CHAPTER 25

"Jean-Luc?"

Picard looked up and found himself standing alone in a courtroom. And not just any courtroom, but the twenty-first-century chamber in which Q had tried him seven years ago.

Of course, some things had changed. He was dressed in his "present-day" uniform. The gallery of leering, hungry-eyed gawkers was gone.

And though the captain had distinctly heard Q's voice, Q himself was nowhere to be seen.

"Up here," said the voice. This time, it sounded more than a little exasperated.

He looked up—and saw Q descending, as if from the ether, on his floating cushion. He was dressed in his flowing judge's robes again.

Q studied him. "The Continuum didn't think you had it in you, Jean-Lue. But I knew you could."

Picard felt his heart leap. "Are you saying it worked? Did we shut down the anomaly?"

Judge Q shook his head. "Is that all this meant to you? Just another spatial anomaly... just another day at the office?"

The captain took an angry step toward his nemesis. "Q," he rumbled, "did it work or didn't it?"

Q held his hands out, as if the answer had been in front of him all along. "You're here, aren't you? You're talking to me, aren't you? Albeit, I'll admit, without making much sense."

Picard considered the essence of the remark. He was here. He was talking. Then... could it be they had won? But.

"What about my crew?" he asked. "In fact, what about all three of my crews?"

Again, Q took on that expression of derision. "Is that all you can think about?" He spoke mockingly, imitating the captain's questions. "'The anomaly... my crew... my ship.' I suppose you're worried about your damned fish, too."

The entity snorted. "Well, if it puts your mind at ease, you've saved humanity once again. Congratulations are in order. Hip, hip, hooray." Slowly, scornfully, Q clapped his hands in feigned celebration. "But I must say," he continued, "I'm a little disappointed in you."

Picard chuckled dryly. "Oh, no… not that. Heaven forfend."

Q's expression hardened. "You really don't know what just happened, do you?" he asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "You're still the same primitive little man I met seven years ago. Same limited vision, same inflexible perceptions of the universe." He harrumphed. "I never should have been so generous."

"Generous?" echoed the captain, tilting his head to show his skepticism. "In what way?"

Q was clearly angry now. "That's right, Picard. Generous. It was my generosity that enabled you to travel through time. If I hadn't stepped in and given you that chance—the opportunity to see what should have been obvious to you all along—you and your pitiful race would be deceased. Extinct. Kaput. Finito. Just another dead end along the evolutionary-chain highway."

The captain had no reason to disbelieve him. Though Q often dealt in half-truths and exaggerations, baldfaced lies just weren't his style.

And if he had endowed Picard with the ability to time-skip... if it was his intervention that had given mankind a shot at survival... then the captain's duty was clear.

Putting his animosity aside, he smiled... looked Q in his baleful eyes... and said, "Thank you."

The Q entity looked back at him, uncharacteristically off-balance. "What... did you say?" he stammered.

"I won't tell you again," Picard replied. "But you're right—you did give me a chance. And I do appreciate it."

Q smiled back. "I will say this for you, Jean-Luc… you always have been full of surprises." He leaned forward on his floating cushion. "So surprise me again. Tell me you've taken something more away from this experience. Say you've expanded your horizons just the tiniest, little bit."

The captain looked at the entity askance. What knowledge had he taken away from this? And why was it so important to Q that he'd learned something?

After all, he had accomplished what he'd needed to accomplish. He had done what was necessary to preserve his own kind.

Unless…

Suddenly, Picard saw what it had all been about. And he wasn't happy—not in the least. In fact, he felt more humiliated than ever.

"I saw my way out of a paradox," the captain responded. "And in the process, I broke free of my preconceptions of time and space. That's what this was all about, wasn't it?" He grunted, amazed at the Continuum's audacity.

Q's eyes narrowed. "Now you're catching on, mon capitaine. For one split second, your mind was open to possibilities and ideas you'd never dreamt of. But it was only the beginning."

Picard wanted to be angry—but somehow, he couldn't be. As twisted as Q's methods were, his motives seemed almost... altruistic.

"You think of yourself as an explorer," Q expanded, warming to his subject. "And yet, how little you understand the universe you live in."

He gestured ever so slightly, and the captain's head was suddenly full of images and concepts he couldn't begin to comprehend. It was staggering. overwhelming.

Q went on, his voice a distant drone. "The real voyage of exploration has yet to begin, Jean-Luc... a voyage vastly unlike any other in your experience. And it has nothing to do with mapping star systems and charting nebulae. It's a voyage of perceptions... of thoughts. of moments and possibilities..."

Just as Picard thought he was beginning to see, the images vanished. It left him feeling empty... and terribly alone, like someone who has been cut off from the very thing that defined him.

'"Well," Q told him, "maybe you're not quite ready yet. But you seem to have demonstrated a certain aptitude for higher learning. Perhaps someday, you'll get the picture." He dusted off his judge's robes. "In any case, I'll be here watching... and waiting. And if you're very, very lucky, I'll drop by to say hello from time to time." Q was becoming translucent, immaterial. Already, the details of the courtroom were visible through him.

"Until we meet again, mon capitaine. In the meantime, you really should get some clothes on. You'll catch your death of cold."

 As the last of his adversary faded away, Picard reached out…

... and found himself stepping out of a turbolift, dressed in nothing but his bathrobe.

Worf and Deanna were standing there in the corridor, looking at him in surprise. It took the captain a moment to realize what had happened.

Q had deposited him back at the beginning of his adventure... if one could call it that. This was the point at which he had pleaded with the counselor for help, and then—

Yes. And then.

This time, however, it would be different. After all, he wasn't staggering around, claiming vague recollections of his initial experiences in the past and the future.

This time, his memories were clear and complete. He remembered all that had happened, from his meeting with Geordi in the vineyard at Labarre to his final assault on the anomaly in all three time periods. And Q himself had told him that his gambit had ultimately succeeded.

Because of that, events could not help but pursue a different course. Or could they?

A specter of doubt raised its head. What if Q had plunked him down at some other point in time... a point that only superficially resembled the beginning of his time trek?

What if there was something about his test that was still incomplete? What if, through some cruel turn of events, there was still some aspect of the puzzle left to be solved?

Deanna stared at him with concern in her lovely dark eyes. "Captain, are you all right?" His heart banging against his ribs, Picard turned to the Klingon. "Lieutenant... what's the date?"

Worf wasn't sure what was going on—but he answered anyway. "Stardate four-seven-nine-eight-eight."

 Stardate four-seven-nine-eight-eight. The exact same day and time on which his time-shifting escapade had begun.

The captain was overwhelmed with relief. He laughed out loud, not caring about the wary look that went back and forth between Deanna and Worf. For the moment, not caring about anything... except the fact that he was back where he belonged.

"Is something wrong, sir?" asked the counselor.

Picard shook his head. "Not at all. In fact, I think I'll go back to bed. I could really do with some sleep." And with that, he stepped back inside the turbolift compartment. As the doors closed, the last thing he saw was the querulous expressions on the faces of his officers.