"Gillian?" said Kirk across the small table. "Do you agree?"

"Uh? Oh, sorry Jim. My mind was elsewhere. Guess I'm not very good company tonight."

"What's wrong? I thought George and Gracie were all recovered."

"They are! Maybe my hectic schedule is catching up with me." She tried to concentrate so her mind wouldn't drift to impossible problems with unthinkable solutions. "Did you hear, they want me to teach a seminar on humpbacks next week at UCNC."

"Really? That's great!"

"Jim?" she asked apprehensively.

"What?"

"I was embarrassed to ask, after all that I don't know and have to have explained, but...what is UCNC?"

He grinned. "University of California, New City."

"Oh!" she said, grinning also. The grin faded suddenly. "Where's that?"

"New City, on Mars. It was the first city, now it's the oldest city. I trust they're providing transportation?"

"All expenses paid...Jim, it's all so incredible. Me, teaching a class on Mars? I wonder...maybe I'm not meant to be here, I mean all those problems, the changes in the time continuum, and—"

"Gillian! I don't mean to bring you down, but where do you get that idea that you caused all that? You were only one of several factors that altered time."

"Well" she said petulantly, reaching for her notes, "If I'm such an insignificant factor, I guess I'll be getting back."

It took him several seconds to realize she was kidding, and it took her quite a bit longer than that to stop laughing at the look on his face before he did. "Okay, okay," he complained. "Listen, I've got something else to get you out of your slump, besides laughing at me."

"What's that?"

"Here." He handed her a computer chip. "I finished the history you wanted."

"Already? Thanks, Jim! I can't wait to read it. Only I still don't understand why I couldn't read the Enterprise's historical summaries."

"Because," he said with an embarrassed smile, "I wanted you to read my exploits as I remember them, not as this altered time has them recorded."

"Exploits, eh?"

"Well, missions. Experiences. Adventures—"

"Okay, Buck Rogers, I get the point."

"Who?"

"Never mind. He's before your time. He's actually before my time, too. Oh, look! Here comes our dinner."

"Gillian?" called Ron as he entered the Hawking's biolab. "We're missing two canisters of the Oceanus antiviral. Have you...Gillian? Hey! Anybody here?" He glanced at her terminal...the screen was blank. Her notes were not on the counter where she usually kept them when she was working. He shook his head and was about to leave when the comm sounded, and he flipped the switch.

"Oh, hi, Ron. Gillian there?"

He made a face, "Hello, Captain. No, she isn't here. I figured she was still with you. I just finished our last data run for the night and was going to tell her about the results if she was back."

"But she has to be back. She left over two hours ago," said Kirk. "Is her shuttle there?"

"Huh?" replied Ron, a concerned frown breaking on his face. "She didn't have the shuttle."

"What? She told me she flew in to San Francisco in the research shuttle."

"She did, but she asked me to go along to fly it back. She told me you'd take her home."

Kirk started his own frown. "What the hell? Are you sure, Ron?"

"Of course! I dropped her off at the university and brought the shuttle back this afternoon."

"See if she left a message on her comm," instructed Kirk.

"Aye, aye, sir!" grumped Ron, sitting down at the console. He touched a few keys, then looked up and said, "There's a coded message for you, but it's encapsulated."

"Is the key coded?"

"Ah...nope. Says here you can get the message at 0900 hours tomorrow."

"Patch it over!"

"I don't know if I can. The encapsulation might..." He tried a couple of keys. "No, it won't take it."

"What kind of lame-brained software do you have?"

Ron glared at Kirk's image on the screen. "The kind that poor scientists get after all the big bucks have gone to the military!"

The captain's visage hardened for a moment, then he grinned. "Touché, sir!" he laughed. "Let me see if I can call it over with my...more powerful software. What's the signature?"

Ron called up the data, "The encapsulation is logged as line 5679, terminal 51, entry GT-7998, today's date, 1349 hours."

"Got it. Hold a minute...There! It's here. Hmm, it's not very long."

"Most Dear Johns aren't," Ron said smugly. To Kirk's scowl he replied, "I just figured if she decided not to have you bring her home and left you a cap, she probably wanted to—"

"Thank you very much, Mr. Fairbanks," snapped Kirk, cutting the link. "Now what?" he mumbled to himself. "Wait until tomorrow morning for this stupid software's stupid encapsulation to decode? Stupid software..."

He reached for the comm and opened a contact to Spock's apartment.

Gillian reached for the small communicator she had hidden in her pocket. She flipped it open cautiously and fiddled with a control. "Archie," she whispered. "Can you beam me aboard?"

"Is that you, Gillian?" came the computer's voice from the tiny speaker.

"Yes! Where are you?"

"Over at the officer's parking area, behind the main social hall. Scotty's at a party, and he's wearing his kilt, so I don't expect him back until late. Or, rather, early."

"Can you get a fix on me?" she asked. "I've got a whole bag of stuff with me."

"Sure, just leave your communicator's circuit open. Are you sitting?"

"Am now. Go!"

She materialized, crouched on the tiny transporter platform. Archie asked, "What are you doing here alone?"

Gillian shuffled her feet nervously. "Important business. Look, I need to ask you to do me a favor. A really big favor."

Archie paused before replying. "A big favor, eh? What is it?"

"What do you know of the time disruptions that have happened recently?"

"Plenty. The Enterprise's main board has been complaining how hard Spock has been working her on his dumb calculations."

Gillian stared at the console speaker. "The computer has been complaining?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, that's what the static in her primary circuits amounts to. She's not programmed to complain."

"And you are!" she laughed.

"Of course! My former owner—"

"The smuggler?"

"Nah, the one before him. He got arrested for illegal dumping on Vulcan and served three years in rehab there. After that, he couldn't stand anyone who wasn't full of emotions. Had me programmed to feel anything you can, Gillian."

For a moment she was afraid that might be true. "Do you ever get scared?"

"Not often. But there was the time some guy pulled a phaser on my owner. He had the nerve to stand in front of me. Do you realize how little protection a human body is against a phaser blast? I could've lost half my circuitry!"

"So what'd you do?"

"I upped the CO2 ratio until they both passed out, and meanwhile I summoned the authorities."

"Good thinking. So you were scared then, huh?"

"No way! It was afterwards. When the cops arrived, they found all the contraband and arrested my owner—the smuggler this time. He threatened to wipe my memories when he got out."

"Obviously he didn't."

"He never got the chance," answered the computer with a believable laugh. "He made so much trouble in rehab that they moved him to that colony on Pern III. The ship was dismantled and I was sold to the highest bidder."

"Scotty!"

"Yeah," groaned Archie. "But at least he had the good taste to bring you along sometimes. Hey! Is there something going on between you two?"

"Archie! No, there is not."

"How about with that bigshot, what's his name? Curt?"

"It's Kirk, and the answer is no. Look, I came to ask you a favor."

"Right. What is it?"

"I need you to take me somewhere."

"Sure. Strap in." The lights dimmed as the computer began initial sequences.

"Wait!" she yelled.

The lights came back up. "What's the matter?"

"It has to be a secret trip. No one can know about it or track us."

"No problem! You've come to the right place. Where are we going?"

She paused. "Earth."

"Gillian," said Archie patronizingly. "We're already on Earth."

"I need to be on Twentieth Century Earth."

"Oh!" exclaimed the computer. "Why didn't you say so?" Suddenly his voice got very loud. "Gillian! Are you crazy! This is a shuttlecraft, not a time machine!"

"But you said! You said you could slingshot around the sun and..."

"I said I could compute such a trajectory! Only an idiot would try it in this scow!"

Silently giving thanks that Scotty wasn't there to hear that, she said, "But this is the finest warp-capable shuttlecraft there is!"

"And it's going to stay that way! Nobody's going to try throwing it at the sun."

The computer fell silent, and she could almost feel a "harrumph" from it. After a few moments she said sweetly, "Archie?"

There was no response.

"Archie, dear. Didn't Scotty say you were the finest navcomp ever programmed?"

"Yes," came the terse reply, but she thought she detected interest in his voice.

"And isn't this the finest shuttlecraft ever outfitted?"

"Look, Gillian. I see where you're headed, but—"

This time she interrupted him. "Archie! My first trip in a warp ship was a slingshot time jump in a Klingon rustbucket. I thought this ship was more capable, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I'll just have to find a nice Klingon willing to—"

"I'll tell you what a Klingon would be willing to—"

"Don't! Will you do it, Archie? Please? Please!"

"Why do you have to go?" he asked, obviously already giving in.

"I need to take some antiviral and inoculate the oceans of the past with it."

"Oh," he said, clearly unimpressed. "And then you'll pick up a sandwich and warp on home, I suppose."

She answered very softly, "No. I'm not coming back."

"What? And what am I supposed to do? Shuttle you to Mars and back for vacations until I'm old and corroded?"

"Archie, back then there were no resorts on Mars."

"Egads! A barbaric society!"

"Look, can't you go back by yourself?"

"Seeing as I'd be taking you there without any help from you in the first place—"

"Then you will do it! You're a darling!"

"That I am not. But I am a pushover for pretty redheads."

"I'm not a redhead."

"Is it my fault Scotty didn't wire opticals in? So—and I'm crazier than that kilted Scotsman for doing this and he'll kill me for sure when I get back, if I get back, and it'll all be your fault—where are we going, or when?"

"1986."

"Nineteen eighty-six! What, no date? No special time? What do you think? You just plug in the coordinates, lunge at the sun, and come out, stopping wherever you wanted? You're talking rough estimates here! Even Spock admits it's guesswork!"

"Okay! As close as you can get would be fine."

"Well," he replied, his voice switching a hundred eighty degrees in tone, "I should be able to come quite close. Give me a few minutes to compute. Meanwhile, you open that door marked 'Oxygen' and assemble the mask in there."

"Why?" she asked worriedly. "Do you expect problems with life support?"

"No," he replied distractedly, clearly already computing, "but it'll keep you out of my hair while I work."

Gillian stared at the screen without seeing anything. She wondered if she could ever get used to the marvel of space travel, even if she stayed on in this century. She grabbed on to this to help her argue with herself. Maybe this was the time continuum's way of letting her know she was in the wrong place. Maybe this unsettled feeling she had was because she belonged back in 1986. Maybe she ruined everything by forcing her way onto the Bounty. Maybe. Maybe. Then why did she keep wondering if she wasn't being stupid? She wished she could talk to Jim; she was glad she couldn't. She pushed the hair out of her face and looked at Jupiter, which almost filled the field of view, a swirling mass of color and awesome size. "Okay, Gillian, this is it. Once we swing past Jupiter we're committed to the slingshot. Now's the time to call it off if you want to."

"No, let's go with it."

"Sure? I know my computations are accurate, but I can't vouch for the Scotsman's jury-rigging of the shuttlecraft. There's a good chance it'll just fall apart, and you'll be thrown out into hyperspace."

"What happens then?" she asked, grinning.

"No one knows. Nobody's ever come back to report on it."

"I'll chance it. I bet I can take anything your circuitry can."

"Okay. Strap in. In less than a minute we'll begin the warp sequence."

She attached her harness and unconsciously gripped the armrests. She felt the surge of power as Archie activated the warp drive, and suddenly the picture-perfect scene of planet, black sky, and crystal points of stars rainbowed into the dizzying blur of warp acceleration.

Archie counted off the speed. At Warp Six the shuttle began to shake a little. At Eight point three, the lights dimmed. After he announced, "Nine point four..." he added, "Twenty seconds to final abort point."

She startled. "You said we were committed back at Jupiter."

"I lied. But this is really the last chance. Change your mind?"

She took a deep breath and smiled. "No way! Let's go—oops! What's that?" The ship rolled as if struck broadside.

"Just a little quantum turbulence, nothing to worry about."

"Quantum turbulence? What the hell is tha—-"

"Hang on, Gillian!" Archie yelled above the increasing noise in the cabin, an unfamiliar glee in his voice.

She was beginning to feel some time and mass distortions, and she had to struggle to make her leaden jaw move. "Ar... chie.." she groaned, sounding like a scratched record playing too slowly, "...are...you...sc... ared?"

She blacked out before she heard if he answered.

"Well, Spock?" Kirk asked impatiently, the third time in less than two minutes.

With perfect calm, the Vulcan answered, "It still appears to be a simple inverse binary reverse-polarity sequen...there. The text is available now."

Kirk practically shoved Spock aside to see the screen. A moment later he screamed, "That idiot! Spock, she's trying to go back!"

Spock put on his best puzzled face and said, "To the Hawking?"

"No, dammit! To the past! To her own time!"

Spock dipped one brow. "Does she explain how she intends to do that?"

"No, but she asked me to apologize to Scotty."

"Then we may have a problem, Jim. The shuttlecraft that Mr. Scott has been refitting is capable of warp speeds sufficient to attempt a time displacement maneuver around the sun."

"What? Gillian could never program that!"

Kirk wondered if he saw Spock gulp before he replied, "No, but the navigational computer aboard the shuttle is capable of such a computation."

"That obnoxious, back-talking thing? It can't even remember my name!"

"Your name, Captain, is not required for the computation. Unfortunately, when Mr. Scott asked me to determine the actual computing capabilities of the device, I used our most recent slingshot in the Klingon ship as a test item. The computer is more than capable of executing such a program."

"Unfortunately," mumbled Kirk, then he grabbed for a switch on the comm. "Chief engineer Scott, please."

"I'm sorry, sir," came the communications officer's voice, "but Commander Scott has logged out for the evening. He mentioned a...celebration at the officer's lounge at Starfleet."

"That's right!" moaned Kirk, cutting the connection. "The semi-annual or whenever they get together chief engineer's bash. She couldn't have picked a better time to steal his shuttle!"

Spock was already working on the comm console. A moment later he was speaking to Spacedock Control. "Yes, sir, that shuttle did pass through our scans about two hours ago."

"And you let it?" screamed Kirk.

"The pilot provided appropriate clearance and log, sir."

"What was the log?" asked Spock.

"Let me see...passage through the system, returning on near-collision trajectory with Sol, for the purpose of high-gee stress research."

"That little..." muttered Kirk.

Spock asked, "Has the shuttle performed the maneuver?"

"I'll have to run a data check, sir. We don't keep small craft on the screens. It'll take a few minutes."

"Thank you, Ensign," said Spock, cutting the link. "Jim, I find it difficult to believe that Dr. Taylor could have accomplished this alone, even with Mr. Scott's...unorthodox computer."

"Scotty taught her to pilot the damned thing—probably taught her all the clearance codes, too!"

"Indeed," said Spock, rising. "It appears we must go to Admiral Morrow with this."

"What? He's the last person we need in on it!"

"What can we possibly do ourselves?" asked Spock.

"How should I know?" Kirk swung his arms in frustration.

"Do you know her motivation for returning?"

"Her note says she's taking that antiviral back to save all the whales in the past."

Spock paused before answering, "It is highly unlikely that she will need the antiviral to save the whales."

"What do you mean?" asked Kirk, surprised into halting his pacing of the room.

"I'll have to run some equations to be certain, but it is probable that if she is successful in reentering her own time period, there will be sufficient additional disruptions in the continuum to alter history to the point that the Oceanus virus will not play any significant role."

"Successful?" shouted Kirk, resuming his pacing. "In that piece of junk? She'll be vaporized."

Admiral Morrow's call came before Spacedock Control's. "Jim! There's been a hyperspace distortion near the sun, and Control traces it to a shuttle of Enterprise berthing. Do you know anything about it?"

Ignoring Morrow, Kirk said to Spock, "It's too late!"

"What's too late?" asked the irritated admiral.

Spock volunteered, "There is a high probability that Dr. Taylor has...borrowed a private shuttlecraft for the purpose of returning to her own time to administer an antiviral to the whales of that period."

"WHAT? What antiviral? What whales? Jim?"

"It's a long story, Harry."

The only response was the whine of a transporter, as Kirk's apartment dissolved around them and they found themselves reassembling at Starfleet Headquarters.

Diane Sterling turned to Spock, who was standing before the long table, at which twelve members of the Federation Council were seated. "Now, Mr. Spock, would you please explain to the councilors why you feel it unnecessary for us to retrieve Dr. Taylor in an effort to prevent further disruptions of the time continuum?"

"It is not only unnecessary, it is counterproductive to do so. Dr. Taylor has either entered some past time period, or she has perished."

"But what if she causes the probe to return?" called out one of the councilors.

"The probe has not returned," stated Spock. "Whatever changes would occur due to her tampering with the continuum were immediately apparent the moment she disappeared from this time-space. The probe did not return, so it will not."

"How can you be sure of that?" shouted another councilor.

Spock responded patronizingly, "Even if Dr. Taylor lived to be one hundred fifty, she has been dead for the same amount of time."

"If she made it back to her time!" offered the first councilor to speak.

"Correct," agreed Spock. "But in any case, if we attempt to intervene with her activities, we will only add to the disruption of the continuum."

"How do you know you won't offset whatever she's done? She's taken an advanced spacecraft into the past. What if the Klingons of three hundred years ago get hold of it?"

"Illogical," replied Spock. "The Klingons of that time were incapable of leaving their quadrant, let alone traveling to this system."

Kirk, who was observing the proceedings from the side of the hall, remarked to himself that they were welcome to that derelict shuttle, but his attention was drawn back by the chaos which broke loose as the Council erupted into shouts and countershouts. Spock tossed him a meaningful glance as the president pounded for order.

"I thought Spock told 'em it was stupid to go after her," said Jack as he ran his fingers through Nyota's hair.

She snuggled closer to him and answered, "He did. But since when do bureaucrats listen to logic?"

Jack laughed and nodded, bringing his chin down on the top of her head. "So how come you have to go?"

"The Enterprise has been assigned the mission."

"As if Jim Kirk would let someone else go."

Now she laughed. "Right."

"You still haven't answered my question, Nyota."

She swiveled to look up at him. "She's my ship, too, Mgeni."

He sat up, dropping her head into his lap. "The last time you went off with Jim in the Enterprise, you came back in a Bird of Prey via the Twentieth Century."

"Are you complaining? The last time I went off with Jim Kirk, I wasn't married to you."

He smiled ruefully. "Is that supposed to sway me? If you don't go, things don't have to change any more."

"Wrong," she said, reaching up to trace his chin.

"You mean you believe you're going to go in the past, rescue Gillian—"

"Kidnap Gillian," she corrected.

"Okay, bring her back, and do all this without changing things any more than you claim they already are changed?"

"No," she answered frowning. "Just going back will threaten the continuum. But I have to go."

"The old Nyota Uhura had to go!" he protested. "She only had the Enterprise and that crazy crew. But you have..."

"You?" she supplied.

"All right, yes! You have me. Or doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Jack," she said, shifting to sit up next to him. "I am the 'old Uhura,' but I also have you. Tell me something, did I, I mean did...oh, this is ridiculous! Did your wife stay home from missions usually?"

He smiled in defeat. "Never," he replied.

"Guess some things haven't changed then."

His smile faded. "But things are about to change. Maybe radically."

She nodded.

"What does Spock put the odds at your coming home to this time-space? Leave off the decimals."

"The decimals don't matter," she answered softly. "He doesn't think there's any possibility of that."

"And if I know Kirk and Company, they'll be working to assure that. After all, you all think this is the altered version."

She nodded again.

"How about you? How do you feel about it?"

She was silent for a while. "Maybe there isn't a Bantu proverb for every occasion."

He questioned with his eyes.

She explained, "The proverb says, 'Usiache mbachao kwa msala upitao.'" Don't abandon your old rug for a passing mat.

"So, which am I?" he asked breathlessly, "Old rug or fancy new mat?"

In response she kissed him passionately.

Kirk and most of the bridge crew looked at the Vulcan expectantly as he exited the turbolift.

"Well," asked McCoy, voicing everyone's thoughts..

"Admiral Morrow agreed to some of my recommendations," Spock stated with an all but imperceptible trace of pride. "He acknowledges the fact that having anyone on this mission from this time-space would only further the damages to the timeline. And, since Mr. Scott has previously...demonstrated that the Enterprise can be rigged to run with a minimal crew, namely us, he agreed that no other crewmembers were necessary.." He paused ominously. "But," Spock continued, "he said that he could not allow Sulu to accompany us."

Many complaining voices began shouting simultaneously. Kirk held up his hand. "We can't...we won't leave Hikaru here."

Spock surprised them by adding, "To do so would be illogical."

"Scotty, could you arrange for Sulu to be beamed aboard just before we leave orbit?"

Scotty shook his head sadly, "Aye, but for that he'd need a transponder."

Chekov bounced excitedly on his toes. "Already taken care of, Keptin!"

"What?" asked the captain, not instantly following. Then Kirk smiled, and forced a laugh, shaking his head. The other humans joined in, only slightly aware of Spock's raised brow.

"Damn it, Spock!" shouted Kirk, jumping up from his command chair again. "How long do we have to wait?"

Spock looked up from his station. "Departure is scheduled for 0750 tomorrow. Unless Mr. Scott says he is able to implement the warp buffers I designed, in which case we should delay forty-three more hours."

"By then she'll—" He stopped himself. Whatever she's done, it's been done for centuries. It didn't matter when they left.

McCoy scowled. "Personally, I think this whole mission is so damned stupid we might as well take hard copies of our entire library and give 'em out to everyone we meet. Probably wouldn't do any more harm."

Kirk put up his fist to cover his grin.

Spock said, "Intraship sensors indicate Mr. Scott has finished installing the cloaking device."

"What cloaking device?" demanded McCoy.

"The cloaking device he designed, based on the one we fished out of San Francisco Bay," answered Kirk, seeing that Spock merely ignored the question and continued with his work.

"What do we need that for?"

"So that they don't think we're little green men and shoot us out of the sky," came Spock's patronizing voice.

McCoy's eyes widened and he turned to stare at the Vulcan bent over his viewer. Kirk quickly asked, "Bones, how is Scotty doing?"

McCoy sighed. "He alternates between screaming at the departed Gillian for stealing his precious bairn and cursing himself for teaching her how to do it! I tried to tell him that it was at least partly my fault. Gillian came to me and asked about the antiviral's longevity. I had to go and brag that it would last for centuries in the open sea."

"Relax, Bones. If anyone should have seen what was coming, it's me. When she talked about the past and worrying about all the whales that became extinct, I should have seen what she was thinking. Of course, none of us could have imagined she'd be able to single-handedly execute a slingshot into the past."

"How the hell did she manage that?" asked McCoy.

Spock straightened. "She used Mr. Scott's navigational programs, which I instructed in the maneuver." He challenged the doctor with an upturned brow.

"I should have guessed! Leave it to one computer to teach another such mischief!"

Kirk was spared any peace-making he might have been forced to oversee by the turbolift's doors whooshing open. Uhura walked in, followed by Jack, who showed much more ease at being on the bridge than Kirk could muster at his being there. Clearly some other Kirk had often hosted this man on the Enterprise. Greetings were exchanged, and after a careful look around, Jack said to the captain, "I liked your old chair better, Jim."

"Uh...yes. Good to see you back on your feet."

Uhura explained, "Jack wanted to see the new ship. I told him it wasn't all that different, and anyway, it's the captain and the crew that makes the Enterprise what it is."

"Don't let Scotty hear you say that," laughed Kirk. "He thinks it's his beloved matter-antimatter chamber that usually saves our skins."

"Don't let him fool you, Jim," said Jack, making eye contact. "Scotty would step into that chamber for you."

Kirk blushed at the intense depth of this stranger who knew them all so well.

"So, I guess this is it. Good luck, Jim." Jack turned to face Spock, raised his hand, the fingers cloven, and said, in flawless Vulcan, "Live long and prosper." The Vulcan returned the salute. Jack smiled at McCoy, "Take care, Len." McCoy shifted uncomfortably. Sapir stepped over to Chekov and spoke softly, "I guess this isn't exactly a social call, either, Pavel. Good luck."

Chekov smiled warmly. "Thank you, Jack. From both of us."

The confused look on everyone's faces were Jack's focus as he stepped back into the turbolift, Uhura at his side.

"Come in, Dr. Sterling. Please, have a seat."

"Thanks, Admiral. I appreciate you seeing me without an appointment."

"No problem. What can I do for you?"

"Call off this ridiculous mission to the past."

Morrow frowned. "I'm afraid I can't do that, as you well know. The Federation Council ordered it."

"At Starfleet's backing!"

"The consensus was that—"

"Bullshit, Admiral! The only sense in this whole matter is in Mr. Spock's statements, which were totally ignored by the whole passel of Fleet ignoramuses who want to charge off on ill-designed and undoubtedly ill-fated interventions in the time continuum."

The admiral's frown turned into a scowl. "Doctor, it is possible, despite what you feel, that Mr. Spock is wrong."

"And that idiot Kensington is right? Come on, Admiral! Even you can't believe that!"

"I admit that Dr. Kensington's ideas were a bit eccentric, but—"

"Eccentric! You call it eccentric to posit that there is no time continuum, and that Kirk's original mission to the past merely shoved us onto another level of existence? Do you honestly think that by going back again with his 'time-space enveloper' plugged into the Enterprise's engines we can 'fold space back' onto its proper level?"

"I don't believe I am qualified to make a judgment in these matters," said Morrow tersely.

"Bah! My three-year-old grandson is qualified to judge that crap! Look, you have the power to stop this insanity. Will you do it?"

He looked down at his desk. "I'm sorry."

"You may be," she said getting up from her chair. "But then," she added thoughtfully, the bluster gone, "when the disruption occurs we'll never know it. We simply...won't be...won't ever have been. Good day, Admiral."

"What's that?" laughed Jack, pointing to a metallic box sprouting several wires and cables, which was enshrined under a glass dome on a walnut pedestal on the Observation Deck.

"That's the Kensington device. The captain told Scotty to put it up here to remind us all..." Her grin faded, and she finished almost in a whisper, "to remind us all how crazy this mission is."

"And," he added, lifting her chin up, "how unlikely it is that you'll ever be back."

"Oh," she protested, shaking her head. "Spock is sure we'll make it back."

"But back where?" he asked poignantly. "And to whom?" She didn't answer, but held him close. He said softly into her hair, "Then I guess this is good-bye."

Again she didn't answer.

"Chances are," he said, his voice almost failing, "that even if I exist in the world to which you return, I might not know you. I might not even have my lucky apartment. It would all be over."

She pulled back and looked up at him, her sudden grin changing the course of the tears on her face. "Not necessarily."

"Huh?"

"Well," she said, running a finger down his chest, "even if you don't remember me...I know where to find you."

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