Earth, Alcatraz Federal Prison-1937

"Almost there," said the man up ahead. He was stocky and short, but with oversized shoulders and arms, he had made the last five feet of digging quick work. The handmade shovel and a crowbar James had stolen from the supply where he worked had allowed them to complete excavation of a very narrow tunnel 200 yards long, over the previous six months. "Chris", the man currently doing the digging was in charge. There was no need to say it, it was just the way things were, and James didn't care. As long as he made it off of this rock and back to life. This wasn't a way to live, and he would die trying to escape if need be. Chris wanted out to, and he didn't seem worried about any consequences. For the past year, he'd been trying to place the guy's face. He knew he'd seen him before Alcatraz, but James had made a career out of studying most wanted posters, and still couldn't place him.

Finally, the man squeezed himself against one side of the passage and growled, "your turn." James obliged by slipping his slenderer frame by, toward the tunnel's end. If it hadn't been the middle of the night, they might have been able to see some light peaking through. They were that close. James hunkered down and began chipping away in silence for a good ten minutes, before he paused, trying to regain some stamina. His arms were like rubber. "Can I ask you something, Chris?"

"What?"

"What did you do to get in here? Everyone says you were one of the first brought here back in '34. But you've never bragged about anything you done to be sent to the clink. Not like the other guys."

"Surprise, surprise...I'm not like the other guys," came the almost quiet reply in the dark.

"Ha." James began chipping away again. "Yah, so what'd you do?"

There was a pause. "I killed my boss."

James laughed again. "Are you fuckin' kidding me? That's it?" He turned to look at Chris again, and although it was pitch black, it suddenly came to him. "Chris...wait a minute, you're Christopher Caine?" It had been all over the radio news for months back in 1932.

"Wow, you should maybe go work for Elliot Ness when you get out of here, James. You're a genius."

"You killed Lonny Esposito, the Boss of LA, right?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

"I didn't like being second in command of the operation. Got it?"

"Yeah, but didn't you also take out his whole entire family, like twelve people...in that big mansion?"

"Must have been his extended family," said Caine.

"All in one night. Why his granny and his whole family, though?"

"They happened to be home at the time."

"But-" James had turned his head slightly but froze when he felt a razor-sharp point at his neck.

"Do you have any more questions for me?" Caine whispered. "Or are you going to finish digging us out of here?"

"Digging, digging, okay," James stammered, picking up the pace. He hadn't known about the shiv, but he should have expected Chris would have one.

It took another hour, and although it was still dark out when James poked his head out of the hole, the sky was a strange purplish-pink hue. His face was immediately wet from the ocean air, and he almost shouted from the exhilaration. As Chris had planned it, they were outside of the barbed wire wall and just yards from a hazardous and rocky descent. Two spotlights on the tall watchtowers panned back and forth, flooding the area with light every 15 seconds or so. One of the towers, they knew had a machine gun turret. As long as the guard wasn't sleeping on the job, it was just one more level of danger.

Suddenly, he was being shoved from below and his legs were pushed upward. He did a face plant, before struggling to his feet. They hadn't timed it right, and he was square in the middle of a floodlight. He ran about five yards before there was a burst of gunfire, and he was hit in the back. Even as he fell, he was aware of being lifted into the air. Caine was carrying him over his shoulders as the bullets continued to rain down.

The gun would be almost out of ammo now, and so Caine tossed James off of his shoulders as he sprinted. The man had been thin but had made a pretty solid human shield. A few bullets hit him, as he reached the grassy edge, but he couldn't hesitate to leap down onto the rocks below. The snapping sound was his ankle, and he crawled the rest of the way, hearing shouts and more gunfire as the guards finally realized what was happening. Every agonizing inch didn't matter. He was almost to the ocean. The surf was so high, that he was swept into the water, and pushed out into the darkness. The voices grew fainter, and he righted himself and began swimming with steady strokes. Sharks had been known to frequent the shores of Alcatraz, and he knew he was trailing blood. His right leg seemed useless, but he flailed it anyway. The frigid waters were unforgiving, and he was beginning to think he might die just a few hundred feet from the island. But then he saw it. At first, he thought it was a star, but it quickly descended from the night sky and hovered above the waves. It circled more slowly now, as though studying him. Was it mocking him? Enraged, he swam toward it, somehow moving despite his chilled body. The light grew so bright that he closed his eyes, and the last thing he remembered was an incredible, protective warmth.

Earth, Starfleet Headquarters

The chime rang again, and the officer finally raised her head. "Come in," she called out.

If the visitor who entered was insulted by her irritated tone, she didn't mention it. The intruder was petite and aging gracefully, but gave off an aura of power that was unmistakable. Interestingly enough, so did the officer she'd come to visit.

"Admiral Nechayev, please have a seat," the woman behind the desk said. She exuded a sense of confidence Alynna Nechayev had rarely seen, and Nechayev had seen many things in her time. "How can I help you?"

"Beautiful evening," Nechayev remarked, gesturing out at the San Francisco skyline, before sitting down with a skilfully political expression on her face. "But with your face buried in so many administrative details, I'm sure you haven't noticed, have you, Officer Stern?" It was customary to refer to the head of Starfleet Intelligence as "Officer" as once in Intel, traditional ranks were dropped. Gilda Stern, however, was military, through and through. Stern had most recently become the head of Starfleet Intelligence after a swift rise through the ranks of the Starfleet security and command division. Her foray into Intel had developed her a reputation of a highly disciplined, yet enigmatic officer. Certainly, very little of her background was known, and mystery always intrigued Nechayev.

Stern brushed her tidy, greying bangs from her eyes, and looked at Nechayev, as though to say, "let's get down to business". "How can I help you, Admiral?" she repeated.

"The rumor is that you pushed for Jean-Luc Picard's suspension from duty."

"It was you who gave the order," replied Stern, coolly. "If I'm not mistaken."

"Yes, well...I did give the order, but not quite by choice. My superiors sent it down from on high. Granted, I was very close to having him court-martialed..."

"Whether I was involved or not, what does it matter?" Stern shot back. "It was the right thing to do, and it sounds as if you agree."

"The right thing," Nechayev echoed. She pressed her lips together. "I can't remember ever hearing that phrase from an intelligence officer before."

"Not all of us are amoral, Admiral."

Nechayev broke into a crafty smile but said nothing for a few moments. "Are you familiar with Picard?"

Stern blinked. "In a way," she said flatly.

"In a way...interesting."

Stern merely looked at her, so she continued. "Picard was a legend before he was captured by the Q. He was an unparalleled talent and an even greater friend."

Stern was watching her with an interested expression but remained silent.

"Now," continued Nechayev, "his career, his very life hangs in the balance..."

"Not unlike the fate of our galaxy," Stern said with dead seriousness.

"And the fate of your daughter..."

Stern sat back as though pushed into the back of her chair. "My daughter? Surely you don't mean Tasha Yar..."

"You adopted her, did you not, after rescuing her from Turkana?"

"I never officially adopted her. Lieutenant Yar is not my daughter, Admiral." Something glinted in the woman's eyes that Nechayev, with all of her gravity, found unsettling. For the first time during their conversation, she felt unmatched, but couldn't put her finger on just why.

"But I'm assuming that you care for her, care about her. She's out there somewhere in Orion territory...perhaps even further. Are you aware that all transmissions from the Enterprise ceased eleven days ago?"

"Apparently we are both aware of this classified information, so, yes..."

"As Tasha Yar's mentor and only known family...officially nor not, I would expect that you would be concerned. Of course, being an intel officer, perhaps showing concern is not your forte." She watched as Gilda Stern's eyes grew clouded, but the underlying emotion was unclear.

"Tasha is very special," Stern said finally, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

The Admiral clasped her hands together and met the woman's gaze. "Agreed."

Stern clenched her jaw and seemed to regain her poise. "Admiral is there something specific that I can help you with?"

"Well, aside from wanting to know whether you personally pushed for Picard to lose his command-a question which you have not directly answered, in addition, I want to thank you."

Stern was clearly surprised by this and sat back in her chair. "For what?"

"There is a second rumor...that you are discouraging certain elements in our midst from turning Picard over for experimentation."

"As humans, what we don't understand, we often fear," Stern said, and the way she said the word 'humans' gave Nechayev pause for some reason. "I don't agree with some of the fear-mongering, or the whispers about how Picard should be locked up, away from the rest of humanity."

"You mean the way the Q locked him up and experimented on him for eleven damn years?" Nechayev held the woman's gaze.

"Yes," Stern said eventually. There was nothing in her tone to give away any emotion. Nothing at all.

"So, you don't think the Q power is one we should investigate further?"

"To what end?"

"To what end are they investigating us? As much as I love my friend, the...physiological and psychological effects of his eleven-year captivity have never been thoroughly studied."

"Despite my efforts to protect him, it sounds as though you are advocating for studying Picard...presumably with his consent, given your long-standing friendship."

Nechayev smiled carefully. "As head of Intel, Stern, I thought you might be interested in weaponizing such a power."

"Well...I'm not," said Stern coldly. "Not in the slightest."

Admiral Nechayev paused before getting to her feet with a curt nod. "Thank you, Officer Stern. This has been a most illuminating conversation." She walked swiftly from the office.

Had Nechayev stayed a moment longer, she would have seen Gilda Stern's dark brown eyes flash the brightest white, just for an instant.

The Continuum

"Your actions were highly reckless. Our decision is final."

Q's light floated above a white expanse. Surrounding him were the overbearing and sanctimonious lights of his peers.

"Our decision stands. Caine was our first human encounter-"

"Not that Yar or Picard were ever permitted to be aware of this fact."

"Had they been, their reaction would have caused more trouble than even you could anticipate, Q."

"I wasn't the one who captured Caine for biological study in the first place. I'm sure you'd agree that in retrospect he wasn't exactly the best choice..."

"That is why we wiped his brain and sent him on his way over one hundred Earth years ago. Whatever possessed you to find him again and bring him to the 24th century?"

Q felt crowded as a multitude of powerful minds tried to squeeze the information from him. Under normal circumstances, he could have been resistant to the questions of even other Q. But this inquisition had him on the defensive, and now they could read him fully.

"Ah...you hoped he would kill Yar when she was a child...is that correct? Even as Picard tried to revive Yar without interference from the Continuum, you plotted to have her killed.

"Does it matter anymore? Caine clearly wasn't up to the job."

"Explain how you kept your interaction with Caine a secret from us."

"Jealous? Jealous that I was able to deceive the undeceivable?

"We are above jealousy, you should know that, Q."

"So you say..."

"You simply do not have the right to expel me from the Continuum," he argued. "I completely understand why you don't want Picard back, after all the mistakes he's made-"

"Perhaps. But too many rules have been broken by you, Q. Your... tampering with the human Caine cannot be condoned, no matter your intentions. You injected Caine with a sentient virophage! The results of that choice may end in our collective demise."

"It was an imperfect solution for an imperfect problem. A virus that eats other viruses...I thought it quite clever. You should be thanking me...without Caine, there would be no chance to stop this virus and Yar from wreaking havoc on the Continuum again. With Caine's presence, the virus will be destroyed. Without the virus to join her, Yar's prophecy cannot be manifested and she can be defeated."

"That remains to be seen."

"Then I hope you are all watching when I'm proven correct."

"Foolish-"

"At least I had an idea!" Q suddenly screamed into the sea of white. "None of you ever think of anything new...what have you done to address Yar's latest attempts to destroy us? Nothing!"

"You must calm yourself, Q. You have been spending too much of your time amongst humanity. As we feared, you have become just like an alien."

"Insulting..."

"Back to our concerns about Caine. He is obsessed with power."

"Who isn't these days?"

"Your sense of humor is ill-placed, Q."

"He doesn't know his history with the Q. His mind was wiped, or perhaps one of you didn't completely clear Caine's mind of his abduction experiences...again, not my fault," protested Q.

"Caine, assuming he survives his time on our homeworld, will be dealt with accordingly."

"Meaning what?"

"As you know, our grasp on the Power is not what it was before Yar. However, we have an operative, whose purpose it is to find him and destroy him."

"An operative? Is that what she's calling herself these days? This is laughable."

"Again, we fail to see the humor. Our contact with humanity must not be our undoing. Caine will be dispatched with before he is able to harm us."

"My plan will work, you'll see. And then you'll be sorry to have thrown me out."

"Whether Yar is defeated this time or not, it may not matter to the Q. Our connection to the Power has been severely damaged, possibly beyond repair."

"And what do you see is the solution to this debacle?"

"Without the Power, we would be wise to retreat until we can regroup and evolve further without involvement in the affairs of this universe."

"And abandon our official duties?"

"Yes."

"That could result in an intergalactic catastrophe."

"We know."