Chapter 59 - Season 3: Episode 40 - We'll Always Have 'Tom' Paris

Episode 40 - We'll Always Have 'Tom' Paris

Stardate: 41697.9

Earth Standard Date: September 12, 2364

Location: Enterprise-D, En route to Sarona VIII

Beverly and Deanna moved through the flowing forms of mok'bara in the Enterprise gymnasium, their breathing controlled, feet padding soft against the floor.

"We stayed in Ten Forward talking for hours," Deanna said, transitioning into the next stance.

Beverly followed. "Then what happened?"

"He walked me to my quarters."

"Then what happened?" Beverly's voice turned playful.

"Beverly!" Deanna broke her stance.

Beverly laughed. "I'm just asking."

Deanna resumed the form with more force. "You know it's been over between Will and me for a long time."

"He's not Will. He is Will, but you know what I mean."

"It's really hard for me to separate my feelings for them." Deanna's shoulders tensed as she moved through a more complex sequence.

Beverly paused, waiting until Deanna met her eyes. "Just because things turned out the way they did between you and Commander Riker, doesn't mean you shouldn't let things between you and Lieutenant Riker take their own course."

"I knew you'd encourage me." Deanna shook her head but couldn't hide her smile.

"I thought that's why you brought it up." Beverly winked, and they resumed their forms.

The gymnasium doors opened. Lieutenant Riker entered in workout clothes, and the energy in the room shifted immediately.

Beverly gathered her towel. "Well, I think I'll call it a day."

"Beverly," Deanna hissed.

"Bye," Beverly called cheerfully as she passed Riker and disappeared through the doors.

He approached, watching Deanna complete a sequence. "Some form of tai chi chuan?"

"Klingon exercises. Lieutenant Worf teaches a class." She continued moving, hyperaware of his eyes on her.

"The forms are very similar." He stood beside her. "Do that move again."

She repeated the motion. He mirrored it with surprising accuracy.

"You just did the Kohmanara," she said, impressed despite herself.

"Tai chi chuan. It's called the crane block." His eyes sparkled with challenge. "Now let's try something else."

He executed a fluid reaching motion. Deanna responded on instinct, grasping his arm, bending it backward, using his momentum to roll him onto his back. He landed with a soft thud.

"What was that called?" he asked, looking up at her with open admiration.

"Mister Worf's a very good teacher."

She leaned down and kissed him. His hand came up to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. The kiss deepened for a heartbeat before she pulled back, her pulse quickening. His eyes were dark, searching hers.

The doors opened. Tyson entered with Captain Picard, another lieutenant, Bastila Shan, and Commander Remmick. Picard and the other lieutenant wore white fencing gear and carried swords.

Riker lifted himself off the floor, moving respectfully away from Troi.

"Hope we weren't interrupting," Tyson said.

"Not at all." Riker straightened his shirt. "I came to see your demonstration, though I thought I was early enough to get a spar in with Imza... Counselor Troi here."

Deanna stood and smoothed her gi.

Tyson smiled knowingly. Picard cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Dean and I had planned fencing, but we can postpone a few rounds to see what combat with these lightsabers is like. I've seen Commander Tyson in action, but never against a weapon similar to his own. I'm curious to see the difference between fencing with a saber and fighting with a lightsaber."

Tyson motioned for Bastila to take position across from him. The gymnasium suddenly felt charged with anticipation.

"I'll try not to disappoint you," he said, rolling his shoulders. "I'm not formally trained. I mostly rely on my physical ability to create the illusion of being able to fight with a lightsaber properly."

Bastila took her position with practiced grace. "He's being modest about his ability. But he's not wrong. His technique is abysmal."

Tyson snorted, drawing his Lightsaber and engaging the green blade with a distinctive hum that filled the room. "We'll see how abysmal it is, won't we?"

Bastila's expression remained serene as she reached for her weapon. With a fluid motion, she engaged her double-bladed yellow lightsaber, the twin beams casting a golden glow across the floor. She settled into a balanced stance, feet precisely positioned.

Tyson stood opposite her, his green blade held in a casual grip.

"Begin when ready," Picard called from the sidelines, his eyes bright with interest.

Bastila moved first, advancing with measured steps. "Form I, Shii-Cho. The most basic lightsaber form, developed by the ancient Jedi when initially transitioning from metal swords to lightsabers."

She struck with a controlled overhead slash that Tyson parried easily. The blades crackled where they met, sending sparks of energy dancing between them.

"Notice the deliberate targeting of zones rather than specific body parts," Bastila continued, seamlessly flowing into a sequence of strikes aimed at his shoulders, midsection, and legs.

Tyson blocked each attack with impressive speed, his movements fluid but unstructured. He countered with a rapid series of slashes that forced Bastila to spin her double-blade in a defensive pattern.

"Interesting," Picard murmured to Lieutenant Dean. "Her movements remind me of classical swordplay, not fencing, mind you."

Bastila pivoted away from Tyson's aggressive advance, using the Force to enhance her agility. She leapt backward, landing lightly several meters away.

"Form I incorporates wide, sweeping motions," she explained, demonstrating with a horizontal slash that Tyson ducked under. "It's designed for combat against multiple opponents, particularly those wielding blasters."

Tyson pressed forward. His blade became a blur of green light as he launched a flurry of attacks. Bastila blocked each one, her expression calm despite the intensity of his assault.

"Your speed is impressive," she acknowledged, "but predictable without proper technique."

She suddenly shifted her stance, channeling the Force to match his pace. Their blades clashed in a rapid exchange that drew gasps from the onlookers. The gymnasium filled with the electric crackle of energy weapons colliding.

"I recognize some of those movements," Picard observed, leaning forward with interest. "That parry sequence resembles classical saber techniques from the 18th century. Though I notice no recognizable patterns in Commander Tyson's approach."

"Many lightsaber techniques have parallels in traditional sword fighting across cultures," Bastila replied without breaking her concentration. She deflected another of Tyson's powerful strikes.

Tyson grinned, spinning his blade in a showy maneuver before launching another attack. "Why limit myself to forms when I can just be faster?"

Bastila met his strike with perfect timing, locking their blades together momentarily. "Because without technique, you waste energy and leave yourself vulnerable."

She disengaged and immediately exploited an opening in his defense, forcing him to retreat several steps.

"Form I teaches economy of motion," she continued, demonstrating with a precise thrust that Tyson deflected. "Each movement serves a purpose, unlike your flashy spins."

Riker and Troi watched from the side, their earlier moment forgotten in the spectacle before them.

"She's incredible," Troi whispered. "I can feel her focus."

Tyson launched himself into the air, flipping over Bastila's head in a display of acrobatic prowess. She tracked his movement perfectly, bringing her double-blade up to block his downward strike as he landed.

"Impressive," she acknowledged, "but telegraphed. A trained opponent would have anticipated that."

She spun her staff in a complex pattern, the yellow blades creating a defensive wall that forced Tyson back. "Form I includes basic velocity movements, the foundation for more advanced techniques in later forms."

Tyson responded by increasing his speed further, his movements becoming almost too fast for the human eye to follow. Bastila matched him by drawing deeper on the Force, enhancing her natural abilities.

"Your reliance on speed is your weakness," she said, her voice remaining calm despite the intensity of their exchange. "Without proper form, you expend unnecessary energy."

To demonstrate her point, she suddenly shifted tactics, using short, economical movements that conserved her strength while forcing Tyson to extend himself further with each attack.

"I see what you mean," Picard commented, his expert eye catching the difference in their approaches. "His movements, while impressive, lack the efficiency of yours."

Bastila nodded slightly. "The first lesson of lightsaber combat is restraint. Power without control leads to vulnerability."

She demonstrated by feinting low, then quickly redirecting her attack when Tyson committed to a defense. The tip of her yellow blade stopped just centimeters from his shoulder.

"Point," she said simply.

Tyson acknowledged with a nod, then immediately launched into another series of attacks, his green blade weaving complex patterns through the air. His physical abilities were extraordinary, allowing him to press Bastila despite her superior technique.

"He's compensating for his lack of training with raw ability," Lieutenant Dean observed. "It's effective, if inelegant."

"Indeed," Picard agreed. "Though against an equally skilled opponent with proper training, I suspect such advantages would diminish."

Bastila continued her instruction even as she defended against Tyson's relentless assault. "Notice how each movement flows naturally to the next."

She demonstrated with a sequence that systematically threatened each target area, forcing Tyson to adjust his defense constantly. Despite his speed, the structured nature of her attack pattern kept him reacting rather than initiating.

"I'm beginning to see the advantage," Tyson admitted, parrying a thrust aimed at his midsection.

"Your way works only because of your unique physical attributes," Bastila countered, spinning her staff to block his counterattack. "Guidance by the Force can compensate for physical limitations."

Their blades locked again, crackling with energy where they met. For a moment, they stood in perfect balance, neither giving ground.

"The foundation of all lightsaber combat," Bastila said, her eyes meeting Tyson's across their crossed blades, "is understanding that the weapon is an extension of yourself, not merely a tool. The Force flows through both the wielder and the crystal within the hilt."

She disengaged suddenly, stepping back and lowering her blade slightly. "That connection is what separates true lightsaber combat from mere fighting with an energy weapon."

Tyson lowered his blade as well, acknowledging her point with a thoughtful nod. "I can feel the difference when you fight. There's a harmony to your movements that I lack."

"That harmony comes from proper training. Something you might consider pursuing." She met his eyes directly. "It's obvious you've trained using the weapon, but only as a man with a weapon."

Tyson lowered his lightsaber further, the green blade humming softly. "It's not like I had an option. I haven't had anyone to train me."

Everyone in the room shifted slightly. Not as if they moved, but almost like their forms flickered.

"That harmony comes from proper training," Bastila repeated, her voice carrying the same cadence as a moment before. "Something you might consider pursuing. It's obvious you've trained using the weapon, but only as a man with a weapon."

Tyson frowned, a strange sensation crawling up his spine. "It's not like I had an option. I haven't had anyone to train me."

The words felt wrong in his mouth. Like he'd just said them. Like reality had stuttered.

Picard raised a hand. "Captain, what was that?" Remmick asked, looking around.

Picard walked to the wall panel. "Picard to Bridge."

"Captain?" Commander Riker's voice came through.

"Number One, did something unusual just occur on the Bridge?"

"Yes, sir. We experienced some kind of loop where everything repeated itself."

"Here too. I'm on my way." Picard straightened his fencing jacket and headed for the door.

Tyson deactivated his lightsaber. "Captain, I have an inherent sense for when space-time has been altered. Whatever caused that temporal distortion came from far away, not within this star system."

"Understood. I'll be on the bridge." Picard continued out, still in his fencing outfit.

"I'd better go too." Tyson turned to Bastila and bowed his head. "Thank you for the lesson, Master."

Bastila's cheeks colored. "I'm no master."

Tyson laughed. "If you wish to return to the Personal Reality, you can use the door in Sickbay."

He turned toward the exit but stopped as another crew member entered.

The newcomer halted. "Commander Tyson, sir. I was looking for you, if you have a minute."

"I was heading to the bridge, but sure. What can I do for you, Lieutenant Prieto, right?"

"Tyson, this is Ben," Troi said. "Lieutenant Prieto was the pilot of the shuttle that crashed on Vagra II."

"Sorry for not checking up on you afterward. The Medical Bay works well without my guidance."

Prieto waved him off. "No problem, sir. I wanted to speak with you about a transfer."

"Commander Riker handles all duty shifts. Neither I nor Commander Remmick interfere in that."

"No, sir, I want to transfer into your command." Prieto stood straighter. "I already cleared it with Commander Riker, but he said, and I quote, 'You handle your own people.' I want to be one of your people."

Tyson's eyebrows rose. "That's unexpected. You're the first person to ask to serve under me. What prompted this?"

Prieto's posture relaxed slightly, but his eyes remained intense. "I felt completely helpless on Vagra II, sir. I was unconscious for most of it, but from the reports..." He paused. "Without your intervention, I would have died there. I don't even remember what happened. Only pieced it together from mission logs and debriefings."

Tyson studied him for a long moment. Prieto shifted, clearly preparing another plea.

"Sure thing, Lieutenant. Glad to have you."

Lieutenant Riker's head snapped up. "That's it? You'll take him just like that? No questioning his record or character?"

Tyson shrugged, clipping his lightsaber to his belt. "One of my goals is training members of Starfleet. I can't do that without anyone to train. My subordinate pool is thin right now, just Commander Remmick, Ensign Ro, and T'Pol."

Lieutenant Riker looked between Tyson and Troi. The silence stretched. Then he straightened his shoulders.

"I'd like to join you as well."

Troi's eyes widened. "Are you sure, Will?"

"Call me Thomas, please." His voice dropped, suddenly raw. "I've been thinking about it. I can't just stay here, not when he's here."

He turned to Troi, and something in his expression made the air feel heavier. "But I don't want to leave you, Imzadi."

The Betazoid word hung between them, intimate and weighted with history. Deanna's breath caught. She could feel the vulnerability radiating from him, the fear beneath his determination.

Thomas looked back at Tyson. "With the connection you mentioned between your Personal Reality and the Enterprise, even if you took your own command, we'd still be able to reach the Enterprise wherever she was. Isn't that right?" He glanced at Troi again, and his voice gentled. "I'd be able to come back. To visit."

The unspoken words were clear: to see you.

Tyson crossed his arms. "That's true. But are you sure? You could take time to think about what you want."

"I have thought about it. I looked at your record. You made Commander in half a year. It's unprecedented." Thomas's jaw set with renewed determination. "I want to focus on my career."

He turned to Troi again, and when he spoke, his voice cracked slightly. "But I don't want to sacrifice my chance with you. Not like he did."

Deanna's eyes softened. The emotional resonance was clear to everyone in the room.

"Alright, welcome to the team." Tyson extended his hand.

Deanna looked at Tyson accusingly, her empathic senses clearly picking up something. "What are you planning?"

"Me?" Tyson's expression was the picture of innocence, but he didn't answer.

Thomas shook Tyson's hand, appreciating the acceptance.

Bastila watched quietly, her lightsaber deactivated and hanging at her side. Lieutenant Dean had moved to a corner, practicing lunges.

Prieto smiled, realizing he wasn't just joining a department but getting in on the ground floor of something new.

"Alright." Tyson clapped his hands together. "My non-existent department now has five members. Commander Remmick, Lieutenant T'Pol, Lieutenant Thomas Riker, Lieutenant Ben Prieto, and Ensign Ro Laren." He ticked them off on his fingers. "And I know who I need to recruit next, but first, the bridge."

When Tyson and Deanna reached the bridge, Picard was already in the captain's chair, still wearing the fencing outfit.

"Report, Mister Data."

Data's fingers moved across his console. "Sensors show nothing, sir, but it appears a moment in time repeated itself exactly for everyone."

"Just like a feeling of déjà vu," LaForge added.

"Reports from all decks coming in, sir," Worf said from tactical.

"Computers were also affected," Data continued, "which would indicate the phenomenon was not an illusion but occurred in real time."

Picard nodded. "Number One, find out if anything similar happened in this sector."

Before Riker could respond, Worf interrupted. "Sir, I'm receiving an emergency transmission from the Pegos Minor system."

"Put it on."

The viewscreen flickered. A distorted voice filled the bridge. "Five four two point two. I repeat. This is Doctor Paul Manheim. We are in need of help. Urgent. All ships, please respond. I repeat. Coordinates are six six seven two eight point nine."

Tyson watched Picard straighten at Manheim's name.

"It's an automated signal, sir," Worf reported. "I'm unable to establish contact."

"Shut it off. Mister LaForge, lay in a course on those coordinates."

"Aye, sir."

Riker stepped forward. "Captain, you act as if there's a connection between the time distortion and the distress signal."

"There is. Paul Manheim. Fifteen years ago, he went to work on experiments relating to non-linear time. It appears he may have achieved some measure of success."

Picard was about to order warp speed when a console beeped. He turned, agitated. "What now, Mr. Data?"

Data scanned the readout. "Sir, it appears that a star two sectors away is showing signs of going supernova."

"Supernova? Are you certain?"

"Yes sir, sensor readings confirmed. A star going supernova occurs once every century in this galaxy."

Picard stood. "Onscreen."

The viewscreen shifted to show a distant star. For a moment, nothing seemed unusual, just a bright point against the blackness.

Then the star's brightness intensified dramatically.

A blinding flash erupted from its core. Expanding rings of superheated gas and radiation bloomed outward like a cosmic flower unfurling its petals in slow motion. The outer layers of the star were blown away in a spectacular cascade of light and color: blues bleeding into reds, golds rippling through the vacuum like paint dropped in water. The shockwave continued expanding, engulfing nearby stellar matter, birthing a nebula before their eyes.

The bridge crew watched in silence, transfixed. Even Data seemed momentarily captivated.

Tyson felt it in his Cosmic Awareness. The timing was too perfect. First a temporal anomaly, then Manheim's distress call, and now this. Something big was happening, pieces sliding into place he couldn't quite see yet.

"As majestic as that may have been," Picard said, breaking the silence, "we have more pressing concerns. Mr. LaForge, set a course for Pegos Minor, warp eight."

"Aye, sir. Warp eight."

The Enterprise streaked through space at warp eight. On the bridge, Commander Riker stood beside Data's station.

"I've never heard of Paul Manheim," Riker admitted.

Picard turned. "Mister Data?"

Data accessed his internal database. "A highly respected scientist, considered a visionary. He advanced several time-related theories. One regarding the relationships between time and gravity was quite intriguing, but neither that theory nor any other received wide acceptance."

"Fifteen years ago, he assembled a team of scientists to expand that research," Picard added. "They disappeared. Haven't been heard from since."

Riker studied the captain's expression. "Did you know him, Captain?"

"I knew of him. He was teaching at the University when I was in Paris, but I didn't have the pleasure." Picard stood abruptly. "I must change. Number One, inform me half an hour before we reach those coordinates. Keep trying to determine if the time distortion was specifically located on the Enterprise."

"Yes, sir."

As Picard moved toward the turbolift, Troi stepped forward. "Captain? Excuse me."

Picard paused. "Yes, what is it, Counselor?"

"I think you would prefer to discuss this in private."

"That's not necessary. Go on."

Troi hesitated, aware of the bridge crew's attention. "When Professor Manheim's name was mentioned, you reacted with intense emotion."

"Yes. Please get to the point."

"I don't want to interfere with your personal life, but unresolved strong emotions can affect judgment."

"Well, thank you for your concern."

"As Ship's Counselor, I offer my assistance."

Picard regarded her with a mixture of respect and reluctance. "What do you suggest?"

"Confronting deep personal issues is not easy for you. You tend to suppress them." Troi's voice softened. "There are a few hours until we arrive. Perhaps you should use this time to analyze your feelings and put them into perspective."

"Thank you, Counselor. If I should need you further, I'll let you know."

He stepped into the turbolift. Tyson quickly joined him before the doors closed. The captain's discomfort was palpable in the confined space.

"Holodeck three," Picard instructed.

"Lieutenant Yar's quarters," Tyson added.

Picard glanced at him questioningly.

"Just checking up on her. With your permission, Captain, I'd like to invite Tasha into my team."

Picard's eyebrows rose. "That's my Chief of Security."

"I know. But I think after the incident on Vagra II, she needs a change of scenery."

The turbolift slowed. The doors opened to Picard's destination.

"Permission granted, assuming she agrees."

The doors closed.

Outside Tasha Yar's quarters, Tyson paused. The encounter with Armus had been traumatic for everyone, but especially for Yar. In the original timeline, she would have died on that planet. Surviving when you were meant to die left psychological scars.

He pressed the chime.

"Enter," Yar's voice came through.

The door opened to reveal Yar's quarters, sparsely decorated and meticulously organized. Tasha stood by the viewport in off-duty clothing, her short blonde hair slightly tousled. She turned as he entered, her expression guarded.

"Commander. What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to see how you're doing after Vagra II."

Her posture stiffened. "I've been cleared for duty by Dr. Crusher."

"That's not what I asked."

For a moment, Yar maintained her professional facade. Then her shoulders slumped slightly. "I keep seeing it in my dreams. That... thing. Armus." She moved to the couch and sat.

Her hands clasped together tightly in her lap. "I remember feeling its strength, like it was draining my life away as it tossed me like I was nothing. Then blackness until I woke up in your ship."

The words came out flat, controlled, but Tyson could see the tension in her jaw, the way her knuckles had gone white.

He sat across from her. "Trauma like that doesn't just disappear because a doctor says you're physically healthy."

"I know." The admission seemed to cost her something. "I've survived worse on Turkana IV. I'll get through this, too."

"I have no doubt. But I'm here to offer you an alternative to just 'getting through it.'"

Yar looked up, curiosity replacing some of the tension. "What do you mean?"

"I'm forming a specialized team under my command. Lieutenant Riker and Lieutenant Prieto have already joined. I'd like you to consider becoming part of it as well."

"Leave Security?" She seemed surprised. "But that's my position, my responsibility."

"It would be a lateral move, not a demotion. You'd maintain your rank and security clearance. The difference would be the nature of the missions and the training."

"What kind of training?"

Tyson leaned forward. "I can teach you to defend yourself against beings like Armus. Not just with phasers, but with abilities you currently can't imagine."

Her expression grew skeptical. "You're talking about your powers? The ones you used on Vagra II?"

"Among others. Captain Picard has already approved the transfer, if you're interested."

Yar stood and paced to the viewport, staring out at the streaking stars. The silence stretched. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. "What exactly would this team do?"

"The first priority is seeing if I can pass on these abilities. It'd be exercises, meditation, time in the Personal Reality. With the hopes that one day you can move on to another vessel. Maybe promotions, or being a leader yourself."

She turned back, and something had shifted in her expression. The guardedness had fallen away, replaced by something harder, more determined.

"When do I start?"

— Star Jumper —

Stardate: 50384.2

Earth Standard Date: May 21, 2373

Location: USS Voyager, Delta Quadrant

The bridge crew sat transfixed as a massive gaseous cloud illuminated with bursts of energy, signaling the death throes of a star. Brilliant flashes of blue and gold rippled across the nebula as the supernova began.

Captain Janeway leaned forward, unable to contain her scientific excitement. "Oh!"

"Incredible," Chakotay said from beside her.

"Absolutely thrilling."

Neelix, who had come to the bridge specifically for this event, gestured enthusiastically. "All I can say is, wow! What about you, Mister Vulcan? Isn't that just, wow!"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Your inarticulate expression of awe notwithstanding, Mister Neelix, it was a fascinating spectacle."

"That's the edge of the shock wave," Kim said, monitoring his console. "Pressure's over ninety kilopascals, thirty percent more than we predicted."

Janeway straightened. "Tom, back us off at full impulse. I want to stay ahead of the brunt of that wave."

"Yes, ma'am," Paris replied.

Janeway turned to survey her crew with pride. "Congratulations, everyone. Only two other crews in the history of Starfleet have witnessed a supernova explosion."

"But neither one was this close," Kim added. "Less than ten billion kilometres. Definitely a record."

Janeway smiled. "Who brought the champagne?"

Neelix's spotted face contorted with concern. "Champagne? Captain, if I thought you wanted champagne—"

"Relax, Neelix. It's a figure of speech."

Kes, standing near tactical, turned toward the captain. "Thanks for inviting us to watch with you, Captain. It's really got me interested in learning more about stellar phenomena."

The Doctor, proudly mobile with his new emitter, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Just remember, Kes, anyone can stargaze on the Bridge, even a hologram with a mobile emitter, but the real action will always be in sickbay."

"How'd those shield modifications hold up, B'Elanna?" Janeway asked.

Torres consulted her readings. "Less than a seven percent power drain."

"Good job." Janeway turned to her first officer. "Chakotay, what do you say we get started analyzing those carbon conversion readings?"

Chakotay studied her face, noting the fatigue lines around her eyes. "Captain, you've been on the Bridge for fourteen straight hours. Don't you think you deserve a little rest? Harry and I will get to work on the astrometric analysis, and we'll give you a full report in the morning."

Janeway hesitated, glancing back at the fading supernova before conceding with a tired smile. "You win. I'll see you at oh seven hundred."

Entering her quarters, Janeway stopped abruptly.

Her standard-issue bed had been replaced with an ostentatious monstrosity covered in red satin sheets and adorned with heart-shaped pillows. The thing dominated her quarters like some gaudy monument to bad taste.

"Janeway to security. Intruder alert." She tapped her combadge immediately.

A flash of light revealed Q lounging across the bed in a red silk dressing gown. He raised a champagne flute. "There's no need to call room service, Kathy. I've already ordered."

"Oh, Q." Her voice flattened with recognition and instant exhaustion.

"You did say you wanted champagne?" He gestured to the bottle chilling beside the bed, looking pleased with himself.

"Janeway to security. Intruder alert." She repeated more forcefully.

Q waved his hand. "Oh, it's no use. I've taken the proverbial phone off the hook. After all, we don't want any interruptions."

Janeway crossed her arms. "What are you doing here?"

Q raised his glass. "To us."

"There is no us, Q."

"The night is young, and the sheets are satin." He ran his hand across the glossy fabric suggestively.

"I want you out. But first, get rid of this bed."

"I have no intention of getting between those Starfleet issue sheets. They give me a terrible rash."

"Since you won't be getting in the bed, I wouldn't worry about it."

Q pouted. "Oh, Kathy, don't be such a prude. Admit it. It has been a while."

"And it's going to be a while longer. Now get out." She pointed toward the door.

"So tense. Why don't you slip into something more comfortable?"

With a flash, Janeway found herself wearing a silk nightdress.

Heat flooded her face. Not embarrassment, pure fury. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms.

"If you think this puerile attempt at seduction is going to work, you're even more self-deluded than I thought." Each word came out precise, controlled, the kind of tone that made ensigns straighten their spines.

Q sat up. "Now I see. You think I'm interested in some tawdry one-night stand. That's because I haven't told you why I'm here yet." He paused dramatically. "Out of all the females of all the species in all the galaxies, I have chosen you to be the mother of my child."

"Oh!" The word escaped before she could stop it.

"I know that you're probably asking yourself, why would a brilliant, handsome, dashingly omnipotent being like Q want to mate with a scrawny little bipedal specimen like me?" He preened.

Janeway recovered quickly. "Let me guess. No one else in the universe will have you."

"Nonsense. I could have chosen a Klingon Targ, the Romulan empress, a Cyrillian microbe."

Janeway grabbed a dressing gown and wrapped it around herself. "Really? I beat out a single-celled organism? How flattering."

"It's an overwhelming honor, isn't it?" Q floated off the bed, circling her. "I can't get you out of my mind. You're confident, passionate, beautiful."

"And totally uninterested." Janeway moved away.

"Kathy, you can't leave. My cosmic clock is ticking. Besides, you have no idea what you're missing. Foreplay with a Q can last for decades."

Janeway headed toward her replicator. "Sorry, but I'm busy for the next sixty or seventy years."

"Oh, I see, this is one of those silly human rituals. You're playing hard to get."

"As far as you're concerned, Q, I'm impossible to get."

Q's expression lit up with delight. "Goody! A challenge. This is going to be fun."

With a snap of his fingers, Q disappeared, taking the gaudy bed with him.

Janeway tapped her combadge immediately. "Janeway to bridge."

"Chakotay here, Captain. I thought you were going to get some sleep."

"I've just had a visit from Q. He's gone now, but I want to be notified immediately if he reappears anywhere on the ship or if anything odd starts to happen."

"Acknowledged. What did he want?"

Janeway sighed. "Let's just say he had a personal request."

"Captain?"

"I'm not sure what he's really up to, but I have a feeling he'll be back. Janeway out."

The following morning, Captain Janeway sat in her ready room reviewing sensor data when the door chimed.

"Come in."

Chakotay entered, carrying a data slate. "I've got those carbon conversion readings from the supernova."

"Thank you." She accepted the slate, noticing his lingering presence. "Is there something else?"

Chakotay shifted his weight. "Have you heard anything more from Q?"

"No. I wish I could believe he's gone for good."

"I was wondering just what you meant when you said he made a personal request."

Janeway considered deflecting, but decided honesty was best. "He wants to mate with me."

Chakotay stiffened. "I see."

"Obviously, it's out of the question. And I suspect it's a smoke screen. Knowing Q, he's probably got some hidden agenda."

"Maybe." The word came out clipped.

"Chakotay."

He met her gaze directly. Something raw flickered across his face before he controlled it. "I know I don't have any right to feel this way, but this bothers the hell out of me."

A flash of light interrupted them as Q appeared, now wearing a Starfleet uniform with commander's pips. "I do believe you're jealous." He turned to Janeway with a smirk. "Why didn't you tell me there was another man?"

Janeway stood, placing herself between them. "Because there isn't. I'm just not interested in you."

Chakotay stepped forward, shoulders squared. "Any more questions?"

"I was wondering, Kathy, what could anyone possibly see in this big oaf, anyway? Is it the tattoo? Because mine's bigger."

With a flash, an elaborate tattoo appeared, covering the left half of Q's face in an exaggerated version of Chakotay's tribal marking.

Janeway crossed her arms. "Not big enough."

Q snapped his fingers, making the tattoo grow until it covered his entire face. "Is this better? I can make it cover my whole body if you'd like."

"This is childish. I have a ship to run."

"Oh, but we're just getting started." Q floated several inches off the ground, circling them. "I've been studying human mating rituals. Fascinating stuff. Did you know some human females are attracted to men who demonstrate physical prowess?" He flexed his arms dramatically.

"Captain, would you like me to call security?" Chakotay asked.

"They can't do anything against him."

"True, but I appreciate the commander's primitive protective instinct. Very touching." Q materialized directly in front of Chakotay. "Tell me, Chuckles, what exactly is your relationship with Kathy?"

"That's Commander Chakotay. And Captain Janeway's personal relationships are none of your business."

"Oh, but they are my business if I'm to be her mate." Q produced a bouquet of exotic flowers. "I've collected these from twelve different galaxies. Some of them sing."

The flowers began a harmonic humming.

Janeway pinched the bridge of her nose. "Q, this is ridiculous."

"You're right. Too conventional." The flowers vanished. Q snapped his fingers again, and a small nebula appeared floating between them, swirling with colors more vibrant than the supernova they'd witnessed. "I made this just for you. A pocket universe with stars that spell out your name when viewed from the proper angle."

Chakotay stepped toward the door. "Captain, I'll come back later when you're less... occupied."

"Don't leave on my account, Tattoo Boy," Q said. "I'm fascinated by this primitive jealousy. Tell me, does your heart rate increase when you see Kathy and me together? Do you feel that charming human emotion called envy?"

"I feel concern for my captain being harassed."

Q appeared beside Janeway, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Harassment? Kathy and I are old friends."

Janeway immediately shrugged off his arm. "We are not friends, Q. And I've asked you repeatedly to call me Captain Janeway."

"Such formality. Is that what appeals to you? The stoic command structure?" He transformed his uniform, adding admiral's pips. "There. Now I outrank both of you. Problem solved."

"Q." Janeway's voice hardened with command authority. "This ends now. I'm not interested in being the mother of your child or anything else. Find someone else."

"But I've chosen you! Do you know how many females would be honored to bear a Q child? The power, the prestige!"

"Then go ask one of them," Chakotay suggested.

Q's expression darkened. "The problem is, none of them are Kathy." He turned to Janeway. "You have qualities I find... intriguing. Your humanity, your compassion, your stubbornness. These are traits I want in my offspring."

"I'm flattered, but my answer is still no."

Azure waters lapped against pristine white sand, palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze. Colorful drinks with tiny umbrellas sat on small tables beside two reclined lounge chairs where Tom Paris and Harry Kim relaxed, each receiving shoulder massages from holographic women in flattering swimwear.

Paris closed his eyes in contentment. "Who says crew performance reports have to be a chore?"

"Sure beats working on the bridge," Kim replied, his voice mellowing.

Paris reached for his drink. "Now if we could just convince the Captain to start holding morning briefings in here."

"That'll be the day."

A brilliant flash of white light erupted across the patio. When it faded, the holographic women had vanished from behind Paris and Kim, reappearing instead behind a third lounger that hadn't been there moments before. Stretched across it was Q, wearing gaudy swim trunks and oversized sunglasses, receiving the attentions of both holographic masseuses.

"Nice program, Tommy, but it's all just so much holo-pleasure, isn't it?"

Paris sat up, his relaxation thoroughly disrupted. "All right, Q, we'll bite. What do you want?"

Q sighed dramatically, removing his sunglasses. "Guys, I just don't understand your Captain. I've tried everything. Filling the Bridge with roses, writing Drabian love sonnets... Serenading her in her bath."

"Oh, I'll bet she loved that one," Paris snorted.

"But no matter what lengths I go to win her heart, she rejects me. Me! How, I ask you, is that possible?"

Kim crossed his arms. "Did it ever occur to you that she just doesn't like you?"

Q blinked, genuinely perplexed. "No."

Paris stood, grabbing his uniform jacket. "Look, Q, we've been told about your appearances on the Enterprise. We know your little visits usually turn out to be more than meet the eye. So save your broken heart routine, and tell us what you're really after."

"I just thought the two of you might give me some advice on how to break through Kathy's icy exterior. You know, man to man."

"My advice would be to give up before you embarrass yourself anymore than you already have." Paris nodded toward the exit. "Come on, Harry. We're not going to get a straight answer out of this guy."

As Paris and Kim departed, Q wandered over to the holographic tiki bar, dismissing the masseuses with a wave. He drummed his fingers on the bamboo countertop.

"Those two are the worst I could do for advice. I need someone who is good with the ladies. Like Jazzbeard. But Riker won't help me." He slumped against the bar. "There has to be someone..."

Who was good with the ladies and liked him enough to give advice? There had to be someone. One being in all the omniverse that fit the bill.

Q turned and noticed Neelix fussing around behind the bar, arranging bottles and wiping surfaces. "You, bar rodent, another one of these fruity concoctions." He pushed his empty glass forward.

Neelix stopped polishing a glass. "Not unless you tell me why you're bothering Captain Janeway."

"Captain Janeway?" Q perked up. "Now that's a subject I want to discuss. Tell me, what are some of her favorite things? Chocolate truffles? Stuffed animals? Erotic art?"

"You can't bribe Captain Janeway."

"Oh, no? Isn't that what you do?"

Neelix's spotted face scrunched in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I understand that you acquire things for her, create little interesting diversions, prepare little tasty treats. After all, why else would she be so fond of your fur-lined face?"

Neelix straightened, his expression hardening with unexpected dignity. "Do you want to know what Captain Janeway likes about me? I'll tell you. I am respectful, loyal and most of all, sincere. And those are qualities which someone like you could never hope to possess."

"Respectful, loyal, and sincere." Q mused. "I've got it!" He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a flash.

Captain Janeway sat in her ready room, reviewing the latest sensor data on her PADD. The supernova readings were fascinating, unprecedented carbon conversion rates that defied standard astrophysical models. She made a note to analyze the gravitational wave patterns when a soft, high-pitched sound interrupted her concentration.

Whimpering.

Coming from beneath her desk.

Setting the PADD aside, Janeway rose and circled around to investigate.

There, nestled in a wicker basket lined with a plush red cushion, was a cocker spaniel puppy with golden fur and brown eyes that looked up at her imploringly. The little thing couldn't have been more than eight weeks old, all floppy ears and oversized paws.

"This isn't going to work, Q," Janeway said firmly, though she couldn't help noticing the puppy's silky ears and tiny paws.

Q materialized beside her desk, beaming. "How can you ignore that face?"

"He's adorable, but this has to stop."

"Please, accept him as a small token of my affection." Q knelt beside the basket, scratching behind the puppy's ears. The little dog leaned into his touch, tail wagging furiously.

"No."

"Suit yourself." Q scooped up the puppy, cradling it against his chest. "May we talk? Just talk."

He moved to the bench beneath the windows overlooking the stars, settling there with the puppy. Janeway hesitated before reluctantly joining him, maintaining a careful distance.

"I'm afraid that I haven't been sincere." Q began, stroking the puppy's head. The little dog settled against him, content. "When you first asked why I wanted to have a child with you, I made jokes, bragged about my prowess, engaged in sexual innuendo. I was using all that to cover up my true feelings."

"And I suppose you want to share your true feelings with me now." Janeway's tone remained skeptical.

Q looked down at the puppy, his usual smugness replaced by something that almost resembled vulnerability. The silence stretched. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "I'm lonely."

"Lonely?" Janeway couldn't mask her surprise.

"Oh, I know it's hard to believe, but I've been single for billions of years. It was fun at first, gallivanting around the galaxy, using my omnipotence to impress females of every species." The puppy nuzzled against Q's hand. "The fact of the matter is, it left me empty. I want someone to love me for myself. I guess what I'm saying is, I want a relationship. I just thought if you and I had a child, it would give me that kind of stability and security that I've been missing."

Janeway studied his face, searching for the telltale signs of manipulation. But for once, Q met her gaze without his usual theatrical flourishes. No smirk. No eyebrow waggle. Just...emptiness.

"Sorry, Q. I'm not buying it."

Q passed the puppy to her. The warm bundle squirmed in her hands, looking up with those irresistible brown eyes. Soft fur, warm weight in her arms. The puppy licked her hand.

"Oh. All right. Let's see if you buy this." Q's voice softened, losing its performative edge. "You're stuck out here, thousands of light years from home, and you aren't getting any younger, are you? All your hopes for home, hearth and family grow dimmer every day."

He paused, letting the words sink in. Janeway felt something twist in her chest.

"Admit it, Kathryn, you're lonely too. And you wonder if you will ever have a child."

The puppy licked her hand again. For a moment, just a moment, Janeway let herself feel the weight of those words. The ache of time passing, of choices made and opportunities lost. Of command decisions that left no room for personal dreams.

"You're right. I would like to have a child someday." She met his eyes. "But not with you."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not the right kind of woman for you, Q."

"Truer words were never spoken." A new voice cut through the room, sharp as a blade.

Janeway turned to see a striking woman with auburn hair wearing a Starfleet uniform with Q's distinctive captain's pips. Her posture radiated disdain.

"Q! How did you find me?" Q jumped to his feet, his expression shifting to alarm.

"Never mind that. What are you doing with that dog?" The female Q's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene.

Janeway looked down at the spaniel. But the woman snapped, "I'm not talking about the puppy."

Both Janeway and Q's faces turned incredulous.

"Can't you see I'm busy here? Stop stalking me."

"You should be back in the Continuum." The female Q advanced into the room, her gaze fixed on Q with laser intensity.

Janeway stood, still holding the puppy. "Excuse me, but who are you exactly?"

"Kathryn Janeway, may I present Q," Q said with obvious reluctance.

"Not just any Q. His Q." The female entity's voice carried centuries of complicated history.

"We were involved for a while."

"About four billion years." The female Q circled them, her movements predatory. "And now you desert me to pollute the Continuum with the DNA of this narrow little being."

"I never said it was exclusive."

The female Q turned to Janeway. "Stay away from him."

"Look, Miss Q, I'll save you a lot of trouble. I have zero interest in him."

"Oh!" Q clutched his chest dramatically. "Now you see what you've done? And I was finally making progress."

The comm system activated. "Bridge to Janeway. You'd better come in here, Captain."

"On my way." Janeway handed the puppy back to Q, relieved for the excuse to escape. "I'd really appreciate it if you would take this domestic squabble off my ship."

Janeway left the ready room, stepping onto the bridge. The two cosmic entities followed.

Q mumbled to himself, "I was sure the puppy would work. Maybe a pet was the wrong approach. A pet project might be better. Respectful, loyal, and sincere. Plus someone who could give him advice?"

Lady Q picked up his mutterings and narrowed her eyes. "What was that, darling?"

Q snapped, "Stay out of my business."

Janeway took her place on the bridge. "Report."

Chakotay turned from the tactical display. "You're not going to believe this, Captain, but another star in this cluster just went supernova. It's point oh two light years from our current position."

"Make that two supernovas, Commander," Kim called out. "I just picked up another one at two one seven mark four seven. Estimated time of implosion, sixty seven seconds."

Janeway's stomach tightened. "Get us out of here, Tom."

Paris worked his controls frantically, shaking his head. "I can't. A subspace shock wave from the star is collapsing the warp field."

"Red alert. Tuvok, increase power to the shields. Tom, lay in a course away from that shock wave, maximum impulse."

The bridge darkened, emergency lighting bathing everything in crimson.

Janeway noticed Miss Q leaning against the rail with casual indifference, while Q stood further along, examining his fingernails.

"A star going supernova is an event that occurs once every century in this galaxy. Now we're about to witness our third in less than three days, all in the same sector." She fixed Q with an accusatory stare. "Why do I suspect you have something to do with this?"

The female Q straightened, radiating contempt. "She may be a member of an intellectually challenged species, but she's right. Your irresponsible behavior is continuing to have cosmic consequences."

"Will you stop overreacting? Always nagging. Now you see why I left her."

Janeway stepped toward him, patience evaporating. "Are you causing these supernovas?"

"Well, not exactly," Q hedged.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's no use, Captain," Paris interrupted. "The shock wave is too fast for us."

"Try evasive maneuvers."

Tuvok looked up from his station. "I'm afraid a course correction will be futile, Captain. There are now three distinct shock waves heading toward us on various trajectories. It will be impossible to avoid them all."

The viewscreen confirmed his assessment, showing multiple expanding spheres of destructive energy racing toward Voyager from different directions.

"Divert auxiliary power to the shields." Janeway turned to Q. "You have the ability to get us out of here, so do it."

"Sixteen seconds to impact," Chakotay reported. "I'm not sure if the shields will hold."

"Do something, Q."

Q sighed theatrically. "Well, if you insist."

He snapped his fingers.

Instantly he and Janeway vanished from the bridge in a flash of white light.

The female Q's face contorted with fury. "That two-timing toad!"

"Contact with the first shock wave within three seconds, Commander," Tuvok reported calmly.

Chakotay took command without hesitation. "All hands, brace for impact."

The first massive wave slammed into Voyager with devastating force. The ship bucked violently, consoles erupting in showers of sparks as crew members were thrown from their stations. The hull groaned under the strain as Voyager was tossed like a ship on water, tumbling helplessly through the void.

— Star Jumper —

On the bridge of the Enterprise-D, the crew maintained their stations with practiced efficiency.

"Captain, we've received communication from the freighter Lalo and from a farming colony on Coltar Four," Riker reported. "Both described the same time distortion. The Captain of the Lalo described it as a hiccup."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Hiccup?"

"Actually, sir, that may be an incorrect analogy," Data said from ops.

"How so, Data?"

"A hiccup is a spasmodic inhalation with closure of the glottis, accompanied by a peculiar sound. If we were to continue this analogy to a body function, what occurred would be best represented by a—"

"That's enough, Data." Picard raised a hand. "Have you been able to learn more specifics about the Manheim project?"

Data's fingers moved across his console. "All I have found, sir, is what you already know. Manheim was concentrating on time gravity experiments when he left."

"Captain, we've reached the coordinates specified," LaForge announced from the helm. "There's nothing here."

"I'm receiving new coordinates," Worf said. "It's a relay signal. Same source as the first one."

"What are they, Worf?" LaForge asked.

"Six six four point eight by one three two three point seven by four nine four nine point nine."

LaForge analyzed the figures quickly. "Very remote area, sir. It's in the middle of the Vandor system, a binary star system. Main star's a B-class giant, the companion star's a pulsar."

"Set course for the new coordinates, Mister LaForge."

"Aye, sir."

Riker frowned. "Why is he making it this difficult to find him?"

"Hopefully, he'll tell us, Number One." Picard glanced over at Tyson, who stood between the command chairs and the front consoles, off to the side by the ramp. "You look troubled, Commander."

Tyson shifted his weight. "I can't put my finger on it, sir."

The bridge fell silent as the Enterprise continued on its new course.

"We have reached the coordinates, Captain," LaForge finally announced.

"Sensors indicate it is Vandor Four," Data said, consulting his readouts. "A planetoid in elliptical orbit around the binary system."

"Standard orbit, Mister LaForge."

"Aye, sir."

"Give me a visual."

The main screen flickered to life, revealing the planetoid below.

"There's a small forcefield on the planet," Worf reported. "Latitude twenty degrees, nine minutes north. Longitude forty degrees, two minutes east of the present terminator."

"Penetrable?"

Data shook his head. "No, sir."

"Open hailing frequencies."

"Hailing frequencies open, sir," Worf confirmed.

Picard straightened. "This is Captain—this is the Captain of the USS Enterprise responding to your signal for help."

A woman's voice, strained with worry, came through the comm. "Enterprise, thank you for hearing us. Where are you?"

"We're in orbit around Vandor now."

"Then you can help me. I don't know what to do. It's only the two of us left. He's having convulsions. Please."

Picard turned to LaForge. "Can you lock on to her coordinates?"

"No, sir. The forcefield is preventing any kind of contact other than audio."

"There is a force field at your location," Picard said.

"Yes. I know."

"Good. But it is preventing us from helping you. Now, you must find some way to shut it down."

"I'll try."

The bridge crew waited, tension building as seconds ticked by.

"Force field is off," Worf announced suddenly.

"Good. Lock onto their coordinates. Beam them up directly to Sickbay." Picard tapped his combadge. "Doctor Crusher, prepare for a Medical Emergency. Two to beam directly up to Sickbay."

"We'll be ready, Captain."

Picard rose. "That's where I'll be. Number One, Mister Data." He looked at Tyson, who seemed to be staring off into space. "Mister Tyson, will you be joining us?"

Tyson refocused on the Captain. "Yes, sir." He followed Picard toward the turbolift, unable to shake his sense of unease.

The four entered Sickbay just as the transporter beam materialized, depositing a woman and a violently shaking man on the floor. Dr. Crusher rushed forward, medical tricorder already in hand.

"I'll help. Easy. Easy." She knelt beside the convulsing patient.

Tyson stepped forward without hesitation, bending down to lift the unconscious man. He picked him up effortlessly and placed him gently on the nearest biobed while Crusher prepared her instruments.

"How long has he been like this?" Crusher asked, running her scanner over the man's trembling form.

The woman, still catching her breath, pushed her hair back. "Several hours at least. He was in his lab, so I can't be sure."

"I need to do some tests." Crusher adjusted the biobed's settings.

Picard stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. "Er, I, er."

The woman turned.

Her eyes widened. Recognition flashed across her face, followed by something softer, more complicated. She stared at him for a heartbeat too long.

"Jean-Luc." His name came out almost breathless. "I thought the voice sounded familiar."

"Hello." The word came out stiff, formal. Wrong.

A faint smile played across her lips despite her obvious concern. "I should have known. Who else would have charged to my rescue?"

Picard cleared his throat. "This is my First Officer, Commander William Riker. Commander Tyson. Lieutenant Commander Data." He gestured to each in turn. "This is Jenice Manheim."

Riker nodded. "A pleasure, Mrs. Manheim."

"Thank you." Her attention remained divided between Picard and her husband.

"I have a number of questions for you," Picard said.

"I hope I can be of some help."

"Why don't we sit down?" He gestured toward the doctor's office.

Once seated in Crusher's office, Picard leaned forward. "You said there were only two of you left. What happened to the rest of the crew?"

Jenice's face fell. "They were working in the second lab. Something happened there a few weeks ago. They were all killed. It was a terrible accident." She shook her head. "I don't know exactly what happened. So many brilliant, wonderful minds, just gone."

"Do you know the nature of Doctor Manheim's work?" Data asked.

"Paul's always been interested in time. He's never believed that it was immutable, any more than space is immutable. Over the last decade, he came to believe that we reside in one of infinite dimensions, and what holds us here is the constancy of time. Change that, and it would be what he called opening the window to those other dimensions."

"Which begins to explain what happened," Riker said.

Jenice looked up sharply. "Have you been experiencing something up here?"

"Yes," Picard confirmed. "What is emanating here is having repercussions light years away, maybe even further."

"That would explain his anxiety. I had no idea it had gone so far beyond Vandor."

"Why this place? Why Vandor?" Riker asked.

"All I can tell you is Paul and the rest of the team searched for two years to find it. Vandor's exactly what they needed. A planetoid around a binary star."

"Because of the dense gravity of the pulsar," Data supplied.

Picard studied Jenice carefully. "Did your husband ever attempt to define these dimensions, give you an idea of what he expected?"

"No. But he did say that he was very close to proving his theories. And then the accident."

"Did he anticipate that these experiments might be dangerous?"

"I didn't think so. Now, in retrospect, he probably did." Jenice absently twisted her wedding ring. "That would explain all the unusual precautions he began taking, even before the accident. The force field, the elaborate security system. Every time he started a new experiment, he insisted that I stay in what he called a protected room."

"Ah, and that's why you weren't affected."

"Jean-Luc, he would never knowingly do anything to hurt anyone."

"Yes, I believe that."

Jenice's gaze softened as she looked at him. For a moment, the years fell away. The lines around her eyes, the gray threaded through her hair, none of it mattered. She was looking at him the way she had decades ago, with something between fondness and regret.

"This is not how I imagined seeing you again."

"Nor I you." Picard's voice dropped, losing its professional edge.

"You've done well. A great starship in the far reaches of the galaxy. It's everything you'd hoped."

"Not exactly. Nothing works just as you hope." The admission surprised even him. Picard straightened, rebuilding his walls. "If you can't tell us any more, I need to send a team down to the lab."

"You can't. It's protected. One of the other scientists made sure no one could get in."

Dr. Crusher appeared in the doorway. "Excuse me."

Jenice stood immediately. "Is he worse?"

"He's resting. But I'd like you to undergo some tests as well. My nurse will start them."

"Thank you for your kindness, Doctor."

Jenice moved to leave, then hesitated before Picard. She leaned in and kissed his cheek gently. Her lips were warm against his skin, the contact brief but weighted with decades of unspoken history. The scent of her perfume, something floral he half-remembered, lingered for a moment after she pulled away.

She followed Crusher's nurse without looking back.

After she left, Crusher noticed Picard's expression. "She's an old friend."

"I gathered that. It's her husband I'm more concerned with at the moment."

"What's the prognosis?" Picard asked.

Crusher's professional demeanor couldn't fully mask her concern. "I believe he's dying. His neurochemistry's been affected, but I don't know how or why. I've never encountered anything like it before."

"How long does he have?" Riker asked.

"Maybe a couple of days. It's hard to predict. All I can do is maintain him or attempt to maintain him until I find out what's causing the damage."

"Can we talk to him?"

"Not now. Not yet."

Picard turned to Tyson with a questioning look. "Can the Medical Bay help him?"

Tyson considered this for a moment. "Probably. The issue is that the Medical Bay may need days to work, depending on the severity of his injuries. If this is something more esoteric, he may be down for a week. If you need to speak with him or need answers, you won't be getting them."

"Without his help, I'm not sure we'll be able to pose any intelligent questions, let alone come up with any solutions," Riker said.

Picard shook his head firmly. "Agreed. That won't do. We'll keep it as a last resort."

Data tapped on a PADD. "Incidentally, Captain, the effects of the time distortions are now being felt in the Ilecom system. There has also been another supernova detected, five sectors away."

Picard turned sharply. "Another supernova? Mr. Data, what are the odds?"

Data paused, calculating. "If there is a supernova once a century in our galaxy, and we've detected two in the same day, within a few sectors of each other, the odds are approximately one in thirty-seven trillion, sir, rounded."

"That can't be a coincidence." Picard paced a few steps, his hand unconsciously tugging at his uniform jacket. "Is there any explanation for this, or relation to Manheim's work that you can correlate?"

Data tilted his head, processing for ten seconds before responding. "None, sir. No correlation that can be determined from his previous research."

Tyson, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke up. "Sir, I feel something is wrong with the supernova. It's not natural and it's not related."

Picard studied him carefully. "Is it this Cosmic Awareness you spoke of earlier, or that Force sense?"

"Both, maybe?" Tyson frowned, struggling to articulate the sensation. Something was crawling under his skin, an itch he couldn't scratch, a wrongness that set his teeth on edge. "I've never felt anything like this. The closest is the unusual sensation I felt when the NX-01's reality melded with the holodeck when I first arrived on the Enterprise."

"So this is Q's involvement then?"

Tyson shook his head, uncertainty clear on his face. "Usually when Q is the culprit, he shows up and mocks us first, or at least makes it obvious he's doing it. Something like a sudden shifting of your position, a disembodied voice, the hallmark signs of mischief." He paused. "There's none of that here. This is different."

The sickbay fell silent. Dr. Crusher continued her work on Manheim and his wife in the background, the soft beeping of medical equipment punctuating the silence.

Tyson seemed to mull it over. "I'll investigate the Q angle. I have a way of communicating that occasionally allows me to speak with him directly, when he deems it appropriate. I'll try that."

"Very well. We'll continue to investigate Dr. Manheim. Tyson, pursue your Q investigation. We need answers, and we need them now."

Tyson nodded. "Lieutenant Riker, Prieto, Yar, and Ensign Ro and Commander Remmick, to Sickbay."

When his fledgling crew arrived, Tyson stepped through the door to the Medical Bay within his Personal Reality with them in tow. The antiseptic scent and soft blue lighting gave way to something entirely different as he opened a portal into his Control Room.

The group followed him through, their eyes widening as they took in the space. The chamber looked similar to Main Engineering on the Enterprise, but with more monitors, holographic displays, and no warp core. Banks of equipment lined the walls, and holographic readouts hovered in mid-air, displaying information in multiple languages and formats.

"Command center for everything in this reality," Tyson explained, leading them across the room toward another doorway. "This way."

He guided them to the Antechamber, a smaller space with several doorways. Tyson scanned the walls, looking for the door to the Benefactor's Lounge that appeared on occasion, but the glowing doorway hadn't manifested.

"Damn." He ran his hand along the smooth wall where the door sometimes appeared.

"What's going on?" Ro asked.

"The Enterprise detected two supernovas, which Data confirmed are all but impossible. I feel like Q is involved, but he hasn't contacted or messed with me yet." He tapped the wall where the doorway should be. "Sometimes, I can speak with him by heading through this door, but it only appears when Q wants it to."

He led them back toward the Control Room. "For those of you who've never been here beyond the Medical Bay, this is the Personal Reality. This Control Room oversees everything from the Medical Bay to the Mystical Menagerie."

Tyson paused at a large central console, bringing up a three-dimensional map of what appeared to be Earth and its surrounding space.

"I really should make a tutorial and plan a tour, but for now, I'll just say the environment is based on the Sol system, and most of the structures are located in Europe on Earth, but a copy within this Reality..." He trailed off, his attention shifting to another display. "I suppose I should introduce you to the Iconic Interceptor. It's my ship."

Thomas asked, "You have a ship?"

He straightened up and addressed the air. "Vicky, change the configuration to something familiar."

A disembodied female voice responded immediately. "Sure thing, boss. It'll be just a minute."

Prieto startled slightly. "What was that?"

"That's Vicky. She's my Companion, but she's also an AI. She runs the ship, and a lot of other stuff."

"I'll meet you on the Interceptor, Lieutenant," Vicky's voice said.

Tyson tapped the communicator on his uniform. "She inhabits my uniform as well. It's a long story."

"Ready when you are," Vicky reported.

Tyson made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and a portal opened before them, revealing what appeared to be the bridge of a starship. "After you."

They stepped onto the bridge of the Iconic Interceptor. The layout was immediately recognizable: the command chair in the center, the viewscreen at the front, various stations positioned around the perimeter. It was nearly identical to the bridge they'd just left on the Enterprise.

Yar walked to the tactical station, running her fingers lightly over the controls. "It looks just like the Enterprise."

Tyson settled into the captain's chair, looking completely at home. "Because it is."

Ro walked a complete circuit around the bridge, examining each station with a critical eye before stopping beside Tyson. "Just not your Enterprise," she said to the others.

Remmick asked, "Does Starfleet Command know you have a ship?"

Tyson made a so-so gesture with his hand. "I don't advertise it, but I also haven't been asked about it directly. If they read the report about Armus closely enough, it's mentioned a few times." Tyson pointed at Remmick. When he spoke next, his tone was light, but it masked the seriousness of his threat. "Don't go snitching on me either. If you do, I definately won't make you First Officer."

— Star Jumper —

The crew of the USS Voyager picked themselves up from the deck, steadying themselves against consoles and bulkheads as the ship's emergency lighting flickered back to full power.

"Report," Chakotay ordered from the command chair.

Tuvok reported from tactical. "Shield strength is at twenty percent. Hull damage on decks nine through fourteen. Minor injuries reported on all decks."

"Warp drive is offline," Paris added.

Kim's eyes widened. "Commander, according to these readings, the shock waves have knocked us sixteen billion kilometres from our previous position."

Chakotay turned to the Female Q, who stood with arms crossed, looking more annoyed than concerned. "I want to know what's going on here. Where's Captain Janeway?"

"Let me go before I hurl this ship and everyone on it into the Therinian Ice Age."

"I don't think you can."

The Female Q scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I don't know how or why, but something's affected your powers. Otherwise, you wouldn't still be here, and you wouldn't have a bruise on your forehead." Chakotay stepped closer. "Now start talking before I hurl you into the brig."

With the bridge crew watching tensely, Chakotay led the Female Q to the briefing room. Once the senior staff had assembled, she paced around the table.

"There's a war happening in the Q Continuum," she finally admitted.

Chakotay leaned forward. "And it's the war in the Continuum that's causing the supernovas?"

"May we presume that this conflict is also responsible for the weakening of your powers and your inability to return to the Continuum?" Tuvok asked.

The Female Q rolled her eyes. "The Vulcan talent for stating the obvious never ceases to amaze me."

"How were Q and Captain Janeway able to re-enter the Continuum, and you weren't?" Chakotay pressed.

"I tried to return, but I was wounded in the process." She touched the bruise on her forehead gingerly. "Oh, don't try to understand it, it's far beyond your limited capacity to comprehend. What's important is, I'm stuck here with you mortals while Q is probably in the process of irreparably harming the Continuum with that woman." Her voice took on a bitter edge. "Tossed aside for someone five billion years younger. If it weren't so laughable, I'd cry."

Paris and Kim exchanged glances across the table.

"Look, we want our Captain back, and you obviously want to get home," Chakotay reasoned. "Why don't we help each other?"

The Female Q laughed sharply. "How could you possibly help me?"

"There's got to be some way to get back to the Continuum besides snapping your fingers."

She paused, considering. "Hmm. Well, there's one possibility. But somehow, I don't think this rickety barge or your half-witted crew members are up to the challenge."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "May I remind you, madam, that this rickety barge and its half-witted crew are your only hope at the moment."

The Lady Q sighed dramatically. "Oh, fine. I need access to your engines."

"Tuvok, can you escort her to engineering and have B'Elanna work with her?"

"Certainly, Commander. This way, please."

The Female Q rolled her eyes but followed Tuvok out, leaving the rest of the senior staff exchanging concerned glances.

Minutes later, the Female Q stood in Engineering with her arms crossed, watching B'Elanna Torres work at a console.

"Well?" the Female Q demanded.

Torres didn't look up. "Well, what?"

"Are you finished yet?"

Torres stopped typing and turned to face the Q. "What you've asked us to do requires a complete reconfiguration of the shield array. It takes a while. For us mere mortals, that is."

The Female Q paced along the edge of the warp core. "Surely there's some way you can speed up the process?"

"If you're in such a hurry, why don't you just snap your fingers and do it yourself?" Torres shot back. "Oh, that's right. You've lost your powers, and you need our help."

The Female Q stopped pacing and leaned against the console. "I don't think you understand. It's imperative that I get back to the Continuum before Q mates with your Captain."

B'Elanna pushed away from the console and moved to another station. "I understand perfectly. You aren't the first female who's ever had a man run out on her."

"I hope you're not comparing some failed romance in your pitiful existence to my eternal association with Q."

Lieutenant Carey, working nearby, suddenly found an urgent need to check systems in the adjacent section and quickly retreated.

B'Elanna slammed her hand down on the console. "You know, I have really had it with this superiority complex of yours."

"It's not a complex, dear. It's a fact."

Torres stepped closer to the Female Q, the two women now standing toe-to-toe. "Well, here's another fact. If you don't stop pestering me, I'm never going to finish. In which case, your association with Q might not be quite as eternal as you think."

The Female Q stared at B'Elanna for a long moment before her lips curled into an unexpected smile. "You know, I've always liked Klingon females. You've got such spunk."

Half an hour later, Lady Q was back on the bridge, sitting in the captain's chair. She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers impatiently on the armrest. The bridge crew exchanged uneasy glances.

"You, helm boy, adjust course to heading two three five mark zero eight. Increase speed to maximum impulse."

Paris looked over his shoulder at Chakotay. "Sir?"

Before Chakotay could respond, Kim's console beeped urgently.

"Er, Commander?"

"What is it, Harry?"

"She's put us on a direct course for another star about to go supernova."

The Female Q rolled her eyes dramatically. "You did say you wanted to get into the Continuum?"

"Yes, but in one piece," Chakotay countered.

She sighed as if explaining quantum physics to a toddler. "Try to wrap your minuscule mind around this. These supernovas are actually caused by spatial disruptions within the Continuum, the result of the war. Now, each time a star implodes, a negative density false vacuum is created, which actually sucks the surrounding matter into the Continuum."

Chakotay studied the viewscreen, where the distant star was already showing signs of instability. "So Voyager will be pulled in too."

"If we time it perfectly. Otherwise, the subsequent explosion will blow you all into microfragments."

Tuvok stepped forward. "Commander, I needn't remind you that close proximity to a supernova will crush us, whether or not we time it perfectly."

"You're so negative," the Female Q said with a dismissive wave.

Chakotay glanced between his tactical officer and their unwelcome guest. "He does have a point."

"Humanoids." She tapped her combadge. "Q to Engineering."

"Go ahead, Q," Torres's voice came through.

"Take warp drive offline."

Paris swiveled in his chair. "Commander?"

Chakotay held up a hand, silently instructing Paris to wait.

"Then remodulate the shields to emit a beta-tachyon pulse and prepare to emit a series of focused antiproton beams to the shield bubble."

Chakotay tapped his combadge. "Does this make any sense to you at all, B'Elanna?"

There was a brief pause.

"I'd be lying if I said I understood it completely, but if she's thinking what I think she's thinking, we should increase power to the shields by a factor of ten!"

The Female Q nodded approvingly at the ceiling.

"That's assuming, of course, that the shield bubble doesn't ignite and burn us all to a crisp," Torres added.

On the viewscreen, the star's corona was beginning to pulse erratically, sending out waves of superheated plasma. Paris monitored his console, sweat beading on his forehead.

"We'll be reaching the imploding star in thirteen seconds. I still have time to change course."

Chakotay stood still for a moment, weighing their options. The bridge fell silent except for the steady beeping of the consoles and the soft hum of the ship's systems. Every crew member watched him, waiting for his decision.

Finally, he straightened his shoulders. "Maintain your course. B'Elanna, take warp drive offline, remodulate the shields, and get ready to emit the antiprotons."

"Acknowledged."

The viewscreen showed the massive star growing larger, its surface roiling with plasma storms and magnetic disturbances. The bridge lighting flickered as Voyager's systems diverted power to the shields.

"Entering the star's corona in three seconds," Paris announced.

Chakotay gripped the back of the captain's chair. "Antiprotons now, B'Elanna."

There was a flash and a tugging sensation that the inertial dampeners couldn't completely compensate for, but then it was calm.

The viewscreen showed a yellow sun, from which it seemed they had just exited near its corona.

"Report. Where are we?"

But then the viewscreen panned.

The crew couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Earth.

The silence on the bridge was absolute. No one moved. No one breathed.

After a stunned moment, Paris whispered, "Home?"

Kim was leaning so far forward over his console that he looked ready to fall. Torres had emerged from engineering and stood frozen at the entrance to the bridge, one hand pressed to her mouth.

Tuvok's fingers moved across his console. "We're in the Sol system."

Kim's voice cracked slightly when he spoke. "But the readings are wrong." He checked and rechecked, as if hoping the numbers would change. "There are hardly any structures, no Starfleet Command. Earth's population is only a few thousand, mostly Vulcans." He looked up, confused. "And I'm reading nothing from beyond this system."

The hope that had bloomed on the bridge withered. Paris's shoulders slumped. Kim stared at his console like it had betrayed him.

Chakotay turned on Lady Q. "What is this? This is the Q Continuum?"

"Commander," Tuvok interrupted. "There's something else you should see."

The viewscreen shifted to display a large space station with several vessels docked alongside it, but there was one in particular that caught their attention. As they watched, the vessel disengaged and turned, moving toward their position. It had a recognizable configuration.

Paris squinted at the screen. "Is that the Enterprise?"

Tuvok consulted his tactical display. "The registration is NCC 1701-M."

"M?" Paris swiveled in his chair. "That can't be right. Why would they skip so many letters?"

"We're receiving a hail from the vessel," Kim reported.

Chakotay straightened his uniform. "On screen."

The image shifted to reveal a tall, brown-skinned, muscular man standing on what appeared to be the bridge of the Federation flagship. He looked as confused as they did.

"This is Commander Tyson. Excuse my confusion, I wasn't expecting your arrival..." His expression shifted from confusion to recognition. "I'll be damned if it isn't Voyager. But I don't understand. How did you get here? That shouldn't be possible."

Chakotay looked at Lady Q, drawing Tyson's attention to her. He'd overlooked her presence with everything else happening. "I'm Commander Chakotay, but I admit, you have me at a disadvantage."

Paris studied the viewscreen. "Scans report the vessel is similar to the Enterprise, but sir, that officer on the bridge is William Riker. I recognize him from pictures. The man was a hell of a pilot."

A bearded officer stepped into view behind Tyson. "Thanks, but I go by Thomas actually."

"Is this the Q Continuum?" Chakotay asked.

"Uh. No." Tyson answered.

Lady Q finally spoke up, rising from the captain's chair with a dramatic sigh. "Of course not. You mortals are so limited in your perceptions that you can't even enter the Continuum without us making it appear as something your primitive brains could perceive. What do you think would happen if we brought your ship into such a place? A rowboat in a hurricane, that's what. This is the closest we could get to the Continuum."

"If this isn't the Continuum, then why bring us here?"

Lady Q pointed at Tyson. "Because Q's little Pet Project is the only way to get me back."

"Me?" Tyson rubbed his temples. "This is not my department."

"Commander, we'd be happy to host you, so we can try to understand what Q needs and..." Chakotay hesitated. "Perhaps to get some explanations on this Earth. A few of our crew will be itching to understand."

"Agreed. I'll be bringing my science officer if that's alright."

"No problems here."

As the communication cut, Chakotay turned to his bridge crew. "Tuvok, with me to the transporter room." He gestured toward Lady Q. "Miss Q, if you please."

Before heading to the turbolift, he addressed Kim and Paris. "While I'm gone, get scans of everything you can. The ship, that station, this Earth. This Commander Tyson seems forthcoming so far, but I want to know everything about this place. I'm sure the captain will want to know it all when we get back."

Kim and Paris nodded in unison. "Aye, sir."

Minutes later, the transporter room hummed as two figures materialized on the pad. Tyson looked around in obvious enthusiasm, while beside him, T'Pol stood composed.

Chakotay stepped forward with an extended hand, which Tyson accepted. "Commander, welcome aboard."

"Thanks. My science officer, T'Pol."

T'Pol stepped forward, raising her hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. "Peace and long life."

Tuvok returned the gesture. "Live long and prosper. I am Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, chief of security."

T'Pol studied him with measured interest. "Your presence here is unexpected."

"We were attempting to access the Q Continuum when we arrived in this location."

"We've been stranded in the Delta Quadrant, trying to find our way home for nearly three years now," Chakotay added.

Tyson's expression shifted to sympathy. "I can only imagine your confusion. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. This isn't Earth. Well, it is, but not the one you're trying to get back to."

Lady Q interrupted, "If you're done with the pleasantries, we need to get to the Continuum."

"Right, heard you earlier, ma'am. But I'm not sure why you think I can get you there. Q never brought me to the Continuum, so I don't know why you think I can get you back. I have access to no technology that I know of that can travel to the Continuum, and for that matter, I don't know where it is."

Lady Q sighed, like she was speaking with a child. "How do your ships communicate with one another across vast distances?"

"Our vessels utilize subspace communications," T'Pol said. "The technology creates a field that exists in a different dimensional domain than normal space. This allows transmissions to propagate at speeds significantly faster than light. Subspace communications operate by generating a carrier wave that penetrates the barrier between normal space and subspace. The signal then travels through subspace, where the limitations of relativistic physics do not apply. This enables near-instantaneous communication across distances that would otherwise require years for conventional transmissions."

Lady Q nodded with a hint of approval in her expression. "Not entirely primitive after all." She began pacing around the transporter room. "The Continuum exists within subspace itself, though calling it merely 'subspace' is like calling your oceans 'puddles.' It's a dimensional plane that intersects with your reality at various points."

"Like the supernovas?" Chakotay asked.

"Those stellar explosions are manifestations of the conflict occurring in the Continuum. Each supernova represents a breach point between dimensions. The Continuum exists in what you might understand as a higher-order subspace domain. It's not merely a layer beneath normal space; it's a multidimensional construct that encompasses all of space-time."

Tuvok stepped forward. "If I understand correctly, you believe Commander Tyson possesses an ability to access this dimensional plane?"

Lady Q turned to Tyson. "Q has been particularly interested in you. He has been experimenting with you, giving or guiding you toward abilities that no human should possess. Including, I believe, the capacity to access the Continuum, or at least to serve as a conduit for someone who knows how to navigate it."

Tyson closed his eyes for a moment, mentally cataloging his Perks, Items, and Starships. The Inter-Reality Connecting Doors. The Trip Through The Looking Glass item. Playing With Portals. Nothing designed to interact with the Q Continuum as far as he knew.

"I'm not about to disagree with a Q. I defer to your superior intelligence. Just tell me what you need me to do."

Lady Q looked pleased. "At least one of you mortals knows your place."

Tyson wasn't even mad. She was depowered, and he had a trick or two that might work against a Q, but he didn't think for a moment that he was on even footing with them. The Q were cosmic entities beyond comprehension. Humility seemed the wisest approach.

"Your equation," Lady Q continued. "The one you use to transport onto ships moving at warp over great distances."

Tyson blinked. "Oh. The Transwarp Beam Equation."

"That's the one. It uses subspace as a medium for transportation, and with a few tweaks can be used to reach the Continuum."

T'Pol stepped forward, her curiosity evident despite her Vulcan restraint. "I see. The Transwarp Beam Equation operates on principles that allow matter to be converted to energy, transmitted through subspace, and reconstituted at the destination point only at relativistic velocities."

"Correct, but incomplete," Lady Q said. "The equation also creates a momentary intersection between subspace-dimensional planes. You're not merely moving through subspace; you're briefly traversing a higher-dimensional manifold. Its why subspace communication may take long amounts of time, compared to Transwarp Beaming."

T'Pol tilted her head slightly. "Such a traversal would require quantum tunneling on a macroscopic scale, violating several fundamental laws of physics."

"Your fundamental laws are quaint approximations. The equation works because it exploits a property of subspace that your science hasn't formalized yet, the multidimensional permeability of quantum boundaries."

Tyson cleared his throat. "Okay, who's going?"

Lady Q quickly pointed at him and then at T'Pol. "You and her are the only ones who might survive."

"Our Captain was taken," Chakotay interjected firmly. "One of us needs to go."

Tuvok stepped forward. "I will go. It is only logical."

"Alright, it's a plan. T'Pol, your objective is to protect Lieutenant Tuvok and retrieve Captain Janeway."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

"I mean no offense. She is far more capable than she appears."

T'Pol inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.

Tyson moved to the transporter console and began inputting the Transwarp Beam Equation. When he finished, he stepped back, allowing Lady Q to approach.

She studied the formula for a moment before adjusting several parameters. The equation on the screen transformed, becoming more complex, with symbols that weren't part of any standard mathematical notation.

T'Pol and Tuvok stared at the modified equation, both Vulcans studying it with identical expressions of controlled confusion.

"This formula makes no sense," T'Pol stated. "The dimensional constants are self-contradictory, and the quantum variables appear to be simultaneously defined and undefined."

"Indeed," Tuvok agreed. "The mathematical structure violates basic principles of logical consistency."

Tyson shrugged. "It wasn't made for mortal minds."

"That is illogical."

"Commander Tyson does much that goes against logic," T'Pol explained. "Yet still things tend to work out. It is equally vexing and comforting." The admission was so un-Vulcan, so revealing, that even Tuvok's eyebrow rose a fraction higher.

Lady Q finished her adjustments and stepped back from the console. "There. This should allow us to traverse into the Continuum. I cannot guarantee where exactly we'll arrive. The Continuum is in chaos due to the civil war. But if nothing's changed, we should be near or even inside Q's base of operations."

"Will we be able to return to Voyager immediately?" Tuvok asked.

Lady Q's expression turned serious. "Once you find Q and your captain, he should be able to return you. If not..." She left the sentence unfinished. "Oh, if you encounter any hostile Q, do not attempt to block their attacks. However, your primitive minds may interpret their weapons, it's just that, an interpretation. Your energy weapons and force fields will be wholly ineffective."

"Good to know," Tyson said.

Tyson, T'Pol, and Tuvok moved to the transporter pad, positioning themselves in a triangle formation. Tyson looked at each of his companions, then at Chakotay and Lady Q.

"Alright, one-way trip to the Q Continuum. Last call. Last chance to backout."

Chakotay moved behind the console, his hand hovering over the controls.

"Energizing."