All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [74]
He gestured ever so slightly, and the captain’s head was suddenly full of images and concepts he couldn’t begin to comprehend. It was staggering… overwhelming.
Q went on, his voice a distant drone. “The real voyage of exploration has yet to begin, Jean-Luc… a voyage vastly unlike any other in your experience. And it has nothing to do with mapping star systems and charting nebulae. It’s a voyage of perceptions… of thoughts… of moments and possibilities…”
Just as Picard thought he was beginning to see, the images vanished. It left him feeling empty… and terri-bly alone, like someone who has been cut off from the very thing that defined him.
‘“Well,” Q told him, “maybe you’re not quite ready yet. But you seem to have demonstrated a certain aptitude for higher learning. Perhaps someday, you’ll get the picture.” He dusted off his judge’s robes. “In any case, I’ll be here watching… and waiting. And if you’re very, very lucky, I’ll drop by to say hello from time to time.”
Q was becoming translucent, immaterial. Already, the details of the courtroom were visible through him.
“Until we meet again, mon capitaine. In the meantime, you really should get some clothes on. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
As the last of his adversary faded away, Picard reached out…
… and found himself stepping out of a turbolift, dressed in nothing but his bathrobe.
Worf and Deanna were standing there in the corridor, looking at him in surprise. It took the captain a moment to realize what had happened.
Q had deposited him back at the beginning of his adventure… if one could call it that. This was the point at which he had pleaded with the counselor for help, and then— Yes. And then.
This time, however, it would be different. After all, he wasn’t staggering around, claiming vague recollections of his initial experiences in the past and the future.
This time, his memories were clear and complete. He remembered all that had happened, from his meeting with Geordi in the vineyard at Labarre to his final’ assault on the anomaly in all three time periods. And Q himself had told him that his gambit had ultimately succeeded.
Because of that, events could not help but pursue a different course. Or could they?
A specter of doubt raised its head. What if Q had plunked him down at some other point in time… a point that only superficially resembled the beginning of his time trek?
What if there was something about his test that was still incomplete? What if, through some cruel turn of events, there was still some aspect of the puzzle left to be solved?
Deanna stared at him with concern in her lovely dark eyes. “Captain, are you all right?”
His heart banging against his ribs, Picard turned to the Klingon. “Lieutenant… what’s the date?”
Worf wasn’t sure what was going on—but he answered anyway. “Stardate four-seven-nine-eight-eight.”
Stardate four-seven-nine-eight-eight. The exact same day and time on which his time-shifting escapade had begun.
The captain was overwhelmed with relief. He laughed out loud, not caring about the wary look that went back and forth between Deanna and Worfi For the moment, not caring about anything… except the fact that he was back where he belonged. “Is something wrong, sir?” asked the counselor.
Picard shook his head. “Not at all. In fact, I think I’ll go back to bed. I could really do with some sleep.”
And with that, he stepped back inside the turbolift compartment. As the doors closed, the last thing he saw was the querulous expressions on the faces of his officers.
CHAPTER
2&
Captain’s Log, Supplemental. All is once again right with the galaxy. Starfleet Command reports no unusual activity along the Neutral Zone, nor is there any sign of the temporal anomaly. What’s more, it would appear I am the only member of the crew to retain any knowledge of the events I experienced—though I’ve seen fit to brief my senior staff on them. Crusher looked at Riker. As always, his expression was unreadable. He had the best poker face she’d ever seen. “Well?” he asked.
There was a note of confidence in his voice.