The professor's eyes were stuck slightly open, and a trail of dried drool ran down his cheek from the corner of his mouth. He wasn't breathing, putting a dampener on Rasmussen's joy at his silence.

Every curse and swearword that Rasmussen had ever heard of tumbled through his head, fighting for airtime that none of them got. There were just too many of them for one to take control of his tongue, and he found that he suddenly couldn't shift the breath in his chest either. The best Rasmussen could manage as a eulogy was a rather strangled little gasp.

How did one get rid of a corpse? Worse, how did one get rid of a corpse that had never been alive, or at least not yet? Rasmussen knew he couldn't just take the prof to a hospital, lest some doctor discover something about future medicine. He couldn't let that happen unless he had already formed a partnership with the doc to share any patents and royalties.

He also couldn't just dump the prof somewhere, because pretty soon he'd be tracked down on suspicion of murder.

In the end, he took the body, in the middle of the night, to the shabby and run-down self-storage garage that he'd hired to keep the time pod in. It sat gathering dust on the grimy cement floor, with only a freezer, a steel filing cabinet, and a couple of moldy cardboard cartons for company.

This was the first stroke of luck he'd had in a month, because, as he was dragging the corpse toward the freezer in the back of the room, its hand flopped across and brushed the side of the time pod, just for a moment.

The time pod made a clunk clunk.

Rasmussen froze, dropping the feet of the corpse, and turned slowly to look at the time pod. The door, at long last, and with painful slowness, lifted open. Rasmussen could hardly bear it, and crouched down with his head cricked to one side to see the fabulous revelations as early as possible. This was, after all, the first true time machine, or at least it would become the first once he "invented" it.

Just how advanced was such a vehicle? Would it have anything he would even recognize as technology, or would it be as far beyond his understanding as a warp reactor would be beyond a Victorian steam engineer? The antic.i.p.ation was killing him.

The door edged up and out, and Rasmussen drank in the sight that he beheld. There was a small cargo s.p.a.ce, the walls and ceiling all quilted with some kind of shining metallic mesh, but otherwise little different from the back of a van or a shuttlepod. A couple of seats at the front gave the user a comfortable position from which to operate the controls on the dashboard console.

Rasmussen's smile froze on his face. Regular seats and a dash. Somehow it wasn't as magical as he had hoped. It was one thing to go along with Clarke's Law, and accept that any sufficiently advanced technology was indistinguishable from magic, but it was strangely disappointing when said advanced technology was indistinguishable from the downright commonplace.

He sighed. "Should have expected it, I suppose," he muttered to himself. Ever since humans had started building enclosed vehicles, the layout had always been the same. Two seats in front of a dash, whether they were in a ground car, a truck, an airplane, a shuttlepod, or a time vessel.

There was a data slate lying on the seat, and he hoped it contained a user manual.

Forgetting about the body cooling on the cement, he picked up the slate and began to read. He already knew where, and when, he wanted to visit.

10.

Scotty and La Forge walked through the corridors of Intrepid Intrepid's D-deck, admiring the handiwork of the engineers. The ship looked as good as new, as far as Scotty could tell, with not a speck of dead biomatter remaining. It was a cold ship, though, as if its bones were still frozen somewhere deep inside.

"It's like steppin' back a hundred years," Scotty whispered in amazement. "Right into history." He wondered if Geordi would feel the same way about his Enterprise, Enterprise, the original NCC-1701. the original NCC-1701.

"More like two hundred," La Forge said, "but you're right, I feel like it's 2162 today."

Scotty reached out a hand, letting his fingertips brush across the handle that was set into the circular b.u.t.tress at his side. "Aye . . . I never thought I'd be aboard a ship that both of us are equally out of place on."

"Frankly, I wasn't sure we could actually get her powered up again."

Scotty, if he was honest with himself, hadn't thought it was possible either, but if there was one thing he'd learned about getting people to continue doing their best, it was to never express surprise at their success. At his own success, yes, but not at other people's. "If our people hadn't had a wee bit o' practice by bringin' Columbia Columbia home, we might never have managed it, but I guess everything's easier the second time." They stopped by the door to engineering, which La Forge unlocked and pushed open. Scotty remained astonished to see a starship door that actually swung on hinges. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, lad, next we'll be seeing that the shuttlebay doors are sealed with a padlock." home, we might never have managed it, but I guess everything's easier the second time." They stopped by the door to engineering, which La Forge unlocked and pushed open. Scotty remained astonished to see a starship door that actually swung on hinges. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, lad, next we'll be seeing that the shuttlebay doors are sealed with a padlock."

"They always said the past is another country."

"Gettin' an entry visa is always the tricky part, isn't it?"

La Forge laughed as they entered the engine room. The central reactor and warp core were encased in bronze-colored panels, rather than being transparent and glowing as he was used to. Reg Barclay turned from the main panel as they entered. "Commander, Captain. We're, uh, pretty sure the warp core is good to go. We'd like to run some more tests before trying to move the ship, but there's no reason why we couldn't go to warp right now."

"We're in no hurry," Scotty a.s.sured him. "Take as much time as you need." It was nice to be able to be generous with time, and not have to be rushing to jury-rig things.

"Really?" Barclay seemed surprised, and Scotty supposed it was because he was so used to those kinds of emergencies in his career.

"Really."

"Besides, Reg," La Forge added, "we've got a long way to go to get full computer control, and we won't be moving until we do. The logs can tell us what happened here, and if it was an internal problem, we don't want it happening to us."

"You've no arguments from me on that, Commander."

Scotty smiled and nodded. "Good. It sounds like you know what needs to be done here, Geordi. I'll return to the Challenger Challenger and see whether we can slave the and see whether we can slave the Intrepid Intrepid's computer to ours, and bring it online that way."

"Okay."

Scotty tapped the combadge on his vest, and said, "Scott to Challenger, Challenger, one to beam over." one to beam over."

As Scotty stepped out of the turbolift and onto the Challenger Challenger's bridge, a proximity alarm blared. Scotty looked over to Nog.

"Klingon vessel decloaking, sir. Vor'cha- Vor'cha-cla.s.s."

"Put her on screen." Scotty made for his seat, but didn't make it there before he was knocked almost off his feet.

The bridge shook with an echoing thud, and Scotty and Nog both had to hang on to the rail to stay upright. Brahms almost fell from the seat at the engineering station, where she had just sat down ten minutes earlier. More alarms went off, and Nog started to announce something. "That was a b.l.o.o.d.y photon torpedo hit." Scotty cut him off. "Red Alert!" Qat'qa was already throwing the ship into a roll, but Scotty called out to her anyway. "Evasive maneuvers, Kat!" It was more for the benefit of the rest of the bridge crew, so that they would know he was on top of things. Kat didn't reply, but Scotty could see her grin from where he was lowering himself into the center seat.

What the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l are the Klingons playing at? he wondered. Stepping back into history was nice enough, but not when it meant going back to the bad old days of conflict with the Klingons. he wondered. Stepping back into history was nice enough, but not when it meant going back to the bad old days of conflict with the Klingons.

The ship rocked again, less severely this time, and the Klingon warship momentarily flitted across the main viewer, swooping toward Intrepid Intrepid and her cl.u.s.ter of support shuttles and runabouts. "There's something a wee bit off about that ship," Scotty mused aloud. He couldn't put his finger on it at first, beyond that it was attacking two Federation ships. He still had to remind himself that it was an unusual act for Klingons in this era. and her cl.u.s.ter of support shuttles and runabouts. "There's something a wee bit off about that ship," Scotty mused aloud. He couldn't put his finger on it at first, beyond that it was attacking two Federation ships. He still had to remind himself that it was an unusual act for Klingons in this era.

"Lieutenant Nog, I want a spread of torpedoes up that ship's jacksie before they can do any more damage. Try to cripple their engines, so we can have a wee chat with them, if we can."

"Aye, sir." Nog glanced across his tactical board.

The screen tilted, and the Klingon ship weaved across it again. It was a familiar shape, with two drooping warp nacelles and a long neck stretching out from its infernal red and yellow hull. "That's it," Scotty snarled, cursing himself for not having noticed the obvious immediately. He'd had more than enough dealings with the Klingons in his time to know what their ships ought to look like. "That's no b.l.o.o.d.y Klingon Defense Force ship. Not in those colors."

"No, sir," Qat'qa agreed.

Nog touched a control and looked up. "It's not transmitting a Klingon transponder code."

"Of course not," Qat'qa scoffed.

"If it's not Klingon, who does it belong to?"

"No one who deserves to be flying it," Qat'qa said firmly.

"It could be almost anyone," Tyler Hunt commented from the seat at Scotty's right hand. "Since the Klingon Civil War quite a few vessels loyal to the Duras found their way onto the black market, and that has only become more common since the Borg conflict. There are a lot of salvageable ships out there."

"Klingon vessels are robust enough," Scotty mused, "but they tend not to be state of the art."

"They're popular because they have cloaks. Orion and Ferengi entrepreneurs are reported to have flotillas of exKlingon vessels, dating back to the old D-7s."

"Cloaks are always going to be popular with smugglers, right enough," Scotty agreed.

"They're getting more popular with younger warp civilizations too. After the Dominion War and the Borg, people think being able to hide from the predators is a pretty good idea. I can't honestly say they're wrong."

"They're coming about," Nog reported.

"Not for long," Qat'qa added, sending the Challenger Challenger into a lurching spin as Nog launched a spread of torpedoes. into a lurching spin as Nog launched a spread of torpedoes.

Intrepid shook violently and without warning. La Forge's head snapped up from where he was examining the underside of the main engine control board. "What was that, Reg?" shook violently and without warning. La Forge's head snapped up from where he was examining the underside of the main engine control board. "What was that, Reg?"

Barclay looked around like a startled rabbit. "It wasn't anything we did."

"Challenger to to Intrepid," Hunt's voice came over the communications relay, Intrepid," Hunt's voice came over the communications relay, "brace yourselves!" "brace yourselves!"

"What's happening, Commander?" La Forge shouted, though in his heart he already knew. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce the painful truth.

"We're under attack. Stand by."

"Under attack?" Barclay echoed.

"That's what he said." La Forge headed for the nearest door. "Keep an eye on things here, Reg. I'll be on the bridge." He was the senior officer aboard Intrepid, Intrepid, which meant he was in command of her, and that meant his place was on the bridge. which meant he was in command of her, and that meant his place was on the bridge.

Nog looked up from the unsettling news on his tactical board. "They're targeting Intrepid." Intrepid." He could feel an embryonic fear creeping up on him, telling him that he should be a proper Ferengi and trade, not fight, but he ignored it. He could feel an embryonic fear creeping up on him, telling him that he should be a proper Ferengi and trade, not fight, but he ignored it.

Scotty nodded. "Kat, get us between them and Intrepid." Intrepid."

"Aye, sir, on our way." She didn't look up from her board.

Scotty turned to tactical. "Mister Nog, as soon as we're in range, extend our shields around Intrepid." Intrepid."

"Ready, sir." Nog had antic.i.p.ated the captain's order and set it up already. The Intrepid Intrepid had no shields, which meant only had no shields, which meant only Challenger Challenger's shields could protect her. A new blip appeared on the tactical sensors, and Nog checked its ident.i.ty without even thinking. "Captain, the runabout Clyde Clyde has undocked from has undocked from Intrepid." Intrepid."

"What the h.e.l.l is Carter playing at?"

The runabout Clyde Clyde shot off toward the Klingon ship, raising her shields and arming her weapons. shot off toward the Klingon ship, raising her shields and arming her weapons.

Lieutenant Carter, the broad-shouldered, freckle-faced New Zealander, had been checking over the connections between the Clyde Clyde and and Intrepid Intrepid's environmental controls when the attack began, and he quickly realized that the runabout's weapons were Intrepid Intrepid's only defense.

"Carter," La Forge's voice called. La Forge's voice called. "Pull away! You don't stand a chance!" "Pull away! You don't stand a chance!"

"If I can keep them off of Intrepid-" Intrepid-"

The Clyde Clyde took a photon torpedo hit, and her port nacelle sparked with energy discharging out along the structure's length instead of being carried safely along the waveguides to propel the vessel. took a photon torpedo hit, and her port nacelle sparked with energy discharging out along the structure's length instead of being carried safely along the waveguides to propel the vessel.

"d.a.m.n! Shields are down! EPS grid is-"

"Take evasive action!" La Forge, Scotty, and Hunt yelled at exactly the same time. They were all too late. A second torpedo punched the now unshielded runabout in the gut, and the ship disintegrated in a cloud of superheated debris. La Forge, Scotty, and Hunt yelled at exactly the same time. They were all too late. A second torpedo punched the now unshielded runabout in the gut, and the ship disintegrated in a cloud of superheated debris.

Scotty glared at the dissipating wreckage, and felt the urge to do someone some damage. "Mister Nog. No more mister b.l.o.o.d.y nice guy."

"Our shields are extended around Intrepid." Intrepid."

On screen, the enemy ship heeled over, launched a couple of torpedoes from her aft tubes, and leapt to warp.

"Track her course," Hunt ordered. "Long range scan in case they're just trying to make us think they're running, and have only made a short jump to the edge of the system."

"Scanning," Leah called from her station at the rear of the bridge. "They're at warp, but it looks like a curved trajectory. They're probably coming back."

"Not if I can help it," Scotty growled. "Commander La Forge," he called out, giving the ship's computer a couple of seconds to route the call through to Intrepid. Intrepid. "What's your status over there?" "What's your status over there?"

"A little shaken up, Captain, but we seem to be undamaged." La Forge's voice was calm and controlled. La Forge's voice was calm and controlled.

Scotty hesitated. If he left the Intrepid Intrepid alone, and lost track of the attacking ship, it could double back to hit them again. If he caught it, however, he could put a stop to this right now. "Good. Carry on, Mister La Forge. We'll be back with you shortly." alone, and lost track of the attacking ship, it could double back to hit them again. If he caught it, however, he could put a stop to this right now. "Good. Carry on, Mister La Forge. We'll be back with you shortly."

"Understood," La Forge replied. La Forge replied.

"Pursuit course," Hunt told Qat'qa with a nod.

"Aye, sir," she said with audible relish.

In Intrepid Intrepid's half-restored bridge, La Forge and Rasmussen watched the Challenger Challenger hurtle forward, warping after their attacker. La Forge knew that the hurtle forward, warping after their attacker. La Forge knew that the Intrepid Intrepid was capable of supporting the eleven people on board comfortably, and she could even move if she had to. was capable of supporting the eleven people on board comfortably, and she could even move if she had to.

Rasmussen cleared his throat. "What do you think we should do now, Commander?"

La Forge grimaced at the idea that it was Rasmussen asking that. "Same thing we've been doing, only quicker. The sooner we're able to move on our own, the better."

"Uh-oh," Ensign Balis said from the science station. He was Bolian, and flushed a deeper blue as he watched the sensors. "Sir, two ships are decloaking."

"On screen!" The main viewer flickered, flashed, and spat static. Then, through the fog of randomized pixels, a long-necked ship with inverted goose wings painted in fiery red and gold swept past, followed by a larger, hunched crab of a vessel, which was the color of Martian dust.

"K't'inga-cla.s.s Klingon battle cruiser," Balis said, looking at the sensor displays, "and-"

"And a Ferengi marauder," La Forge said. "I see them. Hail the Challenger Challenger and tell them-" and tell them-"

Balis rattled the communications controls. "We're being jammed."

"d.a.m.n. Can we polarize the hull plating yet?"

"I think so, sir." Balis started throwing switches. "But I don't know how much good it'll do."

"Not a h.e.l.l of a lot, against twenty-fourth century weapons," Rasmussen commented. "But don't let that put you off. The morale element should-"

"Thanks," La Forge said curtly.

Rasmussen shrugged. "s.p.a.ce combat isn't really my area of expertise, though the thought does occur that we're a sitting duck with the shuttles still docked."