Q & A - Keith R. A. DeCandido [67]
“Analysis,” Halloway said from the command chair.
From the tactical station, Security Chief Christine Vale reported, “We’ve got a bunch of Sovereign-class ships—or at least ones that match the hull configuration—and a lot of them have a registry of NCC-1701-E. No good readings on whatever it is that is at the center of all this.”
“Neat trick,” Halloway muttered.
Picard spoke up. “Captain, I believe I know what is happening. It is a quantum fissure, and they are Enterprises from different quantum realities.”
Data whirled around in his chair, and Picard again found himself feeling a pang of regret. The android was dressed in a red-trimmed uniform, the one he would’ve worn had he not died in the battle against Shinzon.
Picard knew what was going on. Just as Q had sent him to inhabit himself in three different time frames almost a decade ago, Q had sent Picard to inhabit himself in each of these Enterprises, except his own.
“An intriguing hypothesis, Mister Picard,” Data said.
“It’s not a hypothesis, Commander, it’s fact—and what’s more, I can prove it. With your permission?”
Data nodded.
Picard put the sensor data he’d just accumulated on the main viewer, showing that each of the ships they were sharing this space with had a different quantum signature.
Halloway stroked his Vandyke beard. “Data—is that even possible?”
“Theoretically, yes. I believe Mister Picard is correct that we have encountered a quantum fissure.”
Halloway ordered, “Lieutenant Vale, try to hail the other ships—see if anyone answers.”
“Yes, si—” Something caught Vale’s attention on her tactical status board. “Captain, one of the ships is charging weapons!”
Jean-Luc Picard sat on the bridge of the I. K. S. Qu’.
The heavy chains weighed him down, chafing his neck and wrists and ankles, preventing him from moving without the edges of the shackles cutting into his skin. Every time the wounds scabbed over, one of the Klingons made sure to rip the scabs open so they could be sliced through anew, never quite healing.
He was seated at the feet of the command chair. Once, that chair had been his. Indeed, he’d held on to it longer than most of his fellow UESPA captains. Eventually, he had been conquered, taken by the Klingons, whose empire now spanned most of the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and with the conquest of Bajor almost complete, they would likely take on the Gamma Quadrant next.
Picard had destroyed the ship that went after Enterprise, a defiant gesture he’d accomplished even as the boarding parties were rounding up his crew. They were all dead now, executed in front of him: Riker’s throat cut, Data deactivated and disassembled, La Forge disemboweled, Yar shot while trying to escape, Crusher and Troi both violated and strangled, Argyle decapitated….
Because the Klingon ship was destroyed, the fleet general took Enterprise, rechristened her, and claimed her as his own.
The doors to the bridge opened, and the heavy tread of Klingon boots heralded the conqueror’s arrival.
His cassock billowing behind him as he moved to the center seat, General Worf, son of Mogh, bellowed, “Report! What has happened?”
The Klingon who had taken over Yar’s tactical station said, “I do not know, my lord. We are surrounded by ships of similar design to that of the Qu’.”
“Impossible.” Worf kicked Picard in the ribs as he sat down. The former captain winced but made no outward showing, knowing that the Klingon would reward that with another kick. “All the Federation ships of this class were destroyed.”
“I cannot explain it, my lord.”
“I can,” Picard found himself saying.
Worf looked down. He grabbed the chain attached to the shackle around Picard’s neck and yanked him forward. Picard couldn’t help wincing as the sides of the shackles bit into his chin. “Explain yourself, slave.”
The pull of the shackle made it hard to breathe, but Picard managed to say, “We have entered