by Nathan Faver and Edward H. Bart IV

Prologue
Gregorian Calendar Year 2379 Anno Domni

        Blue weapons fire from the Jem'Hadar and thick orange phaser fire from the Cardassians continued hammering away at one spot. Explosions erupted outwards violently, causing more damage to already weakened shields. Starbase 296 repeatedly fired photon torpedoes and angry red phasers in all directions, damaging the surrounding enemy battle cruisers and battleships. Jem'Hadar fighters were quickly evaporated with well placed barrages of phaser or torpedo fire. Only two Cardassian Galor class warships remained out of eleven. Several Jem'Hadar battleships also had survived the past day's worth of fighting. The starbase had defended itself ferociously against the small fleet of Dominion ships.
        The combatants battled on, unaware of a third party observing them. The Enterprise's viewscreen showed the carnage from their long range sensors. Picard looked upon the destruction with shock and surprise. He felt the rest of the bridge crew shared his sentiments. Gutted hulls of Cardassian ships and crippled Jem'Hadar battleships drifted listlessly. Some of them had been there since the last morning, the first casualties of the attack. Others were still showing signs of life through onboard fires and sparking circuitry. Data estimated the number of destroyed Dominion ships to near sixty.

        Another volley of weapons fire impacted onto the station in a tight localized area. The tell-tale blue shimmer of the station's shield flickered wildly in bright lights. More explosions erupted out onto the hull, indicating that time was running out for the acting captain, Ginger Stuvor. The cadet didn't expect to be thrust into command of Starbase 296 last morning, but he had been.
        The starbase's torpedoes and phasers continued to fire stubbornly in a 360 degree rotation, laying down damaging fire to anyone foolhardy to be within range of the starbase. The tattered remains of the Dominion fleet sent out their Jem'Hadar fighters on kamikaze runs against the starbase. The genetically bred Jem'Hadar soldiers followed their orders to perfection.
        The small beetle-like fighters rushed headlong toward the starbase, trying to dodge the heavy weapons fire. Most of them were hit hard, and true to their orders, the fighter ships continued on, only to crash into the shields in hopes of causing a shield collapse at the cost of their lives. Anyone could see the gambit was working.

        "Dropping out of warp!" Data shouted. From the tone of Data's voice, Picard guessed that his emotion chip was active. Picard couldn't blame the android. He felt anger bubbling up at the Dominion for their brazen attack against an innocent Federation starbase.
        "All ships, spread out and engage the enemy. Full impulse!" Captain Picard ordered. The ships under Picard's orders spread out, distancing themselves from each other. "Fire when you have a target lock," Picard ordered to his own crew.
        Lieutenant Nefaria didn't hesitate, moving her hands to manipulate the firing controls, setting them on standby. She paused briefly. "Captain, sensors are picking up a lot of small tachyon anomalies, sixty-three total, spreading out in the battlefield. They're moving towards sector 499.40 mark 32!" Nefaria said looking at the screen then at her sensor controls.
        "Confirmed. Most unusual, captain," Data said. "The anomalies pose no threat to us." He paused in mid sentence, reading his console. "Captain, the anomalies are decloaking."
        "Romulans?" Picard wondered aloud.
        "Negative, sir," Nefaria replied. "It's registering a Starfleet signature!"
        "On screen!" Picard ordered. The tactical officer complied, bringing it up on the viewscreen. Picard couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, until he noticed small distortions in space. "Magnify," the captain told the computer.
        The viewscreen zoomed into closer to the rippling distortions. They revealed the red flare of torpedoes, flying quickly towards a cluster of Dominion ships. Suddenly Picard realized that the Dominion fleet's defensive position would work against them. All of torpedoes rammed into the cluster of the Dominion's capital ships in a savage attack. One ship exploded in a huge ball of plasma and flames. A secondary explosion blossomed out, growing even larger than the initial explosions. The ships that had escaped the original assault were caught in the growing secondary explosions.
        The rescue fleet took advantage of this mass confusion to enter the fray. The Federation starships swooped in to rake the rest of the Dominion fleet with phaser fire and torpedo barrages. Finally, for the first time in two days, enemy fire let up on Starbase 296.
        "Captain, incoming transmission from Starbase 296. It's Cadet Stuvor," Commander Riker said.
        "Put him through," Picard ordered turning his chair to face the viewscreen. The image of Cadet Stuvor showed up on the viewscreen. All of Picard's questions about the condition of the starbase were dispelled upon seeing the background. Half of the lights were off. There was a smoky haze hanging low in the air. Flashes of light flickered somewhere, possibly a fire or an explosion, Picard guessed. As near as the captain could tell, Stuvor had to be in the Main Engineering room.
        Stuvor himself was in no better condition. His sleeves were rolled up. His face was covered in sweat and grime. Dark purple rings under his eyes showed the toll the battle took on him. Picard could notice a faint trace of dried blood on the side of Stuvor's face, probably from slamming into a bulkhead.
        "This is Captain Stuvor of Trashbin 296," the young man joked with a grin on his face. "Nice to see you again, Captain Picard."
        "What's your status?" Picard asked, impressed with the young man's ability to take command of a starbase.
        "Shields have dropped to twenty-four percent." An impact shook the cadet down to the floor. Stuvor picked himself up, leaning on the master station table. Explosions could be heard in the background. "I still have phasers and at least thirty-eight torpedoes in my bays, but I'm running out of auxiliary power to keep my shields up." Stuvor went quiet, staring at another location. "The Dominion fleet is moving against me again. Computer, launch another wave of modified torpedoes!"
        "Complying. Launching," the computer spoke.
        "Captain, another wave of torpedoes at section 306.50 mark 10 has just dropped cloak, impact in five seconds! Target vector is towards the Dominion battleships!" Lieutenant Nefaria said.
        "Cloaked torpedoes? That's a violation of the Treaty of Algeron!" Riker remarked to the young cadet. Weapons fire slammed into the Enterprise, and Riker held on, riding it out.
        "Read the treaty again, Commander Riker," Stuvor said. "It states that we aren't allowed to build cloaked vessels. Torpedoes aren't cloaked vessels technically. A loophole Starfleet has overlooked for a long time," he grinned. The station shook and he braced himself.
        An explosion rang out near him. Sparks erupted followed by shrapnel behind him. A piece of jagged metal embedded itself into Stuvor's right arm. He screamed and clenched his teeth.
        Picard grimaced slightly, as he watched Stuvor take hold of the metal fragment, jerking it out. Blood gushed out of his arm, and Stuvor quickly grabbed his discarded jacket, tying it around the wound. "God damn it!" he yelled with intense vitriol.
        "Shields down to thirteen percent," the computer said in the background.
        "Reroute auxiliary power from deck 13 to 15 directly to shield generators!" Stuvor ordered.

        The Enterprise saw a wing of Jem'Hadar fighters approach the station, and quickly moved to intercept them. A barrage of phaser fire from the station damaged two of the fighter ships, while the Enterprise took care of the rest. The Jem'Hadar retreated, their attack routed.
        "He's right, commander. Technically, his actions are legal to the letter of the treaty," Commander Data went to the young cadets defense. It took Picard a few seconds to realize what Data was talking about. He nodded slightly and turned his attention back to the cadet.
        "Well done, Stuvor," Picard said. A twinge of concern crept into the captain's features. He didn't want Stuvor to survive for so long only to lose his life now. The war was already taking out too many good young people.
        "The bad news is that I've run out of surprise torpedoes, Captain," Stuvor sighed. "I'm now down to twenty-four torpedoes on this junkheap." He pulled out a med-kit to stop the bleeding in his arm.
        "Warning, twenty-five Dominion vessels approaching at warp factor eight. ETA: eighteen minutes," the computer intoned.
        "Ah, hell, not again. Can't I ever get a break after two days!" Stuvor groaned, rolling his eyes.
        "Unable to comply."
        "Shut up," he muttered sighing to himself.
        "Sensors aren't picking up... Captain, sensors now just picked up another Dominion fleet. ETA: seventeen point six minutes," Data said.
        "Looks like your trash bin's sensors can pick them up a little faster than our sensors," Riker said with curiosity. The commander turned to Nefaria. "What's the battle situation?"
        "The Michigan and Velvet are destroyed. The R'grodulian, Greyhound, Br'lla and Tracker all have sustained massive damage. They are retreating for temporary repairs. The rest are still in battle-ready condition. Dominion forces are at minimal strength," Nefaria answered from looking at her screen.
        Picard sighed and nodded. "Mr. Data, contact--"
        "I've already contacted Earth, Captain," Stuvor broke in. "They're sending reinforcements as of this moment. ETA: Four hours. We'll just have to hold our ground. But once this station's shields are down, I'll be boarded or destro--." Stuvor broke away, a look of horror on his face.
        Picard looked over to the tactical display superimposed on the bridge's viewscreen. He saw what Stuvor saw. A crippled Jem'Hadar warship was on a collision course to the station. Two Federation ships, the Destiny and the Mjolnir were following behind it, hammering away with torpedoes and phaser fire in hopes of breaking the enemy craft up before it impacted into the station. The crippled warship withstood the weapons fire, and crashed into the starbase's shields. Amazingly, the shields didn't buckle. Although the shields withstood the impact, Stuvor fell to the deck from the intense quake.
        "We'll try to get their attention, draw fire away from you," Picard said. "Can you get to a shuttle?"
        "There aren't any left. But I have a escape pod ready with two months worth of rations and some extra power."
        "Shields down to ten percent," the computer said in the background.
        "Computer transfer all remaining power and life support except for main engineering room to shields!" Stuvor ordered.
        "Complying. All available power and life support transferred. Shields up to sixty-sixty percent."
        "Let's hope it would be enough to last until the cavalry arrives, Captain." Stuvor looked seriously at Picard. "Sir, if I ever have to activate this starbase's final measure, give this message I'm transferring to your ship to my family."
        "You have my word, Captain," Picard solemnly nodded. He wavered slightly as the Enterprise took several hits. However, the captain maintained his balance, standing steadfastly. He glanced back at the young man. "One thing, on our approach to your starbase, we detected minimal power output, yet your shields and weapons are consuming much power. How is this possible?" Picard asked, bracing himself for another quake from phaser hits.
        "Shields down to sixty-three percent," Nefaria announced as Picard rocked.
        "Specially modified cloaking technology. It masks energy output. It's a little something Starfleet was tinkering on here. Part of why they're attacking us. Can't say more. Rest assured that I won't let the prototype fall into Dominion hands," Stuvor said. He grabbed hold of a console as sparks erupted behind him. "Let's hope I survive this ruckus. I need to get back to making repairs. Stuvor out."
        Picard nodded, and Stuvor's connection ended. Picard sat back in his chair, and tapped his armrest console. "All ships, protect the station. Form a blockade while Acting Captain Stuvor attends to some repairs."

        Stuvor drew a deep breath as he kneeled before a open access hatchway, which revealed an EPS conduit. Parts of the EPS was charred black, indicating burnt out nodes. Stuvor immediately ran through several options for replacement energy sources in his mind. He dismissed transferring power from shields and phasers. Those were the only things between him and oblivion.
        He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers legs, and reached for a spanner. Using the spanner, Stuvor quickly bypassed several circuit pathways. Soon that particular EPS conduit was humming with energy. He replaced the cover panel, and saw his reflection in the burnished grey metal.
        He was covered in sweat and grime. His hair was ruffled up and his cadet's uniform was in a shambles. Dried blood, his and others', stained his uniform in several spots. He took a tentative sniff, and realized he stank. Hardly surprising since he hadn't been able to take a shower during the on and off fighting with the Dominion.
        With a groan, Stuvor got up and walked over to the master control panel to look for what needed to be repaired next. Soon, the young man repaired several EPS conduits, and restored more power to shields and weapons. Stuvor went back to the master station table, and checked his time. Twenty minutes for ten EPS repairs. That had to be some kind of record, he thought to himself. Too bad he was the only witness.
        A soft bleeping drew Stuvor's attention to the sensors. Some Jem'Hadar fighters had gotten through the blockade Picard had set up.
        "Computer, shields up to maximum and target Dominion vessels with phasers only," he ordered. He glanced at the tactical subscreen that showed the torpedo supply. He made a note of the dwindling supply of modified torpedoes.
        "Shields up to ninety-six percent strength. Targets locked and ready," the computer responded.
        "Fire!" he ordered, as he went over to the comm station. Quickly pressing a few buttons, he opened a channel to the nearby Enterprise.
        "Channel open," the computer responded.
        "This is Acting Captain Stuvor to Captain Picard. Respond please."

        On board the Enterprise, Captain Picard looked at the battle situation. Things were going well in favor of the Federation ships. Picard's mouth still tightened in a firm frown. The Dominion ships remaining still attacked stubbornly, in spite of the uneven odds. He wished Starfleet Command gave him a reason why this starbase was under fire. But the only one who could give him an answer was the acting captain of the starbase.
        Odd, Picard mused to himself. It had become easy to think of the young cadet as an acting captain. Picard himself had once been an acting captain, years ago, on the U.S.S. Stargazer. But he had been a lieutenant then. Stuvor had not even graduated from the Academy yet.
        "Captain, incoming message from Acting Captain Stuvor," the Angosian tactical officer said.
        "Put him through," Picard ordered, as a minor shudder ran through the deck beneath his feet; a reminder that there was a battle going on outside. The viewscreen showed young Stuvor, running his hands over various consoles, keeping the starbase intact. "Captain, what's the station's status?"
        "I've managed to boost shield strength back up to ninety-three percent. All phasers are at battle strength as well."
        "That was fast," Commander La Forge remarked, from his post on the bridge's engineering station.
        "I improvise well, commander," Stuvor grinned. "Your ships don't need to bear the brunt of the assault anymore. I see the Destiny's shields are dropping to dangerous levels. "
        Picard turned to Nefaria, his glance asking the question. "He is correct," Nefaria answered.
        "Very well. Order the Destiny to draw back. Allow only the strike fighters through. Our ships will handle the larger ships. But I'm not about to let Stuvor take on all of the ships. Keep an eye on that sector."
        "Fleet command sent," Nefaria replied. "The Destiny acknowledges and is moving out of position."
        Picard watched the tactical map on the bridge viewscreen. The small crafts were moving through the gap. He had to trust that the starbase could defend itself.
        Stuvor pressed the fire controls, sending out a webwork of red phaser energy at Jem'Hadar and Cardassian fighter ships as they fired upon the starbase. Stuvor leaned onto the controls, riding out the shudders. They weren't as bad as before, when the shields were weaker.
        The Jem'Hadar crafts were struck hard and fast by the starbase's phasers since they were at the forefront of the assault. A few were destroyed outright, and the others were heavily damaged. Stuvor fired phasers again, at the Cardassian strike ships at the rear. Since their technology wasn't as advanced as the Dominion, they took more damage. More ships were destroyed, making the Cardassian threat non existential.
        As the starbase defended itself, the Enterprise joined the Mjolnir in firing upon a large Jem'Hadar battleship. The combined firepower of a Sovereign class ship and an Akira class ship was too much for the Jem'Hadar starship. Their shields collapsed and gouts of fire spilled out of the dark purple hull of the ship. The Enterprise moved onto another threat, leaving the Mjolnir behind to finish the job.
        A few moments later, the Federation cavalry arrived. A detachment from the Ninth Fleet dropped out of warp, and flew into the fray. The fighting was quick and fierce. When the dust settled a few moments later, all of the Jem'Hadar craft were either destroyed or crippled. The Cardassian ships had elected to retreat, limping into warp.

        "Yeah!" Stuvor grinned watching as the enemy ships retreated. Finally, he could let himself relax. He fired phasers at the stragglers, as the new arrivals took up defensive positions around the starbase.
        "Warning, a Dominion fleet has been detected. ETA: twenty-eight minutes and thirty seconds." Stuvor's celebratory smile faded as irritation replaced his good feelings. He heaved a exasperated sigh. He consoled himself that now there were more ships around the starbase. He reached to contact the Enterprise when the comm system beeped.
        Stuvor answered the beep. The comm screen showed a split view of Captain Picard and another man, a captain of another starship.
        Picard spoke first. "Acting Captain Stuvor, this is Captain Villers of the Nautilus."
        Stuvor gave a slight nod to Captain Villers. "Hello. Glad you guys decided to show up, and just in time. I'm sure you know that Dominion reinforcements are arriving within the half hour."
        Villers nodded. "We're aware of that. However. we won't be staying. I was sent to retrieve the Seventh Fleet and bring them with me back to the main contingent of the Ninth Fleet. We're en route to the Kyatao system to engage the enemy bases there. I also have orders for Commander Pettigrew."
        "He's dead," Stuvor said, of the starbase's commander.
        "I'm aware of that. Since you're the Acting Captain, I'm authorized to give the message to you. Starfleet Command orders you to remain at your post and hold off Dominion forces as long as you can. HQ is sending some reinforcements to replace the Seventh Fleet."
        "When will they arrive?" Stuvor asked.
        "I don't know. The message goes on. In the event that there is no hope of victory, you are to abandon base and activate the final measure."
        Stuvor sighed, frowning at this unexpected turn of events. "But why did Starfleet assign the Seventh Fleet to assist my starbase?"
        "Priorities have changed," Villers said. "A Engineering Research facility has dropped in importance."
        "I see," Stuvor nodded. "Only one thing- I'm the only remaining crewman. The final measures require secondary authorization."
        "Starfleet Command has prepared for that eventuality. I have a sealed code packet, only to be opened upon activation of final measures. Transmitting it to your computer now."
        Stuvor looked over at Picard, a pleading look on his face. The older captain's features softened. "I'm sorry. We all have our orders. I am sure reinforcements will arrive in a timely fashion."
        Stuvor nodded. "I understand. Remember my final message I transmitted to your ship earlier."
        "I remember. It will be delivered, but I am confident it won't need to be." He smiled, putting on a brave front for the young cadet's benefit.
        Stuvor smiled weakly. Captain Villers cleared his throat. "Captain. We must be going."
        "Yes," Picard nodded. He looked at Stuvor. "You've been doing a very commendable job. I know you will be receiving a medal for it, and I plan to attend the ceremony." He smiled.
        "Thank you, sir." Both captains disappeared off Stuvor's comm screen. He watched as the Enterprise and the Seventh Fleet leave position around the starbase, with the Ninth Fleet detachment. They warped out, leaving Stuvor behind. He sighed and slammed his fist angrily onto the master control table.
        "No use feeling sorry for myself," Stuvor said aloud to himself. "We've got the enemy coming. Computer, ETA for the Dominion reinforcements?"
        "Twenty-one minutes thirty-five seconds at their current speed."
        "Well, we better prepare a good welcome for them, huh?" Stuvor nodded.
        "Command not understood. Please restate."
        Stuvor rolled his eyes and sighed. "Disregard." He headed to the station that ran the tactical systems. Geez, when you come right down to it, a computer's no fun to talk with, he thought to himself. Wish Starfleet would come up with a more sociable computer.

        The Dominion fleet dropped out of warp to attack the starbase. Before they had a chance to react, torpedoes flew out at them, exploding. Phasers lashed out at the Jem'Hadar and Cardassian ships. In the midst of the weapons fire, an innocent probe was launched away from the station.
        Stuvor made sure the probe wasn't destroyed. Part of the procedure for using the final measure was to have a probe recording the events. Earlier, as Stuvor monitored the arrival of the Dominion fleet, he realized that there was no chance that the starbase would hold off the attackers until the Federation reinforcements arrived.
        So he had prepared a weapons fire pattern for maximum confusion and maximum damage. At the moment, he was running down the corridor towards the escape pod. "Computer, activate Final Measure, set to five minutes. Voice authorization: Stuvor, Ginger P., acting captain."
        "Voice authorization identified. Secondary authorization required."
        "Open Authorization Code Packet," Stuvor said, referring to the file Captain Villers gave him.
        "File open. Secondary authorization confirmed. Final Measure powering up. Activation in five minutes....five minutes and fifty-nine seconds..."
        Stuvor picked up his pace, hurrying to make it into the waiting escape pod. By the time he strapped himself in, the countdown was down to three minutes.
        Stuvor ran his nimble fingers over the limited flight controls. The door shut and sealed. "Eject!" he shouted. The pod shook as it launched away from the starbase. He looked through the small porthole, watching the battle rage before him. He smiled slightly at the fact that the Dominion was fighting an empty starbase. The pod shook as a stray torpedo exploded nearby.
        "Whoo, that was close," he muttered. He connected to the station's computer to hear the countdown.
        "One minute and twenty-one seconds..."
        "Activate full thrusters, heading- the nearest 'M' class planet."
        The pod's small computer acknowledged and performed Stuvor's command. The escape pod flew right under a Jem'Hadar Battleship. The fire pattern Stuvor had programmed into the starbase cleared a narrow corridor in which his escape pod could travel through. Stuvor watched the sensor screen in front of him as he made his way from the station. The count down neared zero.
        Suddenly, Stuvor's whole world was turned upside down. It took him a second to realize the pod was hit by weapons fire. He quickly assessed the damage. His thrusters were gone. He was dead in space.
        He checked his distance to the station. He was still too close. The countdown hit zero. "NO!" Stuvor shouted as bright light spilled into the porthole.
        Starbase 296's hull glowed with bright blue and white light as strange energy arced across and around the base. Then an implosion occurred; the station began folding into itself, which sent out a strong shockwave. The Dominion fleet had never seen a such thing happen, and didn't move quickly enough to avoid damage.

        The Seventh Fleet and the Ninth Fleet moved past the destroyed Dominion outposts, heading further into the Kyatao system. So far, the surprise attack was proceeding well. But other matters weighed heavily on Picard's mind. He sighed as he sat in his command chair.
        "Lieutenant Nefaria, report on the status of Starbase 296," he asked.
        "Checking...hmm. I'm reading a large subspace spatial distortion field around the starbase. It is also sending out an automated distress signal."
        "I am reading the same thing on my station," Data said from his seat at OPS.
        "Elaborate?" Picard said.
        "Insufficient information for a hypothesis," Data said. He paused, looking at his station's consoles. "The subspace readings have ceased abruptly. So has the distress signal. I would venture that Starbase 296 has either been destroyed or captured."
        Picard sighed sadly. He made a mental note to deliver the message Stuvor gave them. And to request assignment to the search party for his escape pod. Or for his remains.

1854 A.D.

        The hot grassy plains shimmered in the setting sun, as a large herd of buffalo grazed. They ate contentedly in isolation, save for one lone figure on a small bluff overlooking the plains.
        The distant figure wore only a light loincloth, and a belt fashioned out of the white fur of a wolf. A quiver of arrows hung loosely from his back. He gripped the bow lightly, as he gazed at the buffalo. He reached back for an arrow from his quiver.
        A flash high in the orange sky made him look up. He saw a bright yellow streak appear in the sky, as if the finger of the Great Spirit had been dipped into pigment and spread across the clouds.
        Almost immediately after he saw the streak, a loud burst of sound rained down upon him.
        He looked back at the buffalo, which were scattering at the loud boom. He sighed and looked up at the sky. The streak continued growing, blazing a path towards the horizon. It met the horizon in a bright flash.
        The buffalo now had moved on. The hunter made his way down the rocky bluff towards his waiting horse.
        He mounted the horse, and set off towards the horizon, where the mysterious yellow streak had ended.
        
Chapter One

2384 A.D.

        Admiral Picard stood still, flanked by several other admirals and commodores. They stood before the holographic wall before them, outside in front of the main building of Starfleet Command. The wall looked like a giant slab of black marble, with white letters carved in the stone. Those were names of cadets killed or missing in action during the Dominion War. The holo wall had been created exactly ten years ago, to the day.
        That's why the high ranking officers were gathered, standing before the wall. For the anniversary of the wall's creation. All of them had a personal connection to at least one name on the wall. Picard was there because he had known one particular cadet whose name was on the wall. He waited as the wall's surface rippled; another set of carved names appeared. Soon, the wall changed again, and Picard read the name. Cadet Ginger P. Stuvor.
        Admiral Nechayev, the newly installed Commander-in-Chief was winding up her speech, and Picard tuned back into the speech.
        "In conclusion, this memorial wall should be very important to us all. These are the names of the young we sent out into battle. The young who had not even begun to live. But they did it for us all. For Starfleet. For the Federation. We should always remember. Thank you."
        She stepped down from the podium to applause from the assembly of selected officers and Academy faculty attending the memorial. The end of Nechayev's speech marked the end of the formal memorial. The audience standing in the center of the plaza scattered. Some remained to continue looking at the holographic wall. Others had classes and other duties to attend to.
        Some of the admirals near Picard walked up to talk to Nechayev. Picard looked around at the people near him. The man standing to his left seemed familiar, but Picard couldn't place the name. He was a dark haired man with a black beard. The blackness was peppered with grey and white. Over his left eye was a elaborate triangular tattoo. He was staring intently at the wall, as if he was trying to commit each name to memory. Finally Picard remembered his name.
        "Excuse me. Aren't you Chakotay? Formerly of the U.S.S. Voyager?" Picard asked.
        The man turned around, noticing Picard's presence. "Yes, that's me."
        Picard held out his hand to shake Chakotay's hand. "Hello, I'm-"
        "Admiral Picard, yes, I know. I've heard a lot about you. Pleased to meet you," Chakotay said as they shook hands.
        "Pleased to meet you too as well, Captain," Picard said. "Is this your first time attending the Cadet's Memorial Service?"
        "Yes. All of the faculty at Starfleet Academy are required to attend, and since I just got my posting here nine months ago, it's my first time."
        "It's a sobering sight, isn't it?" Picard murmured.
        "Yes, very much so," Chakotay nodded. "I had no idea how terrible the casualties were while I was in the Delta Quadrant. In fact, I'm a little ashamed of myself. When the Voyager first got news of the war, my initial thoughts were with my Maquis comrades. I was so upset they were all wiped out. I didn't think about the ensigns and cadets of Starfleet until much later."
        Chakotay looked up at the wall. "So many lives gone," he sighed. He glanced over at the tall obelisk, which housed a large analog clock. "I'm sorry, but I need to go. One of my classes is starting in a few minutes."
        "No problem," Picard nodded. "It was nice to meet you."
        "You too as well, sir. Good day." Chakotay made his way across the grass towards a group of buildings.
        Picard looked around and spied a colleague. He went over to the man.
        "Commodore Vekmon, good to see you again," Picard smiled, patting the other man on his shoulder.
        "Ah, Jean-Luc. It has been a while, has it not?" Vekmon smiled.
        "Yes. Quite a few years. I believe it was when we toured the excavation of B'Hala on Bajor, wasn't it?"
        "My, that was a long time ago. Over ten years, wouldn't you say?" Vekmon looked at Picard.
        "Yes, almost ten years. So, Robert, how are you today?"
        "I am fine, and you?" Vekmon asked.
        "I'm fine as well. It was a good memorial service this year, wasn't it?"
        "Yes it was," Vekmon nodded. He looked up at the wall. "So what names do you honor today?"
        "Many names," Picard sighed. "There's one. Susan Richards. Another, Toby Ryland. Ginger Stuvor."
        "Stuvor? I knew him well. I used to be his History professor," Vekmon said. "It's a terrible fate for him."
        "Hmm?" Picard looked up.
        "MIA. Body never found. Presumed dead, but you never fully get closure."
        "Yes. I understand. The Enterprise was one of the ships that searched for his escape pod."
        "Yes. Most likely lost in subspace forever. A tragic end to a promising career. He had such a brilliant mind. Fortunately, some small consolation can be derived from the fact that they discovered the subspace shunt didn't work, losing only an abandoned starbase, not with a populated one. That would have been a much worse tragedy."
        Picard nodded in agreement. Still, he didn't feel much better because one life was lost, Stuvor's life. Picard smiled, changing the subject. "Robert, it's been too long. Let keep in better touch."
        "Agreed, Jean-Luc. We shall have lunch one of these days, and catch up on these past years."
        "A marvelous idea. I see you have a wedding ring now. That's news to me," Picard said, glancing at Vekmon's hand.
        "Ah yes. I would have invited you but it all happened pretty quickly. I shall introduce you to her."
        "Unfortunately, we can't do that today; I have to catch a shuttle back to the Enterprise."
        "Of course, I understand. Duty calls," Vekmon nodded. Picard grasped the commodore's hand for one final handshake. The two men parted ways, and Picard headed for the main shuttle pad.

        Vekmon deactivated the classroom holoscreen as the last of his students filed out of the classroom. The last class of the day was always the best to Vekmon. He suspected he liked it as much as the students did. Not that he didn't enjoy teaching; he loved educating the cadets. It was just that some days, he also liked free time on his own. Today was one of those days to him, especially after the somber memorial service in the morning.
        Vekmon gathered up his PADDs and put them in his satchel, and slung it over his shoulder. He made his way out the rear entrance of the classroom, cutting through the museum that the History Department building housed. Vekmon found it amusing that the shortest path from his classroom to his office took him through the Ancient Western exhibit, since that era was his favorite.
        He entered his office, then set his satchel down on the seat near the door. He sat down wearily in his chair, behind his desk. He checked the number of e-messages that accumulated on his comm channel. He looked at the PADDs scattered across his desk- various papers to grade and projects to review.
        Vekmon sighed, running a hand through his bristly white hair. He looked up at the old mirror that hung on the wall near him. He looked as old as he felt today. His stern face was tired looking and drawn. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. On days like these, he invariably reviewed his life.
        He played with the gold ring he wore, and smiled. His wife, his beautiful wife...what a find she was. Zan was all he wanted in a woman. Bright, eager, and active, just like he was. She was also a temporal physicist, which was nice, considering his field of study and previous job. He remembered the day he proposed. It was horrible. She said no right away. His heart was torn. However, the next day, she came back to him and said yes.
        That was odd, he thought in hindsight. She was always single minded. She rarely changed her mind. Still, he wasn't going to object. They had been married for only six months, but it was wonderful. He loved going home to her. However, he couldn't do that tonight. She was gone on business. She wouldn't tell him what it was, but he didn't mind. He'd be glad when she came home.
        Vekmon still felt depressed. He sighed, and stood up, stretching. He decided to go out into the museum.        He never tired of looking over the objects put on display on his daily trek to and from his office. Some of these objects had been uncovered by him on some of his expeditions in the Nevada area.
        Vekmon paused to stand before a freestanding pedestal, which housed an array of ancient letters that had been donated to the museum from Galaxy Union, which had its beginnings in the ancient business named Western Union.
        The letters were written on paper made out of wood pulp, which had been replaced by electronic messages and other materials, centuries ago. These letters were finely preserved. Most of them were readable, and afforded the reader a quaint glimpse in the events of history. One letter was from a soldier to his girlfriend, written during the United States' Civil War. Another was a business letter about the fantastic new invention called the telegraph.
        Reading those letters never failed to bring a smile to Vekmon's face. A letter caught Vekmon's eye. He leaned in close to the clear partition to read the bottom most letter. It was covered up by the other letters, so only the top right corner was visible. The letter writer had scribbled doodles in that space.
        Vekmon found it odd that he never noticed it before. Perhaps he was just in an introspective mood that allowed him to notice it. He looked at the scribbles. Surprise crept up his spine. His already bristly hair, bristled more as goosebumps spread on his skin.
        Those weren't random scribbles at all. They were Utankki letters.
        Only a few people knew how to read the ancient Utankki language. Vekmon was one of them, since he had been the discoverer of the Utankki culture in the Utos system.
        The Utankki had been a pre-warp culture that died out a millennia ago, and their homeworld was thousand of light-years away from Earth. So how could someone write Utankki in the ancient west? Vekmon had to investigate further.
        He headed over to one of the computer stations that regulated the museum exhibits. "Computer deactivate forcefield around Exhibit 201." His voice was accepted since he was one of the honorary curators of the museum.
        The invisible forcefield flared into visibility, then faded away. Vekmon went over to the pedestal, and carefully lifted the clear box off. He set it gingerly onto the floor, and gently lifted the letters off so he could retrieve the mysterious letter.
        Now he could read the Utankki writing. "Robert," it said, "I've written an invisible message. Citric acid. GPS."
        Vekmon's brow furrowed in confusion. He took the letter into his office, and picked up his tricorder, and scanned the paper, looking for citric acid. The tricorder revealed a second letter written on the paper, also in Utankki.
        Vekmon read it silently to himself.

"May 18, 1854

        'Dear Robert,

        How are you doing, commodore? It's Ginger. I hope the war is coming along okay, perhaps even over. Anyway, by the time you read this, I'll probably be long dead, a pile of dry bones somewhere in the Nevada desert. I'm glad you noticed the message on the corner of the letter. I had to break into the local Western Union office to find this letter, and write over it. How did you like my use of the old fashioned lemon juice invisible ink? I had to use Utankki, because no one but you, me, and a few others know it. That way, the Temporal Investigation Agency keeps off my back.
        Oh, I'm sorry. Let me explain what happened to me. I'll try to explain as best as I can. I was in an escape pod, trying to make my way through the Dominion fleet before the Final Measure was activated. I got hit by weapons fire, and lost momentum. I was just on the edge of safe space, when the station opened the subspace rift. I'm not sure what happened next but I think a Jem'Hadar ship exploded as it got sucked into the rift. I blacked out soon after that, and woke up in my escape pod, in the middle of nowhere. You'd have to consult with the engineers who designed the Final Measure to find out exactly what happened.
        Imagine my surprise when I saw that I was on Earth, only in the wrong time period! I calculated by the constellation positions that I had ended up in the 1800's. Later on I learned it was 1854 to be exact. You know, this should have happened to you, not to me. I know how much you wanted to live among the settlers and Native Americans, to observe and study them in person. I still can't believe the Department of Temporal Investigations wouldn't let one of their best agents do that."

        Vekmon smiled at that. He remembered the day that Stuvor had deduced that Vekmon once had been a Temporal Investigator. "I'm afraid I cannot confirm or deny that," Vekmon had told his student.
        Stuvor smiled knowingly at his superior. Vekmon went on to ask Stuvor, "May I ask what prompted that statement?"
        "Well last night I had been reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories on this detective, Sherlock Holmes. He fascinated me, especially his deductive reasoning. So I decided to apply that to the people I knew. When I thought about you, it suddenly became clear to me."
        "Oh? What so called clues led you to that idea?" Vekmon asked, curious.
        "Well for one thing, you always have an accurate knowledge of time. You're never late and never early. In your lectures, I've noticed that you've never once had to refer to your notes for dates and times. You seem to speak about certain events and times with a passion that comes only from experience, not analytical knowledge."
        "I see." Vekmon nodded at the end of Stuvor's analysis. "I cannot confirm or deny that," he said. However, it took him several months before he decided to confirm Stuvor's hypothesis. Vekmon indeed had once been a Temporal Investigator. He worked under the guise of an archaeologist. But a falling out with his superiors led to him retiring from the agency. That retirement required the erasure of certain memories in his mind, such as locations of the Department of Temporal Investigation's headquarters and time travel device locations.
        Stuvor asked what that falling out was about. Vekmon explained that at heart, he was an anthropologist. He wanted to set up secret observatories across time periods to study ancient races, like Starfleet did with primitive cultures on other planets.
        The Department of Temporal Investigations committee had denied his request, stating that such things were too dangerous to attempt. Too much could go wrong. A Temporal Investigator could inadvertently erase entire periods of history. Worse could happen if a Temporal Investigator intended to do that very thing. No, the Department of Temporal Investigations committee had said. They would maintain their policy of time travel only when absolutely necessary. Perhaps sometime in the far future, they might travel more often, but not now.
        Stuvor had been fascinated with the engineering problem of creating a time travel device. He went up to Vekmon and asked for assistance. Vekmon, while he couldn't remember the specifics of temporal machinery, still knew about temporal physics. So Vekmon taught Stuvor all he knew, and worked with Stuvor on building theoretical temporal devices.
        Vekmon was so impressed with Stuvor's skills that he suggested that Stuvor apply to the Department of Temporal Investigations. "No thanks. While time travel fascinates me, what I really love is engineering," Stuvor replied.
        Vekmon sighed at his recollections. He resumed reading the letter.

        "Anyway, I hope you won't tell them where I am, because I know my just being here is a violation of time/space laws. I've tried to take care not to interfere in any major events. I've kept pretty much to myself, isolating myself from others. I've scrapped all of the technology on my escape pod so no one can use it. That was so painful to do. But on the other hand, I've enjoyed the challenge of using 19th Century technology.
        Besides, I feel fated to be here. I don't want to interfere with my destiny, so I haven't attempted to come back. And I don't want you to try and get me using our theoretical devices. You'd just get in trouble with the Department of Temporal Investigations and we're not even sure if they will work in reality.
        I've been living comfortably here for about three months. Unfortunately, I've been acquiring an odd reputation. The town fix-it, so to say. I've tried to minimize that, but still word gets out after all. Some people have tried to recruit me into their gangs, but I've always politely declined their invitations. Most of them accept it, but one or two didn't, so I was forced to defend myself. Now my reputation has grown more because of that.
        Well... as far as I know, I hope history will be good to us, both future and past. I have to run. It's high noon here and someone has challenged me to see who's the fastest gunslinger in Dodge City. So much for staying out of trouble. I probably will just move to Carson City soon. Well, it's not even named yet. You know, the Comstock Lode will be found in a couple of years. Plenty of silver for me to tinker with.
        Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, my friend and mentor, that I survived and am perfectly fine. You're one of the few friends I ever had, and treated me well, and with respect. That's why I took the risk of writing this letter.
        As the Vulcans say, Live long and prosper.

Cadet Ginger P. Stuvor"

        Vekmon glanced at the ancient parchment in his hands, dumbfounded with this newfound information.

        Picard shook Captain North's hand as they said their good-byes. "Thank you for taking me to meet up with the Enterprise," Picard told the other man.
        North smiled. "It's no problem at all, Admiral. The Argo was heading for the Oonan system anyway. And it's not everyday we get such a distinguished guest."
        Picard chuckled. North glanced at the transporter chief. The chief told them, "Ready to energize."
        Picard vanished from the Argo's transporter room and reappeared aboard his own ship, the Enterprise. Captain Data was there, awaiting his return.
        "Welcome back, sir," Data said as Picard stepped down off the transporter platform. "I trust the service went well?"
        Picard nodded. "Yes. Next year, you should come with me. Every officer should go at least once. Before Riker transferred to the Hood, we attended the first one."
        Data merely nodded, his pale eyes on Picard. "And how was the rest of your shore leave?"
        "It was fine. But it's good to be home," Picard said to his first officer. "So, status report," Picard asked.
        "All systems nominal. The final repairs from the situation in the Atreides system have been completed. The Enterprise is operating at maximum efficiency."
        "That's good to hear. Be sure to give Geordi and the engineering crew my congratulations for a job well done."
        "I shall do that, sir," Data replied as they made their way to the bridge. "On our way to the rendezvous point, we detected a subspace distress signal. I've given orders to the helm to lay in a course at maximum warp once you were aboard."
        "I see. Where's the source of the distress signal?" Picard asked.
        "Veridian III," Data replied as they entered the turbolift.

        Picard took his seat in the center of the bridge, as Data sat in the first officer's seat. The viewscreen showed the Argo warping away, continuing on their way. Picard breathed in the atmosphere of the bridge. He always felt that he was missing something while he was off his ship. Now he was back home.
        He would have preferred to arrive without a mystery being placed into his lap. "Do we have confirmation that the subspace beacon is originating on Veridian III?" Picard asked.
        Lieutenant Darcy nodded. "Yes, sir," she replied from her post at OPS. "There is some minor interference from a class 4 nebula, but the signal is coming from there." Picard nodded. He checked the ship's course. They were already on their way to the system. Data had anticipated his curiosity well.
        "Veridian system?" Picard asked himself quietly. That system held uncomfortable memories for him. It had been above the planet where the Enterprise-D had sustained fatal damage, and the saucer section had to crash land onto the planet.
        The planet was also the site of Kirk's death, before he had been resurrected by Borg technology. That had been more than ten years ago. The only things of value on that planet were a simple memorial to Kirk and the Enterprise-D.
        "ETA to Veridian III?" Picard asked the helm.
        "Nineteen hours and twenty-six minutes, sir."
        Picard sighed. That was a long time to wonder about the signal. He looked over at Data. "I'd like a ship-wide status report. Have all department heads report to me in my ready room. It seems my vacation is over."
        "Aye, sir," Data nodded. Picard stood up and headed to his ready room, to immerse himself in work.
        
        After entering the bridge of the U.S.S. Defiant, Captain Worf strode over to his command chair. This chair had been his chair for the past seven years, when he was given sole command of the warship. A proud day in his memory, he recalled.
        "Captain, we are being hailed," Ensign Howers said from his post at tactical. "It's Captain Johnson, sir."
        "Put him through," Worf ordered spinning his chair around to face the viewscreen. The image of Captain Johnson shimmered into view. Out of the many humans Worf had known, the captain had one of the most the most military bearing. His dark brown bristle-cut hair and firm penetrating brown eyes bespoke leadership. "Captain, it is good to see you again," Worf said.
        "Likewise, captain. How goes your trip? Smooth sailing?"
        "No interference if that's what you mean, sir. We have the supplies and crew on board and ready to beam them over to you once we dock at Starbase 74."
        "Of course," Johnson replied. "I apologize for turning you into a cargo freighter."
        Worf looked at his helmsman, Lieutenant Rodenberg. "ETA to Starbase 74?"
        Rodenberg checked his console and announced, "Less than one minute. Dropping out of warp, sir."
        The stars on the viewscreen shimmered as they went from warp to impulse speed. The squat starbase with its outspread platform style docking areas spun slowly into view, a virtual twin to Starbase 375, which Worf was intimately familiar with. Almost immediately, one thing caught the view of the entire bridge crew.
        "Oh my god," Rodenberg said as he looked upon in surprise and interest. They were looking at one of the largest Starfleet ships ever made yet. The U.S.S. Courageous hung lazily near the starbase. Its three warp nacelles glowed with muted energy. Worf took in every centimeter of the starship. The basic Galaxy class ship design raised faint memories and feelings of his former assignment aboard the Enterprise-D.
        "Helm, one quarter impulse. Initiate docking maneuvers. Contact the Courageous once docking is completed."
        "Aye, sir."
        In a few moments, the Defiant was docked at Starbase 74.
        "Helm, all stop," Worf ordered.
        "The Courageous reports ready for supply transport," Howers said.
        "Begin transport," Worf replied. I'll be in Transporter Room One. Commander Yulin, you have the bridge."
        "Aye, sir," Yulin replied. He sat down in the command chair that Worf had just vacated.


Chapter Two
Revenge Revealed

        "Admiral's log, stardate 64233.6. We are en route to Veridian III where the U.S.S. Enterprise-D's remains are, to respond to a distress call. We aren't able to get a response from the sender, nor any identification. The signal itself is a general purpose distress signal, in use by most Federation worlds.
        "There is no Dominion activity anywhere near the Veridian system, so I'm not worried about that. Starfleet has also been apprised of our situation, and approve of the investigation. If we encounter Dominion activity or any other threats, Starfleet will be able to send assistance.
        "The mystery grows as we are nearing Veridian III. Captain Data has detected subspace anomalies on the surface. My initial reaction was that this was some aftereffect of the Nexus Ribbon, but he has assured me that isn't the case. The energy readings don't correspond. Still, I am going to proceed with caution. End log entry."
        Picard stood up and stretched before the window in his ready room. He definitely was starting to feel his age. His time with the Ba'ku had added years to his life, and kept him from having to take a desk job. He was glad that upon promotion to Admiral, he was still able to retain command of the Enterprise.
        But time marches on. Picard wondered what he would do when the time came for him to give up starship command. He drew in a deep breath and smiled at his reflection off the transparency. "That won't happen anytime soon," he told himself. "I still have some time."
        The stars shrunk down from long streaks to small pinpoints, and Picard knew they had arrived to the Veridian system. Giving one final shrug of his shoulders, Picard adjusted his admiral's uniform and walked out onto the bridge.
        "Report," Picard said as Data looked at the admiral.
        "Entering the Veridian system. Nine minutes until orbit over Veridian III," Data quickly replied.
        "Any new information on the signal or the situation?"
        "Negative, sir. The signal is still continuing..." Data looked at his computer panel.
        "Sir, the signal has just stopped," Lieutenant Darcy said. She read over her console at OPS.
        Lieutenant Commander Nefaria nodded. "It just stopped as we entered sensor range. Recommend yellow alert."
        "Agreed," Picard said. "Keep alert." The alert panels on the bridge started flashing yellow, and the computer announced the yellow alert status.
        The Enterprise approached the green planet.

        Picard, Nefaria and Darcy materialized onto the rocky terrain of Veridian III. Their sensor scans indicated the signal was being sent from the same site that the insane Soran had used as his launch pad. Data had wanted to beam down in Picard's place but Picard had pointed out that scans showed no lifeforms. So there was no danger, only mystery. Data reluctantly allowed Picard to go.
        The admiral tapped his combadge. "Away Team to Enterprise. We've arrived safely. Preliminary inspection show nothing out of sorts. I'm going to take the Away Team up the mountain to investigate further."
        "Enterprise to Away Team. Message acknowledged," Data's voice replied. We'll maintain a constant transporter lock on you."
        Picard nodded. It was only prudent. "Acknowledged. Away Team out."
        He looked around in the bright day. A blustery mountain wind was blowing, ruffling Darcy's red hair around. Nefaria, being an Angosian, had her hair braided tightly in the custom of her people. Darcy paused to clip her hair tighter. Picard rubbed his bald scalp, wishing for such problems.
        Picard went on up ahead, peering upwards. In the distance, he could see the broken gangplank where Kirk and Dr. Tolian Soran had fought. Picard put his phaser in his holster, and raised a tricorder. "This way," he said.
        After some climbing, the trio made it up to the launch pad area. Darcy found the signal beacon. Nefaria scanned it with her tricorder. "Nothing unusual about it," she reported. "It's a standard beacon, available everywhere in Federation space."
        "Who would just leave this here and not be around?" Picard asked, looking around the mountain top. "Hm," he said.
        "What is it, sir?" Darcy asked.
        "Over there is where the launch platform for Dr. Soran's solar missile."
        "I don't see anything," Nefaria said.
        "Exactly. It's gone. You can make out the duracrete foundations, but the structure is gone," Picard pointed out.
        "But didn't Starfleet retrieve all of Soran's technology before leaving the site?" Darcy wondered.
        A new voice jumped out at them. "You are partially correct, young lady."
        The group spun around and looked up at the new arrival. It was a woman standing on a rocky outcropping. She was clad in brown leather pants, a white long sleeved shirt, and a brown vest. Her long light brown hair whipped around in the wind. Her blue eyes flared with contempt and hatred. A disruptor just like Dr. Soran had used, was in her hands, primed to fire.
        "Who are you?" Picard asked, surprised that there was another person on the planet with them.
        "You're right on time," the stranger said. She glanced at Lieutenant Darcy. "In response to the young lady's question, yes, Starfleet did take the technology that Tolian had created. But not all of it. He hid some away in a secret location elsewhere on the planet. A location known only to his sister."
        The woman walked down, still aiming at Picard. "It's time for me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Soran. Doctor Zandria Soran to be exact." She sighed. "Timing was very important. I had to time the distress signal just right so only the Enterprise could receive it."
        "But...why?" Picard asked.
        "Why? Well... you did what the Borg couldn't. You killed my brother. You took the only living relative I had. It took me a long time to accept that. I think I used that time constructively. I used the time to come up with the proper response. After a time, I came up with the solution- an equal response. I'd do the same thing you did to me. I'll kill your family. I just wanted to let you know that." Zandria shrugged. "And now it's time for you to die."
        She quickly dropped to her knees and fired. The first shot went wide. Nefaria shoved Picard to the ground, and fired her phaser back in return.
        Picard slammed his combadge. "Enterprise, we're under fire! Beam us back up!"

        Data frowned upon hearing the frantic call. The comm system chirped. "Transporter Room One to Bridge. We've just lost our lock on the away team!"
        "What is the problem?" Data replied.
        "I don't know," the transporter chief answered back. "All of a sudden, some sort of forcefield went up around the site, like nothing I've ever seen before. The computer can't even confirm that the away team are on the surface. One second I'm getting a reading, another second I'm not getting a reading, and then again I get a reading of them in another location entirely."
        Data walked over from his command chair to an empty station, calling up the transporter readings. After a few seconds of rapid calculations, Data spoke to the transporter chief. "It is not our sensors that is the problem. The force field you have detected seems to have a temporal aspect to it. It is preventing a lock on the away team in realtime. I am attempting to calculate a way to lock onto them. In the meantime, continue your attempts."
        "Aye, sir. Transporter room out."

        Another disruptor blast whizzed in front of the Away Team, exploding a boulder in front of Nefaria. A hail of rocks rained upon her, making her fall back in pain. Without her protection, Picard was vulnerable. He pulled his phaser out, and raised it to fire at Zandria.
        She was quicker. She fired a blast which struck Picard squarely in the chest. He collapsed in a heap on the dirt, and Zandria laughed loudly. "Your family's next!" She tapped a button on her belt, and disappeared in haze of golden light. Darcy scrambled over to the wounded admiral, checking for a pulse.

        "Bridge, the strange forcefield has disappeared! I've got a lock on them!"
        Data looked up from the computer. He hadn't done anything to affect the force field. "Beam them up quickly," Data replied.
        Darcy's voice came on the comm channel. "The admiral's down! He needs emergency medical attention!"        
        Data opened his mouth to ask about the status of Admiral Picard when Lieutenant Rodenberg called out from his post at the helm. "Sir, a ship just came out of nowhere!"
        Data spun around from his station to look at the viewscreen. An Oberth class starship filled up the viewscreen. It fired torpedoes at the Enterprise. Data's eyes followed as the golden-red balls of fire streamed out towards the Enterprise. Suddenly the lights on the bridge started blinking on and off.
        Data didn't have time to ponder on the oddness of it because the deck shook beneath him.
        "We're hit!" the officer at the tactical station yelled out. "The torpedoes went through our shields as if they weren't there!"
        "Evasive maneuvers!" Data commanded, as he made his way back to the command chair.
        Lieutenant Rodenberg put the Enterprise in a steep dive, angling out of the way of fire. The mystery ship fired several more odd torpedoes then went into warp. Some of the torpedoes struck the shields harmlessly, while a few apparently bypassed the shields to strike the hull with destructive force.
        Data tapped his combadge. "Bridge to Sickbay, status of Admiral Picard?"
        The Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Crusher, responded. "He's not good. The disruptor took out most of his vital organs. I'm keeping him on lifesupport but he needs a medical facility if he's going to live!"
        "Sir, do we pursue?" Rodenberg asked Captain Data. The android ran the thousands of possible scenarios in several nanoseconds in his positronic brain. Only one conclusion satisfied him, the survival of Admiral Picard.
        "Negative. Tactical, track the ship's warp vector, and send out a general alert with the ship's description. Helm, set course for Starfleet Medical 301, warp nine."
        La Forge's voice came on the comm system. "I'm sorry, we only have warp six available. That ship took a lot out of us."
        Data's face twisted in a frown. "Best possible speed," he growled. "Engage."
        Rodenberg nodded and tapped in the commands on his console.
        Data turned his attention to La Forge. "Get us warp nine, the admiral's life depends on it!"


Chapter Three
The Chronoal Chase

        Vekmon entered his office, thinking about what a beautiful morning it was. He went through his usual morning routine. He set down the study PADDs on the chair next to the door. He sat at his desk and asked for a overview of e-messages awaiting him. His routine was interrupted, though, with a subspace call.
        "This is Commodore Vekmon," he said, tapping on the receive panel on his desktop computer."
        "It's Zan," a woman said on his screen. "How are you, Robert?"
        "I'm doing very well. Did your business go well?" he asked his wife.
        She smiled. "It went exactly as planned. I knocked them dead. I'm on my way home. I should arrive in the next fourteen hours."
        Vekmon smiled. "That's terrific. I've missed you. I have interesting news to tell you."
        "And I've missed you too. I also have great news to tell you too!" Zan said.
        Vekmon nodded to her on the screen. "You go first."
        "Allright. On my trip, I picked up the final components we needed to make our device work. We can install it and get the device running when I get home."
        Vekmon drew a deep breath. "That's great," he smiled. "You have good timing."
        "I know," she smiled. "Timing is everything. What about your news?"
        "Oh, that can wait until you arrive. I'll get everything prepared and request a sabbatical, so we can get to work on our secret project."
        "Ok, honey. Good bye." The screen went black.
        Vekmon leaned back in his chair. He looked at the PADD that contained Stuvor's secret message. "Sorry, but I couldn't resist," he murmured to the PADD.

        After the final supply run was made, Captain Johnson called a senior staff meeting. Captain Worf was also invited to attend.
        Sitting at the far end of the table on the right with his back against the window was the Chief Medical Officer Dr. Edward Hartman, who was rubbing his eyes, apparently roused out of sleep. On his left sat the Chief of Security, Chief Leo Bogarde. Next to Bogarde sat the Engineering Chief, Fonda, and Captain Worf. The ship's diplomat, Ambassador Nathan Favor, sat next to Hartman. He leaned over to the doctor. "You allright, Ed?"
        "Yeah, I'm fine," Hartman replied.
        "Your eyes are really red," Favor said.
        "I'll get eyedrops after the meeting," Hartman shrugged, waving off Favor's concern.
        Next to Favor was the ship's first officer, Major Max Ironsides. Captain Johnson took a seat in the remaining vacant seat. He nodded to Worf, acknowledging his special presence.
        Johnson cleared his throat and clasped his hands together. "We have a critical situation here," Johnson said. "Less than twenty-six hours ago, the Enterprise investigated a distress signal on Veridian III." Worf shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but continued listening.
        "There, Admiral Picard and his away team encountered a woman, who then fired at Picard. He sustained life threatening injuries. My last report indicates that he's in critical care on Starfleet Medical 301."
        "I know that place," Hartman nodded. "They have some of the best staff and equipment in the Federation." Johnson nodded, then resumed his briefing.
        "Who was the woman?" Ironsides asked.
        "She called herself Doctor Zandria Soran," Johnson said.
        "Doctor Tolian Soran had a sister?" Worf asked shooting a startled look at the captain.
        "Apparently so. We've known Dr. Zandria Soran as Zandria Ronas. Our records indicate that she has been working with a team of temporal physicists on a research ship, the U.S.S. Tempus." Johnson pressed a button on the controls in front of him on the table. A picture of Zandria Soran and of the U.S.S. Tempus popped up on the conference room computer screen.
        "Ronas... that's an anagram for Soran," Favor pointed out.
        Johnson paused then nodded. "So it is. Good catch. In any case, shortly after Zandria somehow transported off the surface, leaving Picard for dead, the Tempus appeared out of nowhere. The ship fired upon the Enterprise, damaging it badly."
        Bogarde gave a skeptical cough. "The Tempus is only an Oberth Class vessel, just a tiny science ship."
        "Her weapons weren't standard. Captain Data was in command when Picard went down. He has analyzed the weaponry is tachyon based. Time weapons, so to speak," Johnson shrugged. "Their torpedoes seemed to go in and out of temporal phase. When they were out of phase, they could go through shields easily. Then they blink back into phase, and boom."
        Johnson shifted in his seat and leaned forward. "The Tempus's last course was for Earth. It seems that Zandria is not done with her vendetta yet. Several other ships tried to stop the Tempus, but were fought off."
        "So, what's Zandria planning to do?" Bogarde asked.
        "Unknown at the moment. Now that our supplies have been stowed away, I've ordered a course for Earth, at high warp. We've been ordered back to investigate."
        "We're going to be postponing the Borderlands mission, aren't we?" Favor asked.
        "Looks like it."

Chapter Four
Slipping out of Our Grasp

        "Captain's Log. Supplemental," Johnson began. "We've rendezvoused with the U.S.S. Leonidas. Fortunately, they were at Starfleet Medical 301 when Picard was brought in. It was a simple matter for me to contact them and request that they transport Captain Data and Commander Troi over to the Courageous. Data has the best knowledge of the tachyon based weaponry Zandria seems to be using. As for Troi, I requested her for her psychological skills. This Zandria Soran seems to be a few cards short of a full deck, just like her brother. That's always the most volatile adversary.
        "Captain Worf requested to stay on the Courageous, but a flurry of Dominion activity near the Bajor sector demanded his attention. Deep Space Nine still isn't up to 100% after the Starbase 51 incident. Worf and the Defiant are needed there. However, before he left, I had him provide Major Ironsides with a detailed report of his knowledge and experience with Tolian Soran's weaponry. That information should assist us.
        "Regarding Picard's condition...Admiral Picard's status remains in doubt. The medical team on Starfleet Medical 301 did the best they could. The rest is up to Picard.
        "As for Zandria's ship, the U.S.S. Tempus...it's disappeared. However, we've found the bodies of the temporal physicists that she had been working with. They had been ejected out of an airlock at the last known position the Tempus was at, before it reappeared at Veridian III.
        "It doesn't make sense. We know all about Soran's technology, and how to protect our sun from it. Ever since the Enterprise sent out the general alert, we have all of our ships on the lookout for the Tempus. She wouldn't proceed with such an obvious plan. There has to be something more to it..."
        Johnson sighed and rubbed his chin, looking at his reflection off the desktop computer monitor. "End log entry," he said to the computer. He stood up and walked out of his ready room and headed onto the bridge.
        On the way out from the bridge, he passed Ironsides at the OPS station. Data was there with the major. Johnson looked at the android captain. "Captain. I wanted to tell you we appreciate your assistance."
        "You are welcome," Data replied.
        "How are you doing here?" Johnson asked.
        Ironsides said, "We're doing fine. Data was just finishing up giving us the information on the Tempus's weaponry. The information is very interesting."
        "I'm sure," Johnson nodded. "Such as a torpedo that shields can't block."
        "Hopefully we'll be able to capture the Tempus and study the modifications," Ironsides said.
        "First things first," Johnson said. "We have to take care of the threat."
        "Of course," the major nodded.
        Johnson turned to Data. "Looks like you're helping out already. I want us to be prepared if we have to face the Tempus."
        "Yes, sir," Data nodded.
        "You've been working nonstop since you came aboard. Why don't you take a break?" Johnson asked.
        "I do not require rest, Captain. I can be most useful on the bridge or Engineering," Data informed him.
        "Right. Well if you're finished here, I'm sure Chief Fonda might use another pair of hands in Engineering," Johnson suggested.
        "Thank you, sir." Data nodded at Major Ironsides, and left the OPS station, entering the turbolift.
        Johnson went over to his command chair.
        "Sir, we're entering the Sol system," Ensign LeAnn Walker, the half-Bajoran pilot, said.
        "Very well. Drop out of warp and proceed at full impulse for Earth."
        "Aye, sir," LeAnn said.
        The Courageous smoothly dropped out of warp, and sped along at impulse.

        "That's the last of the components," Vekmon said, brushing his hands off. "Now all that's left is to beam down the equipment you brought back with you." He stood in front of Zan in their secret laboratory. "Assembly should be quick."
        "That's good," Zan said to her husband.
        "The temporal shielding on the ship is working?" Vekmon asked.
        "Working perfectly. No one can detect it at all. The team is happy about it. And I'm happy about it."
        "I'm happy about it too. We can't afford for the Department of Temporal Investigations to catch us."
        "Don't worry, dear. They won't catch us. No one will catch us. And even if they do stumble upon us, it'll be too late."
        "Hmm?" Vekmon looked at his wife. "Oh yes. We'll already have used the device. I wish Stuvor was here to see his plans turned into reality."
        "Accept it. He's dead. But his brilliant plans will help us. It was such a stroke of fortune that we met at that conference. I never would have gotten anywhere with my designs had you not told me of your own work."
        "Well," Vekmon sighed. "Actually, I wanted to tell you something..."
        "Shh!" Zan hissed. She walked over to a wall computer panel. It was beeping softly. She turned to Vekmon. "I'm sorry. I need to go up to the ship. There's something I have to take care of. Stay here and start connecting the power source. When I get back we can test the device."
        "Allright," Vekmon nodded. He held up a PADD, looking at the schematics on the device. "Bye, Zandria."
        
        Johnson rose from his seat as Earth came into view. "Hail Starbase O1," he said to Bogarde.
        "Aye, sir," the tactical officer replied. Soon the viewscreen was showing Admiral Okunbach. The oriental man frowned thoughtfully, looking at Johnson.
        "Captain Johnson," Okunbach said.
        "Admiral Okunbach. Any sign of the Tempus?" Johnson asked.
        "Not as of yet. We've been on full alert ever since we got word the Tempus was headed for Earth. I've also placed several ships along the most direct trajectory to the sun, in case she manages to fire off a sunkiller missile. They should be able to knock it down."
        "Good planning," Johnson nodded. "We'll join the other ships. Johnson out." The viewscreen shifted back to the exterior view of Starbase 01.
        The turbolift doors opened and Data stepped out onto the bridge. "Sir, I have news to report."
        "What is it, Data?" Johnson asked.
        "I believe I have a method to flush out the Tempus. I've analyzed the Enterprise's sensor readings prior to the Tempus's sudden appearance. It seems that Dr. Soran has developed a new form of cloaking device, one utilizing temporal distortions as opposed to the current use of spatial distortions."
        Data went over to the science station near the tactical station. The officer seated there moved to allow Data to sit. Johnson went over to look over Data's shoulder.
        Data continued on. "Based on this premise, I've calculated that using our conventional methods for finding cloaked vessels should work."
        "Bombarding space with tachyon particles?" Johnson asked.
        "Correct. However, we shall need to energize those tachyon particles to vibrate at higher frequencies, in order to penetrate temporal distortions."
        "Allright. Make it so," Johnson nodded.
        Data looked up at him oddly.
        "What?"
        "Nothing, sir. I shall contact Engineering to put our plan to use." Data tapped his combadge. "Bridge to Engineering. Lieutenant Commander Fonda, implement tachyon agitation, and prepare to release."
        "Aye, sir," came the reply.

        Within a few moments, the Courageous was ready to hunt for the Tempus. Johnson sat in his command chair. Ironsides sat in the first officer's seat, letting Data use OPS.
        "Commence tachyon bombardment when ready," Johnson said.
        "Aye sir. Initiating bombardment," Data said. On the viewscreen, Earth rippled as a wave of tachyon particles swept forward from the Courageous's navigational deflector. The large ship moved slowly in its orbit around Earth, spewing forth subatomic particles and scanning carefully.
        Finally, they found their quarry. Johnson narrowed his eyes as they saw a severe distortion appear off the port bow. What once seemed like empty space was now filled with the familiar sight of an Oberth class ship. It seemed to be vibrating badly, jerking around. Soon the distortion cleared.
        "It's the Tempus," Bogarde confirmed.
        "Wait, what's that?" Ironsides called out. A flash of light appeared beneath the Tempus's circular saucer.
        "Magnify," Johnson ordered. The viewscreen zoomed in onto the flash. It turned out to be the flare of a miniature impulse engine mounted on the back of a long cylindrical object.
        "I know that. That's one of Soran's sunkiller missiles!" Ironsides called out.
        Johnson clenched his jaw. "Fire!"
        "Aye, sir," Bogarde said. "Firing."
        The Courageous sent out a stream of red phaser fire at the missile, striking it dead center. The missile continued on its path, unfazed.
        "No...effect sir?" Bogarde mumbled, confused.
        "What? Fire again!"
        Bogarde did, and again, the missile came away unscathed, already past the moon now.
        Data cleared his throat. "It seems the missile is protected by some sort of temporal forcefield, much like the one we encountered on the surface of Veridian III."
        "Well after it! Match course and speed!" Johnson told his helm. LeAnn and Ruiz worked together in tandem to set the Courageous in a pursuit course.
        "Bogarde, contact the other ships, tell them to keep firing on the missile, phasers, torpedoes, anything!" Johnson called out.
        "Data, can't you find a way to break through the forcefield?" Ironsides asked.
        "Working..." Data ran his hands at lightning fast speed over the OPS console, performing trillions of calculations in his mind in conjunction with the ship's computer.
        Suddenly, the ship shuddered violently, nearly tossing Johnson out of his seat. "What was that?"
        Ironsides quickly glanced at his side computer monitor. "The Tempus was firing at us and the other ships. Minimal damage to our ship. However, a torpedo struck us, causing a disruption in our EPS system."
        "That didn't feel like an explosion, more like a collision," Johnson said.
        "Correct. Apparently it was a dud. It breached the primary hull but the secondary hull is holding. I've got a forcefield in place. Repair teams are on their way."
        "Good," Johnson nodded, turning his attention back to the sunkiller missile. They were already past Venus, and the sun loomed closer.
        "Sir," Bogarde called out. "I have the U.S.S. Hood on the channel."
        "Onscreen," Johnson ordered.
        The face of Captain Riker appeared on the screen. "All ships, the Hood sustained severe damage from the Tempus. We are unable to pursue, so I've ordered us to pull back to the Tempus."
        Johnson sighed. That meant one less ship available to intercept the sunkiller missile. "Bogarde, status on the other ships' efforts?"
        "Sir, all the other ships report no effect," Bogarde replied. "Phasers and torpedoes had no effect on the missile."
        Johnson sighed frustrated. He looked at the missile on the viewscreen as it shrugged off the Courageous's phaser fire. Bogarde continued firing, but still, the missile continued inexorably on to the heart of the sun.
        Johnson stood up. "Ensign LeAnn, take us directly in front of the missile. Place us directly in its path."
        LeAnn looked back at her superior. The look of grim determination on his face told her not to question his decision. She turned back to her console. "Aye, sir."
        The Courageous sped up, overtaking the missile, then turned about, coming to a full stop. The bridge crew fell silent as the missile headed directly for them, on its preset course for the sun. "Collision in twenty seconds," Ruiz announced.
        "Ten seconds...nine...eight...seven...six...five..." The missile grew larger on the view screen. "Four...three...two...one." Johnson closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, probably his last.

        "Unbelievable," Riker muttered, looking at the viewscreen as the Courageous stopped in front of the missile. He looked at the rest of his bridge crew. "Okay, maybe we can still do something. Scan the Tempus for lifesigns."
        "I'm not showing any lifesigns," Lieutenant Parker said from OPS. "But I think I read a transporter signature."
        "Really? Where to?"
        "I think somewhere in San Francisco."
        Riker stood up from his chair. "Parker, you're with me, we're going down there." Riker looked at the security officer at tactical. "You too, Khell."
        "Sir, should you be doing this yourself?"
        "Our comm system is damaged. My first officer is out of commission, and Security Chief Narkann is stuck on Deck 14. Who else is there to call?" Riker asked, as he entered the turbolift. "Hurry up!"

        Vekmon looked up to see Zandria materialize in the warehouse. "Have you taken care of your unfinished business?" he asked.
        "Yes. There's nothing left for me to do up there. Now, how are you doing?" she asked.
        "Nearly done. I'll need your help to calibrate the power flow though." Vekmon walked up to Zandria, handing her a wristband. "Here's a remote control. It's tuned to communicate through time to the control computer. One of Stuvor's ideas, come to reality."
        "Yess...," Zandria hissed, smiling. "I remember us discussing that."
        "Press this, if you need an emergency transport back to the present. Got it?" Vekmon looked up at Zandria.
        "Yeah sure. Come on, let's finish assembling the device!" she smiled.
        "Whoa, what's the rush? I thought we'd take a break first?" Vekmon shrugged.
        "Well, I'm just so excited. We're nearly finished. Don't you want to finish as soon as possible?"
        "Ahh, Zan. You know me so well."
        "Of course I do, honey," Zandria said. "Now, what power junction do I need to calibrate?"

        Riker, Parker and Khell materialized in the middle of a storage complex. Riker looked around at the large warehouses surrounding them.
        Parker flipped open his tricorder quickly, and rotated in 360 degrees.
        The security officers held their phasers at the ready, as Riker did.
        "Anything?" Riker inquired to Parker.
        "I'm getting nothing."
        "What about the sensor recalibrations that Captain Data sent out to us? Can you do that on this tricorder?"
        "I can try."
        "Do it," Riker ordered. He looked at the security officer. "Scout around. Maybe you can see something."
        The security officer nodded, and headed down a nearby alley between two large warehouses.
        Riker took the opportunity to look around himself. In the distance, he could see the high rise buildings in downtown San Francisco. "Parker, are you sure this is where the signal ended up? I can't believe Soran would be anywhere remotely near Starfleet Headquarters."
        "I'm almost done," Parker said, tapping on the controls of the tricorder. "Okay." He rotated once again, and the tricorder bleeped rapidly.
        "What do you have?"
        "Faint tachyon signatures in that direction."
        Riker tapped his combadge. "Khell, we've got a reading." Riker looked at the tricorder. "Head to the north part of the compound, north by northwest."
        The security officer signaled his acknowledgement.
        Parker led the way, and Riker followed close behind.

        When the expected explosion didn't occur, Johnson opened his eyes. The missile was still on it's way to the sun, in front of the Courageous. "What happened?"
        "It seems the missile passed through us," Data remarked. "It has entered the sun's corona."
        Johnson quickly looked up at the viewscreen. Data was right. The missile disappeared within the sun. "No!" Johnson gasped. The bridge stood still, paralyzed by the realization that they all failed and the Sol System was going to be gone in a matter of seconds.
        "Wait. I am not detecting any unusual solar activity," Data announced from the OPS console. After a few seconds, the android looked up. "It appears the missile was a... dud."
        Johnson looked at Data blankly for a second. "Ha," he said, half laughing and half gasping. He heaved a sigh, composing himself. The rest of the bridge joined him. They all readjusted their perceptions, now that the end of the world didn't come to pass.
        "Sir, there's a possibility this missile was a diversion," Ironsides spoke up.
        "I was just thinking the exact same thing," Johnson said. He walked back and sat in the command seat. "Helm, take us back to the Tempus, as fast as you can."
        "Aye, sir" LeAnn said. She ran her fingers across the console. The stars remained still on the viewscreen.
        "Ensign LeAnn?" Johnson said.
        "I know, sir. The pilot controls aren't responding..." she said. Then the warp engines hummed, and the ship started moving.
        Johnson looked over at Ironsides at his side. "That was very odd. Have Fonda look into it."
        The major shrugged. "It might have been an aftereffect of the missile passing through us."
        "Nevertheless, I want it checked," Johnson said.
        "Aye sir."

        Vekmon and Zandria stood before their device, looking at it humming efficiently. A large circular portal shimmered in several hues of colors. "Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Vekmon asked his wife.
        "Mm," Zandria replied noncommittally.
        "Just imagine. The first independent fully functional timeportal that will transport organic materials through time," Vekmon sighed. "Now, maybe the Department of Temporal Investigations will listen to me after I return."
        "Let's go in," Zandria said.
        "Allright." Vekmon went over to the bags that were set near the portal's computer console. He picked up the large bags, and hefted the straps onto his shoulders.
        "Go on ahead. I have to make a few minor adjustments," Zandria said.
        "Allright," Vekmon nodded. He walked up to the shimmering colors. Zandria went over to the controls. She ran her slender fingers over the computer panel.
        "Allright, you can go in," she said. Vekmon nodded and stepped through the rippling colors. He vanished.
        Zandria smiled grimly. She pressed a few more buttons, and put her hand underneath the console, pulling out a disruptor.
        "Hold it!" a voice echoed through the warehouse.
        Zandria spun around, shocked. She saw a tall bearded Starfleet officer aiming a phaser at her. Another Starfleet officer stood next to him, holding a tricorder.
        "I know of you," Zandria said, bringing her disruptor up to aim at the interloper.
        "I know of you too, Doctor Soran. Put down your weapon and step away from the console."
        "Riker! Ahhh yes. Picard was your captain."
        Riker stood mute, his phaser still aimed at Zandria.
        "Tell me, how is Picard faring these days?"
        "You should know," Riker said. "I'm not going to warn you again. Put down your weapon and step away from the console!"
        Zandria's steely gaze bored into Riker. Her gaze shifted to Riker's side. He glanced over to see what Zandria was looking at. He saw that Khell had just arrived.
        That moment's break was all Zandria needed. She fired her disruptor. The shot hit one of the newly arrived security officer. The disruptor blast hit the young green-skinned man on the shoulder. The energy radiated outwards, eating into the Khell's body. He gave out a strangled shout, but soon dropped to the ground, dead.
        Riker turned his eyes back onto Zandria and fired his phaser.
        Zandria ducked in time. She stood again and raised her disruptor. Riker ducked and rolled to avoid the anticipated counterfire.
        Instead, Zandria turned to the console, and pressed a button. She looked back at the Starfleet officers and grinned. Then she quickly ran into the shimmering portal.
        Riker ran up to the console that Zandria had been standing at. He glanced down at the readouts. He spun around, his face stricken with fear. "Get out! Get out, the whole place is going to blow!"
        "What about you, sir?" Parker yelled out.
        Riker's answer was inaudible over the fiery explosions that began ripping through the warehouse.

        Johnson looked at the drifting Tempus. "No life signs, no energy activity, nothing at all," Bogarde was telling the captain over the comm system.
        "Damn!" Johnson said. "That missile was most certainly a diversion. But for what?" He turned to Ironsides who was at tactical. "If there's nothing on the ship that can tell us what or where Zandria Soran is, recall the Away Team. Have you been able to raise the Hood yet?"
        "No, sir. They're not responding to our hails yet," Ironsides shook his head. He tapped on the console before him. "Ironsides to Away Team. Return to the Courageous."
        "Wait, sir!" Bogarde called out. "I think I've found something. Hold on..."
        Johnson waited until Bogarde started talking. "I've found a working comm system. It has a file in replay mode. Let me patch it through."
        The viewscreen suddenly showed Zandria Soran's face. She was smiling. "How did you like my little distraction? Bet you thought you were going to have to kiss Earth good bye?
        "Well you're still going to have to kiss Earth good bye. By now, the effects of the second rocket I launched should be taking place. Oh, what's that? You didn't know I fired a second missile?
        "That's ok. I didn't. And I already did. But first, a parting gift to my uninvited guests." The message ended.
        "What did she mean by that?" Johnson asked, when Bogarde's voice came on.
        "The ship's set to self-destruct now! Get us off here!"
        Johnson whirled around to look at Data. He nodded confirming the danger. Johnson barked out, "Get them off and get us away at a safe distance now!"
        "They are onboard now," Data called out. Johnson watched at the viewscreen as the Courageous backed away from the Tempus. The first destruct charges blew, shattering part of the hull. The rest of the charges exploded, turning the ship into debris.
        Ironsides glanced at his seat's monitor. "Minimal damages to the shields from the debris. We're ok."
        "What about the Hood?"
        "They were already out of range."
        Johnson sighed and gritted his teeth. He thought about the message. "What the hell was she talking about?" Johnson asked.
        "I believe I know," Data said. "Look." He pointed to the viewscreen. Johnson looked. The sun's brightness was fading gradually.
        "She fired another missile already?" Johnson asked.
        "Yes. But not recently. I believe she did it in the past. The temporal ripples are only now catching up to us. In less than a minute, the sun will be gone, and so will be Earth."
        "What? When did she fire the missile?" Johnson asked.
        "I would estimate sometime in the late nineteenth century," Data said.
        Johnson rushed back to his seat. "Ironsides, contact the Department of Temporal Investigations, and tell them that we've gone to stop Zandria Soran."
        Ironsides nodded briskly and set to work.
        Johnson snapped a look to Data. "I don't need an estimate. I need a specific time. Now."
        Data looked down at his controls, his hands moving faster than the eye could see, working. "Sometime in the range of 1857 and 1859."
        "Come on, I need better than that!" Johnson yelled.
        Data cocked his head oddly, staring off in space. "August 13, 1859."
        Johnson and Ironsides stared at the android, who still had a vacant look on his face.
        "Good enough," Johnson shrugged. He cleared his throat. "Computer, implement flight pattern Johnson-Kirk-Theta-Vi-H-Quartus. Calculate for August 10, 1859. That should give us enough leeway."
        "Com.....plying. Calculationscompleteasrequested," the computer spoke. Johnson turned to give a pointed look at Ironsides. The major nodded, understanding the unspoken order.
        "Engage," Johnson said.
        "Sir, I've just lost all flight control!" LeAnn called out from her post at the helm.
        "My controls aren't responding either," Lieutenant Ruiz said, looking at the navigational controls.
        "I know. Just hold on," Johnson said, as he gripped his armrests. "Ironsides, transmit the date information to the Department of Temporal Investigations headquarters."
        "Aye, sir," Ironsides said. His hands paused over the comm controls as he looked at the viewscreen. The slowly dimming sun grew larger. He widened his eyes as he realized the Courageous was heading directly for it.
        "Engineering to bridge, what the hell is going on?" Fonda's voice came on the comm system.
        "An old maneuver, maybe one you'll recognize. Channel all power to engines!" Johnson replied.
        There was a pause as Fonda assessed the situation. "I see. Aye, sir."
        "Sir, ship's speed has jumped up to Warp Five, and climbing," LeAnn remarked, worriedly. She too, saw the sun looming closer. "Warp Seven now...Warp Eight..Warp Nine!"
        The Courageous was nearly upon the sun. "How's the heat shielding holding up?" Johnson said as his teeth started rattling.
        "Interphasal shielding brought online, sir," Ironsides said from tactical. "We shouldn't have any problems with the sun's corona."
        "Warp 9.5," LeAnn announced as she gripped the helm console, holding on. "9.7....9.8...9.9!"
        The sun filled the viewscreen, the color slowly fading to orangish-red. "Sir, I believe you are attempting the sling-shot maneuver," Data said.
        "Got that right," Johnson said.
        "I am not sure if the sun's gravity is sufficient to catapult us. It is losing gravity as each second passes. It is fading from existence," Data replied.
        "Computer! Push the Nine barrier!" Johnson yelled.
        "Acknowledged."
        "Warp 9.99!" LeAnn shouted, surprised at the readouts on the controls. "9.999....9.9999..." The shaking was so bad LeAnn could barely read the numbers on the computer panel.
        "I believe we have breakaway speed," Data replied, his fingers digging into the hard metal of the OPS panel, as he struggled to remain standing during the vibrations.
        Everything went bright.

        "Sarah, I'm sorry I couldn't..."
        "If only I were around more, Little Leo..."
        "Dad, I don't want to be a junkheap pilot..."
        "I don't deserve to live..."
        "Should've bet on the Nausicaan..."
        "Mother, why did you reject me..."
        "I hope I never have to betray him..."
        "I love you, my daughter..."

        Everything went dark.

SECTION ONE | SECTION TWO | SECTION THREE | SECTION FOUR

 MISSIONS | PERSONNEL | SHIP SPECS | COMMENTS | CREDITS | MAIN