CHAPTER 25

THE PHOENIX ripped through a realm of space not even Zefram Cochrane had imagined.

Her engines had the power to change the course of stars and turn planets into glittering nebulae of atomic gas just by passing too close to them. But that power was contained and channeled by technology—technology assimilated from a thousand different cultures, from trillions of different individuals, representing as it did the sum total of Borg knowledge.

But now, only seventeen beings rode within the Phoenix as she began her final run. Fifteen of her passengers were already displaced in time. Two others were willing to face the same risks.

The ship's destination was fifty light-years away. But with the incomprehensible power she controlled, she would reach it within the hour.

And that hour might be the last the beings within her would ever know.

“Come with us,” Jake said.

But Nog shook his head, his attention riveted on the main viewer of the battle bridge. “The Phoenix has to end up on Syladdo, fourth moon of Ba'Syladon,” he said.

Without taking his eyes from the viewer, Nog brandished the gleaming dedication plaque he was holding. “Along with this.”

“Nog, you can't do this!” Jake said, alarmed by his friend's intentions. “The wreckage wasn't found until after we disappeared. You won't be changing the timeline.”

Nog stared straight ahead, undeterred. “If the wreckage isn't there, the timeline will be changed. I've gone over it with Jadzia and Dr. Bashir.”

“Then . . .” Jake struggled to find the right words, the right argument. “Then program the computer to crash the damn thing!”

“No, Jake. There's no guarantee the computers will function after the slingshot maneuver. If they need any significant time to reset themselves, the Phoenix could crash somewhere else in the meantime. Maybe even on Bajor. Wipe out a city.”

“Come on, Nog. You can't kill yourself!”

“I don't plan to. The Romulans' charts of the crash site were very detailed. And as I told you before, they only found forty percent of the ship.” Nog flashed a quick grin at Jake over his shoulder, before turning back to the viewer. “Remember, the Phoenix is a multivector ship. Not counting the bridge we jettisoned, that means two segments didn't crash. I'll be able to go anywhere. Even Erelyn IV.”

“Anywhere except home,” Jake said. Because that was Nog's plan for the rest of them. Starfleet Intelligence knew that Ascendancy starships would be keeping station at the coordinates where the wormholes would open and merge. Nog was going to beam Jake and the others to the bridge of one of those starships so that it could instantly warp into a slingshot trajectory around the mouth of the blue wormhole. The precise temporal heading would be unimportant, because wherever in the past the ship emerged, Jadzia would have more than enough time to calculate a precise trajectory to bring them back to their own time, before the Red Orbs of Jalbador were discovered.

It would be an alternate timeline. The past twenty-five years could not be erased. But at least one universe would survive. Perhaps.

Jake couldn't hold his emotions in any longer. He and Nog had been through too much together. “I'm going to miss you,” he said.

Nog suddenly turned his back on the viewer. “Me, too, Jake. But there'll be another me back in your time.” He reached out and gave Jake's shoulder a squeeze.

Jake felt a lump tighten his throat. “Bet he'll be surprised when I tell him how things turned out here.”

But Nog shook his head. “Don't tell him. Please.”

“Why not?”

“Back then I was just a kid, Jake. I wasn't sure what I wanted. I liked Starfleet. I thought maybe I had a career. But part of me still wanted to go into business. When things got bad after the station was destroyed, that's when I decided to stick it out in the Fleet. But if things are different when you go back . . . well, I wouldn't want some version of myself sticking with Starfleet just because that's what I did. I'd like to think I had a second chance along with the rest of the universe. Okay?”

Jake nodded. He understood. At least he thought he did. “I'm still going to put this all in a book,” he told Nog.

“Just make sure it's fiction.”

“Absolutely.”

“And make sure the brave Ferengi captain has really crooked teeth and spectacularly big lobes.”

“Gigantic!” Jake had to smile in spite of the way he felt.

“And put in a scene like in Vulcan Love Slave —” Nog giggled, just the way Jake remembered he used to.

“Part Two!” Jake laughed out loud as Nog's giggles became contagious.

“The Revenge!” both young men, both little boys, shouted in unison.

“Only this time, the Ferengi gets the girls! And they're all . . . fully clothed!”

They collapsed against each other then, gasping in hilarity, laughing as they hadn't laughed in twenty-five years, Jake realized.

Suddenly serious, Jake looked at his friend. “I promise,” he said.

“I know. You're a good man, Jake.”

Then the door to the battle bridge slid open. Quickly composing themselves, Jake and Nog turned together to see—

Vash.

And Admiral Picard at her side.

“Where's Q when you need him? That's what I want to know,” Vash said as she guided Admiral Picard onto the battle bridge, while gently holding on to his arm. The admiral was smiling happily.

“Will! Geordi! Where have you two been hiding?”

Everyone on the Phoenix knew the Old Man had his good times and his bad, easily distinguished by the names by which he addressed those he met. So both Jake and Nog respectfully greeted the admiral in turn without correcting him, and Vash helped Picard to his chair, from which all operational controls had carefully been removed.

“Seriously,” Vash said to Nog as she joined him by the viewer, “does anyone know what's happened to Q?”

“The admiral's been telling you about him?” Nog asked.

Vash nodded. “He says Q comes to see him almost every day. Is that right?”

“No,” Nog said. “I wish it were. A few years ago when all this started, there was a whole division at Starfleet that was trying to make contact with the Q continuum. Q helped out the Old Man once before with time travel. We thought maybe we could ask him to help again. But no one's seen him for . . . well, since DS9 was destroyed. Except for the Old Man's stories, that is.”

“And you're really sure Q isn't in contact with him?”

“Positive,” Nog said. “At the shipyards, we even tried putting the Old Man under constant surveillance. He'd have conversations with an empty chair, then tell us that Q had visited him. Or Data. Sometimes it was Worf. Sorry.”

Jake saw how Vash watched Picard in his chair, saw the sudden liquid brightening her eyes. “So am I,” she said. Then she squared her shoulders and looked down at Nog. “Okay, Hotshot, listen up. I'm coming with you.”

“No, you're not!” Nog sputtered in surprise.

“Yes I am, and you can't stop me because you need me.”

“I do not!”

Vash pointed to the admiral. “But he does!” She held up a small medkit. “When was the last time you checked his peridaxon levels?”

Jake was surprised by how flustered Nog became under Vash's stern scrutiny. “I've . . . been busy. I was just going to.”

“And because you've been so busy,” Vash said, “the greatest starship commander in Starfleet history has been calling you Will Riker and him Geordi La Forge. He deserves better treatment, Captain Nog.”

“And what makes you think he can get it from you?”

In the midst of this heated exchange, Jake saw Vash become unexpectedly quiet. And the only reason for her change in mood that he could see was that she was again gazing at Picard.

“I owe that man,” she said, without anger or hostility.

“You knew him?” Nog asked. “I mean . . .”

Vash nodded. “I know what you mean. Ever hear of Dr. Samuel Estragon?”

Nog hadn't. Neither had Jake.

“Doesn't matter. But I'm not leaving Jean-Luc. And I don't care if I have to chew your precious lobes off to make you agree.”

Jake saw Nog flush. “Do you know what you're getting yourself into?”

“I do,” Vash said simply. “An act of loyalty for one. An appreciation of a great man.” She looked deep into Nog's eyes. “Maybe even a chance to help you out because I just know you're going to need all the help you can get.”

“You're also risking getting trapped more than two and half millennia in the past.”

“I'm an archaeologist, Hotshot. I should be so lucky.” Then she tapped Nog's chest with her finger. “And just for the record, I've already been farther back in the past, farther forward in the future, and farther away than this two-credit quadrant.”

Nog stared at Vash in disbelief, but Jake thought he knew what she meant.

“How is that even possible?” Nog asked.

Vash grinned. “Jean-Luc and me, let's just say we've got a friend in high places. And maybe he hasn't shown up in this timeline 'cause he knows it doesn't amount to anything. And maybe when we show up a few dozen centuries out of place he'll look in on us again.”

“Q,” Nog said, distrustful. “And what if he doesn't?”

Vash rolled her shoulders. “I speak and write ancient Bajoran. Maybe we can put on a traveling show.”

Nog was wary. “If I do let you accompany us on our mission, I will expect you to behave like a member of my crew and treat me with respect.”

“And I'll expect you to act in such a way that you'll deserve my respect.”

Vash and Nog stared at each other for a long moment, and Jake could tell that neither one of them wanted to be the first to give in.

So Jake took the initiative.

“I think it's a good deal,” he said. “I think you should shake on it before you change your minds.” He put his hand on Nog's shoulder. “Think of the admiral. She's got a point.”

Nog grudgingly held out his hand. “All right. For the Old Man's sake. But don't make me regret taking you.”

Vash's smile was dazzling, and instead of taking Nog's hand she ran two fingers lightly around the outer curve of his ear, ending with a small scratch at his sensitive lower lobe. “Regret taking me? Are you kidding?”

Jake thought Nog's eyes would roll up permanently in his head.

Vash fluttered her long, slim fingers at him, then turned away and went back to Picard.

“What have I done?” Nog marveled.

“I think you've made the best decision of your life,” Jake said heartily, not sure at all about what he was saying. But then Nog had never been able to tell when he was bluffing.

“Really?”

“Look at it this way,” Jake told his friend. “With Vash along, whatever else happens she's going to keep things . . . interesting.”

Nog sighed heavily. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

Then Jake looked at the time display on the main viewer.

The universe had forty-seven minutes left.