As the forty-nine-year-old Captain stood on the lift, she ran through the previous fourteen years of her life in her head. Fourteen years...we've been waiting to get home for over a decade. She smiled, thinking of how it seemed that almost yesterday she had taken on a rowdy, young Tom Paris. Yes, it had been a long time, but she was still learning about her crew, no matter how many of them she had known for that entire fourteen years...or longer. She stood with her hands behind her back, breathing in the recycled air. We've repaired timelines, faced off with the Borg, helped try to cure the Vedean Phage...there's still so much more we're going to do. I can feel it. I know there's a lot more to come.

Kathryn Janeway was certain that there were, however, still going to be some mysteries left in the universe when...yes, when...they returned home. "I'm not going to be a century old when this is over," she told herself aloud.

For a moment, she reflected yet again on their recent acquisition of star charts that would bring them that much closer to home. They didn't give them up lightly, but they realized we needed help.

Captain Kathryn Janeway stepped out of the lift doors, surveying the bridge about her. "Mr. Tuvok, what is our status?"

"We are headed toward Earth at Maximum warp, Captain," replied the Vulcan, his voice the flat monotone the crew had come to love. "Wait…" The Vulcan's ears detected the computer blip before the rest of the crew on the bridge could respond. "…Captain, I am picking up an ionic emission, possibly from a wormhole."

"Approximate location?" said Janeway, ready to change course.

"We have just entered the wormhole," said Tuvok, bracing himself as the bridge shook.

Captain Janeway marveled as the viewscreen went suddenly bright, then died to show a starfield that was just like any other...but she knew that it wasn't right. "Captain," said Lieutenant Tom Parris, studying his control panel, "We aren't in the Delta Quadrant, anymore." He looked up at her. "We aren't anywhere in what we'd call 'known space,' for that matter.

Captain Janeway stood, immediately staring out the viewer. "First the Delta Quadrant, then a wormhole to...where?" She studied her crew, bewildered. Tuvok was first to speak.

"It could be, Captain, that we have been transported to an alternate universe. However, I am showing no concrete data to suggest that we are in any type of unknown space, save for what the navigational sensors can tell us. Furthermore, I deduce that the Spatial Harmonics have been somehow...tampered with." The Vulcan looked on. "It could be that even a single Harmonic String could have been manipulated, whether in our own universe or in this one, so that the wormhole might have opened in an adjacent sector of our own universe and brought us in."

"Captain," said Tom, "Picking up a vessel. Looks like their weapons are charged." Tom looked over his shoulder, then back at the screen. "And I don't think that's a fighter escort."

"Evasive maneuvers! Red alert!" The orders were immediately carried out, the Voyager banking starboard to evade a full salvo of protonic missiles fired by fighters that looked as though they had no pilot. "Standby all weapons, lock phasers! Tom, get us as close as humanly possible to that ship! I want to evade their weapons fire as long as possible!"

"Aye, Captain!" replied Tom, maneuvering the Intrepid-Class starship close enough to the unfriendly ship as he could. "This close enough for you, Captain?"

"Cut the sarcasm, Tom! Bring us about! Fire a full salvo of photons at anything that looks important!"

Tuvok responded rapidly, pressing a sequence of keys that unleashed what would have been a deadly salvo if the ship had not had such unfamiliar technology. "No effect, Captain," replied Tuvok.

Voyager's bridge shook as Tuvok's console chimed. "Dorsal shielding is down to seventy-three percent, Captain."

"Tom, evasive pattern Beta! Tuvok, take out their weapons. I want a nice clean shot!" As the Voyager maneuvered about for another run, coming in at high impulse, she took a hit on her port side. "Tuvok, full spread of torpedoes to their shields! Concentrate phasers on their weapons! Tom, maneuver us as close as you can figure to their bridge!"

"Captain," said Tuvok, "The vessel's bridge is halfway across the dorsal section of their hull. Their shields are plasmic, but will sustain a number of hits from projectile units."

"When we come about from their starboard, throw everything you've got at that bridge! I don't care if it's destroyed or damaged, I need to be able to outrun the bastards!"

Tuvok tapped keys on his console, responding with speed and effieciency seen in very few organic species. On the screen, Captain Janeway watched as the shields on their attackers seemingly gave way. "Their shields are down, Captain. We have three torpedoes left in the bays."

"Save them and open with a few friendly phasers, full tactical spread. Tom, get us in closer."

She watched from the command chair as Tom keyed in commands. "Captain, I don't mean to harp, but...closer?"

"Dammit, Tom! Move us in!"

"I was already doing that, Captain." The bridge shook, this time more violently than the other times the Intrepid-Class vessel had taken hits, and sparks flew from a few unfortunate consoles on the aft section of the command center.

"We have lost warp and impulse, Captain. Maneuvering thrusters remain, but they may not hold. Warp plasma is venting into space from starboard warp nacelle. We have lost port shielding."

"Keep our port away from them, Tom!"

"Aye, Captain." Tom responded more quickly than even Janeway had thought possible for the avid, young Lieutenant. Voyager banked, her ventral phasers pounding the bridge of the enemy ship incessantly.

"Their bridge is heavily damaged, Captain, but we are unable to sustain phaser power for more than thirty seconds at the present rate."

"Break off attack and take us toward the nearest M-class planet you can find, Mr. Tuvok. Coordinate your efforts with Mr. Parris."

Tom maneuvered the Voyager twenty-thousand kilometers out of the ship's range, but their fighters were persistent, and the battery was giving maneuvering thrusters one hell of a time. "Captain," said B'Ellana Torres, "We've got trouble with our engines! The warp core can't take much more of this! We'll have to eject!"

"We are approximately fourteen lightyears from any Class-M planet," stated Tuvok. "We will either let the core detonate or stand our ground."

Captain Janeway had just given the order to eject their precious warp core when another vessel made its way at an unbelievable rate onto their sensors. "We are receiving a hail, Captain."

"Onscreen."

The face of a middle-aged officer appeared on the main viewer. "Unidentified vessel, stand down and identify yourself!"

"Captain Katherine Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager," replied Janeway. "We were attacked by the vessel closing on us."

The officer gave a considering look. "Are you able to jump to hyperspace?" he said.

It was Captain Janeway's turn to be confused. "Hyperspace? May I ask what that is?"

The officer looked offscreen for a moment, then turned back to the crew on the bridge. "We'll talk about this later. When we have the full details, it will be after this engagement. Yularen, out."

Enterprise E

Captain Jean-Luc Picard, level headed to a very fine point and harsh when he needed to be but caring and kind, had always loved mingling with the crew of the Enterprise. Although it was rare to see him show much emotion aside from consideration of this or that, whatever the important matter happened to be at that time, he had a smile that, when seen by the crew, assured them that their Captain was in a good mood, and likewise approached him whenever they needed to discuss matters.

It was with some reluctance that he had been called out of his private quarters just before he had been about to lie down for a much needed afternoon nap. I'm going to have to remind Mr. Data that I don't want to be bothered with another discussion on human behavior...particularly when that behavior is the behavior of children or teenagers...and never, ever, when I - am - napping!

Picard stepped onto a lift and spoke, his voice a bit louder than he had meant it to sound, but he did not particularly care at that moment. "Bridge!" The lift started up, and only once or twice stopped to pick up a passenger or two. Whether anyone spoke to him, he did not notice. He simply needed to deal with Lieutenant Data, at the moment.

Arriving on the bridge, Picard spoke to Data. "What is it, Mr. Data?" he snapped, standing behind the android with some impatience. Data looked up at his Captain, then back down at his console. "A spatial anomoly has appeared on navigational sensors, Captain," he said, tapping a few keys. "They did not appear on any of our known maps or star charts. What is odd is that the ionic emissions showing on our sensors are of unknown origin, and composition is difficult to establish."

"Where does it lie in relation to our course, Mr. Data?"

Data pressed a few more keys on the touchscreen board in front of him and his brow furrowed, showing an odd combination of curiosity and concern. "We are too close to alter course, Captain. The wormhole has pulled us in." As Data spoke these words, the entire Enterprise shook, almost as if in response.

Picard grasped the chair Data sat in, holding on with everything he could. On the viewscreen, though at first he did not notice, the starfield had accelerated to an impossible array of colors and swirling shapes, now and then showing a view of a starfield, standing still in the distance behind these, always giving a view of globules of shifting shapes over static, almost as though they were looking into a lava lamp.

"I am showing that no time has passed from the time we entered the wormhole to the time we returned to normal space, Captain," said Worf before Picard had realized that the Enterprise had slowed to impulse.

"What's the situation, Mr. Worf? Casualties? Damage? Function?"

"Reporting fourteen non-fatal casualties, Sir. The worst Dr. Crusher has reported is a fractured jaw. Damage to the ship is minimal. Everything aside from Navigation and Engineering reports normal."

"What's the status in Engineering, Worf?"

"The warp core has been disrupted, but it should take no more than a few hours to restore full function. Navigation reports that..." Worf looked up to the Captain, who returned his gaze. "...they cannot identify our location, Captain."

Jean-Luc returned his gaze to the main viewer, which showed him a view of beautiful, ever-present stars that, if he was correct, should be somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant. But the starfield on the main viewer was unusual to Captain Jean-Luc Picard, who now sat in the command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise. "What happened, Mr. Data?"

The android turned toward him. Dr. Sung had done an excellent job in making him almost human, and it was with some difficulty that Picard forced himself not to laugh. "It appears as though we have entered an alternate universe, Captain," said Data, optical sensors showing mild curiosity. This was not unusual in the android. "Known star charts are useless here, and it..." Data was about to continue when his console chimed. Turning toward it, Data said, "It appears as though there is weapons fire just out of visual range, sir." The android turned to his Captain. "Should I set a course?"

"Do it, Mr. Data. Full impulse power. Yellow alert, Mr. Worf. And while you're at it, see if you can't contact any vessels that might be doing the shooting."

"Aye, sir," answered the bass-voiced Klingon, tapping his console. After a few tries and several moments, "No response, Sir. However, I am picking up a signal the sensors identify as NCC-74656 Voyager."

"Voyager?" said Picard, stroking his chin. "Whatever is Janeway doing here?"

"We are being hailed, sir."

"Onscreen, Mr. Worf."

"Glad to see you, Jean-Luc," said the familiar face of Captain Katherine Janeway. "It's been nearly fourteen years."

"No doubt some things have happened," replied Picard, standing. "What's going on at the moment?"

"Not much. A vessel of the Venator class, the Resolute, is finishing some rather rough shooting. They've agreed to assess the situation before helping us."

"I've never heard of those," said Jean-Luc, referring to the vessel and her affiliated classification. "Where are we? How did we get here?"

"Who knows? But I'll tell you one thing...it's going to be one hell of a time getting home."