HERE
U.S.S. Enterprise-E
Awareness returned, and with it the realization that every bone in his body seemed to hurt. With great reluctance, Picard opened his eyes to find himself looking up at the bridge overhead, and his wife staring down at him.
“Welcome back,” said Beverly Crusher.
“Where did I go?” Blinking several times in rapid succession, Picard raised his head enough to note that he was lying on the carpet in front of his chair. His forehead throbbed with a dull ache that was only slightly more pronounced than the discomfort racking the rest of his body. What had happened? Looking around, he saw Lieutenant Aneta Šmrhová kneeling on his opposite side, her expression one of concern.
“We were hit by a massive rush of quantum energy when the planet reappeared,” replied the security chief. “You were thrown from your chair, sir. Commander La Forge and Lieutenant Elfiki took nasty tumbles, too.”
“I sent them to sickbay,” said Beverly. “He managed to break his ankle, and she has a broken wrist, but it’s nothing we can’t fix. They’ll both be back in no time. There were a handful of injuries around the ship, but nothing serious, thankfully.”
Allowing Šmrhová to assist him to his feet, Picard offered her a nod of thanks before asking, “Status?” Even as he asked the question, he took in the sight of the planet now centered on the bridge’s forward viewscreen. With the brilliant violet and magenta hues of NGC 8541 serving as its backdrop, the cold, gray world somehow appeared almost beautiful. “Have you been able to contact the away team?”
“Not yet, sir,” replied Šmrhová. “Quantum energy readings near the surface are still elevated to the point that they’re interfering with our communications. I’m working with engineering to figure out a solution, but we got hammered pretty hard, and they’re up to their eyeballs in repairs. Commander La Forge is coordinating everything from sickbay.”
Picard could not help the small smile that escaped his lips. “Of course he is.” Though not completely satisfied with the report, he knew that his people were—as always—giving their best effort, and time would be needed to carry out the various tasks requiring attention. Still, he could not help thinking of Worf and the others, still marooned on a planet that might disappear before their very eyes yet again.
“Glinn Dygan,” he said, noting that the Cardassian had returned to his place at the ops position. “The effect of the planet’s reappearance seemed rather more forceful than our sensor data indicated should happen.”
Turning in his seat, Dygan replied, “That is correct, sir. The surge of quantum energy accompanying the planet’s return to this dimension far exceeded even our most generous estimates. The result was an enormous surge of energy that overloaded our deflector shields before proceeding to affect the ship itself. Several systems were impacted, including sensors and propulsion. Engineering reports they had to deactivate the warp drive so that they could inspect the antimatter containment system. Our shields remain inactive, and there are even issues with our weapons control systems.”
Picard grimaced. Without the warp drive, the ship would be relying on the impulse engines to provide power for onboard systems, which might mean compromises and prioritization of resources.
One thing at a time, Captain. Let your people work.
Next to Dygan, Lieutenant Joanna Faur said, “Helm is sluggish, Captain. I’m still trying to figure out if the problem is with the engines themselves, or just the power disruption we’re experiencing.”
“It is likely that the numerous overloads are the primary cause.” Even as Dygan spoke, two sections of his ops console that had been dark and inert came back to life, accompanied by a string of indicator tones.
“It seems Mister La Forge is doing a fine job coordinating his people,” said Picard, reaching up to rub his forehead. The ache, though sharp, was an irritant more than anything else.
“Are you all right?” asked Crusher. “I’ve already addressed the contusion, so there won’t be any bruising, and I can give you something for the pain.”
His first impulse was to decline the officer, but the sensation of weariness that continued to linger gave him second thoughts. Still rubbing his temples, he replied, “Perhaps that would be prudent, Doctor.”
“And here I thought you were going to resist me so that you could look brave and invincible to your crew.” Smiling, Crusher pressed a hypospray to the side of his neck and Picard felt the push of air as whatever medication she had chosen was injected into his bloodstream. It took only seconds for the treatment to assert itself, and he closed his eyes for a moment as the sensation of great weight upon his head and neck seemed to evaporate.
“Much better. Thank you.” Pulling on the bottom of his uniform jacket, Picard said, “Please tend to the other injured and keep me informed as to their status.”
“Of course, Captain, and you let me know if you have any further discomfort.” Though Crusher kept her demeanor professional, there was no denying the concern in her voice, which he knew went beyond the extraordinary compassion she felt for anyone in her care.
“Understood, Doctor.” Picard punctuated his reply with a smile that seemed to assure her, and after collecting her medical kit she disappeared into the turbolift at the rear of the bridge.
Looking around at the rest of his officers, he observed that several of the perimeter stations that had been dark were coming back to life, their individual interfaces restarting and reconnecting to the Enterprise’s main computer. At the science console, he saw that Lieutenant Paabell had arrived to take over for Lieutenant Elfiki. A Capellan male, Paabell had an imposing build that made Picard sure the lieutenant could rip through his Starfleet uniform merely by flexing his pronounced muscles. The captain also knew that harbored within Paabell’s daunting physique was a keen intelligence, as evidenced by his Academy test scores and the recommendation from the commanding officer and science officer of his previous starship posting, the U.S.S. Hayabusa.
“Good to have you with us, Mister Paabell,” said Picard.
Swiveling his seat away from his console, the lieutenant nodded. “Thank you, sir. I was just about to report that the sensor array is reinitializing. We have partial capability for the moment, but that is only sufficient for short-range scans.”
Picard’s reply was cut short by the sound of a tactical alert, and he turned to see that Lieutenant Šmrhová had returned to her station.
“Deflectors are attempting to activate,” reported the security chief, “but they’re only at twenty-two percent. They’re firming up, but it’s going to take time.” She looked up from her instruments. “Sir, sensors are detecting three ships in orbit around the planet. They’re . . .” She paused, as though uncertain of the readings as she dropped her gaze back to her panel. Shaking her head, she said, “They’re Romulan, Captain. One is a class of ship I haven’t seen outside of a history book or a museum, and the other two are smaller escort vessels.”
“Older ships, converted for civilian use?” asked Picard.
Šmrhová replied, “No, sir. According to sensors, the warship could’ve been built a year ago. The smaller ships are a little older, but only by a few years. They’re adrift just out of visual range beyond the curve of the planet, and I’m picking up signs of system failures and overloads, similar to ours though not nearly as extensive.” She snorted. “I guess they got lucky, but I don’t have a clue as to what they might be doing all the way out here. I can’t even believe they slipped in here without our noticing it. Sensors should’ve picked them up long before the planet showed up.”
Tabling that thought for the moment, Picard moved to the science station and leaned closer to Paabell. “Are you detecting any life signs?”
“Scanning.” The console seemed to all but disappear beneath the Capellan’s huge hands. “All three vessels show Romulan life signs, sir. Numbers are consistent with what the library computer has on file for . . . such older vessels.”
On one of the station’s display screens, Picard studied the computer-generated schematic of the Romulan vessels. The escort ships were unfamiliar to him, but the Vas Hatham–class warship was immediately recognizable, being a class of attack craft that saw extended service during the mid- to late twenty-third century. Such ships had been labeled as obsolete decades before Picard was born, and like Šmrhová he had only seen one at the Starfleet annex to the Smithsonian Space Museum in San Francisco. There were also numerous references to such vessels in Academy history texts, including detailed accountings of several notable meetings between ships of the Romulan Empire and various Starfleet captains.
But what the hell is it doing here?
That the Romulans might choose to expand in this direction was not unreasonable, given the proximity of the Odyssean Pass to the far boundary of space claimed by the Empire. The largely unexplored and unclaimed expanse skirted that territory as well as that of the Klingons and the Federation, and was one of the few directions in which the Romulans could expand without much interference from either of those rival powers. The Empire’s involvement in the Typhon Pact only served to complicate its relations with the Federation, but for now, at least, the current Romulan praetor, Gell Kamemor, seemed content not to challenge any Starfleet exploratory missions into the vast region.
Had that changed? If so, why send a relic to carry out such a mission?
What if it’s not a relic? What if it is a brand-new vessel, just not from here?
The implications of those wayward questions were just beginning to shape Picard’s thoughts when another alert tone sounded from Šmrhová’s tactical station. He turned and once again saw his security chief with a perplexed expression.
“Okay, I have to be imagining things. Sensors have picked up another ship in orbit, on the far side of the planet. At least this one’s Starfleet. Scans show it’s a Galaxy-class starship, but I don’t know how it managed to sneak up on us either. It’s making its way toward us. We’ll have visual in a moment.”
Compared to the Romulan ship, this development at least sounded normal. A number of Galaxy-class vessels were still in Starfleet service, constructed upon spaceframes designed with intended life spans of a century or more.
None of that served to explain what the ship was doing here.
Picard watched as Šmrhová tapped a short sequence of keys, then saw her jaw slacken before she looked up at him.
“Sir, I just accessed its registry. It identifies itself as U.S.S. Enterprise . . .”
U.S.S. Enterprise-D
“NCC-1701 . . . E?”
His eyes still stinging as a result of smoke from the overloaded console that had exploded at the back of the bridge, Riker turned and regarded Tasha Yar. The side of her face was still reddened from where she had impacted against the deck below the tactical station, and she was favoring her left arm, but she was otherwise uninjured.
“Can we see it?” he asked, still trying to process the information the security chief had given him seconds earlier regarding the appearance of the strange ship now orbiting the far side of the planet, which bore all the marks of a Starfleet vessel that—so far as Riker knew—was still being developed.
Yar replied, “Yes, sir. It’s entering visual range.” A moment later, the image on the bridge’s main viewscreen shifted to display what Riker recognized as a Sovereign-class starship. He was only able to identify the vessel because he had seen the technical schematics during a visit to the San Francisco Fleet Yards while the Enterprise was still undergoing its own refit at Earth Station McKinley. As he had when first reviewing the construction plans, he marveled at the advanced starship’s sleek lines, which suggested speed and power even as it drifted in space.
“That’s incredible,” said La Forge, and Riker noticed for the first time that the chief engineer had moved down to the command area. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”
Originally conceived as a new version of long-duration, deep-space exploration vessel, the ship design underwent a revision following the Enterprise’s initial encounter with the Borg two years earlier. The recent Borg incursion and the heavy losses suffered at Wolf 359 were already having an even greater impact on the Sovereign design. People like Lieutenant Commander Elizabeth Shelby were putting those hard lessons to good use in the next generation of Starfleet vessels, ensuring they could stand against adversaries like the Borg while still being equipped to carry out their primary mission of pushing ever outward the boundaries of knowledge and discovery.
That was all well and good, but none of that was supposed to be real. At least not yet, but the evidence on the viewscreen told Riker otherwise.
This, and we still have three Romulan ships to deal with.
“Time travel?” he said aloud. “Is that what happened?”
Behind him, still seated in her chair, Troi said, “If that’s true, then who’s out of place?”
It was a good question, Riker conceded, but it was not the pressing issue at this particular moment. The planet and its dimensional shift had done its level best to overload every shipboard system. Backup processes were already laboring to lighten the strain on the impulse engines that were now responsible for generating power, as the warp core had deactivated as a consequence of quantum energy bombardment.
He also could not stop one thought from nagging him about the new ship. If that was a future Enterprise, then what had happened to his ship? Who was in command over there? Would it be a future version of him? Data? Or, some other member of the crew who had advanced to captain’s rank? It might well be someone else entirely, which would beg the question of what happened to this ship’s crew?
I hate time travel.
“Captain,” said Data. The first officer had moved from his seat to stand next to Riker. “A scan of the ship shows that its quantum signature differs from our own, as well as the planet and the Romulan vessels.”
“It gets worse, sir.” La Forge, having moved down to the command area, pointed toward the viewscreen. “That Enterprise’s quantum signature is consistent with this dimension.”
At least now it was making a kind of sense. “So, we got pulled along with the planet to here.”
“Precisely, sir,” replied Data. “The Romulan vessels appear to have suffered a similar fate, having been transposed not once but twice during the planet’s shifting between multiple dimensions. Their quantum signatures are also different from the planet as well as our own.”
“Time travel, on top of moving between dimensions?” Riker shook his head. “Jellico’s going to love this.” He looked to Data. “Any idea where . . . I mean when . . . we are?”
The first officer said, “I have attempted to access a Federation time beacon, but there are none within sensor range. However, the main computer has ascertained our current position using navigational charts, and we are currently positioned within the nebula NGC 8541, which lies in a region known as the Odyssean Pass. In our time period—and dimension—this area has only been explored by unmanned survey probes.”
Riker frowned. He was sure he had read something about the Odyssean Pass, but it had been years. The region had once been highlighted as a promising area for exploration and possible expansion, but that initiative had been set aside as the Federation continued to face an increasing number of interstellar threats. The Klingons, the Cardassians, and especially the Borg, just to name the prominent obstacles, had all seen to it that Starfleet’s mandate evolved to incorporate ever greater defense responsibilities. While protecting Federation interests had always been part of Starfleet’s mission, there was a time when that mandate had walked in step with its larger focus of exploration. Now it seemed that balance was tipping too far toward more martial concerns, and there were times Riker questioned whether this was still the Starfleet that had so enamored him as a child.
We haven’t lost sight of who we are, and we won’t. Ever.
Behind him, Yar said, “They look to have suffered damage similar to what we’re dealing with, sir. The Romulan ships have some damage, but overall they’re better off than either us or . . . the other Enterprise.”
“That figures,” said Riker.
La Forge replied, “It could be that their vessels’ less sophisticated technology wasn’t as susceptible to the quantum energy fluctuations that hammered us.” He released a small grunt. “Lucky them.”
“Are they a threat?”
“Toe to toe? No way, sir,” said Yar. “However, if they wanted to pick a fight, they might give us some trouble in our present condition. They seem content to keep their distance for the moment, though.”
Riker nodded. “They’re probably just as confused about all this as we are, and are sizing up the situation and us. It’s what I’d do. Data, how much time do you figure we have until the next dimensional shift?”
“Unknown, sir. A scan of the planet shows that the quantum energy output has fallen considerably. Whatever caused the spike and the rapid succession of shifts seems to have dissipated, at least for the time being.”
“Keep monitoring. I don’t want to get blindsided like that again.” There also was the added concern that the Enterprise might want to tag along with the planet when it shifted again, in the hopes of returning to their proper dimension.
And time. Don’t forget that.
The familiar tone that signaled an incoming communication sounded from Yar’s tactical console, and the security chief looked to Riker. “We’re being hailed, sir, from the other Enterprise.”
“I was wondering which of us might do that first,” said Troi as she rose from her chair to stand next to Riker.
Still staring at the image of the futuristic yet oddly familiar Enterprise on the viewscreen, he replied, “I admit I thought about it, but if we really are from different times, then any interaction we have with each other could be dangerous.”
Data said, “As it appears we are from a different dimension, the Temporal Prime Directive would not strictly apply in this instance, sir.”
“Besides, they may be able to help us get back to where we belong.” La Forge offered a small, humorless smile as he nodded toward the viewscreen. “Assuming their chief engineer is as good as ours.”
The comment was enough to alleviate some of the tension of the past few minutes, and Riker grinned. With renewed energy, he looked to Yar. “Open a channel. Let’s say hello.”