Disclaimer: Not surprisingly in a fanfic, I don't own any of these characters. Star Trek still belongs to Paramount, and Babylon 5 belongs to JMS, along with all of their associated stuff.

Note: The point of intersection here occurrs in the aftermath of the Dominion War on the Trek end, while in the B5 universe, the events of "War Without End" are about to begin.

When the Looking Glass Shatters

Part I - Prelude to Chaos

Chapter 1

"Mr. Barclay, what do we have here?"

Lieutenant Reginald Barclay dropped the padd he was holding, and whirled towards the sound. "Captain? I w-was just uh, well, I was only..." Sudden recollection of his project lit his eyes. "I was d-designing a tactical simulation based on the capture of Cardassia Prime, and the battle that preceded it because it just occurred to me that there were probably other options available that would have cost the Federation less, and still have won against the Dominion, and it wasn't like I was going back to my holo-addiction, because I wasn't using that many hours and it seemed like a good idea - "

Captain Jean-Luc Picard waved aside the flustered engineer's explanations with an amused gesture. "No explanations needed Lieutenant, I was on my way to my quarters, and I thought I would drop in and see what it was exactly that you had been spending so much free time on. Besides," he finished with a wink; "You left the door unlocked."

Barclay paled. "Oops." Picking up the forgotten padd, he bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Would you like to see what I have?"

Picard nodded. "Of course." Barclay was a gifted engineer, even if a little eccentric, and it would be fascinating to see what he had come up with.

Tapping a button on the padd, Barclay called out, "Computer. Activate program 'Barclay Dominion War alternate 2.'" Almost immediately, the grey crosshatched grid lines of the holodeck walls disappeared, replaced by the vastness of space. Picard almost stepped back, as he was suddenly surrounded by… nothing. It was unnerving, but Barclay seemed to take it in stride. Immediately, Picard could pick out the bright glow of a nearby star (dimmed by holodeck safeties, of course), and just off to one side was the reddish sphere of a planet – Cardassia Prime. Looking closer, Picard could make out the tiny gnats of warships and defense platforms surrounding the planet. It was almost a peaceful scene, he thought. But seconds later, Barclay pointed out another swarm of dots closing on the planet. The 6th fleet. Picard winced, knowing what was coming next.

He wasn't surprised at all when the flare of phaser and disrupter shots were traded between fleets, but what happened next was surprising. Instead of enveloping the planet as had actually occurred, the fleet pulled into a wedge formation, heavy starships like Galaxies and Excelsiors at the center, lighter cruisers out to the sides, and the tiny tactical-fighters taking up the flanks. The Klingon and Romulan forces held back, and laid down a heavy fire from long range. Without pause, the miniscule Federation fleet tore into the equally miniscule Cardassian defenses, and ripped a path straight through to the surface. Then the simulation dissolved into a sparkle of multicolored light.

Picard blinked. "Impressive, Mr. Barclay. But why did the simulation just end there?"

Reg blushed. "Thank you sir. That's the point where the Defiant would have had a clear shot at beaming down Constable Odo."

"I see," Picard replied critically. "But when the attack was launched, Admiral Ross had no way of knowing that Constable Odo could force a surrender that way." At the engineer's flustered reaction, Picard diverted the subject with a tolerant smile. "What is the purpose of this simulation, though?"

"Well, I wanted to see if looking back at past mistakes could help our fleet tactics in the future." Barclay paused pensively.

"Excellent concept, Mr. Barclay. I've always been more of an archeologist than a historian, but that is a fascinating field… what could have been." Picard allowed himself a small smile, and glanced down into the void of artificial space, and back at Barclay, who was gone. What the hell? Picard looked around, disoriented, and noticed almost immediately that the quality of the light had changed, though he was still surrounded by stars. The sun… It had brightened considerably, and the color was a colder white than Cardassia's. On closer inspection, Cardassia Prime and its attendant micro-fleets were absent as well. And looking down… a chill swept through him. Directly underneath his feet were the words "U.S.S. Enterprise NCC-1701-E."

An even greater chill shot down his spine, when an all too familiar voice said, "I was hoping I could talk to you for a moment alone, mon capitan.

Picard didn't even have to turn around. He knew that voice anywhere, much to his own regret. "Q."

*****

Lieutenant Commander Data was staring blankly at the main screen from the captain's chair. It was the midnight shift, so Data had relegated the functioning of the standard shift routine to a very small part of his neural net. The rest of him was preoccupied with other matters. One segment of his mind attempted to discern why Spot had recently decided that his corner display case made a better scratching post than did the actual object Data had carefully researched and replicated. Another pondered Lieutenant Barclay's latest obsession with rewriting history on the holodeck. Still another worked out a musical composition he was creating, attempting to utilize the tempo of jazz music with the instruments popularized in the musical Rococo movements of the 22nd century.

"Barclay to Commander Data." The interrupting voice stopped, almost as if afraid to speak.

"Data here, Lieutenant. What is it?" he said with a ring of childlike curiosity.

"Well, uh… sir, I was here in Holodeck 2 with the Captain, and he… um, disappeared."

Data cocked his head. "The Captain vanished?" Several of the bridge crew started to snicker softly, but Data silenced them with a glance. "Explain."

"Well… I was h-here talking to the Captain, and I turned around, and when I looked back, he… well, was gone!"

Data frowned. Had Commander Riker been at the conn, Barclay would be wishing he hadn't called. But Data wanted to make sure. "Computer. Locate Captain Picard."

The computer bleeped, and the feminine voice replied, "Captain Picard is not on board."

Now, the entire bridge crew was clearly shocked. Data stood, and turned to the tactical officer, a recent transfer, Lieutenant Boral. "Lieutenant, scan the entire ship for the Captain's comm-badge."

The blue-skinned Bolian set to his task with gusto. It took only a few seconds for the high-powered sensors of the Enterprise to find the signal. Sighing with relief, Boral reported, "Sir, I've found him."

Data looked at the relieved Bolian. "Where?"

Boral adjusted the resolution of the sensors, and tweaked the display, so he could get an exact fix. When he did, his skin darkened in agitation. "Sir! The Captain! He's outside the ship!"

Data, unlike a human would have, did not stop to ask the obvious foolish question, but immediately demanded, "Is he wearing an environmental suit?"

Boral just shook his head. "No sir, but his life-signs are steady."

Data determined that if the Captain were indeed still alive, a few more moments would not lower his chances of survival any. He slapped his comm-badge. "Data to the Captain."

After a moment, Picard's voice floated over the comm, responding to an unasked question. "I'm here Data. I'll explain later."

Data pondered this for a minute fraction of a second, and came to a decision. "Commander Riker to the bridge."

After a second, Riker's voice floated back over the open channel. "I'm on my way Data, what's the problem?"

"Sir, Captain Picard is outside the ship."

"What?" Riker sounded dubious. "Why is the captain on an unplanned EVA?"

Not having aquired the human habit of staring up when speaking over the shipboard comm system, Data continued watching the sensor images on the armchair console. "There was no schedueled EVA, Commander. The captain is not wearing an environmental suit, but appears to be in no danger. I must admit, I am at a loss."

In the background, the sound of pounding feet was clearly audible. "Understood."

Riker broke the link, and Data leaned back the captain's chair, although having not yet perfected such movements, it still appeared to be a stiff position. "Lieutenant Boral, has there been any change in the Captain's situation?"

"No sir, I think that - " He suddenly cut off, leading Data to glance at him. "Wait a minute. He's gone! I'm now picking him up… inside his ready room?" The Bolian sounded terribly confused.

"Lieutenant, there is no direct access between the hull and the ready-room." Data lectured.

"I know sir, I don't understand it either!" Boral was terribly confused. It would take him time to get adjusted to the standard weirdness that seemed to dog the Enterprise. Data simply frowned, and waited for Riker to arrive.

*****

Picard turned to face the whimsical being, a very un-captainly remark on his lips. He checked himself – as much an irritant as Q was, it was easy to forget his true abilities. Picard still could not forgive Q for those eighteen crew members who'd been killed by the Borg when he had decided that Picard wasn't sufficiently terrified of the unknown, and had thrust the old Enterprise into their path. Turning on his heel, Picard confronted the bane of his existence, who, quite presumptuously, was attired in a Starfleet uniform with the rank pips of a admiral gleaming on his collar. "Q," Picard began, trying to salvage his temper, "Whatever game you've cooked up this time, I don't want any part of it. I want you gone."

Q drew back, and threw up his hands in mock affrontry. "Touché." Just as quickly, he resumed his usual haughty attitude. "I'll have you know that I have nothing but your best interestes at heart, Jean-Luc."

Picard was spared having to roll his eyes when his comm-badge chirped.

"Data to Picard," came the android's voice.

The captain tapped his own badge, picturing exactly what his second officer was doing. "I'm here, Data. I'll explain later." He cut the link, and glared at Q. "Enough, Q. I'll see you in my ready room."

Q paused, and glanced around, as if just now realizing their location was anything but normal for a starship captain. He inhaled deeply, and looked back at Picard. "Oh, come now, Jean-Luc, smell the solar breezes. I never mentioned it before, but you humans don't exactly smell like Bylian moon-flowers."

Picard tapped his foot. "Now, Q."

The omnipotent heaved a martyred sigh, and suddenly they were in the small ready room just off the bridge. "There, happy now?"

The scowl Picard turned on Q had melted junior officers. "Q, I won't be happy until you are off my ship."

Q thrust out his lower jaw at the captain, and his expression darkened. "Sutff it, Picard, this is bigger than you, bigger than your precious little Federation, and bigger than this entire trash-heap galaxy." He ignored Picard's silent fuming, and continued, in a lighter tone. "I'm giving you an opportunity here, Jean-Luc, so spare me your pontifications."

"Opportunity!" Picard was incredulous. "An opportunity to be a pawn in another one of your demented trials?"

Q leaned in very close, and shook his head. "This is the real thing, Jean-Luc." With a snap of his fingers, old-style military maps and charts were laid out across Picard's desk. The captain noted with little surprise that Q himself was now decked out in a starched white uniform that would have turned Napoleon green. Picard figured the medals on Q's chest were thick enough to serve double duty as armor.

Playing the part to the hilt, Q stuffed his right hand into his shirt, and slammed the other on the table, causing the small figurines scattered there to jump. "This is War, mon capitan."

"War? Q, the Quadrant is at peace for the first time in more than a century!"

Q sighed gustily. "Have you learned nothing from the last time we put your scroungy little race on trial?"

"Other than that you take a perverse delight in manipulating my perceptions," Picard snapped.

"Har har, Jean-Luc. To put it bluntly, in simple terms you can understand," Q said, ignoring the bristling Starfleet captain, "there is more to existance than your own subatomic snippet of it."

Picard had had enough of Q's condescension. The arrogant being's attitude was grating under normal circumstances, if anything involving Q could be called "normal", but this had the makings of another one of Q's little games. "Dammit Q, tell me why you're here, and what the devil you're talking about, now!" The rage came out in a rush, and Q flinched slightly.

"Yes, tell him, Q. If you're going to toss this little ship all over the multiverse, you owe him that much at least." The third voice cut in, and Q flinched even more sharply.

Picard blanched. The newcomer was a dark-haired woman with patrician features, and a self-centered bearing that made Q look positively humble. She had appeared in a flash of light identical to that which usually heralded one of Q's little tricks. That suggested only one thing to Picard. Trouble.

Q fidgeted uncomfortably, which gave Picard no small amount of satisfaction. "Q, this is Jean-Luc Picard, captain of this little trinket. Picard, this is Q," he paused significantly, "my wife."

The idea of Q being married struck Picard as outrageously funny, and witnessing her scathing attitude, he felt one flash of pity for Q, which he quickly banished.

"Well, Q?" asked the woman, ignoring the niceties of introductions.

Q heaved another sigh. "Oh, very well." He snapped his fingers, and his fancy uniform, the maps, and all the other trappings were consigned to the ether. "It's like this, Picard. There are forces out there who are trying to take advantage of the Q Civil War, and its aftermath."

"What forces would those be?" Picard asked reasonably. Then the first part of the sentance hit him. "And what's this about a civil war?"

"Oh, that, the Continuum had a... difference of opinion, you might say. But that's all over now."

"Oh, you're being much too modest, Q," the woman said archly.

"Well, of course I am," Q preened. "But that's not important now. You were asking about those 'other forces' I mentioned?" Instead of answering Picard's nod of confirmation, Q drew a blood-red letter "M" in the air, which hovered for a moment, and then vanished.

"Explain, Q."

"Come now, Jean-Luc, you didn't really think the Continuum was the only omnipotent race of beings in all the multiverse, now did you?" Without waiting for a reply, Q muttered something about "primitive little minds" to himself, then turned back to Picard. "As much as it humbles me to admit it, Picard, no, the Q Continuum is not the only omnipotent race out there, and in fact, the war to which I alluded to earlier has given our arch-rivals, the M Continuum, the opportunity they needed to run rampant across the multiverse, spreading havoc, destruction, and ruin in their wake. Oh, they've always gotten away with some of that, you know for the past few million years, the Q Continuum has been pretty hands-off - "

"Present company excepted, of course," Picard remarked drily. He ignored Q's glare, and walking over to the chair behind his desk, sat down facing the two godlike beings. The female Q's attitude blasted Picard's dubious hope that other members of the Q Continuum were less irritating than Q himself, and he still found the concept of Q's state of marital bliss (or lack thereof) quietly amusing, if in a morbid way. "So what makes this M Continuum any worse than your own, and why are you pestering me about it?"

To Picard's surprise, it was the femal Q who answered.

"To classify the M Continuum in a way your primitive conceptions can handle, think of them as the omnipotent version of the Romulan Empire." She cut off Picard before he could even open his mouth. "No, before you ask, that is a woefully inadequate comparison. They are ruthless, cunning, and they enjoy meddling in the affairs of less advanced species."

Picard was tempted to make the obvious sarcastic reply, but checked himself. As if knowing what he had been thinking, both Q's scowled at him. On second though, they probably did know what he was thinking. "Q, this is all very fascinating, but what does all of this have to do with us?" Suspicion dawned in his voice. "You aren't going to ask us to help you fight these 'M', are you?"

Both Q's laughed at that snidely. "Oh, heavens no, Jean-Luc," Q replied, still chuckling, "that would be like sending the Pakleds against the Borg."

The female Q smirked. "We're asking you to put out – brushfires, as it were. Setting right that which has gone wrong, and all that claptrap." Once again interuppting Picard before he could even begin to speak, she continued, "the M Continuum, M in particular, have been raising hell in multiple planes of existence, different universes, and different periods in time. We Q are much too busy to deal with such trivialities ourselves."

"To put it bluntly, Picard," Q said, leaning over the desk, and right into the captain's face, "I'm sending you off to handle the human aspect of things, defeating evil, saving the world, and all that nonsense. Your own puny little reality is safe for now, never fear." He sneered. "Of course, if you don't think you're up to the challange, it's no sweat off my nose. I'm sure I can always recruit some poor bumbling sod, maybe that rodent-faced chef from Kathy's ship, to try and restore the fabric of the multiverse... although I doubt humankind would last very long in most of them."

Picard pondered this for a moment. Granted, what happened to humanity in some other universe had no bearing on his own reality, but those people were every bit as real as he was. And the chance to explore entirely new dimensions didn't come along every day... However, first and foremost, his responsibility lay with his own ship and crew, and his own reality. "Q," he hedged, "If this is true, why not recruit dozens of me from other parallel universes?"

Q smiled disarmingly. "Why, mon capitan, what makes you think I'm not, right now?"

Picard was in no position to argue that, and he knew it. Evidently, so did Q.

"Alright, Jean-Luc, basically, I'm recruiting you, because what you do fundamentally affects all timelines that are similar to your own, or result from your own. So you'll never have to save a universe identical to this one, as big an ego trip as that might be for you."

Picard shook his head. This whole thing didn't make much sense. But the offer was tempting, and he couldn't deny that. Border patrols and flag-waving visits irked him, and he longed to be an explorer again – and what better unknown frontier than alternate realities and times? Starfleet could spare the Enterprise for the time being. Picard bit his lip, and glanced back up at the two Q's. "I'll need to speak to my senior officers, and inform Starfleet about your -"

"I knew you'd see it my way, Picard!" Q crowed.

"I didn't say - "

"Oh, don't worry, Jean-Luc, I wouldn't send you all on your lonesome." Q glanced around. "Junior! Get in here!" he shouted at the ceiling.

Junior? Picard thought in growing horror. He had seen that Q was married, and it was only a logical leap that... a flash of white light confirmed his worst fears.

Picard had never been fond of children. He barely knew how to relate to Wesley Crusher, and Beverley's son had been much more mature than most his age. Q's son, well, Q's son appeared to be a chip off the old block. Picard tried not to wince too obviously.

Q grabbed the teenaged boy around the shoulder, and pulled him towards the captain's desk, and with clear relish, said, "Jean-Luc, I'd like you to meet my son, q. Junior, this is Captain Picard."

The boy glared at his father, and elbowed the elder Q in the ribs. "Dad, I'm not an infant anymore." He gave the room a once-over, and shrugged. "So this is the human you're so interested in?" He sounded bored.

Q leaned over, and whispered something, which to Picard sounded like "he makes Aunt Kathy look positively forgiving," and the boy gulped, and stared at Picard more closely.

Picard had finally had enough. "Q, I did not say I would go off on this little jaunt of yours. I'll need to speak to my officers, and to Starfleet regarding your... proposal. You haven't given me one reason why I should put my crew at risk, and deprive Starfleet of the Enterprise without even knowing how long we'll be gone."

"He's right you know," the female Q interjected.

"Oh very well, Picard, if you must know," Q said, as if imparting a gift, "I've spent enough time around your little corner of the cosmos that it's drawn M's attention. I imagine that you in particular, Picard, would hold some interest for her. It would be better for all concerned, especially your Federation, if you were absent during this little skirmish."

"What else, Q?" Picard still had the feeling that Q was holding something back. Something that he was certain he would not like.

Q nudged his son. "See what I told you? He's not as limited as his tiny mortal mind would suggest." Turning back to Picard, Q nodded grudgingly. "There is one tiny little thing. Nothing worth mentioning, really."

Picard frowned, and Q sagged.

"I want you to take Junior along."

"Absolutely not! Q, this is a starship, not a nursery!" The younger Q bristled, but restrained himself at Picard's outburst.

"Oh, don't worry, he'll behave, this time." The female Q shot her son a warning glance, and he flushed and looked away.

Q looked around happily. "Then it's all settled." Seeing Picard's expression, he amended, "but of course, you can confer with all your little friends first."

Without waiting for a reply, Q and his wife vanished, leaving Junior still standing in Picard's ready room. Worse, Picard knew that if Junior displayed any of the abilities of his father and mother, if he wanted to stay, he was going to, whether Picard or anyone else wanted him to. Resigning himself to having the boy aboard for the time being, he tapped the comm-badge on his chest as he rose from his chair. "Senior officers to the conference room." He severed the link, and reaching over to the skulking young Q, plucked the shiny rank pips off his collar. Expecting a fight over that indignity, Picard was surprised when the boy simply shrugged. Not daring to hope that Q's son would prove more mature than his father, Picard stepped onto the bridge, where the crew fixed him with curious stares.

Riker, who had since taken command of the bridge, stood from the center chair, and walked over to his captain.

Picard held up a hand, and simply said quietly, "I'll explain in a few minutes, Will."

Riker nodded understandingly, and flicked a questioning gaze to the teenager standing behind Picard.

"Ensign Jonas," Picard said louder, to a security officer hovering near the aft turbolift, "Assign our... guest some quarters."

Even as the security officer left the bridge, Picard led the way into the conference room. He had a lot of explaining to do.