Chapter 4: McKinley Station, Orbiting Earth, 2400

"You never told me how you got permission to come up here in the first place," Miral Paris said as she and Andrew Kim headed down the corridor toward the airlock that led to the USS Galileo.

"I have some pull with my commanding officer," Andrew joked. "Dad thought I'd want to help you get settled in your new quarters."

The first series of doors to the airlock rolled open, and they stepped inside. When the second series of doors opened to reveal deck four of the Galileo, Miral drew in a breath. The ship was everything she had hoped it would be: gleaming and spacious and just waiting for her to come aboard.

"My quarters are this way," she said, leading Andrew down another corridor.

They both stopped abruptly when they reached her quarters. Her name had already been put on the door, and Miral fingered it lightly, feeling proud of herself and honored to be joining the vessel at the same time.

"Ensign Miral Paris," Andrew read aloud. "It has a nice ring to it."

Miral smiled. "Computer, open door, authorization Ensign Miral Paris," she instructed, eyes fixed on Andrew.

"Enter access code."

Miral took Andrew's hand and guided his forefinger across a sequence of four numbers. It was the same sequence that opened the Kims' front door, the same sequence that Andrew's mother used for everything that required a security code.

"Confirm access code."

Andrew keyed the four-digit sequence again.

"Access code confirmed." The doors hissed open.

As they stepped inside, Andrew asked, "Why did you use that code?"

Miral shrugged as she walked about the small interior cabin, taking it in. "It's your family code, isn't it? And I'm your family now. Besides, it's easy to remember. And if you ever visit, it'll be easy for you to remember, too." She set her duffel bag down on the brand new Starfleet-issue sofa. "I'm so lucky this ship doesn't have shared quarters."

"No kidding. Olnar sent me a message yesterday complaining that his cabinmate's hygiene leaves a lot to be desired."

"Come sit with me." Andrew joined her on the brand-new Starfleet-issue gray sofa, and she brought his hands into her lap. "I'm worried about my sister," she admitted. "I don't want to pull out of spacedock until I know she's going to be okay." Miral sighed. "What do you honestly think about Q telling her she has to help save the Continuum?"

"Well, philosophically, it raises a lot of questions."

"What do you mean?"

"Q said that my existence – my entire reason for being born – was to marry you. In some ways, that makes me question every other aspect of my life. Is it necessarily important that I serve in Starfleet? Is it important for me to even continue living after our wedding? Once that chain of events is completed, does anything else matter?"

"I don't think that's a productive line of thinking, honey."

"I don't feel sorry for myself," Andrew clarified. "I'm just trying to think critically about the situation."

"Well, couldn't all of that be true for any of our existences? If I was really intended to be the kuvah'magh, then why grow up? Didn't I serve my purpose just by being born?"

"You were chosen by the Klingon gods, and L'Naan and I were chosen by the Q."

Miral cocked her head to one side. "If you believe that stuff."

"You don't?"

"Klingon mythology is just that – mythology."

"There's no mythology surrounding the Q," Andrew pointed out. "Only truth."

"Then I guess," Miral said, pursing her lips, "your purpose is more important than mine."

"That's not what I meant." He turned to look at her, leaning close. "I meant that it makes our wedding really special."

"You are positively maudlin sometimes," she said, but she felt a smile spreading across her face, and she kissed him lightly. "God, Drew, when we were little, did you ever imagine we would end up getting married?"

Andrew gave a laugh. "When you first moved back to Earth, I thought you were disgusting, and I distinctly remember thinking of you as one of the boys when we were in middle school."

"Oh," Miral teased good-naturedly, "was that why you kissed Imani? She was one of the girls?"

Andrew wasn't certain how to respond. "I – I – she kissed me! She was very…attentive."

Miral's eyebrow arched. "And what about me? Did I just abandon you, my best friend, because you'd found some other girl?"

"Well, no. You were attentive, too. Just not…demonstrative."

"Uh huh." Miral rose from the sofa and opened her duffel bag, enjoying watching him squirm. She began to transfer her clothing from the bag to the dresser with her back to him.

"Oh, come on, Miral, that was a long time ago," he implored, mistaking her silence for anger. "It's not as though you weren't ever involved with other people." He followed her to the dresser and pulled her close, and she fell easily into his arms. "You know what my dad said a few weeks ago? He told me he was glad he and my mom were separated for so many years because they needed a chance to explore their possibilities before they decided they were right for each other."

"Do you think that was intended as a warning for us?"

Andrew tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "If it's fated, there's not much else we can do, is there?"

Miral looked into his eyes with a knowing smile. "To be clear, you're marrying me because…?"

Andrew smiled back. "Because I have to. Ow!" he gasped as her fist playfully struck his shoulder.

She escaped his grasp and began to unpack again. "We're supposed to be figuring out what to do to help my sister," she reminded him.

"Right. She's going to talk to Chakotay and the admiral today. I thought maybe you could see what kind of research Starfleet has on the Q as a species. I tried accessing the general library computer at work, but there's not much information available. Maybe the xenobiology lab will have more."

"I don't have access to the Galileo's systems yet," she reminded him. "I guess I could see if I can still get into my old work station at the Academy lab."

"I told L'Naan we'd meet at my parents' house tomorrow at 1300 to compare notes." Miral nodded. "Okay, then," Andrew started, making a slight motion toward the door.

Miral grabbed his hand to stop him. "Just because we're finished talking doesn't mean you have to go," she reminded him in a deep voice. "Private quarters, remember?"

Andrew grinned. "Private quarters. We should break them in."

They kissed for a moment, and then Miral said gently, "But you have to help me unpack first."

Earth, San Francisco, Starfleet Headquarters, Office of Admiral Kathryn Janeway

"Guess who's back," Admiral Janeway said, her lips set in a thin line. "An old friend."

Commander Icheb's eyes widened as he cottoned on. "Q?"

Janeway nodded, and it was apparent from the way her jaw was set that she was not amused. "At first he actually had me fooled into believing he just wanted to learn more about us," she confessed, half-nodding to the chair in front of her desk. "It turns out he came to recruit L'Naan Paris."

"Recruit her?" Icheb echoed as he sat. "For what?"

Janeway remained standing behind her desk, hands on hips. "To join the Continuum."

"Is that even possible?"

"I don't know, Icheb," she said, rubbing her temple. "Something's not right about this. I can smell it. There's more to this story than he's telling us."

Icheb didn't have to ask why he'd been summoned to her office. He'd come of age under her command, and he knew how things worked among her people: if one of them had a problem, all of them were expected to work together to help solve it. Although he didn't often see the daughter of his former shipmates, L'Naan was part of the Voyager family – just as he was. "What are we going to do about it?"

Softening slightly, Janeway finally sat down. "He's been asking about you. I think he still considers you his friend. Maybe he'll tell you more than he's told the rest of us. If he comes to see you, try to find out as much as you can about what's really going on."

Icheb nodded. "Of course."

Jupiter Station, Holodeck, St. Andrew's, Fourth Hole

Tom Paris grimaced as his putt angled to the left, missing the hole and picking up enough speed to roll ten centimeters further from it. He resisted the urge to curse. "Your turn, Reg."

"Finish putting," Barclay suggested.

"It's fine," Tom said gruffly.

Barclay positioned himself over his ball and tapped it gently with his putter to execute a perfect shot. He took two steps toward the hole and, using his putter to balance, he leaned down to retrieve the ball from the cup in one fluid movement. "Just a lucky shot. Your turn, Harry."

Harry Kim squatted down on the green to line up his putt. Then he stood over the ball, shuffling his feet slightly to find the right stance. He knocked the ball gracefully, but it came to a stop four centimeters short of the hole. Unlike Tom, Harry didn't hold back on the swearing. "Damn it! That happens to me every time!"

The Doctor patted Harry's shoulder gently. "Maybe we should try a different program. This doesn't seem to have the restorative effect I'd hoped."

Harry rammed his putter back into his golf bag and took a deep sigh. "Doctor, I appreciate your concern. But you don't need to worry about me. So I conceived a kid in an alternate timeline by having sex with my wife sixteen years in the past. It's not a big deal."

Tom cocked his head as he looked at Harry.

"Well, okay, it is a big deal," Harry conceded. "But Libby has made me realize that whatever the circumstances were surrounding Andrew's birth, at least we have him, and he's healthy and he just graduated, and that's all that matters."

The Doctor smiled. "I always knew Libby was a sensible woman."

Barclay carefully extracted the putter from Tom's hand and put it away for him. "How are you doing, Tom?"

He let out a breath. "I've got one daughter about to ship out, and a Q having sleepovers at my house. I don't know what he wants from L'Naan, but I don't buy this 'save the Continuum' plot for a second."

"When does Miral leave?" the Doctor wanted to know.

"The day after tomorrow," Tom answered. "She's hoping she'll get to say goodbye to you in person." The Doctor nodded. "L'Naan's always been the levelheaded one," he continued, more to himself than the others. "How could she possibly fall for Q's story?"

Reg, the Doctor, and Harry exchanged a concerned look.

"Maybe the Doctor's right. Maybe golfing isn't what you need right now," Harry suggested. "We should try a martial arts program."

Tom half-heartedly smiled at his buddy. "I think I pummeled you enough when Miral and Andrew got engaged."

"I didn't mean me," Harry corrected. "I meant the Doctor."

Barclay grinned as the Doctor took offense. "Oh, come on, Doctor, you're not programmed to feel pain."

"And that's supposed to make it all right?"

Tom hoisted his golf bag over his shoulder and clapped the Doctor on the back. "What we ought to do is skip directly to the nineteenth hole."

"Nineteenth?" Barclay asked.

"Yeah," Harry explained, "the bar."

Earth, Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence

While Andrew and Miral were moving the latter into her new quarters on the Galileo, L'Naan Paris was completing her part of their research project. She'd gone to visit the admiral and Chakotay to interrogate them on their memories of Voyager's Q encounters and, she hoped, to gain a little philosophical perspective along the way.

The three sat on the back porch of the farmhouse, shielded by the roof above from them the heavy rainstorm that was rolling across the Indiana fields. As L'Naan rocked back and forth in an old wooden chair, she sipped a glass of the admiral's homemade lemonade. She had made twenty minutes of small talk with the admiral and Chakotay, and she was finally ready to ask the real questions she wanted answered.

"Do you still believe in the sky spirits, even though you met those aliens?"

"That's a pretty heavy question," Chakotay said from the seat next to her. He took a drink of lemonade, and L'Naan caught him exchanging a look with Janeway. "What's on your mind?"

"Everything you ever taught me about gods of different cultures," she began. "I've been thinking a lot about what gods are and why people believe in them. Is believing in a god really any different than believing in the unseen laws of physics?"

"What do you think?" Janeway asked her gently.

"Let's say I construct an android next year at the Daystrom Institute. Will I be its mother or its god – or both?"

"I gather this has something to do with Q," Chakotay surmised.

L'Naan nodded as a clap of thunder crashed over them. "We thought the Q could control the fate of the universe, but then they asked you for help. How does that make sense? How can something omnipotent need help from anyone?"

Janeway poured more lemonade into each of their glasses and set the glass pitcher down heavily. "I'd prefer to think of it as one species helping another – just like Vulcans and humans working in cooperation – rather than Götterdammerung."

"Twilight of the gods," L'Naan echoed quietly as she took a pensive sip of her drink. What she hadn't told the admiral was that it was the Q's twilight. There was a lot more at stake than interspecies cooperation. But she had made a promise to Charlie not to reveal that to anyone, and she'd already broken it once, to Andrew. She was determined not to do that again.

"Have you talked to your mother about her Klingon spirituality yet?" Chakotay asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Chakotay," she reminded him, "I grew up talking about Klingon spirituality. Between her and you, I'm probably the most spiritually attuned person on Earth."

"Okay, okay," he said, backing down.

"Maybe you should have her meet her animal guide," Janeway suggested. She saw L'Naan's perplexed expression and explained, "Sometimes your animal guide has the answers you can't find from any person."

Paris, Place de la Concorde, Office of the Federation Liaison to the Klingon Empire

It was a slow day in the office. Anel, the secretary, was on vacation in Chile, and there were no scheduled meetings. B'Elanna Torres decided to take a break. She couldn't concentrate anyway.

When L'Naan had first presented the idea of joining the Q Continuum to her, B'Elanna's instinct was to forbid her daughter. She'd managed to corral that instinct, however, when she remembered the very serious rift she'd experienced with her own mother when she was L'Naan's age – a rift caused by their disagreeing views on how B'Elanna should begin her adult life.

She still didn't like the idea of L'Naan spending time with Q2, and she felt without a doubt that he was setting her up for some kind of disappointment. But one thing she and Tom had promised themselves was that they would reserve judgment and let their daughters make their own mistakes; it was an important part of coming of age. And, in Klingon terms, L'Naan had come of age when she'd undergone the Rite of Ascension. In Federation terms, she was eighteen. How she wanted to spend her life was now technically her own choice.

Still B'Elanna knew L'Naan was nowhere near ready to brave the world completely on her own, and she felt compelled to give her child the best advice she could. The only problem was that she wasn't sure what that advice was. There was, though, one person in the galaxy who had always been able to cheer her up in some of the worst moments of her life: when she struggled with her Klingon identity, when she was severely depressed, when she contemplated ending her relationship with Tom, when she lost her memories of their marriage.

Working as the Federation liaison the Klingon Empire had is perks. For one thing, she was able to access the joint Federation-Klingon communications network that spanned the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. It boosted the signal of the MIDAS Array to an asteroid colony nestled in the Delta Quadrant, where the Federation's "ambassador" sat on the receiving end.

The sight of his mottled yellow face, flanked with gray whiskers, made her smile. "Neelix."

"B'Elanna Torres."

"How are you?"

"Oh, I can't complain," he said happily. "We've just negotiated a peace treaty with a group of resettled Lokirrim. Dexa is turning out to be an artful negotiator. I never would have guessed. She used to be so hotheaded. I suppose we can't always predict what kind of people will turn out to be the best diplomats."

B'Elanna smiled wryly, knowing the comment was equally aimed at her. "Have you heard anything from the Klingon colony lately?"

Neelix shook his head. "They passed on a message to be sent to the High Council a few weeks ago, and we forwarded it along, but nothing since then." Neelix peered at the screen intently. "Was that why you contacted me, B'Elanna?"

"Actually, I was hoping for some advice." She paused, feeling slightly silly now that their conversation had actually begun. "It's about L'Naan."

"I still haven't spoken in person with her since we established this com link," Neelix reminded her. "Tom sent me a picture, though. She looks just like you."

"Thanks, I think."

Neelix nodded. "It's a compliment. What kind of problem are you having with her?"

"I don't have a problem with her," B'Elanna said earnestly. "She's a great person. She works hard at school, she does her chores, she's respectful – I would think she was switched at birth if Tom hadn't been the one who delivered her." She took a breath. "Neelix, do you remember that teenage Q who turned up a few months before you left Voyager?"

Neelix frowned and squinted, as though trying to remember. B'Elanna couldn't blame him. There had been so many missions, so many alien cultures, so many strange things that had happened on Voyager, and it was, after all, so very long in the past. She retraced the events, trying to jog his memory, and realized how absurd the whole situation sounded.

But it had actually happened, and Neelix began to remember. "His father was the one who wanted to mate with Captain Janeway."

"Yes," B'Elanna said empathetically.

Although Neelix had been informed of Andrew Kim's entrance into Starfleet, the exact chain of events didn't make a lot of sense to him. He wondered if perhaps the light-years between him and his old friends was too great a divide. But as B'Elanna gave him a brief run-down of Q's big proclamation at the graduation party, things began to make a little more sense. Q had sent Harry back in time before the joint Federation-Klingon transgalactic com link was established, so the only life Neelix remembered was the one in which Andrew didn't exist – or at least, didn't exist until a few years earlier.

"So Q is responsible for Andrew's birth," Neelix pieced together, squinting slightly.

B'Elanna nodded. "As he explains it, the reason was so that Andrew could marry Miral. He claims it has something to do with the continuation of life as we know it."

"That sounds serious."

"And he's asked L'Naan to help him save his species."

"Oh my."

San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, Xenobiology Research Lab

Miral knew she technically wasn't supposed to have unrestricted access to the lab now that she had graduated, but her access code hadn't yet been purged from the system. She knew the xenobiology research files contained more information on the specifics of individual species than the general library computers, and if she was going to help her sister, she'd need whatever she could find. She only hoped that any other student researchers in the lab would understand and not report her unauthorized presence.

As it turned out, Miral needn't have worried about other students. Professor Rossi, her advisor and mentor, was working at the central console with a stack of specimens when Miral entered.

"Ensign, what are you doing here?" she asked as Miral slowly entered the lab. "Your research has concluded. And, if I'm not mistaken, you've graduated."

"I know, Professor," Miral said. "My access code still works, and I was hoping to get some information."

"Information you can't get on your assignment?"

"I'm not scheduled to report for duty yet," Miral explained.

"And the general library computers…?"

"Don't have what I'm looking for." Miral took a breath. "Professor Rossi, I need access to all the research we have on the species called the Q. And I can't tell you why."

Rossi sized up her former student researcher for a moment. Miral Paris had worked with her for the past three years, and, apart from a computer core crash she had somehow caused and then fixed – Rossi still wasn't sure she wanted to hear the whole story – she'd been an exemplary scientist and cadet. She slowly nodded her permission.

"Thank you."

As Miral made her way to her old work station, she heard the professor utter, "The Q?" But fortunately she didn't ask for any answers.

Indiana, Bloomington, Janeway Residence

L'Naan placed her hand on the akoonah and closed her eyes. "A-koo-chee-moya, we are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers."

When she opened her eyes, she was sitting under the only tree she could see for kilometers. The sky above was turbulent and gray, and long grasses rippled in the wind. In the distance she could see the edge of a lake, its wavy surface shining black under the dark sky. L'Naan turned to look over her shoulder and saw a city rising behind her. Its architecture, with its domes and towers, was unmistakable.

Lake of Lusor. My first visit to Qo'noS.

Chakotay had explained that the place she saw would have special meaning to her. L'Naan had anticipated his farm in Indiana, or her grandfather's home on Lake Como, maybe even the Enterprise – it never occurred to her that she would be looking at Klingon land.

What's so special about this place?

On her first visit to the Klingon homeworld, her older cousins had fooled her into accepting a challenge for battle to prove her honor. Once satisfied that she was worthy, they had taken her to the lake for the afternoon. The weather had turned suddenly, though, spoiling their afternoon plans. The sky had looked much as it did now.

Chakotay had also explained that her animal guide would be the first animal she saw. As the rippling grasses parted slightly, a speckled targ came running out toward her. L'Naan giggled; it wasn't at all the animal guide she expected.

"Are you really my animal guide?" The targ didn't answer. "I'm trying to figure out if I should help the Q. Everyone tells me it's a trick. Can you tell me what to do?" It snorted slightly and trotted away.

L'Naan opened her eyes in frustration.

Kim Family Residence

At the designated meeting time, Miral and L'Naan turned up on the Kims' doorstep to discuss their findings with Andrew. Miral, claiming her place as a soon-to-be member of their family, opened the door without knocking. She and L'Naan stepped inside as Libby came out to see who had entered.

"Hello, love," Libby greeted with a warm kiss on Miral's forehead.

"Hiya," Miral said in return. She jerked her thumb behind her. "I brought company."

"Hi, Libby," L'Naan said, entering behind her sister.

"Hello, sweetheart," Libby said, putting an arm around her and leading her inside. "You haven't been over here in…how many months?"

"Mom," Andrew told her, emerging from his bedroom, "they're not here to hang out. We're working on the Q thing."

Giving L'Naan's shoulder a little rub, Libby declared, "In that case, I'll leave you alone to talk. Do you want me to make you some lunch? Why don't you use your father's office? I'll bring your food in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Libby," Miral called as they headed into another room. For good measure, she added, "Love you!"

"Okay," Andrew declared as they settled in Harry's office. "Let's get started. Miral, what did you learn from the xenobiology research files?"

"Why are you taking charge?" Miral asked him.

"Because I'm the highest ranking officer."

"No, you're not. We were both made ensigns on the same day."

"You're on the science track; I'm in operations. I outrank you."

"The future of humanity is at stake," L'Naan reminded them. "Can we just start talking without establishing a chain of command?"

"Fine." Miral activated a padd containing her notes. "We know from Mom and Dad that the Q commonly turn up without invitation, wreaking havoc on people. Usually the people don't know it. Three Starfleet captains recorded official encounters – first Picard, then Admiral Janeway, and Ch'Tal logged an incident while on a mission in the Gamma Quadrant."

"I know all this," L'Naan said testily.

"I'm briefing Andrew," her sister replied.

"You're in good company, L'Naan," Andrew noted. "All those captains are celebrated heroes."

"Anyway," Miral continued with slight annoyance at the interruption, "we have little on them biologically. No one's seen their native corporeal form. We don't even know if they have corporeal forms. No epidemiology, no information available on life expectancy, reproduction, or habitat." She looked at her sister. "You could be putting yourself in serious danger."

"I doubt it," L'Naan said. "They wouldn't put me at risk if they need me."

"Do you know how they want you to help them?" Andrew asked.

"Are they asking you to sexually reproduce?" Miral asked more directly.

Andrew turned to look at her. "Do the Q even have gender?" Miral shrugged faintly.

L'Naan sighed. "I don't know the answers to any of those questions. Charlie hasn't explained yet. Admiral Janeway said that when Charlie was conceived, his parents just touched fingers. Of course, I don't have Q powers, so I don't know if that would work. But maybe if I live in the Continuum like Charlie wants me to –"

"Let's talk about you living among them," Miral interrupted. "Where? How?"

"I don't know, Miral," L'Naan said snippily. "They didn't tell me."

Miral set the padd down on Harry's desk. "Little sister, I'm a xenobiologist. You tell me an alien entity wants to reproduce with you, and I'm going to start asking you questions about fertilization, gestation – and you don't know any of it. You want to live among them? You'll need to know if there's a food source and a breathable atmosphere."

"They're Q, Miral. I don't think any of that stuff matters."

"But you are human and Klingon," Miral reminded her.

L'Naan looked back and forth from Miral and Andrew, both in their fresh Starfleet uniforms. She scoffed. "You know what I think? I think you're coming up with all these possible obstacles because you're jealous."

"Why would I be jealous?" her sister demanded.

"Because you like to pretend that you don't care about the myth surrounding your birth, but you do. You like being special. And now I'm special, too. And you can't stand it."

Miral's eyes met Andrew's, and they shared a moment of understanding. This has gone to her head. But Miral recognized that Andrew was silently encouraging her to be nice.

"I'm not jealous, little sister," she said patiently. "I just want to help you make a good decision."