Chapter 11

2367 Maxia

"All set Data?" Wesley's words were spelled out in green on Data's wristband communicator. Out of habit, Data nodded, but of course, with no helmet on he couldn't respond verbally and be heard in the vacuum of space. So he hit a key on the communicator, signaling that he was finished setting the twelve concussive charges. He looked upward at the vast underside of the asteroid checking his work again. He had carefully but quickly placed the charges, as Geordi deftly maneuvered the runabout with Data standing upright out of a hatch at the top of the ship's hull.

Signaling Wesley again, he was slowly lowered back down through the hatchway. It closed over him and there was a long hiss as the inner chamber pressurized. "Re-pressurization and decontamination sequence complete," said the computer pleasantly after a few seconds.

Data moved through the inner hatch quickly as it opened, and he rejoined the others. He nodded at Wesley, who clapped him on the shoulder as Data returned to his navigator seat. Geordi craned his neck back at Wesley. "Deploy the ion burst out of our tail now, Wes. That should give them an idea where we've been hiding. As soon as they close to an uncomfortable distance we'll pull away and blow the charges."

Wesley's face was taut with concentration as he bent over his science station and typed in code quickly. "Deploying the ion tracer…now." He stepped away and sat back down next to his mother, pulling his safety harness back down over his torso, as she reached for his hand.

"They've seen us," Deanna said tensely as they watched the screen at the center table together. She gripped the sides of the table already bracing for the inevitable impact of Ferengi disruptors again.

The Ferengi ship dipped just below the bottom of the asteroid. Geordi hit the thrusters just enough for the Ferengi to decide to follow them, and when the alien ship slid underneath the giant rock in pursuit, Geordi threw the ship into half impulse. "Now, Data," he yelled.

Data detonated the charges and a cloud of rock and debris blew into the front of Bok's ship.

An outline of the Ferengi ship glowed flashing red on Data's screen. "The Ferengi lowered their deflector shield frequency when we disappeared…and they have sustained unexpected damage to their hull as a result of Geordi's diversionary tactic," he reported.

Geordi swung the runabout around and headed back in the direction of the Ferengi ship, letting off a volley of phaser fire, but as Bok's ship emerged from the cloud of asteroid debris, it fired a plasma torpedo which struck the runabout it its left nacelle.

"Shit," Geordi declared, as the ship began to careen to the right. Another shot from the Ferengi's disruptor bank sent the runabout spinning out of control.

Beverly closed her eyes tightly, unable to focus on anything as everything spun around them sickeningly. "Jean-Luc," she whispered clutching her abdomen with one hand and Wesley's hand in the other. There was another round of thundering explosions and then she felt the tingling embrace of a transporter beam.

The Aldrin

"Fire!"

"Firing torpedoes and phasers, Captain," Lieutenant Kashirin reported from tactical. "Direct hits sir….Sir the Ferengi ship is disabled. They are making no move to retreat…sir they are signaling their surrender! And… they are offering to hand over Daimon Bok to our custody in exchange for 'two million bars of gold pressed latinum, to be paid upon delivery'," she finished reading the message with an air of confusion.

"Why am I not surprised?" Commander Obi murmured shaking his head.

Captain William T. Riker walked up behind Lt. Commander Meeta at ops. "Do we have the crew of the runabout?"

"Yes, sir," Meeta said with a smile, and the breathing through her respirator sounded notably relieved. "They are safely aboard and in transporter room one."

"Beam them directly to sickbay. Obi, you're with me," he said finally able to let himself smile, as they headed for the turbolift.

Daimon Bok ran through the corridors of his ship, ignoring the panicked screams of his crew, along with a few death threats. He skidded to stop outside of the room, looked around him quickly and then stepped into his quarters. The time travel device stood by his bedside. To the ordinary onlooker who would never expect to see a time travel device in a bedroom, it appeared merely to be a stone pedestal about three feet high.

Breathing quickly, Bok checked his belt for his disruptor and other important items, before hitting the side of the pedestal. Picard must never win. A blue beam of light shot up out of the top of the pedestal, Bok grabbed both sides of it. He screamed as though he had reason to know this would be unpleasant; thrust his head into the beam and then disappeared.

Slowly, slowly the runabout spun over and over, its occupants having transported away just in time. "Incoming recorded message, subspace channel 001," the computer announced, unaware that it was now alone.

The static-filled image of Jean-Luc Picard appeared on the screen mounted on the runabout's center table. "At the risk of someone else seeing this message, Beverly, I decided to record this one and send it in a continuous loop, since I simply cannot rely on the communications system in this piece of space junk. But good news, Beverly…we're operational now. So I wanted to tell you, that I will be on my way to find you soon. It will take me several days in the saucer section with only impulse power, but I will reach you as soon as I can." He smiled and then folded his hands in front of him pensively.

"I mentioned to you before that I was experiencing some discomfort and disorientation. I have now come to believe that the timeline has not yet been corrected, and that this is why I have begun to phase out of existence again. Worf prevailed on me to tell you, and I am glad he did. By the time you will have received this message, perhaps you will have realized that the timeline is not quite right. It may even be that I don't belong here. But I beg you…plead with you really-please do not try and correct anything on your own. If time needs to be rectified, let's talk it through together first and come up with a plan. Should our baby be affected by or even be the result of the changed timeline-well we must do what we can to protect her or him. Now please be safe, and while you are at it, please tell Mr. Data that his cat has returned and is testing the limits of Worf's compassion, which has also convinced me that I rather like cats. Goodbye for now, my love.