Part 13 (1/2)

A new s.h.i.+ver of uneasiness rippled through Guinan's body as the transporter on Picard's s.h.i.+p gripped her. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it felt different from the Alliance transporters she was accustomed to. More likely, she told herself, the difference was a result of her own nervousness, a compounding of the faint p.r.i.c.kling sensation that had been quietly a.s.saulting her since Commander Tal had agreed to allow her to be transported to the Enterprise.

Then the D'Zidran bridge vanished in a faint cascade of colored lights, replaced an imperceptible moment later by a room three times that size. Picard himself stood at what she a.s.sumed were the transporter controls. He looked up, smiling, albeit with a slight stiffness.

After no more than a couple of seconds, he stepped up onto the ma.s.sive transporter platform-there were at least six separate pads-and reached out to take her hand.

”Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Madam Guinan,” he said, his tone warm but wary.

”Just Guinan.” No one since Mr. Clemens had used that form of address.

”As you wish,” Picard said, releasing her hand as a door slid open, hissing softly. ”This way to the bridge.”

Following him through the door, she found herself in a broad corridor that curved gently out of sight in either direction. How big was this s.h.i.+p? The D'Zidran's sensors had undoubtedly provided that information, but she hadn't thought to ask Tal. Such statistics were normally of no interest to her, and the graceful image on the viewscreen had not hinted at great size.

Another door hissed into being in the opposite wall of the corridor, and Picard motioned her through it, into a small room. ”Bridge,” Picard said, apparently to the walls. But whatever or whomever he'd spoken to must have been listening. Moments later the door reopened, and the corridor outside had been replaced by the bridge. It was even more s.p.a.cious than it had appeared on the D'Zidran's viewscreen, large enough to swallow up a dozen bridges the size of the D'Zidran's. The first thing she saw was the huge viewscreen and the detailed image of the D'Zidran centered in it. The second was the pale humanoid seated at a control panel in front of the screen.

The same being that had accompanied Picard to nineteenth-century Earth in her dream!

A name sprang unbidden to her lips: ”Mr. Data- ”

The humanoid turned smoothly from the control panel before him and looked at her questioningly. ”Do you know me?”

For once in her long life, she was at a loss for words. A moment later, the tall, bearded man who had been watching the viewscreen intently turned toward her.

Riker!

The name flashed through her mind but went no further. Her eyes, however, must have betrayed her, she realized as she felt Picard's hand on her arm and heard his murmured, ”Perhaps you would like a moment to rest?”

Silently, she nodded. Despite her intentions to speak openly about the ”dream”- at least with Picard-she realized she hadn't been prepared for this. Not only Picard himself but virtually everyone else from that ”dream” was here. The artificial humanoid named Data. Riker. Troi. And there a few meters behind Riker, she saw now, was the dark-skinned man with the metallic blindfold-like device covering his eyes, apparently enabling him to see. The only person missing was the red-haired woman, the oddly named Dr. Crusher.

”This way,” Picard was saying, gently guiding her away from the others toward a door that was already hissing open in the smoothly curving back wall of the bridge. Expecting another conveyance like the small room she had just emerged from-an elevator, she a.s.sumed, a luxury she had never, in the Alliance, a.s.sociated with a stars.h.i.+p-she stepped through and was startled to find herself in a large, luxuriously furnished room with desk and couch and wall decorations and, of all things, an aquarium bathed in soothingly soft light.

”Make yourself comfortable,” Picard said, still standing in the open door, making no move to follow her inside. ”If you'd like a few minutes alone to- ”

”No, please, stay,” she said abruptly, her determination returning now that the situation was more nearly the way she had pictured it, just the two of them. ”We must speak.”

For just an instant he was motionless, then visibly relaxed as he stepped across the threshold and let the door hiss shut behind him.

”As you wish,” he said. ”And you're quite right. We really do need to speak, perhaps more urgently than either of us knows.”

Sixteen.

DURING THE series of wary exchanges between Kirk and Sarek, Scotty had realized that the situation was even more hopeless than he had imagined. First and foremost, this Sarek obviously wasn't going to release them, no matter what.

But even if he did...

Even if he did, there was nothing he and Kirk could do to repair the damage to the timeline. Finding approximately when the timelines seemed to diverge had been remarkably easy but it wasn't nearly enough. They still had no idea when the real divergence had taken place.

Obviously Picard had done something that brought the Borg from the distant Delta Quadrant to Earth in the twenty-first century, but the actual deed, the triggering event, could have taken place in the twentieth.

Or the nineteenth.

Or any time whatsoever. According to everything he'd learned about them, the Borg tended to act slowly and deliberately. It could have taken them centuries to decide to travel the thousands of pa.r.s.ecs to Earth.

Without knowing what Picard had done, there was no way of knowing when he had done it.

If he had done anything at all.

Perhaps the mere presence of a twenty-fourth-century Federation stars.h.i.+p in the twenty-first century or earlier had somehow attracted the attention of the Borg. Perhaps, centuries in the past, before the collective had grown so large and so inflexible, their attention was easier to gain. Perhaps they had captured the Enterprise, learned of Earth's location and come to investigate.

And decided to stay.

Picard's second jump could have taken him back a hundred years or a thousand. The Bounty 2-even if it did magically reappear-might be capable of another slingshot maneuver before it literally flew to pieces. With a great deal of luck and even more jury-rigged repairs, it might hold together for two or three-but no more. Hardly enough to search even the twenty-first century for the Enterprise, let alone the previous millennium.

But then, as Scotty listened, his mood growing darker by the minute, Sarek abruptly ended the conversation.

”We will finish this discussion later,” the Vulcan said without warning.

An instant later, the wall again went opaque and the faint hum they had heard before returned.

Recovering, Scotty grabbed the tricorder from his utility belt.

”A transporter,” he said as he pointed the tricorder at the wall and scanned the instrument's tiny screen. ”He's gone.”

”How far?” Kirk wanted to know.

”A dozen meters, no more, but now- ” He paused, shaking his head. ”The s.h.i.+elding around this 'cell' was down for a wee bit, again,” he said, ”but it went back up as soon as the transport was completed.”

”Makes sense,” Kirk said. ”Not helpful, but it does make sense. What can you tell about the s.h.i.+elding? Is there any way through it?”

Scotty studied the tricorder, frowning at first, then raising his eyebrows in surprise. ”Aye, there just might be.”

”What is it, Commander?” Sarek asked as he emerged onto the bridge.

”We have received a distress call,” Varkan said, gesturing at the viewscreen, where a less-than-clear image of ex-councilman Zarcot breathed heavily, the ma.s.sive cords in what pa.s.sed for a neck among Carda.s.sians standing out even more than normal.

”Sarek! At last! Tell this fool who I am!”

”He knows who you are, Zarcot. What is it you wish?”

”Transport me aboard the Wisdom! My own s.h.i.+p was destroyed, and this lifepod must have been damaged as well. The life support system is failing.”

”Explain.”

”There isn't time! Just lower your s.h.i.+elds and- ”

”There will have to be time, Zarcot.” Sarek looked toward Varkan. ”Commander, what do your sensors show?”