by Michael O'Brien
USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-D
Behind it, the sparking remnants of Enterprise-C drifted lifelessly through space, holed through and through by Klingon attacks. Lieutenant Castille and his crew had fought valiantly, but a half-repaired ship of outdated design hadn't had a chance against it's alien enemies.
And now we'll never know if Guinan was right, Picard thought. If that wormhole had stayed open only hours longer, Enterprise-C could have been repaired enough to send back. Now her daughter dies with her; and the Federation is soon to follow.
"That'll be the day," Picard growled. His eyes met Tasha's and Data's. The android called a few last ergs of power from the dying starship; and Yar found a functioning phaser array to spit Enterprise's last.
The Klingon guns discharged in return.
Starfleet Command, San Francisco, Terra
Without pausing, he turned to her, drew his disruptor, and fired it into her midsection. She jerked back and spun to the right, landing on her side and cracking her head against the flooring. Blood oozed briefly from the wound, then stopped.
He raised his sidearm high.
"I claim this planet for the Emperor!!"
The assembled Klingons raised a cheer.
Starfleet Intelligence Shipyard Seven
Jerry grimaced at the waste, then shifted the display over to the underground sections, where he sat now. This graphic was much larger, and drawn in healthy yellow. According to the readout, a large percentage of the drydock's staff had made it down before the attack commenced.
Fleet Intelligence actually came up with a plan that worked, Jerry thought. And now, it's all in my lap.
He stared at the screen a bit longer, then pushed it away. I'll have to get in touch with some folks, and the standard channels won't do much good. I wonder who's captaining V'Talia's old ship these days?
Co-ordinates unknown
He leaned his wiry body back in his chair, running a hand through shaggy brown-blond hair. The Federation was dead now, fallen like human empires since time recorded. He wondered how many of his old friends had died with it - not that many of them weren't gone already. Certainly Valev had been killed, and probably Casolapia and Llandhe. If a ship carried warp drive and Starfleet numbering, the Klingons had shredded it.
Jerry had probably survived; he'd received some desk job in the middle of nowhere a while back. And Ty'elle Dujhar had quit the Fleet not long after Grin had. Gods knew where Nebula was; and half the others lived on senior citizens' pensions around human space - or what used to be human space.
Grin looked up. He'd wandered without thinking from the library, through the kitchen, into the workshop. Ultra-tech toys from a dozen realities sat in here: Grin's Switchblade mecha, one of Ty's Ultrainfinidrive prototypes, some grotesque project Wildkatt M'Kaivver had abandoned decades ago and given to Grin; but Grin found himself scrutinizing his TARDIS. What was his subconscious trying to tell him?
What else? It was time to leave.
The timeship hummed quietly, circulating cool air with a faint scent of plant life through the spotless, dustless white corridors. He might have been in here only yesterday, not years ago as was the truth. Grin finished moving the few items he wished to keep into the endless interior of the time machine. The library and the workshop made up the greatest part of it; the TARDIS itself could provide for his other needs. Finally, he stood at the six-sided table of the main controls, realizing that though he'd made his decision to leave, he had no actual idea where he should go.
The future? This galactic arm now belonged to the Klingons, who would soon be attacked by the Romulans, who might rule a few years before the Borg and/or the Cardassians put in their claim. Grin wasn't interested in that future.
The past? Nothing like a few temporal paradoxes to ruin one's existence, or possibly erase it. Besides, he'd have to start a new life knowing his old one continued to unfold nearby. There would be no refuge in the past; Grin's only choice lay not forward or backward, but sideways.
The Multiverse Device controls blinked silently at him, waiting for his touch to take him to other realities. And where to go? Seattle: 2050, his base in one reality? Outreach: 3038, the center of visits to another? New Macross: 2012? Minas Tirith?
A brief smile crossed his face as he remembered two young, half-dressed lady troubleshooters from a version of Tokyo, 2145; they'd spent a week on Wrigley's together after handing the 'Black Hat' aliens a temporary setback many years ago. Funny, really; whatever the aliens' 'master plan' had been, it hadn't held up against the determined attacks of Grin'elle and his friends. In fact, they'd been incredibly quiet for the last twenty-five years...
A clear, sharp memory of the readout on a display screen jumped to the front of his brain, and he reeled under the weight of sudden revelation. Suddenly he understood what the confusing alien diagram had said.
Simple, subtle, and deadly - and they did it right under our noses!
Alien Asteroid Base
It had happened half a century ago, but the TARDIS arrived less than an hour after its previous departure. Grin stepped through the hatch into a dark, smoke-filled control center filled with the smell of scorched alien flesh. Several bodies littered the flooring, but the time traveler paid no attention. Instead he moved to one of the few functioning consoles, one that still displayed the haunting image from his past. Once, the information displayed appeared meaningless and arcane; but Grin'elle Kriet had since seen and learned much more.
These beings knew much about time, and used their natural abilities to alter their own reality; then an offer of great wealth and power came to them, if they would bring their talents to a new universe and, aided by advanced science, mold it to the desires of their new allies. Grin thought he'd prevented that; but he'd only parried a feint. Now, instead of an ounce of prevention, he'd need a pound of cure.
Grin'elle finished downloading what he could. There'd be more analysis ahead, but he'd seen enough to concoct a basic plan. The first item on his mental checklist could be crossed off. To complete the next, he'd need the help of a dead woman.
Starfleet Intelligence Shipyard Seven
Ty'elle Dujhar came up behind him, taking in the awesome sight as well. He also showed his age by walking with a delicate gait, but his gaze was no less steady than Jerry's. He wore a gray paramilitary jacket over sturdy, nondescript traveling clothes.
"Jerry, one thing hasn't changed: you're still crazy."
"...after all these years?" Jerry singsonged.
"Cute. The word's gone out, and you've got a couple hundred people: from total greenhorns who lost their ship before they could meet it, to utter fossils like me and Teyp Wolcait. But by the same token, loose lips are gonna bring the Klings back sooner than later. You really think you'll be ready?"
The admiral looked out. Suspended in the Fleet Intelligence shipyard, the spine of a dreadnought supported two warp nacelles. Just above, where a third engine once sprouted, an entire Loknar-class destroyer hung. Dock workers slowly brought it into position over the connecting dorsal fin, preparing to mate the two ships into one. Fleet had learned long ago that odd-numbers of nacelles were more trouble than their worth.
"The Federation no longer exists," Jerry said quietly. "Those of us who wear the uniform do so out of a vanity, almost as if to pretend it hasn't happened.
"Well, it has!" His voice grew louder. "I can't bring it back; I'm not planning to try! What I want to do is remind the Klingons that any victory over humanity is a victory paid for dearly! I want them to remember that you don't count us dead until you've seen every body, and then you'd still better watch your back!"
His fist thudded against the transparent aluminum port, and his voice dropped again. "I want to go out fighting."
Ty looked at the activity, and imagined the clean new hull plating gashed with the scars it would soon receive. "What are you going to call her?"
"U.S.S. Enterprise. NCC-1701...E."
Ty nodded. "Guess I better go bone up on helm operations." He paused. "One question, Jerry... the operation that gave you your legs back?"
"What about it?"
"Didn't Dr. Winding Creek refuse to try it on humans because of the risk involved?"
A short silence followed. "A little risk is the last thing I'm worried about right now," Jerry said, almost to himself. Ty nodded and left the room quietly.
Starfleet Intelligence Shipyard Seven
Jerry felt a tickle at the back of his neck. "Status?" he asked Yanni Miller, who held Ops.
"All systems normal, Jerry. Launching in T-minus seventy-two minutes - hang on..." Valev's head snapped around. "External sensors are picking up a single D7-R class cruiser approaching at high impulse." Alarm klaxons began to sound. "He is firing photon torpedo at the shipyard's asteroid shell. Estimated penetration in three minutes."
Valev nodded once at Jerry, and darted into the turbolift. Jerry swung into his command chair. "All personnel aboard?"
"Confirmed, sir."
"Go to red alert. Power status?"
"Seventy-one percent."
"Weapons?"
"Phasers at cold standby; we can have them in two minutes. Photorp tubes 3 and 4 at ready. 1, 2, 5, and 6 are at standby."
"Load tubes 3 and 4 to full capacity. Standby for half impulse on my mark. Seal all ports and release moorings."
Char'Al half turned to him. "Sir, some of the secondary lines won't auto-release for another forty minutes."
Jerry smiled slightly. "Oh, yes they will. Half impulse, now! Fire torpedoes, screen pattern Beta!"
Outside, the Klingon cruiser fired again. Intelligence reports indicated the presence of an concealed Federation base in this asteroid, and by the naked stars, the cruiser's captain intended to crack it open.
He was amazed at the power of his next burst. A section of the asteroid shattered, peppering his shields with small impacts. When his sensors cleared, a massive Federation starship lifted into view. Frantic, the Klingon captain barked orders. He'd been led to believe that a few dozen refugees had massed here to conspire against the Empire with a few shuttles and trader craft!
The Klingon arced away, grasping for maneuvering room and firing poorly-aimed rear torpedo, each of which splashed against Enterprise-E's deflectors. The starship spun gracefully about, as though it had all the time in the world.
Char'Al looked down at her controls, ears swiveled forward in surprise. "Captain, we have full power to the forward phasers!"
"Photorp tubes recharged?"
"Yessir!"
"All you've got, then; right up his ass."
Four searing lines of phaser energy converged in one point on the Klingon's aft shields. The first torpedo hit that spot, and his deflectors flared and fell; the second ripped into his Engineering section and detonated. Engine nacelles and command pod spun away in three different directions. Char'Al sliced the pod apart, just to be sure.
"Bridge to Engineering."
"Dujhar here, Jerry."
"Well done on the phasers, Ty. How'd you manage this one?"
"Something Commander M'Kaivver showed me once. I'd love to give you details, but he said that if I told anyone, the Brotherhood would come get me."
"What Brotherhood?"
"Search me."
Jerry shook his head, grinning. "Fine. Ty, come to the Bridge when you have a moment. There's something I'd like you to do..."
Co-ordinates unknown (the Triangle)
The bar did have a name, though there was no bother with a sign over the door. The 'Dark Matter' didn't advertise its presence; a flashy exterior would only have been vandalized, and word-of-mouth provided more than enough publicity.
Inside, the decor remained simple. The saloon still looked like a warehouse, and plenty of people paid to store items of occasionally dubious nature there. Industrial-strength ventilation barely kept the air breathable, and the bartenders could mix drinks from a thousand planets and knew which ones never to mix for any of a hundred lifeforms. The tables and chairs were single-piece extruded plastics that wouldn't break over a brawler's head or take the carved initials of a drunkard's latest doxy.
April Vincent had been born here a century ago, and in the end, had returned to what she knew.
Absently, April brushed her waist-length, space-black hair out of her beautiful face as she bent over a week's accounts. War may have brought shortages of liquors and fast foods, but no shortage of customers. And if one week she didn't have a particular mixer, the customers didn't seem to care that badly.
The office showed a stark contrast to the world outside. Expensive paintings hung on the paneled walls, softly lit by almost mathematically placed lamps. Shelves covering one wall groaned under the weight of electronic media in text, a/v, and pure audio formats. She still sang, and still reveled in the ability to bring an awed hush to a room full of hopeless drifters and cynical profiteers.
April looked at her watch. She had a set in a few minutes. She efficiently tidied her paperwork and locked delicate items in the desk safe, tested the thousands of tiny lights woven into the fabric of her stage outfit, and picked up a wireless microphone. She shut off the room lights and had just leaned over to turn off the desk lamp when the door opened, silhouetting a figure in the harsh hall illumination.
"If you're taking requests for the evening's show, I'd love to hear 'Remember Me.' It's a personal favorite."
She froze, refusing to look up. In the dim light, Grin couldn't see the expression on her face until she raised her head, and by then she'd had ample time to construct the blank mask and thin smile that he saw.
"Grin'elle Kriet. Of all the gin joints on all the worlds in all known space, you walk into mine. You sure took your time."
"I'd have found you sooner, but you're supposed to be dead."
"I got better."
"So I heard." He looked at her. "Dammit, why?"
"What else could I do but leave, Grin'elle? It's not easy to live with a man who blew up a planet."
His hands curled into fists. "I'll say this once: I had nothing to do with that. If anybody should know that, you should; you were there!"
She turned away. "Of course I knew that. But Starfleet blamed you anyway; you, and Ty, and Llandhe, and all the others. You changed, Grin. You changed, and no one could speak to you. You started disappearing for weeks at a time, and every time you came back, you eyes were darker. Darker, and darker."
April wrapped her arms around herself, then turned to look him straight in the eye. "The Grin'elle Kriet I finally left could easily have killed those three million people. And he wouldn't have cared."
She swept the microphone from the desk where she'd set it. "I've got people out there waiting to hear me sing. You can stay for the show, or run off again. It's up to you." She hit the last light, and shut the door behind her, leaving him in total darkness.
Kriet waited until he heard the shouts and applause that announced the beginning of Nebula's show, then glided out front. She basked in the glow of her native element, there on the small stage; and even the rowdiest alcoholics soon quieted under the power of her song. Grin'elle felt as if his heart was dissolving and melting into his stomach. She sang of hopeless love and goals always unreached, twisting the knife in his wounds. She knew he stood in the audience.
"Now it's time to set course into deepest blackest night
There's no wind in my sails but the push of solar light
Once I might have remained but there's nothing for me here
Now I search for my soul in mankind's final frontier
Promises melt away like a fog that's hit by sun
Only now can I see what a fool I have become
If there's light, if there's hope, it must wait in darkest space
Some untouched virgin world where my heart can be replaced
Scientists make the claim that we've learned all that there is
Mystics swear wars are won with a single person's kiss
All the theories, all the guesses, there's not one of them comes near
What they can't understand is that love's the final frontier...
In the last dozen years no one's mapped the human heart
In the last hundred years lovers often grew apart
In the last thousand years none have mastered the cruel art
But if I'm to stay sane I must try to make a start...
Solar breeze in the sheets, and my ship is on its way
No more words, no more promises, I can no longer stay
It's a foolish hopeless quest, yet my heart's not touched with fear
In the stars, I'll find love, and breach the last frontier..."
He endured as much of it as he could, then returned to her office to await the final episode of the night's entertainment.
USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-E
The auxiliary warp reactor in her secondary hull kicked to life, and Enterprise Combat-2 performed a hasty Picard Maneuver, releasing its full forward armament into one of the Klingons as the two ship's shields sparked with physical contact. The battleship shuddered as its shields collapsed, and a flurry of phaser fire drilled into its warp core.
Char'Al, at Ops this time, announced tensely to Jerry, "Klingon reactor reaching critical point!"
"Warp power, Mister! Get us some distance!" he barked at ex-Commodore Miller, but the veteran officer had already entered the command. Combat-2 had reached the same conclusion, and she arced away as a matter-antimatter explosion engulfed one Klingon and battered and tore at the other. A spread of rear-firing photorps from Combat-1 sealed the second ship's fate.
Char'Al reported, "Captain, the remaining Klingon has taken heavy damage. All electronic systems randomized and non-functioning." Her ears folded back against her head. "Their life support should last another twenty-four hours. Maybe."
Chatter behind Jerry covered the return of Combat-2 on an intercept course for docking. "Could they get any message out?" he asked.
"Not soon enough, sir. They won't be moving anytime soon, and subspace radio will not pierce the radiation cloud for another two solar days."
"All right," Jerry said in final tones. "Leave them." It wouldn't be the first inhuman act in this war. It wouldn't be the last, either.
With a faint jar, the Enterprise became one ship again. A picture of the other bridge appeared on the main screen, showing the severe countenance of Valev Nibor.
"Two more down, Jerry," the Andorian said with a thin smile. "A shame there's nothing left in their computers for us to loot this time." Someone handed him a report padd from offscreen. "We took a bit of a battering; the main damage control computer will be getting all the details." He cocked his head. "Resistance is getting a bit heavy out here, and I'm wondering if they're on to us. Do you still wish to continue with this plan?"
"Valev, those who refuse to learn from history are doomed to repeat the freshman course. If we screw up their supply lines, we can defeat half their fleet without firing at it."
"Hmm. I suppose it still sounds better than a frontal attack; I just wonder if there's anybody in known space out here helping us."
"You're not the only one. Ty Dujhar's using the fastest courier we could find to check that out."
The 'Dark Matter'
Grin watched her office door open over the wheeling view of the holo display. Whatever Nebula had meant to say as she entered her office vanished as the recording drew her attention. She stared, mesmerized, until a the song reached a brief pause during its climax.
Her knuckles whitened on the microphone she still held. "This is what's wrong; this right here. I know that's my voice. The song and the music are just as I would have written them. But damn you, Grin'elle Kriet, I never wrote or recorded that song!" Nebula slapped the STOP button hard enough that the whole mechanism jumped. Something must have come loose, for the player began repeating a snatch of the song: "The final round -"
"The final round -"
"The final round -"
"The final round -"
"You wrote it in Seattle, North America, Earth, in the year 2050 A.D. I fought a battle there, part of what I've only now discovered is a way covering millennia and universes."
He would have explained further, but she stopped him with a sharp glance. "Like the ship with the singer, Athene. And the battle aboard Yeager that killed its Chief Engineer."
"Yes."
Nebula looked away from him. "Are there many other me's out there?"
"I think so. I don't know."
"Have you slept with any of the others?"
He blew up. "What kind of question is that, anyway? That's my business, not yours!"
She sank into the opposite seat. "Uh-huh." Grin stared at her, but she'd closed her eyes. "You saved my life in that other New York, and gave me so much that I wanted - I left Starfleet not long after you did, you know. You were intelligent, deep, even handsome; I loved more than I ever loved anything - and you just pushed me away! I knew there was someone else. For a while I had to wonder if it was that damn fighter plane; but how could I have guessed that I... was the..." Tears started racing down her cheeks.
He looked at April, speechless. Perhaps he thought of a regal, cold beauty; a blond time-sensitive; an albino empath; or a red-haired mercenary. Grin'elle himself couldn't say what went through his mind.
"I know why you came," she said. "I knew it when I first saw you, even if I don't know what you need it for." Nebula held up the microphone she carried, then rolled it across the desk. It bumped into the holo player halfway.
"Tell the past goodbye -"
"Tell the past goodbye -"
"Tell the past goodbye -"
Grin picked up the object that was no longer a microphone. The device was silver, a half meter long, and sculpted slightly at one end, as if to provide a handgrip.
The Mutor.
"Will that win you your war?" she asked.
"I've managed to hurt every woman I've ever loved," he said. "In three hundred years, I've still not figured out how to stop doing that. I hoped that if I tried not to love you, you wouldn't get hurt."
"You botched the second part. Did you get the first half right?" Her eyes shone as they looked deep into his.
"I... I don't know," he whispered.
A voice from outside broke the spell. "She's in there, but I think she's got a visitor."
"Good," a familiar voice answered. "I need to see him too." The door opened, and in strode Ty Dujhar.
"Hello, Grin; Ms. Vincent," he greeted them. "Jerry Conner and I were just fighting a one-ship war against the entire Klingon empire, and we said to ourselves: you know, there's something missing from this picture. Who do we usually think of when we think about galaxy-spanning calamity?"
"It's nice to see you, too, Ty," Grin said. He shoved the Mutor into a pocket. "I was just on my way to see you folks; unfortunately, the TARDIS and I have a final side trip to make beforehand."
"Why don't I come along? The TARDIS will get me back to the captain before my ride would. Besides, man, you need some looking after."
A small smile crossed Nebula's face. "Of that, there is no arguing."
Grin turned to her. "I think we have unfinished business..."
"So we have for decades, Grin'elle. I'm not going anywhere; I have a bar to run." The smile got wider. "You know, in a little bit, the Nazis are supposed to come in and demand what I just gave you. Luckily, I'm a little better armed than Marion was."
"Luckily. Don't worry; they'll know exactly where it is - with me."
"Yeah." The smile faded. "Where are you going now?"
"I've got to go see the last woman I fell in love with. After all, I knew I'd never see her again." He shook his head bitterly. "What a universe."
She held up a hand as he moved toward the door. "Don't give up on me this time, Kriet."
He looked at her sadly, and nodded. They were gone; and briefly, just briefly, she felt the universe unravel slightly. She shivered.
USS-Enterprise, NCC-1701-E
Unfortunately for them, the crew of Enterprise-E weren't expecting to live much longer anyway. All they wanted to do was take along the biggest honor guard possible. Six Klingon cruisers weren't enough.
Enterprise ducked and weaved, popping in and out of warp like a frightened rabbit. This rabbit had teeth; four tubes' worth of photon torpedo made dust out of a Klingon captain who'd made unfortunate decisions about deflector power allocation.
"New heading 177 mark 20," ordered Conner. "Recharge tubes and hold fire. Upper phaser arrays, target Epsilon and fire. Standby for warp on my command."
"Rear tubes, pursuit spread to cover warp," Nibor advised his bridge crew on an inset at the upper right of Conner's main screen. The rest of the screen showed wheeling stars and angry Klingon ships. "Captain Conner, should we separate?"
"Negative. I want to keep that move in reserve. Standby your forward phasers."
"Roger."
"Helm, warp... unwarp! New heading 357 mark 340!"
Char'Al forced responsiveness from the huge dual starship, as a group of two Klingons shot past them in warpspace. Impulse drives threw them at the triangular formation of the other three, a pair in front and the other hanging back.
Nibor snapped, "Port and starboard arrays, diversionary fire. Aft tubes, recharge and pursuit dump again." Quaver Rhapsody, blue hair a little grayer, entered the commands like a man born to doing five things at once.
Enterprise screamed past the two vanguard cruisers, spotting them with snap phaser shots that did little damage. The cruisers damaged each other much more with badly tracked disruptor shots.
The rear cruiser swelled in Enterprise's screens, redlining its disruptors and trying uselessly to break away. The Klingon fire fizzled out against shields powered by two starship warp reactors.
Conner and Nibor, concentrating totally on their respective displays, shouted, "Fire!" at the same moment. Two full forward phaser arrays screamed destructive radiation. The Klingon came apart as the two ships which had leaped into warp dropped out into a field of waiting photorps from Enterprise's rear launchers. They banked impossibly into evasive turns -
And ran into their recovering comrades who were still shaking off friendly fire. Delta ran full into Beta at maximum impulse, while Iota only clipped Alpha. The results were the same, and lit Enterprise's receding hull in red-orange fireworks.
"Klingon threat eliminated," Char'Al reported, hyperventilating slightly.
"Klingons. Never an original tactic among 'em," Jerry breathed. "Stand down. Yellow alert until we've verified that reinforcements aren't imminent; those last folks turned up much sooner than I would have figured. Miller, where are we?"
"20 parsecs out from Narendra, sir. Where Enterprise-D died."
"Any activity?"
"Long-range scans negative."
"Good. Bring us in, we'll orbit for repairs. Command briefing at 20:00 for tactical planning; we'll have to decide what's next."
Char'Al glanced over her shoulder. "When is Captain Dujhar scheduled to return, sir?"
Jerry breathed deeply. "That is one excellent question, helmsman."
The TARDIS
Ty drank in the experience of riding in the time machine. "This is really neat, you know. Not as thrilling as a Valkyrie mecha, but major high-tech beepy-flashy. It hardy feels like we're moving!"
"We're not, yet," Grin answered as he moved from one lever to another. "We've only dematerialized; call it a holding pattern. Programming for cross-reality jumps - pardon me; thank you - is a very tricky business."
"Where are we going?"
"Seattle, Earth. 300 years ago or so." Grin straightened up. "That's got it. Here we go." He typed a command into one of the keyboards dotting the six panels. The hum changed to a juddery scraping noise, and the central column began moving faster and flashing brightly. It apparently made sense to Grin, because he nodded in a satisfied manner.
Ty put his hands on his hips. "Grin'elle?"
He looked up. "Hmm?"
"Could you perhaps, now that I can't back out of this, tell me exactly what we're doing and why?"
Grin turned his head and regarded Ty from the corner of his eye. "It's a long story..."
"No sweat. We're in a time machine, aren't we? We can't be late."
"That's what you think."
Ty leveled a sharp stare at his foster brother.
"Okay, okay. I guess it all began during a trip to Wrigley's that the Pathfinder took. You'd taken your own command by then, and we'd just had a string of missions that, while not earth-shattering, really wore us out. Command gave us permission for leave, and we took it there.
"A group of mercenary aliens in the pay of a different, anonymous group, used a potent mix of technology and psychic energy to envelop the planet and the orbiting dreadnought in a time loop, sealing us away from the universe forever."
"Oh, right," Ty commented. "They figured a little time loop could confine a ship full of crew so weird that Fleet stuck 'em there to keep a watch on 'em?"
"It almost did."
"Almost only counts with water balloons and photorps."
"True. But the puppet masters only lost a few expendable mercenaries, and gained valuable knowledge of our abilities. Furthermore, it served as a useful distraction for another project of theirs.
"What abilities are you talking about?"
"My TARDIS. Your knowledge of the structure of reality. Kam Kazsis' mystic dilithium. Jerry Conner's tactical skills. The list goes on, but the point is that back then, Batron 11 represented some of the top unnatural talents of the humanities.
"We took to calling the enemy the Black Hats. They remained unseen, preferring to fight from backstage. When the revolution on Gallifrey began, it was no accident that our names came to the attention of both sides. If either of us had remained on Gallifrey - alive or dead - it could have furthered their plans."
"Why us?"
"My TARDIS and your Ultrainfinidrive can reach any reality, at any time, in any place. Destroying your enemy's mobility is a classic tactic."
"So the Megazone incident would have wiped out the Earth-humanity of that universe, and taken you out as a bonus."
"Don't be modest, friend. I'm sure that when the Batron showed up, they would happily have cashed in all our chips. I think Nebula is very dangerous to them."
"Why?"
"Reply hazy. Ask again later."
The light patterns changed in the central column, and it began oscillating faster. Several darkened displays on one panel lit up, showing information Dujhar could just barely make sense of.
Kriet grabbed hold of a rail crudely bolted to the lip of the console. He smiled thinly. "Hold tight. We're about to leave one illusion for another."
The 'Dark Matter'
Several beings moved around the place, overturning tables, emptying drawers, and generally being destructive. April stood unnoticed in the doorway until she commented loudly, "If you folks are supposed to be the cleaning crew, I sure hope you're bonded."
Heads snapped around to look at her. One of the humanoids approached her, walking strangely and hissing through a translator device on its neck. It stood somewhat over two meters tall, had gray skin, and extra joints in its limbs. April felt nauseated, despite years spent around alien life forms.
"Where is Kriet?" it gargled.
"I dunno. He told me you could find him yourselves, but then he always gives people too much credit."
Its eyes narrowed, and it motioned to its companions. "Take her."
April brought up the rifle, and fired. A two-centimeter beam sprang from the aperture, connecting the weapon and the alien's forehead. It just stood there, not even seeming to notice.
"Your weapon cannot harm me. We have recently leaned much about your technology." It looked again at April, and seemingly through her. "Kriet is not here!" it announced to its fellows.
"Intercept Group reports contact in the Time Vortex. Craft identified as Kriet's time capsule."
"Return to the ship. Divert all power to Intercept Group. Kriet will not escape." The lead alien turned back toward April. "This woman, however, possesses secrets we can use."
April finally released the rifle's trigger, looking at a brief but eventful future as a lab animal. She didn't think she liked the idea.
The TARDIS
Ty Dujhar jerked awake guiltily. The ceiling and one wall of the TARDIS was missing, displaying various lighting and video equipment. A couple dozen tired-looking people stood at assorted control panels scattered through the machinery.
A man wearing a headset stalked up to him. "Look. I know it's Friday, and we're all exhausted; but the effects budget on that console is just too big for you to keep forgetting your blocking and standing in front of the displays!"
"I'm sorry -" Ty said automatically. He looked over at Grin, but the ex-Time Lord stood immobile, eyes hooded and fixed on the console.
The man wiped away sweat. "Okay. Would you like a break? I can give you five to grab some munchies."
"Err, no. That's okay," Ty said, quite confused.
"All right. Rick, why don't we try the next scene? The setup's identical; we can come back and try this one again afterward." He listened to his headset for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Next scene, folks. Places... and... action!"
The Time Vortex (the TARDIS)
"Dude," Grin was saying, "no offense, but why don't you back away from the console a bit? You're sort of in the way."
Dujhar looked around the control room, somewhat bewildered. "Yeah; so I was told."
"What?"
The TARDIS shook with a concussion Ty felt in his rib cage. Grin grabbed the makeshift rail; Ty fell on his rear. A chime like a city-sized bass gong began sounding. One-handed, Grin started pounding at the scanner controls.
"Even I don't have to ask this time. We are in trouble," Ty observed. Grin didn't answer, but the main scanner did by opening and showing the raging chaos of the Time Vortex. The internal makeup of the universe rushed by, showing a face Ty's brain flatly refused to comprehend. All too understandable, however, was the ugly silver spaceship heading toward them.
"Black Hats?"
"Black Hats," Grin confirmed.
"The Time Vortex doesn't have four dimensions of spacetime like we do at home, right?"
"Right."
"They shouldn't even be able to see us, much less try to stop us."
"Right."
Several weapon apertures on the ship glowed. The concussion sounded again, and Grin's display panels weren't pleasing him any.
"Perhaps if I hopped out and explained this to them..."
Grin appeared to be communing with the timeship. "Please, girl. Come on, girl. I'd rather not die just yet..." He did something that made Ty's stomach soar; but the next blast missed, and Ty figured that an upset stomach was better than none at all.
"Grin! Where's the gunner's station on this thing?"
"Nonexistent."
"What?"
"These - " he paused to send fingers flying over the panel again - "are built for research purposes. They don't need guns."
"Said J.T. Esteban to the Klingons."
"So sue me!" The pounding hit again, and lights started flashing on the consoles in an unpleasant pattern. "But do it fast..."
Two of the huge hexagonal tiles lining the walls burst, showering the two with debris. Ty half expected to see a camera crew behind them, but instead saw exotic circuitry, billowing smoke. Some of the console displays dimmed and went out.
Ty looked at Grin for guidance. Grin leaped on one set of controls - nothing happened. He flipped open a protective cover on a switch bank and slapped them all over. Nothing. He reached for a key panel, and it erupted in sparks before he could touch it.
The silver ship looped around for another pass.
Grin looked helplessly at Ty, and said one unprintable word. Ty looked at the ceiling, and let all the anger and frustration he'd felt funnel into a scream of "God DAMN it!!!"
Outside the 'Dark Matter'
"Leader," it gargled. "The overspace link to our attack ship in the Vortex draws increasing power from our cells. We will not be able to leave this planet until the TARDIS is destroyed and our forces return."
"Very well," the leader responded. He turned toward April. "You will enter the ship."
She did not respond, vision focused far away on something only she saw. The alien fired its weapon at the ground near her feet, generating a blast of heat and vapor as a half-meter crater appeared. She jerked from her reverie.
"Move!" it commanded. She moved.
They entered the ship, moving aft. The throbbing grew louder and louder, and April moved as if in a dream. All but the leader moved off to their tasks, as she was guided aft down the central corridor. They came to a T-intersection, and the alien moved to take the side passage; but April continued sleepwalking aft, drawn by something powerful she could not name. Angrily the leader grabbed her arm - and screamed.
The being's gray semi-humanoid lower arm and hand writhed and changed, bones reshaping and skin metamorphing. For a moment it was an insectile clawed limb, complete with exoskeleton; then the bones became narrow and delicate, membranes spreading between to form wing surfaces. Next it briefly took on the shape of a tanned human arm, now a furry paw. The Black Hat attempted to pull away, but even as it grasped her arm with the other limb for leverage, it too began to change.
"No!" it screamed garbledly. The changes spread to its torso and legs, and slowly invaded its head. "Too... many... exist- ences..." It dropped to the floor, dying, and changing even as it died. Finally, its grip came free, and April continued aft.
She entered the ship's power center. Before her hulked an unworldly machine, throbbing like a behemoth's heart as it drew power from the spaceship's batteries and fed it into unreality. April began to glow visibly as she moved closer, and the one Black Hat who tried to stop her instantly mutated into something unholy, having time only to shriek Others tried to fire their weapons at her, but the beams stopped short of her body. Trancelike, April took in the massive device before her, then laid her hands almost tenderly on its control panel. The throbbing slowed, becoming more and more sluggish as the aura around the machine increased. A detached, objective part of her mind recognized the light; it was the light she had seen through the open doors of the TARDIS, that fateful day the Gorig were defeated: the light of the very Time Vortex itself.
Around her, the ship and the aliens aboard began to age. Metal rusted, components failed, and fastenings loosened. Pure entropy ravaged the Black Hats' systems. Cells died, pollutants collected, and chromosomes duplicated themselves incorrectly; in less than a minute, the crew of the ship had all died of old age.
A sudden crack resounded. The light disappeared, and the machine collapsed into itself, vanishing without a trace. April's head came up, and her mind cleared; around her were engine systems and support equipment, looking untended for centuries. Misjointed skeletons littered the compartment. Her eyes grew wide, and she rushed from the ship, scattering old bones left and right.
Outside, the night sky held the same constellations. The same shabby building sat nearby that she'd left a few minutes ago.
"I don't know what this means," she sighed plaintively. "How old am I now? How is it I can do this? How many 'existences' do I have?" She threw her arms wide. "Just what is going on?"
The stars didn't answer her. Finally she sighed again, and went inside to collect the rifle. Returning outside, she leveled it on the decrepit ruin of the Black Hats' ship, and fired. A five-centimeter beam burrowed through the ship's hull. There was a muffled explosion, and the ship fell into dozens of burning automobile-sized chunks.
"That was setting three," she told the conflagration.
"I see you are as perilous as your reputation claims, my dear," a voice cried from across the lot. A solidly-built man skirted the wreckage to approach her, perfectly aware that the rifle had swung to point at him.
"And who are you?" April asked. "Before you try any bull, let me inform you that I've had a long night."
"I'm afraid it may get longer," he said. "We have a common problem, and I hope we can assist one another..."
The Time Vortex (the TARDIS)
Grin'elle gave Ty a look. "Our instruments just recorded an incredible surge in the structure of the Vortex." He raised an eyebrow. "I can only conclude that when you swear, you really mean it."
A side of Ty's mouth curled. "Yeah." The alarms and smoke filling the room stole the smile away, however. "I'll look that gift horse in the mouth later. Are we still going to make it?"
Grin shut off power to the dead areas and anywhere else in the timeship he could. The time column slowed perceptibly every moment, but it wasn't stopping. "I think so. Yes, I think so. The landing may not have a lot of style, however." He looked wryly at the console. "I just can't seem to arrive in this universe under my own power."
The TARDIS began to vibrate badly, and the two had to grab the console rail to stay upright. Grin looked at the console as if holding it together with sheer stubbornness. "We're almost there. Just a little further, girl..."
Redbar Towers apartment complex
Nebula watched until the last trace of silver had melted from the room, then turned to leave. That really was an awful noise for a high-tech spaceship to make. In fact, she thought it had faded away, but there it was again...
She spun around. "Professor?"
He lay half in, half out of the hatchway of his TARDIS. The 'monster maroons' had been replaced by a red-and-black jumpsuit with a silvery arrowhead at the breast and a row of tiny disks along the collar. He showed evidence of internal wounds, and smoke poured from the inside of the time machine.
"G-Grin'elle?"
"Hi - Nebula," he gasped between grunts of pain. "Got - a moment? I seem - to be - in some trouble..."
Another head poked out of the timeship. Ty Dujhar coughed loudly, observing, "Well; so this is Seattle."
Quite a while later, Grin'elle and Ty'elle stood solemnly in Nebula's apartment. Her living room was filled with dangerous, slightly disreputable figures in various seated, standing, and sprawled positions. Two of them Grin had met before; an Amerindian woman with almond Oriental eyes and delicately pointed ears, and a mirror-eyed man with a predator's bearing and a blindingly loud outfit. Lady Dragon and Skid were their working names.
An emaciated, sullen youth in filthy jeans and an ancient bomber jacket lay on Nebula's couch with his legs in the air, heels thumping against the wall as he regarded the ex-Fleet officers from upside-down. Next to him, but not too close, sat a silver-haired woman with the first lines of stress and care detailing her face. She wore custom-made jewelry around wrists and neck, and carried herself coolly.
"You asked for the best mages I knew," Nebula said. "These are top of the crop in Seattle. You know Lady and Skid; the boy's called Bombardier, and she's Amethyst."
"Hello, Professor." Skid cracked a rare, if thin, smile. "Need someone to pull you out of whatever you've landed in this time?"
"Right again. I need volunteers - well paid volunteers, I'll add - for a little journey, at the end of which there'll be some major spell working."
"Journey?" Lady 'D' asked. "Not another trip to the asteroids, I hope."
Grin looked uncomfortably at Ty, who looked back and shrugged. "No. Back to my own time. Back to fight one last battle."
Amethyst's eyebrows went up slightly. Bombardier looked incredulous. "What's this 'back to my time' business? Nebula?"
"He's a time traveler." Nebula waited out a calculated pause, then stated quietly, "No drek."
"I've seen his time machine, Bomber," Skid said quietly. "I've ridden in it, and he ain't kidding. He may not be sane, but he's not lying."
"On the subject of honesty," Grin continued, "I'll tell you this: the job won't be a picnic. I'll need the best. If you take the assignment, I've instructed Nebula to deposit a flat million nuyen to the account of each volunteer."
Bombardier suddenly quit adding heel marks to the wall. Skid's chin snapped up as the mirrors reflected Grin's intent expression, and Amethyst's eyes sparked slightly. "What exactly is the money for?" she asked coolly.
"I need a combination of sciences for this one, and you'll provide the magic. Our enemies have opened a hole in space and time, and the spaceship that stops humanity's extermination has fallen through it. I need you to reopen the hole, and send it back."
Ty shot a sharp gaze at his foster brother. "Grin, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Enterprise-C."
"It disappeared years ago, near the Narendra system, where that Klingon colony was destroyed! What does it have to do with the Black Hats?"
"They gated it away, to our present. Enterprise-D met it, and the Klingons got them both."
"And we're sending them back to save that colony? And prevent the war?" Lady said, trying to follow the argument.
"Not at all. It's true that we're sending them back to prevent the war. They'll do so by reappearing in the right place and the right time - and dying."
The room became extremely silent.
"When do we leave?" Amethyst asked.
"I'm not sure. Stay by your phones, and Nebula or I will get in touch with you. Be prepared to leave with an hour's notice." Amethyst nodded once, and got up to leave. Bombardier rolled off the couch and left with Skid, muttering furiously in the other mage's ear. Lady shook her head. "You're a lesson in thinking big, you are."
"My chosen arena demands it."
"Yeah. Well, Nebula, you know where I'll be." She left. Grin'elle dropped into a chair, exhaustion in his eyes.
"That's the great plan? Sacrifice a starship full of people to save a universe." Ty pointed accusingly at Grin. "Do you really have any idea what you're doing?"
"Barely. Just enough." He leaned forward in the chair. "Ty, they were supposed to die. Their deaths save millions of lives, Federation and Klingon!" He looked up. "Unless you and Jerry have been disabling Klingon cruisers with passive resistance?"
"You mentioned three sciences the last time we met," Nebula broke in. "Magic; technology; and - "
"Psionics. The three ways an intelligent being alters his environment to suit: intercession of higher powers, exploitation of physical laws, and the advanced ability to alter reality simply by altering one's perception of it."
"If they're the magic, than what's the technology?"
"Four subspace distortion generators powered by the energy of matter/antimatter annihilation."
"Enterprise-E's warp engines." Ty's expression got dreamy as formulae and theorems flashed though his head. "It could be possible - though the control necessary - " His eyes cleared, and he looked keenly at Grin. "The magic?"
"The magic. And, linking the two, psionics. Block transfer computations reweaving reality with the activity of a living mind."
"Who will carry that out? You?"
"Me and Kammara Kazsis."
Ty paused, then said slowly, "Grin'elle, Kammara's dead."
"I know. It's a bit of a problem."
Nebula broke in. "There's one other problem with your little trip, Grin. I can drag the money out of some corp's payroll, using that icebreaker you two wrote. But how are you going to take us to your future? I got a look at your TARDIS, and I'm afraid that more than just your friend has passed on."
Nebula and Ty looked expectantly at him, awaiting an answer. "Details, details," Grin mumbled. "I'm sure something will turn up." His confident expression might have been more convincing if he'd had more rest lately.
Grin did some power sleeping for the next few hours, while Ty and Nebula chased equations around on her mainframe. Nebula showed Ty'elle the 'Playroom,' the little virtual reality node she'd created where worlds could be defined and rewritten with a thought; in return, he gave her a crash course in the mathematics he used to twist 'real' space and time. They were deep in the net when a blinking Grin'elle came out of Nebula's room.
Grin smiled tolerantly at the two still figures, one jacked in and one wearing an induction circlet, before he opened an audio channel to their interface and growled, "FOOD!!"
Ty and Nebula jumped, and 'jacked out.' "Geez, dude," Ty'elle complained.
"Have a heart, brother," Grin said. "I haven't eaten since the twenty-fourth century."
"So, you're saying your last meal was three hundred years from now," Nebula commented sardonically.
"You see why no one time travels as a hobby," Ty smirked.
Grin stuck out his lower jaw in a mock growl. "FOOD!!" he repeated.
"Okay, okay," Nebula relented. "If I don't have to hear that again, I'll take you two to one of my favorite little spots. Do me good to stretch my legs anyway."
Grin smiled brightly. "Huh! If I ever see Kordon again, I'll have to tell him that it works."
The threesome took a table at a bar and grill within walking distance of the Redbar Towers, Nebula's apartment building. The interior of the place was spacious, well-lit, and clean, details which surprised Grin'elle in this particular city. The food was good, too.
"Yeah, every so often I come down to Philip's place to reassure myself that this world hasn't gone completely to hell," Nebula commented around mouthfuls of broiled fish.
Ty was still recovering from his first trip down the ugly streets of Seattle. "I can see why you'd want to. I think, living here, I develop a case of unending paranoia."
"Oh. A survival trait." She gave him a significant look. He raised his eyebrows, then dug back into his salad. "So, is your space opera future on of those nineteen-fifties 'brave new worlds,' then?" she continued. "Anything you want at the push of a button? No disease, poverty, or famine?"
"Almost," Grin'elle said sadly. "Not everyone wanted to accept the conditions: friendship, respect, and communication. Far be it from us to force these things on other people. And the Klingons can only respect a civilization which is willing to destroy them. That's why our friends are dying, back at home."
A dark, bushy-bearded man with a braided mane of hair came up to the table. "My greetings to you, April? How are you and your friends this evening?"
She smiled. "Hello, Philip. My friends and I were just praising your establishment. This is Ty Dujhar, and this is Grin Kriet. They're friends of mine from out of town."
Philip shook hands with the two men. Grin'elle looked dubious. "We've met, haven't we?"
A strange smile crossed Philip's face. "No, I think you'd remember if we had. It is, however, an interesting coincidence that you show up tonight with the young lady."
Grin gave him a quizzical look, and his smile grew wider. "There's a little man been in here the last few days, asking for you."
Grin tensed. "Did he leave a name?"
The smile grew wider. "No, but he chose to dine here tonight, and he should just be finishing." The restaurateur pointed over to a table in one corner of the room, and a scowl began forming on Grin's face.
At the table sat the man Philip was talking about, a short, round-faced man wearing a coat and a loud sweater. He was arguing genially with a bored-looking young woman in an emblem-covered bomber jacket, t-shirt, skirt, and tights.
"What is he doing here?" growled Grin under his breath. He stood up abruptly and marched over. Ty and Nebula shared a worried look and followed, as Philip left to help with the bar.
Grin'elle reached the other table and folded his arms. "I hear you wanted to see me," he told the man.
The other replied in a rolling Scottish accent. "Well, you're in a spot of bother, aren't you. Since it seems your traveling's attracted unwanted attention, I thought I'd be a good neighbor and see if I could help." He saw Kriet's friends standing just behind him. "You certainly keep handsomer company than you once did. Will you introduce me to your friends?"
"Ty'elle Dujhar; April Vincent; this is an old acquaintance of mine. I don't know his companion's name, but -"
The girl interrupted. "Hello. I'm Ace." She smiled at the three of them.
"Yes," Grin'elle acknowledged. "And he likes to be known as the Doctor."
"Happy to see me, aren't you? A fine welcome for someone who's come to save your skin. Or had you already worked up a scheme to get yourself back to the twenty-fourth century?" asked the Doctor, brow furrowed ironically.
"I was working on it..."
"Whatever our differences, young man, your universe has too much potential to be handed over to the Black Hats without a fight. Since your TARDIS has been rendered hors de combat, I thought you might appreciate assistance."
Kriet stared at him. "So you know about the Black Hats... I didn't think a single archive on Gallifrey mentioned them."
"They're much sneakier back home. After all, it's not backgammon I've been up to for the last nine hundred years."
"Professor?" Kriet glanced quickly at Ace, but she wasn't talking to him. "Is he one of your old chums or something?"
"A Time Lord? Yes."
"Not according to the rest of them," Kriet interjected.
The Doctor made an impatient gesture. "Technical trifles. Kriet just meddles in different space-time arenas than I." He pointed at Ace. "You humans need watching over, no matter which universe you're in."
"Oh. So, you mean there's someone else who gets in as much trouble as you do?"
"Yes," chorused Ty and Nebula. The time-travelers looked pained.
Nebula's living room now possessed a battered blue police telephone box as well as Kriet's silvery pillar. The two Time Lords buzzed back and forth between the two time machines for several hours, carrying parts and schematics from one to the other.
She tentatively stepped into Kriet's time machine. It was her first time inside, and like everyone else, she felt briefly startled by the interior size. Grin'elle poked his head out from underneath the central console. "Well, hello. What do you think?" he said with an expectant gleam in his eye.
"I just hope my lease isn't affected by the sudden addition of two zeppelin hangars worth of closet space."
He was taken aback. "Congratulations. You're one of the few people person in Gallifreyan history not to say it."
"Say what?"
"That it's bigger on the inside than on the outside."
"Oh. Well, if it hadn't been, then you and Ty would be better friends than you ever mentioned to me."
The Doctor marched in with Ty'elle in tow. "Here you go!" he said triumphantly, thrusting a fist-sized assembly at Kriet. "Negative Co-ordinate Compensator. Just the thing for that Multiverse Device of yours."
Grin'elle took it curiously. "This, instead of the Psuedo-parallel Mapping Network?"
"Ha! Stone knives and bearskins. It's no wonder they shot you down: this TARDIS is a worse patchwork than my last set of clothes."
"What about a Reduced-array Element Transformer?" Ty asked. "Wouldn't that have more throughput?"
The Doctor gave him a careful look. "I have great respect for your talent, sir; but if you build another Infinidrive, reality may just come apart at the seams."
Kriet had his head buried back in the guts of the console, but the muffled comment that came out sounded a lot like "Too late."
Ace came into the TARDIS, holding two large paper bags. "I got the sandwiches. Only had to put seven blokes in hospital on the way back."
Nebula looked at her watch. "Hmm, that would be the Red-light Rippers. A little early for them to be out."
"Do you like hanging around this universe, Kriet?" the Doctor asked distastefully.
"Well, there's a lot of our kind of work to be done around here." He stood up, dusting his hands. "Done. Thank you very much for the parts and the help. Nebula, would you call the magicians, and have them join us?"
She nodded, and headed out. The Doctor still didn't look happy. "This is still risky business, Kriet. Do you really know for sure what's going to happen at the end of all this?"
"I have some idea. I'm trying not to think about it."
"What's he talking about?" Ty asked.
"If your comrade's plan works," the Doctor explained, "and I confess that I can't currently see an alternative, you will be making a rather drastic change in your own histories. Do I really have to explain the Grandfather Paradox to a spatio-temporal engineer?"
The corners of Ty's mouth turned down. "We could wipe ourselves out."
Grin flipped a few switches, and nodded at the changes his readouts showed. "I'm hoping not. Besides, I've seen what's happening there now. I have no real desire to live in that future anyway."
The Doctor pulled his hat from a pocket and set it firmly on his head. "Well. You seem to be back in the game again; I wish you well."
"Thank you, Doctor," Grin'elle said reluctantly. "We may disagree about the details, but I suppose our methods aren't all that different after all."
The Doctor winked slowly at him, then left the TARDIS, bellowing, "Ace!!"
Ty was whispering to himself. Straining, Grin made out part of a song: "Control is not convinced / but the commander
"Has the evidence / no need to abort
"The count down starts..."
USS-Enterprise, NCC-1701-E
Kriet stepped out first, looking around alertly and grinning as he saw Jerry. "It's been a long time, comrade. You weren't very easy to find."
Ty exited behind him, explaining, "We eventually had to monitor Klingon tactical frequencies, and head ninety degrees away from where they thought you were."
"I'm glad to see you, Grin'elle," Jerry said. "Enterprise-E can use all the competent crew..." He trailed off. The other bridge crew members stopped even pretending to monitor their consoles. "Who the hell are they?"
He could be forgiven. On the high-tech bridge of a Starfleet battleship, the remainder of Kriet's party looked horribly out of place. The magicians looked around at the gleaming consoles and ever-changing displays, impressed in spite of themselves.
Kriet introduced Amethyst, Bombardier, Lady, and Skid. "They may have more mundane names," he commented wryly, "but they're not telling them to me. These four, my friends, are the key to winning the war against the Klingons. More precisely, causing it never to happen."
"How are they going to do that?" Miller asked, frowning. "Magic?"
"Precisely."
Jerry stared at Kriet as though trying to read minds by X-ray vision. Finally he took a deep breath, and turned to the communications station. "Call Valev and his tactical staff to Operations Planning; signal my staff too. I expect this is going to take a while to sort out."
USS-Enterprise, NCC-1701-E
Around this table, seated and standing, were some of the finest officers ever produced by the Federation. Jerry and Valev needed only to sit down to designate the head of the table. Grin and Ty sat with the shadowrunners nearby. Char'Al, Yanni Miller, and James Winding Creek were there; so, also, were David and Kristin Kazsis. Spyik Reid sat stonefaced at his console, seeming incomplete without Kraiggearra's balancing presence. Athene Graham scowled at her display, re-plotting a set of data points until the function's shape satisfied her. Montor Barrington leaned stiffly against a wall display; an absorbed Darrell Milner ran a finger across the map on another. The one thing that struck Grin'elle inescapably about this group, with few exceptions, was how old everyone was - everyone but him. He just felt incredibly old. Decrepit. Worn-out. With an effort, he shook it off and stood.
"I will begin by saying that though many of you here know me, most of you do not. To you, what I am about to propose will seem wild, farfetched, and utterly unlikely. You may take comfort in the fact that the ones who do know me well, will probably feel the same way."
The mood in the room lightened, faintly. Grin'elle reached down and hit a control; each of the four walls of the room blanked to display a complicated, annotated graph.
"Those of you who cannot understand this graph should not feel unintelligent. It deals with a complex function in space-time, a subject I am expert in, and it took me over half a century. This display was recovered from an alien group who used complex multi-dimensional technology to attempt the destruction of USS Pathfinder decades ago. It describes a bold attempt to change the history of our universe. A bold attempt - and a successful one."
Kriet pointed to portions of the graph. "Here, here, and here are attempts to destroy large portions of Starfleet. This time-space location shows many of our ships being destroyed by what Captain James T. Kirk referred to in his logs as a "Doomsday Machine." Note how the red and blue lines separate here, and the red line ends shortly. The alien opposition hardly expected us to knock out the device with the loss of only one ship.
"This location on the graph - notice the burst of red-lined possibilities radiating away - shows a war that was meant to start with a 'Starfleet' assassination of Klingon chancellor Gorkon."
"The Khitomer affair," breathed Char'Al.
Kriet nodded. "Exactly. Once again, though, the blue line that actually continues away shows that that incident was resolved in a manner far too peaceful for the puppet masters' tastes.
"These branches here, here and here, represent the specific destruction of ships of the Batron. Here, the Pathfinder at Wrigley's. Here, the Yeager during its builders' trials. Here, USS McKay during the USS Blue Ridge encounter. There are more to follow involving the entire Batron; the Zon nebula here, and the Megazone here." One side of his mouth curled up. "This particular branch, I say with some modesty, is devoted to my death and the prevention of Athene's birth. You'll note, though, how it recurves into Yeager's near-destruction by the Meltrandi. In fact, many of these branches link or were meant to. Only Providence assisted us on some."
"What is the sharp downcurve in the blue line, there where a red branch shoots up?" Miller asked.
"Wolf 359," Kriet said sourly. "Where the Borg had us for breakfast. Our antagonists loved that one. You'll notice that Starfleet strength was never the same; shortly thereafter, the Klingons made their biggest push ever, and took Earth. Perhaps if we hadn't lost so many ships..." He grimaced.
Montor folded his arms. "We all took our history courses at the Academy, Kriet. Where are you going with all this?"
Jerry leaped in. "The one red branching, about twenty years ago. The one that veers crazily off the blue path."
"Good guess," Kriet nodded. "That red line represents a disaster that never occurred. The destruction of NCC-1701 Enterprise-C."
"What are you talking about?" Montor asked. "Of course it was destroyed."
"Yes, but not twenty years ago. She was destroyed two years ago. December 2365."
A murmur arose in the room. Kriet raised his voice to counter it. "Our enemies have spent the last hundred years preparing for this, hoping that they wouldn't have to do it. It was their only remaining option, because it was way too obvious and risky. They opened a space-time wormhole large enough to fly a starship through. Enterprise-C did, and instead of being the martyrs of Narendra, died unknown, and unmourned, with Enterprise-D... twenty years later."
The murmur grew louder. "Quiet, please! Quiet!" Kriet shouted. "I know this is hard to accept, but we have Captain Picard's log recorder transcripts, as well as planning and organization materials from the enemy camp itself."
"So what are we going to do about it?" David Kazsis asked. "You're saying they've been planning this three times as long as I've been alive? Will our counterthrust take another century?"
"Not at all. You're right about us not having enough time to work against them. We're going to help them."
The room got suddenly quiet. "We're what?" asked Valev mildly.
"We're going to hold the wormhole open for just a few more hours - long enough for the crew of Enterprise-C to get back to Narendra, and die the heroes' death they were meant to."
"How?" Athene put a universe of bewilderment into that one syllable.
Kriet punched up a schematic on the holo viewer. "The space twisting forces will be provided by Enterprise-E's own warp engines."
Darrell Milner leaned in close to the diagram. "My friend, the way you've got this hooked up, it'll be a runaway reaction that'll only tear holes in this section of space-time; specifically, us! You feed a control program like that into our computers, they'll just giggle at you!"
"We won't be controlling it with physics, but psychics." Grin pointed at the four mages. "These men and women will actually be using magic to control and direct the warp."
Ty Dujhar spoke up to counter the amazed looks. "Yes, they are honest-to-God magicians; and no, I wouldn't believe it either if I hadn't seen it."
Darrell was not deflected. "Fine: you've got two pieces of the puzzle. You're still running a purposely imbalanced intermix to create an spatio-temporal wormhole at a distance. Where are you getting your intermix formulas from, The Great Bird of the Galaxy?"
An uneasy look crossed Kriet's face, and he opened his mouth hesitantly to reply; however, his answer was cut off by the whistle of the intercom.
"Captain Conner, sensors show an old-style Federation aerospace fighter, Intercept Valkyrie type, approaching. The pilot wishes permission to come aboard."
Jerry spoke to the air, while he and Kriet traded frowns. "We'll need identity confirmation, comm."
"Identity confirmed, sir. One pilot, one passenger. April Vincent... and Solomon Kirann."
"Who?" Valev turned to ask. He asked empty space, though, because Jerry, Grin, Ty, and Athene were already gone.
The Valkyrie carefully detached itself from the warp-drive Intercept package, glided through the atmosphere containment field, and landed with reasonable grace on Combat-2's hangar deck. Two people climbed from the cockpit, cracking helmet seals as soon as feet touched deckplates. Four Starfleet officers waited for them.
Nebula was the first to speak. "He showed up two days ago, saying that he had to meet you here and that he needed transportation. All I had was this ancient Valk."
Solomon Kirann stood smugly a step behind her. "You're going to be doing some complex block transfer computation soon. I happen to be particularly talented in that department."
Kriet found voice. "Kirann... I trust you about as far as I can comfortably spit a rat! You disabled the Pathfinder, sent four of our crew through a survival test from hell, and flounced off with the cryptic comment that you now knew what you had to do... and now you offer to do our computations for us? I practically believed you were a Black Hat for a while!"
Kirann shook his head. "Of course I don't blame you, Kriet, since you certainly didn't have access to the information I did."
"Who is this, Grin?" asked Jerry. "Another time-traveling marauder?"
"He's an ex-crew member of the Pathfinder. Something happened to him on Wrigley's, he endangered the ship, and disappeared."
"You don't understand. I gained certain information through the culture, and then had to borrow your crewmembers' psyches for an hour or two in order to keep it here." With a flair, he displayed a green, glowing canister.
"What's that?" Athene asked.
"I brought it here decades ago," Kriet said. "The last of it faded into impotence shortly after your rescue. It is the most powerful method of linking mind and machine ever invented."
Ty Dujhar's expression resembled what the faces of the atomic scientists at Trinity must have looked like, seeing the explosion of the first atomic bomb. "That would be this universe's last remaining supply of... Protoculture."
Kriet looked up at the ceiling. "All right! Enough's enough." His gaze returned to the half-Klingon ex-cadet who stood before him. "Look, I won't deny that I only have the vaguest idea what I'm doing, and that I'm lucky my friends are foolish enough to follow me on it. I don't, however, believe the coincidence that pulls you out from backstage just as the final act's beginning."
Kirann grinned. "Oh, come on, Kriet, you know better than that!" He motioned back toward the multimode fighter craft perched on the deck behind them. "You built these things, after all; you if anyone should realize the inherent power of the Flowers of Life! After all, it was you who convinced the Robotech Expeditionary Force that you should be allowed to research the potential of protoculture! No man-machine interface has come close!"
"We don't need it anymore. Our Switchblade mecha program -"
"Died in the water shortly after everyone stole the new Federation gunnery-prediction software. I do follow these things, you know." He sighed. "Maybe you just weren't meant to understand as I do." Kirann leaned slightly closer. "After all, you probably never expected some of the original Valkyries to still operate... without any power source at all."
Kriet jerked back, and Ty gave him a horrified look. "Grin? Is that true?"
Grin'elle slowly focused his gaze on Kirann, grabbed the front of the simple tunic he wore, and pulled him close. "Solomon, I don't like you. If I didn't believe this project to be so important, I'd walk you over to the hangar door, and toss you out. Whatever new abilities contact with the Protoculture has given you, you'd still get to swim home."
Kirann tried another smug smile, by it just wouldn't assemble under Kriet's stare. Finally, he just nodded. "I know. Our methods aren't the same, Kriet; but, this time at least, we share the same goal."
April broke the silence. "Captain Conner, we need to go to your Engineering center; there's a lot of work to do, and very little time to do it in. Too many people have extremely good reasons to nip this play in the bud." She looked at Kriet and Kirann furiously neutral expressions, then turned back to Jerry. "Whatever it is we're doing, we'd better do it fast."
Ty Dujhar may easily have been one of the Federation's top theoretical scientists - if not one of this reality's. Still, at the end of the next eight hours, he possessed a migraine the approximate size of Megazone 1-9... or, as he began to call it, Excedrin headache ¼x - (ˆ-2y) ...
Jerry walked into Combat-2's Main Engineering, watching confused staff mill around like rad-suited lemmings. Above his head, at the conduit links to Combat-1's engine room, a team of Exo-comps shuttled back and forth, running power cabling, datalines, and waveguides from one hull to the next.
One Exo-comp floated over to Kriet and chirped at him. He picked up a nearby padd and read the tiny robot's report on the screen. "Thanks, Nammo. See if you can tighten the tolerances down another hundred angstroms, okay?" It beeped at him and floated off.
The mage known as Lady 'D' hovered impatiently nearby. "Your grasp of theory's fine, Commander, but I think you'd have remembered from last time that we can't cast spells in deep space! I don't know where that other Nebula came from, but I can't guarantee that little trick you played before will wash a second time."
Bombardier nodded vigorously. "I don't really want to spew the contents of my gray matter into an astral vacuum. It wasn't in the job description."
"Look," Kriet temporized, "I don't blame you for being nervous. But you won't be having a problem here. You see, according to my research, magic is a function of spatial distortion. Any space-time event, and in fact all of them, can occur in singularities - in layman's terms, the physically impossible center regions of black holes. By extension, any mass large enough will have certain amendments to the laws of physics. On the planet-sized mass called Earth, they're called magic."
He paused for breath, then forged on. "The warpfield of this starship is enough of a singularity that when combined with the spatio-temporal distortion effect of the gravitons, tachyons, slow neutrinos, and other 'imaginary' particles produced by our imbalanced intermix formulas, your powers should function near-normally."
Skid twitched ever so slightly. "What?"
April paused on the way to deliver a stack of isolinear chips to the core control processor. "The engines will build a 'safe zone' around you after we reprogram them," she called as she swept by.
"Oh." Bombardier looked back at Kriet. "Why didn't you say so?"
Jerry jumped into the gap. "Grin, I need a progress report. We have indications of Klingon movement in this quadrant."
The time traveler grimaced. "We'll need a while longer, Jerry. Restructuring space like this isn't done for entertainment."
"Hmm. If we get in a fight, how much power will your setup draw?"
Ty popped his head out from a hatch at the foot of a bulkhead. "All of it."
Jerry's eyes widened. "All of it?"
"Yeah. Oh, and Grin, don't forget to ask him about moving some personnel around so we can kill life support on Deck Five." The head vanished back into the hatch.
He looked at Grin'elle. "All of it?"
Grin suddenly found the wall and ceiling construction fascinating. "Yeah, well, you know how it is..."
"All - of - it?"
Grin threw up his hands. "So sue me! I was lucky to find formulae for only two warp reactors' worth of power! Ten would have been better!"
Jerry finally got a grip on himself. "Okay. Tell me, once more, how this will work."
"Rube Goldberg might have done it better. Okay. The magicians - " he pointed to a table spread with arcane diagrams, crystal jewelry, and vials of powder and liquid - "will envision the changes they wish to make in the universe: the tiny changes in structure and stress that will hold the wormhole open just a little longer."
"From a distance, and two years ago."
"Right. They will cast their spells on the protoculture interface, in which Kirann has recreated the universe in miniature. It's an archived universe, if you will, composed of only the significant data: immediately significant to us, anyway. The computer side of the interface will translate this into block transfer equations which redefine reality."
"But those equations still need to be executed."
"Correct. That job will be done by our warp drives. Athene and April, working in tandem, will convert the block transfer equations to specific intermix formulae."
"Why can't the computer do that?"
"Block transfer computations refigure reality. The computer can display them for the ladies, but only a living mind can manipulate them without being corrupted by the very math it is performing."
"And then the dual intermix reactions form the exact warpfield necessary to change space-time - "
"And keep the wormhole open for a few more hours."
Jerry shook his head and sighed. "Fine. I guess I've got the easy part: I just have to tell a squadron of Klingon attack cruisers to zark off. So, when can we start?"
"All time is relative in this case. We can start as soon as the apparatus is in place."
"I want status reports every five minutes, Grin'elle. I'll do what I can from the bridge, but... Time is running out, my friend!"
"If there's anyone who understands that concept, Captain sir - it's me." As Jerry nodded and left, Kriet bent to work.
For the next two hours, Grin'elle's fingers flew from button to button on the main interface station, rearranging the entire engineering computer system one bit at a time. Swiftly but deftly he overrode safeguards, shifted processor functions from one virtual path to another, and revised command lists on the fly. With a flourish, he rattled out a final key sequence, and saved the whole configuration. Exhaling loudly, he looked up to see the rest of Engineering standing expectantly at their positions, seemingly waiting for him.
"Yes?" he asked, slightly embarrassed by the depth of his concentration.
"We're ready," Ty said. "Final checks complete. All we need is the go."
Kriet nodded once, firmly. With ceremony, he hit the intercom switch. "Bridge, this is Revision Group Alpha. We are ready to implement."
Jerry's voice drifted back over the channel. "Stand by, Alpha."
Kriet was startled. "Why the delay?"
The alert sirens screamed the answer, as Enterprise-E's shields took the first hit of the engagement. "Condition Alert! Condition Alert! Three Klingon Assault Cruisers taking attack positions! All hands to battle stations! Combat drill: Kappa!"
Grin slammed a fist into the console. Athene said, "No Klingon will ever be a comedian."
"Why?" Skid asked.
Ty flipped an obscene gesture at the ceiling. "Because their timing sucks!"
As Enterprise-E's shields subtly warped space, fooling attacking impacts into spending their destructive force any place the starship wasn't, Main Engineering rang with the sounds of offended deflector generators vibrating angrily. The lighting dimmed ever so faintly as the ship's combat systems made priority demands on power; civilians would never have noticed, but the Starfleet personnel had seen these conditions too many times to be fooled. Behind them, the intermix column boomed frantically, hurling basic opposing forces together and pouring the result into Enterprise's power network. Minute accelerations plucked at their bodies from all directions, as the gravitation and inertial systems fought drain and sharp vector changes. Ty could read it all like a book.
"We're getting pounded," he said with downcast amazement. "I think we've finally pissed them off."
The magicians stood unsure at their station. "What's going on?" Skid asked.
April's eyes were unfocused, as if she could see outside. "We're hurting them, but they'll shortly be doing worse to us. We're more than a match for any one of those ships... but as soon as the opposition gets its act together, they'll carve us up like a holiday meal."
The Klingon blood in Kirann's veins rose bubbling to the surface. "No!" ripped from his throat. "I have not spent a half-century preparing for this moment to have it torn away now!"
There was a very soft noise, which caught the attention of everyone in the echoing chamber: Amethyst had cleared her throat. The brilliant light in her eyes struck Grin'elle with surprise; he didn't remember seeing it before. "Commander Kriet. I have not seen very much of your beautiful starship, and I do not know anything of its construction... but does it, by chance, have any windows?"
One at a time, in slow stages, Lady, Skid, and Bombardier smiled. It wasn't a very pleasant smile; but then, neither was the one that Grin began to get...
"By forces old when man was young
We halt the scheme our foe's begun.
With secrets past and science now
We take the steps to seal this vow."
Amethyst explained that almost every spell needed clear line-of-sight to its target. Lenses were permitted, but no circuitry. The observation window gave her a fine view of the metal carrion-birds ripping at Enterprise's defenses.
"Though steel be hard, and cloaked in flame
Our lances enter just the same.
Their searing wands of ruby light
Will dominate no more this night."
Kirann stood nearby with the protoculture interface. The mathematically-simulated psuedospace inside reached eagerly to grasp the matrix defined by the mages' focused life forces.
"Our hearts are strong, our minds are one
Our wills will stand when this is done.
Though Klingon blood be honor bound
In hatred is no honor found."
In Engineering, April and Athene composed wildly, operating more on instinct than reason; and while one warp reactor continued to funnel plasma at overload levels into Enterprise's conduit arteries, the other saturated space itself with its fire.
"So let our wishes gain a hold
As space and time we try to fold.
Let adversary end his strife
And pay for murder with his life!"
The massive disruptor cannon in the nose of one Klingon ship began to glow; but at almost the same moment, the magicians' chant finished. Lights throughout Combat-2 dimmed or deactivated completely, then leaped back to full brightness. The brilliant glow of the cannon built up, then burst forth in an explosion which took the entire head of the bird with it. Every other light on the three Klingon ship went out. Shortly thereafter, a spread of photon torpedo already released by Combat-1's orders sailed passed what would have been Klingon shields. The results were brief but spectacular.
The intercom whistled. "Engineering, this is the captain." Jerry sounded very strange.
Kriet walked over and answered. "Engineering, Kriet here."
"Do you by any chance know why we haven't had power from Combat-2 for the last few minutes? We also noticed up here that three attack cruisers suddenly... broke."
"Yes, sir. The mages and I decided that my plan needed one last test." Kriet saw Skid lean tiredly into the room and give him the high sign. "Apparently, it's a real simple spell, but a bitch to aim properly."
The whole thing was almost finished. Whatever last play the Black Hats might have reserved, no time remained to call it. The mages' biggest, most audacious spell slowly wound to a close as Enterprise-C, under the last-stand protection of Enterprise-D, cruised back into the abnormally long-lived wormhole it had fallen out of. At her station, performing math that would heal the wounds of reality, April Vincent sang.
"Searchlights pin the angels to the wall
as the darkness closes in from every side
Evil is in the atmosphere tonight
And bringing nightmares to the ones who cannot hide
I don't believe hate is my only weapon
or believe I'm cursed to fight forevermore
I could give in to all my angers and fears
Winning a battle and losing a bigger war
Take your hands from your eyes!
See the light in the skies
And reenter the contest while announcing a few new rules
You can counter them with courage and they'll blow up - blow up!!
Never say give up, no never again!
Sail through the storm, because you know you can
Never say give up, no never again!
Head for tomorrow at warp factor ten
Always believe - love conquers all
Then you'll never need another weapon to win every fight
To attain your victory
Unblemished minds asleep in quiet dreaming
Shouldn't have to shield their hearts from ugly lies
Nobody knows, after this night of deception
What tomorrow's dawn will bring their trusting eyes
Love and respect are much more complicated
Than the hatreds we all hold inside our souls
Nothing can mend the emptiness in a life
When our anger tears our hearts out gaping holes
Just don't give up the fight
When you know you are right
Cowering in the corner won't impress our common foe
Shine the light upon their faces and they'll blow up - blow up!!
Never say give up, no never again!
Throw off your sadness, and smile through the pain
Never say give up, no never again!
Steady and cruising at warp factor ten
Never say give up, no never again!
Sail through the storm, because you know you can
Never say give up, no never again!
Head for tomorrow at warp factor ten
Always believe - love conquers all
Then you'll never need another weapon to win every fight
To attain your victory
"It's done," Kirann said. He tipped the protoculture canister with a finger, and it clanked emptily to the floor. He looked at Kriet. "Whatever you may believe, I hope you will one day forgive me. For years, much has been lost to me: sacrificed to my hopes of saving what I could of what remained."
Kriet met April's eyes. "I understand, Solomon. I understand very well."
Jerry and Valev had entered during April's song, standing quietly, watching and listening. "What happens now?" the Andorian asked.
"The new timeline will assert itself soon," Grin'elle answered.
"Some of us will be dead," Ty mused.
"Some of the dead will be alive," April added.
"This ship probably won't be built," Jerry guessed, looking at the walls.
"We really don't know," Kirann said.
"But it should be an improvement. Overall, at least," replied Athene.
Grin crossed to the magicians. "I confess, there's one last loose end." He drew the Mutor from his jacket.
"Ah-ha," April exclaimed. "I wondered what that was for; I didn't see you using it in the ceremony."
"I received it from a mage; it returns to mages. You four are the last foreign element in this reality," he said, handing it over. As Lady 'D' touched it, it flashed to a exquisite katana, still sheathed. "All of you grab it simultaneously, when you're ready. Treasure your memories of all this; even if we ever see each other again, you'll probably be the only ones to remember any of it."
Lady nodded. "Goodbye, Kriet. It was a good run."
Amethyst nodded coolly; Skid saluted with two fingers. "Sayonara, Professor!" grinned Bombardier. They all grasped the sword firmly.
USS Pathfinder
USS McKay
Megazone 1-9
August - September, 2050 A.D.
(Well, Jerry...?)
USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-D
Picard nodded. "Very well. Resume course."
Redbar Towers apartment complex
She spun around. "Professor?"
He stepped out of the hatchway of his TARDIS. The 'monster maroons' had been replaced by a red-and-black jumpsuit with a silvery arrowhead at the breast and a row of tiny disks along the collar. Kriet was in a good mood, and it showed.
"Hello, darling! I thought I'd come by and see you for a while; it's been years, after all."
"But... you just left."
"Your time, not mine; back home it's already 2293. Oh, I brought some friends of mine, too. I told 'em I'd show 'em somewhere different. Meet Ty Dujhar and T'Renn Vraomrell."
The other Starfleet officers stepped from the hatchway, looking around intently. Ty nodded in approval. "Well; so this is Seattle."
Much later, Grin and April lay entwined in one another, the others having been sent off to one of the cleaner hotels for the night. April grinned up at Kriet. "Ooooh, you're a dirty little boy. I'd be awful ashamed of you if it wasn't so much fun."
The door buzzer sounded, and she frowned. "Who the hell is that?"
Decently clothed, she pressed the intercom button, Grin'elle hovering behind. "Who is it?"
"I've got a package for Grin'elle Kriet. Is he here?"
She raised her eyebrows, peeked at the security camera display, and shrugged. "I don't know her."
"She knows my real name... you'd better open it."
A blond woman in street leathers stood there with a long, narrow box. "Here you are; express delivery, from the Lady Dragon. All charges and fees prepaid. And, by the way, Lieutenant Castille and I want to thank you again." She slipped away.
"Who was that?" April asked.
"I don't know." He opened the box. A silver rod with a sculpted end sat inside. April reached to take it.
"No, don't -" She jerked as though struck by lightning, and he grabbed it from her, only to stiffen as well. The Mutor clanged hollowly at it fell to the floor, nothing but an empty hunk of metal.
April's eyes were wide. "I - I - remember! I remember the Algorithm and Blues tour! I remember the Megazone! I remember Lazarus Long... Grin'elle, I never did any of those things!" She stared at the time traveler. "I'm in this room and on your starship at the same time! And on the UNS Skydiver and in my keep at Tela Krohm... How is this possible?"
"I remember Enterprise-E," Kriet muttered. "1701-D hasn't been destroyed; it hasn't been built yet. How can there be an E?" He looked slowly into April's eyes. "And I remember Llandhe t'Reilri and I rescuing the crew of a Federation Ambassador-class starship from a Romulan prison camp. Which there is absolutely no way I could have done, since her daughter grows up to command a Romulan Warbird-class cruiser in the 2360's."
April looked at the closed door. "Who was she?"
Confused memories chased each other around his brain. "Well, Starfleet couldn't just leave them there; but they'd learned about the future, and about my TARDIS in the rescue. We resettled them." He shook his head. "Didn't we? Of course we did." He still didn't look too sure.
"Grin, who the heck was that?"
Kriet didn't believe it himself. "Tasha Yar..."