Yay! I like reviews! Thanks, everyone, for all your suggestions and comments. I will be finished in a few more chapters... we're getting into parts now that I haven't actually written yet, as I did the previous chapters; I've only mapped them out, so please forgive if it is a little rough.
Catspaw
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Reed stared up at the ceiling of the tent, watching the shadows of the clouds move across it in the deepening evening sunlight. Dead...all dead...two hundred bloody years! kept running through his mind. How on earth...was that even a proper expression anymore?...how on earth had he ended up in 2374?
He could hear the two Picards talking outside, in low voices: the father was telling his son the situation. Jean-Luc's deep voice lifted and fell, but he could not catch individual words. Why couldn't his father have been like that, Reed wondered, strong and kind and obviously caring? He sighed softly.
It was a moot point, since he would never see his father again.
Their voices died away as the two men walked away from the tent. Reed sighed again. Rest time, T'Miya had told him firmly, but he couldn't sleep. His eyes fell on the computer interface, sitting on the table, and he went to look at the files about the ill-fated Enterprise once more. There wasn't even a proper mention in the history books (although since both Henri and Jean-Luc had reminded him this was a Vulcan database, there probably wouldn't be). The article described only the conditions of their demise, as well as including a list of the officers who had served aboard Enterprise. No mention of their accomplishments or even mistakes was included. Funny, Reed thought, he would have expected the Vulcans to at least tell their descendants who was responsible for the destruction of the monastery at P'Jem. They'd certainly made enough of a fuss in his own time.
On a whim, he found the search buttons that Henri had shown him and told the computer to look for "Time Travel."
"The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible," was the cold answer from the computer.
"Fine," said Reed. "What about the Cabal, then? How do they do it?"
"Please restate your query."
He turned away, exasperated. Living proof of time travel, he was, and yet time travel was impossible. As Trip would have said, "That's just plumb unfair." Thinking of his friend, blown into a million pieces only a few lightyears from here, his hands trembled. Unfair? A bloody understatement. In anger he turned from the table and tripped headlong over the low cot, sending both it and himself sprawling across the floor.
He lay there for a moment, tangled in the sheet, and tried to figure out just what it was that was poking him in the back. Reed let out his breath in a huff and turned over.
"What on earth is this?" he growled, ripping the sheets away and pulling the object out from under him.
And stared at it. Crewman Daniels' device (or whoever's it had been) looked much the worse for wear. Dust covered the delicate gray controls, and it looked as though someone had stepped on it.
This thing had to be what had brought him two hundred years into the future. He fiddled with the controls again, hoping his dumb luck would hold. He swore when the holographic display popped up. "Now you work!" he told it fiercely.
Wait, thought Reed suddenly, was that Enterprise?
He examined the files carefully, chills going up and down his spine, and then sat down on the righted cot, waiting for Jean-Luc Picard to return.
* * * * *
"What do we do with a time traveler that's stuck here?" asked Henri. "Can that temporal resequencer send him back?"
Picard looked out over the hilly desert, into the purple and orange sunset. They stood on a bluff about a kilometer past the dig site. A narrow river wended its way through the dust below, faint spots of green visible along the banks.
The memories of his alter ego, the erstwhile starship captain, had begun to fade since he'd talked to Reed after the man woke up. Though he did not know how to explain the science behind the phenomenon, he suspected the memories had been awakened by his encounter with the man who was the touchstone between the two possible futures. And now that it did not appear likely that Reed would be able to travel back, one future was fading. He smiled at his son and ruffled his hair.
"I'll send him with you when you go back to the Vulcan Science Academy," said Picard. "I'm sure the Vulcans will be quite happy to have proof that time travel is not impossible. They'll stop insisting that the Cabal doesn't do anything like that, hopefully."
Henri smiled at that, and then abruptly sobered. "Then maybe they'd actually do something about the Cabal for once, instead of just letting them run rampant over any planet or ship or person that comes in their way."
Jean-Luc put his arm around his son's shoulder. "I know, Henri."
"Mom didn't deserve that," said Henri softly.
"Neither did anyone else on that ship."
"I know. But it's still unfair."
"Come on," said Jean-Luc, giving his son a hug and then turning back towards
camp. "It's getting dark. Mr. Reed will be awake again by now." They tromped
back together, son matching father stride for stride. This is how it should
be, thought Picard. Him by my side, always. This is how it should be.
Yet the moment passed all too quickly. The tops of the tents glowed in the dusk; shadows moved across the sides like Japanese puppets. Picard sent his son in the direction of the canteen and went inside their own dark tent.
"Computer, half light," he said softly, not wanting to wake Reed up.
The lieutenant, however, was sitting stiffly on the cot, glaring at him, the temporal resequencer in his lap. Picard stopped.
"They didn't die, did they?" said Reed fiercely. "I saved them. And this isn't the right future, here."
"Time travel is impossible-" started Picard, half-choking on the words.
"Don't give me that," Reed interrupted. "I'm here, aren't I? There is a way to get back. This device brought me here, and it can bring me back. I can save my ship. I know when they all die, now, and it is definitely not in 2152. For anyone. No one on Enterprise dies that year."
Jean-Luc felt the captain's memories come rushing back into his mind.
"No. You will not take him away from me," said Picard, and with a sudden swift movement he crossed the room and snatched the temporal resequencer from the startled lieutenant's hands. Reed leapt to his feet.
"Please!" he cried, and grabbed for the device.
Picard threw the resequencer to the ground and jumped on it. To his disappointment nothing happened. Obviously the designer had made the device quite strong. Reed shoved him away from it, and Picard tumbled to the ground. He looked up to see a trowel, pointed metal end glittering in the dim light, aimed directly at his throat.
"Now, I want to know what kind of Suliban trick this is," said Reed. "Who wanted the Enterprise destroyed? Who are you, really?"
"Jean-Luc Picard." The trowel shook in front of his eyes, and he closed them. "In this future I am only an archaeologist, not even that reputable. In the other, I am a starship captain. Captain of an Enterprise. A descendant of your own ship, in truth."
Reed sighed. "Why, then, don't you want me to put it to rights? Surely the life of a starship captain is better than this."
Picard only had to say one word. "Henri," he muttered, and a tear slid slowly through the dust on his face. Reed dropped the trowel and sank to his knees.
"It seems that we are both in a rather uncomfortable position," he began. A tremor shook the ground at that moment. Both of them were hurled to the ground, the tent collapsing on top of them.
More explosions rocked the camp, and they struggled out of the canvas. Picard spotted two ships flying overhead, through the dust, and coughing, began to run toward the replicator tent. Reed followed, clinging tight to the temporal resequencer, wiping his eyes.
"Oh, bloody hell," he said as they reached the tent. Bodies lay everywhere, scattered among plates and cups and silverware. Picard let out a strangled cry and rushed to one.
He cradled his son in his arms and let the tears fall, stinging his dusty eyes. Reed stood behind him, silent, and looked for any more survivors.
They heard voices suddenly, off in the distance. "The rogue temporal signature is still here," said one, quite clearly. "Check over that way."
Picard looked up at him. "Give me that thing," he said roughly. Reed handed it over without a complaint. The man tapped at the controls and suddenly a glimmering portal of light shone forth from the machine.
"Go back," said Picard roughly. "Go back and save them. Maybe one of us can sleep happily this night."
"Look! What's that?" cried the voices, nearer now. The sound of pounding footsteps could be heard through the dust and darkness. Reed did not hesitate: he grabbed the device and launched himself into the portal.
Picard bent his head over the body of his son, shivering.
He never felt the phaser blast hit him; he was too numb to care.
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Two chapters more, I think. I will update on Sunday, most likely. Possibly sooner if I get the time.