“There isn’t much beyond this moment that I know anymore,” Q replied, slightly chagrined. “But I believe it is the safest point in terms of reducing the impact of your death upon your primary timeline without risking any alterations to the events in which your death was a significant factor.”
“I beg your pardon?” Kathryn asked.
“I’m sending you to the point where I believe you are needed most,” he simplified.
“You aren’t going with her?” Kes asked.
Q shook his head. “Not immediately. There’s something else I must know first.”
“Amanda?” Kathryn guessed.
“I can only think of one place to look, and if the record exists, it might help both of us better understand whatever this thing is.”
“All right.” Kathryn nodded.
“But as soon as I can, I’ll join you.” Turning to Kes, Q said, “If you’re not otherwise occupied?”
“I can’t,” Kes replied. “I must return to Ocampa.”
A wide smile creased Kathryn’s lips. “You went home?”
Kes nodded. “You wouldn’t recognize it. It’s so very beautiful.”
The thought of Kes returning to her people with her new powers and leading them into a better life than they had known under their Caretaker gave Kathryn a sense of the absolute rightness with which the multiverse sometimes functioned. But this was tempered by the memories of the last time she had actually seen Kes. She was inordinately pleased by the peace and serenity Kes embodied, but wondered at the journey it had taken to bring about this profound change.
Seeming to sense her thoughts, Kes said, “I’m so sorry about that. It wasn’t actually me. It was . . . part of me, but not . . .”
“A story for another time?” Kathryn guessed.
“Yes,” Kes said, obviously relieved. “She did come home, though, and died there in peace. My son—”
“Your son?” Kathryn gasped.
“Another long story,” Q interrupted.
Taking Kes’s face in both her hands and lingering briefly over her eyes, Kathryn quickly pulled her again into a brief hug. “Just promise me you’ll come back someday and tell me all about it?” she whispered.
“I promise,” Kes replied.
Kathryn released her and tugged fitfully on the bottom of her uniform jacket to straighten it. With a wink to Kes, she demanded of Q, “What are we waiting for?”
“I’ll see you soon,” Q said, and in a flash of white light, the meadow, he, and Kes were gone.
• • •
“What have you done?”
“Mother?”
“I give you a centimeter and you take a million light-years?”
“I did what I had to do. And I did it without breaking any of the Continuum’s rules.”
“Technically, but I don’t honestly think—”
“Q!”
“Oh, hello, Father.”
“Where is she?”
“Mother’s right here.”
“You know who I’m talking about. I thought we went over this. Which part of ‘we don’t bring dead people back to life’ were you unclear about?”
“I didn’t—”
“You’re about to be run out of the Continuum on a rail, son, and having experienced that exquisite pain more than once, I’m here to tell you, you’re not going to like it one bit.”
“Listen to me. In the first place, I didn’t bring Aunt Kathy back to life. She did that on her own. Well, most of the heavy lifting anyway. The rest was accomplished by another interested party.”
“You brought Kathryn here!”
“Actually, I did that.”
“Et tu, my dear wife?”
“And in the second place, I no longer have to explain myself to either of you.”
“Quite right. You’re a fully grown Q, aren’t you? You bend the laws of space and time to suit your whims without a care for the disastrous consequences of your actions.”
“I wonder where he gets that from?”
“We’re not talking about me right now, dear. We’re talking about our son, who clearly has no idea how excruciating the wrath of the Continuum can be.”
“Oh, I think I have a vague notion.”
“Tell me, when you offered your godmother the knowledge she required to restore her body, did you bother mentioning to her the fact that a price—one she will no doubt be unwilling to pay—would be exacted for this choice?”
“Um.”
“Well?”
“It all happened pretty fast. I might have skipped that part.”
“You what?”
“Of course he did. He wasn’t thinking about her. He was only thinking about himself.”
“And again, I ask, where did he get that from?”
“Stop it, both of you. I know what’s at stake here and I fully comprehend the likely ramifications of my actions. Do you honestly think I would have gone this far without good reason? I’m doing what has to be done, and if you don’t trust me, then at least believe this: Kathryn Janeway is my last best hope. And yours, too, for that matter.”
“We’re doomed.”
“Be quiet for a minute. Son? Where did he go?”
“Hold that thought, darling. They’re coming for us.”
• • •
“Q!”
Let me do the talking.
With pleasure.
“Q, Q, Q, Q, hello. To what do we owe this honor?”
“Do not presume to toy with this council, Q. You swore to us on your own existence that your son would uphold the values and standards of our continuum.”
“I know. And I assure you his misdeeds will be rectified and appropriately punished.”
“You understand the consequences, should you fail to mitigate any damage his actions have caused?”
“I do.”
“See to it.”
“Consider it done.”
• • •
“Well, that went better than I expected.”
“They’ll execute him, won’t they?”
“Not if I can fix this first.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“Please, it’s me.”
We’re doomed.
ACHILLES
. . . vital signs . . . normal . . . quantum scan . . . a few scrapes and bruises . . . perfect health.
“The light,” Eden murmured.
Afsarah Eden had no idea how long she had rested in the cool embrace of darkness. As she felt herself returning to consciousness, a warm and acute brightness directly in front of her made it impossible for her to consider opening her eyes.
“Captain?” a low, familiar voice said softly.
“The light,” Eden said again, more clearly.
“Of course. My apologies,” came the same voice.
The Doctor’s, she realized. Within seconds the stark illumination was dimmed.
Tentatively, Eden opened her eyes and was rewarded by a sharp slicing pain running the width of her temples. She raised a hand to put pressure on her forehead to ease its cold fire and as she did so, realized she was lying supine on a biobed in a sickbay she did not recognize.
“Are you in pain?” the Doctor asked.
“My head,” Eden replied weakly.
“A moment,” the Doctor said and the next thing Eden knew, the cool tip of a hypospray touched her neck and with a light hiss, released its contents. The relief to her throbbing head was instant, if not complete. It did afford her the ability to remove her hand and open her eyes fully.
Hugh Cambridge and the Doctor stood on either side of her, staring intently at her in a way that suggested she might have sprouted a second head or third eye. Behind the Doctor, the CMO of Achilles, whose name escaped her at the moment, stood alert, though clearly ceding his authority to the EMH.
Gently, Eden pushed herself up on her elbows, relieved that the pain in her head was now a dull, manageable thudding.
“There’s no hurry, Afsarah,” Cambr
idge chided her gently. “You’re quite safe.”
Ignoring him, Eden shifted her weight to her hands and reached a sitting position, allowing her legs to fall over the side of the biobed. She took a few deep breaths, as much to calm her rising panic as the memories of all she had just witnessed came flooding back as to assure herself that she was physically functional.
Turning her head to the right, the captain said to the Achilles CMO, “Doctor Liddy?” unsure of where the name had come from but grateful to have found it.
The doctor moved quickly to stand beside Cambridge and meet her eyes. “Yes, Captain Eden?” he said kindly.
“Are there any critical patients in your sickbay right now?”
“No, Fleet Commander,” he replied. “You are our only patient at the moment.”
Eden nodded. “Would you and your staff please give us the room?”
Liddy nodded briskly and, calling to the single medic on duty to join him, quickly retreated to his office and sealed the door.
Once they were alone, Cambridge asked, “What happened?”
“How did we get here?” Eden replied.
The Doctor and Cambridge exchanged a wary look, and then the Doctor replied, “There was an incident in the cavern. My readings told me that you were unconscious throughout, but that did not inhibit your . . .” He trailed off, obviously searching for the right words.
“You defied gravity, Afsarah,” Cambridge said, cutting to the chase.
“What?”
“I dozed off and the next thing I knew, you were floating twenty meters above the cavern floor. Whatever you saw, it was quite horrifying, if your screams were any indication. Eventually, the Doctor was able to retrieve you. Shortly after that, Achilles made orbit, and we requested an immediate transport.” After a moment the counselor continued, “We’re not sure if the place caused you to manifest this strange ability, or if it was some latent talent that came to you in a moment of need.”
“Like the staff,” the Doctor added.
Eden raised a trembling hand as a vivid recollection of calling to the rod so like the Staff of Ren and hurling it toward the center of the black surface filled her mind’s eye. The Doctor and Cambridge remained silent until she said, “Then it wasn’t a dream?”
“What wasn’t?” Cambridge pressed.
Eden looked between them, wishing but not daring to refuse them their answers. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d be better off if she had kept her secrets to herself. But the die was cast, and she had to accept the consequences.
“I saw them. My uncles,” she began. “When the Anschlasom made their journey through Som they did more than shatter it at the point of entrance. They created multiple instabilities or access points that now exist throughout the universe. Somehow, Tallar and Jobin discovered one before they found me. They studied it, tested it, and eventually, breached it.”
“Som? What the Anschlasom referred to as ‘The End’?” the Doctor asked.
“Is it an alternate dimension?” Cambridge asked hesitantly.
“It’s an alternate plane of existence,” Eden replied. “It transcends, yet encompasses the entire universe. It truly is the end, but it should not have intersected with our reality for countless years to come. It was a mistake.” Eden’s heart began to burn in her chest at the magnitude of devastation that the ancient explorers and, subsequently, her beloved uncles had unleashed upon normal space and time. The captain began to shake uncontrollably.
“It’s all right,” the Doctor said in his most soothing voice.
“It isn’t!” she retorted sharply. “They had no right, no idea what they were doing.” Her teeth chattered as she did her best to continue. Unbidden, warm tears spilled from her eyes, drenching her cheeks.
“Afsarah,” Cambridge said, taking both her hands in his, “try to remain calm.”
“He’s still there!” She needed them to understand her desperation. “I . . . had to . . . try and free him.”
“Who?” the Doctor asked.
“Tallar,” she sobbed.
Cambridge shook his head slightly, and the Doctor replied with an equally faint nod.
“You need to rest, Captain,” the Doctor said calmly, raising a hypospray. “We can talk about this later, when you’ve had more time—”
“No,” she insisted, pushing his arm away. “Don’t you think I know how this sounds?”
Eden took several long deep breaths. Although the shaking did not subside completely, she felt able to assert a modicum of control over it.
“All right,” Cambridge said, “help us understand. Where did you see your uncles?”
“There isn’t time!” Eden insisted, the desperation threatening to overwhelm her again.
Another bright light assaulted her from over Cambridge’s shoulder, and the captain raised her hand to shield her eyes from it. Fearing that the past and present were about to lose cohesion again, as they had in her visions, Eden paused before lowering her arm.
However, this time both Cambridge and the Doctor clearly saw it too. Turning simultaneously, their jaws dropped in unison at the sight of the figure now standing where the light had evaporated.
For the first time since she’d awakened, Eden wondered if the last few minutes could have been part of a continuous, longer dream. Nothing else made sense. Her body’s shuddering returned with a vengeance as she sat perched on the edge of madness.
“This is my nightmare,” she whispered. It has to be.
Cambridge raised his hand to his combadge, undoubtedly to call for security, but the figure quite calmly and with absolute authority said, “That’s not necessary, Lieutenant.”
Finally the Doctor seemed to find his voice. “Admiral Janeway?”
Chapter Twenty
VOYAGER
“She what?” Conlon asked, aghast.
“She insisted I give Shon her toy box and all of the toys in it,” B’Elanna replied with quiet pride.
As Tom had already heard this story and felt nothing short of wonder at Miral’s concern for the children she had known only for a few days, he took this moment to begin clearing the dinner plates for recycling and ordering up dessert for himself, B’Elanna, and their guests, Harry and Nancy.
“What about Timmy Targ,” Harry asked dubiously.
“I held that one aside,” B’Elanna admitted. “But everything else, including her stuffed Secasian serpent, is gone.”
“She loved the little felt eyes right off that serpent,” Kim exclaimed.
B’Elanna shrugged. “She wanted them to have her toys. I tried to explain that we could, and did, replicate plenty for all of them, but she kept saying they needed toys that already had love in them.”
“She didn’t,” Nancy said.
“She did.”
“You, I understand, but how does this guy,” Harry said, gesturing to Tom, “end up with such a sweet kid?”
“You mean one who knows how to share?” Tom asked good-naturedly as he served each of them dishes of fresh fruit covered with a light guerno cream. “It’s really pretty amazing when you consider that she hasn’t spent much time around other kids.”
He caught B’Elanna’s faint nod, along with the slight damper this brought to her mood. They had already discussed at some length his wife’s new concerns that Miral really needed to interact with other children on a more regular basis and thus far, neither of them had any idea how to remedy this.
“She gets it from both of you,” Nancy said, slapping Harry playfully in the shoulder. “Children reflect what they see in their parents and it’s only normal that a kid who gets as much love as she does wants other kids to have it as well.”
“I don’t know,” Tom demurred. Turning to Harry he said, “You were an only child and no one is more loving than your folks, but didn’t you tell me once about a little girl named Ruri and the shine she took to your favorite talking tea kettle?”
Harry reddened visibly, which had been the point, as B’Elanna teased,
“You refused to share your favorite toy with a little girl, Harry?”
“He punched her when she tried to play with it,” Tom clarified.
“Never mind that,” Nancy scoffed, “you had a talking tea kettle?”
“Tea was a special thing in my family,” Harry replied. “And the kettle was a gift from my grandmother. It was actually a small replicator and—”
“Do yourself a favor, Harry,” Tom suggested, “and just sit there in your wrongness and be wrong.”
“I was five,” he insisted.
“Miral isn’t even four yet,” Nancy reminded him.
“Ruri had her own tea set. She didn’t need mine,” Harry attempted.
“Harry?”
“Right.” He nodded. “I was wrong.”
As the chuckling died down, Harry Kim addressed himself to his dessert to avoid further mortification. Tom couldn’t help but marvel at how much he had enjoyed the last few hours. To sit over a delicious meal with friends like this was a pleasure he hadn’t been able to savor for what felt like much too long.
“It’s still hard to believe we were able to do what we did for Riley and her people,” B’Elanna mused.
“Our timing was pretty good,” Tom added with a nod. “I don’t know how much longer they could have avoided detection by the Tarkons.”
“I’m starting to think Seven might have been right all along,” Harry offered, obviously pleased that a new subject was at hand.
“About what?” Tom asked.
“Last report in from the rest of the fleet indicated no signs of the Borg or Caeliar anywhere,” he replied. “Riley’s group was obviously a special case and odds are there might be a few more like them out here somewhere, but it’s really starting to look like the Borg are actually gone.”
“And not a moment too soon,” Nancy added, dropping her spoon and pushing away her unfinished dessert.
Sensing the subtle sea change, Tom asked, “Did da Vinci see a lot of action during the invasion?”
Nancy’s typically jovial and bright face was already clouded over.
“A bit,” she replied tersely.
“Didn’t I read a report about you guys single-handedly saving Troyius? Something about making their planet disappear?”
Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide Page 19