The being known as the Traveler stared thoughtfully at his pupil, measuring him against standards which, to any normal human male the man's age, would have been not only unattainable, but unthought of. This was no ordinary man, however. This was a man of destiny, of that he was most certain. The teacher had hand selected him, at his birth, to travel the galaxy by his side, bringing order to chaos. At last they were together.

He had potential and natural talent. But he also had drive. He wanted to succeed. He wanted to understand. The Traveler had visited many places and times. He knew that will overcame weakness, and that attitude was far more desirable than aptitude. His pupil had many choices to make during his journey, but the teacher had faith in the steadfast nature of the man. He was certain that of all the infinite choices reality had to offer, the man would choose the one with the most potential. He would savor it and make it his destiny. The Traveler smiled a smile wrought with deep, profound thought. He knew what was to come, and was satisfied. It would be magnificent.

For now, though, he returned his mind to the present, where the man was waiting. He sat down across the visionary fire from him, and locked his soulful eyes into Wesley Crusher's inquisitive ones.

"I have a journey for you." He spoke with such rhythm and cadence that it was impossible to be impervious to his orations. Wesley leaned forward eagerly, almost boyish in his excitement. "You have learned many things," the teacher continued, "things which you will need to complete this task." Wesley's excitement grew. Somehow, he knew, this time would be different. "You have proven your ability to me. Now you must prove it to yourself. Do not forget your character, or the ultimate purpose of our mission. Go now. I bid you good fortune." With that the teacher rose, leaving Wesley alone to stare into the crackling flames. What he saw frightened him.

"Mom," he whispered softly, cradling his head in his hands.

* * * * *

Beverly Crusher sat in the shade of a giant boulder, sweat curling long tendrils of her red hair against her face. She looked on in boredom as her comrade, Captain Jean Luc Picard picked through heaps of pottery shards and torn scriptures with the fervor of a man possessed. His eyes glittered with intensity as he scanned the piles before him. Beverly wondered why she had allowed herself to be talked into this ridiculous excursion.

The Enterprise was in dry dock for the next few weeks as maintenance was performed on her. Picard, seizing the opportunity to study the archeological wonders of nearby Torpid VI, had somehow managed to persuade his Chief Medical Officer to join him, enthralling her with the rapture of ancient jewelry and buried cities. Beverly, though she had tried mightily, had been unable to catch his enthusiasm following their arrival and her sense of humor had all but disappeared as the heat became stifling and the only things they discovered were pottery shards.

She stood up and brushed herself off, about to suggest that they call it a day and head back to the base for a nice evening of dinner, drinks, and conversation when something caught her eye. She walked toward the glittering spot, and found herself brushing off a dusty old gilt mirror that had been half hidden beneath the silt of time. She traced her fingers over the obscure scripture, certain that Picard would be able to decipher it.

There was something odd about the mirror. She gazed into it suspiciously. Something was different. It was the eyes. Her eyes. Eyes were the mirrors of the soul, constantly changing and recoalescing as life marched on brandishing its sword. These were not Beverly Crusher's eyes. These were eyes from another a place and time where things were different. She shook her head, slightly unnerved by her ridiculous notions. Obviously the heat was getting to her, and the impending sunset was causing the light to play tricks with the mirrors surface. Still, these rationalizations did nothing to warm the chill inside of her.

"Jean Luc," she called, "come here. I think you might be interested in this." She couldn't resist adding, "It's far more fascinating than sifting through ancient heaps of garbage."

Picard took her comment in stride and walked over to where she stood. It was beautiful. The mirror was the most fabulous discovery he had ever had on one of his archeological excursions. He wondered why no one had found it until now. Excitement belied his curiosity, however, and he pulled out his translator, anxious to reveal the secrets hidden within the scripture. He tapped the symbols in, and waited for a response.

He frowned. "How odd," he muttered aloud. The response was far from what he had expected. Objects of this kind usually were embossed with some kind of scripture or a name. This one had a cryptic riddle that, as far as the Captain could see, had nothing to do with vanity.

"What does it say?" Beverly leaned in close, reading over his shoulder. Had anyone else done that he would have been extremely annoyed. He liked it when she did, though. Her eyes scanned the readout, and then she read aloud:

I hold the keys to your future and past

Heed my warning now that your chance will not last

Answer my riddle and you will have won

A chance do things how you wish they'd been done

First is the thing that comes twice with dread

The beginning of day and the end of the end

Next is the thing folks are most often caught in

IF they would just face the truth they would not have to concoct them

Last is something in the east north and west

Its in the south too and doubled in its best

Now string them together and then tell me this:

What do you feel after a hug or a kiss?

They stared at each other for a moment. Picard was intrigued, and in his element. Beverly, however, looked dubious. The earlier discomfort she had felt upon looking in the mirror still irked her, but she did not tell her commanding officer about it. After all, her reflection having different eyes, it was a silly notion, and Beverly Crusher, for all her faults and falibilities, was not a silly woman.

Picard muttered to himself, trying to logically work out the clues. "The middle one is the easiest," he said, hoping to get her involved in the solving of this mystery. The sooner he could unravel it the better. Dark was falling upon the horizon, and if the captain was unable to finish this business before they left, he knew he would be up all night stewing over it.

"The thing people are most often caught in when they don't face the truth. That has to be a lie," he said. Beverly raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Let's see," he continued, resigning himself to the fact that she was unwilling to assist him. "Something that comes twice in dread, at the beginning of the day and at the end of the end…" He typed the words absently into the data PADD, lining them up in a column. She could almost see the cogs in his head turning as he put it together. "The letter 'D'," he exclaimed out loud.

"So now we have D lie. Hmm." He paused a moment, and Beverly put it together for him.

"Delight."

"Ah, yes. Very well then. Delight it is. Now that we've uncovered the secrets of the universe, I think its time that we…"

He never got to finish.

All around them, a blue light seemed to spread from everywhere. The ground quaked beneath their feet, and the mounds of pottery were reduced to heaps of dust and rubble. Suddenly the mirror began to change, as though it were turning to putty, melting and warping, the sides widening, and the center pulling away.

The mirror had turned into a gateway.