capabilities, the conversion shouldn’t be a problem, sir,” he said, no indication of approval or disapproval in his purposely neutral tone. “I can have the data assembled in a few minutes.”
Picard silently accompanied the two Guinans to the transporter room, where he watched the one who remained behind as she watched her almost-twin shimmer out of existence. In the turbolift on the way back to the bridge, he finally spoke.