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“You could have.”

“No. I learned my lesson on that score after Rashanar, believe me. But that’s why I made sure I was at the wedding. I wanted a chance to see him—and everyone else—one last time, before

” He trailed off. “It’s the cycle, I know that—life, death, rebirth. This galaxy will eventually be reborn. By the time that happens, the galaxy I’m from will be doing what this one’s doing now.”

The other Traveler prompted him. “And yet?”

“There’s an old human saying that one death is a tragedy and a million deaths is a statistic.” He pointed at the dying galaxy. “Trillions of trillions of life-forms are dying or have died because this galaxy is collapsing. But I can’t make myself feel that the same way I feel about Data. He was one of my best friends, and he should’ve been able to outlive all of us.” He smiled. “Well, except me, now, but you know what I mean.” Then, for the first time, he looked at his fellow Traveler, the one whom he first met on the EnterpriseD in the company of a small-minded fool named Kozinski, the one who later welcomed him into the Travelers’ ranks on Dorvan V. “There’s so much more I understand now, so many new ways of looking at the universe. That’s the other reason why I couldn’t go back—it’d be like living in a box to just be a regular human again. But if I’m so much more, then why can’t I—”

The other Traveler shook his head. “Ah, Wesley—don’t you see? When you became one of us, you became more than human, it’s true—but you didn’t become less human. You still love your friends, and you still care when they die. Even though you’ve expanded the nature of who you are, that doesn’t change the core. And at your core, you are still Wesley Eugene Crusher, son of Jack and Beverly Crusher, and friend to an android who is now gone.”

The Traveler turned back to the galaxy. He squinted, and could see the singularity at its center, pulling all matter and energy into its vortex.

After several moments, during which he saw three suns disappear into the singularity’s maw, he asked, “Does it ever make sense?”

“No. But we’re working on it.”

“I guess that’ll have to do. But you know what?” He turned back to the other Traveler. “I’m tired of dead things. Let’s go look at something living.”

Together, the two Travelers left the distant galaxy. One thought of how proud he was of his protégé, and how far he was progressing.

The other thought about how much he would miss his friend.

Sunrise on Qo’noS was beautiful.

Alexander had never really seen the sunrise over the Klingon Homeworld before. Watching it paint its fiery yellows and oranges across the First City filled Alexander with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Today, finally, I’m home.

He had been Alexander, the son of K’Ehleyr. Then he was Alexander Rozhenko, after Father’s foster parents took him in. Then he joined the Klingon Defense Force, was made a part of Martok’s House as his father was, and he was Alexander, son of Worf.

Now he was Ambassador Rozhenko. Father had written a glowing recommendation, and President Bacco had formally appointed him to the post.

It was his first day on the job, and he was looking forward to it. The second-floor office had been stripped of all personal items, save one: a picture of Alexander as a mere babe with his mother and father, taken back on the EnterpriseD not long before Mother died. Father must have left it behind for me.

The picture hung on the wall, looking rather overwhelmed by the blank space around it. I’ll have to do something about that.

Moving over to the large wooden desk, Alexander stared down at the scattered mosaic of padds that covered the desktop, broken only by a com terminal. The padds’ displays were full of words like “resolution,” “request,” “meeting,” “extradition,” “High Council,” “Federation Council,” “legality,” “treaty,” and so on. He had no idea where to start.

Then he sat at the desk. He felt almost lost in the large leather chair, which had obviously been designed for his much larger father,