CHAPTER 22

Admiral Will Riker glanced over his shoulder at a table on the other end of Ten-Forward, where Geordi and Worf were sitting together. Then, he looked back to Beverly and Data, with whom he was sharing this table.

He had tried to make his glance as casual as possible. Unfortunately, Beverly knew him too well to believe it.

"Spying on the enemy?" she asked sarcastically.

Riker grunted. "In a manner of speaking."

"Will," said the doctor, "how long is this thing between you and Worf going to go on?"

He shrugged. "It's been going on for twenty years now. And it doesn't look like it's going to end any time soon."

"I suspect the last thing Counselor Troi would have wanted is for the two of you to be alienated from one another," Data remarked.

"I agree," Dr. Crusher put in. "It's time to put this behind you."

"I tried, at Deanna's funeral," Riker replied sadly. He recalled that tragic day. "He wouldn't talk to me."

"Might have been tough for him then," Geordi suggested. "He took her death pretty hard."

"Yeah?" Riker said, his voice sharper than he would have liked. "Well, he wasn't the only one." He saw Dr. Crusher's deep-set eyes lock straight onto his.

"I know," the doctor said, "but in his mind... you were the reason he and Deanna never got together."

"I didn't do anything to stand in their way," Riker answered, his natural defensiveness coming forward.

The doctor's bright eyes still held him. "Didn't you, Will?" she asked softly.

"Did I?" he answered, as if asking himself a question. "I just... never could admit it was over. I kept thinking one day we'd get together again... and then she was gone." Riker stopped, took a deep, sad, breath. "You think you've got all the time in the world, until..." His voice and his thoughts drifted off.

He recalled the last time he had seen Worf. It was on Betazed, at a place called Lake Cataria... where the sky was such a deep violet-blue it hurt one's eyes to look at it, and the breeze from the mountains carried the scent of something strangely like chocolate.

It was a perfect day—the kind that made one wish there would never be an end to it. The breeze was warm there, but not too warm. And the water of the lake sparkled like liquid gold in the burnished sunshine. They had all gathered by the sandy western shore— Riker and the Klingon, the captain and Beverly, Geordi and Data. It was where they would say their farewells to the woman who had been their friend and confidante ... their comrade and advisor.

Lwaxana, on whom age and sorrow and loss were at last taking their toll, had made her apologies through her giant of a servant. She would not come to the public ceremony. Unable to bear the sorrow of seeing them all again, she would do her mourning in private.

Betazoid custom called for a wooden funeral platform, on which the deceased could be viewed in a transparent case. In this instance, the platform was empty, since there was nothing left of the deceased to inter.

A friend of the family led them in the traditional funeral chants, much of which was snatched away by the wind. And when the time came to speak of her, he did so out loud, because they were offworlders and not telepaths.

Mostly, he spoke of Deanna's courage—and how, though the bounty of her heart brought great joy to those around her, it also made her vulnerable to those whose hearts were full of bitterness. In the end, he said, that vulnerability was her undoing.

Then he called upon the one who had been closest to her to plant the first seeds in the soil before the platform. Riker and Worf glared at each other across the patch of freshly turned earth. Riker saw in Worf's eyes the pain that was a reflection of his own. Then he gave way, letting Worf have the honor of planting the seeds.

He hoped that somehow this would help make things right between him and Worf, but he doubted it. Klingons were good at holding grudges.

With a start, he remembered he was in Ten-Forward.

"You can't go back," the doctor was saying. "But maybe you can still salvage the present."

Focusing his eyes, Riker looked at her. "Sure," he said. "And maybe latinurn will start growing on trees."

She leaned forward, undaunted. "Talk to him, Will. Let him know you regret what happened." A wistful smile crossed her face. "Deanna would've wanted it that way."

He knew in his heart that she was right. That was the way Deanna would've wanted it. But that didn't mean it was something he could do.

Dammit, thought Picard. Dammit to hell. When had they reconfigured all the corridors on this ship?

Of course, he knew that they hadn't done any such thing. But it certainly seemed as if they had. Though he had once known these streamlined hallways like those in his family's house, he now felt utterly lost.

Pausing at an intersection, he looked first one way and then the other. Which way to go? He wasn't at all sure. And the fact that he was drawing curious looks from passing crew members didn't make it any easier to figure things out.

Finally, Picard chose a direction and proceeded down the corridor. After a moment or two, it looked promising. And then, at long last, he saw the set of doors that he'd been looking for.

As he approached triumphantly, they opened and he prepared to confront Riker... but found himself staring into one of the transporter rooms instead of Ten-Forward. Swearing beneath his breath, he turned away and resumed his ever more frustrating search.

Continuing down the corridor, he decided that this time he was going in the right direction. But when he came to another intersection, he found himself flustered again. It was no use. Everything looked too much like everything else. How ridiculous, he thought... he couldn't find his way in a ship he had once commanded.

Finally, he stopped a passing ensign. "How do I. how do I get to Ten-Forward?" he asked.

The young man couldn't help but stare at Picard's garb. Still, he was helpful enough to point at the ceiling.

"Two decks up, sir. You want section zero-zero-five."

"Thank you," the captain told him. Pulling his nightclothes more closely about him, as if trying to gather up the last, remaining shreds of his dignity, he headed back in the direction of the nearest turbolift.

Sitting there in Ten-Forward, considering the rueful expression on Admiral Riker's face, Data couldn't help but reflect that there were areas of human nature he might never fully understand.

"Oh, my god," said Beverly.

It was her tone of voice, as much as the actual words, that caused Data to turn and follow her gesture. When he had done so, he clearly saw the reason for her exclamation.

Captain Picard had entered Ten-Forward in his nightclothes. It was a remarkably inappropriate act; even Data could see that. By comparison, the gray streak in his hair was a thing of great subtlety.

The captain moved directly to the table occupied by Worf and Admiral Riker. His eyes were wide with excitement.

"Will!" he cried. "I know what's happening... I know what causes the anomaly. We have to go back!" The admiral just stared at him, openmouthed. Before he knew it, Data found himself approaching the table. Geordi and Dr. Crusher were not far behind him, motivated by concern for their former leader.

By the time they got there, Riker was shaking his head in disbelief. "Listen, Jean-Luc. The only place you're going is back to bed."

The captain was frantic. He shook his fists at the air.

"Dammit, Will, I know what's going on. We're causing the anomaly... with a... with the tachyon pulse. It happened in all three... in all three... We did it in all three time periods!"

Dr. Crusher placed her hand on Picard's shoulder. "Jean-Luc, you'd better come with me."

But the captain jerked away from her. "Leave me alone!" he croaked. "I'm not crazy."

Data had his doubts about that. It seemed that Picard was farther gone than he had thought.

"The tachyon pulses," the older man ranted. "They were used in the same spot. The same location in all three time periods... don't you see?"

The doctor tried again to calm him down. "Jean-Luc... please..."

 But Picard persisted. "When the tachyon pulse used the... I mean, when the Pasteur used the tachyon pulse, we set the... you know, we... we started everything. We set it in motion."

The android felt badly for him. He knew what it was like to lose one's faculties. There had been several times during his stint on the Enterprise when he'd been partially or completely incapacitated.

However, those had been temporary conditions. He had never had to endure a slow and painful deterioration, as in the captain's case—or to face the certainty that, one day, he would lose his faculties entirely.

"It's like... the chicken and the egg!" rambled Picard. "You think it started back then... but it didn't. It started here, in the future. That's why... why it gets larger in the past..."

Larger in the past...?

The android tilted his head slightly as he considered that. How strange. Though it seemed to be merely a component of a sick man's ravings, there was a certain logic to the statement as well.

Was it possible that the captain knew what he was talking about after all7 Data thought for a moment— and only a moment. He was, after all, an artificial intelligence.

Admiral Riker hit his corem badge. "Riker to security. We have a problem in Ten-Forward. Send a team to—"

Data spoke up. "Just a moment, sir. I believe I understand what the captain is saying."

The admiral looked at him. "You do?"

"Yes. If I'm not mistaken, he is describing a paradox."

Picard held his trembling fists out to the android. "Yes! Yes, exactly!"

Data began to pace. He had become accustomed to doing his best thinking that way. And besides, it seemed like a very professorial thing to do.

"Let us assume for the moment," he said, "that the captain has indeed been traveling through time. Let us also assume he has initiated an inverse tachyon pulse at the same location in space in all three time periods."

"Go on," instructed Geordi. Obviously, he was intrigued, now that Data had gotten into the act.

"In that case," the android continued, "it is possible that the tachyon beams could've transited through the subspace barrier and caused an anti-time rupture. This rupture would manifest itself as a spatial anomaly."

"Right," said the former chief engineer. "I see where you're going. The anomaly is an eruption of anti-time ... and because it operates in the opposite way normal time does, the effects would run backward through the space-time continuum."

"Yes!" rasped Picard. "That's why the anomaly was larger in the past... than in the future. It was growing as it traveled backward through time."

The doctor shook her head. "Wait a minute. We didn't see any evidence of an anti-time reaction in the Devron system."

"Not yet!" insisted the captain. "Chicken and the egg! You see?"

"Indeed," agreed Data.

It was remarkable how all Picard's seeming fantasies were coming together. He wished that he had seen the solution earlier.

"In a true paradox," he explained, "effect sometimes precedes cause. Therefore, the anomaly the captain saw in the past existed before we came to the Devron system and initiated the tachyon pulse."

They all looked at one another. "All right," said Riker. "Let's say, for the moment, you're on the money. How do we prove any of this?"

"Go back," the captain advised. "Go back to the Devron system. It'll be there this time—I know it."

Data looked at the others. "He may be right. If our tachyon pulse contributed to a rupture in the fabric of anti-time, it may not have developed immediately. A return to the Devron system might show us the initial formation of the anomaly."

It was up to the admiral. Knowing that, everyone looked at him, waiting to see what he would do. After a long beat, he hit his comm badge.

"Riker to bridge. Set course for the Devron system. Maximum warp."

"Aye, sir," came the voice that Data now recognized as that of Lieutenant Gaines.

In the next moment, the admiral was on his feet, leading them to the exit. Everyone except Worf followed —causing Riker to stop and look back.

"Worf, we could use a hand," he said simply.

Worf considered for a moment, then followed.