On the Enterprise-E, in the prime universe, Ensign Tamsin J. Porter put away her things and then pulled up the ship's schematics on her desktop unit. "I know where you live," she muttered deviously as she looked at the screen. "You can't hide forever, Martin Madden."
There was a communications chime. "A morning meeting? Be right there."
The meeting consisted of Captain Picard, Commander Madden, Lieutenant Commanders MacKenzie, LaForge and Michael Daniels, and Crewman Richard Daniels, along with Tamsin, who arrived last. She ended up reluctantly taking a seat next to Rick. "As before," Captain Picard explained, "this meeting is strictly confidential. Crewman Daniels?"
"Yes," Rick replied. "I'm starting to piece together what's happened. See, there are temporal factions. They're fighting a kind of cold war. The idea is to shift time so that one species or another gains an advantage."
"Who would gain an advantage from this?" asked Tamsin. Picard glared at her. "Uh, sorry, sir."
"Things are done differently here on the Enterprise-E," Picard explained. "Crewman, can you outline the differences?"
"Sure. Commander Madden, and Lieutenant Commanders LaForge and Daniels don't seem to have undergone any changes at all, or at least the changes are rather minor ones. Ensign Porter's permanent transfer from the Talos is a change; in the original timeline, she stays there, and there is no transfer."
"So this is an improvement," Tamsin purred, eying Marty. Picard glared at her again. "I'm, sir, I'm used to a more relaxed command style."
"That's a smaller change," Rick clarified. "While the prime timeline's Enterprise-E is well-run, there are a few more relaxed moments than there are here."
"I see," said Picard. "Go on, Crewman." He threw another glance at Tamsin, who stayed quiet.
"The biggest change is in Dana, and the people around her."
"How so?" asked Marty.
Rick looked at Dana. "You didn't go into Starfleet Tactical at all – only peripherally, and it was never any sort of formalized training. You didn't go to the Academy."
"Then what did I do?"
"You played baseball professionally. You were the second baseman, and sometimes the shortstop, for the Titan Bluebirds."
"Cellar dwellers?" Dana chuckled a little.
"It wasn't for long."
"Oh, was I injured?"
"No, you were arrested."
"What?" Dana's face betrayed her shock.
"You were framed for a drug deal. And you were in Canamar Prison for nineteen years as the appeals dragged on," Rick explained.
"But I got out at least, right?"
"You did, and you put together a kind of ragtag barnstorming team. You bought a Gorn ship."
"Gorn?" asked Picard.
"It was filled with a lot of interesting tech and unfinished inventions. The tech was interesting to a few outside parties as well."
"Was it our enemies?" asked Mike Daniels.
"It was, but it was also, well, it had to do with investigations that we know Commander Madden and Lieutenant Commander LaForge are doing in this iteration, as well as in the prime timeline."
"Ah," Geordi commented. "Would you happen to know the details behind that?"
"I would," Rick said. "But I am prevented from giving you details about it. Suffice it to say, though, there's a relationship there."
"But how did we – I – get here?" Dana asked.
"An operative – I don't know which faction they were from yet – that operative fired a modified pulse cannon. It was what we call a pulse shot. But this one was an imperfect one and so it altered time by ripping the fabric of space-time. See," Rick explained, "it's actually supposed to do that, but the damage was not controlled and it was done to time rather than to space. The aftereffects displaced Dana and her entire team. Many of them ended up here, on the Enterprise-E."
"Athletes on my ship?" asked Picard.
"They're not professional athletes in this version of the timeline. It's people like Yi'imspi and night shfit Counselor Darren Shaw. Wesley Crusher, too. The highest-ranking such person is day shift Counselor M'Belle."
"Wait, wait, time out," Dana said, putting her hands in the shape of a capital T.
"I can see your underlying prime timeline personality," Rick commented.
"I guess so. But seriously," Dana pointed out, "you said this, this pulse shot was fired from my ship. Was there an intruder on board, or a visitor?"
"I don't think so."
"So it was an athlete. You've got the names, right?" she asked.
"I do. But there are some, like Crita, who aren't on the Enterprise-E at all."
"Crita? That sounds like a Daranaean name," Mike commented.
"That's very astute of you," Rick praised. "She's a third caster."
"Assuming that we can perform such an investigation," Picard asked, "is it not possible that a guilty party in your so-called prime timeline would be innocent in ours? And vice versa?"
"It's not impossible," Rick allowed.
"So how are you gonna know?" Tamsin asked. Before Picard could say anything, she added, "That's a legit question, right? Am I right?"
"It is," Rick assured her. "But we've got other issues. See, we think you might have a counterpart – you all read the book, right?" There were general murmurs of agreement, so he continued, "As Doug Hayes's descendants, by definition, it's not supposed to be possible for you to have counterparts. He didn't father any kids before he crossed over. But there's now a Tamsin Jennifer Porter on the other side. Either she's a counterpart, and that would mean that the rip goes a lot earlier than we had originally thought, or," Rick's voice trailed off.
"Or?" prompted Geordi.
"Or she's close – maybe collaterally related but not a perfect counterpart. See, you have enough close cousin and sibling births, and enough of the right people from other families add their genes to the line, then you can get someone who effectively mimics a counterpart, but technically isn't one."
"Did Douglas Hayes have a brother?" asked Picard.
"Not in the original history. And Jay, his counterpart here, he had a sister, Laura. But Jay and Laura both died childless. And neither of them took a trip to the other side."
"Maybe it's at the uncle level," Mike suggested.
"My partner is going to try to get DNA – a hair, probably – and will see about performing a test. In the meantime, at the very least, we can make some inquiries. Anyone could be the operative, and they might have been really changed by the rip in time. After all, it's not just Dana and M'Belle who were changed – so were Shaw and Yi'imspi in particular, even more than the others. This is the best we can do, for now."
"For my possible counterpart," Tamsin asked, "What is she doing?"
"She's working to help the deposed Terran Emperor, Charles VI, regain the throne."
"Does she succeed?"
"I can't tell you."
=/\=
In the morning, in a small and messy hut, Charles Tucker the Eleventh, also known as the deposed Terran Emperor Charles VI, looked at his reflection in a small, broken-off piece of a mirror and shaved around and shaped his goatee with a dagger.
Without so much as a knock, the door to the hut flew open, and he cut himself, making a gash on his left cheek. It was Jenn. "Don't you knock?"
"Don't you expect me? Here." She put the smaller bag on the hut's most ostentatious piece of furniture – a rough-hewn wooden table at which there was a pair of chairs with broken backs.
"That's not enough." He dabbed at the cut with a dirty cloth.
"I still need to get you an ID card. I've got a line on a woman who claims to be able to make them."
"Get me an A ration card," he commanded, opening the bag and taking out a small can of elekai meat, which he tossed onto the table. "I want fresh meat every day."
"Do you wanna be caught? 'Sides, anyone with an A or a B ration card wouldn't be taking charity."
"Sheesh, what's a C ration card? Isn't that meat twice a week?"
"Once," she explained, "it's only twice if a hunt's come in recently. That's your own law, y'know. I've only got a D myself."
"Ah, no meat except as charity, right. That's a law I should be changing. I'll rescind it, and restore the old system – A for meat every day, B for three times a week, C for twice, D for once, and E for never without hunting or charity. Or I'll retool it somehow."
"You're hardly in a position to do that," she huffed.
"I will be soon enough."
"What are you working on, where you'll be restored to power?" Despite his filthy appearance, she grabbed at him.
"As much fun as this might be," he said, removing her hand, "you're not on a need to know basis when it comes to that."
"Hey, I'm keeping you alive and undiscovered here."
"And you've been paid for that," he reminded her. "If you're expecting an engraved thank-you note, well, you must remember that expressed gratitude is a sign of weakness – and a recorded expression? Forget about it. Don't go around expecting things like that."
Jenn came closer again, wrinkling her nose a little at his body odor. "I am expecting a certain spot in your court, when you're restored to power."
"Is that so? Well, I'll consider it."
"You need an heir. I can give you one."
"Yes, but you must understand. I may need to take a consort from the native people of this planet if my restoration doesn't go smoothly."
"But they know you'll need an heir. And any Calafan consort can't do that."
"Science bored my forebear, the Great Hoshi. And I'm not much of a fan of it, either. But I bet someone can invent something or other. In the meantime, it's better for me – for both of us – to concentrate on the restoration."
"I'll get you a C ration card; don't you worry."
"Good." He picked up the can of elekai meat again. "This isn't exactly the gourmet fare I'm used to."
"I'll be back soon," she promised, and then left.
Alone, he muttered, "If my first choice fails, then sure, why the hell not? But if I can get a genetic connection to this system, then the Calafans will come into the fold as full members of the Terran Empire. A pity we couldn't make contact last night. But tonight, ah, yes, you and I will make contact, Yi'imspi. And maybe not just of the communications kind."
He grinned as he opened the can with the dagger.