CHAPTER 23

It felt good to be back in his clothes again, thought Picard. It was bad enough to be a little crazy. Looking the part only made matters that much worse.

As he stood on the bridge with Riker, Beverly, Data, Worf, and Geordi, he could almost imagine it was twenty-five years ago, and he was once again in his prime. Then, he had been the man on whom the fates of more than a thousand people depended. Now, he was lucky to have established some control over his own, meager existence.

"Entering the Devron system," announced the man at tactical. What was his name again?

"Thank you, Mr. Gaines," said Riker. "All stop."

That's right, Picard told himself. It was Gaines. He would do his best not to forget again—though he knew better than to make any promises in this time period.

Data, who had taken up a position next to La Forge at one of the aft consoles, looked up from his monitor.

"Sensors are picking up a small temporal anomaly off the port bow," he reported.

A... temporal anomaly? Then there was one in this time period. Picard felt that he was on the verge of being vindicated.

"On screen," ordered the admiral. His tone indicated that he wasn't quite ready to believe it.

But a moment later, the proof was handed to him on a latinum platter. Or, to be more accurate about it, on the viewscreen—where they could now make out a very small version of the anomaly.

Picard nodded. He had been right. But he didn't feel victorious—just vastly relieved.

"It's an anti-time eruption, all right," called Geordi, who'd scanned it. "It seems to have formed in the last six hours." He paused, calling for more information from the sensors. "And it's getting bigger."

"We can't let that happen," said Picard. "We've got to stop it here in the future... so it won't be able to travel back through time.... " Riker looked at him. He knew better now than to believe the captain was just raving.

He turned to the android. "All right, Data. We need a solution and we need it fast." The professor looked up from his monitor. As always, he seemed to have a response on the tip of his tongue.

"Since this anomaly has been formed by a convergence of tachyon pulses from three different time periods," he reasoned, "my first suggestion would be to shut down the pulses in the other two time periods."

A good idea, thought Picard. "The next time I'm there," he promised, "that's the first thing I'll do."

"But in case that doesn't work," the admiral added, "we're going to need a fallback solution."

Data nodded. "Understood, sir. I'm on it."

As the android went back to work, Beverly moved to Picard's side. "Jean-Luc," she said, "you look tired. Why don't you sit down?"

"Beverly," he rasped, "don't nursemaid me."

"It's not nursemaiding," she argued. "It's helping you to apply your resources more efficiently."

"Nursemaiding," Picard insisted volubly. Moving away from her…

... he saw that he was back at the aft consoles with Geordi and Data. Back in the present.

"Data," he snapped, seeing his opportunity.

"Disengage the tachyon pulse. Quickly."

The android looked up at him. "Sir?"

"Just do it," demanded the captain. "The convergence of tachyon pulses from the three time periods is what's causing the anomaly."

Data considered the implications at a speed even a computer might have envied. "Aye, sir," he responded, and got to work. "Tachyon pulse disengaged," he announced.

"Is there any change in the anomaly?" Picard asked…

... and found himself in his command chair, addressing the Data of the past—who was looking back over his shoulder from his position at ops. "No, sir," the android reported.

"Disengage the tachyon pulse," commanded the captain.

Data seemed about to ask a question, but refrained.

Turning to his console, he performed the necessary manipulations.

After a moment, Picard asked, "Is it disengaged?" The android swiveled again in his seat. "Aye, sir.

However, it appears not to have had any measurable effect." Picard frowned…

... and realized he was back in the future—though he was still sitting in the captain's chair. Immediately, he turned to his former comrades.

"I've shut off the tachyon pulses," he announced. "The ones in the other time periods."

This drew a few curious looks from the others, but no one called him crazy—or even suggested it. Apparently, they now accepted that he was traveling through time.

Picard fixed his gaze on Data. In the past, the android had informed him that their disengagement had had no effect—at least, none that was immediately apparent.

Perhaps in this time frame, it would be different: "What's happening with... with regard to the anomaly, Data?"

The android shook his head. "It is still growing larger," he reported with some reluctance.

"But Captain Picard has shut off the pulses," remarked Worf.

"True," said Data. "However, his actions do not seem to have created the desired effect." Picard cursed inwardly. He had been so certain that it would work.

"What do we do?" asked Beverly.

La Forge let out a sigh of exasperation. "The only way to stop this thing is to repair the rupture at its focal point... where time and anti-time are converging."

"And how do we do that?" inquired Riker.

"It would require taking the ship into the anomaly," replied the android. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if he were lecturing one of his classes instead of facing a threat to the very fabric of reality. "Once inside," he went on, "we may be able to use our engines to create a static warp shell." La Forge nodded. "Yes... and the shell would act like a new subspace barrier—separating time and anti-time."

"Exactly," said Data. "Collapsing the anomaly and ... restoring the normal flow of time." He turned to Picard. "But this would have to be done in the other two time periods, as well."

The captain considered the prospect. "That could be a problem," he decided. "The anomaly's so much larger in the other two time periods..."

"... it could be difficult to take the ship in." He'd already finished his sentence before he looked up and saw that he was in the past again. Everyone on the bridge was looking at him.

"Take the ship in where, sir?" asked O'Brien.

Picard took a moment to make his decision. "Into the anomaly, Chief. Lay in a course to the exact center." His officers were shocked.

"Captain," said Tasha, "you can't be serious. The energies in that thing could—"

The captain whirled. "I know that no one here understands this—but it is vital that we take the ship to the center of that phenomenon and create a static warp shell."

"A warp shell...?" Troi repeated. She didn't look confident that such a thing could even be done.

"The endeavor you describe would place the ship at great risk," Data pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily.

"Yes," Picard admitted freely. "That's true. But you must believe I am doing this for a greater purpose." He paused, wondering how to convey the importance of what he was asking of them. It wouldn't be easy.

"The stakes," he said, "are larger than any of you can imagine. The very existence of humanity depends on what we do here today."

The captain scanned their faces, one after the other. He had yet to sway them; he could see that. They were confused, uncertain of what to do next.

He knew that he had to make a connection with them—with each of them. But surely, if anyone could do that, he could.

After all, he had served with them already, in the not-so-distant future. He had come to know what motivated them, what made them defy the odds in situation after situation.

With that in mind, he now asked himself what sort of words were most likely to assuage their uncertainty. And, even more quickly than he might have hoped, the answer came to him.

He wouldn't try to win them over with abstract concepts of duty and survival. He would appeal to their pride in their abilities, to their sense of loyalty, to their hearts—and then he would hope for the best.

"You all have doubts about me," he acknowledged in stentorian tones. "About one another... about this ship. Unfortunately, I do not have the time to dispel them. All I can say is that, even though we've only been together for a short time, I know that you are the finest crew in the fleet."

At any rate, he had their attention. Each bridge officer was gazing at him intently now, weighing his or her assessment of him against the incredible and daring nature of his request.

"I would gladly trust any one of you with my life," the captain told them. "I would do so in any circumstance, at any place and time, without reservation." He looked into their eyes, hoping he'd accomplished what he needed to--but he couldn't be sure. "I can only hope," he entreated, "that you have that same trust in me… that you are able to make the leap of faith I am asking of you, regardless of the consequences." For a time, there was silence on the bridge. Glances were exchanged, consensuses reached. Then, almost as one, the entire bridge contingent started working at their various tasks.

That was their answer. Not a cheer of approval, not a roaring vote of confidence, but a simple demonstration of professionalism that spoke more loudly than voices ever could.

Picard was touched. He smiled with satisfaction. The team had come together at last, hadn't it? And not a moment too soon.