Author's Note: I have slowly been going through, rewriting, adding new scenes and merging chapters. That is why there is now 37 chapters instead of the original 63. I am currently up to Chapter 34: Voyage Home Part 5.


Chapter 63: Yesterday's Enterprise

2366

Ten Forward

Dawn's presence in Ten-Forward carried a hint of contemplation, her thoughts drifting in unison with the stars that adorned the cosmos beyond the window. Guinan approached her with a glass in hand, an old friend offering solace and familiarity in the midst of uncertainties. "Here," Guinan said softly, sliding the glass across the table to Dawn.

Curiosity flickered in Dawn's eyes as she regarded the contents, her emotions mingling with a touch of amusement. "What is it?" she inquired, a hint of suspicion tainting her voice.

Guinan's encouraging smile reassured Dawn, a gentle reminder of their deep connection. "Go ahead and take a sip; I think you'll recognize the taste," she suggested, her gaze unwavering.

Dawn's laughter resonated in the room as she obliged, taking a tentative sip of the beverage. "Prune juice," she remarked after the familiar flavor met her lips, a warm sense of nostalgia enveloping her.

With her keen perception, Guinan observed the young couple at a nearby table, her thoughts drifting back to Dawn and Buffy's infrequent visits. "I've been wondering why you and Buffy don't come here more often," she mused, a touch of curiosity in her voice.

Dawn's response carried a hint of resignation, the realities of life aboard the Enterprise taking precedence. "Mostly, it's just conflicting schedules," she revealed, her voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "When Beverly returned to the Enterprise, I decided to take a demotion to Assistant Chief Medical Officer, and let her have her old post back. As a result, my shift hours changed to later in the day."

Guinan's gentle reminder brought back a conversation they had shared long ago, an unspoken understanding passing between them. "And what about your desire, Dawn?" she asked, her voice soft but filled with knowing.

Comprehension dawned upon Dawn, her eyes reflecting a mix of longing and uncertainty. "Buffy or I would need somebody who'd be willing to help us," she admitted, the weight of the decision evident in her words. "We considered asking Will or Geordi, but…"

Guinan offered a thoughtful perspective, her wisdom guiding Dawn towards self-discovery and growth. "You never know what you're capable of until you try," she remarked, her words carrying the reassurance of an old friend who had witnessed the growth of many souls throughout the years.

In that moment, the atmosphere shifted as the Enterprise dropped out of warp, revealing a breathtaking sight beyond the window. A giant jagged tear in space beckoned their attention, a maelstrom of ever-changing colors and shapes.

Bridge

Buffy's presence on the bridge was imbued with a heightened sensitivity, her Slayer instincts attuned not only to the physical surroundings but also to the emotional currents surrounding her. As she surveyed the viewscreen, the shared awe and trepidation of the bridge crew resonated within her.

The sight before them stirred memories of a past life, a moment when Buffy had bravely stepped into a similar portal to save her beloved sister, Dawn, centuries ago. Now, witnessing this new rift, stars and nebulae seemed to blend seamlessly into its swirling maelstrom of colors, offering a mesmerizing yet unsettling display.

"Analysis, Mister Data," Picard requested, his tone steady but tinged with curiosity and concern.

Data's response was measured, yet his words conveyed an air of bewilderment. "Sensors are reading gravimetric fluctuations... particularly unusual ones," he reported, his eyes locked on his console as he processed the data.

Curiosity piqued, Buffy turned from her console to face Data, her question carrying a touch of playful humor despite the gravity of the situation. "Unusual how?" she inquired, a hint of familiarity in her tone. "You do remember what's in my Starfleet files, right?"

Data's brief pause and contemplative gaze spoke volumes, and his eventual admission left room for an element of uncertainty. "Nothing I have seen before," he responded, his voice sincere and earnest.

The weight of the moment seemed to settle upon the bridge as Picard grappled with the possibilities. "Is it a wormhole?" he asked.

"Yes…and no," Data answered. His response hung in the air, a mix of curiosity and trepidation danced across the bridge. "Like a time displacement, but there is no discernible event horizon."

Buffy's emotions swirled within her, her instincts as a Slayer ever alert to the potential dangers that lay ahead. She found herself drawn to the console; her gaze fixed on the readings that defied explanation. "Navigational subsystems are unable to give coordinates on whatever it is," she reported, her voice tinged with a mix of intrigue and concern.

Data's nod of confirmation added weight to the realization, further deepening the intrigue. "Confirmed. The phenomenon does not have a definable center or outer edge," he stated, his voice steady but containing an undertone of fascination.

Riker's lean forward in his chair mirrored the crew's collective sense of anticipation. "Are you saying it is... and yet it isn't there?" he inquired, his tone holding a mix of incredulity and amazement.

Buffy's response came with a hint of perspective, drawing from her experience with the supernatural. "Given the supernatural, it very well could be exactly that," she replied, her words resonating with a blend of wonder and understanding.

Worf's sharp senses detected a change in the tactical display. His voice was resolute as he reported, "Something's happening, Captain. A new change in sensor readings."

Ten Forward

Dawn and Guinan stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the enigmatic fissure outside the window. A sense of unease washed over them, their emotions mirroring the apprehension they felt in the face of the unknown.

"Do you feel that, Dawn?" Guinan inquired, her voice tinged with concern.

Dawn's response held a touch of insight thanks to her empathic powers. "Well, I can feel confusion, dread, and possibly fear in your emotions, Guinan," she began, her brow furrowing with concentration. "However, what I personally feel is more profound. I can sense the Key moving as though..."

Guinan's interruption was accompanied by genuine alarm, a shared realization of the gravity of the situation. "Something similar was happening out there," she added, her voice hushed with disbelief. The gravity of the moment weighed heavily upon them, as if the very fabric of time itself was in flux.

The colors within the fissure swirled and shifted, adding to the sense of urgency and tension in the room. As a spacecraft emerged from the rift, Dawn's expression turned to one of distress. She recognized the ship, and her mind raced to make sense of the unfolding events.

"Oh no," Dawn whispered, her voice laden with concern. She turned towards Guinan, a plea in her eyes. "Because you can perceive changes in time, you'll have to assist Jean-Luc."

Guinan's confusion was evident as she tried to grasp the urgency of the situation. "Why not..." she began, only to be interrupted by a startling discovery. As she looked at Dawn, she noticed that the young woman was flickering, as though her very existence was becoming ephemeral.

Dawn explained, her words laced with a poignant sadness, "Because when that ship fully emerges, I won't be on the Enterprise anymore." She motioned towards the ship with a trembling hand. "Both Buffy and I will be there. We both served aboard the Enterprise-C under Captain Garrett many years ago. The Enterprise-C was transferred to a future where the Federation and the Klingons were at war during the Battle of Narendra Three."

The weight of the impending change bore down upon them, and the gravity of time rewriting itself was palpable. "Time will be rewritten when that Enterprise escapes the rift," Dawn concluded, her voice steady but tinged with sorrow. "Once Buffy and I are gone, you will be the only person on this ship who is aware that anything has occurred."

As Dawn flickered out of existence, Guinan was left in a state of bewilderment. A moment of disorientation enveloped Guinan, aware that she had been speaking to someone, yet struggling to recall who.

In that fleeting moment, Guinan stood alone by the window, her heart heavy with the knowledge that time's delicate balance had shifted, and the lives of her the crew had been irrevocably altered. The emotional turmoil within her mirrored the profound changes unfolding beyond the Enterprise's hull, where the tapestry of time and fate had woven a new path.

Bridge

Buffy sat; her gaze fixated on the viewscreen. "Capt..." she began but was unable to finish as she, like Dawn, flickered out of existence and Wesley Crusher appeared in her place. That wasn't the only difference; as Dawn had predicted, time had been rewritten. Troi had also vanished, and Worf had been replaced by Natasha Yar. The bridge had also been modified to appear considerably more militaristic, much like the Starfleet uniforms everyone now wore.

Picard's gaze remained fixed on the viewscreen; his own emotions masked behind a façade of calm composure. He turned to face Tasha, seeking answers amidst the disarray. "Can you identify that ship, Lieutenant? Is it an enemy ship?" he inquired, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Tasha responded with a hint of uncertainty, "I'm getting too much interference, Captain." Her hands trembled slightly as she worked at her console. "The interference is clearing, Captain," she added after a moment, her voice steadier. "Definitely a Federation starship... gaining access to the registry..."

"Looks like they had a rough ride," Riker observed as he noticed the other ship was severely damaged.

The revelation of the ship's identity brought astonishment to Tasha's expression. "N... C... C... One... Seven... Oh... One... Dash... C. U... S... S... Enterprise," she stammered, her words conveying both awe and disbelief.

Data's analysis further confirmed the astounding truth. "Sensors confirm design and specifications, Captain," he declared with his usual measured tone. "Analysis of hull and engine materials conforms to engineering patterns and methods from that time period."

Wesley's disbelief was palpable, his voice laden with incredulity as he uttered, "But that cruiser was destroyed with all hands about twenty years ago."

Data's precise correction provided a glimmer of hope, "Presumed destroyed. The Enterprise-C was last seen near the Klingon outpost of Narendra Three exactly twenty-two years, four months, and three days ago."

As the implications of the situation began to sink in, Riker's words echoed the collective realization, "And now it's here."

Picard's mind churned with possibilities, struggling to make sense of the improbable scenario before him. "Is it possible, Mr. Data, that it has... traveled through time?" he pondered, his voice tinged with perplexity and curiosity.

Data's words echoed with a mix of possibility and concern. "It is a possibility, Captain," he responded. "If that's the case, then the phenomenon we just witnessed was a temporal rift in space."

Picard's curiosity was piqued, but there was an underlying sense of trepidation in his inquiry. "A rift?" he probed, eager to understand the nature of the enigmatic event.

Data's explanation continued; his voice steady but tinged with a hint of urgency. "Perhaps the formation of a Kerr loop from superstring material… such a structure would require high-energy interactions to occur in the vicinity," he explained. "The rift is far from stable, Captain. It could collapse at any time."

Tasha's eyes were wide as she relayed her findings, her voice carrying a mixture of astonishment and concern. "I can now examine the ship's interior, sir… Warp field nacelles and hull-bearing struts have suffered significant damage… internal space frame—" She paused, her heart sinking as she continued, "Life signs, Captain!"

Her announcement gripped the bridge with a renewed sense of urgency. The captain and first officer exchanged stunned glances; the weight of the situation evident in their expressions. "The readings are irregular… It appears that they have suffered a large number of losses, although some are still alive," Tasha reported.

Riker quickly issued orders, his voice firm and resolute. "Bridge to Sickbay. Emergency teams. Stand by Transporter Rooms."

But Picard hesitated, his mind wrestling with the complexities of the situation. He ultimately decided to countermand his first officer's instruction. "Belay that order, Doctor," he responded. There was a hint of conflict in his voice as he weighed the potential consequences of their actions.

Riker, ever pragmatic, offered his perspective to the captain. "I respectfully suggest that, however they did it, they are here now and they require our assistance," he urged, his tone reflecting his unwavering determination to extend aid.

Picard's concern for the timeline and the course of history was evident in his response. "That starship has traveled to its own future. We're dealing with variables that could change the course of our own history," he reasoned with his first officer.

Riker, ever the advocate for those in need, reminded the captain of the ship's unique circumstances. "But their influence on history has ended, sir," he countered. "That ship vanished from history twenty-two years ago and never reappeared."

Tasha's voice was laced with concern as she relayed the message, her eyes reflecting the urgency of the situation. "Captain, the Enterprise-C is sending out a distress call, sir," she announced, her voice tinged with emotion. "Audio only."

The speakers crackled with Buffy's voice, and her words hung in the air like a haunting plea for help. The crew listened, their hearts aching at the desperation in her voice. "This Commander Buffy Summers of the Starship Enterprise, to any Federation ship," came her voice over the speakers. "We… have been attacked by Romulan warships and require… immediate assistance. We have lost warp drive… life-support is failing, and Captain Garrett is dead."

Riker's confusion was palpable as he voiced his thoughts, his brow furrowed in concern. "We have no record of a Romulan attack on the Enterprise-C..." he stated, the mystery deepening with each passing moment.

The somberness of the situation weighed heavily on the bridge as the voice message ended, leaving them with only the automated distress signal. Picard's eyes scanned the viewscreen, reflecting the turmoil of his thoughts. The crew looked to their captain, seeking guidance in the midst of uncertainty.

"Hailing frequency, Lieutenant," Picard instructed, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "I'm Captain Picard of... a Federation starship. Be prepared to receive emergency teams."

But all they received in response was silence—a silence that spoke volumes of the dire circumstances the Enterprise-C found itself in.

"We'll take it one step at a time," Picard declared, addressing his first officer with a firm resolve. "Stabilize power systems and address casualties. Avoid talking about where and when they are."

Riker nodded, acknowledging the weight of the situation. "Aye, sir," he responded as he rose to carry out the captain's orders. He exchanged a glance with Tasha, both of them silently understanding the gravity of their task.

As Riker and Tasha made their way to the turbolift, Wesley's voice chimed in, his face showing a mix of concern and anticipation. "Message coming in from Starfleet monitor stations, Captain," he informed the captain. "Klingon battlecruisers have been reported to be moving towards this sector."

Picard's shoulders tensed at the new development, his mind racing with the implications of the approaching Klingon ships. "Battle alert, Mister Crusher," he commanded, his voice firm. "Condition Yellow."

Ten Forward

Guinan's usually composed demeanor wavered, her heart heavy with a mix of confusion and concern. She stood still, her gaze fixed on the spot where a presence had just been, yet now remained eerily vacant. "It's changed... it's all changed..." she whispered to herself, the weight of the unexplained encounter tugging at her soul.

The once-familiar space of Ten Forward felt unfamiliar and disorienting, as if reality itself had shifted. The memories of her conversation with the mysterious figure lingered, leaving her with a profound sense of loss. As she approached the doors leading out of the lounge, she couldn't help but feel a lingering connection to the enigmatic presence she had encountered. It was as if a fleeting moment of understanding had passed between them, only to vanish without a trace.

Enterprise C - Bridge

As the away team materialized on the bridge of the Enterprise-C, they were met with a haunting sight. The once majestic vessel was now in disarray, with warning lights flashing like desperate cries for help, and a thick haze of smoke permeating the air. The lifeless body of the ship's captain sat in the command chair, a grim reminder of the tragedy that had befallen them.

Among the chaos, Commander Buffy Summers, the first officer and helm officer of the Enterprise-C, held her post at the console, her face contorted with pain and determination. Riker and Tasha rushed to her side; concern etched on their faces as they tried to make sense of the dire situation.

"Commander Summers?" Riker called out, his voice filled with urgency and compassion.

Buffy's response was strained, her teeth gritted against the excruciating discomfort she was enduring. Despite the pain, her focus remained resolute. "Yes," she managed to say.

"I am Commander Riker. Emergency teams are on their way to your ship," he explained, offering reassurance. He turned to look at Beverly. "Doctor."

Beverly hurried over to Buffy, while Geordi assessed the damaged engineering station. "The rest of the bridge crew is dead," she informed her superior officer. The tricorder's readings painted a grim picture. But what puzzled Beverly was the astounding self-healing process that was already underway within Buffy's body. "Her leg is fractured, and she has serious internal injuries." She turned to face Riker and twisted the tricorder to show him what she was seeing. "She's healing her own injuries at a remarkable rate."

"I'm what's known as a Millennial," Buffy rasped, her voice strained. "My body will heal itself eventually. But it will take time. Probably several hours, if not days. I'll need to be in sickbay to get back on my feet as soon as possible. Call my wife, she's the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer. She knows how to treat me."

Beverly exchanged a worried glance with Riker. Time was of the essence, and Buffy needed immediate medical attention. Relocating her to their Enterprise seemed like the best option to ensure her swift recovery. "We can't wait to see if her wife lives," Beverly stated firmly. "I'll have to get her back to the Enterprise. It's more than I can do here."

"To where?" As Buffy looked around at her unexpected visitors, her eyes widened in recognition. "Will. Beverly. How far have we come?" she murmured, her voice tinged with surprise and relief.

Riker's astonishment was evident as he replied, "You know who we are?"

"We've met, probably not from your perspective, at least not yet," Buffy said, her voice tinged with a mixture of uncertainty and familiarity. "But, yes, I know you, and so does Dawn, my wife. Though you wouldn't know us by those names."

Beverly's heart skipped a beat upon hearing the mention of Buffy's wife. The worry and relief intertwined in her expression as she replied to her superior, "This can wait."

"Right," Riker said, determination evident in his eyes. "We need to get you to our Sickbay as soon as possible. If your wife is still alive, we'll find her. I swear." His voice carried a weight of promise and compassion, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

Beverly raised her hand and touched her commbadge. "Crusher to Enterprise. Two to beam directly to Sickbay."

Riker watched as Beverly and Buffy vanished in a transporter beam. He stepped up to Geordi, who was shaking his head and staring at the console, a mixture of disbelief and concern etched on his face. "Pretty bad, Commander," stated Geordi. "It looks like they were in a fight."

Riker's jaw tightened; the distress evident in his eyes. "If you can't stabilize life-support, we'll have to evacuate the ship," he said to the chief engineer, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders.

"I think we can do it," Geordi stated, determination replacing his initial worry. "I'll have to get to Engineering..."

As Geordi approached the emergency exit, Riker gave him a brief nod, their eyes reflecting a shared sense of urgency and determination. He touched his communication badge, his fingers trembling slightly. "Alpha damage control team from La Forge. Meet me on Engineering Level 3," he said, his voice filled with a mix of anxiety and resolve, as he exited the bridge.

Riker turned toward Tasha, his heart still heavy with worry for Beverly and Buffy in the Sickbay. "And I apparently need to go to sickbay. See if I can locate their doctor," he informed her, his voice tinged with concern, seconds before they heard a rasping of metal emanating from one of the destroyed bulkheads. Tasha's eyes widened, and without a moment's hesitation, she dashed to the wall, Riker right beside her, both fueled by the adrenaline of the situation. Together, they cleared some of the rubble.

They came upon another of the Enterprise-C's officers, Richard Castillo, who was lying beneath the wreckage, his labored breathing a testament to the ordeal he had just endured. As he slowly regained consciousness, his eyes met Tasha's and Riker's, and he managed a faint but grateful smile. "Thank you," he said, his voice weak yet brimming with gratitude.

Castillo stumbled to his feet, still shaken by the chaos that had enveloped the ship. "I'm Commander Riker," Riker introduced himself, his voice filled with sympathy for the young officer's loss and the burden he now carried.

"I am Lieutenant Castillo. Science Officer," Castillo responded, his gaze shifting from Riker to Tasha, recognizing the seniority they held aboard the ship.

"Your captain has died, and your First Officer has been sent back to the Ent...back to our ship," Riker delivered the news gently, knowing the weight it carried. His eyes wandered around the devastated bridge, and he could sense the mixture of shock and sorrow in Castillo's expression. "You currently appear to be the senior officer remaining aboard."

The sight of his former colleagues' lifeless bodies added to Castillo's sorrow. His eyes lingered on his captain's body, and he swallowed hard, the loss hitting him deeply. "So, it would appear," he remarked, his voice tinged with grief, as Tasha and Riker exchanged glances, sharing the emotional burden of this moment of tragedy and uncertainty.

Enterprise D - Bridge

"Away team reporting in, sir," Data stated to the captain, his tone measured and precise, yet underneath, a hint of tension betrayed the gravity of their situation.

"On screen, Mister Data," Picard said, his voice commanding, as Riker appeared on the viewscreen standing on the Enterprise-C's bridge. "Go ahead, Commander," he urged, fully aware of the challenges they were facing.

"We've stabilized life support, Captain," Riker said, exhaustion evident in his eyes and the strain in his voice. "Mister La Forge is working hard to restore the main power couplings, but it will take some time. Over here, things are a complete mess," he added, his frustration and concern palpable.

"Survivors?" Picard inquired, his gaze piercing as he sought to gauge the extent of the catastrophe.

"One hundred and twenty-five, sir," Riker said, his voice tinged with sadness, the weight of the lives lost weighing heavily on him.

"Out of seven hundred," Wesley said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, expressing the enormity of the tragedy.

"Recommendation?" Picard pondered, his face a mix of empathy and strategic thinking, as he momentarily disregarded Wesley's observation.

"I'd hate to have to scrap her, sir," Riker confessed, his emotional attachment to the old ship evident. "Starfleet could certainly use another ship, even if it is a little old," he added, his voice carrying a sense of nostalgia and respect for the vessel's legacy.

Picard nodded, understanding Riker's sentiment, and recognizing the potential value of a starship like the Enterprise-C. "Agreed. But we can't remain here for very long." His pause betrayed the weight of the decision he was about to make. "You've got nine hours. We'll accompany her back to Starbase 105 if you can get her underway in that time. If not, we'll evacuate the survivors and destroy the ship." His words were measured, but the emotional burden of such a decision was evident in his eyes.

"I understand, sir. There's something else, sir," Riker continued, his voice conveying a mixture of astonishment and concern. "This ship's First Officer, Commander Buffy Summers," he informed his Captain, his mind still grappling with the revelations they had encountered. "She recognized both myself and Doctor Crusher. She said we journeyed back in time and met her and her wife at some point in their history, sometime in our future. Doctor Crusher beamed her over to our sickbay to treat her injuries," he explained, his words almost sounding like a surreal tale.

"Thank you, Commander; I'll make sure to speak with her," Picard said, his gratitude for the report mingled with a sense of curiosity about the enigmatic Commander Buffy Summers.

As Guinan entered the bridge, she took a glance around; everything seemed familiar, but yet strange...like everything else on board. The weight of her emotions was palpable as she tried to make sense of the unsettling atmosphere enveloping the ship.

"Keep me posted, Picard out," Picard remarked as Riker faded from view, the urgency of the situation etched on his face. He turned to gaze at Guinan, surprised since he couldn't recall the last time she'd come to the bridge. The captain's concern grew, sensing something deeply troubling in Guinan's demeanor. "Guinan…?"

"We need to talk. Now. Everything is wrong, Captain. This is not how it should be," Guinan remarked quietly but forcefully, her voice tinged with anxiety and a sense of urgency that matched the gravity of her words.

"Changed? How?" Picard inquired, guiding her gently into his ready room, his own heart racing with concern for his trusted confidant.

Guinan shook her head, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "I'm not sure..." she admitted, the emotional turmoil evident in her eyes.

"You must have some idea how things have changed..." Picard probed, hoping to understand the source of her distress.

"I look at things... at people... They don't feel right," Guinan explained, her voice filled with a profound sadness and uncertainty.

"What things? What people?" he inquired, trying to grasp the scope of the situation.

Guinan looked aimlessly about, her gaze distant and troubled. "There's the bridge..." Her words trailed off as she struggled to put her feelings into coherent thoughts.

"What's the matter with it?" Picard inquired, his concern deepening, knowing that whatever was affecting Guinan was of great significance.

"It's not right," said Guinan, her voice filled with a mix of concern and certainty, as she struggled to convey the depth of her emotions to Picard.

"Guinan, it's the same bridge. Nothing has changed," he informed her, trying to offer reassurance despite his own uncertainty about the situation.

Guinan sat down, her face reflecting a mix of worry and perplexity. "I understand. And I also know... it's incorrect." Her words carried a weight of sorrow and empathy for Picard, knowing that he was trying to make sense of an inexplicable situation.

Picard sat next to her, their closeness offering a sense of comfort amid the confusion surrounding them. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever else Guinan might reveal. "What else?" he inquired gently, eager to understand the breadth of her insights.

"I have a feeling that I was talking to someone just before that ship appeared. Someone I'd known for a long time. Then it was gone, whoever it was. I just have a hazy memory of what was stated. Something to do with the timeline shifting. Everything is so transient," Guinan shared, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. She struggled to grasp the elusive fragments of memory, knowing their importance in understanding the situation at hand.

"Anything else?" he inquired, his voice soft yet insistent, recognizing the significance of her revelations and the need to gather as much information as possible.

Families. There should be children around..." Guinan began, her voice tinged with wistfulness and a sense of longing, the absence of families and laughter weighing heavily on her heart. It was then that she received a sudden and vivid flash of memory, as if she was recalling a portion of a heartfelt discussion. "And what about your desire, Dawn?" she pondered, her voice soft and introspective.

"Who's Dawn?" Picard inquired, sensing the depth of Guinan's emotions and the significance of the memory she had just experienced.

Guinan gazed up at Picard, her eyes widening with comprehension and emotional intensity. "Dawn Summers, her wife is..." Her voice trembled with emotion, feeling the weight of the revelation settling in.

"Buffy Summers," Picard said, remembering the Enterprise-C's First Officer. He shared Guinan's astonishment as the pieces of the puzzle began to come together. "How long did you know them?" he inquired; his curiosity piqued.

"Centuries," Guinan replied, her voice filled with reverence for the timeless bond she shared with the millennial couple. "They are what are called Millennial. They will live for a thousand years, unable to die until the beginning of the following millennium. They've met you. According to Dawn and Buffy, your future self will go back in time. I'm pretty sure Dawn was the one I was talking to before time changed," she explained, the weight of the revelation settling upon her shoulders.

Picard took a close look at the bartender, his expression a mix of awe and realization. "Guinan, what you're suggesting..." He paused, struggling to grasp the enormity of the implications.

"It's not a suggestion, Captain," Guinan clarified, her voice steady and resolute. "If what I'm understanding now is correct. That ship has to return."

Sickbay

Buffy lay on a table, her vulnerability laid bare as Beverly worked on her, the doctor's hands trembling slightly from a mix of concentration and concern. On another table nearby, Dawn rested, surrounded by other medical personnel who tended to her injuries, their expressions mirroring the seriousness of the situation.

"I'm Captain Picard," Picard introduced himself, his voice carrying a mix of authority and empathy as he approached Buffy, recognizing the significance of the moment.

"I know, Jean-Luc," Buffy said, her voice soft yet tinged with a bittersweet emotion. "It's weird. Looking at you, this ship, so unfamiliar to me. This is an alternate reality from the one you came from when Dawn and I met you, isn't it?" Her words held a sense of wonder and confusion, as if trying to reconcile the different pieces of her reality.

"I don't know," Picard answered honestly, his own emotions swirling as he grappled with the complexities of the situation. "All I know for sure is talking to a few people that I supposedly meet you sometime in my future when I and my crew travel to your past."

"There is a way to know more," Buffy said, her voice resolute despite her physical condition. "Contact Starfleet. Talk to Admiral Angel O'Conner. Give him the phrase, Slayer. Tell him you have Buffy and Dawn Summers onboard. Tell him you need access to classified information. He will know what you mean."

"Alright," Picard said, his determination growing, recognizing the importance of the information Buffy provided.

"So, how's…" Buffy began, but her voice faltered as the painful realization hit her—Captain Garrett was dead. She quickly corrected herself. "How's my ship and crew?" Her emotions were raw, her concern for her crewmates evident in her eyes.

"Life support systems have been restored," Picard gently informed the acting captain of the Enterprise-C, knowing the weight of the responsibility now on Buffy's shoulders. "Repairs are continuing. If I may ask, what is the last thing you remember?"

"We were answering the distress signal..." Buffy said, her voice trailing off, a haunted look in her eyes.

"Distress signal...?" Picard queried, his own memories failing to align with the events Buffy described.

"From the Klingon outpost, Narendra Three," Buffy answered, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow and realization. She saw in Picard's eyes that he didn't recognize the incident. "History didn't record it, did it?"

"No," Picard answered, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and concern. "Twenty-two years ago, records show you disappearing from Narendra Three. There are no records of a Romulan attack. No distress call." The revelation hung heavily in the air, adding to the confusion and uncertainty of the situation.

"Who knows?" Buffy asked, her voice carrying a sense of wonder and trepidation. "That we jumped forward in time?" The possibility of such a temporal leap was both exhilarating and unsettling for her.

"Only you and…" Picard said as he motioned toward Dawn, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. "And even then, only because the two of you recognized us."

"Difficult decision," Dawn said, her voice soft yet resolute as she glanced over at Buffy and Picard from her bed. She nodded at Picard, the weight of her own experiences as a captain evident in her words. "Hello, Jean-Luc. When I say difficult decision, I know that from experience. For a brief time, I held the rank of Captain. I know we have to go back, but the question is, how much do we tell our crew? We don't want to pollute the timeline any more than it is now." Her sense of responsibility and the weight of their decision was evident in her expression.

"You are of course correct," Picard agreed, his voice gentle and understanding. "It is a difficult decision." He looked at Buffy, his eyes expressing his respect for her leadership. "If you wish, I will see to it that your crew is informed… Let's table that discussion for now." He looked at Dawn, his gaze carrying a mixture of curiosity and recognition. "One of my people knew this happened. She says you know her. That you both know her."

"Who?" Buffy and Dawn asked, their curiosity piqued by Picard's revelation.

"Her name is Guinan," Picard answered, his voice almost reverent as he spoke of the extraordinary being.

"Yes, we know her," Buffy said, her voice carrying a mixture of familiarity and reverence for the ancient presence they had encountered.

"Very well," Dawn added, her voice steady despite the multitude of emotions swirling within her. "We met after the Third World War. Why don't we table that for now? I think we should discuss how we got here in the first place."

"Dawn's right," Buffy agreed, her voice carrying a mix of determination and agreement, grateful for the support and understanding from her wife.

"So, what happened just before you sent the distress call that we heard?" Picard questioned, his gaze fixed on them with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"There was a fierce volley with four Romulan warbirds of photon torpedoes…we were hit…there was a bright light and then…here," Buffy answered, her voice tinged with a trace of vulnerability as she recalled the harrowing events that led them to this alternate reality.

Picard nodded; his expression solemn as he absorbed their account of the tragic events. "It is possible your exchange of fire was the catalyst for the formation of a temporal rift," he informed them, his voice tinged with regret for the outcome of their mission. "Sadly, the Narendra Three outpost was wiped out. It is regrettable you did not succeed. If a Federation starship had rescued a Klingon outpost… it might have averted twenty years of war."

Buffy and Dawn looked at each other in surprise, their emotions mirroring the shock at the revelation. When they had last seen Picard, he had spoken of a different future, one that had not been ravaged by war. The realization that they were in an alternate timeline added to their sense of displacement and uncertainty.

"It's confirmed, we're in an alternate timeline," Buffy admitted, her voice carrying a mixture of acceptance and concern as she looked back at Picard. "Last time we saw you, you told us of the Federation of your time, and with the exclusion of the Borg, there was no war, especially with the Klingons."

Enterprise C - Bridge

"I'm not getting any kind of ready condition on the impulse engines, La Forge…" Riker's voice was filled with urgency and frustration as he worked at the forward Ops console, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on his shoulders.

"Acknowledged, Commander…some of the engine control processors went off-line. And there's probably damage to the accelerator coils…stand by…" Geordi's response over Riker's commbadge carried a mix of concern and determination, mirroring the urgency of their efforts to restore the ship.

Tasha and Castillo stood side by side at the aft stations, their faces etched with a mix of disbelief and sadness. "I just can't quite make myself believe it," Castillo murmured, his voice tinged with a profound sense of awe and disbelief at the incredible leap they had taken into the future. "Twenty-two years…"

"I'm reading forty percent on forward shields…" Tasha reported, her voice remaining professional despite the emotional turmoil swirling within her. "What do you have on aft?" she inquired, seeking to assess the state of the ship's defenses.

Castillo looked at the console in front of him, the weight of the situation sinking in. "Forty percent…" His response mirrored Tasha's findings, but both knew that such meager protection was far from adequate.

"That's not going to do…" Tasha said, her concern evident as she exchanged a worried glance with Riker. "Commander, advise Lieutenant La Forge that shields are below minimum…" Her voice carried a mix of determination and hope, as if reaching out for a solution amid the chaos.

"Acknowledged…" Riker agreed, feeling the heavy responsibility of informing Geordi about the critical state of the ship's defenses.

"We'll never see our families again," Castillo's voice was heavy with sorrow as he spoke the painful truth. "Our homes…" The enormity of the loss and uncertainty about the fate of their loved ones weighed heavily on his heart.

"How do you know your family's not still alive?" Tasha gently wondered, addressing his concern for the first time, her voice filled with empathy and understanding. She sought to offer a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded them.

"You're right…" Castillo admitted, his voice softening with a touch of vulnerability. "I don't… but imagine coming home after twenty-two years… Would I even recognize them?" His words carried the weight of a lifetime of missed moments and the emotional toll of being separated from everything he once held dear.

Tasha had returned to the console she had been working on, her hands moving with purpose, but her mind still burdened with the weight of their temporal predicament. "What are the status readouts on main phaser banks?" Her voice held a mix of determination and concern as she sought to gauge the ship's combat capabilities.

"Emitters available—sixty percent forward, fifty-two percent aft," Castillo answered, his eyes glancing back at the console before him. He couldn't shake off the emotional turmoil within him, still grappling with the reality of being lost in time and the uncertainties that lay ahead.

Tasha nodded in acknowledgment. "Let's take a look at the torpedo launchers…" she instructed; her voice steady but tinged with a hint of trepidation.

"I guess I'm lucky to be alive at all," he admitted, the realization of his survival amid the temporal shift adding to the emotional whirlwind inside him. He couldn't help but wonder why fate had allowed him to endure such a tumultuous journey.

"You may not like the future," Tasha admitted, her voice carrying the weight of the long and arduous war they had endured. "It's been a long war. The Federation's lost more than half of Starfleet to the Klingons." The truth she revealed hung heavily in the air, their reality a stark contrast to the world he had known before.

Castillo looked at her in shock, trying to come to terms with the stark difference between the future he had expected and the one she described. "We were negotiating a peace treaty with the Klingons when I left…" he said, the sorrow evident in his voice as he grappled with the changes that had transpired.

"A lot of changes, Lieutenant," Tasha said, her voice tinged with regret and sadness. "A lot of changes." She couldn't help but feel the weight of their shared history and the immense gap between the past he remembered and the present they now faced.

He nodded, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in his eyes. "When we get a break, maybe you could fill me in on some of them," he suggested, seeking to understand the timeline they had stumbled into.

Tasha took a moment, her expression softening with empathy, before nodding in agreement. She knew that sharing the painful truths of their time could help him come to terms with the reality they faced. "Photon banks are depleted… auxiliary fusion generators are down…" she reported, her voice reverting to a professional tone as they continued their crucial work, even in the face of emotional upheaval.

Enterprise D - Bridge

Picard stood behind Data at the aft science station, his face a mix of contemplation and concern as he studied the graphic displayed on the monitor. "The probability is high that the temporal rift is symmetrical, Captain," Data informed him, his voice steady and logical as always.

"If that is the case, what would happen if the Enterprise-C were to fly back through it?" Picard questioned, his mind grappling with the implications of such an action.

Data looked at Picard in surprise, his golden eyes reflecting his processing of the scenario. "Back, sir? The Enterprise-C would emerge in her own time period at almost the same instant she left," he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"Right in the middle of her battle with the Romulans," Picard said, his voice growing softer as the gravity of the situation settled upon him.

"Yes, sir," Data confirmed, realizing the significance of the revelation.

"Based on the logs of the Enterprise-C, is there any possibility she could survive that battle?" Picard wondered; his voice filled with concern for the crew of the ill-fated ship.

"None, sir," Data answered honestly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

Picard sighed, his shoulders sagging with the burden of the decision he was facing. "Then sending them back would be condemning all but two of them to death," he said, the weight of the truth hitting him hard. He had done as Buffy suggested and contacted Starfleet about her and Dawn, gaining access to their full files. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, knowing that the lives of the Enterprise-C's crew now rested in his hands.

If the Enterprise-C were to be destroyed by the Romulans, Buffy and Dawn would be the only survivors, left adrift in the vastness of space for years, decades, or even centuries, trapped in an unending cycle of death till they were either found and rescued or they reached the end of their millennia-long life. The emotional toll of such a fate was unimaginable, and Picard knew that whatever decision he made would have far-reaching consequences for all involved. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the lives at stake and the immense responsibility that rested upon him as the captain of the Enterprise-D.

Transporter Room

Castillo looked around the transporter room, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Unbelievable," he uttered, his voice filled with wonder and amazement seconds after materializing. The sight of the advanced technology and the grandeur of the Galaxy-class starship left him breathless.

"Lieutenant…?" Tasha's voice came from beside the door, breaking Castillo's momentary trance. She stepped forward to lead him out of the transporter room and down the corridor, noticing his curious gaze sweeping over everything and everyone they passed. Her heart softened as she recognized the mix of excitement and confusion in his eyes.

"She was the first Galaxy Class warship built by the Federation…" Tasha informed him; her voice tinged with pride as she shared some background about the ship. "Forty-two decks… capable of transporting over six thousand troops…" Her knowledge about the Enterprise-D flowed effortlessly, and she was eager to give Castillo a glimpse of the magnificence that surrounded them.

"How long have you been on board?" he wondered, his attention now fully on Tasha, curious about her experiences on the legendary starship.

"Four years," Tasha answered, a small smile forming on her lips as she recalled her journey. "Straight out of the Academy. I was lucky to get the Enterprise." Her voice held a mix of gratitude and humility, cherishing the opportunity to serve on such a prestigious vessel.

"Yeah, me too. I mean…" Castillo hesitated for a moment; his voice filled with a mix of emotions. He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pride and connection to the ship before them. "My Enterprise."

Sickbay

Buffy lay on a biobed, her body still in the process of repairing itself. Dawn stood beside her, her hands gently running a tricorder over Buffy's form as Castillo and Tasha walked through the doors from the corridor. Buffy and Dawn looked at Castillo, who nodded at them with a mix of respect and concern.

"Castillo, how's the ship?" Buffy asked, her voice carrying a sense of urgency and determination.

"We've restored minimal shields and the forward phaser banks," he answered, his voice tinged with a mix of accomplishment and frustration. "Still no photon launchers or warp drive."

Buffy nodded; her jaw clenched as she absorbed the information. "Concentrate on the weapon systems. As soon as she's ready, we will be going back," she instructed, her voice holding a sense of resolute purpose.

"Back?" Castillo asked in surprise, the gravity of the decision weighing heavily on his mind. He exchanged a glance with Tasha, seeking confirmation.

"I don't think anything has been decided for sure," Beverly said gently as she approached the four of them, her voice calm and reassuring, yet tinged with worry.

"No, it has been decided," Buffy countered firmly. "We have to, Beverly. By being here, we've changed history… future history. We have to set it right." Her words carried the weight of responsibility, knowing the potential consequences of their actions.

"Well, we need to hurry up on the repairs then," Tasha admitted, her voice tinged with urgency as she considered the looming threat. "Our sensors have picked up Klingon warships in this sector, Commander." The stress of the situation was evident on her face.

Buffy glanced at Dawn, her eyes filled with concern for her wife, before turning her attention back to Castillo. "Why wasn't I informed?" she said, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and vulnerability as she started to get off the bed, driven by her need to take charge and protect her crew.

"Commander, you shouldn't—" Castillo started, his voice reflecting his concern for Buffy's well-being.

"With Captain Garrett dead, I am the senior officer," Buffy said, her voice carrying a mix of sorrow and determination as she steadied herself with Dawn's help. She glanced toward Dawn, their eyes meeting with an unspoken understanding that their roles had drastically shifted in this altered reality. "That makes you my First Officer, Dawn," she affirmed, her voice holding a sense of responsibility and trust.

"Understood, Buffy," Dawn nodded, her voice steady despite the weight of a position she had not held since her time on the Reliant. "That means I probably ought to get back to the Enterprise-C and oversee repairs," she said, her thoughts already turning to the crucial tasks ahead.

Buffy looked back at Castillo, her eyes locking onto his with a mixture of assurance and command. "Castillo, I want you to be my liaison to the Enterprise-D… coordinate with Tactical…"

"That's me, Commander," Tasha informed Buffy, her voice respectful and resolute, eager to assist in any way possible.

Beverly, always attentive to the well-being of her patients, looked Buffy over with concern etched on her face. "Are you sure your body has finished healing?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry and medical caution.

Dawn glanced at her fellow doctor, offering a small but reassuring smile. "It doesn't matter. Neither Buffy nor I could die from any injuries anyway. Within the span of our Millennium, we are effectively immortal," she explained.

Observation Lounge

The door of the observation lounge slid open as Guinan entered, her eyes immediately finding Picard, who stood alone at the far end of the table filled with wartime displays and charts. He looked up, and in that fleeting moment, their gazes locked, conveying a shared burden of responsibility and uncertainty. "I need more," he said, his voice laden with frustration and desperation.

Guinan looked at him, her face reflective of the profound knowledge she held. "There is no more," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret and longing. "I wish there was, Captain. I wish I could prove it. I can't."

"Then I can't send them back," Picard said, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision he faced, torn between his duty as a commanding officer and the desire to protect his crew.

"That decision isn't yours to make," came a voice from behind Guinan and Picard. They turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway, her presence exuding a quiet strength and determination. "Hello, Guinan," Buffy greeted warmly, embracing her friend.

"Hello, Buffy," Guinan replied, returning the embrace with a mix of affection and concern.

"Commander," Picard acknowledged, moving toward Buffy as they faced each other with respect and empathy. "I'm sorry, but as a superior officer, I have to overrule you. Your crew will die moments after you return... how can I ask them to sacrifice their lives based solely on yours and Guinan's intuition?"

"It's not intuition," Buffy admitted, her voice steady as she spoke her truth. "You see, I know for a fact this future should not exist. Do you know when I met you?" Picard shook his head, his curiosity piqued. "Earth's First Contact with the Vulcans. You had traveled back in time to protect a future that a race of cybernetic beings known as the Borg were trying to change. When Dawn and I learned when you were from, you told us of your future. A future where you weren't at war with the Klingons. In fact, your chief of security was a Klingon. Dawn and I served with you by the time you came from for years. We were close personal friends. If we don't go back, if we don't make history right, that future will never happen. And you and I will never have met, changing my history. We have to go back; there is no way around it."

"I understand what you're saying, Commander… Buffy," Picard said, his voice softened by the weight of her words and the bond they shared. "But how can you guarantee you will succeed? You could conceivably create a third timeline. Every instinct tells me it's wrong and dangerous and futile."

"I know," Buffy said sympathetically, her empathy for Picard evident. "I don't want to ask my crew to do this either. But we must. Trust me, Jean-Luc. Not as a fellow officer, but as a friend."

"Buffy is right," Guinan interjected, her voice carrying the wisdom of ages. "This timeline cannot be allowed to continue. You must let them go back."

Ten Forward

"Deflector shield technology has advanced considerably during the war…our heat-dissipation rates are probably double those of the Enterprise C, so we can hang in a firefight longer…" Tasha spoke with a mix of pride and determination, her voice reflecting her deep knowledge and commitment to her duty.

Guinan walked into the room, her keen senses attuned to the emotional undercurrents around her. Something about Tasha caught her attention. Moving gracefully behind the bar, Guinan approached Tasha, trying to discern what it was that had caught her attention.

As Tasha turned to face her Guinan she noticed a fleeting moment of vulnerability in Guinan's expression, as if there were something she hesitated to share. "Guinan…?" Her voice carried a hint of worry, wondering what could be troubling her so.

"Have you ordered yet, Tasha?" Guinan inquired, her question seemingly simple, yet a veil of deeper meaning hinted in her gaze.

Tasha shook her head, her eyes remaining locked with Guinan's. "Not yet…Is something wrong, Guinan?" she asked.

"Not a thing. What can I get you?" Guinan replied, her voice calm and collected, but Tasha sensed a hint of distraction in her friend's demeanor.

A moment passed, and Tasha studied Guinan with concern, recognizing that something was amiss. "Just a couple of T-K-L meal rations... we're in a hurry," Tasha requested, trying to keep the conversation casual while also acknowledging their urgent situation. She hesitated before introducing Castillo, wanting to respect Guinan's privacy. "Oh, this is Lieutenant Castillo…"

Guinan nodded, but Tasha couldn't ignore the swift movement, as if Guinan was avoiding eye contact. The normally composed and enigmatic bartender seemed unsettled, and Tasha couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for her friend.

"First time for everything," Tasha remarked with genuine curiosity as she observed Guinan, her mind trying to unravel the mystery behind the bartender's uncharacteristic behavior.

"First time?" Castillo inquired, his confusion mirroring Tasha's.

Tasha chuckled softly, trying to lighten the atmosphere despite her concerns. "It's just that I've never seen anything bother her before," she explained, gesturing subtly toward Guinan, who was still preoccupied.

Castillo grinned, seemingly unfazed by Guinan's momentary distraction. "What's a T-K-L?" he inquired, trying to shift the focus of their conversation.

"Standard rations. Food replicators are on minimum power…" Tasha explained, her mind still partially occupied with thoughts of Guinan. "Everything else is diverted to defensive systems." She paused for a moment, her thoughts shifting back to their discussion about tactical matters. "So where was I…"

"You've told me more about tactical in an hour than I learned my last year in the Academy…" Castillo remarked, a mixture of awe and admiration in his voice.

"You're gonna need it, Lieutenant…" Tasha said, her voice carrying a mix of concern and encouragement, knowing that Castillo was about to face the challenges of their current situation.

"Hey, I've known you a whole day now, Lieutenant," Castillo interjected with a light-hearted tone, trying to alleviate the tension between them. "I won't salute if you won't. What did she call you… Tasha?"

Tasha chuckled softly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Yeah."

"Most everybody just calls me Castillo. My mother calls me Richard," Castillo revealed, his voice softening as he shared a glimpse of his personal history.

Tasha smiled warmly, feeling a sense of camaraderie with her new acquaintance. "Okay, Castillo."

But then, Castillo surprised her with a hint of shyness in his voice. "Naw, I think maybe I'd like it better if you called me Richard…"

Tasha's heart warmed at his vulnerability, appreciating the trust he showed in sharing his preference with her. "Richard," she said with a nod, wanting to honor his request.

Before their lighthearted exchange could continue, Picard's voice echoed over the intercom, "This is the captain. Senior officers will report to my Ready Room immediately." The seriousness of the situation pulled them back to reality, reminding them of their duties and responsibilities.

"So much for lunch," Tasha said, her voice tinged with a touch of disappointment, but she quickly shifted her focus to the impending meeting with the captain. She and Richard exchanged a determined look before heading for the exit.

Ready Room

Buffy sat on the couch in Picard's ready room, her emotions swirling as she listened intently to the captain's briefing of his officers.

"Captain, are you suggesting they should return and attempt to complete their mission?" Beverly's voice held a mix of surprise and concern, her medical instincts causing her to question the potential risks.

"I am, Doctor," Picard replied with unwavering resolve, knowing the weight of the decision he was making. The fate of two crews and the course of history hung in the balance.

"But it won't accomplish anything," Riker added, his voice joining the chorus of doubts. "There's no way they can save Narendra Three..."

Tasha turned toward Buffy, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and trepidation. "You said there were four Romulan warbirds. You would be outmanned and outgunned..." she stated, the reality of the situation sinking in.

"True," Buffy acknowledged with a heavy heart. "We will be outmanned and outgunned. And there is a good chance that Dawn and I will be the only ones..."

The realization of the potential sacrifice weighed heavily on Buffy, her concern for her crew members and their future etched on her face.

"Unless we were to re-arm them with modern..." Geordi interjected, offering a glimmer of hope, but Buffy knew the risks all too well.

"You can't do that," Buffy replied, her voice holding a mix of determination and concern. She knew the consequences of altering the past and understood the delicate balance that had to be maintained.

Picard sighed; the weight of the decision evident in his expression. "Commander Summers is correct. If we send her and her crew back with new technology... we would be altering the past."

The tension in the room was palpable, emotions running high as the officers grappled with the weight of the decision before them.

"But that's what you're talking about doing anyway, isn't it?" Riker's voice was tinged with skepticism and concern. "Altering the past."

Buffy's eyes met Riker's, a hint of determination in her gaze. "Restoring the past," she corrected, her voice firm with conviction.

Geordi's curiosity took over, and he questioned Buffy's certainty. "How do you know that history has been altered?"

With a solemn expression, Buffy began to explain her experiences. "As I told Jean-Luc and Will," she began, "with the exception of you, Tasha, I've met all of you in my past, your future. In the year 2063, you all came to the past from a future where you were not at war with the Klingons. You had come back to stop a different hostile entity known as the Borg from changing the future. Dawn and I met you then. Jean-Luc told us about your time. He made no mention of there being a war with the Klingons. In fact, his chief of security was a Klingon."

The weight of her words hung in the air, the implications of a changed history beginning to dawn on the officers.

Geordi tried to offer an alternative perspective, but Buffy remained steadfast in her belief. "The war could simply have been over by whatever year we came from," he suggested. "How could Guinan know that history has been altered... if she's been altered along with the rest of us?"

"Perhaps her species has a perception that goes beyond linear time," Data suggested, adding another layer of mystery to their situation.

"She does," Buffy added, knowing the depth of Guinan's abilities.

Picard's expression was contemplative as he weighed the information before him. "That said," he began, "even she cannot explain how or why she senses that history has been altered. Yet with her belief, coupled with Commander Summers' account of meeting our future selves, it is very possible they're correct. Regardless, a ship from the past has traveled through time. The Enterprise-C must go back; the consequences of it remaining here are too grave to ignore."

Riker attempted to offer his opinion, his emotions torn between duty and moral implications. "Sir, if you wish my opinion..."

Picard's response was resolute, his emotions hidden beneath the weight of command. "I think I know your opinion, Commander. This is a briefing. I'm not seeking your consent."

Riker's emotions were palpable as he refused to back off, standing firm in his convictions, challenging Picard with a mix of respect and concern. "With all due respect, Captain, we'd be asking one hundred and twenty-five people to die a meaningless death."

The tension in the room heightened as Buffy corrected the count, her voice carrying a mixture of determination and sadness. "One hundred and twenty-three. Dawn and I are effectively immortal. And not necessarily meaningless. Klingons place honor above all else."

Data, the embodiment of logic and reason, joined in the conversation, his tone neutral but thoughtful. "Commander Summers is correct. If the crew of the Enterprise-C had died fighting for the survival of a Klingon outpost, that would have been considered a meaningful act of honor by the Klingon Empire."

Buffy and Data's insights brought a solemn pause to the conversation, the weight of their words hanging heavily in the air. Picard's expression softened, and his voice carried a mix of contemplation and compassion as he responded, "Even their deaths… might have prevented this war."

The complexity of the situation weighed heavily on Picard, the burden of making the right decision evident in his features. He looked around the room, his eyes meeting those of each officer, acknowledging the gravity of the choices before them.

"If the Enterprise-C returns to the battle and its mission is a success, history will be irrevocably changed," Picard continued, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and uncertainty. "This timeline will cease to exist… and a new future will have been created. A future that potentially aligns with the one where we met Commander Summers and her wife in their past."

Emotions ran high among the officers, each grappling with the implications of Picard's words and the profound responsibility they shared.

"I've weighed the alternatives," Picard concluded, his voice steady and resolute. "I am siding with Commander Summers and Guinan's recommendations. Dismissed."

Enterprise-C Bridge

The bridge hummed with a mixture of determination and uncertainty as Tasha and Castillo continued their work at the aft stations, ensuring that the Enterprise-C would be as prepared as possible for its daring mission. Dawn, seated at Buffy's former station, ran her checks with a focused intensity, fully aware of the immense stakes that hung in the balance.

Amidst the hum of activity, Buffy turned her gaze to Picard, her expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. Her heart was heavy with the gravity of the mission, knowing that their actions could reshape the course of history. Her question hung in the air, laden with the weight of their uncertain fate. "Honestly," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of trepidation, "What do you think our odds are?"

Picard's gaze met Buffy's, a mixture of empathy and resolve in his eyes as he faced the burden of leadership and the responsibility of making the right choice. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice steady but tinged with a touch of uncertainty.

"Honestly," he replied, "I don't know. The task ahead is daunting, and the odds may not be in your favor. But you are right. For you to stay here rewrites your history, my future. Both need to be set back on track. In the here and now the war is going badly for the Federation. Much worse than is generally known. Starfleet Command believes defeat is inevitable... that within six months we will have no choice but to surrender…"

Buffy nodded. "As I suspected. One more ship in your war won't make a difference. But in our time one ship could stop your war before it starts." She glanced at Dawn. "Dawn, have you informed the crew yet?"

Dawn's voice trembled slightly as she replied, "I was just about to, Buffy." Her emotions were a mix of nerves and courage as she prepared to address the crew and share the gravity of their mission. The weight of her responsibility as First Officer was evident, but she drew strength from her bond with Buffy and the shared conviction that their actions could change the course of time.

As Tasha and Castillo exchanged a glance, their emotions were evident, knowing the immense risks and sacrifices that lay ahead. They had forged a connection in the face of uncertainty and found solace in each other's support.

Buffy cast a determined glance back at Picard, her eyes ablaze with confidence. "The Romulans are in for a battle they won't forget. This will be one for the history books."

"I have no doubt about that, Captain," Picard replied, his voice filled with unwavering support, acknowledging Buffy's leadership even without an official rank. He then turned to Tasha, giving her his undivided attention. "Lieutenant Yar..."

Tasha mustered the courage to ask, her voice tinged with emotion, "Permission to stay for a moment, sir..."

Picard recognized the sadness in her eyes, understanding that she needed a moment to bid farewell to Castillo. "Granted," he said gently, showing empathy for her feelings.

Enterprise-C Transporter Room

Tears glistened in Tasha's eyes as she and Castillo stood in the transporter room, ready to part ways. "I just wanted to say good luck," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Castillo gave her a small, reassuring smile, trying to mask the sadness that lurked beneath. "I'll try to put some of your tactical briefing to good use when we get back," he replied, his voice betraying a mix of determination and fondness.

Trying to keep her composure, Tasha couldn't help but share her expertise even in this bittersweet moment. "Your ship has a lot more maneuverability than the Romulan counterparts of that era," she said, her voice quivering slightly. "In fact, if you could isolate..." She halted mid-sentence, realizing that technical discussions were not what they needed right now. "You'll do fine," she concluded softly.

Then, with a hint of playful hope, Castillo added, "If you get back to Earth... and you see a man, oh, in his late fifties taking a hard look at you across a crowded room..."

Tasha managed a wistful smile, her heart aching at the thought of what might never be. "Hey, you never know," she replied, her voice laced with longing. Summoning all her strength to hold back her emotions, Tasha extended her hand toward Castillo. "Good-bye, Lieutenant," she said, trying to steady her trembling hand.

Just as Castillo reached for her hand, an explosion reverberated through the ship, throwing them off balance. "Red Alert! All Hands to Battle Stations!" Buffy's urgent voice blared from the intercom, snapping them back to the grim reality of their roles on the starship.

Enterprise-C Bridge

Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes as she sat in the command chair, staring at the viewscreen that displayed the formidable Klingon bird of prey. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of determination and fear gripping her emotions tightly. Castillo and Tasha rushed onto the bridge, their faces reflecting the gravity of the situation. Castillo swiftly made his way to the science station, while Tasha took her place at the tactical controls.

"Full power to shields," Buffy commanded, her voice resolute but laden with worry for her crew's safety.

"Shields are up. Functioning," Tasha responded, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

Dawn, ever the capable navigator, initiated evasive maneuvers, her fingers flying across the controls in a desperate dance to avoid the incoming threat. "Gamma sequence," she called out, her voice tinged with urgency.

With her heart still pounding, Buffy turned her attention to the communication with the Enterprise-D, seeking reassurance in the midst of the chaos. "Enterprise-D, has your captain returned safely..." she inquired, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and concern.

"Acknowledged, Enterprise-C," came Riker's voice through the comms, offering a glimmer of comfort in the face of danger.

As if steeling herself for what was to come, Buffy nodded before shifting her focus back to the viewscreen, her determination resurfacing. "Fire phasers," she commanded, her tone firm.

"Firing phasers," Tasha responded, her hands working swiftly and skillfully.

But before the torpedoes could be launched, the ship was hit by a massive explosion. Buffy was thrown violently from her seat, the impact knocking her down amidst the chaos of flying debris. Pain surged through her body, but she fought to stay conscious, trying to gather her bearings.

Dawn, witnessing the accident, turned her gaze toward Castillo, her eyes filled with concern. "Castillo, take the helm," she ordered, her voice unwavering despite the turmoil around them. With determination etched on her face, Dawn moved away from her console, pulling out a medical tricorder to assess the extent of Buffy's injuries, her heart aching at the sight of her injured wife.

Enterprise-D Bridge

The tension on the bridge was palpable as Data's voice trembled slightly while reporting, "The Klingon vessel has re-cloaked, sir. I have no readings." The loss of their target weighed heavily on the crew, knowing that the enemy could strike at any moment.

"Captain Summers—damage report," Picard urgently requested, his voice thick with concern, but there was no immediate response. The absence of a reply made his worry grow deeper. "Captain Summers?" he called out again, hoping for a reassuring answer.

Instead, it was Lieutenant Tasha Yar's voice that came through the comms, her tone betraying a mix of determination and concern. "This is Lieutenant Yar, sir," she responded.

Enterprise-C Bridge

Dawn's heart ached as she knelt beside Buffy, her beloved wife and captain, who lay unconscious after the brutal attack. Tears welled up in Dawn's eyes as she glanced up at Tasha, her voice trembling with a mix of worry and determination. "Tell him, I've just assumed command," she said, trying to stay composed despite the emotional turmoil inside her. "Buffy's body is going to be repairing itself again."

Tasha's expression mirrored the concern that gripped everyone's hearts. Her voice conveyed a mixture of sorrow and hope as she conveyed the news to the crew. "Captain Summers is unconscious. She sustained injuries in the attack," she announced, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "Commander Summers wants you all to know that due to their unique biology, she will live, but she will be unable to command the Enterprise-C for its return trip while her body undergoes necessary repairs."

Enterprise-D Observation Lounge

Emotions ran high as Dawn, Picard, Riker, Castillo, and Tasha gathered around the table, grappling with the weight of the decisions ahead. Dawn's voice was filled with determination and a hint of vulnerability as she spoke, "I'm prepared to lead the Enterprise back myself, Jean Luc."

Tasha, her eyes glistening with concern, stepped in to provide a stark assessment of the challenges they would face. "Sir, Commander Summers and Lieutenant Castillo are, not including Captain Summers, the last senior officers alive," she explained, her voice carrying the weight of their grim reality. "They will have limited support on the bridge, reduced staff in Engineering…"

Castillo, standing by Dawn's side, felt the need to assure the others that they were not alone in this daunting task. "We have good people willing to do their best," he interjected, his voice resolute despite the uncertainty of the situation.

Riker, ever the voice of reason, couldn't help but voice his concerns for the well-being of the ship and its crew. "But certainly, history never meant this ship to be led into battle without…" he started to say, his voice trailing off with a sense of helplessness.

Dawn, determined to stand strong, interrupted him, her voice firm. "Without her captain or her first officer?" she said, acknowledging the reality they faced. "That ship has sailed, Buffy won't be fully healed for at least a day maybe two. Besides, I have command experience. I once held the rank of Captain. Why I was demoted was classified. But I once was First Officer. I know what I am doing, Commander," she asserted, her voice laced with a mixture of pain and resilience.

As the discussion continued, the weight of their situation pressed upon them, and they were all aware of the sacrifices they might have to make. But their sense of duty and loyalty to their fallen captain compelled them forward.

Amidst the intense deliberation, Data's voice broke through the tension over the intercom, grounding them in the present. "Commander Data to Captain Picard," he called out.

Picard's expression was a mix of concern and resolve as he responded to Data's report, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Go ahead," he said, acknowledging the importance of the information they were about to receive.

Data's voice carried a tinge of urgency and worry as he conveyed the unsettling news. "Sir, sensors are showing additional instability in the time rift. Possibly the result of the battle with the Klingons," he reported, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead.

Picard's brows furrowed as he asked, hoping for a glimmer of reassurance amidst the uncertain circumstances, "Any signs of other Klingon vessels?"

"No, sir," Data responded, the answer providing a small measure of relief to the tense atmosphere on the bridge.

Tasha's voice held a sense of urgency as she voiced her concern. "I'm sure our coordinates have been transmitted to the Klingon command… we must not remain here," she stated, aware of the danger they were in and the need to act swiftly.

Picard's gaze shifted to Dawn and Castillo, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and concern for the two brave officers who now stood at the forefront. "We're returning," Dawn asserted with unwavering determination. "You can either support us or not, but we're going."

The weight of responsibility was palpable as Picard inquired, "How soon will your ship be ready?"

Dawn glanced at Castillo; their unspoken connection evident as they navigated this trying situation together. "We sustained moderate damage in the attack," Castillo replied, his voice tinged with concern. "I think we can get underway in a few hours…"

Picard nodded solemnly, understanding the urgency of their mission. He turned to Riker, the unspoken understanding between the long-time friends evident as they shared the burden of command. "We will maintain position to provide cover," he ordered, his voice firm but caring.

Finally, Picard looked back at Dawn, his gaze filled with respect for her strength and determination. "Make it so," he said, bestowing his trust upon her to lead the Enterprise-C back, fully aware of the immense challenges that lay ahead.

Enterprise-D Ten Forward

Guinan stood behind the bar, her expression revealing a mix of surprise and concern as Tasha approached her. "What would you like?" she asked, but there was something in her eyes that hinted at a deeper understanding of Tasha's troubled thoughts.

Tasha's voice was filled with a sense of urgency and desperation as she spoke, "Guinan, I have to know something." Her eyes pleaded for answers as she searched for meaning in the enigmatic bartender's gaze. "What happens to me in the other timeline?"

For a moment, Guinan hesitated, her mind seemingly weighed down by unspoken knowledge. "I don't have alternate biographies of the crew, Tasha," she replied, her voice gentle but tinged with sadness. "With the exception of Dawn, all I have is a feeling..."

Tasha persisted, her heart pounding with curiosity and fear. "But there's something more when you look at me, isn't there?" she questioned, her eyes locked on Guinan's. "I've seen it in your eyes, Guinan. We've known each other too long..."

In response, Guinan met Tasha's gaze with a profound intensity. "We weren't meant to know each other at all," she confessed, leaving Tasha puzzled and intrigued. "Or that's what I sense when I look at you. You're not supposed to be here, Tasha."

Tasha's curiosity only grew, and she couldn't help but press further. "Where am I supposed to be?" she asked, searching for clarity amid the cryptic hints.

Guinan's response was direct, yet laden with sorrow. "Dead," she stated, her voice low but unyielding.

Tasha's heart sank as the weight of those words settled upon her. Memories of what Buffy had mentioned in the captain's ready room resurfaced, and she felt a pang of realization. "She's right," Tasha admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "Captain… Buffy. She said that when everyone else traveled to the past, I was the only one she had never met."

The gravity of the revelation weighed heavily on both of them. Tasha turned to Guinan, seeking any semblance of an explanation. "Do you know how?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and fear.

Guinan shook her head, her eyes reflecting a deep understanding of the situation. "No," she responded softly. After a moment, she continued, her voice filled with empathy. "But I know that it was an empty death. A death without purpose."

Ready Room

Picard's face registered a mix of curiosity and concern as he looked up from his work. "Come," he invited, expecting perhaps a routine update or inquiry.

As the door slid open, Tasha stepped in, her emotions evident in the way she carried herself. "Yes, Lieutenant," Picard greeted her, meeting her gaze with a sense of familiarity and respect.

Then, Tasha uttered the unexpected request, catching Picard off guard. "Captain, I request a transfer to the Enterprise-C," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of determination and sadness.

Picard's eyes narrowed slightly, his concern deepening. "For what reason?" he inquired, genuinely wanting to understand the motivation behind her decision.

"They need someone at Tactical," Tasha replied, her voice carrying a sense of duty and loyalty toward her former crewmates.

Picard shook his head gently, a fatherly instinct to protect his crew evident in his response. "They have someone," he insisted, believing she was indispensable to the Enterprise-D.

But Tasha's conviction remained steadfast. "Sir, I don't belong here," she admitted with a hint of sorrow in her voice, as if struggling with her place on the Enterprise-D.

Picard's surprise was evident as he looked at her, his gaze searching for the underlying reasons behind her feelings. He gestured for her to take a seat across from him, inviting her to share her thoughts more openly. "Sit down," he said softly, giving her the space to express herself.

Her eyes locked with Picard's; Tasha revealed the internal struggle she had been facing. "What did she tell you?" she asked, her voice laden with emotions.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Tasha admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she carried the weight of an unspoken destiny.

Picard was deeply affected by the revelation, his usually composed demeanor shaken by the weight of Tasha's words. "She felt it was necessary to disclose this to you?" he asked, his astonishment evident.

But Tasha corrected him, her voice steady but tinged with a sense of responsibility, "I felt it was necessary." The gravity of her choice hung in the air, and Picard could sense the heavy burden she carried.

"I see," Picard replied, his mind grappling with the implications of her decision. "You realize that it is very possible that the Enterprise-C could fail. We may be forced to remain in this timeline... in which case your life would go on, hopefully for a long while."

Tasha met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a sense of determination and purpose. "I know how important it is that they don't fail, Captain," she said resolutely. "That's why I'm requesting this transfer."

Concern for her well-being colored Picard's response as he tried to dissuade her. "Lieutenant, you don't belong on that ship..." he stated, unable to imagine her putting herself in such danger.

Tasha agreed, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "No," she acknowledged. "Captain Garrett belongs on that ship. But she's dead, and Captain Summers is incapacitated while her body heals itself. There's a certain logic in this request."

Picard's mind raced as he weighed the consequences, realizing the nobility of her intentions but also the risks involved. "There's no logic in it at all," he countered, his heart aching at the thought of losing one of his valued officers. "Tasha, whether they succeed or not, the Enterprise-C will be destroyed with only Buffy and Dawn due to their unique biology the only survivors as they drift in space in a perpetual cycle of death until the end of the Millennium."

Tasha, however, remained resolute, explaining her reasoning with unwavering determination. "At least, with an actual tactical officer on board instead of someone filling in, they will have a chance to defend themselves well, Captain," she argued passionately. "It may be a matter of seconds or minutes... but those could be the minutes that change history..."

The weight of her words settled upon Picard as he considered the sacrifice, she was willing to make. He took a long look at her, a mix of admiration and concern in his eyes. "Lieutenant..." he began, his voice full of emotion.

But Tasha's response was unwavering, her commitment unshaken. "Guinan says I died a senseless death in the other timeline. I didn't like the sound of that, sir," she confessed, her voice quivering with a mixture of fear and determination. "I've always known the risks that come with a Starfleet uniform. If I am to die in one, I'd like my death to count for something."

Picard's heart went out to her, realizing the depth of her conviction and her willingness to make a difference, no matter the cost. "Permission granted," he said, his voice tinged with respect and sorrow.

"Thank you, sir," Tasha replied, her gratitude evident as she rose from her seat. The weight of her decision was both daunting and empowering, but she knew in her heart that she was doing what she believed was right.

Enterprise-C Bridge

Dawn sat in the command chair, her eyes filled with determination and a touch of weariness. "I'm showing phaser banks up to seventy percent efficiency... we've got an hour left... see if you can get them up to ninety," she commanded, her voice projecting authority and resolve.

"Aye, sir," Castillo replied promptly, his determination mirrored in his actions as he set to work on the phaser banks.

"Okay, I will have conn," Dawn continued, her focus on managing the critical systems. "Castillo, you have ops."

As the tension of the situation thickened, Tasha stepped onto the bridge, her presence surprising Castillo. His eyes widened with astonishment as he saw her there. "I'll handle Tactical," she said. "Lieutenant Tasha Yar reporting for duty, sir."

"You're not part of our crew," Dawn pointed out, a mix of confusion and concern in her voice.

Tasha's response was unwavering, her emotions hidden behind a veil of professionalism. "I am now. Captain Picard approved my request for transfer," she informed them, showing her dedication to her decision.

Sensing that something was amiss, Castillo pulled Tasha to the side, his concern evident. "This isn't a joke, Tasha. We're going back into the rift – into battle - and we're not coming back," he reminded her, trying to impress the gravity of their mission upon her.

Tasha's response was composed, yet firm, revealing her unwavering commitment. "I know the mission," she assured him. "These are my orders, Lieutenant."

"But I don't want you here," Castillo admitted, his emotions laid bare.

Tasha met his gaze with a sense of understanding, her voice soft but resolute. "But you need me," she said, acknowledging the importance of her role in this critical endeavor. She turned to look at Dawn, her expression unyielding. "Do you have anyone on your crew that can do the job better than I can?"

Dawn glanced at Castillo, realizing the truth in Tasha's words. "She's right. We don't. Buffy would have been the only person qualified. And as long as she is incapacitated, we have no one."

Castillo looked at Tasha with a newfound appreciation, recognizing her skills and dedication. "Welcome aboard," he said, his voice filled with gratitude, though spoken quietly.

"Take your station, Lieutenant," Dawn ordered, recognizing the need for efficiency in this critical moment.

Tasha moved to the tactical station with a sense of purpose, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. "Aye, sir," she replied, her emotions now focused solely on the mission at hand.

Enterprise-D Bridge

Picard's eyes were fixed on the image of the Enterprise-C displayed on the viewscreen; his thoughts undoubtedly filled with a mix of emotions. Riker stood at the aft console, his expression serious and focused, while Data sat at Ops, his android features betraying no emotion. Wesley manned the Conn with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.

As the turbolift doors opened, Tasha emerged, her eyes briefly meeting Picard's before delivering the news. "We've finished the transfer of equipment, Captain," she reported, her voice steady but laden with an underlying sense of urgency. "The new converters should be able to compensate for the damaged units on the Enterprise-C."

Picard nodded, recognizing the importance of their efforts to aid the other ship. Rising to his feet, he approached the group, with Riker taking a step closer and Wesley and Data turning their attention to Tasha.

Picard cleared his throat, seeking to break the tension, but before he could speak, a sound from the Ops panel drew their attention. Wesley's voice quivered slightly as he relayed the alarming news. "Long-range scans have picked up Klingon battlecruisers, Captain," he said, his voice reflecting the gravity of the situation. "They are on an intercept course."

Time was short, and the reality of their mission sank in. There was no time for sentimental goodbyes or final words. As the urgency intensified, Picard gave the command, "Red Alert. All hands to battle stations," and the familiar klaxon echoed through the ship, signaling the imminent danger they faced.

Facing Tasha, Picard's gaze held a mixture of respect and concern. "I'm on my way, sir," Tasha assured him, her voice resolute as she prepared to face the coming battle. "Good-bye, Captain," she said, her tone carrying a sense of finality.

"Good-bye, Lieutenant," Picard replied, his voice carrying a tinge of sadness as he watched her leave the bridge.

Tasha took a moment to look around the bridge, finding Wesley's halfhearted smile, which she returned with a nod. She hesitated briefly, her hand reaching out to touch the Tactical station, a silent farewell to her post and her ship, before stepping into the turbolift.

Enterprise-C Bridge

As the klaxons blared, Tasha stepped onto the bridge, her heart racing in sync with the urgency of the situation. "Damage control teams have all returned to the Enterprise-D... Captain," she informed Dawn, her voice carrying a sense of readiness despite the gravity of the moment.

Dawn's smile held a mixture of pride and determination, her eyes reflecting the weight of her responsibilities as she embraced the title of "Captain" once again. Her voice was laced with concern as she called Sickbay, seeking reassurance about her wife. "Bridge to Sickbay. How is my wife doing?" she inquired, her emotions entwined with the fate of her loved ones.

Buffy's response came through, carrying a hint of strength and determination. "I'm doing fine, Dawnie. Just get us home," she assured, her words echoing through the ship, instilling a sense of resolve in everyone present.

Dawn's nod was filled with a sense of determination and love. "Intending to," she replied, her voice resolute as she prepared to lead her crew through this critical moment.

Tasha moved to the tactical station, her focus on the task at hand. "Raise shields," Dawn commanded, her voice steady, aware of the peril they were facing.

Tasha's response was swift, her hands moving deftly across the console. "Shields up. Charging weapon systems," she reported, her emotions masked beneath her professional exterior.

As the viewscreen displayed the image of the Enterprise-D, the bridge crew couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and concern for their sister ship. "Good luck, Enterprise," Castillo whispered quietly, his voice tinged with reverence.

Tasha glanced up at the viewscreen, her heart heavy with a sense of longing. She looked at her ship, her friends, about to make their final stand without her. The emotions within her were a tumultuous mix of pride, sorrow, and a deep sense of responsibility.

Dawn, ever attuned to the feelings of those around her, sensed the weight of Tasha's emotions and turned to her with concern. "Are you okay, Tasha?" she asked, her empathic ability picking up on the unspoken turmoil within the tactical officer.

Tasha didn't respond with words, but her nod spoke volumes.

Enterprise-D Bridge

As the tension mounted on the bridge, the weight of their imminent confrontation with the Klingons bore heavily on each crew member. Riker's question hung in the air, seeking the critical information that could determine their fate. "Number and type of ships, Mister Crusher?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and determination.

Wesley's response was somber, his youthful face betraying the gravity of the situation. "Three K'vort class battlecruisers," he replied, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Riker's eyes flickered with worry as he looked at Picard. "Not bothering to cloak themselves."

"They shouldn't be so confident... after the pasting we gave them at Archer Four," Picard stated, his voice carrying a mix of reminiscence and calculation as he studied the tactical display, trying to assess their odds against the formidable enemy.

As the tension mounted on the bridge, the weight of their imminent confrontation with the Klingons bore heavily on each crew member. Riker's question hung in the air, seeking the critical information that could determine their fate. "Number and type of ships, Mister Crusher?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and determination.

Wesley's response was somber, his youthful face betraying the gravity of the situation. "Three K'vort class battlecruisers," he replied, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Riker's eyes flickered with worry as he looked at Picard, the unspoken fear evident in their shared glance. The Klingons' lack of cloaking was a show of confidence, but it also signaled the ferocity of the impending battle. "They shouldn't be so confident... after the pasting we gave them at Archer Four," Picard stated, his voice carrying a mix of reminiscence and calculation as he studied the tactical display, trying to assess their odds against the formidable enemy.

The reality of their situation weighed heavily on Riker's shoulders, and he spoke in hushed tones. "We won't last long against that many," he acknowledged, his emotions laid bare.

Picard nodded solemnly, aware of the harsh truth they faced. A silent moment passed between them, a wordless understanding of the sacrifices that might lie ahead. The captain rose from his chair, his commanding presence filling the bridge as he addressed his crew with resolute determination.

"We could, of course, outrun the Klingons," Picard began, acknowledging the potential escape route, but then his focus shifted to their greater purpose. "But we must protect the Enterprise-C until she can enter the temporal rift. We may not survive... but we must succeed..." His voice carried a note of unwavering resolve as he delivered his final command. "Let's make sure history doesn't forget the name Enterprise."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

The ship shuddered under the force of the Klingon's relentless attack, causing hearts to race and hands to grip tightly to their stations. "Shields holding," Data's calm voice rang out amidst the chaos, the crew finding comfort in his unwavering demeanor even in the face of danger.

"Hold your fire. Mister Crusher, come about to one-four-eight mark zero-zero-three, on my command," Picard instructed, his voice steady and composed despite the turmoil surrounding them. The crew trusted in their captain, finding strength in his leadership.

"Aye, sir," Wesley replied, his hands steady on the controls, ready to execute the maneuver with precision.

"Ready photon torpedoes. Dispersal pattern: Sierra," Riker ordered, his voice firm as he prepared the ship for a decisive strike.

"Ready... and... now!" Picard commanded, his voice carrying a mix of determination and urgency. The Enterprise unleashed its photon torpedoes, and the bridge crew held their breaths, waiting for the impact.

"One enemy target hit, sir," Data reported, the tension easing slightly as a sense of accomplishment settled over them. "Moderate damage to their forward shields."

But the respite was short-lived as another Klingon shot struck the ship, jolting them back into reality. "Our shields still holding," Data assured them, providing a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. "Minor damage to secondary hull."

"Course one-seven-zero, mark zero-one-four," Riker called out, a strategic plan forming in his mind.

"One ship has broken off and is heading toward the Enterprise-C," Wesley reported, the gravity of the situation intensifying. The crew felt the weight of the moment, the critical decision that had to be made.

Picard knew what he had to do; the choice clear in his mind. "Mister Crusher, belay previous course change... keep us within two hundred kilometers of the Enterprise-C," he declared, his voice carrying a sense of conviction and determination. They couldn't let their sister ship face the onslaught alone.

The ship trembled under the relentless barrage of Klingon attacks, each hit sending shockwaves of fear and tension through the bridge. Riker's hands moved swiftly across the Tactical console, issuing urgent orders to the damage control teams while Geordi's voice crackled over the intercom, his concern palpable as he battled to repair the damaged systems.

"Damage control teams to deck fourteen," Riker called out, his voice tense as he tried to coordinate the response to the unfolding crisis.

"Engineering to bridge," Geordi's voice echoed through the bridge, his determination evident even amidst the chaos. "Starboard power coupling is down. Containment field generator three is damaged - attempting to bypass."

The weight of the situation was heavy on Riker's shoulders. "If we lose anti-matter containment…"

Picard's somber nod acknowledged the severity of the situation. "Acknowledged, Engineer."

As the Klingons continued their assault, Wesley's voice rang out, his young face etched with concern. "The Klingons are flanking us... trying to draw us away from the Enterprise-C," he informed them, the sense of urgency in his voice reflecting the critical nature of their mission.

"Hold your course," Picard commanded with unwavering determination, refusing to be swayed by the enemy's tactics. "Continual fire, all phasers."

Wesley worked tirelessly at his console, his hands gripping the helm controls as he fought to maintain control of the ship amidst the onslaught. But another fierce hit sent tremors of instability through the bridge, making his task even more challenging.

"One enemy target destroyed," Data reported, his voice a rare glimmer of relief amidst the chaos. But the moment of respite was short-lived as the Klingons relentlessly pounded the Enterprise, sending shockwaves of damage and chaos through the ship.

Picard's voice cut through the chaos. "Damage Report!"

Riker's response was laced with the heaviness of the casualties and the critical damage to the ship. "Heavy casualties in the secondary hull. Navigational sensor array inoperative," he relayed, his voice filled with a sense of sorrow and responsibility.

The situation was dire, with Geordi's voice ringing over the intercom. "Anti-matter containment fields failing... if I can't stabilize them, we'll have to eject the reactor core or she'll blow..."

"Shields buckling, Captain," Data warned, his voice tinged with urgency and concern. "They will not-" His words were cut off as another violent hit rocked the bridge, leaving the crew bracing themselves against the onslaught.

The tension on the bridge was palpable as Geordi's urgent voice echoed through the intercom, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. "Coolant leak! Bridge, we have a coolant leak in the engine core! I can't shut it down – estimate two minutes to warp core breach..." His distress was evident, and the crew felt a surge of anxiety at the prospect of a catastrophic failure that could spell the end for them all.

The ship shuddered again under the relentless assault from the Klingons, adding to the sense of urgency and impending doom. The crew fought to maintain their composure, but fear and concern were etched on their faces as they wrestled with the gravity of the situation.

Amidst the chaos, Picard's voice remained steady, his resolve unyielding. "How long until the Enterprise-C enters the rift?" he asked, his eyes fixed on Data, seeking any glimmer of hope in their desperate circumstances.

"Fifty-two seconds," Data replied, his expression a mix of calculation and concern. The seconds ticked away, each one feeling like an eternity as they anxiously awaited the critical moment.

The bridge was a flurry of frantic activity as the crew scrambled to hold on against the relentless Klingon assault. Picard's voice cut through the chaos; his command unwavering despite the dire circumstances. "All remaining power to defense systems," he ordered, his voice carrying a mix of determination and desperation as they fought to keep the ship from crumbling under the onslaught.

Data's fingers danced across his console, trying to regain control of the damaged phaser banks. His expression was a mix of focus and frustration as he struggled to bypass the severed power couplings. "Controls not responding," he reported, the weight of the situation evident in his every movement.

The ship quivered again, another Klingon strike sending shockwaves through the Enterprise. The tension was thick in the air as the crew braced themselves against the violent impact. A sudden explosion at the Tactical console sent Riker hurtling backward, and the sight of their comrade being thrown only heightened the sense of peril that surrounded them.

Picard's face was a mask of grim resolve, knowing that the odds were stacked against them. He looked around the bridge, a sense of resignation in his eyes. They had fought valiantly, but this might be the end of their journey, and he couldn't help but feel the weight of the lives entrusted to his care.

In the midst of the chaos, a menacing Klingon voice boomed over the speakers, demanding their surrender. The defiance in Picard's eyes was unwavering as he glared at the viewscreen, a man prepared to meet his fate with courage and defiance. "Like hell," he uttered softly but resolutely, his hand moving with swift determination as he fired the phasers, refusing to give in to their enemies.

The Klingon ships pressed in, tightening the noose around the Enterprise-D. Their relentless barrage continued, the bridge crew fighting to protect the ship with everything they had left. The tension was palpable, emotions running high as they faced the inevitability of their demise.

With a burst of brilliant light, the Enterprise-C vanished, disappearing into the depths of time, carrying with it the hope of a future free of war.

There was suddenly a flash of light and everything reverted back to just before the Enterprise-C's arrival. Troi, Buffy and Worf are all back where they belonged.

"Report, Lieutenant," Picard commanded, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern as he turned to Worf, seeking an explanation for the strange occurrence they had just witnessed.

Worf's brow furrowed with a mix of confusion and determination. "Readings fluctuated momentarily, Captain. It appeared to be a ship, but then it vanished," he replied, his instinct for duty not allowing any hint of surprise to break through his professional facade.

"The rift is closing in on itself, Captain," Data interjected, his tone displaying a mix of fascination and respect for the scientific anomaly they had just witnessed.

Picard took in the information calmly, a master of composure even in the face of the unknown. He weighed their options carefully, knowing that the moment was critical and that the closure of the rift marked the end of an enigmatic chapter.

"Very well. Prepare a class-one sensor probe. We'll leave it behind to monitor the final closure," Picard ordered, his mind focused on gathering any last scraps of information before the rift's closure.

Then, Buffy, with a sense of quiet determination, made a suggestion that held the promise of answers and resolution. "When you have a free moment, Captain," she began, "I think Dawn and I can give more answers than the probe."

Picard nodded, appreciating the opportunity for clarity. "Lay in a course for Archer Four," he instructed, his voice resolute as they moved forward. "Then, when yours and your wife's duties permit, see me in my Ready Room."

Ready Room

Picard's usually composed demeanor was tinged with curiosity and a touch of concern as he looked up from his files to greet the unexpected visitors. "Come," he beckoned, granting them entry to his ready room.

Buffy and Dawn stepped in, their expressions a mixture of gravity and determination. Riker followed closely behind, intrigued by the unfolding story. "We can tell you exactly what just transpired," Buffy began, her voice carrying a sense of purpose and weight. "For Dawn and I were part of it."

The room fell silent as Picard listened intently, his keen mind already absorbing the significance of their statement.

Riker's eyebrows raised in intrigue. "How so?"

"The rift," Dawn continued, her voice steady despite the complex nature of the revelation, "was temporal in nature. For a period of time, the Enterprise-C was transported forward in time into a timeline where the Federation and the Klingons were at war. The battle of Narendra Three was crucial to the lasting peace we have had with the Klingons."

Picard's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed the information. The temporal nature of the rift and the significance of the Enterprise-C's involvement in shaping history weighed heavily on his mind.

"If you were on the Enterprise-C," Riker asked, his curiosity evident, "how are you here?"

Buffy's gaze softened, the memory of the past resurfacing. "When she was destroyed by the Romulans," she replied, "all hands except me and Dawn had evacuated the ship. We went down with her. With its destruction, we were thrown into space. And believe me when I say you don't want to live through that; it's not fun. Anyways, we were eventually picked up by a Klingon ship, which had somehow detected our life signs amongst the debris. We were beamed aboard as a curiosity. We were revived and eventually sent back to Earth after being given commendations by the Klingons."

Dawn chimed in, her voice filled with quiet pride and a hint of melancholy. "The peace Spock ushered in with the destruction of Praxis was made permanent because of me, Buffy, and the Enterprise-C's legacy at Narendra Three."

Picard gazed out of the window, his mind absorbing the gravity of their experiences and the impact they had on history. He turned back to Buffy and Dawn, seeing not just capable officers, but also friends and comrades. Their journey had been fraught with challenges, but it had also given them a unique perspective on the complexities of time and its far-reaching consequences.

"I look forward to seeing your full report," Picard told them, his voice carrying respect and admiration for the young officers who had faced the trials of time and emerged stronger for it.

2344

In the cold void of space, Buffy and Dawn floated helplessly, their bodies weightless amidst the debris of the destroyed Enterprise-C. The remnants of their once-proud starship surrounded them, a haunting reminder of the battle they had fought and lost.

Their uniforms torn and scorched, they clung to each other for comfort and support. The silence of space enveloped them, broken only by the faint sounds of their labored breathing through their damaged environmental suits.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they waited, hoping against hope for a miracle. And then, suddenly, a flicker of light caught their eye. A Klingon ship, its dark hull contrasting against the vastness of space, had detected their life signs amongst the wreckage.

As the Klingon ship drew closer, a sense of uncertainty and trepidation washed over them. They had faced Klingons in battle before, and their experiences had not always been pleasant. Yet, at this moment, the sight of the Klingon vessel brought a glimmer of hope – a chance for rescue.

A bright beam of light engulfed them, and they felt themselves being transported aboard the Klingon ship.