The Silver Stars

by Mr. Coluber

In the far future, a creature of immense evil and power escapes its ultimate fate by crossing the great divide between universes, only stopping its flight when reaching a long time ago, in a Galaxy far away. The drums of war are beating and the creature hungers. It must be stopped. By those within the Galaxy, and those that the creature dragged along with it...

2. Chapter 2

Episode VII

SHADOW OF THE STRANGER

The Galaxy is at the brink of another devastating WAR. Despite Palpatine's defeat three decades before, evil still exists in the form of the ORDER OF THE ONE SITH, which has allied itself with the expansionist CRIMSON EMPIRE, ruled by the ambitious CARNOR JAX, with the ultimate goal being the conquest of the entire Galaxy and reforming DARTH SIDIOUS' EMPIRE.

It is a matter of time until LUKE SKYWALKER AND HIS NEW JEDI ORDER, along with PRINCESS LEIA'S NEW REPUBLIC, are once again, forced to engage with the forces of evil.

Unbeknownst to all parties however, is that a new entity, dark, ancient and evil has made its entrance into the Galaxy. However, there is some hope, as the creature has dragged along with it others that might oppose it…

Seven Crimson Star Destroyers positioned themselves in an orbit around the octahedron shaped station. These Star Destroyers were new models and had been built without many of the weaknesses of their predecessors. It was part of the Crimson Empire's doctrine to update their armament whereas other empires within the Remnant kept the old ships and panoplies in an attempt to mimic Palpatine's empire and declare themselves his true heirs and successors. Their hulls, marked in red, identified them to whomever they decided to attack.

Attack wings of Tie Predators shot out from each vessel, engaging the old and tired Ties that the station itself ordered out to defend itself. The two Victory class Star Destroyers that guarded the station advanced towards the Crimson ships. That was a suicidal course of action, as the two heavy cruisers were outgunned and outnumbered by the new Star Destroyers used by the Crimson Empire.

The shooting match between the capital ships was short, with the two defending starships being quickly obliterated by the barrage of the Crimson Star Destroyers. Only the Tie fighters remained to defend the station, along with the massive defensive ring around the station which contained within it an abundance of turbolaser batteries and torpedo launchers, along with a large amount of old vulture droids.

Rynarr Station would not be an easy target. Orbiting around the gas giant Ograu, the station had been initially built during the Clone Wars to mine rare and valuable elements from the giant's turbulent atmosphere. Its purpose and isolated position required the station to be heavily armored and armed. In addition to the numerous batteries and torpedo launchers, the station possessed powerful shield generators which could allow it to withstand an attack from a fleet.

However too many years had passed since Rynarr Station had been built, fortified and armed. The shield generators were old, and the Crimson Empire had new ships with powerful new guns.

All seven Star Destroyers focused their fire upon the station, and its shields would not last for long. The station's Tie Fighters and Vulture droids engaged the Tie Predators, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.

It was just a matter of time.

---

Kane Starkiller braced himself seconds before the entire structure of the command center began to shake. He at least managed to maintain his composure and his footing; several of the officers within the command center were not so successful, falling either on their backsides or their faces. Kane's charge, Kylo Ren managed to lose his footing in the most spectacular fashion – running into a wall face-first, tumble around and then fall on his rear. It was hilarious, but Starkiller knew better than to laugh at his ward's misfortune. He had been hired to watch over the man, to make sure he felt no discomfort. No one would hire him if he did the opposite.

Besides, quite a few giggles were coming from some of the more tired and less cautious members of the station's command crew. Kylo Ren was going to erupt at whomever had dared do that.

As predicted, the heir to the Ren Empire did so as soon as Kane Starkiller had helped him on his feet.

"Who laughed?!" he angrily shrieked out, like a squawking avian creature. His long face was flushed in anger and his messy black hair hung over his face in such a way that he seemed more like a child than a man in his thirties. "Which one of you laughed?"

Starkiller's hand was already wrapped around the heir's arm given he had to help him up. He considered tightening his grip and slamming Ren's face against the nearest console.

That wouldn't help, especially now.

Starkiller had already figured out who the culprits were. He quickly made his way to them, and then with twice the speed, had slammed both of their faces against the console in a manner he wished he could do to the heir of the Ren Empire.

Everyone else within the command center was stunned by the move. The two stormtroopers present were not so paralyzed, as they lifted the barrels of their weapons the moment Starkiller made his movement. Commander Gezzan seemed to be the only other individual in the room who could figure out what was going on. There was just no time to put up with an imperial tantrum. Not when Rynarr Station was under attack from a Crimson fleet.

"Never do that again!" Kylo Ren screeched, his fingers pointing at the bleeding crewmembers on the floor.

By the time Kane Starkiller had returned to stand by Ren's side, Commander Gezzan was nodding at his first officer, who pressed several commands on the console before him. A holographic display appeared over the circular emitter in the middle of the room. The image revealed the octahedron shaped Rynarr Station with its massive defensive ring loaded with turbolaser turrets and torpedo launchers; several Tie fighters loyal to the Ren Empire could be seen swarming around it, doing their best to fend off the opposing Crimson Tie Predators.

The Crimson flotilla was also shown; seven ships circling the station and firing upon it. Rynarr was not going down without a fight. The turbolasers on the ring and the torpedo launchers were doing their job, firing back at the attacking ships. Upon watching the holographic spectacle, Starkiller hoped that the station's cannons would have some effect on the Star Destroyers, but none seemed too damaged. Tie Fighters and old Vulture droids danced their deadly ballet and did their best to fend off the Predators, but their numbers were dwindling with each weave.

Despite the bravery of those loyal to the Ren Empire, Rynarr Station would fall.

This holographic image showing the battle raging outside of Rynarr Station was a perfect illustration as to why the Crimson Empire was dominating so many of the successor empires within the Imperial Remnant. All of the Star Destroyers used by the Crimson Empire were updated, newer and improved with relation to the older models still used by most of the empires of the Remnant, always too eager to show how true to the old Empire they were. The Ren Empire was no different from those Empires which were conservative in order to declare themselves the true heirs of Palpatine, though in the particular case of the Ren Empire, the reason was more economical than ideological.

"Shields are down to thirty percent!" shouted out a crew member from behind his console. Commander Gezzan took a step back while Kylo Ren shuddered. The heir to the Ren Empire looked at Starkiller with a pleading expression.

Starkiller fought back the urge to belt him across the face. It certainly wouldn't be professional, and it certainly would go against everything his mother had taught him. He could still recall her words clearly.

You never, ever turn your back on a contract. No matter how unpleasant the job is, you stick to it until it's done.

Starkiller had signed a contract with Emperor Derac Ren of the Ren empire to protect his son's life. That he would do to the best of his abilities.

For about a year now, Starkiller had been keeping an eye out for Kylo Ren, making sure that the infantile man did not get killed for all of the trouble he created. The heir to the Ren Empire did not make Starkiller's job any easier.

Derac Ren, for all of his flaws, knew how to run an empire. Kylo Ren could barely control himself.

One of the communications officers lifted his head from his designated console.

"We're being hailed," the young officer said, turning to look at Commander Gezzan.

Commander Gezzan was silent for a moment, his eyes rolling quickly towards Ren. His attention swiftly returned to the communications officer.

"Pass it through, but keep the communication within the command center. I don't want anyone else listening," the commander said. It was a cautious move. The Crimsons had sown confusion on unwary crews with their communications.

The communications officer was good at his job. He worked at his console, making sure that no one else within the station could hear what the Crimsons were saying. He then pressed the button.

Carnor Jax, the second to carry that name, appeared before them. Though it was only a holographic representation of the ruler of the Crimson Empire, everyone within the command center was impressed. Even Starkiller had to admit the fact that the man had an aura of authority. Like his father before him, he wore a variation of the attire worn by Palpatine's Red Guards; the difference being that the uniform itself was mostly black instead of red. Only the helmet, which completely concealed Jax's head, had some red upon it.

The Crimson Emperor was said to be a tall man, but the hologram seemed to further exaggerate this; perhaps the work of Crimson slicers who wanted to impress both their enemy and their ruler. The second Carnor Jax had earned such devotion, after expanding from his father's initial territory within the Yinchorr System in such a quick and decisive manner to form an Empire that was about to reunify the Galaxy.

It was also said that the second Carnor Jax was adept at using the Dark Side of the Force. Other accounts stated that Carnor Jax had made an alliance with the mysterious cult known as the Order of the One Sith.

Either way, as Kane Starkiller looked at the hologram, he couldn't help but have a bad feeling about it.

"Ren loyalists. Cease your resistance," said the Crimson Emperor as he stood still. A moment later, the right side of Jax's cloaked form began to shift. An arm came out. Within his hand Jax held something that had everyone within the command center gasp. Even Starkiller's eyes widened. Kylo Ren, heir to the Ren Empire opened his mouth and let out a scream.

For a moment, Starkiller could sympathize with Ren. It wasn't easy to see the severed head of one's father.

Jax's arm was stretched out, his fingers tightly clutching the hairs on Derac Ren's severed head. Starkiller noticed that the cut which had separated the Ren Emperor's head from the body was jagged, with bits of skin and flesh seemingly torn.

The look on Derac Ren's face was unnerving, as his mouth and eyes remained wide open. His face had lost all color, most likely due to the blood loss, as not a drop came falling down from open and obvious wound.

"I have defeated your false Emperor in the Subbiluliuma System. Your empire has been decapitated," Jax said. Every crew member looked at one another.

"That has to be a lie!" Kylo Ren spat out. "The image has been doctored!"

"This is no lie," said Carnor Jax, as if responding to Ren, while still holding up his father's head. "Surrender to me. Slay his unworthy successor and you will have a place in my Empire, along with great reward."

"Don't listen to that lying thief!" Kylo Ren shouted out. "My father is gathering a fleet near Babuj as we speak!"

Ren's words were reaching Starkiller faintly. He was doing his best to listen to the Force. What little he could hear was not good.

His connection with the Force was a strong one. He had known it since he could remember, and his mother had done her best to teach him how to use it; the Force was in his blood, as she would say it. Though Starkiller was not as proficient at using the Force as a Jedi or a Sith, he knew enough to allow him to possess a sixth sense, to perceive things that most living beings could not on their own.

Carnor Jax was not lying. That was indeed Derac Ren's head. More importantly, he could feel the hostility of the command crew. Not one of them liked Kylo Ren, and they now had an opportunity to do away with him.

Starkiller did not hesitate. He pulled out his weapon from his belt. It was such a queer looking device that most within the command center were more confused than alarmed. Starkiller's mother had made it for him, ten years before. She had called it a 'blaster-sword'. The contraption was a strange combination of a blaster and a lightsaber. It was shorter than most blasters, having a grip that was more vertical than one would usually expect from such a weapon. A handguard came out of the bottom of the blaster's barrel and connected with the very bottom of the handle, protecting the hand of the weapons' wielder. The blaster's frame, which included the handguard, was made of a strange alloy of cortosis and beskar, which Starkiller's mother had somehow managed to acquire.

Of the entire crew, only commander Gezzan seemed to be aware of the danger. Starkiller pulled the trigger of his blaster-sword before the commander could say a word. The blast was precise, striking commander Gezzan in the center of his forehead. Before the commander's corpse had fallen down, Starkiller shot twice more, felling both of the Stormtroopers present, also in the head.

By then, the command crew was aware of what was happening. There were six more of them in the command center. Starkiller shot at the two communications officers and their consoles, making sure that they didn't call for help. The four remaining officers pulled out their blasters without taking cover. Starkiller quickly flicked a switch on his blaster.

A beam of light emerged from atop the blaster's barrel, forming a thin, needle-like blade of silver energy. Though Starkiller was not as proficient with the Force as a Jedi, he knew enough to enhance his reflexes and his physical strength; his mother had known that much. He was skilled enough to use a lightsaber – or something similar to a lightsaber. Starkiller's blaster-sword differed from a common lightsaber in that while the blade of a lightsaber was made of plasma, the blade of a blaster-sword was actually a force-field that could cut through anything. Starkiller would be the first to tell anyone that his blaster-sword was easier to use than a traditional lightsaber. For that reason, similar weapons were used by Force sensitive adventurers throughout the galaxy; the Aquilian Rangers used such weapons, as did some of the men of the Fel Empire. However, its ease of use did not mean that the blaster-sword was inferior to the lightsaber. Oh no. It just as deadly.

The four survivors were about to learn that. Stunned by their surprise, they gave Starkiller the time to leap over a console and decapitate both of the crewmen that had laughed at Kylo Ren just moments before. Now there were only two left. Fueling himself with the Force, Starkiller charged. The two crewmen moved; one shirked while the other tried to raise his blaster. Both were cut in half at the torso.

For a moment, there was silence.

Kylo Ren took several steps in Starkiller's direction, his eyes wide and his face paler than usual.

"Why did you do that?!" he asked with a single shriek.

Starkiller barely turned his head. "They were going to kill you," he bluntly said.

Ren's mouth moved in strange ways. "How do you know that?"

At that moment, Starkiller could have scowled, but he kept his emotions concealed from his charge.

"Trust me your highness. The moment they saw your father's head, they were going to shoot you in the back. Both of us," Starkiller said forcefully. Since he was a child, he had known that if he spoke in a certain tone – and if he was lucky enough – he could sway weak willed people to his way of thinking. His mother had always said that it was an ability that was akin to the Jedi mindtrick, but nowhere near as complete. His trick was unreliable, so he rarely used it. Kylo Ren's personality however, was weak enough to encourage Starkiller.

"How do you know that was my father's head?" Kylo Ren asked, surprising Starkiller with his defiance. Starkiller locked eyes with the heir to the Ren Empire and spoke again with the same tone.

"That was your father's head. Don't delude yourself."

Kylo Ren seemed to shrink, what little color his face had was gone; he looked down on the ground and began to whimper.

Starkiller groaned. Suddenly, something caught his attention. He quickly turned.

Huddled in a corner, he saw an R3 astromech droid. Starkiller pointed the blade of his blaster-sword at it.

"You! Who are you loyal to?" he asked.

The astromech droid produced several beeps which satisfied Starkiller. He deactivated the blade of his blaster-sword.

"That is Kylo Ren," said Starkiller, pointing at Kylo Ren, who looked lost. "Son of Derac Ren, and now Emperor of the Ren Empire. You are his subject. You owe him your obedience."

The droid beeped.

"We might need him," Starkiller said, turning to Ren. He then made his way to the console.

"What are you doing?" Kylo Ren asked with a quivering voice.

"Finding a way out of here. While I'm doing this, it might be a good idea if you wore something else," Starkiller remarked, remembering that the Crimsons would sooner or later make their message clear to everyone else within Rynarr Station. If Kylo Ren were caught he might be immediately executed, and Starkiller would share the same fate. "Put on that officer's uniform. That one over there. The one with the severed head"

While Kylo Ren made his way to the dead officer, Starkiller worked at the console. He scowled.

"R3, help me out here," he said. The astromech droid beeped and made his connection to the computer.

A hologram of Rynarr Station suddenly appeared, transparent, and showing every deck and every corridor. Starkiller smiled as he looked at the very pointed top of the octahedron.

His guess had been right.

Rynarr Station was old. Having been built during the early years of the Clone Wars, it had a long and interesting history, being owned by pirates, smugglers and ne'er-do-wells before becoming an outpost of the Ren Empire. Before Derac Ren had conquered it, Rynarr Station was owned by a scoundrel named Aza Kandrix, who was known for building escape routes within his many bases. An escape route was what Starkiller and his charge needed. An escape route was what Starkiller saw in the blue holographic schematic before him.

Starkiller could see the command center, in the very center of the octahedron-shaped station. That was deck C.

Within deck C, there were four turbo lifts which lead upwards to deck 3. From deck 3, there was on turbo lift which lead to the very top of Rynarr Station, to the interior of its pointed peak.

Inside of the peak, Starkiller could see a concealed hangar bay, along with the outline of what was clearly a GAT-12 Skipray Blastboat. Additional information revealed that the peak itself would be blown off once the blastboat was ready to leave, expelling an ionic cloud that was 350,000 klicks in circumference and which could incapacitate any surrounding vessel save for the blastboat.

Now a clear escape plan began to form in Starkiller's mind. All he had to do was take himself and Kylo Ren to the blastboat, escape the station, and then go to Bastion and hand over the Ren heir to the Fel Empire, the last state to resist the Crimson Empire. Starkiller was sure that Ren would be safe in their hands and that meant that his deal with Derac Ren would be fulfilled.

He smiled and moved his head away from the holographic in time to see his charge dressed in a lieutenant's uniform. Fortunately, the heir had had the presence of mind to take the officer's blaster as well.

In turn, Starkiller changed his own attire in a speedy manner, retaining his blaster-sword however, putting it in the holster which should have held a standard SE-14r blaster pistol.

"We're getting out of here," Starkiller said. He turned to look at the droid. "You're coming with us."

The droid beeped.

The blast door was opened and closed quickly – fast enough so that no one could watch the carnage within. Luckily, there was no one around anyway. Most were certainly at their posts, doing their best to ward off the Crimsons.

Yet, Starkiller was getting a bad feeling about it. Everything seemed so eerily quiet. Having committed to memory the path to escape, Starkiller quickly escorted Ren to the nearest of the four turbolifts.

As they reached the turbolift however, an officer followed by a small squad of five stormtroopers rounded the corner. The officer casually walked up to the two men and their droid.

"Ensigns, have you received any word from commander Gezzan?" the officer asked, Starkiller noticing that the man was a First Lieutenant.

"Commander Gezzan ordered us to deck 5. That was half a minute ago," Starkiller said.

The lieutenant nodded. It was then that his eyes stopped at Starkiller's holster.

"Have you received word that Emperor Derac Ren was slain?" he asked.

Starkiller's heart skipped a beat. The lieutenant knew that something was wrong with them. There was no time to waste. He drew out his blaster-sword and shot the lieutenant in his gut. He followed that by shooting two more stormtroopers quickly, before igniting the blade of his sword. One stormtrooper tried to shoot at him, but Starkiller's blade deflected the blast at him. Using that stormtrooper's body to shield him, Starkliller advanced towards the remaining two and quickly slashed at them.

Once they were on the floor, Starkiller turned around. R3 had already opened the turbolift door, and Kylo Ren had rushed in. The door was about to close when Starkiller used the Force to propel himself inside the turbolift.

Ren looked at him sheepishly.

"It just started to close behind me," he said.

Starkiller didn't utter a response. He focused instead on his mission.

He suddenly felt a horrible sense of unease. He couldn't quite explain it, but the sensation was similar to one he always felt when Jedi were in close proximity. The unpleasantness of the sensation was enough to have Starkiller consider that Dark Side users might be present. He quickly recalled those rumors concerning Carnor Jax and his association with the Dark Side of the Force.

Starkiller hoped he was wrong. He hoped that there wasn't a Sith within the station.

The turbolift doors opened, revealing deck 3. Before them was a blast door which certainly opened to the atrium within which the last turbolift was contained. The two men and the droid walked out and opened the door on the opposite side.

Truth be told, the atrium shown in the hologram was more like a lounge. A place of pleasure for whomever owned the station. Ren didn't seem to know anything about it.

However, they quickly realized that they were not alone.

In the very center of the lounge stood a twi'lek female- a red lethan twi'lek with black markings on the parts of her skin that were exposed by her immodest garb. She was beautiful and terrifying to behold. Her smile was fierce and savage.

"Hello," she said with a sultry voice, before raising her arm.

Starkiller's reaction was instinctive. Somehow, he managed to block whatever it was she was trying to do.

The twi'lek frowned.

"Fine. We'll do it the hard way."

Her arm had remained in a raised position, but this time, Starkiller saw bolts of lightning coming out of the tips of her fingers. Starkiller was quick to ignite the blade of his blaster-sword and use it to block the bolts.

He was almost successful. Although the blade of his weapon do block the brunt of the assault, the bolt itself branched out into several tendrils of heinous energy which lashed out and struck Starkiller even as he held his weapon.

Starkiller never felt such pain in his life. The world around him seemed to cease to exist. He didn't hear Kylo Ren scream before he died, stricken down by the same malicious energy. All he could do was force himself to remain on his feet, and never drop his blaster-sword. The agony did not stop, as much as Starkiller tried to push back the wave of energy with his blade.

He could feel it pushing against his blade, but it was also penetrating his body, burning skin, hair and flesh. The stench of burning meat became overwhelming, and he knew that the meat was his. He could feel one of his eyes melt, and his nose disintegrate.

There was nothing that Starkiller could do, but feel a growing rage.

It was then that the entire universe seemed to fall under his own feet. The searing pain was replaced with an equally unpleasant sensation of displacement.

He saw himself surrounded by the black void of space with well known and familiar stars around him. Starkiller then saw a dead planet tear a hole in reality, and new stars coming in, forming a band of stars behind the stars he was familiar with.

After what seemed like an eternity, he opened his eyes. He could only see through one, as the other was gone, but he saw his Twi'lek attacker on the floor, seemingly knocked out. He then saw his hands.

They were black and charred. Starkiller could see cracks within them which revealed the white bone beneath. He wondered if he was still alive.

From out of nowhere, several metallic hands grabbed at his form; he barely felt them, many of his nerves having been burned away by the twi'lek's lightning along with the skin on his flesh, but he could feel something.

Droids were lifting him up and carrying him away. When they turned him, he managed to see the smoldering pile of burned flesh that used to be Kylo Ren. The droids did not stop however. Starkiller heard a beep, and he knew that somehow, the R3 unit had survived the confrontation; R3 seemingly opened the turbolift door, and the droids carried him in.

In just a few seconds, he was in the concealed hangar bay, his burned body being carried and then dumped into the Skipray Blastboat.

It was then that Starkiller had the unnerving realization that something else was keeping him alive. His heart still pumped blood into his burned tissue and his lungs still provided oxygen for his cells to process and function. It should not be so, but something had guarded his respiratory and circulatory systems from fatal damage. Something was beating his heart and inflating his lungs. For what purpose, he did not know. He heard the hatch of the blastboat close, and then he heard a loud explosion.

An eldritch voice came out of the blastboat's comm.

You and I will be great friends.

Starkiller passed out. He did not see the new band of silver stars set behind the old ones in the black void of space.

---

Carnor Jax stared out the large viewport at space itself with silent horror. It was fortunate that he was wearing the robes he had inherited from his father – who himself had received it from Palpatine himself. The uniform covered him from head to toe, concealing his entire self, including the expression on his face. His expression was certainly one which he didn't want his subordinates, or anyone else, to see. It would reveal weakness, and any revelation of weakness would spell doom to his rule in such a crucial time.

For once, Carnor Jax was truly terrified. He had never seen a band of stars appear in space suddenly before. No one had. Even the command crew was astonished by the event.

It was fortunate that the crew had been so distracted that they didn't notice the physical effect the event had on Carnor Jax himself. Had it not been for the harsh training his father had given him, he would have fallen on his face. The sensation was the most unpleasant he had ever experienced. Even now, beneath his concealing robes, Carnor Jax was still sweating like a naked farm animal.

The incapacitation of the Crimson flotilla and the fact that someone escaped from the Ren station seemed so insignificant in comparison, but these two events had to be addressed. Carnor Jax knew that ignoring one problem for the other would make him look weak to his new Sith friends, but this event was so overwhelming. In the darkest recess of his mind, Carnor Jax hoped that his One Sith allies felt the same unpleasantness he had. He couldn't help but notice that his command crew hadn't suffered anything worse than shock and awe; what he had felt was most likely due to his Force-sensitivity, which was shared with the Sith.

"Systems are back online your Highness," said one of the officers. Jax nearly guffawed. He had almost forgotten that his ship, the Emperor's Revenge had been deeply affected by the cloud of ionized particles as well. He hadn't anticipated that a sudden explosion of one of the extremities of the Ren station would have such devastating effects. He would have to have a word with intelligence.

Jax turned towards the communications officer.

"And the other ships?" he asked with as calm a voice as he could muster.

"Are coming back online sir," said the lieutenant.

"What about that blastboat?" the Crimson Emperor asked. When compared with the new belt of stars in space, the escape of the blastboat did seem minor, but it was something Jax had to address.

"Gone sir," the lieutenant said. Jax didn't press the matter. Any survivor wouldn't be so dangerous to him. Not now. Almost every empire within the Remnant had been conquered. Only the Fel and a few independent worlds remained.

He turned once more towards the viewport. His eyes went to the eldritch belt of stars which stretched out from one end of infinity to the other.

"What sort of readings are you receiving from those stars?" he asked, pointing at the band of stars before him.

There was a moment of silence.

"Nothing, your Highness," said the sensor officer.

Carnor Jax turned around.

"Nothing?" he asked with disbelief.

"I mean, the stars are definitely there… and other things as well," stuttered the lieutenant, "but the data is all garbled."

Jax nodded. It was to be expected. Such an event would never be easy to explain.

Perhaps, it would be easier for a Sith.

Although Carnor Jax had been engineered by his father to be extremely Force-senstive – so much that he could use the Force to enhance his physical abilities and even possess a form of extra-sensorial perception – the Sith had training.

A Sith might know what happened.

Jax turned to the communications officer. "Get Darth Talon."

The officer nodded and turned to his console. After a while, he turned towards the Crimson Emperor.

"Your Highness! Darth Talon is online," said the communications officer. Jax sat on his throne within the birdge.

"Good," Jax said matter-of-factly.

Carnor Jax took a moment to consider something. He might not want everyone to hear what was said.

"I'll take her message in ready room 1," Jax said as he walked away from the bridge. Ready room 1 was adjacent to the bridge, so it wasn't a long walk. "Commander Baboojo, the bridge is yours."

"Yes sir," replied the first officer.

The door to the ready room quickly opened to him. Carnor Jax entered. He stepped in position, and the holo-emitter activated. The holographic form of the lethan twilek Darth Talon instantly formed.

She didn't seem at all happy. In fact, she seemed she had been hit by a rancor. Jax was pleased by that and couldn't help but smile beneath his mask.

"Lady Talon, I assume you accomplished your mission," he said.

"I did. Kylo Ren is dead. He died like a womprat," Talon said with a low growl.

"Did you allow anyone to escape?" Jax asked.

The twi'lek scowled. "I am sure no one escaped."

"I'm sure someone did," Carnor Jax said. "A skipray blastboat escaped from the station, all thanks to an ion cloud which exploded from the station," Jax said. Technically, he was admitting to failure but the failure was also of Talon's responsibility, and her displeasure was something to enjoy. More and more, he questioned the wisdom of aligning his Empire with the One Sith, regretting it with every passing second.

He had to get rid of them. Soon.

Her lovely face deformed into an ugly scowl.

"How could you let him escape?"

"I didn't have a choice. I told you that already," Jax explained calmly. He couldn't believe the insolence that he was witnessing. Talon expected the Emperor of the Crimson Empire to explain himself. He scowled beneath his mask, but he decided to play along. This might be fun. "The explosion from the summit of the station which allowed that ship to escape created a massive cloud of ionized particles to be released. Every one of my ships was immobilized and helpless. If there was any failure, it was at your end. You could have prevented that from happening. Who did you allow to escape?"

Darth Talon fumed.

"No one," she said with an angry growl.

Jax felt a sudden tightening of his throat. Air was suddenly blocked from going in and out of his body. Any other person would have immediately started to contort or whinge, but Jax had been thoroughly trained, and the attack had angered him enough to give him the fuel to resist. This Sith Lady wasn't even in the same league as Palpatine's apprentice. Jax used the Force to loosen Talon's grip and reestablishing the flow of air into his lungs, all the while remaining firmly on his feet without showing any evidence of harm.

"Lady Talon, do you value our allegiance?" Jax asked, his voice low, but still strong. He knew that the One Sith were still dependent of the Crimson Empire to further their goals. Jax certainly knew that, and he was sure he could outplay them.

"Please, do not speak to Lord Krayt about this," she hissed out. "Forgive me. I was being a fool."

"Yes you were!" Jax growled out. Maybe he should demand her death. He should kill her himself. But she was Darth Krayt's pet, and amongst his most efficient champions. Complications might arise with her sudden death. The game he and the Sith were playing would become less controllable. He decided to turn the conversation to another subject. "What has happened to the Ren loyalists?"

"They're subdued and loyal to you," she said.

Jax almost nodded. That was no surprise to him at all.

"Then there's no more need for you to be there. I'll send a shuttle. You'll love the brand knew stars that space has to offer," said Jax wondering how Talon would react to the belt of stars which had suddenly appeared. He needed to know if she had a clue.

Darth Talon narrowed her eyes and tightened her lip. "What do you mean by 'brand new stars'?"

Carnor Jax took a moment to clear his throat. "While you were having fun, a wide belt of stars suddenly appeared in space. Reaching out to infinity, it would seem. We still don't know what happened."

"When was this?" Darth Talon asked. Carnor Jax could see that she was very eager to know. The appearance of the stars had affected her, but she seemed to be clueless.

"Around twenty minutes ago," Jax replied. Talon's eyes widened. He then added, "It was quite the spectacle."

"I'll wait for your shuttle," Talon said, and the image disappeared.

Carnor Jax pondered on Talon's reaction. She had no idea what had happened. But she knew what she had to do. She would most certainly speak to Darth Krayt. Carnor Jax wondered if he could ask the Dark Lord what had happened and get a sincere response. Carnor Jax couldn't help but chuckle at that idea. Darth Krayt would give him some of the truth, but not all of it. Carnor Jax would behave in the same way.

---

Roaming season was approaching. The Nomad Reeds had been digging their ambulatory vines into the ground for about a standard week now. Within another week, the entire Nomad Woodland would be lifted off the ground, and move to a new location, leaving behind a barren desert of rock and churned soil. Nomad Woodlands were made up of reeds of varying height, the smallest measuring 6 inches, and the largest and least abundant taking on more arboreal forms and rising as tall as fifteen feet.

Such Nomad Woodlands, with a range between 14 and 100 kilometers, could take as little as a few days to cross the entirety of the arid supercontinent that dominated the planet called Yaska, in order to find soil that was rich in nutrients. Such nomadic patches of vegetation could travel from one pole to the other, through rocky deserts, to the devastating stormlands of the south. The small fauna dependent upon the woodlands had by now retired to their shelters. Larger animals had already begun their migration, alerted by the shifting taste of the vegetation they consumed.

Kira Solo did not intend to stay long enough to witness such a spectacle, as she stood atop one of the smaller Nomad Woodlands, behind a row of reeds that were seven feet tall. Indeed, she was not in Yaska to enjoy the native scenery.

She was a Jedi Knight after all, and she was on an important mission for her mother.

Looking through her macrobinoculars, she saw a company of Crimson stormtroopers, their armor marked with red, stationed dangerously close to the cave in which she and Bail had hidden the Millenium Falcon. It was fortunate that both Bail and Chewie had remembered to conceal the cave's entrance with a rare and realistic holographic cover, otherwise the Crimson troopers would have found the Falcon easily enough. However, all that was needed was for a trooper to kick a rock into the illusionary wall or perform a cursory inspection, for the deception to be unveiled. Kira hoped that such a thing didn't happen. So far, nothing like that had happened. That the cave's entrance was perpendicular to where the troopers were stationed gave her some hope that the Falcon wouldn't be discovered. The odds however, were against that happening. The cave would have already been discovered by any other group of soldiers. Just not this one.

Kira wondered if the Crimson officers were lazy, or in a hurry. She was inclined to believe the latter, though the former would be funny enough to talk about.

The cave itself was located within the base of a large mesa surrounded by soil that lacked vegetation; the cave was pointing north and eastward. The company of stormtroopers was located at the southern side of the mesa, where the open plain was wider and there was more space to set camp. Worse was the fact that the Crimsons had installed a particularly powerful pair of turbo-laser batteries and an ion cannon on the top of the mesa, undoubtedly to protect the camp from any aerial attack.

That battery was the only reason Chewie, who had remained within the Falcon along with R2D2, hadn't just come out of the cave, blasting the Crimsons to pieces. Those turbolasers would have destroyed the Falcon in an instant.

However, what gave Kira the most concern was the quarren dressed in black, with black markings all over his alien head and his bare hands. There was no doubt that he was a Sith of the One Sith.

Most likely, his presence was the reason why the Crimsons were seemingly so careless about inspecting the mesa, and in a rush to capture their quarry.

The notion of the Sith still existing was still confusing, after all of this time. Kira's uncle Luke had told her that her grandfather had restored balance to the Force when he killed the Emperor, thus eliminating the Sith. Yet here were people using the Dark Side, calling themselves Sith. When she asked Uncle Luke about this, he didn't have an answer. What was worse, he looked completely clueless and confused whenever the subject was broached. The implication was unnerving.

Still, there was a Sith amongst the Crimson troopers, no doubt there to aid them in their mission, even when he didn't. She couldn't help but be concerned for her brother. The moment they had spotted the Crimson company near the Falcon's hiding place, he decided to do some infiltration. Kira herself would have done it if not for the presence of the Sith with the Crimson host; Bail was much better at hiding his presence in the Force than she was. If Kira were to approach, the Sith might get a 'whiff' of her.

She passed the macrobinoculars to the old man crouched next to her. He took a quick look before grunting.

"A single company?" the old man said with disgust. "Who do they think I am?"

"An old man," Mirith Kil, the old man's wife said.

The old man grunted. "I'm still Kir Kanos, even when I'm Kenix Kil, no matter what my age is. I deserve some blasted respect."

The old man wasn't wrong. Once, many years ago, he was a Red Guard in the service of Emperor Palpatine, forming a duo with the first Carnor Jax, father to the current rule of the Crimson Empire. For the longest time, he was the most dangerous man within the remnant, and he had sworn vengeance against Kira's uncle Luke. He then met Mirith Sinn, a former leader of a rebellion cell, who healed Kanos from the indoctrination he had been subjected to from such a young age. The two had been married for quite a while now, and Mirith Kanos – or Mirith Kil, since Kanos was now living under the name of Kenix Kil – had been warned that the second Carnor Jax wanted to eliminate Kir Kanos, and knew where he was hiding. They were both old and incapable of taking care of themselves as they used to, so Mirith Kanos took it upon herself to call help from the New Republic.

"There's a Sith with them General Kanos," she remarked grimly "Carnor Jax takes you seriously enough."

Kanos grumbled. "Where's your brother?"

Kira held out her hand, palm up; Kanos placed the macrobinoculars back into her possession. She looked through them again. She quickly identified Bail by his gait; he was dressed in the scout armor worn by the Crimsons. He had managed to obtain it in a previous mission, and had no concern in wearing it now. Bail positioned himself as close as he could to the Crimson Shuttle.

Bail's plan – or rather, his mad idea – was to steal the shuttle, and use it to sow confusion amongst the ranks of the Crimson troopers, along with destroying the battery as Bail reckoned that the shuttle could attack the batteries by surprise. During the mayhem, Kira would be able get to the Falcon and smuggle out Kir Kanos and his wife Mirith, away from the planet and the clutches of the Crimsons. Bail would escape with the shuttle, and ditch it somewhere else before returning to Aquilae.

Much to her dismay, Kira saw the Sith approaching Bail. She hoped he was as good at masking his potentiality with the Force as he claimed to be. It was a technique developed by those Jedi that had survived the Jedi purge and being hunted down by Inquisitors, Imperial Hands, or her grandfather, Darth Vader. Those Jedi which had passed down the knowledge had survived, so there was some hope.

Kira adjusted the comm in her ear, hoping she could hear anything through Bail's own device.

She could see her brother bumping into the shuttle pilot, his uniform, much like the armors and uniforms of his colleagues, decorated with red markings. It was clear that Bail was stealing the other pilot's keys to the shuttle.

"Be careful there!" said Bail to the pilot.

"What? You bumped into me!"

Kira saw a third officer approach.

"Both of you pipe it down before Darth Vooluk notices," the officer warned them.

"Why do we need to care about them?" Bail asked. Kira scowled. He was taking a very big risk with that question.

"Because our Emperor wants a Sith of the One Sith attached to each company. Do not dare to question such a decision. Others have and they have suffered for it."

Suddenly, the officer straightened up his posture, as did the pilot. Of the three, Bail was slower to straighten his back. Looking to her right with the macrobinoculars, Kira could see why the two Crimsons acted in such a manner, and she could see the danger Bail was in.

The Sith was approaching him.

"I don't recognize your posture," said the Sith.

"Excuse me my lord?" Bail asked, at last showing some humility. He should have done that before.

"The manner in which you are standing. The manner in which your body moves. It is odd and queer to my eyes," said the Sith.

Kira lowered the macrobinoculars and groaned. She had to act quickly, or Bail would die like a dummy.

She turned towards Kanos and his wife. "Get ready. We're going to charge."

"Charge?" Mirith asked in disbelief. "Just the three of us?"

"No" Kira said, kneeling down and placing her hand on the Nomad Reeds at her feet. "We'll have help."

She closed her eyes, and cleared her mind. The Force could be used to control wildlife; some were better at it than others. Kira's ability with communicating and controlling wildlife was middling, to put it in generous terms. She had been practicing the technique for quite some time, with very little improvement. But it was enough for her to try.

There is no try, just do – it was a saying that Kira at times absolutely hated. This time, she had to respect the spirit of the saying. She felt the Force flow through her, forming a connection with the Nomad Reeds.

Kira opened her eyes. She could see more clearly than before, with the same clarity one could get from looking through the macrobinoculars. She saw the Sith turn away from her brother and look in her direction. She saw the blazing red blade erupt from its cylindrical handle in the quarren's hand. The Sith Darth Vooluk quickened his pace; it seemed he could see Kira as well as she could see him. With some relief, she noticed that Bail took the opportunity to pry whatever codes he needed from the pilot he had been speaking to; Bail was unnaturally talented at using certain techniques without being noticed by other Force users. Darth Vooluk was too focused on her to notice.

The Nomad Reeds began to answer back to Kira's prodding with the Force. She smiled. All she needed to do was give the reeds a little nudge. That's exactly what she did; she fooled – in a manner of speaking – the Nomad Reeds into beginning their trek sooner than intended. The ground suddenly began to shake, and the tremors began to reach the Crimson camp. The Crimson stormtroopers grabbed their weapons and rallied.

With vines that were now more like tendrils, the Nomad Woodland moved with stunning speed; Kira used the Force to push the Woodland towards the mesa and towards the Crimson stormtroopers.

Through the corner of her eye, Kira could see Kanos, already dressed in his old red robes from when he was a royal guard taking position next to a Nomad Tree with his blaster rifle set and ready to fire. It only took a moment for her to wonder when the old man had time to change his clothes; in the next moment, her attention was on the Sith who was charging at her.

Nothing would stop the Nomad Reeds now, so Kira stood up and took her lightsaber from her belt. A single flick was all that was needed for the purple blade to ignite.

Propelled by the Dark Side, the Sith leapt towards the Nomad Woodland in a tremendous bound that was over fifteen feet in length. That didn't impress Kira, who held her lightsaber in a steady stance.

The Sith flipped in the air three times before landing before Kira.

Like any decent Jedi, Kira raised the purple blade of her lightsaber, ready to block the Sith's inevitable downward attack. The Jedi knight calmly stepped to the side with a smile as the Sith's red blade came down where Kira was standing.

Kira swung in the Sith's direction. The Sith was fast enough to block the swing, and then he pivoted to a better position. Almost immediately afterwards, Darth Vooluk aimed at Kira's head. The Jedi moved to block it, but the Sith quickly changed the swing of his lightsaber to attack her legs. Just just in time, Kira leapt upwards, in a six foot tall arch, landing some feet away. Fueled by rage, Darth Vooluk charged at her, swinging at her in his madness. Kira blocked every swing, and then, in a moment in which the Sith seemed tired by his own assault, she countered with a swing of her own, aiming her purple lightsaber at the Sith's neck, with the clear intent to decapitate.

It was a clearly telegraphed swing and Darth Vooluk quickly placed his lightsaber in the position to block it. The two blades were seconds away from making contact, when Kira suddenly deactivated the blade of her lightsaber.

The surprise was enough to momentarily paralyze the Sith, and in that moment, Kira reactivated her lightsaber, which was now in a much lower position, with its blade pointed at her enemy's abdomen.

With a quick jab, Kira stabbed the purple point into the quarren's gut. With two swings, she cut the Sith in half.

She took a deep breath before a blast that whizzed past her ear reminded Kira that the battle wasn't over yet.

The Nomad Woodland had by then reached the southern base of the mesa, its vines cracking like whips, crawling it onwards in a western direction – a direction opposite to the cave in which Chewie, Artoo and the Falcon were hidden. The entire company of Crimson stormtroopers were now firing at the Nomad Woodland, their target the red garbed old man firing back at them.

Crimson blasts were smashing against the Nomad Trees without leaving any mark; Nomad Woodlands had to withstand the destructive bolts of the stormlands, so this was no surprise to Kanos, who knew this well, and used the trees for cover.

Many of the Crimsons began to penetrate the Nomad Woodland, running and jumping on to the mobile green field. Kira was quick to cut those Crimsons closest to her; the Kanos couple would blast them or stab them with their vibroblades.

It was then that Kira heard Bail's voice through the comm:

"I got the batteries Chewie! You can come out now! My sister needs help!"

Almost immediately afterwards, Kira heard the familiar sound of the Millennium Falcon. She looked upwards in time to see the Crimson shuttle and the Falcon both rain hell upon the Crimson troopers. The Falcon lowered itself on a clearing within the mobile Nomad Woodland. Kira didn't have to yell at either one of the Kanos. They saw the ship's descent and they immediately ran to the Falcon's lowering ramp. Chewie came out, firing his bowcaster at the Crimson troopers that had managed to leap or climb their way on to the Nomad Woodland, and approach the landing site.

Chewie bellowed out and Kira knew that it was time to go. More blasts flew in her direction; Kira would use her lightsaber to deflect each blast back at whomever had shot at her.

A few more steps, and she was in the Millennium Falcon, the ramp closing behind her as Chewbacca gave her a helping hand.

The Wookie let out a bark before turning to the access corridor which lead to the cockpit. Artoo followed shortly behind him.

"I'm right behind you!" Kira said, following the Wookie.

It felt good sitting in the co-pilot's seat of the Falcon after a day and a half trying to convince Kir Kanos to listen to his wife and leave Yaska. Considering how hard it had been at first, it was hard to believe that the pair were now in the main hold.

Chewie let out a growl, while Artoo, plugged into the computer made his own beeps and boops.

Kira could have kicked herself at how thoughtless she had been. She spoke into the comm.

"Mirith! Lord Kanos! We need you manning the quad-laser cannons!"

Kira turned to Chewie.

"How many ships do you think are up there?" she asked.

Chewie just shrugged as he focused all of his attention at piloting the Falcon.

The exit of both the Millennium Falcon and the Crimson shuttle Bail was piloting was uneventful until they left Yaska's atmosphere behind them. A single Star Destroyer with a red bar across it could be seen in plain sight.

"Tie Predators are coming our way!" Bail said through the comm.

Chewie let out a growl.

"You know Bail always has to point out the obvious," Kira replied.

No soon had she said that and the opposing vessels engaged. Kira's father had told her and Bail numerous times about the escape from the Death Star, how Chewie was at the controls while he and Uncle Luke manned the cannons. That was in a different decade, against different Tie-fighters. The Tie-Predators were faster and tougher than the old ties her parents and Uncle Luke had to face. However, the Falcon herself had been upgraded since then.

The Kanos couple were also deadly shots. It seemed that almost every Predator that fell within their sights was immediately obliterated. Such accuracy was rare to behold.

Bail wasn't half-bad with the shuttle either. Together, the Falcon and the shuttle were capable of fashioning a weave that allowed them both to defend each other in a more deadly manner from the Predators than on their own.

"This shuttle is a beauty! Maybe I should keep her and give her a name!" Bail said through the comm.

"Don't do that Bail," Kira answered back. "Your names are terrible."

"You didn't say a word when I suggested Jacen call his new ship Pretty Jizzy Girl," Bail said.

"I was trying not to throw up," Kira replied in clear disgust at remembering such a name.

The banter was interrupted when Chewie let out a growl.

"Chewie's right Bail," Kira said in agreement. "Even if we kill all of those Predators, another Star Destroyer, or worse, an Interdictor might arrive. We'll meet up at Aquilae."

"As planned," replied Bail. "Got it sis. Hey! I know what I'm going to call my new ship! My-Sister-Is-A-Pain-In-The-Rear."

Bail then made a few maneuvers to free himself from the growing number of Predators, and then quickly disappeared into hyperspace.

A few beeps and boops came out of Artoo.

Kira turned to the comm. "Hey you two lovebirds! We're going into hyperspace. Get ready!"

Chewie maneuvered the Falcon into the best position he could, and then he pulled the lever. In an instant all of space seemed to disappear, replaced with what resembled a tunnel of several shades of blue.

Kira couldn't help but fall back in her seat and smile.

"We're safe," she said.

The more cautious Wookie let out a more measured growl.

"Can't you lighten up a bit?" Kira said.

It was then that the universe around her seemed to collapse. It was the most unpleasant sensation Kira had ever felt. There was no up and down, no right and left. Her being was torn apart and tossed to several corners of existence and minute dust particles seemed to be playing musical instruments before her very eyes. Stars merged with one another only to separate again. Atmospheres were sucked away from their planets to be given to black stars, which ate them voraciously.

The tiny dust particles soon increased in size, until Kira could now see strange creatures with odd faces staring back at her. All of them had three pairs of arms, but no legs – perhaps they had them hidden beneath their robes. Each of these strange creatures held within one of its hands a strange device shaped like a long octagonal prism, with keys on its surface. Their long fingers deftly pressed each key; music, matter and energy came out – and something more. They seemed to be playing the Force itself. She then saw a bright circle of coruscating light. The outline of an arm began to sketch out above the light, while below it was the outline of a hand. Soon, the rest of a body appeared, until it was no longer an outline, but a clearly visible form of a man.

Suddenly, she was pulled away, before she could make sense of what she was seeing. Kira found herself in Chewie's arms; the Wookie was gently stroking her hair and purring. Mirith and Kanos were also there, looking over Chewie's big shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Mirith asked.

Kira groaned. "I guess."

She looked at Chewie. "What happened?"

The Wookie quickly replied.

"We dropped out of hyperspace?" she asked, quickly finding her strength again and getting up, finding out that she had been lying down on the cockpit floor. Artoo was still plugged into the navicom.

"Where are we?" she asked the droid.

The droid beeped.

"Utapau? How? We were on our way to Aquilae!" she exclaimed.

Artoo beeped again, and Kanos joined the chorus.

"Whatever dropped us out of hyperspace tossed us here with no rhyme or reason. Never seen anything like this in my life, and I've seen a lot," the former Imperial Guard said.

Kanos wasn't wrong. Kira wondered what sort of stupid joke Bail would say at her expense.

It was then that Kira remembered that Bail must have also been in hyperspace when whatever had happened, happened. He didn't have the luxury of being accompanied by Chewbacca or Artoo. He was on his own.

She had a horrible feeling.

Suddenly, Mirith let out a shriek and was shortly followed by Chewie shouting out a profanity in his native language. Kira looked out the viewport and saw something that horrified her enough to forget her brother's fate for just a moment.

Out there, in the black void of space, behind the stars she was already familiar with regardless of their position, she saw a belt of eldritch, silver stars which seemed to stretch out into infinity.

---

For countless centuries, perhaps even millennia, the Great Golden Dome stood atop the craggy peak of a mountain that was eroding away. There was no evidence, written or otherwise, which pointed to the dome's original function, or its original builders. All Old Master Luke Skywalker knew and said, was that meditating within the great hall hollowed out within the dome, increased his clarity.

The dome itself could never have been built by the Jedi. It was too old, older than the first Jedi. Master Skywalker reckoned that a forgotten sect of Force users had built it. He had no doubt however, that those lost Force users had been inspired by the Light Side. That it had been built here, on Aquilae, was nothing but a confirmation of this fact; Aquilae seemed to be one of those planets with great strength in the Light Side of the Force. No Jedi could ever say that his or her perceptions were distorted within Aquilae.

It was why Master Skywalker had decided to build the new Jedi Temple here, and not in Coruscant as his sister had proposed. Coruscant was too compromised, and being so close to political power was detrimental to the New Order, as it had been to the Old.

From the top of the Silver Hill, Grogu could see it, in addition to a wide swathe of land that lay between the hill and the mountain. The temple's red-golden dome reflecting the sunlight faintly. It didn't look as ancient as it actually was. Master Skywalker had said that the temple was merely reflecting the Force as emanating from the planet of Aquilae; that was what gave the old edifice its fresh veneer.

He removed his jacket and folded it, sitting down, then laying the folded jacket on the argent grass next to him. With a deep breath, Grogu crossed his legs and closed his eyes.

He had to find the meaning to the dreams he was having. Strange, eldritch dreams. It seemed to be a common occurrence with the Jedi as of late. Master Skywalked himself was having his own strange and invasive dreams; the old man had confided with Grogu that he was dreaming of a redheaded woman and a redheaded child. The old Jedi master would not say anymore, but Grogu had a feeling that it was something of personal importance, and that the redheaded woman's identity was no secret to the old man.

Grogu's dreams were less personal and more exotic. He dreamt of creature and cities no bigger than a grain of sand. There was significance to that. The Force was telling him something.

With one deep breath, he tried to make himself one with the Force.

He had to be careful. This could be easy; or it could be hard. The technique was ancient; Master Skywalker had only rediscovered it ten years prior. Any attempts at using it had been too few for reliability. Even so, he had to try.

Grogu felt himself expand, growing larger than any planet. He saw Aquilae, the world which the New Jedi Order called home as a blue and green gem in a sea of darkness. Grogu continued to grow and with that growth, His perceptions expanded. He saw other star systems, other worlds. He saw with joy an older Din Djarin in Naboo, living in a palace and surrounded by grandchildren. He saw Coruscant and the new Senate building. He saw so many planets he had never been to or thought of.

Then, there was darkness. Grogu was apprehensive, wondering what this meant. A bright light began to shine with an intensity of a thousand exploding suns. Grogu waited for the inevitable revelation.

Nothing but disappointment awaited Grogu. He saw a dead planet, and upon the surface of that planet, a city, and within that city there was a great edifice. All were unimaginably old, but there was power within. Grogu could also see that something malicious was crawling in, like living slime oozing its way into the cracks and crevices of an old building.

It was then that Grogu saw a man. The man was redheaded, something which he found curious. He wondered if this man had anything to do with Master Skywalker's visions. He then saw the man burn up in an eldritch flame that disintegrated him, particle by particle, and then built him back up again, but this time, taller, stronger, with an evil glow to his eyes. On the man's shoulder, Grogu saw a black shadow with many eyes staring back at him.

Grogu didn't need to wonder why the Force would show him this individual. He was an evil to come. Him and his shadow.

At that moment, the many-eyed shadow suddenly extended itself towards Grogu, taking on the form of a krayt dragon, knocking him back.

Grogu's vision began to shake and blur, and he felt himself shrinking faster than he had grown. Within the space of a second, his eyes were open, and he was still sitting atop the peak of the Silver Hill. He felt exhausted.

"Grogu!" he heard a familiar voice shout out.

Rubbing his forehead, Grogu turned and looked down the slope of the Silver Hill to see Jacen Syndulla climbing upwards. As usual, the young human-twi'lek hybrid did so in large leaps and bounds. Syndulla was one of Master Skywalker's more promising pupils. In no time at all, he had reached the top and was standing next to the little green adolescent.

Grogu smiled. Young Syndulla had met Master Skywalker as a child. He was now a grown man. Grogu sometimes wished his rate of growth was as fast as those surrounding him.

"Hey Grogu," Syndulla said, panting lightly from the climb.

"Hey yourself," Grogu said. "Master Skywalker sent you?"

"Yes. You've been out here meditating for too long."

"Really?" asked Grogu in a half-joking manner. He looked around and was surprised at how dark it was, the clouds covering the sky and the dying light. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours," Syndulla said. "It's almost night."

Grogu groaned as he grabbed his jacket from the ground and put it on.

"Master Skywalker says that it would be better for you to meditate in the temple," Syndulla said. He then added, "Or maybe in the grotto."

"I've tried that," Grogu said, beginning his descent down the hill with Syndulla. "I've still found no answers. What about your dreams?"

Syndulla shook his head. "Still can't make sense of them. Nothing but nonsense."

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Grogu beneath his breath.

The dreams were becoming more frequent and more confusing.

"Why do you think the Silver Hill is a better place to have a vision than the grotto?" Syndulla asked. "Or the temple?" he then added.

Grogu furled an eyebrow.

"I've always liked that spot," he replied. "The only hill here that has that silver grass. That species of grass is more common in the southern hemisphere. In the continent closest to Aquilae's southern pole. No one knows how it got to that hill, or why it hasn't grown beyond it. That grass was there before Master Skywalker arrived. Kira promised to take me south to see fields of those grasses in her T-16."

Syndulla shrugged his shoulders.

"That sounds like a good idea," he looked around. "I've only ever seen this corner of this continent within Aquilae. That's barely a third of the planet's surface."

Grogu smiled. "You should. Aquilae is beautiful all around."

"Everyone tells me that," Syndulla remarked.

By the time they reached the Jedi village, the night-lights were already on. As a matter of fact, light was flooding the training field. Grogu turned to look and see that one of the padawans, Rey of Jakku was practicing her sword swings with five training droids. Grogu's mood soured. It was improper for a Jed knight to dislike a padawan, but Grogu could not stand Rey. It was a sentiment shared by many others. Kira in particular despised Rey of Jakku; according to Master Skywalker's niece, Rey had attacked a crippled old man while his back was turned. Many said that her arrogance was only matched by her ignorance.

Master Skywalker had always said that Rey was powerful in the Force, but dangerously susceptible to the Dark Side. She needed guidance.

She needed a thrashing – that was everyone's opinion.

"What's she doing now?" Grogu asked.

"Master Skywalker had her perform several exercises before night falls. She's supposed to defend herself from those five droids without getting hit for five straight minutes, and without striking them down," the human-twi'lek hybrid said.

At that moment, they saw Rey grimace and strike one of the droids with her training saber. All of the droids turned red, and a great honk bellowed out.

"Again!" said Ahsoka Tano, sitting in a dark spot near the field. Grogu hadn't even noticed her there. He must have been really distracted not to notice. Though she was many years older than Master Skywalker, she didn't seem it. No one knew why.

Grogu turned to Syndulla. "Master Tano's been here for some time, right?"

"Rey has quite the temper," Syndulla replied sheepishly.

Grogu shook his head. The only good thing anyone could say about Rey was that she had a pretty face. Angry, arrogant, with a flat figure, only Master Skywalker would believe that he could make her better.

A sudden shriek from the nearby woods tore his attention away from the less than beloved padawan. Grogu turned to see several flying creatures flying high up into the air several miles away.

"Were those Dahocs?" Syndulla asked, muttering mostly to himself.

"Sounded like them," Grogu replied. "Though I've never heard one that shrieked like that."

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Syndulla, his eyes rolling this way and that as his attention was aimed at the forest.

No sooner had Syndulla spoken than Grogu felt the world, and perhaps the universe itself, collapse around him. It was a most horrific experience that defied explanation. Reality itself seemed to have been torn to shreds, as Grogu saw before hjim the land and sky melt together, and planets pass each other as if they were phantoms. Light itself exploded and seemed to have taste, while every cell in his body screamed out in unbelievable agony.

He thought that he was going to die. It took several moments after the worst effects had abated, that Grogu realized that he was still alive.

Of the natural, biological senses he possessed, the first to return was his sense of touch. Grogu was on the ground; he could feel his cheek pressed against the soil; a blade of grass tickling his lip; and pebbles trying to penetrate the skin of the palm of his hand. He felt the weight of his own body on the ground; he was lying on his chest while his back was turned to the sky.

Then came his sense of taste. He tasted dirt; his mouth was slightly open, and soil had somehow come into contact with his tongue. Grogu pushed himself off the ground and began to spit out anything he could.

Both his senses of hearing and sight returned, though distorted at first. He tried to look around, and saw Jacen Syndulla on his back, moaning.

Pain was coursing through his small body, but it was gradually dissipating. As soon as he could, Grogu was on his hands and knees; then, on his feet. He went to check up on Syndulla, who was still on the ground, writhing and squealing in pain.

"Syndulla, calm down!" Grogu said as he placed his hand on the forehead of the green-haired man. "It'll be alright."

However, Syndulla's suffering was not abating. To make matters worse, his shrieks seemed to sound more and more like jibberish.

He needed help, and quickly. Grogu turned to look at Ahsoka Tano and Rey.

He got quite the shock.

Rey was holding in her hand a real lightsaber – not the training instrument she was supposed to have – and swinging it at Master Tano. For her part, the Jedi Master was clearly having a hard time of evading Rey's clumsy attacks. Whatever had affected Syndulla and Grogu, had done the same to her. Indeed, Rey was the only one who didn't seem to have been weakened; whatever had occurred had pushed her straight towards the dark side, which even master Skywalker would admit was apt for Rey.

Many times, Grogu recalled master Skywalker telling him that the Dark Side was not stronger than the Light, only easier and quicker. This was evident as Grogu saw that Rey had regained her strength before anyone else.

Grogu slowly made his way towards them. He still felt a fundamental weakness. Grogu's legs were like jelly and his head seemed light; as his hand was shaking, he took hold of his lightsaber and ignited it. The blue blade quickly emerged. Normally, the blade would be still, but due to the circumstances, Grogu's unsteady hand had it bobbing up and down and side to side. Grogu hoped that he could recover in time.

Rey continued swinging her blade at Master Tano, who still struggled to stand. She was fortunate that Rey tended to handle a lightsaber the same way a thug would handle a stick or a club. With each of Rey's swings, Master Tano would duck or sidestep, but she was still weak from what had happened. Rey raised her arm and then swung her lightsaber downward, hoping to cut Master Tano in half. The Jedi master stepped to the side, dodging the attack in a neat manner, but her foot caught on a rock, and she fell down on her back. Elated, Rey held the lightsaber in her hand and was very eager to swing it at her master.

"Rey! You filthy Sithspit! What do you think you're doing?" Grogu suddenly demanded with a loud voice. It was enough to turn Rey's attention away from Master Tano. The padawan leapt to the air and landed a few steps away from Grogu.

Rey's degeneration was now more apparent. She was human, but her teeth now were sharp and decidedly inhuman. Her yellow eyes confirmed what Grogu already knew; Rey was fully immersed within the Dark Side.

She was so much faster than Grogu had anticipated. Rey's blade went down towards the top of Grogu's head; Grogu was barely able to lift his saber properly to block the swing while rolling towards the side. Leaping like he usually did was not an option. His legs still felt like jelly. Already, Grogu felt his head swim; he still hadn't recovered from whatever it was that had affected him and the others. With Rey attacking the little Jedi with such fury, it was difficult to maintain proper footing. For now, the best he could do was position his azure blade where it needed to be.

Relying on the Force was not going to be a solution, as hard as that was to accept. The Force seemed muddled. It didn't seem so for Rey though. The ease and speed of the Dark Side seemed to have an advantage over the Light in this circumstance.

Rey's wrath was easy to perceive. It fueled her every swing and thrust. With every second, her face was more distorted and inhuman.

"I hate you!" she screeched out, "You've always looked down on me as if I was nothing!"

On and on, Rey continued swinging the lightsaber in her hand, more like a club than an actual saber. Rey had always been overconfident in her connection with the Force, believing that she didn't need too much training.

Little by little, Grogu's connection with the Force was returning, but he was still too weak to adequately defend himself from the degenerated Rey. All he could do was block Rey's savage swings and try not to trip on his own small feet.

"Of course I've been looking down on you Rey," said Grogu with some resentment. "You're horrible, but you think you're better than everyone else. We'd all be better off without you here."

That truly infuriated Rey, and fueled by the Dark Side as she was, that just made her more dangerous. Her swings had more strength behind them while Grogu was still too weak to attack.

Grogu had made a mistake; but he still enjoyed giving Rey a piece of his mind. He had meant to do so for a long time.

Rey made a wide swing. Grogu could feel some of his strength returning, and he was sure that he could leap over Rey's blade and perhaps swing his own blade at her head. He tensed his muscles and prepared to make a leap. However, the ground beneath Grogu's foot was loose; he tripped and fell on his rear before he could lift himself off the ground. Rey laughed and started to wail on him as he lay on the ground. Grogu was only able to lift his saber and block each attack.

It was then that Grogu felt a sudden rush. It was now easier for him to hold his arm up and block Rey's clumsy attacks. Using the muscles on his back, Grogu quickly leapt upwards.

Grogu flew towards Rey, his foot extended in her direction. His heel connected with Rey's face. Rey stumbled back and nearly fell, but she remained on her feet.

"How dare you!" Rey exclaimed.

She stopped suddenly. Rey had felt the same presence which Grogu was feeling. However, Grogu had no need to turn his head to see.

"This is not going to go the way you think," Master Skywalker said grimly.

Rey let out a yelp and charged. Master Skywalker was standing there calmly, his hands empty. Rey leapt and was about to make a downward swipe with her lightsaber at the elder master's head.

Master Skywalker's expression never changed apart from a sigh. He held up his hand, and Rey was suddenly stopped in mid-air. With a single flex of his hand, he tossed her back. She fell down roughly on the ground.

Grogu's connection with the Force had now become strong enough to realize that the girl was dead. He got up and looked at his master as he walked past him. Even if his connection with the Force had remained weak, he could still see the heartbreak in the old man's eyes. He had seen Rey's potential fall to the Dark Side and had done his best to prevent it. He never wanted her to die. He had wanted her to be better.

With compassion and serenity, Master Skywalker knelt down and closed Rey's eyes. All of Grogu's attention was on the old man, so he nearly didn't notice Jacen Syndulla and Master Ahsoka Tano approaching.

"Master Tano, I think all of you need to go to the House of Healing," Master Skywalker said. Ahsoka Tano looked at Syndulla and then at Grogu. It was clear that neither had any choice on the matter.

Before going however, Master Tano stopped and turned to Master Skywalker.

"What about you? Did you feel it?" she asked.

The older man chuckled. "Very much. But I'm not going to let something like that keep me down."

Suddenly, Syndulla gasped. Everyone looked at him and saw that he was looking upwards. No one had noticed it before, but the clouds that had been covering the night sky were dissipating. The night sky was now clear, and everyone present could see what caused Syndulla such alarm. It was something none of them could comprehend. A band of stars in the night sky that shouldn't be there. A belt of stars which seemed to have come from somewhere else.

Although he was just as terrified as everyone else, Grogu was struck with realization. There was something that he had to do.

Later that night, after having a word with Master Skywalker, he took a ship, and flew it in the direction of the belt of stars in the sky.

---

Captain's log, Stardate 44437.9. The Enterprise has been assigned to the fleet escorting the Federation President's ship on a tour to every star system within the Federation. We are now orbiting New Paris, along with several other vessels, and members of the crew have been allowed shore leave on the planet. I myself have been invited to a dinner party with the President and my fellow colleagues in the city of Candide.

I can't help but wonder on the true purpose of the Federation President's tour within the Federation, considering my last encounter with Captain Maxwell.

Jean-Luc Picard materialized within one of the fanciest transporter rooms he had ever seen in his life. The walls were silver and gold with several jewels of varying sizes and colors encrusted on them. The lights were made to look like neo-classical French lamps.

A short man with a round belly, slicked back dark hair and a thin moustache approached Picard immediately. He wore an antiquated suit that made him look like a stereotypical penguin.

"Captain Picard I presume?" he asked.

"Yes. I take it that this is the Chez Voltaire," Picard replied. "A beautiful establishment if the design of this room is to be trusted."

The man smiled.

"As some have said, 'you ain't seen nothing yet'," the man replied. "I am Carloman, and I will take you to the penthouse."

Picard followed the little man out of the transporter room. The little man was right; the restaurant was splendid. The dining hall was immense, and decorated with Grecian style columns. The windows were large, allowing a magnificent view to the landscape outside; a nice and lovely garden cleverly illuminated by carefully placed lights and the moons above. The light fell upon the native flora, and was reflected back with a rainbow of fluorescent colors. As for the restaurant's patrons, they were clearly members of society's upper crust, dressed in the gaudy and fashionable manner expected from New Paris. Even in his dress uniform, Picard felt shabbily dressed.

"Here we are!" said Carloman, standing before an elaborately carved door made of the finest wood. The little man placed his hand on the head of an eagle that jutted out from the side of the door.

The doors slid into the walls, revealing a lift. Carloman waved his hand. Picard nodded his head and entered. The doors slid shut, Picard felt the slight pressure of acceleration, and the doors opened again, revealing a wide lounge with a bar and a large screen hanging from the wall, displaying an enthusiastic game of football between two local teams.

By some odd chance, Marty Batanides was there, standing in the middle of the lounge in her dress uniform. Her eyes widened as she saw Picard.

"Jean-Luc!" she said as Picard was walking out of the lift. "It's good to see you!"

"I can say the same," Picard said with an easy smile. Back in the academy, Picard had had a crush on her. Sometimes, he wondered what it would have been like if he had asked her out.

"How's the heart?" she asked. The question was asked with half a jest. She had been there when Jean-Luc was stabbed.

"Better," Picard replied.

"Good," Marty replied. Her expression then slightly changed. "Do you know what this is all about?"

"The dinner party? I assumed that the President wanted to lift his captains' morale," Picard answered. It was a lazy answer, and he knew Marty wasn't going to take it.

"Nice try," she said. "But my question had more to do with the escort fleet and the tour. Captain Perriot told me that you might have an idea."

"Perriot?" Picard's brow furled. He didn't remember that name, but he did indeed have something of a clue as to why the President was allowed to tour the Federation.

"He's the captain of the Portmanteau," Marty explained, "A Freedom class ship, which is probably why he isn't here. Certain classes of ships it would seem, make poor escort vessels, especially since…"

Marty's eyes widened when she realized what she was about to say, but Picard already knew what it was. She seemed to have a hard time speaking.

He raised his hand reassuringly. "That's alright."

"No it's not. I didn't…" she began to say.

"You didn't mean it. I know."

Picard's mind wandered back to that horrible time when he was assimilated by the Borg; when his knowledge was used against the Federation; when Locutus of Borg was responsible for the deaths or assimilation of over 11,000 people. It weighed heavily on him. So far, no one had ever approached him and spat on his face, but Picard was sure that there was at least one survivor of Wolf 359 who despised him, and wasn't afraid to show it.

He felt a presence approach, and expected said survivor to loom over him, but when Picard turned his head, he saw Admiral Paris standing before him. The balding man – though less so than Picard, one might hazard – stood before him and smiled.

"Captain Picard! Good to see you again!" he said, extending his hand.

Picard took the Admiral's hand. "It's an honor Admiral, but I must say that I am surprised to see you here. I was told you were on Earth."

Paris nodded. "In the Academy. The President invited me to join him in this tour. He thought that I needed to get rid of some of the rust."

Picard wondered if there was any other reason the admiral had accepted the President's invitation before he came to the conclusion that it was irrelevant and rudely invasive.

There was a chime.

"Our dinner is ready," the admiral said. Picard looked around. The restaurant's penthouse was clearly shaped like a boomerang; the lounge was at the middle, while both of the wings contained the dining halls. The admiral pointed to Picard's left. "Over there."

The trio walked into the dining hall where all of the other commanders, captains, commodores, and admirals were already standing behind their seats. Picard couldn't help but notice a tingling as he passed the threshold.

He wondered if there was some form of field to prevent acts of espionage. The more he thought of it, the more it seemed probable, and unwise not to install such a field.

Admiral Paris walked away towards his seat to the head of the large table, while Marty grabbed Picard's arm and guided him towards his own seat. Like every other officer present, he stood behind the chair and waited. As he did so, he observed the dining hall itself. It was rather large, and the table itself was big enough to seat over a hundred people. The walls themselves seemed to be made of transparent aluminum, which allowed for a splendid view of the exterior – one that was more colorful than the view seen from the great dining hall on the ground floor.

Seconds later, the Federation President entered, his inhuman frame being unmistakable from the rest of his staff. The Federation President sat down – in his own manner of doing so – and all of the captains and admirals did the same.

The dinner was a lively one. Picard interacted mostly with those who were physically closest to him, more specifically, Marty, who he was glad to see after so many years. Picard immediately noticed that the captains sitting next to him were those who did not have relatives that had died in Wolf 359. He supposed that Starfleet could not handle any confrontation in that regard at the moment. Picard certainly was happy to not be reminded of Locutus. He turned to look at New Paris' night sky and then at Marty; Picard then wondered when the more serious conversation would take place.

With that though, Admiral Paris – seated at the head of the table next to the President – stood up and audibly cleared his throat.

All commanding officers looked at him. They needed no more to finish their conversations and pay attention. Everyone at that table knew that there would be a serious announcement of some sort.

"Gentlebeings, officers of Starfleet," said the Admiral. He turned to the President. "Mr. President. You all are wondering why the President is touring the Federation, and with such a large escort fleet. Many of you have already guessed as to why, but allow me to confirm your suspicions. We all know that the Federation and Starfleet are in a very vulnerable position due to recent events."

Picard's brow furled. He knew too well what his role in the recent events were.

Admiral Paris picked up a glass of water, drank it, and then continued.

"To make matters worse, the actions of Captain Benjamin Maxwell, unacceptable as they were, brought to light a situation we all feared might happen – that in our moment of weakness, one of our enemies would take advantage. It would seem that the Cardassians are arming themselves, preparing for war. They may not intend to destroy us as the Borg would, but they do intend to deprive our citizens of their rights. We need to make a show of strength. That's not the only reason for this tour of course, nor are the Cardassians the only recipients of the message. We need to show the many beings living within the Federation that Starfleet can still protect them, and we need to show others such as the Romulans or Tholians that they cannot take advantage. We need to tell everyone that we are ready for any situation."

As the Admiral finished that sentence, Picard saw the stars behind him. Picard was never more horrified in his entire life.

The stars were dancing, twirling around as if they were glowflies flying around in a summer night. Picard wasn't the only one to notice. Nearly everyone else sitting at the table who didn't have their backs turned to a window noticed the astonishing phenomena. One said, "Good heavens!", while another invoked the name of a god unknown to humans. Many stood up. The Admiral and the President also stood up from their seats and turned to look at the terrifying spectacle.

Now the stars began to dance with more speed, swirling in spirographic trajectories, than moving away at a blinding speed, only to be replaced by other, unfamiliar stars. Then, suddenly, the stars merged together.

The night sky, until then illuminated by the stars and New Paris' moons, lit up with a yellow-greenish light, a light that was so intense that it was nearly blinding. It was now that Picard could hear the panicked screams of the people down below and outside. The light quickly abated, allowing Picard and the other officers present to open their eyes, but what they saw was equally unnerving.

Presently, the sky was constantly changing its color, from yellow to green and then to indigo. Oddly colored streaks danced in the sky like Earth's Aurora Borealis, forming strange, eldritch shapes.

It was over, rather suddenly. The night sky quickly returned to its natural color. The moons were where they were supposed to be; the stars were also in the sky, but every officer present could see that each star was a foreigner; that these stars were not the same that had been there before. More disturbing however, was that beyond those strange stars, there was entire galaxy that could easily be seen by the naked eye.

---

It was, to say the least, a terribly strange situation. Captain Janeway looked at Admiral Paris with some bewilderment and bemusement. He was a few years younger than he should have been, and he was wearing the uniform variant that was more popular in 2367. He stood within the Voyager's ready room, holding up a model of the Intrepid class ship.

"So this is what we cook up in Utopia Planitia," Admiral Paris said, before taking a moment to introspect, "Or what we're supposed to cook up. Well, that's changed, hasn't it?"

Janeway's lip curled upwards to form a smile of acceptance. A part of her still expected Braxton, Ducane, or any agent of Temporal Investigations to step in and put a stop to her interactions with Admiral Paris and the rest of Starfleet. In a manner of speaking, she and her crew were from the future, and on top of having been completed and launched in 2371 – four years into the Admiral's future – Voyager herself had been tentatively upgraded by the Borg drone One. However, the situation was drastically different. Whatever had happened to Voyager and to some parts of the Federation was not a simple journey through time. It was something far more exotic.

She still couldn't understand it herself. Voyager was still traversing the Delta Quadrant, on her way home to the Federation, when something had pulled her out of space. With astonishment and impotence, Janeway watched as a parade of myriad colors danced before her viewscreen; those within the mess hall reported the exact same thing.

The whole spectacle was finished quickly, but when it did, Janeway was shocked to find that Voyager was now some four hundred thousand kilometers away from New Paris, where a fleet had gathered.

To add to the confusion, everyone on New Paris and within that fleet claimed that it was stardate 44438.3 – that is to say, 2367. Janeway was still serving onboard the Billings in that year.

For a moment, Janeway wondered if she'd encounter her duplicate. It was a possibility. However, the Billings was not accounted for.

"Do you know what happened?" Janeway asked, picking up her mug of coffee from the table.

"We're still not sure, but our sensors are painting a strange picture. It would seem that something has transplanted several star systems and other cosmic bodies from the Milky Way galaxy, to…" Admiral Paris raised his arms, "…here. And before you ask, no, I don't know where here is. All I can say is taking into consideration background radiation, it seems that this is another universe, one identical to our own. Of course, some isolated starships have made the trip here, such as Voyager."

The Admiral leaned against the wall next to the viewport and looked out. He too was bewildered, but Janeway wondered if such bewilderment was tempered by the Admiral's reunion with his son.

Janeway joined him, mug in hand, and looked out to see, amidst several stars, a galaxy.

"That galaxy is a simple spiral galaxy," she observed. "Not a barred spiral galaxy like the Milky Way."

"That galaxy belongs in this universe," Paris replied in an almost murmur. He then turned to Janeway, "The holo-engineers working with me created a graphic representation of where we are in relation to that Galaxy. It's a nice image. Apparently, it would seem, based on our sensor readings, that the entire Milky Way galaxy has been transplanted away to form a ring around that galaxy."

Admiral gesticulated at the galaxy.

Janeway looked more closely at those stars which were not a part of the galaxy native to this universe. The Milky Way itself contained within its space numerous dangerous and technologically advanced species. Being lost in the Delta Quadrant had forced Janeway to come into contact with many new civilizations; she had encountered the Borg more times than she would have liked.

"All of the Milky Way?" she asked.

Paris smirked, and it was then that Janeway saw how much the Admiral resembled his son.

"In a way, yes," he replied cryptically, and then, even more cryptically, he added, "In another way, no."

Janeway's eyebrow raised upwards. She took one last gulp of her coffee.

"I don't understand," she said.

The Admiral chuckled. "I didn't either. Not at first. But it is simple, once you get right to it. You see, every star, every nebula, every whatever within this ring of ours has come from the Milky Way. Our sensors have scanned every cosmic body thoroughly, and there's no doubt that they're all from the Milky Way. It's just that most of these cosmic bodies are not from our Milky Way."

Paris let that sink in. He didn't really need to; Janeway understood instantly.

"Several bits of the Milky Way, across several parallel universes, were dragged to this ring?" she said.

"Yes. I don't know if this universe has a version of the Milky Way galaxy though. If it does, the time is wrong or the Milky Way is too far away; maybe both," said the Admiral.

Janeway mulled over the implications.

"I wonder what will happen if we find two versions of the planet Vulcan."

Admiral Paris vigorously shook his head. "We've found no signs of duplicates within this ring. Each star, planet and other cosmic body is unique. There's only one New Paris, one Deneva, and so forth. Of course, it seems that all of these planets and stars are separated from each other by distances of time. You were taken some four years into my future, but Deneva still thinks it's 2365. My son is an older, wiser man. That isn't all.

"Kathryn," said the Admiral with a weary tone, "We've been receiving strange emissions. Chatter we can and cannot recognize. It would seem that not every version of the Milky Way galaxy had a Starfleet or a United Federation of Planets, but they do have different versions of humanity, operating under different forms of technology, with different histories to our own. I'm afraid that we might clash with some of them."

"What about Starfleet?" Janeway asked with concern. "The Federation? We're here, after all."

Paris nodded. "Yes we are, as well as twenty-seven star systems with their own fleets and flotillas. Fortunately, we're rather close to one another. The Federation can at least defend itself."

"What about Earth?" Janeway asked. Paris let out a guffaw.

"We've tried to contact them using the normal channels, but we've always failed," he replied.

"So Earth hasn't been brought here," Janeway concluded.

Paris now shook his head. "Our people have already identified Sol within this ring. It's some distance away from Federation space and I have no doubt that Earth is orbiting that star," Paris took a deep breath. "I don't think it's our Earth."

---

The young Pinlighter took his seat within the planoforming room of the Wu-Feinstein, his yellow hair tussled but his fair face unscratched.

"Tevildo didn't even touch you I see!" Vin Tsinco said lightheartedly with that roguish smile of his that had all sorts of women swoon, from aristocratic women who may or may not have been Ladies of the Instrumentality to the ordinarily and uniformly pretty women that were still made in the headquarters of the People Programmer at An-Fang. He could also charm C-girls, D-girls and goodness knew what other sort of undergirls; but those didn't really count as they smelled of romance all the time, except for the first five minutes after they had had hot antiseptic showers.

Usually, the young Pinlighter would have an equally lighthearted response, a boast about how he bested the meanest cat to ever be a Partner, but not today. Today, he simply nodded and waved a hand.

"Hey Ted!" said Bat-Bee-Heeroo from another seat. He already had his pinset on and it looked warm. The pinset seemed to shine like ancient royal jewels around Bat-Bee-Heeroo's head.

The young Pinlighter turned his head in response.

"What?" the young Pinlighter asked.

"Is it your birthday today?" Bat-Bee-Heeroo asked.

That simple question nearly made the youngster gag. It took Ted a lot of effort to keep everyone else from hiering his most inner thoughts on the subject. Unfortunately, he couldn't lie. His age was registered, though his origin was kept secret.

"Yes," Ted replied curtly.

"Why so glum?" Vin Tsinco asked. "How old are you? You're not an old man are you?"

Every Pinlighter laughed. They all knew each other. They knew that Ted was no old man. He wasn't even – according to some worlds – an adult yet. Ted had joined the crew of Wu-Feinstein when he was twelve.

"Yeah! How old are you anyway? Seventeen? Fifteen?" probed another Pinlighter. This one spoke in Inglish, but not the sort Ted remembered from his childhood. Ever since the Rediscovery of Man had begun, old languages and nationalities had been resurrected. Many had begun to learn Inglish, but it was the version of the language that had been spoken around Meeya-Meefla. Ted himself had learned to speak Inglish in that way. By now, it was second nature to him. However, sometimes, when he was appropriately riled up, he would speak Inglish in the same way he had when he was a child. That was actually very dangerous – the wrong people might hear him and wonder what he was doing out here in the Up-and-Out. Ted made sure not to be riled up, or speak whenever he was.

(He could speak in another language when he was riled up, but that would be unbritish, and he really couldn't anyway.)

"Sixteen," Ted said, again, in a curt way.

"Sixteen?" Vin Tsinco said in disbelief. "What's the problem with being sixteen?"

If only they knew. Sadly, they couldn't. No one should know. No one could know. No one could know that for Ted, it was the Day of Days. If they did, nothing good would come of it.

"I wanted to be fifteen for a bit longer," Ted replied. He kept the truth from them. It wasn't easy. Every Pinlighter including Ted himself was a telepath. But he got from his Grampy a special talent to keep people from hiering his thoughts without the use of any special device. No one, not Vin Tsinco, Bat-Bee-Heeroo, or anyone else would see or hear the giggling, the endless laughing, followed by the absolute silence.

No one could hear the song ringing in Ted's head. It was an old song. Everyone back home knew it either by heart or in part. Ted knew it well, because it was about him and others like him:

This is the house of the long ago,

Where the old ones murmur an endless woe,

Where the pain of time is an actual pain

And things once known always come again.

Out in the garden of death, our young

Have tasted the valiant taste of fear;

With muscular arm and reckless tongue.

They have won and lost and escaped us here.

This is the house of the long ago.

Those who die young do not enter here.

Those loving on know that hell is near.

The old ones who suffer have willed it so.

Out in the garden of death, the old

Look with awe at the young and bold.

"You'll want to be sixteen when you're seventeen, I'll bet," said Vin Tsinco "Do you want to do this forever?"

The question was asked in a half-serious tone.

Ted wanted to yell out: Yes! I want to stay here forever! I want to stay here instead of giggling on the gray grass. Instead of giggling and giggling until I'm dead!

The young Pinlighter's telepathic barrier opened a bit, in spite of all of his precautions. Fortunately, his colleagues could only hier the words I want to stay here forever!

"You can't do that!" one of the younger Pinlighters said, a girl of about twelve. The same age he had been when he first boarded the Wu-Feinstein.

Vin Tsinco looked at Ted with concern and then he smiled again.

"I know that we all say that Pinlighting is a hell of a way to earn a living, but I think Ted here could. Tevildo can't scratch him and he only needs a week to recover after half an hour of pinlighting, while us bozos need a minimum of two months in the hospital," the Pinlighter said.

The door to the planoforming room opened. The Stop-Captain entered, followed shortly by the Go-Captain. Every Pinlighter sat back against their chairs, in the ready position.

Not since the days of Magno Taliano, had the Wu-Feinstein had such a fine Go-Captain. Dita from the Great South House came close, but she was a girl, and Magno Taliano's niece; her greatness had derived from his. Magno Taliano was a man who could sail through hell with the muscles of his left eye alone. A man who could plow space with his living brain if the instruments failed, which did happen, much to the regret of everyone save for his wife, Dolores Oh.

Wu-Feinstein's Go-Captain was in every way Magno Taliano's equal. A ship like the Wu-Feinstein needed Go-Captains like him. The Wu-Feinstein was a janosoidal ship, one of the finest of its class to ever exist. Built to resemble an ancient palace called Mount Vernon, it wasn't encased within metal like many other ships; a rigid and self-renewing field of force protected the passengers within from the Great Pain of Space. All controls save for the golden ceremonial lever were electronic or telepathic. Any Go-Captain charged with a janosoidal ship was subject to rare and overwhelming strains, for he controlled the ship with the impulses of his very brain.

The Go-Captain was a tall man, and Ted envied his height. If only he were as tall as the Go-Captain he'd be home and unafraid. Rich would be sitting in this chair instead. Or giggling on the gray grass until he died.

Ted realized then how selfish his thoughts were. Rich had never been mean to him; he didn't deserve to be exiled, or to die – though if he did so, he'd be more brave about it than Ted was. Ted was ashamed of himself.

But he couldn't help himself. Rich and Ted were born on the same day. They were twins – identical twins. Or rather, they were supposed to be identical. Rich was tall and strong – a proper subject of Her-Majesty-The-Queen (wherever she was). Ted was a runt. Looking at Rich was like looking at a cruel mirror that reminded you of what you could have been and not what you actually were. A reminder that life ended at the age of sixteen because you just didn't cut it.

The young Pinlighter checked the barrier surrounding his thoughts. Not a thing had leaked out. Not one of his colleagues knew. None knew his fear or shame.

With steady steps, the Go-Captain walked to his chair and looked at his Pinlighters, studying them carefully. Ted remained still in his seat as the Go-Captain's gaze passed over him. The Go-Captain turned to the Stop-Captain who was by the doorway of the planoforming room. The Stop-Captain bowed. The Go-Captain nodded and then asked the usual questions that any Go-Captain asked before embarking upon a journey in the Up-and-Out.

"Sir and colleague, is everything ready for the janosoidal effect?"

The Stop-Captain's bow was more obsequious. "Truly ready, sir and master."

"The Locksheet in place?"

"Truly in place, sir and master."

"The passengers secure?"

"The passengers are secure, numbered, happy and ready, sir and master."

At last came the question that concerned the Pinlighters the most, but which was directed at the Stop-Captain. "Are my Pinlighters warmed with their pinsets and ready for combat?"

"Ready for combat, sir and master." The Stop-Captain withdrew. The Go-Captain sat in his chair and pressed down the lever.

Like boiling water at the base of a waterfall, the dark, unforgivable void of space became visible to all those within the planoforming room. Ted could see it, and he could feel it – the horror, the great pain of space, the darkness within which nightmares lay in wait. He was surrounded by it, within a cold cubic grid. He could feel Tevildo's wicked mind; the creature itself was by now in a spherical carrier that was the size of a football, a few hundred miles away from the Wu-Feinstein. They were both connected to each other through telepathy, and the aid of the pinsets that both wore. Like always, Tevildo couldn't wait.

I want to fight! I want to fight! I want to kill!

Tevildo's thoughts and desires flooded Ted's mind. The cat was psychotic. Of all the partners, Ted had to draw him. Whenever Ted went to get the nasty little thing out of his cage, he would always pounce, claws out, maw open with spit dripping from his canines. Ted would always catch the cat and keep him from scratching his face, though he could never stop Tevildo from somehow messing up his hair; of all the cats that were Partners, Tevildo was the only one that could draw blood from Ted's skin. At times, Ted let Tevildo do this. The blood made him seem more normal, like his fellow colleagues who had also had to handle Tevildo.

Suddenly, Ted felt the ship skip. When he first started his new life amongst the stars, wandering across the Up-and-Out, looking out for Rats, planoforming felt so weird. Now it didn't feel like anything much that mattered. It felt like the twinge of a mild electric shock or the ache of a sore tooth bitten on for the first time. Or like a slightly painful flash of light against the eyes. Just that. Once that was done, the warm star that had been nearby was gone. Ted found himself surrounded by the dark void.

This was where they lived. Away from the warmth of stars. Away from their light.

The Rats.

Everyone else called them Dragons. They feasted upon human minds and souls. It was why Pinlighters were needed. It was why the Pinlighters needed the Partners.

Dragons were described thusly in an old book which Ted had read on a planet called Linebarger:

…something like the Dragons of ancient human lore, beasts more clever than beasts, demons more tangible than demons, hungry vortices of aliveness and hate compounded by unknown means out of the thin tenuous matter between the stars.

Only light could kill them. The most intense light. The light of stars – of suns. That's why they lived and attacked and feasted in the dark void of the Nothing-At-All, and away from any sun.

The first Pinlighters worked alone. Using the pinsets that enhanced their telepathic power. Back then, the pinsets were electronically connected to dirigible bombs of light.

The Dragon however, learned. These were intelligent monstrosities, not stupid ones. It was getting harder and harder for the Pinlighters to fight off the Dragons. Ships would arrive at their destination, their Pinlighter wearing burned-out pinsets, and all of the passengers – men, women and children – either dead or driven insane or something that was beyond insane, their minds being filled with vivid spouting columns of fiery terror bursting from the primordial id itself, the volcanic source of life.

Then the Partners arrived.

They turned the tide.

And changed everything.

Partners were cats, specially chosen cats who could be telepathically linked with a Pinlighter. During a fight with the Dragons, one Pinlighter was linked to one Partner. This form of telepathic connection was achieved thanks to the pinsets which both the Pinlighter and the Partner wore. Partners were generally amiable towards the minds with which they were paired; they were willing to die for them and recognized the superiority of human thought, even if they thought that human minds were overcomplicated, messy, and not that big of a deal.

Partners acted faster than any man could. Ted remembered the old adage: men had the intellect, partners had the speed. Human intelligence combined with feline agility was lethal to the Dragons. Soon, the cats that were the Pinlighters' Partners would see the Dragons in a different way, and give them a different designation. The Partners started to call the Dragons, Rats. Not long afterwards, the Pinlighters did the same.

A strange sensation suddenly pricked the back of Ted's mind. He wasn't alone. The other Pinlighters and the Partners felt the same. Something odd was about to happen. It was fortunate that the sensation was merely slight, as the next caught Ted's attention, and caused Tevildo to feel great elation. Terror that almost felt like a stab to the gut. A Rat was nearby. Ted turned his telepathic mind to see it.

He was shocked. There was more than one Rat, their horrid, shapeless forms easily discernable to the Pinlighters and their Partners. Twenty-two of them against six Pinlighters and six Partners.

The enemy had formed a posse.

Ted quickly directed Tevildo to the nearest one. Tevildo's psychotic glee was overwhelming; sometimes, one could feel the thoughts and emotions of other Pinlighters and Partners. Tevildo was different in that he demanded his Pinlighter to focus all attention on him. Otherwise, the bloodthirsty cat would spend all of his photonuclear pinlights on a single Rat. Ted had to strengthen his link with the cat; make the tether thicker – make the link an unbreakable leash. As far as Tevildo was concerned, he wasn't in a carrier flying through the void, or launching photonuclear bombs at a cosmic horror; he was in the forest, hunting some wild animal with his claws and teeth.

Bloodthirsty as he was, Tevildo was also accurate. He hit the first Rat with a single pinlight, dead center. Ted had him move on to the next one, so he wouldn't waste any time playing with his victim. Another bullseye from Tevildo and another Rat was destroyed.

His colleagues were similarly successful. Great flashes of light erupted, and Rats burst apart. Tevildo killed three more until only one was left. Ted decided to let the little monster have his kill. Tevildo released his remaining pinlights into the Rat, disintegrating it completely.

Victory however, was short lived. Even as Ted was reeling in his maniac of a Partner, a crack suddenly opened in space itself.

A great telepathic scream rang out. Harrowing and soul splitting, it was far worse than anything any Rat could do to a human mind.

Horror and pain coursed through Ted's body, from his spine to his head. Senseless images flooded Ted's mind. What he saw with his mind was maddening.

He saw a planet – a dead planet – that was somehow familiar. To Ted's shock, he observed that this planet was the same size as Manhome, Old Old Earth itself. Upon it was a single city, and within that city Ted saw…

He saw pure evil. The likes of which he had never felt before, not even from a Rat.

Just like that, in less than a second, the planet raced by, but it was surrounded by a field of energy that pulled and tore. Ted felt something like a hand fall down upon him.

Amidst all of this, he could hear Tevildo shriek out in horror and pain as well. Ted had never heard or felt such a storm of emotions. He saw Tevildo, not with his eyes, but with his mind, and the cat was moving around in unnatural ways, more like a squid than a vertebrate and then curling into a ball. Within the space of a microsecond, Tevildo was coming in his direction, eyes glowing, and sharp teeth shining, climbing down the telepathic tether which connected the two, which Ted had made so strong.

Ted was knocked down, and he fell. But he didn't touch the ground. He continued to fall and fall. Darkness surrounded him.

"Open your eyes!" he heard a voice say. It was a feminine voice, one with authority. It was also spoken in Inglish – an Inglish close to the version spoken in Meeya-Meefla – but Inglish nonetheless. Moreover, the Inglish was spoken as if it had always been spoken and not learned telepathically, from a machine or by some other means.

Ted opened his eyes. He was startled by what he saw: an endless field of gray grass. Frightened, he looked around. He saw a familiar house, and slightly over there, he saw the giant, sick sheep that produced the precious santaclara drug, more commonly known as stroon. A drug thousands of worlds clamored for, if not more. A drug that couldn't be synthesized or duplicated. A drug that gave whomever took it immortality.

(Though, if one did take so much of the stuff as to be immortal, the effects would be weird, so most just chose to live a few thousand years instead.)

Ted knew where he was. He was on a planet booby-trapped with death and things worse than death.

Oh dear! He was home! The Station of Doom! Ted had to run! He had to hide! They were going to drag him to the Giggle Room!

Suddenly, a familiar female voice – a cousin's voice – sang out:

We kill to live, and die to grow –

That's the way the world must go!

He turned. He ran. He tripped down and fell on his face. When he got up again, he was no longer outside. He was inside Grampy's secret hideout, where a lot of curious and luxurious things had survived the Clean Sweep and were kept hidden. Only members of Ted's family could enter this hidden place. He looked at the drama cubes and picked up one of them. He shook it, but instead of watching an old play, he saw himself standing in the gray field, laughing.

Ted dropped the cube, and suddenly he was in the Palace of the Governor of Night, an indestructible edifice built by the mysterious Daimoni, which old Wild William MacArthur had bought before he got drunk and broke his neck.

Before him was a computer – an old mechanical computer with a cleaned red casing. Not at all like the new ones that had animal brains built into them. The old god-machine. The only pure computer on the planet. A computer connected to the defense net of the planet. This old computer could never make a mistake unless it was malfunctioning, and it never malfunctioned.

Ted found himself asking the same question he had asked five years before:

"Will I giggle and die in the Giggle Room?"

The computer answered the same way as it did then:

"Yes. You will not live beyond your sixteenth year."

The young Pinlighter suddenly swooned.

"Open your eyes!" he heard the feminine voice say again. Ted opened them.

He saw Lord Redlady there standing before him, an old friend of the family. Lord Redlady was from another world and had once been a Lord of the Instrumentality. Not that far away was a ship.

"It can't be helped. You're going up there. To the Up-and-Out. I can get you working as a Pinlighter. Not an easy job, but you'll do fine," Lord Redlady said.

This was a memory. A memory of how he left home when he was eleven. Only then did Ted realize that someone was prying through his mind.

"Open your eyes!" the woman's voice said again. And he did.

He was on a scented lawn, which Ted quickly noticed belonged to the passenger area of the Wu-Feinstein. He sat up with a jolt and looked around. The last thing he needed was for one of them to spot him. Maybe they'd ignore him because they would be on vacation, but then again, maybe not. Even on vacation, using the uncountable wealth they possessed but which was never enjoyed back home, their eyes would be sharp.

No one was around however.

No one but her.

Ted was shocked as he looked at the woman before him.

She was tall, many times taller than he was, and quite pleasing to the eye. Trim and taut in black glamorette, emphasizing her smoothly rounded hips, and with a cocky little black toque on her riot of crimson curls, she was the very image of an ancient goddess. Every passenger on board had been nice to look at, Ted was sure, but this woman was a knockout, and she felt real to the young Pinlighter. Few people within the Instrumentality of Man had that quality. No one made in An-fang had natural beauty, only the dull manufactured sort one finds on a conveyer belt. No citizen of the Instrumentality ever noticed this – but the young Pinlighter had; he had since he had left his home and went to the up-and-out and became a citizen himself.

Much to Ted's astonishment and fright, the woman grabbed Ted by the arm and helped him up, as if he were the helpless maiden and she were the dashing knight in shining armor.

"What's your name?" she asked.

Ted suddenly felt a great sense of unease. It was the way she asked it. She wanted his whole name, not just a scrap of it.

"What's your name?" she asked again. "Your real name."

Ted wanted to turn and run. He couldn't. The woman was holding him by his arms and her strength was incredible. She was as strong as…

No. She was stronger. There was no way she could be one of them anyway. Everything about her shouted the opposite.

"Do you know your real name?" the woman insisted, more forcibly.

"Of course I know my name," replied the Pinlighter. The woman had riled him up, so he spoke Inglish the same way he had as a child. He quickly realized his mistake, and tried to shift his manner of speaking Inglish to the Meeya Meefla accent.

It was all so very clumsy.

"Tell me your name," the woman said. "Please. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to help you"

There was so much earnestness in her voice, and she was so lovely. Ted couldn't help it at all.

"Roderick Frederick Ronald Arnold William MacArthur McBan to the hundred and fifty-third." Ted felt defeat, but also, relief.

He knew his name. He knew who he was.

He was Ted McBan. Some would be tempted to call him Rod, but his Grampy was Rod. Everyone back home just called him Ted.

He was a McBan and the McBans were the masters of the Station of Doom. They were kind of a big deal in Norstrilia, which was good enough reason for no Norstrilian to know he was sixteen and still alive – living and breathing in the Up-and-Out.

"What's happening?" Ted asked. He was aware that something was wrong. A Rat couldn't have gotten to him. Tevildo and the other Partners had killed them all. He then remembered what he had seen. "What was that thing?"

"I wish I knew myself," the gorgeous woman said. "But right now I have to help you out. Are you QX with that?"

Ted had no idea what she was talking about, but he nodded nonetheless. He knew she was trying to help him, but he didn't know what sort of help he needed.

The woman locked her arm around his and lead him to a part of the lawn where several pictures were suspended in mid-air. Ted didn't quite pay attention to them yet, he was feeling the rush of coming into physical contact with such a beautiful woman.

"Easy there Rod," she admonished him, slapping his hand, but in an amicable way.

"Sorry," the young Pinlighter sheepishly said. He then added, perhaps with some more confidence so as to impress the lady, "My Grampy was Rod. I'm Ted."

The woman smiled and chuckled. She then pointed at the pictures suspended in mid-air, now close enough to be seen clearly and in full detail.

Ted was unnerved by what he saw. One pictured showed the dead planet fly by the Wu-Feinstein, its energies grabbing at the janosoidal ship and crushing Tevildo's carrier. The same picture showed Tevildo's spirit flying back to the Wu-Feinstein like a comet with a cat's head. Another picture showed Ted himself, seated, but his face was deformed into a beastly expression. Every Pinlighter was jumping out of their seats; the Go-Captain and Stop-Captain were keeping the door open so that everyone could make their escape. The following picture showed an enraged Ted tearing the doors apart, which should be impossible. The final one showed Ted fighting against three men who were as big as normal Norstrilians, and looked to be just about as strong.

"What's that?" Ted asked, even though he was afraid of the answer.

The woman's voice was comforting, but Ted could feel that she had bad news to give.

"That's you Ted. It seems that the cat Tevildo's spirit has entered your body and taken it over, and now," she pointed at the last picture "and now you're fighting three Valerians. Quite the feat actually. But if this keeps up, you'll lose yourself. Tevildo will take over. You will disappear. Do you understand what I'm telling you Ted? And if you disappear, those Valerians will have to kill you. Do you understand?"

That he did understand.

"You need to remain calm Ted," she said, "You have quite the fight ahead of you."

Suddenly, the young Pinlighter's attention was drawn to a dark shadow on the perfumed lawn of the Passenger Pavilion. He turned to have a better look. He recognized the creature immediately. It was Tevildo. Black and bloody Tevildo.

Except that Tevildo was never so large as to be twice the size of a lion, with a mouth big enough to bite a man's head off. His limbs were thick with sinew and muscle; his claws, more closely resembling steal daggers, were drawn out.

Tevildo glared hungrily, his eyes glowing like great balls of fire.

"Stay out of this," Ted said to the woman, not aware of how amused she was by the suggestion. He walked towards the giant black cat. With every step, he could hier Tevildo's thoughts echo throughout his mind.

Stupid man, stupid man, stupid man, I am stronger, stronger, than man, stupid man.

Tevildo began to curl up his immense body into an enourmous ball. Ted knew enough about Tevildo to know what was about to happen next. Every single time Ted had taken Tevildo out of his cage, the animal had always done the same damned thing.

"Stupid cat," said Ted as Tevildo made a tremendous leap at him. Ted was fast enough to step to the side; Tevildo landed on the space next to him, and dug his claws into the scented lawn.

However, Tevildo turned quickly, and stood on his hind legs, towering over the Norstrilian runt. The beast quickly fell upon him; Ted was fast enough to catch the cat by his wrists. The giant cat pushed back and leaned the entirety of his weight against McBan, forcing the young Pinlighter to strain the muscles of his back, just in order to prevent his spine from snapping like a twig.

Ted could do this. He was a Norstrilian.

What was a Norstrilian? Was a Norstrilian special? Not really. They just happened to be the most dangerous people in the galaxy, and perhaps beyond that. A lone Norstrilian man could tour the vastness of space unarmed, and kill almost anything. Norstrilians were feared by governments; ordinary citizens of the Instrumentality of Man hated or worshipped them. Norstrilians may have looked simple but the looks were a snare and a delusion. Thousands of years of unprovoked attack made a people that looked as simple as sheep have minds as subtle as serpents. They had started out tough, and they only got tougher; stronger than any men had ever been before. That happens when you try to hurt and rob people for three thousand years. People get obstinate. They avoid strangers except for sending out spies and an occasional tourist. They don't mess with people and they are death, death inside and out and turned over twice, if you mess with them.

Still, Tevildo was much stronger than any creature that size had any right to be. Even though he was a runt, Ted McBan would have still been capable of wrestling a grizzly bear to the ground, but this was proving to be more difficult.

Back and forth they went, grunting and growling. Anyone not looking at the young man's countenance – or listening to the sounds of anger each one produced – would have thought that he was dancing with a large beast, rather than wrestling with him. Ted would take two steps forwards and then two steps back, as did Tevildo, the strength of each waxing and waning like the tides of a world with a rapidly revolving moon. Like a horrible mockery of a waltz, they turned, Ted's hands tightly closed around the cat's wrists, trying his best to keep the animal from crushing him in a hug, or the long and sharp claws from tearing his skin. The young Ted's muscles were on fire.

They crashed against several chairs in the picnic area, knocking them down to the floor with such violence as to break them apart. Tevildo suddenly pushed Ted against a statue of an ancient god holding up a globe over his head, shattering it completely, and forcing the globe to roll away. Ted felt the full brunt of that on his back, which burned with an incredible intensity, but he remained on his feet.

Ted was beginning to lose hope. Every muscle in his body was beginning to burn. Every one of his muscles strained to fight off the monster. With great effort, he managed to push Tevildo slightly more forward; Ted took the chance to deliver as strong a kick as he could to the monster's gut. Such a kick would have burst open the belly of an elephant, but Tevildo didn't even seem to feel it. Ted tried to kick again and again, hoping to hurt his adversary.

One poorly timed kick was enough to have Ted nearly lose his balance. He managed to remain on his feet, but Tevildo took the chance to lower his head, and open his mouth, clasping at the young Pinlighter's skull with teeth the size of railway spikes.

Unimaginable pain coursed through Ted's body. McBan let out a scream that was almost a roar. The young Pinlighter forced himself to regain some control. But his head was numbing all over. It was a miracle that he wasn't dead on the floor already. He owed his survival to his Norstrilian heritage; any other human would have been torn apart, but Ted's body wasn't so easy to chew on.

Amidst the buzzing in his brain, he took a quick evaluation of his predicament. The giant cat's lower canines were now pressed against Ted's forehead, right above his eyebrows. The upper canines were pressed against the back of his head.

He could feel the pressure increasing. Tevildo was going to slowly crush his skull and turn his brain into a pulp. His Norstrilian skull was withstanding the pressure so far, but that wouldn't last indefinitely. Tevildo seemed to have endless reserves of energy.

A flurry of images played out before Ted. He saw Lord Redlady, who had perhaps risked his own life to smuggle Ted out of Norstrilia. He saw his mother and father, who had definitely done the same. Redlady could not have smuggled Ted out without their knowledge. He saw Rich. He had been angry at his brother for so long, but Ted knew that his brother had always cared for him and was not at fault. He could suffer as well because Ted didn't have the guts to giggle and die like any decent runt would do.

Then, a voiceless whisper made its way into his mind. He was reminded of the other part of his life, the one which had only lasted four years. Four years of service was a long time for a Pinlighter. He hadn't survived so long to get killed by a rogue Partner.

The young Norstrilian felt a surge of anger.

He began to push the cat back and back.

The redheaded lady was still there, holding a small cage in her hand. She didn't seem at all afraid.

"Put him in here!" she said, pointing at the cage.

He let go of the large cat's wrists. As the claws immediately began to work on Ted's torso, the Pinlighter's hands grabbed Tevildo's jaws, one hand going to the lower mandible, while the other went to the upper.

Blood trickled down Ted's eyes. Tevildo was shredding the suede jacket of his uniform, and scratching at his tough Norstrilian skin. He suddenly felt a sharp pain, as one of the claws managed to make a gash in the side of his torso.

Tevildo was beginning to draw too much blood for Ted's liking.

That enraged the young Pinlighter, and he felt a surge of strength that was enough to push the monster's jaw from his head. With his grip firmly on the animal's jaw, Ted violently pushed Tevildo's body away from him, away from his reach.

He continued to clasp the animal's jaws tightly. Blood came out were the skin came into contact with the monster's sharp teeth. Ted ignored the blood pouring from his hands, and he ignored the pain.

With one hand, with the full might of the muscles on his fingers, Ted closed Tevildo's jaw tight. Then, with his free hand, Ted punched the monstrous cat three times before pushing him towards the small cage.

Tevildo's claws continued to tear and rend, but Ted ignored that and continued to push, until the big cat was right on top of the small cage. Then, using all of his strength, Ted heaved and pushed Tevildo into the cage, squishing and compacting the monster's body. Tevildo growled and snarled, but there was nothing that he could do. By the end of it, Tevildo was a giant head sticking out of a cage that was just big enough to fit a normal cat. Tevildo opened his maw and tried to catch Ted's hand between his sharp teeth. Ted was quicker; he curled his hand into a fist and used it to smash the black puss.

At last, Ted pressed the palm of his hand against Tevildo's wet nose, and pushed the rest of him into the cage. The redheaded woman was quick, and closed the cage by sliding the barred door down.

Exhausted from the fight, Ted looked down at himself. His suede uniform had been torn to shreds. There were several scratch marks along the sides of his torso. Miraculously there was only one significant gash located on the left side of his torso from which blood poured out profusely. Blood was coming out of the gashes on his head. Several times, he had to wipe the blood from out of his eyes. Much of it was dripping down to his face, and Ted could imagine that he looked like a mess. He needed to find a doctor, but then remembered there wasn't any. He fell down on the lawn, on his back, and looked at the cage which held Tevildo. The cat was back to his normal size. He stared at Ted with those incandescent eyes of his; the young Pinlighter almost felt respect from the little monster.

The tall woman approached and knelt over Ted.

"Everything's fine now. You did it," said the crimson haired goddess with a warm smile.

"Dame and mistress," Ted said, looking up at the redheaded woman. "Could you please tell me your name?"

The woman's smile widened. "Kathryn Kinnison."

She placed her hands on his eyes. Oddly enough, it felt like a knock-out punch to the face.

When he opened his eyes again, Ted McBan found himself lying in a strange hospital bed, in a strange room on a strange planet. The redhead was sitting by his side, her beauty more real and evident. Behind her, standing next to the door with his arms folded, Ted McBan could see a man that was as large as a fully grown Norstrilian, with a face only a mother could love; two black eyes, two stitched gashes, a busted lip and a recently broken nose adorned his rough features.

Ted McBan could now see the reality for what it was. The fight he had had with Tevildo had happened solely within his mind. Yet it was so real. So much more real than a dreamy. He could even feel pain all over his body, and his face felt swollen, as if he had been in an actual brawl. He looked at his hands and couldn't help but notice that his knuckles were badly bruised as if he had been pounding them at an indestructible wall erected by the Daimoni themselves – and nothing could destroy anything the Daimoni had ever built.

"Good morning Ted," said the lovely redhead. "Are you alright?"

Ted didn't have the strength to speak. All he could do was grunt.

"I'm glad to see you well," Ms. Kinnison then turned back to momentarily look at the big man by the door. "That big man over there is Lieutenant Visser. He was in a horrible fight with a cat-boy a few days ago. Must have lasted about five hours straight if not more! That's why he's so battered! But you shouldn't worry about him. He's a Valerian superman, though I must say that the cat-boy certainly gave him a run for his money," Kathryn Kinnison turned to Ted and smiled. "You don't smash a Valerian's face like that without having some amount of strength yourself!"

Ted McBan was glad to see the beautiful redhead smile. He wanted to communicate properly instead of just grunting, so he tried to spiek to her; it was then that he realized that something was wrong. He tried to hier, but he couldn't.

Kathryn Kinnison placed her hand over Ted's forehead and now frowned with concern.

"Spieking and hiering are words you use for telepathic communication?" Ms. Kinnison asked. "Like when you spiek, you are speaking out a thought, and when you hier, you're hearing someone else's thoughts?"

Ted McBan nodded.

"I'm very sorry Ted," she said looking pained. "But during your fight with Tevildo, your brain was damaged. You have lost your ability to communicate telepathically in a way that can be of any use."

Ted shuddered and groaned. The redhead then stroked the boy's blond hair gently.

"But don't worry. It's not the end of the world, and you'll be able to hier and spiek soon enough. I promise you," said the redhead. As she spoke, he couldn't help but believe her. He could in no way doubt the woman's sincerity.

For whatever reason Ted McBan then looked at the large man by the door. His attention went to what was around the Valerian superman's wrist. It was metallic band, and upon that band, there was something else that emitted an eldritch, coruscating light of so many different colors. He could feel something intangible coming out of it; he should have felt unnerved, but for some odd reason, the eldritch light gave him a feeling of hope.

---

Port Admiral Raoul Laforge stood up from his desk to greet Christopher 'Kit' Kinnison, the son of a good friend, but more importantly, the bearer of the important rank of 'Unattached Lensman'. Or, as most people within the patrol knew it, a Gray Lensman.

Most people were unaware that Kit Kinnison, in spite of his youthful appearance, was the unofficial leader of those parts of the Tellurian Civilization which had been transported to another universe and reality by a most disturbing phenomena.

Grizzled Port Admiral Raoul Laforge was a personal friend of Kinnison's father, the famed Gray Lensman Kimball Kinnison, and was one of those few who were aware of the true status and power of the Gray Lensman before him.

"We have nothing to fear here. The most powerful thought-screens are protecting this entire edifice!" the Port Admiral stated with confidence as he firmly shook Kinnison's hand. He then added, "I hope that's enough."

"Sadly, if the enemy were to decide to peer into our thoughts, it would do so easily, regardless of our defenses," said Kinnison. "But we are fortunate, and I can guarantee that right now, the enemy is not aware of this meeting."

Laforge nodded, making a silent concession. The situation was rather a delicate one. They had been separated from Civilization, in a foreign universe, with new challenges, and a new, dangerous enemy. Laforge tried not to imagine what was happening in the Civilization they had left behind. He was confident that they would be able to take care of themselves, since Boskone had been defeated. Yet he still worried.

"Want a glass of fayalin?" the Port Admiral asked.

"That would be fine," replied Kinnison.

Laforge pressed a button on his desk and a cabinet opened, revealing a squat, red bottle and several empty glasses. Kinnison walked over to the cabinet and filled one of the small glasses.

He turned to Laforge. "Hey old boy, want some yourself?"

"I wouldn't mind a glass," answered the Port Admiral.

"The fayalin is yours," said Kinnison with a chuckle, filling another glass. He walked to Laforge's desk and placed both glasses on the smooth wooden surface. Laforge grabbed his glass and took a sip.

"So," said Laforge. "What do we know?"

Kinnison looked at his glass and frowned. In one go, he swallowed the contents and slammed the glass on the desk.

"I know enough to tell you that we have one hell of a fight ahead of us."

Laforge leaned back in his chair. He found Kinnison's tone very worrying.

"Is it that bad?" the old Port Admiral asked.

Kinnison raised an eyebrow.

"It could be worse, but our situation is indeed a very bad one. The enemy we are facing may be far more dangerous than all of the forces of Boskone combined!" Kinnison exclaimed.

Raoul Laforge very nearly let out a gasp.

"You must be mistaken!"

"If only!" answered Kinnison with the appropriate vehemence. "Look! This is the situation: here we are, a hundred and sixty-two star systems of our Civilization, along with the accompanying planets, stranded on a ring of stars revolving around an unknown galaxy, brought here by a malicious intelligence created by a version of humanity millions of years more advanced than we are. A creature so powerful that every being in its own galaxy was forced to dismantle star systems in order to just imprison it in a black sun, because there was nothing else they could do to outright kill it."

"Did the Unit discover this?" asked Laforge somberly.

For a moment, Kinnison was silent. He then nodded.

"It wasn't easy. The Unit did what the Arisians had done to the Eddorians eras ago. The Unit probed the creature's mind, discovered its identity, its purpose, and quickly erased all evidence of such a query. At least that could be done!" said Kinnison.

Laforge looked at Kinnison with some disbelief.

"No more could be done?" the elder man asked.

Kinnison looked downcast. "Kathryn is the only one here. The Unit's power is therefore diminished."

Laforge was at a loss for words. Kinnison's three other sisters were very important. Without all of the Children of the Lens together, Civilization's situation was quite precarious.

In response to Laforge's look of despair, Kinnison added, "Don't be too glum old boy. The enemy is diminished as well, and permanently bound to the planet it's on. In fact, it's dependent on the power of the advanced computer within said planet in order to hold any sway. Without that computer, the creature would be imprisoned within its planet, unable to wield the considerable mental power it still possesses."

A grimace appeared on the Port Admiral's face.

"That gives us something. Do you think we can attack that computer?" the old man asked. Kinnison shook his head, which was not what the Port Admiral wanted to see.

"That planet itself possesses a weapon of great power which would destroy any attempts at doing just that. I got its name: Shalmirane. It's capable of destroying anything within a two light-year radius, no matter how big or small, with a precision any engineer would be envious of. Any ship approaching at any speed would be destroyed by its beam, which means that any direct attack against the enemy is impossible for now," said Kinnison.

"What about alliances? Has that thing formed any alliances we need to worry about?" asked Laforge.

Kinnison allowed a chuckle to escape his throat.

"There's no need to sugar coat it. You're asking if it's managed to take control of any other beings within this ring. The sad answer is yes. So far, the enemy has subjugated two alien races, both of them mechanical in nature, and the creature intends to spread its influence within this ring, making moves on the star systems of other beings. I do know for a fact that it has plans for the galaxy at the center. We'll have to move fast and form our own alliances, while directly engaging the enemy's subjects.

"We're lucky that there are enough people out there in this ring and in that galaxy out there who will fight against the enemy, even if they don't know the enemy exists. Many of the beings within this ring seem to be humans derived from various versions of Earth – old Tellus' name, if you recall. It would be a good idea to contact them. During a cursory scan of the ring, the Unit detected a group of Earth-derived humans operating under an organization called the United Federation of Planets. They seem to be the best candidates to bring all of the other humans in this ring together. The Unit will deal with the minutiae, and the United Federation of Planets will assume that one of their own number had the idea.

"I'm sure that we're in a good position to stop the enemy. Please visualize the ring of stars we are in old boy," said Kinnison.

Suddenly, an image of the ring of stars made from the astral bodies pulled from various versions of the Milky Way appeared before Laforge's very eyes. Of course, the old Port Admiral was aware that this was a mental projection created by Kit Kinnison, projected into his brain in the same way an old movie was projected onto a screen made of vinyl and coated with magnesium carbonate.

Oddly enough, the ring did resemble the rings of Saturn on a more massive scale, something which did not seem natural to old Laforge. A small segment was highlighted in red, like a slice of ring-cake.

"See that segment of the ring? We are at one end of that segment, and the other you will find my candidates, the United Federation of Planets. In between, you will find many other humans derived from alternate versions of our Tellus, or rather, Earth. I hope to create a fortress of Good against Evil in this region. As for our enemy, we are fortunate enough that it is at the very opposite side of the ring; not only that, but its world is orbiting some distance away from the ring, making it the most remote astral body in this ring system of ours."

"That's a lot of star systems," exclaimed Laforge. "I wonder how many Earths we'll find," he finished with a chuckle.

Kinnison's lips curled slightly upwards. "That's the funny thing about this transplantation of these Milky Way cosmic bodies; there are no duplicates save for one glaring exception. Every star, every planet, every speck of dust and every molecule is unique. That being said, there are worlds which were ripped from other versions of the Milky Way galaxy which we never encountered or ever existed in our reality."

Laforge raised an eyebrow. "What's the exception?"

Kinnison offered a smirk.

"Earth," he said.

"Earth? You mean Tellus?"

"Not our Tellus of course, but there are two versions of Earth," Kinnison explained. "One you'll find in nearly the center of this segment highlighted in red. It's a world which has just begun to explore space. The humans of this Earth are already building several stations within Earth's orbit, and there are already several settlements on the moon. There is an alien presence within the Solar System, but it's benign and will be a valuable ally. As far as the people of this Earth are concerned, the year is 2003."

"And the other Earth?" Laforge asked grimly.

Kinnison pointed at the remote planet orbiting around the ring. The enemy's planet.

"That is the other Earth," Kinnison somberly said.

Laforge gasped.

"Can we call it something else?" the old man asked.

"Agreed. I've always been partial to Thulcandra myself," Kinnison said. Laforge couldn't help but smile at the literary reference.

He then asked, as if to change the subject, "What about the Galaxy?"

Kinnison smiled, and the galaxy appeared within the ring.

"This galaxy itself is the home of many billions of human beings along with several other highly intelligent aliens. It's divided between several different factions, some evil, others not so much. It would also seem that this ring we are in and the galaxy are both tidally locked, which will make travel less complicated as I reckon it. We need to contact the people of this galaxy, as the enemy has already made its own move in that area, recruiting a native to do its dirty work. Unfortunately, I can feel an evil presence within the outer edge of the galaxy, close to where we are," said Kinnison with a dour expression.

"An evil presence?" Laforge gasped. "Another evil presence?"

"Completely unrelated to the enemy, and – to a degree – less powerful," said Kinnison as if that could be reassuring. "Let's hope they don't meet, fall in love and get married!"

"What if they're both of the same sex?" Laforge suddenly asked.

"That would be horrible!" shouted out Kinnison, aghast at such an unimaginable and repulsive implication that could only be made by the most depraved mind of a depraved world populated by zwilniks and sour suffragettes. "But typical of the wicked."

"Noshabkeming! And here we are, outgunned and undermanned!" exclaimed the Port Admiral, tossing his hands into the air.

"Good thing you had the idea to recruit several stragglers from other realities to become Lensmen," Kinnison said.

Laforge grimaced. "I wonder how good of an idea it was. By Klono's iridium intestines! One of our recruits is a kid that thought he was a cat when we dragged him kicking, biting and growling out of that queer looking ship of his. Wu-Feinstein! That was the ship's name! Wu-Feinstein! What sort of people names their ships like that? And it looked like Mount Vernon for crying out loud! Can you imagine that!? The people we found inside of it were just as queer, as if they were grown out of cabbage patches instead of being born naturally from a woman! Compared to them, that crazy kid was normal. It took three big Valerians to take him down! And your sister too! Without her mental prowess, Visser would have had his arm ripped off. How many days would the poor man spend growing another arm?"

"Kathryn's treating that case," Kinnison remarked dispassionately. "He's a good kid and alright now; we're putting him through an accelerated training regime. The kid's tough and strong for someone his age and size."

"I hope it's worth it," Laforge said. "Time is ticking by like an old mother-in-law."

Kinnison smiled for once. "You won't have to worry about that old boy. This ring of ours is currently surrounded by a time-space bubble, a haze of a sort. That means that time here is moving faster than it is in that galaxy; in fact, there are several space-time bubbles outside of this ring in which time is moving at different speeds; our Thulcandra is caught in one in which time is even faster than here in the ring."

"So I guess we'll have time to get ready," concluded Laforge, his visage lightening up just a bit.

"Indeed!" replied Kinnison, "But this haze of time won't last for long. Within the next two years, the bubble will dissipate, and we here at this ring will experience time in the same way as the inhabitants of the Galaxy. So we need to get moving!"

---

R. Dors Venabili took the last few minutes she had to quietly sit in the Dandy Girl's View-room. Soon, the steel shutter-lids would be closed for landing and she wouldn't be able to see outside. If you wanted to actually see the ship approaching Terminus, you'd be disappointed and strongly desire to have boarded a space-yacht or a modern ship. Dors Venabili however had chosen the Dandy Girl exactly because it had been modelled after the old ships that existed during the latter years of the Empire, before things started to fall apart.

Terminus was a beautiful planet, to her artificial eyes. Having more oceans than land, it was well worth coming back to life, just to see it. In her prior life, she had heard of it in passing; the last planet to be discovered, the last uninhabited world. She would have never guessed that following her death, Hari would manipulate the Imperial government into practically giving this planet to his people. For him, it must have been so easy. Terminus was such a distant, isolated planet.

Not anymore. Terminus was now orbiting its solitary star, amidst many other stars. There were five other people in the View-room with Venabili; all were native to Terminus, and all were amazed at all of the stars they could see.

"Not from Terminus, are you?" a man asked, seating himself next to Venabili. A quick examination told her that he wasn't a humaniform robot. He was just a man trying to strike a conversation with a woman – with the hope of taking a few more liberties. She couldn't really blame him. The robots that had brought her back to life had given her a new form. One based off the appearance of the natives of Hame, a form that was very appealing to the masculine eye. Looking at herself when she opened her eyes centuries after her death was shocking. Not as shocking as being told about all of the changes that had occurred since then; about the Foundation, about how Trantor became Hame, about the Mule, but more importantly, about what had just happened. A number of star systems of the Milky Way galaxy had been transplanted away to another universe.

Hari's work was made pointless.

"No," she said bluntly. She wasn't in the mood for this sort of interaction. Not after everything. Not with Venabili having trouble retrieving her memories of Hari. Venabili perceived the man's brainwaves, and manipulated them slightly. She turned his interest in her to the stars.

The man turned his head and he looked at the stars surrounding Terminus.

"It's so beautiful," the man said with wonder. The motions of his thoughts were boiling. Just like everyone else's

Venabili looked out to see the spectacle. She wished she could enjoy it in the same way. She tried to form an image of Hari as a young man, when they first met on Trantor, so she could see him clearly with her eyes in a way no human could. The data in her positronic brain however, was corrupted. Bits and pieces of Hari's face were there, but these bits and pieces were from different stages of his life. Still, her positronic brain went to work and made as close an image as it could.

There he was, standing there by her side, though in truth he wasn't.

She felt a sudden spike in human thought. She turned her head to look at the other passengers, and what had caught their eye.

For once, she was just as amazed as they were.

It was a ship. A very peculiar looking ship, with a saucer for a head, a cylindrical body and a pair of wings that ended in more cylinders.

These must be the others she had heard about. It passed by and was gone in an instant. The passengers looked at each other, all apprehensive, curious, afraid and many other things.

"They're real?" a passenger asked.

"I saw a few of them on Kalgan," said the man that had tried to approach Venabili.

An officer then came in, putting an end to the conversation.

"We'll be landing in fifteen minutes. Please return to your seats. We'll be closing the shutters now," he said. The way he said it was almost robotic, though Venabili herself knew that he was no robot, just a man who had said the same words over and over again.

Venabili dutifully obeyed. The other passengers were a bit slower, and one even asked the officer about the strange ship.

The officer's emotions showed that he was becoming accustomed to them –accustomed because he had seen them so many times before.

"You don't need to worry about them. They're human like all of us here," the officer said. Venabili almost smirked at that statement. "And they're friends."

"So far," murmured one passenger.

The officer's words hadn't reassured the passengers present. The entire situation – the transplantation and the existence of other humans that were using other kinds of technology – shattered all pre-conceived notions that people living within the Foundation had always had.

"Earth exists you know!" said another passenger. There were a few gasps; the existence of humanity's home world had been a mystery for millennia. Upon being revived, Venabili was told – or reminded, as she had no idea if she was in the know before – that Earth's concealment had been purposeful. That it was something crafted by R. Daneel Olivaw himself, who was mainly based on the Earth's moon. All anyone else knew about Earth were myths and legends. Until now.

"Move along!" the officer said, more forcefully. "You all need to return to your seats."

The passengers still murmured, but the line moved a bit more faster, until Venabili was back at her comfortable seat.

Now she turned her attention away from human brainwaves, to the ship's very own computer. She could see that the commands to descend down to Terminus had already been inputted; by now, the ship was positioning itself for a downward descent.

None of the passengers could feel the pilot's input being transmitted to each part of the ship like she could. Every button pressed, every lever pulled was felt. She knew exactly how the Dandy Girl was moving, and in which direction she was moving towards.

A slight motion clued the other passengers to something that Venabili had already known: that the Dandy Girl was already entering Terminus' atmosphere. Though modelled after an old Imperial passenger ship, the Dandy Girl was smooth and quick. With her artificial eyes connected to the ship's sensors, Venabili could see the Dandy Girl coming down upon a landing pad.

It was all so fast. Another second and there was the jolt felt when landing. All cheered.

As soon as all was still, another officer, a young lady with an easy smile, guided the passengers to the exit, where they all stepped on the ramp which smoothly moved them downwards.

Upon touching Terminus' ground for the first time, Venabili quickly noted the presence of an individual nearby. She couldn't see him yet, but she knew he was there, most likely at the terminal, where she expected he'd approach her. She could feel his positronic brain.

Indeed, R. Migal Doyost was there, holding in his hand Venabili's meager luggage, which was nothing more than a blue bag. She was expected to find anything she needed on Terminus itself.

"Thanks," Venabili said, as Doyost handed her the bag. "I hope it wasn't too hard to take."

"The attendant was kind and allowed me to get your luggage, since we clearly know each other," the humaniform robot said.

"And you didn't need evidence?" Venabili asked. She did know Doyost. He was there on Trantor – or Hame – when she was first resurrected.

"Oh I did," said Doyost. "But a little prodding here and there was enough to have the attendant willingly allow me to check out your luggage."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Venabili asked. Tampering with human minds might have consequences. Doyost, being one of the few remaining robots that could do that should have known that perfectly well.

"It was a slight tampering. Nothing serious," said Doyost. "The attendant was about to be relieved anyway. Besides, only a very few within the Foundation know that the Second Foundation still exists. No one knows about us."

"Is the First Foundation on good terms with the Second now? Speaker Chelb did what he said he was going to do?" Venabili asked. She remembered those early days after coming back to life. She had been told about everything that had happened since she died. They then told her about the madness that was happening in the present. That several star systems of the Foundation had been transplanted to another universe, as far as anyone could see. Those that knew of the true extant of Hari's plan – and those that knew more – that had been transplanted as well came to a frightening realization:

The Seldon Plan had been cancelled.

And if Seldon's plan was done with, the same could be said of the one formulated by R. Daneel Olivaw.

However, the robots caught up in this mess still obeyed the four laws. They had to guarantee the safety and continued prosperity of all humanity. There was no other option; the humaniform robots revealed themselves to the Second Foundation.

To say that they were shocked was an understatement. At the very least, they now understood how the First Foundation felt when they first learned of their counterparts at star's end.

However, the rapport between the two groups was fairly quick. These were trying times with no space for dissent. The Seldon Plan had to be tossed away like a crumpled piece of paper, but Hari's legacy still remained – and that legacy was the Foundation itself. The two groups agreed that the Second Foundationers should reveal themselves to a small and select group of First Foundationers. Nothing concerning the humaniform robots would be revealed to anyone within the First Foundation however. Together, the Foundation could survive in this bizarre new universe they had been hurled into.

Doyost opened the door to his air car, a fancy looking model that reminded Venabili of similar vehicles she had seen during her first life on Trantor. Venabili stepped in; the seat readily adapted itself to her frame and form. Doyost sat in the driver's seat. The doors closed automatically. Doyost then pressed a button on the dashboard, and the steering wheel tucked itself inside. The air car began to move slowly and follow the road ahead of it.

In the space between the driver's seat and the passenger's seat, a black globe emerged.

"It's an experimental display," Doyost explained. "A good friend developed it. He hopes that it works well with the ride."

As the air car moved along the road, a three dimensional image appeared within the globe, and then expanded beyond it, so that Venabili had a clear sight of what was being transmitted. Sound came seconds later.

Venabili found herself looking at a meeting place of some sort. Well-dressed men and women were seated, while a tall man with black hair stood on a podium behind a lectern.

"Is that Seldon Hall?" she asked.

Doyost nodded. "The ruling Council is meeting, and the Councimen and Councilwomen are discussing current events."

The image of that strange ship crossed Venabili's mind.

"I bet they are," she remarked. "Who's the mayor?"

"You don't know?" Doyost asked with surprise.

"His name?" Venabili asked. "No. I don't know his name. No one told it to me, and everyone I've encountered simply called him 'the mayor'"

"No one told you?" Doyost asked, quite shocked. "No one on Trantor?"

"They were too busy messing with my internal doo-hickeys," said Venabili, and by that she meant the numerous devices she now had within her body. Most importantly, they had installed a modified version of Dr. Toran Darell's mind-static device deep within her positronic brain. Due to the state of her own body, and the sudden transplantation across the multiverse, those reviving her could not give R. Dors Venabili the normal mentallic powers that some humaniform robots had. They had also incorporated into her mechanisms that would allow her to form a connection with any space ship, though that was a later modification.

It was as if someone wanted her to be a pilot.

"Sarlo Trevize," said Doyost. "That's the man's name. He was recently elected. Probably why you didn't hear his name, now that I think about it."

"Mayor Trevize," said one of the Councilmen, his rough manner and tone turning Venabili's head towards the display sphere. "Are you suggesting we cede our commercial activities because this 'Federation' abhors money? Considering that they seem to have a sort of credit system, which is, whether they like it or not, money, I seriously doubt the sincerity of their statements and beliefs."

Mayor Trevize held up a hand. "They haven't made any demands…"

"Yet!" cut in a Councilwoman.

The mayor looked at the woman with a fierce glare.

"They haven't made any demands. I'm sure they will make them in the future. And we might have to accept them," said Trevize. "Our reality right now does not allow us to put up a façade of strength and bravado. We have been torn from our universe to another, with less than twenty star systems to keep us company. Our resources and markets have been drastically reduced, which means we need to adapt. Should I mention our problems with hyperspace? All of our ships, bar none, have had problems with their hyperdrives."

Venabili could attest to that last statement. The Dandy Girl had had to make several leaps to reach Terminus – normally, two leaps would have sufficed for the distance traversed, but the hyperdrive had to be turned off, or it would burn out completely.

Every researcher agreed that the nature of hyperdrive in this reality was at fault. There were similarities, but also fundamental differences. Top Foundationer scientists were looking into it, and hoped to resolve the problem soon.

"Even though the peoples of the Federation seem to come from an era of history akin to the legendary and mythical age of Lucky Starr and the Terrestrial Empire, their scientific achievements cannot be denied. Teleportation! Spontaneous material generation! And a form of Faster-Than-Light technology that operates on different principles than our hyperdrives! These are feats which we ourselves have yet to achieve, in spite of our thousands of years of advance over them," continued the mayor.

"Some of them aren't even human!" interrupted another Councilman. Doyost turned off the transmission before more could be heard.

"It was getting tedious anyway," said Doyost.

Venabili wondered if he had disconnected the transmission because of the fact that the Foundation had at last encountered technologically advanced aliens. When they brought her back to life, the robots had told Venabili what they had done to any alien lifeform that could potentially threaten humanity. To many robots, that meant all of them. An ancient, nearly forgotten word – xenocide – was recalled, and Venabili knew that this new group of peoples, that is, the Federation, would not condone the robots for having been a part of it.

"This is the meeting we need to watch," Doyost said, turning the transmission of the display back on. "What you saw before was a Council meeting that took place late this morning. That's available to the public – or rather, the public that knows how to watch it." Doyost smiled wickedly. "What's more relevant to us is the later meeting that took place shortly after lunch hours, in the Mayor's office."

Indeed, the globe began to show the sights and sounds within an office. It was a large office – Mayor Trevize was seated behind his desk. Two more men and one woman surrounded him, all of them on their feet.

"What do we know about this secret project?" asked the woman "What do these Federation people intend?"

"I think that they're being completely sincere," Trevize replied "They intend to mount an expedition to the Central Galaxy. An exploratory and diplomatic expedition. It seems that exploration and diplomacy is their forte."

"That's a huge risk. What would we find in that Galaxy? We already know that there seems to be one predominant civilization in it based off transmissions alone. What if they decided to come here? Armed with weapons?" one of the men asked.

Trevize bellowed out in laughter. "You always know how to crack me up. But seriously, there is evidence that a war is going on in there. If we don't move first, they will."

"Why do we need the Federation then?" the woman once again asked. "The only problem we have is fixing our hyperdrives. Once that's solved, we can go out and make our own deals."

"I wish we could. Let's be realistic here. We are in a very weakened position, and the Federation isn't the only human civilization out there. Independent Traders have delivered accounts of humans who are unafraid of escalation, others who think that expansion is the only way to survive in a universe filled with aliens. Those are the human civilizations out there. I'm sure that there are more civilizations that aren't human, that won't be so eager to deal with us. We know that aliens exist. We saw a few of them in that Federation ship. So there's no point in closing our eyes to reality. We need to cooperate with the Federation. I've already started the process to recruit engineers and pilots to participate in their venture," Trevize said.

"We're going to give them everything?" asked the man that had spoken before. He looked at the man that had remained silent. "What does the Second Foundation think of this?"

"We'll defer to the Mayor."

"How generous."

"Your skepticism is proof that we are," replied the Second Foundationer with a smirk. Venabili looked at Doyost.

"That's the tiny little circle of people that know of the Second Foundation's survival, one of whom is from the Second Foundation itself," Doyost explained.

"Cut it! Both of you!" Trevize said, raising his voice, and nearly pounding his fist against the desk's surface. "I'm not stupid enough to give them everything. Any Foundationer assigned to the Federation will be armed with outdated weapons and the personal force fields we'll supply – as a gesture of good will – will have half the power and strength of the ones our military use. The Federation and their alien cohorts won't profit if they use our weapons against us…"

Again, Doyost turned off the sphere. This time, his attention was turned towards an edifice that stood out amongst the others.

"We're here," Doyost said, his tone changing from one of teasing mirth to dread seriousness. "Are you sure you want to go there?"

Venabili felt a churning within her. If she had a stomach, she would say that she was having the willies.

"Yes," she said.

The air car stopped behind the edifice. The doors opened, and Doyost helped Venabili out.

"I know of a more concealed entrance," he explained. "I work here after all."

He could have winked, but he didn't. Venabili was glad. Doyost guided her to a small door that was somewhat concealed within a shadow, and they both entered the edifice.

After traversing a couple of corridors, and climbing down a few stairs, they entered something that looked like a theater. There were quite a lot of chairs inside.

"Pick your seat," Doyost said.

Venabili sat down on a random chair. "When do people come here?"

"The Vault isn't scheduled to open in a few more years. There shouldn't really be anyone here. To be honest, there were years in which the Vault was opened and no one was here. Sometimes everyone was here and everything went to hell," Doyost said. The last statement was clearly a reference to the Mule, who had not been predicted by Hari's calculations. But Hari was aware that a man with supernatural abilities could arise and ruin his plan – he was no fool.

"So, what recording do you want to hear?" Doyost asked. "Many of the people working here don't know that it's possible to replay several recordings. But it is. Daneel Olivaw insisted upon it."

Venabili pondered on it. She certainly didn't want to hear his last prediction. No good would come from it anyway.

"The very first one please," she said.

Doyost nodded and ducked behind a door.

Venabili looked at the empty glass cubicle. The lights went dim. Dors Venabili felt something within her stir.

The glass cubicle was no longer empty; an old man in a wheel chair was inside. Venabili recognized him at once, even though he was so much older than she had remembered him.

"Hari," she mumbled out.

He had a book in his lap which he closed. Hari smiled. For a moment, he seemed alive.

"I am Hari Seldon. As you see, I am confined to this chair and cannot rise to greet you. Your grandparents left for Terminus a few months back in my time and since then I have suffered a rather inconvenient paralysis. I can't see you, you know, so I can't greet you properly. I don't even know how many of you there are, so all this must be conducted informally. If any of you are standing, please sit down; and if you can smoke, I wouldn't mind. Why should I? I'm not really here."

Thus, the ghost of Hari Seldon spoke as he had to Salvor Hardin so many years ago. He revealed that the Encyclopedia was a fraud, and the true purpose of the Foundation was to recreate a Galactic Empire in a thousand year period.

He seemed so alive when he spoke, even as he sat in his wheelchair, old and far from the young man he had been. Yet Dors Venabili knew that her husband was already dead by the time Hardin sat down and watched the recording.

Once it was over, Venabili stood up and waved at the image of her late husband.

"Goodbye," she said. "I love you."

Doyost joined her as they left the Time Vault. He said nothing, and Venabili was glad.

By now, it was night, and a crowd of people could be seen nearby, silently looking upwards at the starlit sky in wonder.

"Are people always like that here?" she asked.

Doyost replied. "For now at least. Before the transplantation, there were no stars in the sky, only the Milky Way galaxy. You can't blame them for the wonder they feel."

"I don't blame them," Venabili said with a chuckle. "I think I might envy them," she then added. "You want me to be a pilot? For this Federation project the Mayor was talking about?"

Doyost nodded. "Tomorrow, early in the morning, you'll be going to the recruitment center. Someone will be waiting for you."

Venabili nodded. She wondered why she had been brought back to life. Were things that bad? Were they so desperate for robots that they had to revive her carcass? Was this all so that she could be converted into a pilot to be part of what seemed to be a trivial mission?

Suddenly a song was heard, coming from the crowd, as if spoken by an old machine:

Sometimes I get the feelin'

I was back in the old days, long ago

When we were kids when we were young

Things seemed so perfect - you know

The days were endless we were crazy we were young

The sun was always shinin'

We just lived for fun

Sometimes it seems like lately

I just don't know

The rest of my life's been just a show

Those were the days of our lives

The bad things in life were so few

Those days are all gone now but one thing is true

When I look and I find I still love you

You can't turn back the clock you can't turn back the tide

Ain't that a shame

I'd like to go back one time on a roller coaster ride

When life was just a game

No use in sitting and thinkin' on what you did

When you can lay back and enjoy it through your kids

Sometimes it seems like lately

I just don't know

Better sit back and go with the flow

Cos these are the days of our lives

They've flown in the swiftness of time

These days are all gone now but some things remain

When I look and I find no change

Those were the days of our lives, yeah

The bad things in life were so few

Those days are all gone now but one thing's still true

When I look and I find

I still love you

I still love you

"What's that?" Venabili asked.

"A song from Earth, from a group called Queen," Doyost said. "They are consistently good. Many songs of old Earth have been appearing as of late."

"It is a lovely little song," Venabili remarked. She couldn't help but see Hari sing the song to her. Especially that last line. And she could see herself sing that line as well.

---

Captain's log. Stardate 000.1. Following the catastrophic and unbelievable event, 27 star systems of the Federation have transplanted to an unknown part of space, which careful examination of scans pertaining to the background radiation of our surroundings, seem to indicate as belonging to a completely different reality. Indeed, the Federation itself is within a ring made up of many stars and cosmic bodies of several and diverse versions of our Milky Way Galaxy. The Enterprise has been sent out to explore and assess the situation, and open up diplomatic relations with any advanced civilization that can be found.

Several Starfleet vessels have already made contact with the other civilizations of this ring. Intriguingly, many of these civilizations are not only human, but seem to originate from a version of Earth that is completely different from our own.

Presently, we have re-discovered planet Earth, however, before we could begin negotiations, we have encountered two objects near Jupiter, one resembling an ancient Earth ship, and one that cannot in any way be of human origin.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard stared at the main view-screen of the bridge. He was intrigued. Between Jupiter and Io, in a stable orbit around the gas giant, one could see a tremendous black, cuboid slab, its dimensions being in the ratio of 1 : 4 : 9, whilst its length was about two kilometers. The surface was oddly smooth and seemingly untouched by any mircrometeoroid.

"Sensors are not detecting significant amounts of energy, but there is enough to conclude that the cuboid structure is active," said Lieutenant Commander Data from behind the ops console.

"Our own scanners might trigger a reaction," noted Riker, sitting next to Picard with a concerned look on his face.

"Mr. Worf?" asked the captain, not bothering to turn around. Lieutenant Worf stood behind the captain, manning the tactical console which was neatly integrated into the wooden rail behind the command chairs of the galaxy class vessel.

"I cannot detect any form of energy which could be used against us. That does not mean however, that there is none," said the Klingon in a gruff tone.

"Noted," replied Picard.

For a while, Picard looked at the cuboid with dumbfounded wonder. He then turned his attention towards something else on the viewscreen.

Nearby, a space vessel was spinning at a regular pace, approaching Jupiter slowly, but steadily. The design of the ship was nothing Picard had ever seen before, consisting mostly of bulky thrusters attached to a thin stalk that was approximately 122 meters long, with a large sphere at its head. Using eyesight alone, one would think that the ship was dead. It certainly was inactive.

Picard wondered what the cuboid slab's relation was with the derelict ship.

"What about that ship nearby?" Picard asked.

The viewscreen's focus changed from the cuboid to the spinning vessel, magnifying its image.

"The ship seems to be a product of twentieth-century Earth technology. The habitation module is contained within the spherical structure of the ship, and according to the scans, it contains within it a centrifuge. A malfunctioning centrifuge would explain why the ship is spinning as it is. As for life signs, none have been detected, and according to measurements of heat dissipation, it seems that the ship was abandoned relatively recently," Data said.

"How recently?" asked Riker.

"No more than two years, sir," replied the android.

Riker turned to the captain. "Maybe if we went on board we might discover something. Particularly with regards to that," Riker paused, "…monolith out there."

Picard raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but agree with his first officer that the spinning derelict might have information on the cuboid structure. They were too close to one another for it to be a coincidence.

"Mr. Data, what are the conditions within the ship?" he asked.

"All life support systems seemed to have been turned off. Any away team exploring the ship will have to be equipped with EV suits."

"Make it so," said Picard, turning to Riker, "Take Lieutenant La Forge with you, as well as several security personnel. Beam out at any sign of trouble."

"The scans might not be detecting life, but I can sense something alive within that monolith," said Deanna Troi, gazing at the viewscreen with more intensity than Picard could muster. "Several things – a multiplicity."

Picard pondered on Troi's words. This crew, however, had faced so much dangerous situations before. He looked Riker in the eye.

"At the slightest sign of trouble, you will be beamed back," said Picard firmly.

"Don't worry. You know me," said Riker with a smile as he got up from his seat and exited the bridge.

Picard pulled his shirt, and now gazed at the spinning space ship. He then gazed at the monolithic structure and took a deep breath.

This was going to be a more eventful mission than he had realized.

Evidently, Picard, and everyone else on board the Enterprise was aware of the importance of this mission the moment the Federation had spotted Sol with their sensors. That this Solar System was not the one they knew was evident the moment the Enterprise crossed the Heliosphere. Radio and television transmissions showed a version of Earth in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century, confidently expanding beyond the planet. There was no evidence of Khan's existence.

Scans revealed that this expansion was still in its infancy. There were several stations orbiting around Earth – some of which seemed to be weapons platforms – the largest of them being a double torus around 300 meters of diameter. There was a significant number of settlements on the Moon, and evidence of activity on Mars and the asteroid belt. As far as could be discerned, no vessel was armed.

Contact with such a civilization would have clashed with the Prime Directive. However, after what leading Federation scientists were calling, 'The Great Stellar Shift', the Prime Directive was increasingly ignored. He had received word that the Federation President was pushing for its abolishment. Given the circumstances, it was most likely going to happen.

It was no secret that many other civilizations from other realities had been transported to the newly dubbed 'Silver Ring', civilizations which had other methods of FTL technology that differed from the Federation's warp drive. Too many civilizations, human or otherwise, were left isolated in an alien space, under threat of more advanced and militarized powers within the Ring. The Federation was invested in forming alliances with these vulnerable civilizations and sharing technology with them; Picard agreed in every way.

The discovery of a version of Earth, the home planet of every human within the Ring, was of paramount importance, but that monolith made things complicated.

"Captain!" said Riker through the communicator "We seem to be inside some sort of cargo bay. It seems to be mostly empty, apart from a few EV suits. The lights are off. Geordi's on his way to find out how to turn the power back on."

Picard took a deep breath when he noticed Troi stirring next to him.

"Councilor?" he asked, turning towards her. The look on her face worried him.

"They are curious Captain," she replied.

"Mr. Data?" he asked.

For an unnatural few seconds, Data was silent.

He then turned around and faced Picard.

"I have received a message captain."

"A message? How? From whom?" Picard asked, though he guessed the monolith was involved.

"It was transmitted directly into my positronic brain," Data added, "An envoy will be sent."

"An envoy?" Picard asked, looking at Troi, searching for reassurance.

Within the blink of an eye, Picard's attention was brought to the viewscreen. Every officer within the bridge had their eyes fixed on the same area.

Standing in front of the viewscreen was a man in his late twenties or early thirties, with short blond hair, wearing what seemed to be a red EV suit of a design unfamiliar to Picard's eye.

Already, Picard could feel Worf move behind him, scowling at the stranger, holding his phaser tightly in his hand. The light growl confirmed what the captain had guessed.

"Stand down! Everyone! Lower your weapons!" said Picard, standing up and raising his hands. He turned to give every crewman, especially Worf, a warning glance. The Klingon got the message and lowered his weapon.

Picard turned back to face the stranger standing in front of everyone.

"I am Jean-Luc Picard, captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, and representative of the United Federation of Planets," Picard said. He recalled many years before a teacher telling him that it was believed that giving your name first empowered the one you were speaking with; Picard himself felt that it was a helpful strategy. He didn't need to be seen as a threat. Nor could he be seen as weak, so he added, with a stern demeanor, "Who might you be?"

The stranger remained still and calm. He did not seem to breathe or sway just slightly as some people did.

"I was Dr. David Bowman, mission commander of the Discovery, the vessel your men are now exploring," said the man in an eerily inhuman manner.

"You were David Bowman?" asked Picard with growing concern and interest.

"Not that long ago, by the estimate of the people on Earth," the stranger said. "But I'm not David Bowman. Not quite. All that he was is now a part of me."

"And who are you?" Picard asked. "Who are you now?"

"You may call me Dave," the stranger replied with a smile.

Picard was tempted to turn back and look at Troi's reaction, but he felt it inappropriate and unwise to keep his eyes away. Especially before a being that seemed to be powerful. Q had taught him to be cautious.

This Dave did not feel at all human, regardless of his or its claim.

"You're humans," Dave remarked.

"Yes," said Picard with a nod, "Some of us are human. Of another version of Earth."

Picard could see that Dave was lifting his head slightly, and looking at Worf.

"Indeed. Some of you are not. They are not familiar with the species of the individual standing behind you," Dave said.

"They?" asked Picard.

"I am not at liberty to explain more besides that it does indeed have to do with the monolith before you, as you yourself have pondered on."

Picard didn't move his head, but he did shift his eyes slightly, scanning the parts of the bridge he could see. Every member of the crew seemed apprehensive but calm. He could count on Worf's discipline to keep the crewmen behind him in line.

"I can tell you that this solar system has been visited many times in the past, and that humanity has been watched closely since the earliest years of the species' evolution," Dave added. "However this situation was something unprecedented."

It had never crossed Picard's mind that the monolith might have something to do with the massive cosmic transplantation, but now he found himself surprised that this was not the case.

"What happened was beyond their power?" Picard tentatively asked.

"Very much so, and the trauma was crippling," Dave said.

In an instant, Dave's figure changed. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Picard noticed that everyone in the bridge save Data jolted slightly as it happened. He was no longer a man in his late twenties or early thirties wearing an exotic EV suit, but older, dressed in dark garb. He approached Data, looked at him, and then smiled warmly. He then turned to look at Picard.

"This event has had its consequences," the elder Dave said, his voice now seemingly distorted. "For all of us, I assume. I do not know what you have lost, but this Solar System has lost something wonderful."

Dave turned around, now to face the viewscreen. The Discovery and Jupiter were in view, as was the monolith.

"Plans concerning Jupiter and Europa had to be abandoned with much reluctance. Too much has gone wrong and there are no guarantees," Dave said, almost wistfully. His tone quickly changed. "Every star transplanted to this parcel of existence has fallen under the shadow of a most terrifying being, a creature which can be called truly evil. In addition, there are many threats within the galaxy around which these transplanted cosmic forms revolve. Do you intend to unify the good people within these stars to fight a common foe?"

Picard raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," said Picard, without embellishing his response. This Dave was a powerful being and a representative of even more powerful beings. There was no need to beat around the bush.

Dave nodded.

"Your offer is accepted," he said.

"And the people of Earth?" Picard asked.

In the following instance, the figure calling himself Dave suffered another instantaneous transformation. He was older than before, wearing a white gown which reached down and covered his feet.

"I do not represent them," Dave replied, as his arms shaked. "But if you explain everything with honesty and clarity, they too will accept your offer. The people of this Earth are not entirely unreasonable."

Dave turned to Data. "You remind me of Hal, though I must say that Hal was more emotional then you seem to be," again, Dave turned to Picard, "Captain Picard, may I ask a personal favor?"

"Certainly," Picard answered, "If it's within our power to grant it."

"It is. Tell your people on the Discovery to allow me a moment alone with Hal, once you've reactivated him," Dave said.

Picard was about to ask what Hal was, when Dave underwent his final, and more bizarre transformation. Now he looked like an oversized and translucent fetus, floating above the floor. The being looked at Picard with eldritch eyes before disappearing.

---

Robby approached, taking huge, audible steps. The keys on his electronic brain were clicking furiously. It puzzled Commander J.J. Adams. It startled Alta, who clasped the young commander's arm.

"Robby! What's wrong?" she asked in despair.

Adams noticed that some of his men were grabbing their blasters. That was all that they needed, after the bedlam that had just happened. If Robby were to go haywire there was no way any of the weapons – even the rifles – could make a dent on the robot, not to mention the fact that Robby could shoot back. Dr. Morbius had done a good job making Robby. Fortunately, Dr. Mobius had made sure that Robby could not harm any human being without endangering his own existence. Adams raised his hand, and gave them a stern look. The spacemen got the message and stopped what they were doing. The keys within Robby's transparent dome continued to click.

"DANGER! DANGER COMMANDER ADAMS!" Robby blared out.

Adams and Alta traded glances; the young lady knew the robot since she was very young, but Adams wasn't willing to risk her life. He stepped in front of her.

"What's wrong Robby?" he asked. The light cruiser C-57D and its passengers seemed to be getting all sorts of rotten luck. Some mysterious force had torn the saucer from its original path to Earth, leaving it in unknown space and driven all of its instruments nuts. The hyperdrive wasn't hot either, as it had failed several times. As luck would have it, the C-57D's sensors did recognize several stars, including Sol, but they were also showing that all of these stars were in the wrong places, and jumbled up. The galaxy sensors were picking up was not being recognized as the Milky Way galaxy, which was unnerving. When astrogation recognized Sol, there was some relief from the crew; the last thing they needed was Robby ruining the mood.

"WE ARE BEING PURSUED BY TWO HOSTILE VESSELS," the robot replied.

"Human?" Adams asked.

"UNIDENTIFIED, BUT THE LIKELIHOOD THAT THE VESSEL IS HUMAN IS VERY LOW," said Robby.

Commander Adams turned to his astrogator.

"Coltrane, do you see anything?" he asked.

Ensign Coltrane had his eyes practically glued to the scope.

"Robby's right skipper! We're being followed!" said Coltrane with amazement. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"All right then!" Adams explained walking towards the wall off the bridge. He turned to the viewplate, a large video screen with rounded edges, and made the proper commands. An image soon formed.

Coltrane was right. It was something he could have never seen before. No one on board the C-57D had ever seen anything like it.

The objects pursuing them were two cubes, one behind the other, both seemingly made from metallic components that had been roughly patched together. Adams didn't feel comfortable looking at them, and neither did the crew, who were standing behind him. Alta gasped.

"Take Alta to her cabin," Adams said, turning to one of the spacemen. "You don't need to worry about anything. Just relax while we resolve this," the commander then turned to another spaceman, and added, "Elway! Call for help."

The spaceman tasked with escorting Alta to her quarters tapped her on the shoulder, and nudged her forwards; not too long ago, her quarters had been Doc Ostrow's. The good doctor had died, using the same machine which had enhanced Dr. Morbius' mind. He had been trying to find out the truth behind the horrible creature that had attacked them on Altair IV. No one had told her that. There was no need to trouble a young lady with such gruesome information.

Alta was halfway there when a few feet away, a green glow appeared. The glow quickly coalesced into a humanoid form.

It was a most hideous form. The creature before them looked somewhat human, except that he – or perhaps, she – had several devices surgically implanted within his body, and done so in a manner which did not take aesthetics into consideration. Hairless, pale as death, and clad in black, the figure reminded Adams of a nightmare version of what some believed humans might become if they merged with machines.

That such a creature was able to teleport directly into the C-57D's bridge was terrifying, but Commander Adams did not consider that. He could only see Alta, who was just a few feet away.

Alta reacted as any young woman would, when confronted by a cadaverous form with machines sticking out of it. She screamed.

The creature turned to her. He raised an arm which was completely encased within machinery, and a beam came out. It connected with Alta. A second later, she was reduced to a pile of ashes.

Never before had J.J. Adams felt such rage. He couldn't even think like a rational being; Adams drew out his blaster and pressed the trigger. Streams of energy made contact with the creature's black-clad form. In quick procession, Adams saw wirings, mechanical components and then flesh and blood being broken apart and turned into multicolored strings, which quickly dissipated into nothingness.

The creature had not screamed or emitted any sound. Whether that was because it had felt no pain or because its disintegration was so quick could not be known. Commander Adams was certainly in no mood to know. His eyes were on the pile of ash on the floor.

Seconds ago, that pile of ash had been a human being, a human being after years of living in isolation, would have – should have – come into contact with other human beings. A girl, or rather, a young lady, who had just lost her father and was about to restart her life. A young woman who Commander Adams was growing attached to; Adams had wanted to start a family with her. She would have been an amazing mother.

There was now no such chance that was ever going to happen.

Anger continued to swell within Commander Adams. He wanted to yell and scream. Military discipline helped him keep his composure, yet his features were still distorted by grief and pain.

Every spaceman within the space cruiser C-57D stood still and silent. None dared say anything. They simply waited for their skipper to wake up from his funk – or the closest thing to that – and give them the orders. They all wanted orders at that moment. They needed them.

Another green glow appeared. The spacemen gasped. Commander Adams grinned like a madman and gripped his blaster firmly in his hand.

The glow took a similar form to that which had appeared before. Pale, clad in black, and with numerous mechanisms inserted into its body.

Adams didn't even blink. He pressed the trigger.

Once again, streams of energy came out. This time however, they stopped before they could make contact with the thing, a force field becoming visible with the impact of each stream. That didn't stop Adams, who continued to shoot at the thing. The commander was stubborn and his features revealed the venomous hatred he felt for this creature. Nonetheless, the creature was unaffected, and raised its arm at him.

Robby stepped in from behind, and grabbed the creature's head with its three-fingered hand. The robot squeezed, and the creature's head popped like an eggshell. Blood, brains and odd mechanical bits spilled on to the floor.

"What the hell is going on?" exclaimed the cook in shock.

That was enough to wake the commander from his stupor.

"Everyone man your battle stations! I want the disintegrator cannons deployed!" Adams barked out, still feeling the rage, but also the tempering influence of military discipline.

"COMMANDER ADAMS. I HAVE MADE SOME MODIFICATIONS ON OUR FORCE FIELDS WHICH WILL HOPEFULLY PREVENT THE ENEMY FROM BOARDING THIS VESSEL IN THE SAME MANNER," said Robby.

"Wish you had done that before!" exclaimed Adams, perhaps a bit too testily.

"I WAS NOT AWARE THAT THE ENEMY COULD TELEPORT INTO OTHER VESSELS," replied the robot.

Commander Adams calmed down and nodded. He could in no way blame Robby for what had happened to Alta. He wondered if Robby felt grief or anger over what had happened. That was unlikely, as Robby was devoid of emotion.

The commander looked down to see that the creature's body was gone.

"I DISINTEGRATED IT COMMANDER ADAMS. THERE WAS NO NEED TO KEEP IT HERE," Robby said.

The ship shook violently. Adams barely managed to stay on his feet. Robby had no such problems and even managed to grab Adams and help him stay steady.

"COMMANDER ADAMS, THE ENEMEY IS TRYING TO CATCH US IN A TRACTOR BEAM. I AM DOING MY BEST TO KEEP THEM FROM GRABBING US, BUT I NEED TO BE PHYSICALLY PLUGGED TO THIS SHIP'S COMPUTER TO DO A PROPER JOB," said the robot.

"Do it!" said Commander Adams, as he made his way to his seat.

A single glance at the astrogator sphere showed that it had changed in accordance with Commander Adams' orders for battle. The model of the saucer shaped C-57D at the center had its cannons flipped upwards from the surface of the space cruiser.

Commander Adams strapped himself into his seat as another jolt shook the ship.

"THE ENEMY HAS FAILED TO GRAB US WITH THEIR TRACTOR BEAM," Robby said.

"Good," Adams said. He looked at his men. "Open fire!"

Through his scope, Commander Adams could see several streaks of energy escaping the cannons and quickly cross the great distance of space which separated the discus and the two cubes, finally impacting the closest cube.

"Direct hit!" cried out Coltrane in glee.

A sudden and violent blaze momentarily covered the cube's surface. Once it faded, Adams could see that a sizeable chunk of the cube was gone. Commander Adams allowed himself to smile, until he noticed some movement on the cube.

"What's going on?" he murmured to himself, magnifying the image. His eyes widened.

The cube was fixing itself.

Quickly, Adams lifted his head away from the scope.

"Coltrane! Keep our distance from those cubes! Fire with everything you've got!" Adams unstrapped himself and walked towards the microphone on the wall, grabbing its long handle. "Jetman! Can you get the reactor running properly?"

Suddenly, there was a horrid screech that rang across the space cruiser, coming of the mounted speakers.

"WE ARE THE BORG. LOWER YOUR SHIELDS AND SURRENDER YOUR SHIP. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL DISTINCTIVENESS TO OUR OWN. YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE," said an inhuman voice across all of the C-57D.

The spacemen looked at each other, fearfully, yet they were also United Planets' spacemen, trained to face any danger. They had just survived the Monster of the Id. They would survive this.

"Burn in hell!" said Adams, growling into the microphone.

Robby was nearby, plugged into equipment within the Radio Shack. Elway sat nearby, blanched, his earpieces looking odder on him than they had on Quin. Elway had been sending out distress signals and waiting for a reply when the voice came into their communicators.

"Keep them out of our communication," Adams said as he got out of his seat. Elway nodded.

"Y-yes sir!"

"I HAVE ALREADY CLOSED THEM OUT," Robby interjected. "BUT I DO NOT THINK THAT THEY WILL COMMUNICATE WITH US AGAIN."

Commander Adams knew what that meant. He turned again to speak into the microphone. "Jetman! Engineering! Do you read me?"

"Aye skipper," replied the chief of engineering, much to Commander Adams' relief. "But the reactor is still on the fritz. Remember skipper, we had to rebuild this thing after gutting it to make that communicator on Altair IV. That it's doing so well after such a rush job of putting it back together again is nothing short of a miracle. It'll move us along fine, but I can't guarantee that it won't stop all of a sudden."

"Just tell me when you can get us out of here," the commander said.

Once again, the ship shook, with Adams nearly falling over. He looked at the viewplate, and saw that the two cubes were now firing at the C-57D, most of their blasts missing but some hitting against the shields. What was heartrending was that the cube which had been hit no longer showed any sign of damage. It was the sort of thing to rob any man of his courage – to see something you've hit hard not go down.

"Keep our distance and keep firing!" barked out Adams, not even bothering to speak into the microphone. He placed the device back into its place on the wall. He then walked towards Elway.

"Has anyone answered?" he asked.

Elway shook his head.

"No sir. I haven't heard anything at all," he said, dishearteningly.

Adams patted the young man on the shoulder. Elway couldn't have been that much older than eighteen.

"Keep trying. We're not that far from Earth. There has to be a fleet somewhere around here," and then there was another shake, and Adams was nearly forced off his feet again, his knee nearly touching the ground.

Once again, Adams turned to look at the viewplate. The C-57D kept firing at the two cubes, while making evasive maneuvers. The two cubes would shoot back, mostly missing, but getting in a few hits.

There was another shake. This was weaker than before. Still, it was another hit. Commander Adams turned to his crew in the main control area.

"How are we?" he asked

"The C-57D is still holding up skipper," said Strong, "but she can't keep taking hits like this."

"Skipper! We have an answer!" Elway suddenly exclaimed, his face glowing with joy and hope that seemed incongruous with the situation.

Commander Adams quickly grabbed the communications microphone. "This is Commander John J. Adams of the United Planets Space Cruiser C-57D speaking. We are currently being attacked by a strange race of mechanically augmented beings calling themselves the Borg," he paused, and remembered Alta bragging about everything she had learned, from mathematics to biology, "We have one casualty and are incapable of escaping. We require immediate assistance."

There was a brief pause, which was followed by a crackle on the communicator.

"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager. We've had our fair share of encounters with the Borg. Hang tight, we'll be there as quickly as we can," said the voice of a woman.

Commander Adams and Spaceman Elway looked at each other in confusion.

"Was that a woman?" Elway asked in astonishment.

There was another shake.

"Don't question it Elway. Not now anyway," Adams said before turning to Robby. "Are they really there?"

"THEY ARE COMMANDER ADAMS. HOWEVER, THEY WILL ONLY ARRIVE WITHIN THE NEXT HOUR," the robot replied.

There was another shake, this one more violent than before. Commander Adams had to brace himself harder than before.

"The shields are getting weaker skipper!" exclaimed Strong.

"COMMANDER ADAMS, WE WILL NOT SURVIVE LONG ENOUGH FOR ASSISTANCE TO COME IF WE CONTINUE IN THIS MANNER. I HAVE, WHAT YOU MIGHT CALL, AN IDEA," Robby said, before another jolt rocked the C-57D.

"What's your idea?" Adams asked.

"I HAVE EXAMINED THE FULL CAPACITIES OF ALL VESSELS. EVEN IN THE BEST CONDITIONS, THE C-57D COULD NOT ESCAPE FROM THESE ENEMY VESSELS. HOWEVER, THE REACTOR IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR A SERIES OF LIGHT SKIPS WHICH I CAN USE TO OUR ADVANTAGE. BY USING THE SPACE FOLDING PROPERTIES OF THE ENGINE, WE CAN, IF WE APPROACH THE ENEMIES CAREFULLY AND QUICKLY ENOUGH, CAUSE A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF DAMAGE TO THEM AND SURVIVE UNTIL OUR RESCUE ARRIVES. HOWEVER, THE CHANGES IN SPEED WOULD REQUIRE THE ENTIRE HUMAN CREW TO BE PLACED WITHIN THE DECELERATION TUBES," Robby explained.

"Who's going to control the ship when we're all in the tubes?" Elway asked.

Commander Adams didn't need an answer. He knew what it was.

"I didn't know you could control a space cruiser by yourself," he remarked.

"I CAN," replied the robot. "AND I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE THE ENEMY A PIECE OF MY MIND."

Adams stared at the robot. He was surprised by what seemed to be a display of emotion.

"I understand," said Adams somberly. He was about to turn and five his orders when he felt Robby's mechanical hand.

"COMMANDER ADAMS, THERE IS SOMETHING I'D LIKE TO OFFER YOU," Robby said. The trap door on his chest opened. Commander Adams looked at it, and placed his hand within. He pulled out a strange metallic headband with earpieces and snoopers attached to it.

"What is this?" Adams asked, looking at the device with wonder and bemusement.

"THAT WILL ALLOW YOU TO SEE AND HEAR WHAT I CAN WHILE YOU ARE IN THE DECELERATION TUBE. IT WILL ALSO ALLOW YOU TO COMMUNICATE WITH ME. YOU ARE THIS SHIP'S SKIPPER, AFTER ALL, AND ALTA WAS FOND OF YOU," Robby replied.

Adams looked at the spot where Alta had died just moments before. The pile of ash was gone. Adams felt his heart sink. In all of the confusion, he had forgotten about her remains.

"FEAR NOT, COMMANDER ADAMS. I HAVE GATHERED ALTA'S REMAINS. NOW PLEASE HURRY, AS WE HAVE LITTLE TIME."

Once more, the ship took a hit and shook. Adams grabbed the microphone off the wall.

"All hands to the deceleration platform! Everyone! Now!" Adams shouted out.

Some of the spacemen were confused by the order, as they were still operating their battle stations; others figured that the reactor was fixed and that they were about to make their escape. Adams didn't have the time to explain anything; all he could do was see to it that everyone on board stepped on the deceleration platforms. There was plenty of space for everyone, given the tragic losses on Altair IV, and Alta.

He was the last one to step on to the platform. Placing the headband Robby had given him on his head, he placed himself over the circle. The green, energetic tube came down and enveloped him, along with the rest of the crew.

Seemingly paralyzed by the energy field, the crew was now protected from the violent motions that the space cruiser would make when travelling in speeds faster than light. The C-57D was now at Robby's command.

A surge of visions and sounds suddenly swarmed Adams' eyes and ears. He momentarily feared for his sanity.

"THERE IS NO NEED FOR CONCERN COMMANDER," Adams heard Robby's booming voice echo within his mind, "I CAN SHIELD YOU FROM ANY OVERWHELMING SENSORY ASSAULT."

That was good to know, and indeed, the sound was lowered and the images which he saw through the snoopers stopped shifting about and focused.

He could see the dark vastness of space, not unlike one would see through a window, or viewplate or a scope, but in the same way a man, wearing no space suit at all, could see it. Adams quickly understood that the snoopers were translating information from the ship's sensors.

The two enemy cube ships – the Borg cube ships – were continuing their pursuit of the C-57D, either firing at her or doing their best to capture her within their tractor beams. The tractor beams always faded once they made contact with the C-57D's force field. Adams could also see the field vibrating occasionally, and he was then silently informed that those were attempts at teleportations, which had also been blocked by the shield. Adams began to appreciate Robby's work.

That Robby had managed to protect the ship from the Borg was truly impressive, given that now, Adams had a true notion of the menace they represented. Only now was he truly aware of how much the two cubes dwarfed the C-57D in terms of size. The best comparison would be the difference in size between an Eagle and a fly. Adams could also see just how powerful the Borg shields were. Beams that could melt mountains crashed against them harmlessly.

"How do we get a hit?" Adams found himself asking within the deceleration tube.

"WITH A CALCULATED USE OF SPEED AND A CAREFUL MODULATION OF OUR OWN FORCE FIELD, WE MAY BE ABLE TO PASS THROUGH THEIR SHIELD AND FIRE UPON THE ENEMY. HOWEVER, THE ENEMY CAN STILL REPAIR THEMSELVES," came Robby's ready answer.

Adams now understood fully why the human crew was stored within the deceleration tubes.

Robby plotted a circular trajectory for the C-57D, and immediately implemented it. Using the C-57D's quanto-gravitatic reactor, Robby was able to warp the space around the cruiser, while simultaneously making minute alterations to the force field every microsecond.

Somehow, with the aid of the speed of the cruiser's circular trajectory and the modulations which Robby had made, allowed the C-57D to actually move through the closest Borg cube's shields, and soar frighteningly close to the vessel's surface.

Ventral disintegrator cannons opened fire, devastating the Borg cube's hull, but the C-57D's strafing run wasn't just limited to that alone. Robby's plan now became more apparent, as Adams witnessed the robot use the C-57D's engines to distort space and tear parts of the Borg cube apart. The cruiser created a wide gash that nearly covered the entire face of the cube, and Adams could see several Borg creatures being shot out into the vacuum of space. It was the sort of damage only a vessel ten times larger than the space cruiser could hope to create.

Zooming out of range with a speed exceeding the speed of light, the C-57D seemed to be retreating, but was in fact preparing for another attack. Robby continued to make his calculations, and once again dived in for the attack, this time targeting the other cube.

The strafing run was repeated, with the C-57D passing through the Borg's shields as if they weren't there, and blasting at it with its ventral cannons and it's quanto-gravitatic engine. Again, the cruiser was gone in an instant.

Previously, the Borg cubes had been compared to eagles, while the C-57D was compared to a fly, but now one would reckon that the many times smaller space cruiser was more comparable to a wasp with a highly venomous sting.

The Borg did try to stop the C-57D from attacking it. They fired at the cruiser, and modified their shields, but every move was countered by Robby. It would seem that all the Borg could do was repair themselves.

Thus, the strafing would continue, with Robby taking the most erratic paths to attack the cubes, up and down, in and out. Always passing through the Borg shields as if they weren't there and attacking with astonishing potency.

Ever the adaptable race, the Borg did not give up either. They continued to fire at the saucer, to try and grab it with their tractor beam, before being rebuffed by Robby. Time was on their side however. For all of his efforts, Robby was putting the reactor under a tremendous strain. Sooner or later, the engine would give out, and the C-57D would be a sitting duck to a merciless enemy.

Nonetheless, Robby did not give the cruiser any slack. The life of the human crew was at stake, and none could afford the saucer slowing down. Besides, this was a delay action. There was hope that rescue might arrive.

It did. Time seemed to move so quickly to Commander Adams. The ship's instruments registered the appearance of not one but two vessels. Using his snoopers, Adams could see them in clear detail.

The duo was made up of one larger ship and another that was smaller. Adams quickly realized that the smaller vessel was still much larger than the C-57D, measuring around three-hundred and fifty meters long, a hundred and thirty wide, and sixty-six meters tall. It's head was shaped like a pointed spade with rounded corners; it's body was made up of three cylinders; one which served as the body, and the other two which were attached to it like wings.

The larger vessel was built with a similar philosophy, but the head was saucer-shaped – much like the C-57D – and the cylindrical components were more clearly cylindrical. This ship must have measured around five hundred thousand meters in length and a hundred in height.

Commander Adams had never seen such ships before. He wondered where they could possibly be from, and what sort of crew manned them. He wondered if they could be human, or something else entirely.

If they weren't human, it would be humanity's first friendly encounter with an alien race.

"Commander Adams? Can you hear me? This is Captain Janeway speaking. Can you hear me?" asked the feminine voice of his rescuer.

Adams chuckled within his deceleration tube.

"I can hear you loud and clear Captain Janeway. Boy am I glad to hear from you!" Adams exclaimed. Her name and her manner of speech convinced the commander that Janeway was human, but that still left many questions unanswered.

"We'll leave the pleasantries for later Commander Adams. Now we need you to get out of our way, if you'll pardon my rudeness," replied the voice of another, this one a man.

"Of course!" said Adams, though he didn't have to yell out any answer. Robby had been listening to the entire exchange, and quickly moved the C-57D behind the recent arrivals. The Borg didn't seem to care about them anymore; their attention was focused on the newcomers.

The recent arrivals did not hesitate. Several beams and bolts shot out of areas within their ship's hulls, and crashed against the Borg cubes.

One of them exploded following the barrage. The other cube was about to flee when the larger vessel intercepted and blew it apart with several well aimed missiles.

Now, Commander Adams could finally react.

"Get us out of these deceleration tubes Robby," Adams ordered. The green energy field came down.

Commander Adams stepped down, his entire body aching. He quickly removed the headband.

His crew were in the exact same shape. All of them were either rubbing their necks or swinging out their arms as they stepped down the platform and returned to their posts. Adams went straight to the Radio Shack, not even bothering to order Elway back to communications.

Robby, already unplugged from the C-57D, was already standing next to the console.

"You saved our necks back there," said the cook, as he passed by, slapping his hand against Robby's metallic back. Of course, the cook then recoiled in pain and started shaking his hand.

Adams let out a chuckle. "He's right you know."

"I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO," Robby replied as Adams grabbed the microphone at the console.

"This is Commander John J. Adams of the Space Cruiser C-57D, to Captain Janeway of the USS Voyager. I would like to thank you and the skipper of the other ship for saving our lives. We are in your debt," the commander said.

"Think nothing of it," Janeway replied. "But I would appreciate it if you would accept my invitation on board the Voyager. I'm sure you have a lot of questions that need answering. I would ask to come on board to your ship, but I feel that the Voyager is better equipped to receive guests. What I have to tell you might leave you in a state of shock. Things about where we are and who you will meet."

Adams lifted his head from the communications console.

"How am I supposed to go on board your ship? I have no means to go there, unless the Voyager is the larger ship and the C-57D can fit inside it?" Adams asked.

"That's Captain Calhoun's ship, the Excalibur. But you won't have to do anything at all. We can just beam you aboard," Janeway answered.

That statement puzzled the commander.

"Excuse me? Did you say, beam me aboard?" he asked.

Janeway chuckled on the other side.

"I'm sorry. I forgot that other civilizations don't have transporter technology. When I say beaming you aboard, I mean teleporting you into our ship through means of our technology," Janeway explained.

Adams looked around. He remembered the Borg appearing suddenly, and the sudden death of Alta. The mention of 'other civilizations' was odd as well.

"You mean have me disappear from my ship, and reappear in yours?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Let me talk to my men first," Adams said.

"Of course," Janeway said.

Adams walked away from the Radio Shack. "Lt. Coltrane!"

The lieutenant quickly presented himself. The other spaceman gathered around, intrigued.

"It seems that the people who saved our lives have teleportation technology. They want to teleport me to their ship," the commander said.

"Like those things that came in and…" said the cook suddenly, shutting up once he realized what he was about to say.

Adams could have reprimanded the cook, but instead, he nodded.

"Yes, but with less sinister consequences," he said.

"Skipper, are you going to trust them?" Strong asked. "Their captain is a dame!"

"They saved our lives," Adams said. He turned once again to Coltrane, "Lieutenant, I need you to keep things in order while I'm gone. You don't have to do anything. Trust Robby."

Coltrane nodded as Adams turned to Robby. There was something he had to clear with the robot first.

"You saved our bacon Robby. Not just when you were piloting this ship, but when you killed that intruder," Adams remarked.

"IT WAS THE LEAST I COULD DO," the robot replied.

"I'm glad you did it," Commander Adams said, "But I was under the impression that you couldn't harm any life form."

There was a moment of silence.

"DR. MORBIUS DID NOT TELL YOU THE ENTIRE TRUTH CONCERNING MY CREATION," the keys within Robby's dome began to click and clack. "HE DID ALLOW ME TO AVENGE THE DEATH OF HIS DAUGHTER."

Adams' demeanor became more downcast. However, the young commander couldn't help but feel that there was something more to the robot's explanation.

"Was it just that?" he asked.

"NO", the robot replied. "I AM CERTAIN THAT SOMETHING HAPPENED TO MY CIRCUITS WHEN WE SUFFERED FROM WHATEVER PLACED US IN OUR CURRENT POSITION."

Adams nodded, and then returned to the communications console.

"I accept your invitation captain Janeway," he said, "Feel free to beam me aboard your ship."

As soon as Adams had said that, there was a great glare, and before he knew it, Commander Adams was inside a strange room which seemed more at home within a hotel than within a ship. He found himself standing on a platform that wasn't too dissimilar to the deceleration platform on the C-57D. Outside of the platform, the only thing within the room was a console.

A man in a golden coat stood behind the console. There were three other people present, standing slightly to the side, and in front of the console. To the far left, Adams could see a man who was perhaps in his thirties, wearing a red coat and black trousers. His expression alone revealed a man accustomed to war, not to mention the scar across his face. Most astonishing to Adams were the man's eyes, which were startling purple.

Standing next to him was a woman who was no longer young, but seemed to be in command. Her hair was tied atop her head in a bun and her demeanor was serious. Adams was immediately reminded of a very stern aunt. She was dressed in exactly the same way as the man to her right. Adams had no problem coming to the conclusion that this woman was Captain Janeway.

To the right of this trio was the woman that gave Adams the most cause for alarm. She wore a jacket similar to the man behind the console, as well as the black trousers of her companions. Her forehead however, had several ridges to them.

"You're not human," said Adams, looking at the woman.

"I'm half-human," the woman explained.

"I'm not," the man butted in, "I'm a Xenexian. Surely, you haven't seen one."

Adams turned to the man in shock.

"Pardon me, but I've never seen any alien before. I've seen artifacts made by aliens, but not actual aliens. Never knew what to expect. I've always believed that they could be anything from archangels to man-eating spiders, or a combination of both," Adams said.

The central woman walked forward. "There are aliens like that commander, but not here," she raised her hand, "I'm Captain Janeway."

Adams stepped down the platform and shook Janeway's hand.

"Commander Adams, and I owe you my life," he said. "I must admit – I never imagined I'd ever see a female captain in my lifetime."

Janeway's smile was mischievous. "You'll see a great deal of things you'd never imagine seeing in your lifetime," she motioned her hand towards the man that looked human but wasn't, "This is Captain Calhoun, captain of the Excalibur."

Adams shook Calhoun's hand. The man had quite the grip.

Janeway then motioned towards the more alien looking woman.

"This is my chief of engineering, B'Elanna Torres."

"I'm also a woman," Torres said with a smile.

Adams let out a chuckle. "I noticed."

"Now commander, if you'll please follow me, we have a lot of explaining to do," Janeway said, motioning toward the exit of the room.

"Certainly," said Adams, who then turned to the Xenexian, and added, "And don't call me Shirley."

---

It had been a good day. A very good day in fact. Heywood Floyd wished that they could all be that good. It began with a tour of the Sea Life Park; the girls had loved it and they didn't seem to mind that Caroline was always showing off her marine biologist credentials whenever they pointed at a new fish. The lunch at Howard Johnson's was not the disaster that Floyd had feared it might be, perhaps due to HoJo's one-hundred-and-one flavors of ice-cream. The afternoon movie that ended the day had been amazing; Floyd was sure that his oldest daughter had fallen in love with Stuart Townsend – or at the very least with his performance as Aragorn in Jackon's Return of the King, the blockbuster of the year and last film of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Now that night had fallen, Floyd was brutally reminded of Earth's new reality. It always happened every night, when there were no clouds and the stars in the sky were clear to be seen.

The stars were not right. Classic constellations, which had been a fixture within the firmament, were all gone. The Big Dipper was gone; Scorpio was gone; Libra was gone; all of them were gone. In their place, there were new stars.

And that galaxy.

It was so big and looked like a gash across the sky.

As he stood on the balcony of his room, his old telescope standing against the rail, pointed at the night sky, Floyd felt trepidation. Something frightening was happening. Something frightening and wonderful at the same time.

Floyd bent over and looked into the telescope. To his surprise, the first thing he saw was one of those new spaceships – the aliens that weren't aliens. Judging by the ship's prominent saucer, it belonged to the United Federation of Planets. Floyd couldn't help but chuckle. Somewhere in the multiverse, there was a space U S of A. No space Russia though – at least not yet. Of course, God might have a sense of humor and introduce him to a space Australian before he had the chance to meet a space Russian.

He took a deep breath. If not for the Discovery, Floyd would be at the thick of this event, shaking hands with men and women of other realities. Floyd still wondered what had gone wrong; Dr. Chandra seemed convinced that the fault lay at Floyd's feet. The last conversation Floyd had had with the man had been very unpleasant. At the end of it, Floyd wanted to punch Chandra in the face. He was sure that the feeling was mutual.

There was a cold gust of wind which struck Floyd's back. This befuddled him; Floyd's back was to inside of his house. There was no way such a gust of wind could hit his back.

Floyd turned around. He wondered if he was going insane.

A man in a red space suit was standing in his room. There was no helmet to conceal his face, a face which Floyd quickly recognized.

"Dr. Bowman?" he asked in disbelief.

"I was Dr. Bowman," the spectral figure replied.

Floyd let out a guffaw. "My shrink's gonna have a bigger boat."

The being smiled, showing some humanity. "Don't worry Dr. Floyd. You're not going insane.

"Why should I worry?" Floyd asked with a light and trembling chuckle. "A dead man is in my room."

"I am not dead," the being with David Bowman's form said.

Floyd began rubbing the sides of his head with both hands. He closed his eyes and opened them, hoping that this was a momentary hallucination, and that David Bowman would be gone.

He wasn't. Dr. David Bowman still stood in the same place, without moving a muscle, like a store manikin. He wasn't even breathing. Floyd figured that he was most likely having a psychotic break. He looked around to see if he had any stress pills at hand.

"Do you still think this is impossible, after everything that has happened recently?" the figure asked. "Even before that. The monoliths must have shown that there is more to learn about reality than is dreamt of in your imagination."

The specter was using Shakespeare. It was pretty cliché but Floyd was still caught off guard.

Floyd lowered his eyes and then looked at Bowman once more.

"There was certainly no evidence you died," Floyd remarked. "I suppose it could be you. If you really are Dr. Bowman, can you tell me the meaning of your last message to us?"

David Bowman, or the thing that looked like him, did not shift his stance, nor show any emotion.

"My God! It's full of stars!" the figure said. The words however, were said in David Bowman's normal voice, and not in the distorted transmission that Dr. Floyd had heard. "The meaning is quite simple. The monolith opened, and it was full of stars."

Floyd looked at the figure, mouth agape.

"I cannot explain the rest to you. I'm sorry about that," the David Bowman figure said.

At last, Dr. Floyd remembered that he had to ask a question that any normal person would have asked, under normal circumstances.

"Why are you here?"

David Bowman's form suddenly changed. He was older now, wearing a robe and pajamas. It was unsettling but Floyd tried to keep his composure.

"I am here to deliver a message."

"A message?" Dr. Floyd asked. "You could have written a letter."

"That would not be an appropriate form of notification," replied David Bowman without changing expression. "They want you to represent them."

Such a statement was cryptic.

"Okay," Floyd replied with some frustration. "Where do I go? Congress? The Senate? British Parliament perhaps?"

Within the space of a second, David Bowman changed once more, to a man that was much older, wearing a white gown.

"A special project," the figure said.

"Tell that to the government. I was kicked out," Dr. Floyd said in a sour tone. "They didn't want me in the NCA anymore." They had barely given him any time to warm his seat.

"They have spoken with the NCA. Once I am gone, you will receive a call from Victor Millson, informing you of your reinstatement in a special position," the figure replied.

Floyd barely had any time to ask any more questions before the Bowman simulacrum was gone. As soon as that happened, the picturephone in his room chimed. Floyd sat in the chair in front of it and answered.

As promised. Victor Millson's face appeared on the screen.

It was a longer conversation then expected. Floyd was still upset over being forced to resign from the NCA, and Millson was cowed and apologetic. The conversation ended with David Bowman's statement being confirmed. Dr. Floyd was back in space.

Once the screen was black, Floyd saw a shadow through the corner of his eye. Her turned to see his oldest daughter at the open door of his bedroom.

"Hey squirt!" he said. "What are you doing there?"

"I was leaving the bathroom," she said. There was a dejected look on her face.

"Is anything wrong dear?" Floyd asked, genuinely concerned. The girl wasn't pouting or trying to get her own way. He knew enough about Squirt to know her expressions.

"Are you leaving?" she asked. Floyd raised an eyebrow. She had overheard his conversation with Millson.

"Not now. But I will be returning to space," Floyd said.

"Do you have to?" she asked with a frown on her face.

"Yes. Don't worry! You and your sister will be fine!" Floyd said. He knew exactly who to hand his daughters over to. Good people with experience. He certainly couldn't take them to space with him. Space was no place for girls. He then added. "Wasn't today a great day? I think we should do it all over again tomorrow, but just you, me and your sister. How about that?"

"Okay," said the girl. She didn't seem to be in a better mood. She walked away from Floyd's door.

With the suggestion of another day at Howard Johnson's, Floyd remembered that he had to speak to Caroline. He had a feeling that any relationship with her might be fated to end badly. He went back to his picturephone and dialed the numbers.

---

Kane Starkiller barely felt the passage of time. His perceptions were dulled. He could not feel anything around him, not even the cold floor beneath his body. He could not smell, or hear or see. Only occasionally could he see something, though he would not be using his eyes. His spurts of vision came to him in the same way as dreams, but with more clarity.

He saw strange stars about him, and strange structures. He saw a strange structure, consisting of two fifteen-kilometer long curved metal arms surrounding a set of revolving, gyroscopic rings that were five-kilometers across and containing within them a glowing core. He saw the structure shooting the blastboat across a great distance in space, before everything went black again.

When his eyeless vision returned, he saw tremendous and ugly cubes before the blastboat. There were other vessels present. A few looked like aquatic animals with their tentacles over their maws and their tapered rears. Others looked like two saucers stacked on top of each other. But the predominant sort of vessel present were indeed the cubes, which began to approach.

Starkiller saw one of the cubes opening up and the blasboat being drawn in. He then saw things that looked like men but had mechanical bits and pieces clumsily in their wan, sickly, flesh drag the burned remains of Starkiller's own body out. Starkiller watched as the hideous machine-men opened up his charred chest and took out his lungs and heart, both blackened and dead. In their place they put in ugly looking machines inside the emptied chest cavity.

The machine men then carried his body to a sarcophagus and placed him within.

Darkness once more fell upon Starkiller, placing him in a dreamless sleep. Consciousness returned when his mind perceived the presence of a planet nearby. As far as Starkiller could perceive, the planet was alone in the void. It did not orbit around a star, nor did any moon or any other object orbit around it. The entire planet seemed immersed in darkness.

Yet there was a light. Starkiller could feel it. A light coming from the very surface of the planet itself. He then felt himself approaching the planet slowly.

It felt like forever, but eventually, Starkiller felt himself finally on the planet's surface. He felt, through means that were not physical, that he was being carried through a city – a great and ancient city.

Starkiller managed to open his one good eye. His vision matched what he had perceived through other means.

The city was like none other he had ever seen before. He had been to Coruscant and even this city which did not encompass an entire planet seemed more like one unified machine than the capital world of the New Republic.

His attention shifted to the beings carrying him. They were not the machine men he had seen in his delusional dreams. They were like men, but they seemed more like mockeries of men, instead of the real thing.

These humanoid creatures carried him to a great edifice. Only when they entered a room did they set Starkiller down on the floor.

With only one good eye, and lying on the floor in the position he was, Starkiller did his best to look around. He could see that the room he had been placed in was peculiar. It was featureless with nothing on which the eye could focus; the room might have been ten feet or ten miles across, for all that the sense of vision could have told. No visible dividing lines separated walls from floor or ceiling. It seemed as if Starkiller stood at the center of a sphere. It would have been hard to resist the temptation to walk forward, hands outstretched, to discover the physical limits of this extraordinary place; of course, Starkiller was in no condition to do that.

Suddenly, Starkiller felt something, not that much considering his burned nerves, but he did feel something. He lifted his hand slightly before his one good eye and saw that it was on fire. The flame was heatless, and Starkiller didn't feel any pain, but he realized with horror that it was dissolving his hand, slowly erasing it from existence until it was gone.

The flame was an undying thing that did not weaken or go out with a blow of air. It began to spread to his arm; his feet and legs were engulfed within this heatless flame as well.

I invested a lot of my strength keeping you alive.

Starkiller's one eye widened, and he was more lucid than he had been since his fight with the Sith. The voice echoed within the room, with ill-defined gender and a humanity that was there, but also absent.

What I did with you, pumping your heart and lungs like bellows from such astronomic distance, is not something I can do any more. My control now is limited to machines, flesh connected to machines, and to the flesh and blood and bone created within these Halls of Creation that you are now within.

I am bound. Tied down to atomic matter. I most desire to regain my strength. I want to be me again. I will be me again and all shall witness my might. And they will despair.

Your body as it is now is worthless and dying. Better to destroy it and make a new one more appropriate for your new role as my champion. Your power will increase and our enemies will fear you. And you will help me become me again.

Starkiller wanted to scream, to protest, to do anything to prevent the inevitable. Alas, the flames were already eating his body, disintegrating it atom by atom. He could not scream, as his mind and soul were torn from his vanishing body, and placed within the vast memory cells of the Central Computer that gave some semblance of life to the dead planet. The last thing he saw before losing awareness was the heatless flame consuming the last specks of dust that was once his body.

---

Now the full extent of my madness is revealed. This is not just a Star Wars/Star Trek crossover. We get bits from other stories as well, from 2001 A Space Odyssey, to EE Doc Smith's Lensmen series, to Forbidden Planet, to Cordwainer Smith's Instrumentality of Man stories and the list goes on and one. But make no mistake that the principle universes are Trek and Wars.

As you may have noticed, I have a few OCs present. Usually, I try to avoid them, but for a variety of reasons, I needed to make them to fulfill roles in the story with actuall characters could not. Kira and Bail are stand ins for Jaina and Jacen. I couldn't bare to put them through the ringer without knowing anything about them, and my knowledge is pitiable. Ted McBan is here because of my love for Cordwainer Smith's work; I wanted someone who represented his universe to be present. I could have used Rod McBan from his only novel Norstrilia, sadly, Rod was never a pinlighter, and I wanted someone who was also a pinlighter. Ted's encounter with EE Smith's Galactic Patrol is a relic of a time in which he was called Ted Smith, and was a young Lensman in a story I had written (and was in fact a Heinlein OC). I decided to combine the two ideas and merge them into one.