Chapter 4 – Variations on a Theme

As Dana and Marty left the meeting, they both scowled. Geordi and Mike caught up with them. "Who'd've thought we were related!" Geordi opened with. He then paused and peered at them both. "Something wrong?"

"Heh, well, it's Cousin Tamsin," Dana explained, "She's, uh, well, you explain," she said a little pointedly to Marty, walking away quickly.

"What's going on?" Mike asked.

"I'd really rather not give the specifics," Marty told them, "except that Tamsin is, well, she's got it in her head that one quick date meant something. It didn't. Now I'm gonna have to deal with her." He glanced at them. "I'd better go."

As he departed, Mike turned to Geordi. "There's something between them, I'll bet."

"Tamsin Porter and Commander Madden?"

"No, Lieutenant Commander MacKenzie and Commander Madden."

Dana got to her quarters quickly. She was supposed to be going to her shift. But Mike was right; there really had been something.

They had known each other all of their lives, and had always been on the same wavelength, even though Marty was about seven years older than her. With the same initials, they often referred to each other as the MDM Twins. The family swore they had a secret language as well.

When Dana had turned eighteen, and Marty was almost twenty-five, they had kissed in private at a family gathering. Holding hands, they went to see her parents, declaring that they would marry. But their hopes were dashed when they were informed of a Federation law prohibiting marriages between two persons with at least one great-grandparent in common, like the two of them had.

Devastated, they had pursued separate studies and careers, mainly staying apart, as it was far too painful to be close by. Dana had been assigned to the Enterprise-E when the First Officer, William Riker, had been given his own command. Marty, being the best-qualified person for the job, had been transferred from the Talos.

Madden's ascension to the rank of First Officer on the USS Enterprise was a major achievement. It brought nearly as much prestige as having his own command would have.

There had been press articles and a great deal of attention was drawn to the fact that he, in his late fifties, remained an eligible bachelor. The attention annoyed him. In order to squelch the rumors, before he'd officially reported to the Enterprise, he had randomly selected a single woman on the Talos for a date. That woman had turned out to be the far younger Tamsin Porter.

He did not care for her one whit; the date was merely the means to an end. While he was not interested in hurting her, he was also hardly interested in spending more than minimal time with her. They had gone out for sushi on the Kreetassan home world. She had made a rather forward pass at him, and he'd effectively deflected it. The last thing he had wanted was for the press to circulate pictures of her grabbing his thigh and then lunging for more. The date was to show that he was dating and didn't have a heart made of stone. It was not to show him as a slobbering, leering, sex-addled fool.

Disappointed and angry, Tamsin had officially complained of harassment to the captain of the Talos. Fortunately, he and Picard had gotten to the bottom of things quickly. Marty's promotion and transfer went ahead, the record was expunged, and Tamsin received a stern warning in her file, about the damage to her career that would ensue if she filed any more false charges, against Martin Madden or anyone else. For a year or so, she'd kept quiet.

When Marty had arrived on the Enterprise, his reputation preceded him, despite the clearing of his record. Still, Picard had welcomed the man warmly, and had refused to believe any rumors. But the rumors persisted, and Marty was mainly a lone wolf on board.

As for Dana, the sudden addition of her unattainable love as a new colleague was a cause for some soul-searching. Both she and Marty did their best to be able to coexist without falling apart. They spent a great deal of time together, but she had done her best to cocoon her heart. She had even gotten herself a boyfriend, the head of the MACO unit on Andoria, a divorced fellow named Emmet Kent Hoberman.

In her quarters, her desktop unit was flashing, signifying a message. She could have left it or read it on her PADD. Instead, something possessed her to not delay, and she read it on her desktop unit. It was from Kent.

Dana,

We need to talk tonight. Something's come up.

– Kent

"I wonder what that's all about," she muttered to herself, before sending a quick acknowledging reply. She returned to the Bridge.

=/\=

In Engineering, Geordi and B-4 met with Rick. "Anything happen while we were out?" Geordi asked.

"Oh, we were all assimilated by the Borg," Rick joked, "but they threw us all back, something about the crew of the Enterprise-E being out of season."

The android was a little puzzled. "The presence of the Borg should have registered on scanners. I will perform a full diagnostic."

"Uh, no, B-4," Geordi chuckled a little, "that won't be necessary. It's just a little joke."

"Oh," B-4 responded, "I am in error, then." He retrieved a device with a wand. "Might I ask you for a moment, for a quick scan?" he asked Rick.

"Uh, sure," Rick replied, eying the device a bit, "what does that thing do?"

"Just a quick check," Geordi replied, "it's a new medical scanner we're working on. We're testing it out for Doctor Crusher."

"Ah, I see," said Rick, but he knew that what Geordi had said was an utter fabrication. The device had no medical applications whatsoever. Rather, instead, it was a radiation band tester. He held out an arm. "This good?"

Geordi answered, "Sure, just a second." He nodded at B-4, and the android began the rapid scan. Geordi glanced over at the readout on the monitor. It said 20.4275300 centimeters, a figure that was lower than any of the others they had read. "Huh, I wonder if this thing is working properly."

B-4 also looked. "The figure is rather striking. This time, I really will perform a full diagnostic."

"Should I report to Sick Bay?" Rick asked, pretending to be alarmed. He was the only one of the three of them who knew that the device was working perfectly. It was in a museum in his time period, and he had even used it prior to going on this particular temporal mission.

"Uh, maybe hold off for now," Geordi tried to assure him, "it's probably just our equipment." He ran the wand over himself, and the finding was the same as it had been the last time he'd scanned himself with it – 20.9999946 centimeters. "That's funny."

"Really, should I go to Sick Bay?"

"Uh, just a second," Geordi requested. He tapped out a fast note on his PADD, to the captain.

Sir,

We just scanned Richard Daniels with the radiation band tester, and you're not going to believe this.

=/\=

On the Bridge, Dana glanced over from the Tactical station as Marty, Picard, and M'Belle sat up front. There was a communications chime. Picard checked his PADD and looked at it in some surprise. "How very curious. Mister Madden, you and I need to head to Engineering right away. MacKenzie, you have command."

"Aye, sir."

"What's the trouble?" asked M'Belle, the Caitian counselor rolling her R a little.

"A bit of additional business," Picard replied cryptically.

Marty nodded at Dana slightly. It was an unspoken message – I'll tell you later, if I can.

Dana settled into the captain's chair. "Continue to the Lafa System, Mister Crusher," she commanded, as Marty and Picard left.

"Aye."

=/\=

In Engineering, Picard looked over the findings. "Mister Daniels," he finally said, "I need for you to accompany Mister Madden and me, to the Observation Lounge."

Rick glanced back at Geordi. "You need me?"

"Nope; go ahead."

"Okay." He turned to follow Picard and Madden to the Observation Lounge.

Picard thought for a moment. "Lieutenant Commander LaForge, B-4, on second thought, you should accompany us." Rick raised an eyebrow slightly as the captain engaged the communicator pinned to his uniform top. "MacKenzie?"

"Aye, sir."

"I need for you to give command to Counselor M'Belle and bring Lieutenant Commander Daniels with you. Meet us in the Observation Lounge."

"Right away, sir. MacKenzie out."

The five of them made their way to the Observation Lounge. Dana and Mike were already there when they arrived. After the others had filed in, Picard made certain to lock the door. "This meeting is hereby declared to be highly confidential."

"Understood," Marty spoke for all of them, and sat down next to Dana.

"As most of you know, there are thirteen persons with a radiation band of less than 21 centimeters. Four are in this room." They all nodded, so he continued. "The number of elapsed generations since the transuniversal crossover by Douglas Jay Hayes Beckett makes it so that all disparate radiation bands are greater than 20.9. Except for one."

"Oh?" asked Dana.

"There is a fourteenth person," Picard announced. "That person represents a fifth such instance on the Enterprise. That person is you, Crewman Daniels." Rick Daniels sat there stoically and said nothing. "You are clearly not appreciably older than anyone in this room. In fact, aside from B-4, I suspect you're the youngest person in this room. Therefore, if the generations are not hopelessly skewed, and your band is less than every other unknown disparate radiation band, how, may I ask, do you do it?"

"Do what, sir?" Rick asked.

"Account for the obvious mathematical impossibility in your radiation band," the captain clarified.

They all turned and looked at Rick. "This variation is new," he muttered.

"Variation?" asked Geordi, who was sitting closest to him.

"The Prime Directive," Rick began, "prevents more technologically advanced species from interfering with normal planetary and species development. I know everyone here can appreciate what that means when you're confronted with a pre-industrial civilization."

"Well, sure," Mike commented.

"You're pretty much always on the more advanced end of things," Rick stated, "but in this case, it's the opposite."

"Are you human?" Marty asked.

"More or less. But I want everyone here to appreciate that there are a lot of things I'm not supposed to talk about. The problem is," he sighed, "whenever I follow all the protocols and do that, it doesn't work. When I throw caution to the wind, it doesn't work, either. Frankly, I'm not so sure what to do anymore."

"I'm lost," Dana admitted, "so cut to the chase, okay?"

"Assertive in any iteration," Rick commented.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Perhaps you should start at the very beginning," Picard suggested.

"Right, that," Rick said. He steeled himself for what he was about to tell them. "In my time period, the Prime Directive isn't just confined to currently primitive species and planets. It's also temporal, and it applies to more primitive time periods as well."

"So you're a time traveler," Marty concluded. He looked at Rick. "The captain here said he thought you were the youngest person in the room. Just how right is he?"

"Using the old style calendar, I was born on February third of 3069."

"A little over seven hundred years from now, and just past your birthday, eh?" Dana commented. The true date was on her PADD – February 12th of 2380. "I'm guessing we look like cave people to you; assuming anything you're telling us is at all true."

"Not cave people," Rick smiled, "you do extremely well."

"If you're not supposed to interfere," Geordi asked, "then why are you here at all? Isn't this interference?"

"Hell," Mike concluded, "wouldn't a trip in time change things by definition? You've probably knocked everything out of kilter just by getting here."

"Not exactly," Rick replied. "See, there are three kinds of changes. It's not possible for us mere mortals to effectuate the really big ones. And the smallest ones don't matter. It's only the in between stuff that's at issue."

"When does small turn into in between?" Dana inquired.

"Otra," the unfamiliar name rhymed with Sinatra, "she says, uh, no one is really sure. In some ways, you'll just know it when and if you see it."

"Well, that's pretty useless," Dana commented.

"You're a lot more skeptical in this variation," Rick said.

"That's the second time you've mentioned a variation," Picard pointed out. "Care to explain what you mean by that?"

"This is not the first time I've been here," Rick admitted. "Look, I've said too much already. You've got problems and I suspect I need your help in solving them."

"What sorts of problems?" Picard asked.

"The timeline's all messed up," Rick said.

"Why should any of us believe you?" Marty asked. "For all we know, you're the one causing the issues."

"The radiation band cycling, yes, I know all about that," Rick said, "I also know it's confidential, and I know why you're all here. You're all family, except for the captain."

"We still don't know if you're the one who's causing it, or if you're anything that you claim to be," Mike pointed out. "We've dealt with shape shifters before."

"And with Q," Picard added.

"Oh, man, I'm neither," Rick said. "I'm just a guy trying to fix stuff."

"Maybe not just a guy," Dana mused. "Look, you said there were changes. So, what were they? And keep in mind there's every possibility that nobody here will believe you."

"Too true," Rick agreed. "I am also well aware that you have nothing to gauge my statements with."

"There are no before and after pictures or anything like that," Geordi said.

"Precisely," the captain concurred. "Tell us, Crewman, how you are able to determine whether an alteration has been made? Wouldn't any such differences, by definition, be utterly undetectable?"

"We have a file," Rick explained. "The Master Time File includes all major historical events and a lot of smaller ones as well."

"How could you possibly have a record of everything?" Marty asked.

"It's not everything; it can't be," Rick clarified. "We do our best to keep the most important data in it. But I'll be the first to admit that it's imperfect."

"So you know the Titan Bluebirds' record for this year, but not the scores of the games?" asked Dana.

"It's a bit more granular than that. We don't know pitch counts, we don't know how many times a batter fouled."

"So it's box score level, but not scorecard level?" she asked.

"Something like that." Rick looked at them all. "For most of you in this room, there are no changes at all. Captain, who has command of the Enterprise right now?"

"Counselor M'Belle," Picard replied.

"Ah yes, that variation," Rick mused. "She isn't supposed to be here. Neither is the case with maybe half of your night shift enlisted Bridge crew."

"Who's the counselor, if M'Belle or Shaw aren't?" Marty asked.

"Nobody is," Rick said. "The job's still supposed to be open. Guinan in Ten Forward and Doctor Crusher fill in as well as they can." He turned to Mike. "What's your job on the Enterprise?"

"I'm the night shift Tactical Officer."

Rick shook his head. "You're supposed to be the day shift Tactical Officer. Who's the day shift pilot?"

"Wes Crusher," Geordi said.

"Not him, no."

"What's supposed to happen to Wes?" asked Dana.

"Wesley Crusher is another person who isn't supposed to be here. But he and M'Belle, and pretty much all of your incorrectly placed people? They're all supposed to be on the same ship."

"Which ship would that be?" Marty asked.

"The Cookie."

Dana started laughing. "What kind of a joker would name their ship the Cookie?"

Rick looked straight at her and answered, "You would."