All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [25]
“It is already happening,” his teacher advised him.
“Then I’ve got to stop it,” he said.
The Traveler smiled benignly at him. “Then you believe it is wise for you to intervene?”
The young man’s mouth went dry as dust. “Traveler … they’re my friends. My family. How can I fail to intervene?”
His teacher continued to smile. “Not so long ago, it appeared that there would be violence in this village. Do you remember?”
Wesley nodded. How could he forget? The Indians who lived here had made prisoners of some Cardassians, and Captain Picard had been duty-bound to free them. For a few tense moments, the Federation security team had squared off against the villagers, and it seemed like a good bet that there would be blood spilled before the day was out.
He had wanted to do something back then—but the Traveler had convinced him not to. He’d said, “They must find their own destinies, Wesley. It is not our place to interfere.” And then: “Have faith in their abilities to solve their problems on their own.”
Sure enough, the captain found a way to avoid disaster that day. But was it sheer luck that things had worked out… or did the Traveler know in advance that it would happen that way? Even after all his studies, Wesley still wasn’t entirely sure.
“Is it like… the Prime Directire?” he asked out loud. “Are we forbidden to get involved?”
His teacher shrugged a bit. “There are always laws, Wesley. Some are self-imposed, and others are imposed upon usmbut they are laws nonetheless.”
The human frowned as he glanced again at the burst of color. “But aren’t there times when a law needs to be broken? Aren’t there exceptions?”
The Traveler tilted his head in a way that made him look a little like Data. “Perhaps. But to whom should we entrust that decision? Who has the wisdom to know when we should make an exception?”
Wesley sighed. It was like the Prime Directive. “Then I can’t do a thing to help them? To tell them what’s going on?”
His teacher gazed at him sympathetically. “If I were you,” he replied finally, “I would not interfere… even if it were within my power.”
The human walked over to the bench that was built into the western wall and sat down hem/ily. Running his fingers through his hair, he breathed a ragged breath. “Morn…” he whispered. Riker shook his head as he sat in his customary place at the observation 1ounge’s dark, reflective table, surrounded by the ship’s other senior officers. He’d seen his share of fantastic phenomena, but this one took the cake. The idea that the captain was traveling through time, the victim of some capricious agency as yet beyond their understanding… it was bizarre, to say the least. And more than a little unsettling.
As the first officer gazed at Picard, he had the feeling that the captain might pop in and out of their reality at any time—an entire journey, perhaps two or three days’ worth, completed in the space of an eyeblink.
Still, it wasn’t anyone’s imagination. It was happening. Dr. Crusher had shown him proof of that—and they’d had their run-ins with Time before, so they all knew that temporal travel was possible.
Riker might have felt better if they’d had a little more to go on—some data they could sink their collective teeth into. Unfortunately, they had nothing of the kind.
But then, that was the purpose of this meeting, wasn’t it? To see what they could nail down with regard to Picard’s time-shifting. And then to see what—if anything—they could do about it.
“Thank you all for being prompt,” the captain told them. “As you know,” he added only half-seriously, “time is of the essence.” Then, turning to Deanna, he asked, “Counselor, do you remember the first day I came aboard the Enterprise?” She returned his gaze. “Yes, I think I do.”
Picard leaned forward. “What happened after the welcoming ceremony?”
“You mean after you disembarked from the Galileo?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Deanna thought for a moment. “There was a reception in Ten-Forward. I introduced you to Worf and the other senior officers …. “