Chapter 55


As Beverly Crusher walked slowly toward the main viewer on the bridge she felt as though all the color had gone out of her surroundings and the air had exited her lungs forever. But then as she looked up at the screen which had now gone black, she took another breath in. She was still alive, and she had to keep on living for Wesley.

He turned and looked at her and the tears in his eyes simply broke her heart. "Mom?"

He wanted her to make everything alright, but for once, it was impossible for her to do so. So she took his hand and said nothing.

The heavy silence on the bridge continued until the beeping from tactical made Riker turn around. He felt like he was underwater, and he struggled to take a proper breath and steady himself. He thought of Picard in that moment and realized he had just lost a good friend. Dazed, he stared at Lt. Diaz expectantly. Poor Diaz; he would see to it that she received a promotion if they ever made it through this.

He fixed his gaze on the forward view screen, and almost fell over. An unmistakable blue and white planet floated in the center of the screen.

"Status!"

"We're...Captain, we are in orbit around Earth. And we're being hailed...its Starfleet Command," she reported in shock.

Yar? "On screen," he said flatly.

Never before and never again would he see Vice Admiral Nechayev with the expression she wore right then. "Riker, what happened? What did you do?" She appeared both elated and confused at the same time. Exhaustion was etched in her sharp features.

Riker rubbed his jaw, feeling just as confused himself. "…do? Admiral, what do you mean?"

"The Borg ships surrounding this planet just disappeared, Riker...around the time the Enterprise reappeared. And my…my assistant who I saw die in front of me yesterday…he's alive. Thousands of people have reported in Riker, and they say…they say their missing family members just showed up on their doorsteps. People who were confirmed killed by the Borg on the attacks down here have seemingly been resurrected as well."

Riker's jaw dropped. "What?"

"The damage to the physical structures we've built has been nearly catastrophic, Riker. But structures and ships can be rebuilt. The environmental harm they caused can be healed with our help. All we know here on Earth is that something very miraculous has just happened, and there are no more Borg sightings confirmed in this quadrant."

Riker turned to Beverly and began to laugh. "Picard…my goodness…he did it after all. He did it!"

Beverly's lips were trembling to the extent that her words hardly exited her mouth in a coherent sentence. "If he did it, then where is he? Why isn't he here?" She wrapped her lab coat around herself tightly. She was glad Riker could celebrate, but even a victory over the evil they had just seen seemed hollow; it meant nothing to her if he was not there to share in the victory.


Thirteen Years Before on Turkana IV…

These were sensations he had not felt in years. The feel and smell of wet grass on a warm summer night, just as dusk was settling in. He opened his eyes and breathed in. It felt wonderful, and there was no pain. He reached up and felt his face. It was fine, and his head didn't hurt either. Amazing. He blinked a few times quickly. Suddenly he heard an approaching ship and a feeling of fear shot through him. Scrambling to his feet, he ran for some underbrush and dove in, finding a quick hiding place.

Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a brief burst of white light hovering near the ground, but then it disappeared. He squinted as the bright red landing lights of the shuttle burst into view, and a furious wind began to kick up as the shuttle began to taxi in for landing.

Lieutenant Gilda Stern and her partner Ensign John Sorensen stepped out of the shuttle cautiously. Her communicator chirped at her. "Stern," came the pilot's voice, sounding both annoyed and worried. "Things are heating up downtown. We're about to be very vulnerable any minute now," he warned.

"I know, I know," said Stern. What a shitty assignment. This place was a dump, and full of murderers, rapists and mayhem. How anyone could be expected to survive, she had no idea. She brushed her short sweat-soaked hair back, and checked her phaser, setting it to stun.

Sorensen pointed off to the east. "I saw one run over there. Couldn't tell if they were armed or not," he said.

Stern nodded. "Let's move out," she said, moving quickly away from the shuttle.

The two officers ran quickly, hoping to beat the fading light. But soon they had lost their target, and after circling the area twice, the only company they had was that of peeping frogs, and tiny biting gnats.

"Wow, this is the life," Sorensen remarked, slapping his neck too late to catch some kind of biting insect. "Think I can get a permanent assignment on this tiny piece of paradise?"

"Shh!" Stern thought she heard something in the bushes nearby. She straightened. It had been nothing. "Just be glad you don't have to live here permanently," she scolded him.

"Home sweet home," he muttered.

Not listening to her sullen subordinate, Lieutenant Stern crouched down and then pointed into the darkness. "Over there. Let's go."

Sorensen followed without a word, realizing Stern was now all business. An exacting personality, an intimidating commanding officer, a fastidious dresser both on and off duty. Her short hair was never out of place. Everything about her was sharp and to the point. She was to be admired, and everyone he knew did admire her. Even the worst assignments she was given, she performed without complaint—at least outwardly. And at least in Sorensen's young career, this was one of the worst assignments.

Phasers held at the ready, they crept toward the asymmetrical shape, barely visible in the fading light.

"My name is Lieutenant Gilda Stern…I am a Starfleet Officer. This is my partner Ensign Sorensen, and we are here to help you," she called out, turning her headlamp on. Sorensen did the same. There was a scampering noise, as the dirty shed was now illuminated. The size of the now visible insects was slightly alarming, but Stern waved her free arm around to clear the way in front of her as she stepped carefully through the marshy ground toward the shed. She paused. "I think it was a human girl. Let me go in first," she said to Sorensen. He shrugged.

"We're with the United Federation of Planets," Stern called out. "Martial law has been declared, and we are here to ensure that anyone who wants to leave this planet has safe passage."

Inside the makeshift shelter, the girl sat crouched with her knife hanging loosely down. Her eyes were focused on the entrance to her tiny hut, but her hand lazily drew swirling lines and figure eights on the sandy floor with the point of the sharp knife. When they came in, she would kill them. It was that simple. The perverts had been chasing her all evening, and now that they were outside her house, she wasn't going to fall for some story about starships and federations. Did they think she would be tricked by a woman's voice? Women could be evil too. She had experienced that first hand. She would not be fooled.

Oh, how she had wanted to see it tonight. And they had ruined it for her. The bright star. Now how would she see its light? It was the only thing that comforted her, and now they were here, preventing her from her comfort. She waited, but they wouldn't leave, and after a while she began to wonder if there was really was such a thing as Starfleet, and a way off Turkana.

Years later she would look back and ponder the exact moment she turned; when she dared to trust for the first time. Maybe she would not remember the exact moment, but she would remember that it happened that night. Perhaps it had been seeing Gilda's distinctive silhouette for the first time leaning in to her doorway. Gilda who took her in and cared for her like a big sister, and taught her to feel affection for the first time in at least ten years. Gilda, who inspired her to enter Starfleet and to make something of herself.

All those years ago, the Jean-Luc Picard of the future watched from a secluded area, as a skinny teenage girl, walked willingly with her new protectors toward the safety of a waiting shuttle. After a few moments, the engines powered up with a burst and the shuttle lifted off and was away quickly. He covered his mouth, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the moment. Somehow, he had known what to do. But had it worked?


"You did well, Jean-Luc," the voice said gently. He turned from his crouching position to find Q standing behind him.

"Did it work?"

"You mean did you stop Yar from being kidnapped by the Q? Did you prevent her from empowering the Borg to destroy all of humanity? Did you prevent the destruction of Earth? Did you send the Borg back into the Delta Quadrant without their peculiar fascination with human beings? Did you restore balance to the Q Continuum? Yes…you accomplished all of those things. But don't let it go to your head. You are still an incredibly flawed man."

"But I tampered with the past," Picard said. "We were always told that is the risk of time travel—affecting the future. How can I know for sure…."

"That what you've done won't affect time as we just knew it minutes ago? I suppose we'll see, won't we?"

Picard nodded, and stood up. He ran his hands over his chest carefully. "I'm healed…did you do that? I thought I was dead, frankly."

"I was on the bridge of your ship-"

"The Enterprise?"

"Yes, I said your ship…."

"Q, the Enterprise is Jack's ship," Picard insisted.

Q smiled. "Hmm…right, for now, I suppose."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Q waved an annoyed hand in his face. "Silence, Picard! Please, I am trying to tell you…I was on the bridge of Jack's ship, when I saw Yar stick her hand into your chest, and it was at that moment I perceived what you were going to do. And as soon as you set the idea in motion, the Understanding became clear again. The Q were restored. So yes, I healed you. After all you had gone through I thought it only fair that you live to see the effects of your decision."

Picard stared at him and broke into a slow smile. "I am not sure whether I should be thanking you, or you should be thanking me…."

Q sighed with a shrug. "The best solution is for neither of us to say anything, Picard. Now, are you ready to go home to the future?"

He smiled widely at that. "Oh, yes."