Three - Michael Jan Friedman [22]
The newcomer seemed to stiffen. “With all due respect, Captain, I’m giving you the facts as I know them. If this sounds a bit strange to you, rest assured that it sounds just as strange to me.”
Picard saw the look on her face—one of resentment and indignation—and wondered if he was being [61] unnecessarily suspicious. But then, it wasn’t every day another Asmund showed up on his ship.
Of course, there was an explanation at hand, if an extremely bizarre one. On at least one other occasion in Starfleet history, a seemingly routine transport had resulted in a crossing to another universe. If it could happen once, it could have happened a second time.
The captain hadn’t mentioned the possibility because he wanted to hear the woman’s story first. But now that he had, it was sounding more and more like she had experienced a reprise of that other ill-fated transport.
“Tell me,” he said, “this Stargazer on which you serve ... is it part of a fleet?”
“Yes,” she said. “We call it a Starfleet. It’s the military and scientific arm of a loosely organized union of planets called the Confederation.”
Well, Picard reflected, there is at least a small difference between our two universes, even if it is a matter of only a few letters.
“And is there a dominant member in your ... Confederation?” he asked.
The woman shook her head. “No. That’s the whole point—that every member world is equal to all others. Some worlds are less active in the organization, but that’s by choice.”
It was the answer Picard had hoped to hear.
He went on to ask his guest other questions, focusing in more narrowly on interstellar politics. Judging from her responses, her universe had its share of conflicts. But for the most part, it was an orderly place with long-observed treaties and well-patrolled borders.
[62] And no trace of tyranny, apparently. At least, not in the union called the Confederation.
Picard mulled everything the woman had said. Then he asked a question that was more to the point of his inquiry. “Have you ever heard of a man called Kirk?”
“Yes,” said Lieutenant Asmund. “Why?”
“He was ... my hero when I was a boy.”
It was stretching the truth, to say the least. But then, he needed an explanation, and that was the first plausible one that came to mind.
The woman shrugged. “Kirk was a starship captain. A good one, too, according to the histories I’ve read. He died some fifty years ago, fighting Klingons in the Mutara sector.”
Picard was familiar with the incident. But in his universe, Kirk had survived and gone on to play a key role in the Khitomer Conference, where the Federation and the Klingon Empire finally began to put aside their differences.
“Anything else?” asked Lieutenant Asmund. “My grandmother’s recipe for oatmeal cookies, perhaps?”
The captain had to smile. “My apologies. But I have discovered, in my short tenure as commanding officer of this vessel, that people are often not what they seem. I’m forced to apply that standard to you as well.”
The woman nodded. “Apology accepted. And believe me, I understand the need to be wary. But I assure you, Captain, I’m not here for any nefarious purposes. Nothing would please me more than to get back on that transporter pad and be returned to my own Stargazer.”
[63] “I am sure that’s true,” Picard told her. “However, considering we do not know precisely how you got here, it may be a tricky matter to get you back.”
The lieutenant didn’t look happy with his response. “I was hoping you would say something else,” she admitted, “but I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“I can tell you this,” he said. “We will do everything in our power to return you to your place and time of origin. However, in case that endeavor takes some time—”
“Or never happens at all,” she interjected fatalistically.
“In case of either of those outcomes, I invite you to make yourself as comfortable as you can here on the Stargazer. Though in line with my earlier comments regarding appearances, I feel compelled to supply you with a security escort.”
“No problem,” said Lieutenant