Picard could only shrug. "He was also three-quarters of a century out of his own time. His friends and family were almost certainly all dead, and everything he knew about engineering was seventy-five years obsolete. And it's not as if he hadn't done it before. Don't forget he was along when Kirk brought those two whales from the twentieth century."

"And saved Earth," Riker said, frowning. "You're saying this time he was planning to risk Earth, risk upsetting the entire timestream just to save one person?"

"There's no point in arguing the wisdom of his action, Number One. Nor of ours when we followed him. We can't take either of them back. What we can do-all we can do for now-is try to find out where and when he actually went and what he did that resulted in the timestream we find ourselves in. And then work from there."

Picard paused, looking around the bridge, his eyes lingering momentarily on Guinan, who, in a most uncharacteristic act, lowered her eyes. "To that end," he went on, "I'm open to any and all ideas. For a start, can we take it as a given that Mr. Scott overshot his intended destination and went further into the past than he intended?"

Riker nodded. "Based on what Mr. Worf's not hearing in subs.p.a.ce, I'd say we have to. Either that or he purposely made a second jump. Nothing he could have done here and now-or even a few weeks ago-could silence every starfaring race in this sector."

Picard nodded. "Mr. Data, is it possible for Mr. Scott to have overshot by not just years but decades? Even centuries?"

"It would be highly unlikely, Captain, but not impossible if something catastrophic occurred during the jump itself."

"Just how catastrophic?" Picard asked impatiently when Data paused for a moment.

"For example," Data continued, "anything that could cause his ship to unexpectedly gain a great deal of velocity or lose a great deal of ma.s.s. A change in either of those parameters would drastically alter his trajectory and- "

"And essentially destroy the ship and kill Mr. Scott. Is there anything survivable that could have thrown him that far off target?"

"Nothing that I have been able to hypothesize, Captain. However, neither Mr. Scott nor the ship would have to survive in order for the timestream to be affected. If something happened during the jump, whatever was left of the ship would complete the jump. And whatever was happening to the ship would continue happening wherever and whenever it emerged."

Picard's stomach knotted. "You're saying that if, say, a warp core breach or an antimatter containment field breakdown was somehow initiated during the maneuver, the explosions could happen after it was completed? When it emerged into normal s.p.a.ce?"

"Given the right timing, Captain, that is entirely possible."

Picard was silent for a long moment, his eyes on the familiar starfield on the viewscreen. Finally he looked back at Data.

"At least it gives us a place to start," he said. "Mr. Data, access all records of the Arhennius system."

As he waited for the results, he pulled in a deep breath and reached for the control that could send his voice to every corner of the Enterprise. He had a responsibility-a duty-to fulfill, and he had already put it off too long. Beyond the bridge, there were nearly a thousand crew members who still thought they were in a universe and a time that made sense.

Steeling himself, he lightly touched the control. "This is the captain," he said quickly, not giving himself time to have second thoughts, and then went on to explain as succinctly as possible what had happened and where he had, without their knowledge or consent, taken them.

There were no interruptions, only a pall-like silence as his voice echoed throughout the ship. Gradually, his face regained the color it had lost when the truth of their situation had first fully penetrated his consciousness.

When he finished, the silence was total, but after a few seconds voices began to emerge from the intra-ship comm system. No protests, no recriminations, only words of acceptance if not support. They had faced death with him any number of times, often in corners of the universe so remote they might as well have been in another time, and few had ever complained. They had known what they were signing up for when they had entered the Academy and even more so when they had signed on to the latest starship to carry the notorious Enterprise name. They weren't about to desert either Starfleet or their captain now.

Even so, Picard couldn't help but wonder if he himself had overreached.

And if that other captain of the Enterprise, who was unknowingly the cause of the current disastrous state of affairs, would be appalled at what he had "inspired" Captain Scott to do.

Or gratified.

Scotty's plan had been simplicity itself.

He would find the Enterprise-B, uncloak just long enough to transport the captain into the Bounty 2, and then return with him to the "present" via a second slingshot trajectory, already calculated. In the chaos surrounding the energy ribbon as it destroyed both the Lakul and the Robert Fox and almost destroyed the Enterprise-B, he would never be noticed during the brief time he was uncloaked. And during the journey itself, the improvements he had made to the Bounty 2's cloaking mechanism would insure that no twenty-third-century sensors would get so much as a whiff of him.

And nothing would change.

That was the beauty of it, and the only reason he had gone ahead with it. As far as the universe of 2293 was concerned, Kirk would still have died while saving the Enterprise. The fact that, instead, he would be taken to 2370, could not possibly have any effect on the intervening decades.

That had been the plan, simple and straightforward.

Until, despite his round-the-clock monitoring of every aspect of the Bounty 2's drive systems, Scotty found himself with time to simply think-and worry-about what could go wrong.

Grudgingly, he began to realize that, under the spell of an enthusiasm that had bordered on obsession, he had ignored-or at least rationalized away-many of the dangers that a mission through time entailed. Particularly a mission to a time in which the Khitomer Accords were only a few months old, a time when many in both the Federation and the Klingon Empire were still desperate for the Accords to fail.

A time when Admiral Cartwright, whose traitorous actions had come within a whisker of sparking a new war, was still seen by some as a hero.

Reports of even a glimpse of a Klingon bird-of-prey uncloaking within a pa.r.s.ec of Earth-reports that would almost certainly be confirmed when the Enterprise-B's sensor records were later examined-would be just what the Accord's diehard enemies wanted.

Anything could happen, including the war that Cartwright and his co-conspirators on both sides of the Klingon border had failed to ignite. Millions of lives would be lost.

That kind of chance, he belatedly realized, he simply could not take.

But neither could he bring himself to abandon Jim Kirk less than two days from his death.

In the end, after hours of agonizing, when it became clear he would reach his destination with more than an hour to spare, he swallowed hard and decided on a compromise.

He left the cloaked Bounty 2 in the redundant concealment of a convenient pocket nebula, confirmed one last time that the G.o.ddard's jiggered sensors could indeed locate the cloaked ship, and continued the last few hours in the shuttlecraft. The G.o.ddard, incapable of being cloaked, was more likely to be spotted than the Bounty 2, but with everything else that would be going on, it was still unlikely. And even if it were noticed, little attention would be paid to it since, despite its advanced technology, it was obviously a Federation craft, not Klingon. Even if the Enterprise sensor records were later examined, its presence would be a puzzle, not a provocation.

It would be filed away with other puzzles, not used by zealots as a pretext to break the Accords and start a new war with the Klingons. Time would heal itself of any minor wounds incurred in 2293, and the universe of 2370 would remain the universe of 2370.

The only difference would be that Jim Kirk would be there.

Alive.

Nine.

THE HISTORY of the original timeline's Arhennius system, as sketchily outlined in the Enterprise computer records, provided no clues. Federation ships had scanned it at a distance for life signs and for habitable worlds, but all they found were two gas giants about the size of Saturn and two airless b.a.l.l.s of rock a little smaller than Venus. There was no record of any ship-Federation or Romulan or Klingon-ever having entered the system itself. Therefore, Scott's bird-of-prey could have emerged at virtually any moment in the past two hundred years and undergone the most violent destruction possible, and it would have produced nothing more than a short-lived flare that wouldn't have been visible even to the most powerful telescopes in neighboring systems. The only time it would have even been noticed was during the few hours the Arhennius system was being scanned by long range sensors from almost a pa.r.s.ec away.

In any event, the Enterprise sensors had as yet found no indication that any such explosion had ever taken place in the Arhennius system, not in the last hundred years, not in the last million, although there was evidence of a half dozen low-yield photon torpedoes approximately a century ago.

"So," Picard said as the negative results of the scans continued to stream across the bottom of the viewscreen, "if he didn't accidentally overshoot catastrophically, what did he do?"

"There is one possibility, Captain," Riker volunteered. "Perhaps instead of overshooting, he undershot and had to make a second jump, and that's when he overshot, not because of something catastrophic but because of a mistake. Maybe his bird-of-prey was spotted by a Federation ship and he had to get out of there fast. Maybe he didn't have time to make all the calculations, maybe he missed the trajectory he was aiming for. He could've ended up anywhere-anywhen- alive and well. And if that's what happened, Captain, if he undershot, then he hasn't arrived yet. Perhaps we could do what you suggested earlier-just wait here for him to show up and beam him out before he has a chance to make a second jump."

Picard shook his head. "I doubt it, Number One. Even if everything you say is true, it wouldn't work. The timeline we are now in is almost certainly the timeline created by Captain Scott's interference decades or centuries in the past, no matter how or why he arrived there. It is not the timeline that Captain Scott would have emerged into at the completion of a first jump that fell short. He would have emerged into the original 2293, the one we are all familiar with, not into this one."

"That is essentially correct, Commander," Data said when Riker looked at the android questioningly. "Whether the original timeline still exists somewhere is debatable, but even if it does exist, we almost certainly cannot access it."

"'Almost' certainly?" Picard asked. "Tell us more, Mr. Data."

Data turned his attention briefly to a different set of readouts before answering. "It is perhaps significant that, ever since we arrived, there has been a ma.s.sive amount of chronometric radiation permeating all s.p.a.ce within sensor range."

"More than can have been generated by the arrival of a ship from three quarters of a century in this universe's future?" Riker wondered.

"There are no records of similar situations with which we could compare readings," Data said. "However, basic chronometric theory suggests that any such radiation triggered by the arrival of a chronologically alien object would be quickly damped out in a stable timeline, as would radiation triggered by any changes caused by the object."

"Which means what, Mr. Data?" Picard asked. "That we are seriously altering the timeline just by being here? Or that if Mr. Scott survived-either an overshoot or a second jump-he is still out there, still making changes?"

"Either is possible, Captain. Basic theory, however, suggests that a level of radiation this high and this steady is more likely the result of an earlier disruption so great that the timestream was rendered incapable of stabilizing itself and therefore continues to generate high levels of chronometric radiation."

"Or perhaps," Worf broke in, a touch of annoyance in his rumbling ba.s.s, "your theory is simply wrong."

"That is of course possible," Data conceded, unperturbed. "The theory should be considered tentative at best since it contains a number of unproven a.s.sumptions and has never to my knowledge been tested in a real-world situation, certainly never one of this complexity."

Riker snorted, almost laughing. "So what you're really saying is, you don't have a clue."

"Quite the opposite, Commander. In a sense, clues are all we do have. In theory, the level of chronometric radiation could be considered a.n.a.logous to the ripples generated when a rock is thrown into a river. If the rock is large enough, it could even send the river over its banks or block it altogether. The radiation is believed to be directly-some say exponentially-proportional to the size and force of the 'chronological rock' thrown into the timestream. It could also be seen as a measure of the timeline's instability."

Picard nodded. "According to that theory, then, this timeline is highly unstable. Are you suggesting it is so unstable it might self-destruct? And do what? Allow the original timeline to restore itself?"

"Theory does allow for that possibility. However- "

Data broke off, his attention returning abruptly to the scan results still streaming across the viewscreen.

"There was an explosion?" Riker asked sharply.

"No indication as yet, Commander. The sensors have, however, detected traces of dilithium ore in the system's innermost planet. There are also indications of mining operations approximately one hundred years ago, which is also approximately the time at which the low-yield photon torpedo detonations occurred."

Picard frowned. "But the Federation never found dilithium here."

"That is perhaps because the Arhennius system was never closely examined. The dilithium deposits are beneath several kilometers of rock, undetectable by Federation sensors of that time unless the scans were done from low orbit. And records indicate that when long-range scans found no possibility of life of any kind, the Federation never actually sent a ship into the system."

"But in this timeline they did-someone did," Picard said. "Ensign Raeger, set a course for the planet in question, full impulse."

As the ensign complied, Picard turned toward Guinan, still seated in Troi's place. Though she had seemed to listen intently to every word the others had said since they had arrived in this time, she had spoken not a word herself.

"Guinan?"

Again she displayed uncharacteristic behavior by averting her eyes as she replied. "Yes, Captain?"

"You still have no... feelings as to what we should do? Or not do?"

"My feelings are irrelevant. You must do as you see fit."

"Your feelings are one of the major reasons we are here, Guinan," Picard said, unable to entirely suppress a brief flash of annoyance. "I don't recall your being at all reluctant when you asked-when you demanded that I trust those feelings, that I trust you, and follow Captain Scott through time."

She turned from the viewscreen to face him. As she looked up at him, she seemed more fragile than he had ever seen her. Instead of looking regal in her floor-length gown and the distinctive circular headgear that normally gave the impression of a crown, she looked small and beaten down.

Most of all, and most uncharacteristically, she looked uncertain.

"I'm sorry, Captain, I truly am, but nothing I say at this point could be trusted."

"d.a.m.n it, Guinan- " Picard began but cut himself off as she turned and hurried past him to the turbolift, her shoulders hunched as if to ward off invisible blows.

Anger flared through him for a moment but vanished as quickly as it had come when he remembered the state she had been in when she had urged him to follow Captain Scott. She was at least as lost as he. And it had been his decision, not hers, that had brought them here. She had urged, virtually demanded, but he had made the decision. She could in no way be blamed for what either Captain Scott or he himself had done.

Staring after her, he wondered darkly what could have had such an astonishing effect on her. Other than Data, no one he knew seemed so completely unflappable as Guinan. Even when faced by a creature like Q, she had not allowed herself to be intimidated. But now she was- "An energy field is forming around the Enterprise," Data announced.

"Shields to maximum," Picard snapped, but even as he spoke, even as Worf brought the shields to one hundred percent, the viewscreen filled with a soft glow. At the same time, a sharp tingling like static electricity enveloped Picard's entire body, inside and out. Riker grimaced, lurching to his feet next to Picard. Even Worf winced.

And the air within the bridge began to sparkle. Obviously the shields were having no effect.

For an instant, Picard thought Q was about to make another of his spectacular entrances, but this was different. Q put on visual pyrotechnics, but his arrivals had never been accompanied by physical sensations like these.

The p.r.i.c.kling quickly turned into outright pain, as if he were being struck by thousands of tiny lightning bolts. Every attempt to move only intensified it. The sparkling haze itself grew brighter, denser, a thickening fiery fog.

"Engage, maximum warp!" It was all he could do to issue the command. The words felt as if they were liquid flame, searing his mouth and throat as he forced them out.

At the helm, where the haze seemed even more intense, Ensign Raeger struggled to comply, her face contorted, her hands twitching spasmodically as they reached for the controls. Data turned toward her as she collapsed face down on the control panel, but his own effort to reach the controls failed as he twitched and went limp, a ma.s.s of sparks cl.u.s.tering around him as if attracted by the circuits he had in place of flesh and blood.

Picard and Riker lurched toward the controls through air that was still growing thicker with the crackling sparks every instant. Riker's body stiffened, every muscle frozen as he pa.s.sed through a particularly dense patch. Like an axed tree, he toppled and hit the deck with a thud.

Picard, not fully enveloped by the patch that had felled Riker, lurched one last step toward the helm, tripped over Riker's outstretched arm and fell onto the still-twitching backs of Data and Raeger. The control panel, only inches from his face, was almost completely obscured by the intervening cloud of sparks, but he still managed, before the twitching of his own muscles turned to total paralysis, to hit the control that sent the ship lurching ahead on impulse power.

The air on the bridge cleared, the energy field and its effects vanishing even more quickly than they had come.

Picard and Riker gasped and lurched to their feet while Raeger jerked upright in her seat. Behind them, Worf still stood stiffly erect, but only because his ma.s.sive hands had an unbreakable grip on the edges of the tactical station control panel.

Data's twitching ceased, but he remained motionless, still face down on the control panel.

Picard levered the dead weight of the android aside and hit the controls that switched the viewscreen to an aft view.

The image switched just in time for him to see a jagged oval filled with what looked like lightning bolts crackling in all directions while the entire display seemed to whirl like a nucleonic pinwheel.

And it was moving with them, following them.

Overtaking them!

"Maximum warp, Ensign!" he grated, his throat still raw from his last attempt to speak.

Wordlessly, Raeger complied, and the Enterprise began to pull away, even as the violence of the display continued to increase to what would have been a blinding level to the naked eye.

Suddenly, the display went through a final spasm, not spinning but giving the illusion of literally turning itself inside out.

Then it was gone, but where its center had been was now a tiny ship as unfamiliar as the energy display had been. No bigger than an Enterprise shuttlecraft, it had stubby, hawkish wings that had a Klingon look about them, but instead of a slender, arched neck leading up to a head, there was no neck at all, just an angular protrusion on what Picard a.s.sumed was the front of the body. What appeared to be a single warp drive nacelle was visible at the rear. For just a moment the ship was motionless except for a slight rotation on its axis, as if reorienting itself. Then, abruptly, it headed directly for the Enterprise, taking up right where the ball of pyrotechnic light had left off. Within seconds, despite its size, it was moving at a warp speed only slightly less than the Enterprise was capable of.

Without warning, the object exploded. The viewscreen went instantly blank as the protective circuits kicked in. Looking at the readouts on Data's control panels, Picard saw the energy signature of the explosion.

It had been a low-yield photon torpedo, similar to the ones used by the early Federation. Similar to the ones that had, according to Data's scans, exploded near the inner planet a hundred years ago.