On the da Vinci ten years in the future, Dantas Falcão was finishing her meal in the mess hall when Bart Faulwell sat beside her. He carried with him a leather portfolio and a small satchel that he spread out on the table. She watched in fascination as he pulled out a sheet of parchment paper and an elegant pen. Setting it down, he rose and went to the replicator, returning a minute later with a plate of cookies and a mug with steam rising from the top.
“We haven’t met,” he began, a broad smile on his face. “I’m Bart Faulwell. You’re Dantas Falcão, the new medtech. So tell me, how are you enjoying the ship?”
“How’d you know who I am?” she asked with some confusion in her voice.
Faulwell just grinned and returned to his letter.
Dantas frowned for a moment and then glanced at the letter he was writing. “Wow, I haven’t seen pen and parchment in a long time.”
“Well, they say the old tools are usually the best tools,” he said.
“Which they?”
Now Faulwell frowned at the simple question and took the opportunity to bite into a cookie. He finally shrugged and replied, “There’s always a ‘they,’ I’ve been told.”
“Who told you?”
He stared at her in surprise and then said, “You’re messing with my head, aren’t you?”
Dantas grinned at him and swiped a cookie from his plate, took a bite and chewed happily. Bart looked at her, his pen, the plate, and finally back at her.
“So, there’s always a ‘they’ and someone’s always telling you things. How long has this been going on?”
“What?”
“These voices? What does Dr. Lense say about it?”
“There are no voices,” he said.
“Then who tells you these things?”
“What things?”
“Things like old tools being the best tools. You ask me, I’d prefer our computer interface to pen and ink.”
Bart broke into a grin. “Ah, now there you’re wrong! Ever since pen and ink and parchment came together on Earth, nothing has replaced it. Having something to hold, and keep, in someone’s own hand is far more personal, and if I might say, romantic, than a voice on an isolinear chip. What do you find romantic?”
She paused, stopping a reply from being uttered. Clearly, she had thoughts on the issue, he noted, but he was willing to have her think this one through. He sipped from his mug and wrote out a few more words while she pondered.
“To me,” she began slowly, “romantic acts are more spontaneous. A sudden present, a surprise for dinner, running away from home and going for a picnic. I guess my kind of partner acts more from instinct than careful planning.”
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m taken,” he said with a grin. She blinked at him in surprise.
* * *
Down on the asteroid, P8 Blue was shuttling back and forth between consoles, checking readings and tentatively triggering controls. Soloman knew she was increasingly concerned over the imbalance that was building on the schedule she charted hours earlier. There was less than eight hours to go before things grew critical and the asteroid was likely to explode.
“Soloman,” Pattie called out. It was the first time she spoke in quite a while. “This new set of readouts makes me think things might implode instead. Something changed in the intermix.” She scuttled up the computer a bit to better read one of the displays, and she seemed to be rechecking her work. The Bynar waited patiently even though he began to feel the sense of impending danger, a feeling he had grown accustomed to, but was never happy about it.
“The batteries are all drained and the computer is still active, so it’s increasing its draw from the asteroid; that’s what’s making things change,” she called out. “In fact, because of the constant drain, the asteroid is becoming less and less stable. Its increasing brittleness may cause the implosion.”
“This is not a good thing,” Soloman said, trying to keep things light. He had noted that his S.C.E. colleagues had been having more trouble doing so since Galvan VI, so he felt the need to increase his own efforts—especially in light of his own ostracism from mainstream Bynar society, underlined by the prejudice of the Bynar pair on the Ishtar project.
Time felt slow to him, which was odd given the countdown that continued inexorably downward. P8 Blue previously theorized the metallurgy employed by the race that constructed the chamber was uninspired, just a slightly different blend of ores than standard Federation construction.
“Pattie,” Soloman called out. She turned toward him, lowering her tricorder. “I wanted to ask you about your visit home.”
P8 Blue closed the tricorder and returned to the floor, obviously collecting her thoughts. While colleagues, the two were not close and he feared he was being inappropriate with the question.
“It was not what I had hoped for,” she finally said, her voice sounding small. “My time in Starfleet has opened up my eyes and my mind, and suddenly my people seem a troubled lot.”
“As I understand it, your opinion was discounted until it was almost too late.”
“That it was,” she agreed, coming closer. “The Citoac was believed a myth until physical evidence proved otherwise and my people had to adjust accordingly. They had forgotten their promises and needed to learn a painful lesson.”
“Would you go home again?”
“Why do you ask?”
Now it was Soloman who grew silent. How could he explain what it was like, recently working with paired Bynar who then rejected him as aberrant? The pain of losing 111 was fresh again, and, coupled with the rejection on Venus, he seemed to dwell on his fate with increasing regularity.
“I am not sure I am welcome on my homeworld anymore,” he finally said.
Pattie’s expression changed to one of total sympathy. “Oh, Soloman, that can’t be true.”
“It might be, I don’t honestly know. Unpaired Bynar are seen as unfit for society, and the bigotry I experienced on Venus makes me unsure about ever returning home.”
“Do you regret the life you chose?”
“No, I do not,” he said with conviction. “What I traded away in functionality I have more than made up for in life experience. It’s just that I do not know if I would be welcome by the society at large.”
“You and I, I think, are explorers and pioneers in our own ways. Our lives apart from our societies allow us to bring much-needed perspectives to the homeworlds. I had hoped that after the Dominion War our people would see a need for reexamining our place in the galaxy, but the conversation has not even started. However, there are more Bynar on Federation worlds and, I truly believe your people will come around once presented with the overwhelming evidence that there’s more than one approach to life.”
Soloman considered her words, taking comfort in them and in P8 Blue’s willingness to open up. He had hesitated in even starting the conversation but needed to help crystallize his thinking. Before he could continue that thought, a flash of bright light caught his eye.
“There’s been movement,” Soloman called out. Pattie quickly moved to the main console and watched over his slight shoulder. He gestured at a small display on the right that seemed to pulse. “Lant’s temporal node has advanced three years, two months, and eight days in the subjective future.”
“You mean he’s only seven years behind us now?”
“Exactly,” he answered. “This is his first time in that period, if I read these screens properly.”
“And that says he’s still on Ferenginar?” She pointed to the adjacent screen that did not flicker, pulse, or change.
“It appears that way. But why would he do that?”
“A new market? Checking his bank account? He has a hot date? How should I know?”
His reply was interrupted by an alarm from Pattie’s tricorder. She quickly looked at it and then craned her neck toward the fuel consumption monitor. Her look darkened and her soul shrank.
“The time jump changed the rate of decay, the imbalance has grown exponentially,” she reported. “That’s why the batteries ran dry before.”
“But we still need to retrieve him,” Soloman said, fingers tripping over themselves as he reprogrammed the command center. “It appears that I can send these new coordinates to the temporal nodes used by the away team and they can follow.”
“And if they do that,” she said slowly. “The rate will change again.”
“How much time will we have left if the four pursue him?”
Pattie paused, doing mental arithmetic and entering other numbers in the tricorder. Slowly, she looked up at the Bynar, her expression pained. “Maybe an hour, and far less when all five come back here.” She made one of the odd chimelike noises that characterized her species. “So much for the margin of error.”
“It never lasts. You had better brief the captain,” Soloman finally said. “I’ll relay the coordinates.”
* * *
In the past, Gomez was working with her node and the tricorder, attempting to lock on to the chroniton trail left by Lant’s sudden absence as Tev paced back and forth. Abramowitz and Corsi huddled together for whatever warmth was possible as the light rain continued to fall, making the streets slick. She had to give the Ferengi credit for designing one of the best drainage systems she’d ever encountered.
Tev rubbed his sore ribs and seemed agitated, but she couldn’t indulge his bruised ego for the moment. Now that the need for disguises was over, she resumed her command persona and concentrated first on the mission. Lant’s node didn’t transmit coordinates she could trace, but she had hoped to once more lock on to the particle signature and figure out where—or when—he went. She grew frustrated at the lack of success but refused to let on to her team.
A beeping sound caused everyone to turn around and stare at Gomez. She was studying her node carefully and then grabbed for the bag by her feet. Carefully, she removed the other nodes and the beeping sound increased in volume. Carol came over to watch and was given a node; another went to Corsi, and a third node went to Tev. All studied it while she concentrated on her node and the tricorder.
“Interesting,” she said. “We’ve received entirely new coordinates. These things must be linked at all times to the asteroid’s machines. Okay, we’re back on the trail.”
“What makes you think they can be trusted?” Tev asked.
“I’m willing to bet that these came from Pattie and Soloman. Yes, there’s a chance these are from Lant and we’ll end up in the middle of a prison riot, but I’m willing to take the chance.”
“We stay or we go—those are the options, right?”
“Yes, Domenica.”
“Then let’s go,” she said.
Sonya saw that Carol also nodded in agreement, which emboldened her. “Tev, Domenica, phasers out. Carol, you handle the baggage. On my mark, we jump to the future.”
“How far forward?” Abramowitz asked, shouldering the bag.
“It looks like a little over three years,” she answered. “I can’t imagine he’s doing this for any reason other than escape. He probably doesn’t know half as much about how these things work as we do.”
“But we really don’t know that much about them, do we?”
“Actually, Carol, if we pooled our knowledge, the answer is yes. But if it were just you or Lant, I’d say things were pretty even.”
Abramowitz made a face, which caused Gomez to smile for the first time in hours.
“Ready. Mark.” Her right thumb triggered her node and the light show began again as her eyes shut. There was enough noise surrounding her that she suspected all four nodes were in use. Funny, she thought, the lights didn’t generate any heat, nor could she feel them on her damp skin. And yet, they were bending the rules of physics and letting her slip through the years. It was enough to make her head hurt, which was one reason she tried to avoid temporal physics.
The blinking from the bright light stopped peppering through her eyelids and Gomez risked opening one eye. They stood on the same street as they had before, but it seemed even dirtier, if that was possible. The rain was harder than before and was even colder. Passersby who saw the light show begin were running away, some squealing in shock. Maybe a siren was going off in the distance, but Gomez couldn’t tell. Both eyes open, she was pleased to note all four of them arrived together. Better yet, Lant was only a block or two ahead of them, running for all he was worth.
“Corsi, go!”
The security officer didn’t need to be told twice and she was off like a beam of light. Her longer legs and grim determination allowed her to quickly close the distance. The engineer admired how the security chief managed to stay upright despite moving quickly, bare feet slapping on rain-slick streets. It wasn’t even much of a race, and Lant was too busy running to even consider using the node to jump through time once more. With just a few feet between them, Corsi reached up and pulled the spanner from out of her hair. In one fluid motion, it came free and went flying directly between Lant’s legs, tripping him. He went sprawling and then skidding on the wet street, making for a comical sight. No one, especially Gomez, felt like laughing.
Corsi sat on Lant’s back, collecting the spanner and keeping her hand phaser pressed to the base of the Ferengi’s enlarged skull. She was actually grinning when the others arrived. Carol crouched and collected the fifth node and stuffed it into the bulging bag.
“All right, Commander,” Tev said, actually puffing a little from the exertion. “Can you program this to get us home?”
Gomez had been pondering that very issue, especially considering the amount of time she had to just stand around. Still, she speculated there was a simple return button rather than actual time and date to input. She was examining the device carefully and was about to ask Lant to confirm her hypothesis but the siren sound grew, breaking her concentration. Like many things that were seemingly universal, police sirens were among them.
“Everyone remain still. Let’s avoid adding to our problems,” Gomez said.
Sure enough, five Ferengi security personnel arrived in a vehicle, purple lights strobing. Their reflections off the street hurt Gomez’s eyes, forcing her to squint. They each brandished hand weapons, although one had an energy whip out and ready. With a gesture, Gomez signaled for Corsi to get off Lant and let him stand. She nodded toward Tev, indicating he should resume a dominant role, and then prayed he could talk his way out of their predicament.
“What’s all this then?” the lead officer asked, his voice deeper and rougher than any Ferengi voice she had ever heard.
“Well, this man—” Tev began.
“You be quiet. I’ll hear from my fellow countryman first. Speak.”
Lant was wringing out his jacket and trying to tidy himself despite the rain, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. No doubt he would try to extricate himself from the police despite the lack of temporal node. Finally, he placed his hands on his lapels and cleared his voice. “I am Lant, perhaps you’ve heard of me.”
“Can’t say as I have,” the officer answered.
“Well, if you check the current accounts, you should see I am one of the Ferengi Top Fifty,” he said with confidence. Gomez could only imagine how much wealth he must have socked away to be able to make a boast like that.
“And these…” he seemed at a loss for words to describe Tev and the women, so he took a different tack. “Any man of means, such as myself, is always vulnerable to common thieves, and worse, swindlers. I’ve used my fortune to tinker. I fancy myself quite the inventor and was attacked as I tried to bring my latest creation to the Commerce Council.” He gestured toward the bag on Carol’s shoulder.
“What is it?”
“What is it? What is it? Well, I’m not entirely sure you would understand something of such a complex scientific nature, Officer. In fact, I can scarcely describe it myself without all the schematics and technical specifications. Can’t even think up a short enough name for the functions it performs. Truth to tell, I was hoping to work with the Trademark Board on coming up with something catchy.” The Ferengi proceeded to spout double-talk for the next four minutes. All Gomez and the others could do was stand still, occasionally wiping rain from their eyes, and look as innocent as possible.
Finally, as Lant wound down, Gomez watched him casually reach into his jacket and withdraw his padd. She surmised that his patter lulled the police enough that such a move would not arouse suspicion. Worse, she fully expected him to bribe the police with whatever it would take to get free, with the bag. Frantically, she tried to think of an explanation that would exonerate them, or forestall the bribe.
“No doubt, your fine force is seeking additional funding to create better protections against Borg incursions,” Lant began, entering a number onto the padd. Gomez did a quick calculation and realized that the Ferengi, like all other races in the Alpha Quadrant, had had their first serious taste of the Borg three years earlier—ironically, only a month or so after the time period when they were on Ferenginar last. A Borg cube had made it all the way to Earth, wiping out two score ships at Wolf 359 along the way, before the Enterprise stopped it. With a pang, Sonya realized that, even as she walked the streets of Ferenginar now, she was on the Oberth, having transferred off the Enterprise and broken it off with Kieran, still on the latter ship.
Kieran’s still alive right now.
Lant’s patriotic blathering brought her back to the “present.” The Ferengi was offering the police a lump sum for them to do with as they pleased. She quickly turned toward Tev and widened her eyes, silently pleading with him to do something.
Tev cleared his throat, attracting everyone’s attention. Once he had it, the Tellarite seemed uncertain and then finally plowed ahead. “Thank you,” he began. “I think it’s fair to note that we have yet to be given the opportunity to explain our side of the story. After all, I believe Ferengi justice acknowledges there are two sides to each negotiation. Before anything further transpires, perhaps our version of events will sway your thinking.” Tev continued soothingly, sounding absolutely confident that his story would be more favorable than Lant’s. As he chatted, Lant’s arm lowered, and the police officer continued to look directly at Tev, eyes seeking something. Finally, it became apparent that Tev would be allowed to move, slowly, and he did so, taking his own padd out of his pocket. Quickly he tapped in a number and prepared to transmit it to the officer’s unit.
Gomez prayed Tev was not going to be cheap about the bribe.
The officer thought for a moment and then signaled to one of his men to retrieve both padds. Once both were brought to him, he studied them thoughtfully and then handed them back to his colleague. A smile revealed well-filed teeth, and Gomez’s heart sank. If they got out of this, she was going to kill Tev.
“I truly appreciate the fine contribution our otherworldly friend has offered our defense treasury,” the officer began. “Perhaps his version of events would be fascinating to hear. But right now, with this rain, we have other safety issues to explore. I’ll leave you to sort out your disagreement.” He bowed slightly and turned away, signaling the men to return to the vehicle.
Lant stood in the rain, gape-jawed, while Gomez revised her plans toward the Tellarite. Quickly, she pointed at Corsi and the security chief once more stood intimidatingly close to Lant.
“He took both bribes!” Lant squealed.
“Can we go home now?” Tev asked.
“Actually,” Carol interrupted, “we need to undo Lant’s actions. His manipulation of the markets created wealth that never should have existed. The adverse effect on the Ferengi economy may be severe. I didn’t have enough time to study things to make a determination, but we cannot take any chances.”
“You mean we have to go back and lose all of Lant’s money?”
“Exactly, Domenica. And we can’t do it quickly, otherwise we’d set off a financial panic.”
“Can’t we just lose the latinum here and now, rather than three years ago? Could it have that much of an effect?”
Tev had a point, and Gomez was wet and tired and grumpy enough to go with the simplest solution, rather than indulge in a discussion on the merits of temporal ethics. No doubt the away team would be sanctioned by the Department of Temporal Investigations—a debriefing she was not looking forward to—but right now, she didn’t care. It was going to be her call.
“Lant, how much do we need to lose to return your accounts to what they were a month ago?”
The Ferengi mentally did the math, fearfully eyeing Corsi, who stayed right beside him. “I’d say about eighty-seven percent of my present holdings.”
“And, to follow Carol’s advice, how long do we need to properly lose the money without setting off a panic?”
“Well, if I lose half of it immediately, that should reduce my holdings enough so the Dominion War panic in a few years should wipe the rest out,” he said wistfully.
“How long?” Corsi demanded.
“An hour, maybe two if I make lots of little buys.”
“Let’s go to the Exchange,” Gomez said. She began leading the group toward the bright tower before them, only a few scattered floors obvious through the rain and haze. “The next session should be starting in a little while. First thing we do, though, is get dry.”
“Amen,” Carol said.