The Escape
  Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn
Rusch
  POCKET BOOKS New York London
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  Printed in the U.s.a. For John Ordover,
a good friend and a wonderful editor The Escape
CHAPTER
  I
  THE SHUTTLE DIPPED AND BUCKED.
CHIEF ENGINEER B'Elanna Torres kept
her balance with practiced ease. She braced herself
on the control panels with the heels of both hands.
Her fingers dancing on the control panels like those of a
concert pianist, constantly adjusting, strengthening,
shifting power. She hadn't flown a Starfleet
shuttle much since her Academy days, but it was coming
back to her. The mission should have been a simple one.
The largest asteroid in this sector had deposits of
armalcolite ore they needed to fix the Oltion
circuits in the warp processor. Torres had
convinced Captain Janeway to allow her to take a
shuttlecraft to the asteroid for the necessary supplies.
Sensors had shown an easy ride. In reality, the
asteroid belt was as volatile as the Badlands had
been. If Torres had 1% STAR TREK:
VOYAGER
  known that before she started, she would have asked for
Lieutenant Paris, the best pilot on
Voyager, to join her. Instead, the Vulcan
security officer Tavok sat in the pilot's
seat. His brow was furrowed, making his eyebrows
seem almost straight. He looked calm, but the
beads of sweat on his forehead showed his tension. He
wasn't the best pilot on board Voyager, but he
was good. They were so close. The sensors on
Voyager had shown a high concentration of ore in the
area, and Torres needed it. Desperately. .
"I do not believe the shuttle can stand more of this."
Tuvok spoke with his usual precision. "I
don't know if I can stand more of this." Torres
shifted her hand onto the console and almost lost her
balance. She wanted something to work right. Anything.
She was tired of not having the right equipment or enough time
to complete a task. It felt as if the entire
Delta Quadrant were out to get her. "Report."
Captain Janeway's voice came clearly through
the communications system of the bucking shuttlecraft.
Torres almost snapped to attention, a habit she
had thought lost until she met Janeway.
Torres glanced at the viewscreen. The asteroids
surrounded their small ship like Cardassians around a
helpless Bajoran. What had been a
vision of hope a few hours ago was now a symbol
of frustration. "The subspace forces that tore this
planet into an asteroid belt are still at work," she
said, trying not to let that frustration into her voice.
She wasn't as 2 THE ESCAPE successful at
it as Tuvok. But then she sometimes felt like she was
all emotion while Tuvok was all intellect.
"I'm not sure -- how much longer this craft can stand
the punishment and I've found no way to block the
disturbance." "Thirty seconds to target,"
Tuvok said. "I would suggest then, B'Elanna,
that you and Mr. Tavok return to the ship. We will
determine how to get the ore from here." "Captain, this
will probably be our only chance." Tuvok glanced
at her, eyebrows raised in warning. She still
wasn't used to the strictness of the command structure on
a Starfleet vessel. "Twenty seconds," he
said. "It's your call, B'Elanna. But I
don't want to lose two officers on a mission this
minor." B'Elanna opened her mouth to retort when
Tavok grabbed her arm. He shook his head.
  No one seemed to understand how important this
mission was to her. They needed the ore desperately for
repairs to Voyager. She needed the ore. She was
the one who worked two and three shifts
straight juryrigging all the equipment. If the
captain had had to do all that work, she would never have
called this mission minor.
  The shuttle continued to rock in the subspace
turbulence. Tuvok's steady hand kept them away
from the larger asteroids, but the tiny ones pelted the
shields.
  "Captain, just a few more seconds-was
  The interior lights of the shuttle dimmed for a 3
  moment and B'Elanna's fingers flew over the
control board. On the viewscreen, a large
asteroid loomed in front of them. "Report," the
captain said.
  The subspace turbulence was damaging the shuttle
in ways B'Elanna didn't have time to fix. They
were losing power and life support. "The shuttle is
not responding easily to my comcommands," Tuvok
said. B'Elanna cursed under her breath. If they
didn't turn back now, they might never get the
chance. The ore was important, but it wasn't worth
losing the shuttle.
  Or their lives.
  "Let's get out of here," she said.
  Tuvok nodded once as if any more movement would
cause him to lose his precious control.
He was hunched forward as if he could move the
shuttle with the force of his will. Within seconds, he had
the craft turned. But it bounced and rolled. The
turbulence seemed almost worse now that they were heading
out of the field. Above Torres, something in the
communica- tions system released a slow, steady,
irritating whine. The lights dimmed again, then went
out. The darkness in the craft made her clench her hand
into a fist. Her left hand. She was still playing the
controls with her right.
  "Auxiliary power on," she said. The cabin
lights flickered and came back on much dimmer
than before. "Shields at only twenty percent.
Don't hit any- thing too big."
  "With the shields at twenty percent, even a
small impact could prove disastrous." Tuvok
spoke the obvious with the sincerity of a man giving a
speech before the Federation. Next time, she would ask for
Paris. He at least would not have the need to comment on every
statement she made. She leaned forward herself. The
subspace turbulence had somehow grown worse. It
was as if they were fighting back against a very real
current where before they had been going with it. The
shuttle rattled like a child's toy. It was coming apart.
  "Captain," Torres said. "Life
support is failing. The shuttle is
disintegrating. Request you put a tractor beam
on us."
  "Done," Janeway said.
  Now even Tavok was sweating.
  His fingers flew over the controls as fast as
B'Elanna's. Again the ship was buffeted by a wave
of subspace disturbance, and then a loud crash echoed
through the shuttle.
  "What-T"
  The lights went out again, then came back on.
Sparks flew over both officers and the air filled
with a thick smoke that smelled of burning insulation.
  "That rock was 3.5 inches in diameter,"
Tuvok said in a matter-of-fact way. "Shields
at five percent." B'Elanna willed the
shuttle forward. Instead of a fight to get into the
belt, they were now in a race to get out. "I'm doing
all I can, but I can't divert any more power. There
simply isn't any$99
  Again the ship rocked and a smash echoed through the
cabin. B'Elanna winced at the red light blinking
on her console. "Hull breach in the rear cabin.
We're sealed in."
  The pressure door behind them slammed
shut.
  "That one was .53 inches," Tuvok said.
  B'Elanna took a deep breath. Tuvok's
calm seemed at times to almost be infectious. She
let- the level of her voice fall. "I'm
holding five percent screens, but all life
support is gone."
  "B'Elanna. Mr. Tuvok." The captain's
voice filled the smoky cabin. "As soon as we
have a tractor on the shuttle, we'll beam you out."
  The rattling of the hull and what seemed like every part
inside it had become deafening. Tuvok's expert
piloting kept them from the larger asteroids, and five
percent screens at least blocked the smaller dust
bits. But again something collided with the ship and sent it
rocking. "Twenty seconds," the captain said.
  "I hope we have twenty seconds,"
B'Elanna said to herself, She wiped sweat from her
eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. "I'm shutting
down the engines and rerouting all power to the forward
screens."
  "Logical," Tavok said. "But wait for my
mark. I will aim for the clearest possible path."
  He made a slight evasive action and something
else crashed near the rear. "Now!"
  Her fingers flew over the controls as she put a
power to the shields. Beside her Tuvok's hands stopped
and hovered over his dead panel. "Sixty percent
on the forward screens."
  "Not enough." He pointed at the viewscreen
ahead and the shuttle-sized rock hurtling at them.
  "Voyager!" B'Elanna shouted. "Lock on
that asteroid directly in our path and blow it out of
space. Quick!"
  "We see it." The captain sounded as calm as
Tuvok. Didn't they feel the stress?
  EV-ERY ounce of power B'Elanna could find in
the poor, beat-up shuttle she directed at the
forward shields, but she knew it would never be enough.
That piece of rock was far, far too large.
  Then, at what seemed to be the very last instant,
she felt the tingle of a transporter. As she
vanished she glanced at the viewscreen. It showed a
phaser beam hitting the rough surface of the asteroid
square in the center.
  Captain Kathryn Janeway stood in the center
of the bridge, feet apart, hands clasped behind her
back. She was watching the asteroid explode on the
viewscreen. The tractor beam around the tiny
shuttle barely pulled it clear.
  "Both officers on board, Captain." Ensign
Hoffman's mellifluous voice sounded tinny through
her comm link from the transporter room. Janeway
let out the breath she'd been holding. That had been just
a little too close. So far from home, each routine
action became a risk. She had hesitated before
sending her experienced officers on a mission like this
one, but now she was glad she had. She would
definitely have lost two of the more inexperienced crew.
  "Direct hit on the asteroid," said Ensign
Harry Kim. For all his inexperience, Kim was
already a good officer. "The shuttle is out of
danger."
  "Nice job, Ensign," Janeway said. Then
she turned slightly to Lieutenant Tom Paris.
"And nice job getting us in close. A fine
piece of flying. Your quick action and skill may have
saved their lives."
  Paris let a smile cross his face without
taking his eyes off his board. "Thank you,
Captain."
  Janeway held her position for a moment, the
rigidity of her stance helping her control the
fluttery feeling she had each time she remembered that
the Federation Starship Voyager was all alone
in the Delta Quadrant. She had flown missions
without backup in the past, but she had always known that within
a few days at warp speed, she could be at a
Federation station or near a friendly planet. Not only
was Voyager alone here, it was alone in uncharted
space.
  She knew that fact bothered the others, too, although
they never spoke of it to her. Her first officer,
Chakotay, simply wasn't the type. He stood
behind Paris, as if he didn't trust Paris's
expert flying. The two had an odd relationship,
constantly- bickering, and yet beneath it lay respect
for each other's abilities. She had been lucky
in both of them. She needed rebels and risk-takers
out here. The average Starfleet officer would have had
to learn some of the skills that came to these men as
naturally as breathing.
  She had been fortunate too in young Kim. He
was so inexperienced in spaceflight that he adopted the
attitude of the people around him. He was sharp and
  decisive, traits she valued more than she cared
to name. The bridge crew had returned to its morning
business. Two other ensigns bent over the science
station, deciphering information that came from the asteroid
belt. A lieutenant stood in Tuvok's
place near security, awaiting his return.
  The expedition to the asteroid belt had provided the
morning's excitement and nothing more.
  Or so it seemed.
  The expedition had pointed out several problems that
Janeway had to deal with immediately.
  "I want all senior officers in the briefing
room at 0930," Janeway said as she headed for
her ready room to prepare. "Commander Chakotay, you
have the bridge until then."
  The briefing room, like the rest of the ship, was done
in gunmetal gray. Like everything else on
Voyager, the room was designed for speed as well
as comfort. Janeway felt each time she walked into the
room that decisions made here would be swift,
incisive, and important. The soft conversation
stopped as soon as she entered. Neelix and Kes
sat on the far side of the table. Janeway's gaze
was always drawn to their bright nonregulation clothing.
They had shown their worth as guides and companions,
and she did not regret bringing them on board.
Chakdtay sat in his regular spot to the, left of the
captain's chair. He was bea solid man,
sturdy, like 9
  Voyager herself. Paris sat on the other
side of the table from Chakotay. Paris was not solid
or sturdy, but mercurial and occasionally
brilliant, hiding depths behind a soft, sardonic
manner.
  Finally her gaze rested on the two shuttle
passengers. Tuvok sat calm and seemingly
undisturbed by the morning's events. She was
relieved to see him. She relied on his guidance more
than she cared to admit. She also relied on
B'Elddanna Torres. The chief engineer was
smiling, a reaction that Janeway would not have
expected. It seemed as if the near brush with death
had lightened B'Elanna's outlook on life a
little this morning.
  Janeway took her place beside Chakotay.
  "It seems," she said without preamble, "that we're
not going to recover any ore from this asteroid belt.
I will expect a full report on what happened
as well as on the status of the shuttlecraft as
soon as possible." "You will have it within the hour,"
Tuvok said. "Captain," B'Elanna said, "I
already have Lieutenant Carey going over the
shuttlecraft and starting what repairs he can."
  "Good," Janeway said. She took a deep
breath, then leaned forward slightly. "This
morning's battle with the asteroid belt
exemplifies the seriousness of our problems. We
are short of most parts, the repticators are
functioning only on an emergency basis, and the warp
drive is down over fifty percent. Is that a
fairly accurate assessment?" She looked
directly at B'Elanna, who for some reason
looked relieved. B'Elanna must have thought 10
  that Janeway would do nothing about the engineering
problems. "Actually," B'Elanna said, "I
don't think I can honestly guarantee more than
another day of warp power until we find or
manufacture some replacement parts. And that's if
we take it easy on the drives. If we push
them I wouldn't count on more than ten minutes."
  Janeway nodded. "I agree, I'm afraid.
I just-was "You need parts for the engines of this ship?"
Neelix asked. Apparently he hadn't understood
what they had been talking about before. "Captain, you
should have said so. Didn't I promise to take care
of YOUTI
  "Yes, Neelix," Janeway said, trying
to keep the amusement out of her voice. "But you said that
you weren't certain what type of ore we needed-was
"Ore." He made a chopping motion with his
small, mottled hand. "I'm not talking about ore.
You need parts for your ship and I know a place
nearby where you can get plenty."
  As if on cue every head in the room turned toward
the short alien. He smiled and seemed to grow some
under the attention. Kes proudly patted him on the
leg.
  "Do go on," Janeway said.
  Neelix laughed and squeezed Kes's hand.
"I'll take you to Alcawell. If you allow me
to give you the coordinates, Captain-was
"Alcawell?" Paris asked. With that one word he
managed to imply all sorts of questions. He also
made II
  it clear that the captain would not take coordinates
until those questions were answered.
  Janeway leaned back. The interaction among the
crew had become predictable, and helpful.
  Neelix never minded having the floor.
"Alcawell translates roughly into the Station. But
it's not a station. It's a planet. Many races in
this area believe it to be sacred, a sort of home
of the gods." He put an arm around Kes, almost as
if his performance were for her and her alone. "But I've
been there. It's no home for anyone."
  "What's there that would help us?" Janeway
asked. "A lot of old ships. A looootttt of
ships." Neelix smiled. "More ships than you have
ever seen in your entire life."
  "I doubt that," Paris said softly.
  Neelix turned toward him, as if he needed
to convince everyone. "Alcawell's been abandoned
longer than any race in this area has been
traveling space. They have so many ships that I'm
sure one will help us. We can go in and take the parts
we need out of the old wrecks. Or, perhaps, get the
metals we need to make our own parts."
  Interesting, but dangerous. Janeway leaned her
head back on the chair. "You're telling us that you
know of an old spaceport with a few abandoned
ships? And no one has touched these ships?"
  Neelix shrugged. "Who can tell if anyone
has been near them? There are more ships than you can
count. Believe me, a few parts won't be
missed." "We do not steal," Chakotay said. The
firmness in his voice made Neelix shrink a little.
  He frowned as if considering, then grinned.
"Once you see the place I doubt you would call it
stealing. More like salvaging."
  "Under your definition of salvage?"
Paris asked. "Or ours?" This time Neelix
ignored him. Neelix fixed his catlike gaze
on Janeway. She, at least, wanted to see the
station.
  "To what race did this base belong?" Tuvok
asked. "I don't know," Neelix said, "but
they've been gone for centuries." Ilivok
templed his fingers and tapped them against his lips.
"If it's such a good place to salvage," he
asked slowly, "why haven't you gone back there?"
  Neelix pulled Kes closer. She watched him
in her calm, intent way. When it looked like he
wasn't going to answer, she nodded at him to continue.
He tilted his head, raised his bushy eyebrows, and
shrugged again. "Honestly, I-was He sighed and
dipped his head so that they couldn't see his expression.
"I think the station's haunted."
  Paris snorted and sat back in his chair as if
he had expected something like that all along. Tuvok
didn't move, but Janeway could sense his sudden
dismissal of the plan.
  Only B'Elanna still looked interested. "But
there are a lot of old ships." Neelix brought his
head up. "Yes."
  "Abandoned ships."
  "Yes.
  "Captain," B'Elanna said. "If we-was
  But Neelix interrupted her. "Captain, if
there aren't 13
  more ships abandoned on Alcawell than you would
care to count, you can leave me behind with the ghosts."
  "And me too," Kes said softly.
  "Thank you, my love," Neelix said,
squeezing her hand. He turned to the others.
"Isn't she remarkable?"
  Janeway made a decision. They couldn't afford
to overlook any opportunity. "I think we should
see Alcawell for ourselves. What say you, Mr.
Tuvok?" "I would agree, Captain."
  Janeway glanced at her first officer.
Chakotay nodded in agreement. Satisfied,
Janeway stood. "Neelix, give Lieutenant
Paris the coordinates for Alcawell.
B'Elanna, I would like to get there quickly but without
further damaging the warp engines-. What do you
recommend?" "Warp one," B'Elanna said.
  Janeway turned to Paris and nodded. "Get us
under way, mister." Paris slid his chair back and
motioned for Neelix to follow him onto the bridge.
  As they left Janeway faced her
remaining officers. "Salvage or not, we need the
parts. At this point we're in no position to be
proud."
  Then she smiled as she stood. "Besides, who's
afraid of a few ghosts?"
  CAPTAIN JANEWAY SAT AT HER
DESK IN THE READY ROOM, going over
reports on a padd. At times, she wished that she
could jettison the busy work associated with the
captaincy. But for each bit of routine that she
dispensed with, a bit of home went with it. She had
already made decisions that would never have been made in the
Alpha Quadrant.
  Occasionally she glanced at the long windows showing a
view of the stars. Sometimes she wished the positions were
familiar. Sometimes she was pleased they were not.
  "Captain." Ensign Kim's voice broke
her concentration. "We are over the Station."
  "Excellent, Ensign," she said.
  But he didn't wait for her comto finish. "And
I think you need to take a look at this."
  She smiled at the tone of fascination and awe in
Harry Kim's voice. Perhaps there was something
to Neelix's wild claims. She hoped so.
Voyager had limped to Alcawell and
Janeway had worried that she was using the last of their
power for a wild chase after nothing.
  She placed the padd on her desk and stood,
brushing her hair with the heel of one hand, making
certain not a strand was out of place. Then she left the
ready room and stepped onto the bridge.
  Paris sat immobile at conn, Chakotay was
sitting on the edge of the captain's chair, and
Tuvok stood at his station in tactical. All
stared, transfixed, at the main viewscreen. Her
gaze followed theirs, and her mouth opened
involuntarily. She shut it quickly, glad no one
had seen her. But the feeling that had caused the
reaction remained. Row after row, kilometer after
kilometer of ships filled the viewscreen. They
went off the edge of the screen in all directions.
She made herself limit down her focus. Each
ship seemed to be identical to the others, round with
three slender tripod legs, as a sort of landing
gear. The ships were spaced an even distance from each
other. She pulled her focus back to the entire
screen again. The rows of ships seemed to go on forever
in all directions. How was this possible? She was
having real trouble grasping the scale of what she was
seeing. They looked almost like children's toys
lined up neatly, Yet they were all real. Very real.
-
  "Captain." Kim was standing in operations, his fingers
poised over the screen controls. "From what 1 16
  can tell, this is the largest of four-ah, I
suppose you could call them bases. Or maybe
ports? There seems to be a base or port in the
middle of each of the continents on this planet."
  "Are there life sips?" Chakotay asked.
  Kim looked away from the screen, tapped the ops
panel before him, and read the results. Then he
shook his head. "Nothing above rodent size."
"Captain," Tuvok said. "There are extensive
remains of a humanoid civilization scattered over
the planet, but nothing as preserved as these ships
appear to be. There are also large building ruins
scattered between the ships at regular intervals. No
ship is very far from what was once a building. A very
efficient design and use of space."
  "What's the size of this?" Janeway asked, not
taking her gaze from the screen. "I have comno sense of
scale."
  Tuvok nodded. "This facility alone is twice
the size of the Federation's Luna Station. One-eighth
of Vulcan would be covered in these ships if
all four bases, as Mr. Kim called them, were
combined."
  "This base, or station, is square," Janeway
said, trying to put this in a perspective she
understood. "You're telling me, Tuvok, that if we
put the northwestern comer of this base in Federation
Headquarters in San Francisco, the edges of the
base would stretch south to the center of Los
Angeles and east to Reno?"
  Paris whistled.
  "Yes, Captain," Tuvok said, "although I
doubt the ships would line up a tilde neatly on
Earth." He took a deep breath. Janeway
recognized the pause. He made
  one just like it each time he imparted information that had an
element of speculation to it. "And one more thing. These
ships were never meant to fly, at least not by any means
we know of."
  "What?" Janeway spun to look at Tuvok.
His steady gaze met hers. He understood her sudden
excitement. Neelix had led them to a technology
they hadn't seen before. Janeway slapped her comm
badge. "B'Elanna, ard you studying the ships
onscreen?"
  B'Elanna had spent the trip in
Engineering, coaxing all the power she could out of the warp
engines. "Yes, Captain."
  "Do you have any idea what they were?"
  "Not from here, Captain. Without a hands-on
inspection I couldn't even tell you what their power
source was, let alone what their function might have
been. But I can confirm that the metals in the ships"
bodies and engines are ones we need for repairs."
  "Captain." Kim had moved to the science station.
"The ruins around the ports are layered as far back
as I can get readings. And this is a very, very old
planet."
  "So," Janeway said, turning back to stare at
the incredible sight of square kilometers of ships
parked side by side, "we're talking about the home
of a very old race that moved on, or maybe died out
a long time agoTs "It would seem that way,"
Chakotay said.
  "Things are not always as they seem," Tuvok said.
66 Go on."
  "There is no logic in this situation," Tuvok
said. "The ships are obviously quite old, yet they
are in a better state of repair than any of the
surrounding Is
  ruins, including the buildings spaced
evenly throughout the port." "Your conclusion?"
Janeway asked.
  "I have no conclusion," Tuvok said. "But it is
possible that the owners of the ships and the inhabitants of the
ruins may not be one and the same." Janeway nodded.
She paused a moment, then made a decision. She
again tapped her comm badge. "B'Elanna, I would
like you to study one of the ships firsthand."
  "Aye, aye, Captain." B'Elanna sounded
eager. Janeway smiled. She envied the Engineer
her mobility. Janeway herself would have loved to be the
first to visit Alcawell.
  She turned to Ensign Kim. "Find Neelix.
I want the two of you to join her." Beside her
Chakotay nodded at her choice of away team in
agreement. Kim would keep Torres level.
Neelix would go along for local information in case
they found anything on the old ships he might
recognize. Kim headed across the bridge for the
door. He too clearly felt the same
excitement. If this station was a's promising as it
looked, they might discover some new technology
to help them find a way home. Or clearly at
least give them the raw materials to make
repairs. "And Mr. Kim."
  He stopped and turned to face her. "Yes,
CaptainThat' "Your job is to guard her back
while she works and keep Neelix out of trouble.
Understand?"
  He smiled slightly. "Understood, Captain."
  Janeway said to Tuvok, "You have five minutes
to search that haystack down there for a working ship. I
Is
  want you to be ready to send them to that ship when they
gather in the transporter room."
  Then she turned back to stare at the viewscreen.
Ships, parked in neat rows, extended beyond visible
range. Thousands and thousands of ships. "They're
never going to believe this when we get home," she
said.
  I ,
  CHAPTER
  THE TRANSPORTER DROPPED THEM ON A
HARD, CONCRETE-LIKE surface near the south
edge of the Station. Cold wind cut at
B'Elanna's uniform and bits of sand nipped her
face. The air smelled stale, and her mouth dried
almost instantly from the total lack of humidity. The
entire place had a feeling of age and death that
chilled her far more than did the biting wind.
She glanced quickly around, then just stopped and stared at
the parked ships in complete amazement. One after
another, side by side, the ships stretched into the
distance like images in facing mirrors. At first
glance they all seemed to be exactly the same, and
she could tell from the dozens that towered around them that they
were very, very old. Some had weathered the 21
  years better than others in the constant wind and
sand. To her left one had tipped slightly where its
short, stemlike landing gear had given way. When
fully upright, the ships were held about four meters
above the ground on tripod legs. A fairly
gentle-sloped ramp extended down from the center of
each ship like a giant tongue. They'd have no
problems getting inside the ships, because they were all
standing open. She looked slowly around, studying the
wrecks. One ship had a small hole in its
side that looked as if something inside had exploded
and ruptured the gray hull. But all in all the
ships had lasted much, much better than the ruins of a
building a hundred meters away. She couldn't
tell for sure, but she thought she could see faint
markings on the concrete surface scoured by the years
of sand. The markings seemed to lead from the bottom of
each ship's ramp toward the building.
  The view from Voyager had given her a sense of
scale for the station itself, but not for the ships. Each ship was
about two times larger than a Federation
shuttlecraft. They were like slightly flattened round
balls. Even on their short legs they towered over
her. The landing legs alone were twice her width,
yet under the weight of the ships they looked thin. She
did a slow, full circle turn just taking in the
ships that hung precariously above and around her and
stretched off into the distance in all directions. Large
alien machinery, toppling under the pressure of time and
wind, in a very alien setting.
  Drifts of sand had formed around the bases of a few
of the nearby ships and the ramps leading up into them. The
wind made a strange whistling sound that sent shivers
down B'Elanna's back.
  She flipped open her tricorder. Ensign
Kim did the same. The best way to fight the oddness
of this place was to focus on work, and that was exactly
whateashe would do.
  "Ghosts. Spirits. The undead. The past walks
here,"" Neelix said, almost shouting to be heard over
the wind. "Can't you feel it?" He wrapped his arms
tight around himself. "I don't know why I'm even
here. And it's cold. Very cold. Maybe
I should beam up and get us all coats."
  "You're staying with us," B'Elanna said,
her'voice discrisp. She didn't need any
distractions.
  Neelix huffed, but said nothing-
  Her scan showed no life signs and no obvious
traps. Nothing but an abandoned field of old
ships that were never intended to fly through air or space.
Strange. Everything about this place was strange. She
turned to her right and did a more careful scan of the ship
Tuvok had picked out for them. It seemed to be a
good choice. The hull was the same dull weathered
gray as the rest, but she could see no obvious
damage. Her readings indicated that this ship was no
different from the rest, but somehow it felt newer than the
others.
  "Let's see what the inside looks like," she
said."
  "Good," Kim said. "This blowing sand really
hurts."
  She glanced over at him and Neelix. Both had
turned their backs to the wind and were protecting their
eyeand Getting out of the wind would be a good idea.
  Holding her tricorder in front of her and
scanning for any signs of traps or
life-forms, she moved to the ramp under the center of the
ship and looked up. The incline was gentle and the ramp
was grooved to keep users from slipping. The door at
the top was wide open and B'Elanna could see a
wall beyond with a faded red arrow pointing to the-right. A
small drift of sand had formed around the base of the
ramp.
  "This had a lot of traffic once," Kim said,
scanning his tricorder over the ramp.
  "Traffic?" Neelix asked, looking around as
if he could see the traffic nearby.
  6'Passengers would be my guess," Kim said.
"The design and the wear patterns indicate this
boarding ramp was well used."
  "Used for what is the question," B'Elanna said.
Kim shrugged. "This place reminds me of a
shuttleport back home. Sort of." He kept
staring at his tricorder.
  66 It reminds me how much I hate being
cold," Neelix said. "And how my quarters are
warm and dry$99
  B'Elanna walked up the wide ramp to the
opening, holding her tricorder in front of her.
She wanted to draw her phaser, but knew that would
seem stupid under the circumstances. Nothing
had threatened them. There didn't seem to be anything
on this planet 24
  et that could threaten them. But she still would rather have a
phaser in her hand than a tricorder the way her
stomach was twisting. She would just feel better.
  "The ship's empty," Kim said.
  "Of course it's empty," Neelix said. "These
are all abandoned ships." He stepped around Kim
and B'Elanna, and before either of them could stop him. he
walked calmly inside and down the wide corridor
indicated by the faded arrow.
  Indirect lighting flickered on marking the way as
he walked. "Neelix!" B'Elanna shouted.
  "It's warm in here!" he said.
  "Amazing," Kim said, studying his tricorder.
"Lights and power source still functioning after all this
time."
  "Yeah," B'Elanna said, scanning her
tricorder for any signs of danger before following
Neelix.
  The passageway was about ten meters long and
turned sharply to the left into a large room with bench
seats around the outside and other seats attached
to chairs in groupings throughout the room. The room was
larger than some Maquis ships. Over a
hundred passengers could fit comfortably in this
space.
  Neelix stood in the middle with his hands open.
"See? Empty, just as I told you."
  "There are no other rooms," Kim said. "How
did they pilot this thing?" "All empty tin
cans," Neelix said. "Good for salvage, huh?"

  "There isn't even an engine room," Kim said.
"Or "for that matter, an engine."
  "Just don't touch anything," B'Elanna said,
staring directly at Neelix. "At least until
we determine what these ships were and what controls
them." Neelix sighed and sat down on the nearest
chair, leaning back and putting his feet up. "At
least we're out of the wind in here."
  "Look at this," Kim said, pointing at a
blinking red sign over the passageway they had just
come in. The sign was in an unidentifiable
language with a numberlike sequence tlbbat kept
changing. "It started blinking when Neelix sat
down."
  "See if you can figure out what Jt says,"
B'Elanna said. She tapped her comm badge.
"Away team to Voyager-
  "Voyager here," Janeway's voice answered.
  "We're inside. No signs of life. The
ship still has an automatic power source of some
sort that we somehow triggered on entering."
  "Can you tell what the ships were used for?"
Janeway asked. "Passenger transport of some
type. The insides are nothing more than a large
room with benches and chairs. But I can't imagine
where these could go. Or for that matter, how. It will take
me some time to figure this out." "Pastenger?"
Janeway said, more to herself than B'Elanna.
"Well, be careful and report as soon as you have
something."
  "Understood," B'Elanna said.
  "Any luck, Mr. Kim?" B'Elanna
askedi
  "It looks like a time sequence to me, but I'm
operating on guesswork." "Neelix,"
B'Elanna said, turning to the short alien lounging
with his eyes half closed. "Do you recognize that
language?" She pointed to the flashing sign over the
entry. -
  He opened one eye and studied the message, then
sat up. "I have a vague memory of something
similar to that. It's a very dead language,
though. That much I can tell you."
  "But can you read it?" B'Elanna asked. She
didn't have time for games. He shrugged. "I think
it says Please Take a Seat. "And the
numbers?" Kim said.
  "Just numbers," Neelix said. He leaned back
and closed his eyes. "Let me know when you need my
help again. I will be napping."
  B'Elanna shook her head at Neelix and
turned to Kim. "Link with Voyager's computer,
feed-that information into it, and see what comes up. I'm
going to look for the-was
  The number sequence on the sign over Kim's
head stopped and the room's lights flashed once. A
scraping noise echoed through the ship and it shuddered
slightly.
  "The ramp is coming up!" Kim shouted and started
for the door. "Wait!" B'Elanna's command stopped
him in his tracks. "Stay together." She slapped her
comm badge. "Voyager. The ship is coming to life and
closing up. Be ready to beam us out of here on my
mark."
  "Understood," Tuvok's calm voice answered
back. "We have a transporter lock on you."
  "Mr. Kim," B'Elanna said.
"See if you can find what's causing this. We'll
stay as long as we can. Neelix, help him." She
scanned with her tricorder, but couldn't find the
ship's power source. There had to be one. Somewhere.
A huge clang echoed through the ship. The clang was
followed by painful screech as of metal scraping
against metal without lubrication. -- "The door is
closed and the ship's lifting off the surface," Kim
said, panic in his voice.
  Then the air shimmered slightly and the ship settled
back to the surface with a slight thud.
  "The door is opening," Kim said. Over his head
the sign again started to flash.
  "Fast trip that one," Neelix said. He sounded
calm, but he was standing now and had somehow moved right
next to B'Elanna. B'Elanna studied her
tricorder, but all the readings indicated that nothing
had changed with the ship. It had simply closed the
door, lifted less than a meter off the ground,
then settled back into place. But why? Had the
trip been aborted? And how had it even lifted?
There were no signs of antigravity units on this
ship, or even engines. Nothing but a huge waiting
room.
  Suddenly B'Elanna realized something was
very different. A draft of almost hot air blew in
the corridor and the light from the direction of the door
looked brighter. -
  Kim had already noticed and had his tricoirder as
  pointed at the entrance to the ship. "There's something
wrong here," he said softly.
  B'Elanna turned her tricorder in the same
direction and got the answer. The air coming in the open
door was totally different from when they had come in. It
had more organisms in it. And humidity. And it was
warmer. Considerably warmer.
  With Kim and Neelix at her side, she moved
cautiously toward the entrance. When they reached the
point at the top of the ramp where they could see out, they
stopped.
  And stared.
  "Oh, my," Neelix said.
  "Where are we?" Kim asked.
  Spread out in front of them was the same vast open
area, only now most of the ships were gone. The
pavement was covered with fresh colored lines. The
buildings looked new. Tall, thin humanoids
walked at different speeds to and from the ships and the
building.
  The people dressed in bright greens, reds, and
purples. Most wore blue or yellow hats that
somehow failed to clash. Some humanoids walked
alone. Others walked in groups. Some carried what
appeared to be luggage, while others carried nothing.
  Ten ships down, a door silently closed and a
ramp pulled up. The ship lifted off the pavement
and vanished.
  None of the nearby humanoids seemed to notice
at all. B'Elanna took in the scene for a moment
and then 29
  tapped her comm badge. "Away team
to Voyager. Come in, Voyager. -- No answer.
  Kim quickly adjusted his tricorder and then in coma
cracking voice told her what she already feared.
  "Voyager is no longer in orbit."

  JANEWAY DID NOT LIKE THE FACT THAT
THREE OF HER CREW members were inside a
ship whose power had just come on. She stood in the center
of the bridge, Chakotay beside her, Paris at
conn, and stared at the viewscreen as if it
provided answers. It did not. The view was the
same: row after row of ships extended far into the
distance. If she had not known that her people were aboard the
ship directly in the center of the screen, she
would comn have been able to discern their presence at all.
  Tuvok was monitoring their progress. "The ship
is lifting," he said. Janeway hit her comm
badge. Ensign Hoffman was the 'best
transporter operator they had. If anyone could
get them out quickly, Ensign Hoffman could.
  "Transporter room," Janeway said. "Get
them out of there."
  "Aye, sir." Ensign Hoffman always
resorted to Starfleet protocol when rattled.
  Janeway was rattled herself. She didn't want
any of her crew to get hurt. Who would have thought that
ancient ships would have started so easily? Or so
mysteriously?
  "The ship has disappeared," Paris said. His
normally sardonic voice had an element of
surprise in it.
  "Confirmed, Captain." Even Tuvok sounded a
bit odd. He clearly hadn't expected this either.
  Janeway could see that the ship had disappeared.
What had been an unbroken row of tiny circular
ships a moment before was now a row of tiny circular
ships with one ship-sized break in the middle.
"Transporter room?" Janeway said. "Ensign
Hoffman, did you get them?" Silence
greeted her. Janeway hit her comm badge again.
"Ensign Hoffman! Report!"
  Chakotay looked at Janeway. His broad
features were stem. There was no comfort in his
expression.
  "I'm sorry, Captain." Hoffman's soft
voice had a note of regret. "The link was
broken. I can't seem to get a fix on them." .
Janeway turned to Tuvok. "Can you trace them?
Where'd the ship go?" Tuvok's hands were already playing
the board. Chakotay sprinted to the science station, and
Paris was manipulating information on conn. 611
can't trace them," Chakotay said. 32
  That's not possible," said Paris.
  "It happened," Tuvok said. "Therefore it is
possible."
  "Save the debate for another time, gentlemen,"
Janeway said. "Tell me what has happened
to my away team."
  Chakotay shook his head. "I'm afraid I
can't, Captain."
  "Captain," Paris said. "That ship and the three
aboard no longer exist in this place and time."
  "They no longer exist?" Janeway asked.
"Are they dead?" "I don't know,
Captain," Tuvok said, "although that is doubtful.
The ship vanished. They vanished with it."
  "I know that," Janeway said. "I want to know
what happened to it." "Believe me, Captain, we
do too," Paris said. He was staring at the board in
front of him as if it could provide answers. "It
was not destroyed or transported by any means we
know," Chakotay said. "It is not cloaked and it
did not leave the planet in any normal
fashion." "So what happened to it?" Janeway
asked.
  Tuvok looked up and held her gaze for a moment
before he answered. "It just simply ceased to exist."
  "Gentlemen, I do not accept that explanation.
My away team has disappeared. We will find them."
Janeway climbed the steps to the science station herself.
As she stepped beside Chakotay, he made a startled
sound. 33
  "Captain," all three men said together. Paris
finished the sentence. "The ship's back."
  Janeway looked at the viewscreen. The tiny
hole in the rows of ships was gone. She let out the
breath she had been holding. She tapped her comm
badge.
  "Ensign Hoffman, beam that team out of
there," she said. "Wait, Captain," Chakotay
said. "Better belay that order."
  "Hold, Ensign." Janeway turned
to'Chakotay. "This had better be good." "There's
only one person on board," Chakotay said.
"Humanoid," Tuvok added.
  "But no one we know," Paris said.
  "No one we know?" Janeway asked. She
moved in beside Chakotay. The evidence at the science
station was incontrovertible. The ship had left
seconds earlier with all three members of the away
team. It had reappeared with a single person on
board, but that person wasn't human or a member
of any other race the Federation had ever met.
  The away team had completely vanished. Not a
trace of them was left.
  The warmth of the day and the heat coming off the concrete
surface below the ramp contrasted sharply with the memory
Torres had of this same place just a few minutes
before. Cold winds and sand had blown thin air through
thousands of abandoned ships. The sky had been a
dull gray above the ship graveyard and the sun not much
more than a low glow on the horizon. 34
  Now the day was warm, the light yellow, the sky
clear, and the sun directly overhead. The
ships all seemed to be new, at least those that were
present. And in a place where before no one had
existed, not one living thing, now teemed thousands of
colorfully dressed humanoids, calmly going
about their business between the ships and the buildings. These
humanoids all appeared to belong to the same race:
they were as tall as most Klingons, but had larger chins
and smaller foreheads. They seemed, however, to vary as
much as Klingons varied. Like Earthlings, though, these people
had different-color hair and a finer bone
structure. Their clothing was as varied as their
personal appearances. But nothing about them gave any
clue as to what they used the ships for.
  B'Elanna set the shock of change
aside-getting lost in the reaction would do her no
good-and took a hard look up at the underside of the
ship they had arrived in. It was clearly the same
one, old and very weathered. The ships around them seemed
much newer. She turned to Kim. His eyes were
wide, his skin unnaturally pale. He had looked
this same way when she had first met him, in the
Ocampa doctor's rooms. Superficially
composed and yet clearly scared to death.
  She knew he could function in strange
circumstances. Despite his youth, he had
strength. The secret was to tap it.
  "Find out where we are," she said, her voice almost
a whisper, as if she was afraid someone might hear
them.
  Kim glanced down at his tricorder. "How do
I even start?" he asked, also very softly.
  "Start with the ships beside us, then go to the people."
B'Elanna really didn't really care what order
he worked in, so she had given him the order that
seemed the simplest. Although here nothing seemed
simple. And they all would have to be thinking clearly,
and acting quickly. Behind her, Neelix hadn't moved
at all. His tiny, spotted hands grasped the edge
of the door. His knuckles were white. "You all
right?" she asked. "Ghosts," he said. "Look at
all the ghosts. I told you this place was haunted."
  "I doubt those are ghosts," B'Elanna said.
"Mr. Kim?" Kim nodded. "They are very real.
Everything here is real." He sounded as if he had
hoped he was dreaming. No such luck.
  TW-O men and a woman, all wearing bright green
smocks over purple pantaloons, stopped in
front of a ship three down. They were talking and
laughing. The woman had silver hair piled over a
meter above her head. One of the men motioned
at it. She nodded and took the hair off, revealing
a head of black hair closely cut to her
scalp. Then she tucked the silver wig under her arm
and climbed the boarding ramp to the ship. The men
followed her.
  "Clearly the ship took us somewhere,"
B'Elanna said. "And it used a method faster
than any we know. Kim, find out where, and how far
away from Voyager we are.
  Kim silently did as he was told, his handsome
face a 36
  picture of concentration. B'Elanna wiped a
bead of sweat off her neck. Ten minutes ago she
was wishing she had worn a coat; now she wished she
had on her lighter uniform.
  "The surrounding star positions are the same,"
Kim said. He sounded uncertain. "Sort of."
  "'Sort or?," Torres asked.. "Can you be
a little more specific than "sort or?"
  He glanced up at her. She recognized the
look. She had seen it on his face when they were
walking through the Ocampa settlement underground, soon
after they had been forced to come to the Delta
Quadrant. He was still new enough to space travel
to find most things unbelievable. A
drawback some days. A benefit others. She
waited, uncertain which it would be this time. "I want
to say I'm looking at the same stars as I was before
we got onto the ship. We're still in the Delta
Quadrant, but-was "Mr. Kim," Torres said,
"I don't need an astronomy lesson. I
asked you to define 'sort of." Define it. This is
not an essay exam. This isn't even an exam.
It's a simple question."
  "But the answer's not that simple. The stars are
exactly where they should be, if they were younger. It's as
if-was He stopped, apparently unable to fini sh.
  B'Elanna understood. She didn't want to,
but she thought she understood. She quickly used her own
tricorder to do the figuring as Kim did the same.
Within a few seconds she had the answer.
  "Three hundred and ten thousand years," she said
softly. 37
  "What?" Neelix said. He had taken his hands
off the door and was wringing them together. "Three hundred
and ten thousand years what?" The edge of panic in his
voice echoed the feeling in B'Elanna's stomach.
She decided to ignore that feeling. It would get in
her way. She made her voice as calm as
Tavok's. She was beginning to understand how the
Vulcan and the captain managed to sound relaxed even
under stress. "We've jumped into the past of this
planet by three hundred and ten thousand years," she
said.
  "That's not possible," Neelix said. He moved
away from her until his back hit the frame of the
ship. Then he tugged on the flamboyant shirt he
wore. "Frankly, if it's all the same to you,
I would prefer to believe in ghosts. Yes. Let's
make all these people ghosts. Ghosts are a much better
idea than time travel, don't you agree"...ea@.
  Torres wasn't sure if she did agree.
Now that she was getting past her shock, she was finding
this situation fascinating. She was slowly starting
to understand just a part of what this huge facility was and she
was growingcomv, very impressed.
  These ships were time shuttles.
  All these people around them were traveling through time as if
it were commonplace. And from the looks of this station, it
was. Somehow they had boarded a working shuttle in the
far, dead future and got sent here, to this time.
  "I'm afraid that we have to rule out the ghosts,
Neelix, and accept time travel. It's our only
chance to get back home," Torres said. She
turned to KirLike "We 38
  I THE ESCAPE
  had to have done something to trigger this ship to jump. We
need to find that trigger."
  "How about if I just go back inside and wait for
you folks to come up with an answer. I missed a good
nap to be here. I wouldn't mind sleeping my way
through your solution. In fact, that sounds very good. I'm
going back inside now." Neelix backed through the
door, keeping his gaze on the strange people around him.
  "Don't touch anything," B'Elanna said. "Just
go back in and sit-was She stopped suddenly. A
clear picture went through her mind of Neelix
plopping down on the ship. "Check the seat that
Neelix sat in. There might be sensors in the
chairs."
  "Let's do it quickly," Neelix said, and nodded
in the direction of the bottom of the ramp. One of the
humanoids, a tall man wearing a bright orange
jump suit, stood with his hands on his hips looking
stem and slowly shaking his bead at them.
  At closer look B'Elanna could see that he
had bright blue eyes, set very wide on his face,
a nose that seemed almost smashed flat, and at least
eight fingers. The orange coveralls did very little
to mask his strength of upper body.
B'Elanna thought the size of him would compare well
to a Klingon warrior's.
  "You are not authorized to be here," the man said.
Torres replaced her tricorder and held out her
hands in what she hoped was a universal gesture of
conciliation. "We know," she said. "We-was "You have
to come to Control."
  "Actually," she said. "We'd rather go back. We
didn't expect-was 39
  "Your appearance here is a violation of Control
Ordinance 852.6l." "We're sorry," Kim
said. He glanced at B'Elanna. "We didn't
mean to. We accidentally triggered-was
  "Any eight-hundred violation requires the
presence of the violators at Control. If you
don't come with me voluntarily, we'll take you
by force." "We volunteer!" Neelix said, holding
up his hands as he came out of the ship. "We
volunteer, don't we, frsThat'
  Torres sighed. She never volunteered to get
into trouble, yet it always seemed to happen.
  "Let's move," the man said. "We need to deal
with this violation quickly. That ship has to be off the
platform in three hours. We're expecting the
Real Time ship to return then."
  Torres glanced at her companions, hoping they
understood better than she did. Kim shrugged.
Neelix had his hands above his head and was marching
forward, following the strange man. When Neelix
got off the ramp he stopped beside the man. He
barely came to the man's waist. Torres could see
Neelix's strangeness register on the man's
face; then it seemed to fade into unimportance.
  "Hurry," the man said. He whirled and walked
away as if he expected them to follow him.
  "It seems we have no choice," Torres said.
She indicated that Kim should be first behind the man in
orange. Neelix dropped into line next and she
brought up the rear, carefully marking in her mind
exactly how to get back to the exact ship they had
arrived in.
  She just hoped she got the chance. 40

  THE ALARM CHIMED THROUGH THE WARM
RUMOR OF Drickel's hilltop home,
rousing him from his afternoon nap on his favorite couch.
That alarm hadn't gone off in years and he'd almost
forgotten how much its soft, gentle chimes annoyed
him.
  "All right, all right," he said. "Alarm
off."
  The chimes stopped and the faint lyrical sounds of
Period Three flutes filled the house with soothing
harmonies from the best musicians of
Rollingburg's Retreat.
  He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. The
green of the living room, with its scattered sofas and
seating arrangements, blended into the green of the plush
jungle outside. The walls were large windows that
provided him with a clear view of dozens of different
animals. Beyond the jungle, he could see a range

  tall, new, and very rough mountains in the distance.
Some days he focused the window on the mountains.
During others, he buried the view deep into the
forest. Before he had gone to sleep, he left the
view turned to a shadowy undergrowth that let in little
light. The cool, moist darkness looked inviting, but
he had an alarm to answer.
  He cursed silently and comdialed up a broader
view. The day itself was warm and sunny and the mountains
beckoned in the distance. Often he woke himself
by exploring the top of the mountain range, focusing on
water, and letting the sparkle take him. The
diversity was one reason why he had settled
in this Period. He loved the peacefulness of it.
Chasing damn alarms made him angry.
  After six-point-seven years of Real Time, he
still got angry. That last alarm had taken almost two
days of his Real Time and forced him to go to a cold
Period during winter months. It took almost a
week of Real Time after his return to shake the
trauma of the experience from his bones. He had received
a commendation for that little adventure. But the commendation had
been small recompense for the days of chill.
Saunas, steam baths, and cutting wood in the hot
jungle sun hadn't warmed him. He finally had
to ask Medical for a balm to get the winter out of his
system. No use complaining. The alarm had sounded and
he had to respond. He supposed he shouldn't be so
angry at earning his salary now and then. Without the
Watchman job he would never have afforded this
beautiful, house.
  He stood, stretching his tall frame and loosening
tight muscles. He had just finished his first workout
of the day before his nap. His loose-fitting green
warmup suit was a bit gamy, and his headband had
stuck to his forehead.
  With one last longing glance at the lush jungles
and the rocky mountains in the distance, he tapped
a seven-digit code into a small console on the
wall near the entrance to his kitchen. He used the
console every day to report in. Food and supplies
also came thanks to that console, and occasionally he
received calls from friends. But it felt odd to his
fingers to be punching in his security code again.
  He first looked for a date on the readout, then
sighed. Of course they would send him somewhere cold and
dark. Seven and a half million years in the
future. Couldn't someone mess with the Time Stations in
the summer months? Probably not.
  The stations were abandoned after the Second Expansion
Period and the ships looked ripe for the taking. At
least he wouldn't have to deal with his own kind. There were
only a few really crazy folks who lived that far
up the time line, and most of them were a million or so
years even farther into the future. Real nut cases
who seemed to find the desertlike periods enjoyable.
  Much as he hated where he was heading, he
appreciated the fact that he would be alone. His own
people sometimes interfered when faced with an interloper.
Better to handle it alone. Much better. Maybe
he would earn another commendation.
  Another commendation would bring a significant 43
  raise in pay. He would be able to install
view windows in the west wing of the house.
  Enough dreaming. He had to respond to the alarm first.
The readout showed that no one had lived anywhere near the
alarm for thousands of Real Time years.
  He'd had some experience with this specific
Period. The only creatures that triggered alarms
were PlanetHoppers. They were always the most
difficult to handle. Their cultures were
sophisticated enough to allow them to travel through space,
but still primitive enough to limit that travel
to physical movement.
  Often Planet-Hoppers would see things like the
old Time Stations as places to be plundered, thinking
them truly abandoned. The last time he had been to this
specific Period he had spent five Real Time
days howling like a jungle cat before realizing that the
Planet-Hoppers thought the wind made the sound.
  Fortunately he had other tricks that sent those
nosy little Planet-Hoppers back to their Vacuum
Ships.
  He tapped in his response code, informing the
Mean Time Control that he was headed for the alarm, then
turned and walked quickly through the comfort- able green
hallways to his bedroom. There, he doublechecked the
readout on the secondary display.
  Of course. A part of the planet and a time of year
there almost as cold as his previous alarm. He would
need all of his warm clothing. I "Why couldn't these
trespassers pick the summer side? Or at least
springside?" he muttered. "Would that be too much
to ask?" 44
  Since he had lived alone for the past sixteen
years of his Real Time, no one answered him.
  He tossed his pack into his bedroom
transport booth, and punched in passage to the
closest Time Station. His only hope was that he could
make this mission quick.
  The inside of the building was even warmer than
outside. Torres brushed hair off her ridged
forehead and wondered how she had ever felt cold.
Kim gasped beside her. Neelix, mercifully, was
silent. The orange-suited man who had brought them
here herded them together as if they were Romulan sheep.
He didn't have to. All three of them had stopped
once they came through the door.
  The building was unlike what Torres had
expected, although if anyone had asked her what she
had expected, she would have been unable to answer. She
had not expected the teeming mass of people. So many people,
in fact, that they had ceased being individuals
and had become a sea of color and sound, moving
back and forth like waves. Concentrating on the people was
too overwhelming. She concentrated on the building
instead. The man had brought them into a huge hall with
staircases on its north and south faces. The
ceiling was twice as high as the ceilings in
Voyager, and it was a sparkly white. After a
moment, she realized that what she had taken as
sparkles were actually tiny lights embedded into the
ceiling tiles. The white motif went throughout the
building with limited success. Once 45
  the white reached shoulder height of these odd people,
dirt and smudges marred it. Tiny drawings covered
the floor. At first Torres thought the drawings
graffiti. Then she realized that they were diagrams
leading the first-time traveler to the booths that clustered
together in various segments of the huge hall.
  "Transport booths," Kim said, his voice
hushed slightly in awe. He was looking in the same
direction as Torres was.
  She nodded. The transporters were encased by clear
walls, and serviced only one person at a time.
But it was clear they operated on the same principle
as the' unit in Voyager. All the booths were
painted in bright colors and had signs over
them. One person entered on one side, while
another would leave from a different side. They would
hesitate only as they entered, pausing to punch in a
quick code on a panel on the outside, before stepping
inside and vanishing. Torres was very impressed,
especially considering how many thousands and thousands of these
building remains Voyager had seen during their
scans from space.
  Some of the booths had short lines waiting to get
in. Others were empty. Torres guessed that each
booth went to transporter booths in a certain area
of the planet.
  The people who used the booths had purposeful but
blank expressions on their faces. Torres
recognized the look. She had used it herself when
taking the same route day after day. Almost everyone
using the booths carried a small case. Some people were
with families. Others alone. Torres had seen this
exact scene hundreds of times throughout the Federation.
This was a 46
  transportation facility. Some of the people were going
to or from work, others were traveling on vacation or
business. Only outside the doors of this terminal
weren't shuttles to take the travelers into orbit
or to another part of the planet. Outside these
doors was a huge field of ships that seemed
to travel in time. That meant all these people were commuting
through time in some fashion or another. She had no
idea how the society worked, how it dealt with all the
time paradoxes, or even why it would risk such
difficulties. She wanted to find out.
  Neelix had apparently seen enough. He bounced
on his feet, catching the attention of the man in
orange. "Are you taking us home?" The man
looked at Neelix as if he were a small bug.
"I'm taking you to the Mean Time Control for this
Period."
  "Period?" Torres asked.
  "Mean?" Neelix said. He turned to Kim.
"I don't like the sound of this." The man made a
small harrumphing sound, turned, and started to walk
through the throng. He seemed to pay no attention
to anyone else in the room, and none of the other
travelers noticed him-or the away team-either.
Torres and Kim had to hurry to keep up with
Neelix and the man. Neelix was tugging on the
man's sleeve. "I sincerely think you should let us
go on our way. Lieutenant Torres is well
known for her right hook and-was "Neelix!" Tbrres
said.
  "I'm simply letting him know that we can be mean
as well. We don't control time, but we control
other important things. We can be quite formidable."
Neelix still clung to the man's sleeve. The man
was staring down at him as if Neelix were little more than
a child.
  "I don't think he means angry-mean," Kim
said in a loud whisper. "I think he means
mean-mean."
  "That's what I mean," Neelix said. "We can
be mean-mean. We have B'Elanna here."
  "He means-I mean-he-arg!" Torres
interrupted herself. "Mean Time Control probably
refers to the mathematical concept of average."
  "Average?" Neelix said. "How can a Time
Control be average?" The man stopped and shook
Neelix's hand off his sleeve. "The Mean Time
Control handles problems outside of Real Time."
  "Oh," Neelix said. "Well, that clarifies
matters." He shook his head. But Torres was
beginning to get a little clearer picture of what the
man was talking about.
  "You have clearly defined time periods, then?" she
asked. "That's what you were referring to earlier when you
mentioned the Time Control for this Period."
  The man nodded. He weaved between members of a
family. Torres hurried to catch up. Kim was
right behind her. Neelix stared after the children, who were
taller than he was, noted that the others were gone, and
ran to rejoin the group.
  "So how long is a period?" Torres asked.
  "Five hundred thousand years," the man said, in

  tone that told her the passing children would have known this.
Torres wanted to stop walking. She felt as if
she had almost grasped the concept the man was talking
about. If they operated within periods, separated time
into Real Time and Mean Time, then- "Real Time
runs forward for you, just like it does for us, then." "Time
always runs forward, ma'am. Sometimes we just travel
backward." She hated that tone. One of her
professors at the academy used that tone with her.
It made her feel ... well, mean.
  She glanced at Neelix. She would not prove
him right within one hour of landing in this strange place.
  "I still don't understand why you need to bring us to the
Time Control." "Probably because we're
strangers," Kim said. He shot her a glance that
let her know how uncomfortable he felt. She
appreciated his feelings. She was
uncomfortable too. But her way was to confront. His was
to go along. Her way was the only one that would get them
answers. "The Mean Time Control regulates
travel," the man said, as if that were answer enough.
  . "I got that," Torres said. "We didn't
intend to take the ship. We'll return it. It's
a simple case of letting us 90 back."
  "You cannot go back."
  "Actually," Neelix said, "we could. We could

  get on the ship, I could sit down for a nap like
I did before, the lights would go on, and-was
  "No," the man said. "It's against the law."
  "What?" Torres said. "What law?"
  "I told you," the man said. "Control Ordinance
852.6l."
  "Which regulates what?" Torres asked.
  "Intraperiod travel."
  "If you don't travel between Periods, then how
do you time travel?" Kim asked.
  "Intraperiod," Torres said. "You can't
travel within a single Period, can you?" That question was
pointed at the guard. "Because if you do, you'll screw
up Real Time. That's why you people let time run
forward. You live out your lives within a
Period, then-was
  "No, ma'am. We may visit any Period
we want, any Black Period that is. Red
Periods are, of course, forbidden."
  "Of course," Neelix said, sotto voce.
  "Neelix!" Torres said, then she turned to the
guard. "But you can't travel within the same Period.
That's how you avoid paradox. This is fascinating."
"I wish I could study it in my room. In my
bathtub," Neelix. said. "Under sudsy hot
water. Steaming, sudsy hot water-was
  Kim jabbed Neelix and Neelix stopped
talking.
  Torres took the man's arm. His orange
suit felt crinkly, like fresh paper. "Listen,
we didn't purposefully break your laws. Your
ship brought us here. We're willing to go back. In
fact, we want to go back. The more you drag us around
this Period, the more we could affect something."
  "That may very well be," the man said. "Control
will sort it out." He stopped in front of a booth and
punched in a code. Then he swept a hand forward,
indicating that Torres should step through. She shook her
head. "I don't think so," she said. "I think
we'd better remain with the ship we arrived
in. We have to get back into the future and-was
  "Not without permission," the man in orange said,
almost a touch of panic in his voice. "You have already
time-jumped inside a Period without permis- sion
and that is a very serious offense."
  Torres glanced around at the small, curious
crowd that was now starting to form. And the comman's accusations
about time-jumping without permission sent an uneasy
stir through the crowd.
  "That was an accident," Torres said. "Your
shuttle kidnapped us, not the other way around."
  "That will be for Mean Time Control to figure out.
Now, please." Again, he moved his hand in that
curious, courtly gesture, as if he were trying
to sweep Torres onto a dance floor.
  She glanced at Kim and then at Neelix.
What was she supposed to do? Leave the place and the
ship that brought them from the future and put her hands in
some unknown "Control"? A Mean Control? As
Neelix said, it didn't sound promising.
  She nodded to Kim and then turned to the man in
orange. "I think we'll just go back to the shuttle
that we came in. If you want to talk to us, we will
be there. We have a spaceship in orbit around this
planet three hundred thousand years in the
future and our only
  goal is to return to it. We have no desire
to cause problems. Understood?" The man in orange
just stood there staring at them with a panicked look.
"Let's go," Torres said. With more confidence than
she felt, she started back across the huge room,
Kim on her left and Neelix on her right, his
short legs pumping hard to keep up with her stride.
"Halt now before I have to send a Time Breach
alarm," the man in orange said forcefully. His words
sent out a gasp through the large crowd that had now formed
to watch the show.
  66 Phasers on stun," Torres said softly
to Kim while not slowing down. "Make it back to that
ship and hold it secure. Understood?"
"Understood," he said.
  "Now!" Torres said and broke into a run for the
door, her phaser in her hand. People scattered out of
their way as a soft chiming echoed through the huge room.
  She burst through the door and was immediately surrounded
by a hundred orange-suited people, who were apparently
expecting them. They held long- barreled weapons
with the ends trained on her. Kim was surrounded
by another large group, and so was Neelix.
  "I thought you said intraperiod travel is
forbidden," she said. "You committed a Time Breach,"
the initial guard responded from behind her. Torres
stopped and slowly raised her hands, letting 52
  her phaser drop to the ground. Kim did the same
beside her. "That was fast," Neelix said.
  "I doubt we ever had a real chance," Torres
said. Once these people had known Torres's plan, they
had traveled back just far enough in time to prevent her and
her team from getting to the shuttle. Behind them their
original guard said, "Now would you please come with
me? You are in a great deal of trouble."
  "Obviously," Neelix said.
  Slowly Torres lowered her hands and followed the
guard back across the room to the transporter booth.
Her chances of seeing Voyager again had just gotten
much, much worse.
  CHAPTER
  KjANDER'S LEANED AGAINST THE WALL IN
THE TRAN-SPORT Station. The grease from
decades of travel was rub bing off on his bright
blue tunic. He didn't care. The thing was a
disguise anyway. Better to look lik " e a
bureaucrat heading for work in Period 18 than
to wear leisure clothes from Period 899. He
hated this Period, probably because it was his
home Period. It offered no room for growth or
change, and he needed both. He needed adventure.
The Seconds-Watchers in Control had no idea
what adventure was. To them adventure occurred
whenever a shuttle took off. But he had been to a
hundred Periods before they took his travel
license away and he had used up opportunities
in every one of them. What he really wanted to do was see
something other than this planet. He had heard of
Planet-Hoppers before and 54
  had thought of them often, especially when he
traveled to dark times and stared at the stars above, were
all those worlds different from his own? Did they have warm
and cool periods, ice ages, and forested ages,
creatures that developed through time, and creatures that
disappeared as the millennium passed? Or were they just
like this place, the same yet different depending on
where in the time line a traveler landed?
  He would have loved to have asked the.
PlanetHoppers that Control had picked up, but
those three odd-looking people were doomed. They had been
doomed the moment they tried to make a break for it.
They didn't seem to understand that making a straight
run for it was the wrong way to avoid the orange
suits. Causing a Time Alarm was a sure
way to get executed real quick. He sighed. At
least they were having an adventure. He was just
observing.
  Then he stood up as an idea hit him.
  Their bad luck just might have been his good luck.
He'd been planning to take a shuttle, even though
his license was gone. He had just needed a destination not
guarded by the Watchmen. He had been lurking in this
Transport Station for two days, trying to discover a
place that he could disappear into, one that no other
Time-Jumper had tried before. Then these
Planet-Hoppers had shown up.
  Three hundred thousand years, the pretty woman
with the ridged forehead had said. They had a ship, a
planet-hopping ship, in orbit. After the room was
totally clear of the orange suits, he moved
slowly toward the door they had entered. 55
  This would be a perfect escape. He had managed
to avoid Control so far. All they had managed was
to rescind his license. They hadn't found him, just
traces of him. His usual contacts could no longer
help. He had stolen too much merchandise and brought
it to the wrong Period. He was wanted, not just for the
thefts, but also for hijacking a control ship and jumping
within a Period. That had turned out
unpleasant, but at least it had provided him with a
quick escape. He had jumped a few years away,
and then allowed the Control ship to return. Control
had thought he stayed in the past, never thinking he would
return to his own Real Time present. It had
seemed like a good idea then.
  Two Real Time weeks later, the idea seemed
a little lamebrained. Without help, he had had nowhere
to go.
  Until now.
  He ambled through the door onto the warm concrete
of the field and glanced around. It took him a moment
before he spotted the Planet-Hoppers" shuttle.
The shuttle seemed much older than the rest. It
looked so bad that he was surprised it had been able
to make the jump.
  The shuttle sat on a pad that belonged to a
different shuttle. When that shuttle returned, the
automatic homing device of the old ship would take
it back to the future, to the time of the
Planet-Hoppers' Vacuum Ship. And if his
plan worked, it would soon be his Vacuuin Ship.
  Torres clenched her fists and held them at her
side, battle-ready, as she stepped into the
transporter. The dislocating change-something
she would never completely get used to-occurred in a
split second. One moment she was in the big
transporter hall, the next she was in a room
dug out of solid rock.
  Neelix appeared beside her, eyes closed and
body tilted backward as if he had been pushed.
Once he materialized, he fell back against the
clear walls of the transporter.
  Kim appeared a moment after that, his dark eyes
wide. He stood in full military posture,
looking more like a Starfleet officer than Torres
had ever seen him. Then she realized that he had dealt
with their imprisonment with the Ocampa the same way;
she just hadn't realized that his reserve had military
components. Of course, then she had not been thinking,
she had been reacting.
  Here she was thinking.
  And wondering why the three of them were such a
spectacle. The room's inhabitants stood around
the transporter, five deep, staring at Torres,
Kim, and Neelix. The stone room was hotter than
the communal deserts on Hafir Minor, but that
didn't stop the small crowd from wearing three
layers of clothing-all black with white
trim-collars up to their chins, sleeves that
buttoned around their wrists, and leggings that tied below the
ankle. Torres had noted a few people wearing these
outfits in the great hall, but she had never noticed
the shoes before. The shoes were frivolous-they were sandals
made 57
  of the same clear material as the transporter
walls, only the clear material had been treated
with a black stain. The bottom of the shoes came
to points beneath the toe and the heel, and required a
tremendous amount of balance for the wearer to stand upright.
Those shoes had to add at least six centimeters of
height to the wearer-and gave a tremendous
advantage to anyone trying to run away from these odd
folks, as long as the person running away was wearing
sensible shoes.
  Torres made note of the clothing in the second
after she materialized. Then she looked beyond the people to the
room itself. The room had no doors, although an
entire wall seemed to be missing on the far side.
Computer stations were scattered around tiny pine trees
that grew out of the dirt that composed the floor. Only
a few chairs existed at all. Torres suddenly
felt sympathy for all these workers. They wore those
shoes, and spent all day on their feet.
  Toward the open wall the trees changed from
pine to a variety that Torres had never seen before.
The broad leaves and ribbed bark made the trees
look tropical. They disappeared into the opening leading
somewhere. But since she didn't know where she was, and
since these people could anticipate her every move, she
couldn't make a run for it yet. Their guard
materialized beside her.
  "Thank goodness," Neelix said, the human
expression sounding natural on his lips. "I thought
for a moment we would be abandoned to the whims of fate."
  Both Torres and Kim shot him warning glances,
which he seemed to ignore. "After all," Neelix
said to the small crowd before them, "you good people would never
treat guests the way your orange-suited
colleague does. He doesn't say hello, which
I grant you is not custom in every culture, but it
does, in most, signify politeness. He arrests
visitors, and he makes up rules as he goes
along. I ask you, is that any way to make people
feel welcome?"
  "Neelix," Torres hissed.
  No one else answered him. Their guard stepped
out of the transporter as if he hadn't heard
Neelix at all. He pushed his way through the
crowd-Torres was amazed that no one
toppled over on those shoesand then stopped at the open
wall.
  "I would advise you to follow me," he said.
  "Where are we going?" Torres asked.
  "To Control," he said.
  "I thought this was Control," Torres said.
  "They don't look mean enough," Neelix
whispered. "I don't know," Kim said. "Those
shoes-was
  "Ensign!" Torres said. The last thing she
wanted was for Kim to pick up Neelix's bad
habits.
  "This is not Control. This is merely a stop
along the way," the guard said. "Come along."
  Torres glanced at her companions, giving them
a silent order to follow her, then led the way through the
crowd. A few people brushed against her, not too
accidentally, she suspected. A few others made
eye contact. "Very few people go to Control," one of the
wom en said, her voice hushed. 59
  "Lucky us," Torres said.
  "Time Breaches are serious," a man said.
  "It's your fault," Neelix said. "If your
ship hadn't taken us from our time, we would not be here.
We would be peacefully minding our own
business in that aban-was
  The guard whirled and grabbed Neelix before he had
a chance to finish his sentence. The guard held
Neelix at eye level. "Your prattle takes
risks of its own." -
  "I think," Kim said, "you might have been about
to say something you shouldn't."
  "I never say something I shouldn't," Neelix
said. The guard tightened his grip on Neelix's
collar. "Although," Neelix said, "I sometimes say
things I regret. 09 The guard lowered him, then
let go. "Now," the guard said. "Shut up and
follow me."
  Neelix bowed his head and followed, playing the
contrite prisoner. Torres got out of'the crowd.
Once she did, she and Kim went through the open
wall side by side.
  The strange trees smelled of juniper and
burning pitch. The odor was more pleasant than she
had suspected it would be. The trees lined the
wall, occasionally almost blocking doors. Orange
suits came in and out of those doors, moving quickly
and with purpose. A few people dressed in black
tottered slowly by.
  "Those shoes," Neelix said as he
caught up to the guard. "Are they punishment for
something?"
  The guard squinted down at Neelix. "I
told you to shut up."
  "It was just a simple question," Neelix said.
  "Actually," said another orange suit who had
ap- peared beside Kim. "The shoes are a status
symbol. The I " ess you have to walk, the more
ornate your shoes can be."
  Torres wasn't certain she wanted to wear her
jewelry on her feet. Of course, she wasn't
that fond of baubles anyway. If something didn't have
a purpose it didn't make much sense to her.
  The orange suit walking beside Kim was a
woman, slender to the point of gauntness, her hair
long and caught in an orange thong behind her neck.
More of the orange suits who had come out of the doors
had joined their little party until Torres felt like
part of an invasion force going through tunnels in
Cardassia.
  Finally the wide corridor forked and opened
into another stone room. The trees disappeared
completely, and it took a few extra steps before
their pungent odor disappeared from Torres's
nostrils. This room reminded Torres more
of a shuttlebay. It was wide and tall and the stone had
a flat, utilitarian feel. Although the floor was
long and flat, and not composed of dirt, but of more of that
concrete material, it was empty except for one
ship that sat in the very center. The ship was a
miniature version of the shuttle they had arrived
irl It lacked the long landing legs, and the ramp
went in a side instead of under it. The ship's
circumference was also much smaller. She doubted a
hundred people could fit inside.
  She stopped when she reached the cement floor. "I
hope," she said in her calmest voice, "that this ship
will take us back to our own time." "It would be so
wonderful," Neelix said. "I have to tell you that I
much prefer newer ships. They are ever so much more
reliable. You can escort us back, meet my darling
Kes, and then be on your way. I can guarantee that
we will be on ours. It would be no inconvenience to any
of us and-was "This is the way to Control," the first guard
said. "I don't believe that taking a shuttle
anywhere except three hundred thousand years in the
future will help us," Torres said. She wished for
Tuvok. Her calm was slipping.
  "We are not trying to help you," the first guard said.
"You committed a Time Breach."
  "We had no idea that your ship would bringus here.
Your homing device was set for this time. It's the
ship's 'problem, not ours," Torres said. "Just
take us home. We promise we'll never come here
again."
  The woman beside Kim suddenly grabbed his arm.
"Hey!" he said. "I hadn't even made my
move yet."
  Torres looked at him. "It wouldn't have done
any good, Ensign," she said. "Even if they let
us ta * ke that shuttle, we probably couldn't
run it. It looks like a different model from the one
that brought us."
  "Control is expecting you," the first guard said.
"Well, they can wait a minute," Torres said.
"If we decide to go, you can always back up the time
stream a little."
  All the orange suits gasped around her. They
had 62
  that shocked look that most Starfleet officers had
when someone slandered the Academy.
  "I suppose I said something wrong," she said.
  "You violated Ordinance 661.33," the first
guard said. "Fortunately," said the woman beside
Kim, "the six-hundred series are all
misdemeanors."
  "We could," the first guard said to the woman,
"attribute this to stress and overlook it."
  She nodded. "But let's see how the interview with
Control goes. You know they hate speech crimes.
And overlooking a misdemeanor can itself be worthy of a
fine. The new twelve-hundred series Ordinances
. . ."
  "Is everything numerical to these people?" Neelix.
asked Kim. "My mind spins from the math."
  "dis . . demand constant vigilance on the part of .
. "There hasn't been any real math yet," Kim
said. "dis . . documentation is enormous. . ."
  "Except the actual time travel itself,"
Neelix said. "Have you any real comprehension of
three hundred thousand? I once scavenged three
hundred thousand lisern seeds off a Uteke
freighter, and they filled my cargo bay to the brim.
It took me a week to count the things."
  "dis . . therefore," the woman concluded, "we should
make note of the violation."
  Torres rolled her eyes. Didn't anyone
else understand the seriousness of this? "I think we should do
as they say and shut up," Torres said to Kim and
Neelix.
  "That's good," said a third guard, the one who had
stayed close to Torres, "because actually my" col

  leagues are wrong. Ordinance 661.33 governs
time judgments often made in jest. To suggest a
crime to more than three others, however, especially
to Time Patrol officers, falls in the
four-hundred series, most applicable 412.11.
Of course, we could add 486.90, which includes
incitement to riot-was "Enough!" Torres said. "Just
take us on your damn shuttle."
  . The orange suits looked at each other.
None of them moved. The woman beside Kim said,
"Are we to treat them like four-hundred series
violators, eighthundred series violators, or
six-hundred series violators?" "I think we
should let Control decide that," the first guard said.
"Excuse me," Kim said.
  "Everyone looked at him, including Neelix,
who appeared to be holding his breath.
  "But none of you could help us even if you wanted
toeavould you?" "We have jurisdiction for
six-hundred-level crimes," the woman said
archly. "We do decide who goes to Control and who
doesn't," the first guard said. "What I'm
asking is-was Kim glanced at Torres. She could
see the wild panic in his eyes. "comd any of you have
the authority to send us back to our own time?"
  "Absolutely not!"
  "No!"
  "And who would want it?"
  The first two responses were chorused in unison

  most of the orange suits. Only the woman
answered differently. "I thought you were due for
promotion to Control," the first guard said softly
to her.
  She shook her head. "I withdrew my
application."
  "But the increase in pay would be spectacular,"
another suit said. "It's not enough," the woman said.
"Do you know that you would be outside Periods for much of
your career and that some Control are even asked to forgo
families and. . ."
  "Can we leave?" Torres asked.
  "dis . . if I were to explain that, I would commit a
six-hundred violation myself, but suffice to say. .
."
  "Hey!" Torres said, louder than before. "Can
we 90"...91
  "dis . . I think double the amount of money they pay
us still wouldn't be worth the hassles . . ."
  "Do I have to commit another four-hundred-level
violation?" Torres said as loudly as she could without
shouting.
  That shut them up. They looked at her. The
woman's mouth was hanging open. "I would like to go see
your Control people," Torres said. "That's where we were
going before we got sidetracked. Can we get on with
this?" "Certainly," the first guard said, somewhat
chagrined. He led them up the ramp. Kim brushed
close to Torres. "What were you doing?" he
whispered.
  "You were right. They're just petty officials.
Lct's go somewhere where something can get done."
  "Bravo!" Neelix said.
  The ramp leveled into the ship itself. Torres had
been right. This ship was much smaller on the inside.
It had only ten seats in a circle around the
wall, and six orange guards came along,
including the original but not (thank heaven) the
gossipy woman. The first guard gave Kim,
Torres, and Neelix the seats in the middle. The
six guards faced them, as the door slammed
closed.
  The seats were soft, but not too soft. Torres
squirmed, trying to get comfortable, when the little ship
shook slightly and seemed to lift, then settled
almost as quickly back to the deck.
  Torres's heart felt as if it had jumped
into her throat. She swallowed hard. Calm, she
repeated to herself. Calm. She tried to imagine
Tuvok in this situation, and tried to imitate him.
  "So tell me," Torres said as if the answer
didn't matter to her at all, "how many years did
we just travel through time?" The lead orange guard
stood. "Exactly four hundred and forty-four
million, five hundred thousand years$19
  Torres felt her head spin and she took a
deep breath. "What?" The door hissed open.
  "How many zeros is that?" Neelix asked Kim.
  Kim shook his head.
  Neelix extended his right hand, counted his fingers
several times using the thumb and forefinger of his left
hand, and then looked up at Torres. All the charm
had 66
  left his features, and for the first time since she had
known him, his cheek hair stood out straight, and the
spots on his skin looked livid. "I think," he
said, "I finally understand how you and the other
members of Voyager must feel being so far from
home."

  THE COUPLE GOING UP THE RAMP HAD
THREE CHILDREN AND four times the maximum luggage
for a warm-climate period. Drickel waited at
the bottom of the ramp while the family separated the
pieces of luggage, cheap mesh bags that would split
apart before their trip was over. The mother ran down the
ramp, carrying six bags to the transport,
apologizing to the other passengers as she went. She
dialed in her personal code, got it wrong,
cursed, and redialed. When the bags disappeared, she
ran back up the ramp, apologizing again, and then
rejoined her family. Security, which watched for
precisely that kind of violation, waved the rest of the
passengers through. The shuttle was crowded although all the
passengers had seats. Drickel leaned back in his
chair, arms and legs crossed. Only a few people
looked at his utilitariBe
  an uniform. They assumed, because his footwear was
practical and his clothing drab, that he was a
low-level bureaucrat. If they had thought about it,
they would have realized that he had one of the more exciting
jobs in the system.
  But people rarely thought of that. The chances of running
into the same person again were slim. So for the most part.
everyone ignored everyone else.
  The shuttle lifted and settled twice before
Drickel's stop, but only a handful of people-most of
them in orange jumpsuits-got off. He was heading
for the main shuttle station of Period 889. Most of the
people had got off up-line in times much more conducive
comto family travel. He traveled the
millions of years with his eyes closed. Even though
he hadn't been on the shuttle in six-point-seven
Real Time years, every movement of the shuttle was
familiar to him. He could almost plot the course in his
sleep.
  When the shuttle landed in 889, Drickel
disembarked alone. It didn't surprise him. No
one had ever gotten off the shuttle in this Period with
him, not in all the Real Time years he'd been a
Watchman. As he walked down the ramp, he
remembered why he disliked this station. He hated the
air here. It was far too dry. It would be even
worse where he was going. His nose always dried up and
it was everything he could do to keep enough balm on his lips
to keep them from bleeding. His job consisted of answering
calls and guarding the abandoned shuttle stations
in fifty different Periods. The choice
Periods, of course, rarely required his 69
  services. He always traveled to the difficult
Periods," the one no one wanted to visit, not
even on a scholarly quest. Eight-eighty-nine
Real Time was tolerable, but three hundred thousand
years farther along wasn't.
  As he stepped off the ramp the air instantly
dried out his nose and eyes. It was a warm afternoon,
closer to fiot on the payed surface, and it made
him long for his jungle. There the air was moist. It
hugged him like steam and felt like a friendly presence.
Here the air was an enemy, taking his life forces and
giving him nothing in return. He stopped to allow
himself to adjust to people again. They flowed around him like water
around a stone. Most wore the blues and purples of
government workers, but a few tottered by on their
pointed platform shoes, expressing their distaste comat
public transportation. Most of these folks were
middle-income bureaucrats who earned just enough money
to look as if they earned more. The really important
people were invisible to most of the citizens. They never felt
as if they had to wear clothing to impress, never spent
ostentatiously in public. Drickel liked to think
of himself as one of them-his home was the place
all of his earnings went-but in actuality, he was just
one step above the tottering middle management. The
difference between him and them was simply one of information.
They knew what the future would bring. He had been
there.
  Repeatedly.
  The crowds always made him a bit dizzy. He
made 70
  himself breathe the dry air and watched people pass.,
He was lucky that he had been called to 889. The
really popular periods had stations three times this
busy. Many of these shuttles took off less than
a quarter full. It didn't surprise him. He
couldn't imagine tilde why anyone would visit this
time period, let alone live here. But obviously
millions did. He walked slowly through the heat and
dry air to the nearest transport building, letting
the small crowds move around him. He had learned
years ago that being in a hurry just never did much good,
especially in this job. He entered the building,
wincing when he realized the air was warmer here, but
smelled worse. People stepped in and out of the
transporters, the faces changing, but the movements
staying the same. Conversations flowed like good music,
punctuated by loud and silent moments. He
walked around a line and went to a booth that appeared
to be out of order. It was actually reserved for
service personnel. On the destination pad he
keyed in his special code and then stepped inside.
  The noise of the talking crowds in the terminal
disappeared in midthrum. He had a moment of silence
before he heard the hum of machines and the clicking of
keys. The transporter had moved him almost a
kilometer below the surface of"...the shuttle field.
  He blinked in surprise. All of the
bureaucrats were away from their computers. Most were
sipping blackbean sugar water from pointed glass
cups that matched their shoes. They were all speaking in
soft, 71
  animated voices. The bureaucrats' high
comcollars and tight sleeves reminded him of the
rules they all enforced: restrictive and necessary only
because others might take advantage.
  He stepped off the pad into the high-ceilinged room
that smelled of pine. He had always thought of that as
cool air scent, but someone had decided to fill this
hot stuffy office with baby trees. Farther down
one hall stood Aleisen trees, and even farther,
fems grew out of the stone. Computers winked at
various locations near the trees, and the few
chairs in the room were occupied.
  This was Shuttle Control for Period 889 and the
connection to Mean Time Control in Period One. The
two hundred employees down here were in charge of
making sure a ship went only to the exact point and
time it was programmed to go. This control room, and the
others like it in every Period, were the very soul and heart of the
society spread out through almost a billion years of
time.
  Drickel liked this control room more than any
of the other Periods he worked in. He liked the
plants and the warm feel. The people here had made this
place comfortable and welcoming. Some Controls had
done nothing more than leave the rock walls the
chambers were carved out of and stick in desks. Those always
seeited dark, oppressive, and cold to him. He
couldn't imagine how anyone could work there.
  "Hey, Drickel, it's been a lot of Real
Time." A heavyset man wearing a meter-tall red
wig set his black-bean sugar water glass in the
dirt beside a pine and extended his hand.
  "About thirteen years, Red." Drickel
switched his carryall bag to his other hand and stepped
forward, grasping Red's firm grasp. He had
forgotten how his name sounded when spoken
by another person. And Red was one of his favorites.
He got his name from the red wigs he had favored
since he was a boy. "You're looking young. Still
living in One with all the masses?" Red laughed.
"Wow, what a memory. Actually when they
promoted me, I moved to Eight-Seven. Got
myself a place down in Southern City. Still crowded,
but not as bad as One."
  "You really should try the wilderness life,"
Drickel said. He missed it already.
  "My wife's been telling me the same thing.
Who knows." Red shrugged and then glanced around. "You
just missed all the excitement. We actually had a
Time Alarm right above us this morning."
  "You're kidding," Drickel said. He hadn't
heard of a Time Alarm in all his years of service.
No wonder no one was working. This would be a real day
to remember. "What happened?"
  "Amazing violations," Red said. "Four last I
heard."
  "Four people?"
  "Nope," Red said. "Four violations before they
got shipped to Control. One an eight-hundred
level."
  Drickel felt a chill run down his
back. Eighthundreds were extremely serious.
"Actual physical violation?" he asked. "More
than one, if you want to get technical," Red
said. His normally placid eyes had a slight
glint. 73
  Shuttle Control never saw much excitement.
"Three Planet-Hoppers tried to steal a
Period shuttle. We back-timed a force of
sixty to stop them. Control whisked the prisoners
through here and back to One without much delay." "Enough
delay to cause two more four-hundred violations!"
someone yelled from the back. Clearly the group had
been discussing the event ever since it happened.
  Drickel shook his head in amazement.
Back-timing was seldom used and very dangerous.
Control must have thought the situation drastic. He
wondered if he would ever discover the details. He
doubted it. So he moved through the scattered groups,
shaking his head when a man offered him a glass, and
headed for the tunnel.
  Red kept pace with him. They weren't really
friends, but they might have been if Drickel had been
the friendly type.
  "What brings you back to good old
Eight-eightynine?" Red asked. "A
problem up-Period they want my help on."
  Red glanced around to make sure no one was
listening. "I've got clearance now f6r up-time.
I'll walk you." They started off toward the back
of the big room, following a path that led in and around
desks and trees. "The promotion got you into the
Back Room, huh?" The Back Room was the
high-security part of Control! It was the branch of
Control he worked for. Only a very few people in each
Period knew the truth about. the future in Real
Time. That wasone of the 74
  many reasons why it was so forbidden to travel inside
any 500,000-year Period. If knowledge of the Near
Future got out, it would destroy the society.
  "Yeah," Red said, shaking his head. "Sometimes I
wish they'd never told me all the
future-histoTy stuff. I would sleep better,
you know?" Drickel knew. But he had done enough work
uptime to stop fearing the Near Future. Now he just
complained about it-to himself, since he was not allowed
to discuss his work with anyone outside of the Back
Room. Red stopped at a plain door labeled
NO AD-MMRAWEvery and keyed a code into the
panel. Then he put his hand on a plate and a
small light flashed orange. Drickel
moved forward and repeated the procedure. As the light
flashed again, the door opened and the two men moved
inside. In front of them stretched a long stone
hallway with no decoration. The air here had a
processed chill. Drickel shuddered as he always
did when he stepped into the Back Room.
  "You been up-Period at all?" he asked as
they headed down the hall. Red nodded. "Just once,
right after the Second Exodus. I have nightmares
about the emptiness."
  Drickel nodded. "I'm jumping about fifty
thousand years after that. I've been there a few times.
Most everything is totally gone except for the old
ships. Planet-Hoppers mess with those ships.
I'm getting real' tired of that."
  "Anyone living there at all?" Red asked.
  "No," Drickel said as they reached the end of the

  tunnel and another thick door opened. "Too
damn cold and dry. The entire planet is
deserted during that time."
  "Amazing," Red said.
  "Not really. Everyone left during the Second
Exodus and they shut down all of the Period
shuttles." Drickel glanced at Red.
He'd seen Red's reaction before, had had the same
reaction himself. The only differetice was that
Drickel had had a lot of empty Real Time
to think about the choices. "I mean, Red, think about
it," Drickel said. "Now we can live anywhere in
time and some Periods are too damn crowded. But if
we could live in that same Period without people, most of
us would. The dimensional shifts must have seemed like a
miracle when they were discovered. Over two and a half
million choices of an uninhabited planet per
Period. If you had that kind of choice, wouldn't you
go and live in a dimension that was not crowded? Or
maybe totally empty? Imagine having an entire
planet to yourself" "My mind can't grasp other
dimensions, let alone two and a half million of
them," Red said. "I keep thinking, what if one of
my kids made a dimension shift without telling me?
How would I ever find him?" "Control would,"
Drickel said, although he wasn't so certain.
"That's what we're here for."
  "Good point," Red said. But Drickel could
tell that Red didn't believe it any more than he
did.
  The operator on duty was a woman who had
sensibly abandoned her high button
collars and tight sleeves. She still wore tied
leggings, but on her small feet the pointed
platforms looked stunning. She 76
  smiled at Drickel when he introduced himself.
Her name was Noughi, and if he hadn't been
responding to an Alarm, he might have spent a few
precious Real Time minutes getting to know her.
  She worked alone in a small, stone-walled room
that smelled of high-density sugar water. A single
drooping fem covered half of her desk. Behind her,
a large Control station filled one wall, and the other
wall was filled with a small sledlike device with a
padded bench seat in it. A personal time-jump
shuttle.
  "I got another reading just before you arrived,"
Noughi said. "On this station. But it's a bit of a
distance from the time-jump point." Drickel nodded.
Those Planet-Hoppers were really eager. Sometimes
there would be several trigger events after the first Alarm.
"How late will I be in Real Time?"
  "The time-jump point is an hour after the first
alarm. I tried to get dispensation to send you in
earlier, but Control says no to that for some reason."
  Always regulations to worry about. And other things.
"Is the underground shuttle still being maintained
in that time?" he asked. Noughi shook her head. "Not
a chance. But the tunnels are mostly still open. You
got a personal transporter in case of a
cave-in?" Drickel tapped his belt and held
up his bag. "Got all my standard tricks."
"Sounds like you're in for a hike," Red said.
  "Makes me earn my pay." Drickel turned
back to Noughi. "What's the source of the
interference?"
  "We're not sure," she said, "but we think there's

  Vacuum Ship in orbit over this station at the
point you are jumping in. They may have sensors, so
stay out of phase."
  Drickel nodded. "Well then, it's time I go
scare them away." He tossed his bag on the
orange chair, then sat beside it. He grinned at
Noughi. "Anything else I should know?"
  "Just my Real Time address," she said. "I'll
code it into your files." "If it's anywhere
crowded, you'll have to visit him," Red said. Her
smile was warm. "All he has to do is ask."
  Drickel smiled in return. He would ask-after
he checked her files. The open collar was
intriguing but the shoes hinted at some values
he didn't hold. He waved his hand. She nodded
and pressed a panel on her board. The next thing
he knew he was in blackness.
  He swore softly to himself as he fumbled around on
his belt. After so many years in the business, it was
amazing that he never remembered to turn on a lamp
before he jumped.
  Kjanders attached himself to three different family
groups near the old shuttle, trying to pretend as
if he belonged. If one of the parents looked at
him, he would move on. The key was to look
involved, but not too involved. He managed to keep
himself near the shuttle and no orange suit had even
noticed him.
  Not yet anyway.
  He wa only about ten meters away from the
shuttle when he heard it whir. A burst of
excitement ran 72
  through him. He sprinted across the pavement and
managed to get up the ramp as it was rising.
  He slipped into one of the seats as the door
snapped shut. The lights went on, and the whirring
continued. This old thing sounded as if it would fall apart
at any second.
  He clung to the seat edge, the thick
old padding separating under the pressure of his fingers.
The hardest part was over. He was jumping three
hundred thousand years to where a Planet-Hopper
ship was waiting. He'd get lost in the crowds and
then figure out a way onto the Planet-Hopper
ship. The old ship lifted, then settled back
down with a soft thump. He got out of his seat,
picking bits of stuffing from his nails. If he got
away from this ship, Control would never find him. He
would be completely free. He stood beside the door
ready to amble slowly down the ramp as if he belonged
there. The door opened and the blast of cold, dry air
hit him. He pulled his collar shut and moved
forward.
  The howl of a wind greeted him, blowing dust and sand
into his eyes. He wiped his face, unease
settling in his stomach. Normally, he heard the whir
of ships, the dull murmur of conversation even before he
stepped out the door.
  Here only the wind greeted him.
  They must have found a way to dampen sound. He
walked down the ramp, and stopped halfway.
  There were no people.
  The transport buildings were nothing more than
piles of rubble. 70
  All the shuttles were parked in place.
  And most of them were obviously too broken-down
to ever be used. He was trapped in a future he
didn't recognize. He glanced up, looking for the
Planet-Hoppers' ship, but he saw nothing above
him except the gray overcast sky.
  CAPTAIN JANEWAY CIRCLED AROUND THE
BRIDGE ONCE, wishing she had more room
to walk, to think. When she reached the captain's
chair, she sat down and turned her own armchair
console toward her.
  "Mr. Tuvok," she said, "I want you
to maintain a lock on that humanoid. I want
to know each time he takes a breath. Mr. Paris,
I want you to scan for any anomalies in the area.
Chakotay, see if you can find our away team
underground, aboveground, or floating in the
atmosphere. I want answers, people."
  She manipulated her console for answers on her
own. The short flight of the ship disturbed her. She
suspected that the ship was a mask for some other kind of
transportation. Perhaps its small motion triggered a
transporter or opened a hole underground. ell
  "Captain," Thkov said, "the humanoid has
left the ship and is standing on the ramp. I
do not know what its intentions are, nor do I know what
kind of creature it is. It appears to be male:
six feet, four inches tall, and not that
significantly different from other humanoids. It
does have eight digits on each hand. I would
suspect that it has eight toes per foot as
well." ,
  "Keep me apprised, Mr. Tuvok,"
Janeway said. At the moment she didn't care if
the man below had eight fingers or eighty-five.-
She was just hoping he would lead her to her crew
members.
  "There are underground caverns, Captain,"
Chakotay said, "but they're in ruins. None of them
provide a clear path to the surface. I've
scanned them and found no life-forms. I suspect
those underground caverns were once part of this society and
collapsed over time."
  Janeway had already come to that conclusion on her own.
The ships on the surface were also empty. As far as
her sensors showed, the single humanoid male who
had arrived in the ship was the only living creature
on Alcawell. "Captain," Paris said, a touch
of excitement in his voice, "there art trace
elements of chroniton particles around that
ship."
  "Are you sure, Mr. Paris?"
  "Certain," he said. "They've slipped back in
time."
  "How do you know that?" Janeway asked.
  "It's their turn."
  Janeway ignored that last. She examined the
small area near the ship with her console's sensors.
The 82
  elements were there, but tiny. "Time travel? Mr.
Ilivok, is that logical? If this culture could
travel in time, then why would everything be in ruins?"
"Uncertain, Captain. We do not have enough data.,"
"Is it possible?" Janeway asked.
  "Quite, Captain," Tuvok said. "Although we must
rule out several possibilities, such as if the
chroniton particles came from a source other than
the ship itself."
  "Time travel would explain how that humanoid
arrived in their ship so quickly," Paris said.
  "Chakotay," Janeway said. "Any sign of
our people?" "None," Chakotay said. "Not even
trace signatures. They haven't been beamed
anywhere and there are no other anomalies out there."
  "Mr. Thvok, is our friend moving?"
  "No, Captain. He has reached the base of the
ramp and remained there." "Good." Janeway
returned her console to its usual position. She
stood, touched her hair to make sure all the strands
were in place, and made a deep resigned sigh.
"Mr. Tuvok, get a transporter lock on
our friend and beam him to security. Then join me there.
I want you to accompany us as well, Chakotay.
Mr. Paris, you have the bridge."
  She headed for the turbolift. That passenger would have
answers. He would have to.
  One minute he was standing on the deserted station, the
next he was in a room done mostly in grays.

  A bunk was attached to the wall. Three walls
surrounded him. The room looked out on a large
open area. More smaller rooms surrounded it.
Kjanders appreciated the warmth. He hadn't
dressed for the chill of the planet.
  He sat on the bunk with a sigh. Somehow the
Planet-Hoppers had transported him. Or
someone had. Even though they weren't using booths, the
feeling was the same, just slower.
  He only hoped he hadn't been caught
by Control. The bunk was a bit short for his
large frame. Sitting on the edge brought his knees
almost to his chest level. The mattress was soft,
though, and covered with a blanket made from a material
he didn't recognize. The colors in the area were
mostly, grays and silvers, dull colors that
belonged only in institutions.
  They were leaving him alone here. He would have to find
where to go on his own. He got up and walked to the
center of the room. As he passed the two walls, a
hot forcefield slapped his body. The field
appeared only when he touched it.
  A prisoner.
  Control had found him.
  Then a door he hadn't even seen hissed open.
A slender woman wearing a red and black uniform and
two short men, one with dark skin and pointed ears, the
other with a drawing on his forehead, hurried in. They
all had small chins and wore their hair close
to their skulls in a manner most unattractive (not
even a tenth of a meter in height!). The red of their
uniforms was dull and not even the dominant color.
He let out a small sigh of relief. They
weren't 94
  Control. He hadn't had to find the
Planet-Hopper ship. It had found him.
The woman approached the forcefield. The two men
flanked her. Kjanders walked as close to the field
as he could get and found himself looking down at all of
them.
  "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the
Federation Starship Voyager. Who are you and what have
you done with my crew?"
  Kjanders gaped at her, then rethought his position.
Somehow he had expected the Planet-Hoppers
to be as glad to see him as he was to see them. But he
was wrong. Of course he was wrong. He would have
to convince them to let him stay.
  I'm Kjanders. I'm-an engineer on
Alcawell, Period Eight-eighty-nine. I
didn't do anything with your crew." The first lie
came easily. He hoped he wouldn't have to do that
too often.
  "Period?" the man with the pointed ears asked. "I
suppose that's confusing, since this is still Period
Eight-eighty-nine." Kjanders shook his head.
"Although it doesn't- seem that way." "At the
moment, I am more concerned about the three missing
members of my crew," the woman said. "They were in
the ship you arrived in moments before you.
  He couldn't lie too much. He would
never be able to keep everything straight. That's what
got him in trouble in the first place. "A tall
woman with a big forehead, a child-sized man with too
much short hair, and a man who looks something like that
one?"
  Kjanders; nodded toward the man with the drawing. 85
  "Something like," the woman said. Her voice was
curt and businesslike. "I saw them before I got
trapped in the ship," Kjanders said. "They got off
and I went to examine it. It was so old-was
  "Off?" the woman snapped. "Off where?"
  "Three hundred thousand years ago. Still Period
Eight-eighty-nine, though. That was the problem.
Control got them. I'm sorry."
  "Control?" the woman said. "What is
Control?"
  "The Time Control," Kjanders said. "Your crew
committed an eight-hundred violation. Control has
to act in those cases."
  "Three hundred thousand years?" the man with the
drawing murmured. "Explain this violation," the
woman said, ignoring the man. "They traveled.
intrapcriod. Strictly forbidden. A felony,
actually." "If they traveled within a Period," the
man with the strange ears said, "and you saw them
and, as you say, that was Period Eight-eighty-nine,
and this is Period Eight-eighty-nine, then you
committed the same violation." For
Planet-Hoppers, these people were sharp. Kjanders
nodded. "But it was accidental.. I just wanted
to examine the ship. I'd never seen one so old$91
  "It was accidental for them too," the woman said.
"Surely your Control will know that."
  "Control doesn't believe in accidents,"
Kjanders said. This wasn't going as well as he
wanted. He had to
  shift their attention, and getting out of this prison
might help. "Would you happen to have any food or
drink? It has been some Real Time since I
ate." "Mr. Tuvok," the woman said,
"weapons")"
  The pointed-eared man shook his head. "Nothing that
registers, Captain." "All right," the woman
said. She clasped her hands behind her back. "Mr.
Kjanders, if we release you and take you to a
communal area, I want your word that you will do nothing
to us or our ship."
  "I wouldn't," he said, with honest shock. "I
certainly don't want to go back down to the
planet. It's empty."
  "That it is," the woman said. "I will leave you with
Mr. Tuvok. He and security will take you to the
officers' mess hall. Along the way I want you
to figure out a way to explain the situation my crew
is in, and ways that I can help them."
  "You can't help them," Kjanders said. "They're with
Control." "Oh, I'll help them," the woman
said. "The question is whether or not I do it with your
cooperation." She turned to the man with the drawing.
"Chakotay, you're with me."
  Then she whirled and left, the man she called
Chakotay following her. The Tuvok man
remained. "You'd best cooperate with her," the
Tuvok man said. "I gathered that," Kjanders said.
He took a deep breath. He had wanted
adventure. And the adventure had definitely
begun.
  "Opinion, Commander?" Janeway asked as they
stepped into the corridor. "He's not lying about the
trouble the away team is in," Chakotay said.
"Three hundred thousand years. Captain, no
starship has ever traveled back that far. We've
been lucky to travel a few hundred years."
  Janeway did not want to think about the actual
time distance. That was a problem she would worry
about later. "I know, Chakotay. But those ships
obviously have the capability to travel. I just
want to know how." "If we show up and what he
says about their laws is true, we'll be in the
same kind of trouble that the away team is in."
  "I realize that," Janeway said. She walked
to the turbolift and ordered it to the correct floor.
"I'll reserve judgment until I hear more about his
people. What I want to know is your opinion of this
man."
  Chakotay stopped beside her in the lift. He
gave her one of his deep, soulful looks. She
braced herself. His opinions were always accurate, and
always worthwhile. "He's lying. Not about the
important things, but about himself. I did not like his
answer to Tuvok's question about the law violation."
  "I didn't either," Janeway said. "Is he
dangerous?" Chakotay frowned. "Not that I can
tell. I can't imagine someone traveling
purposefully in time to an abandoned station without a
weapon or some means of protection. That lends
credence to his accident statement. But the fact that
he, as an engineer, would get on a ship that took
off unexpectedly doesn't ring true."
  "Exactly," Janeway said. The
lift stopped and they got off. "Chakotay, I
want you present while he eats. If you get a
better sense of him, let me know. I don't
want someone dangerous having free rein on my
ship, but I also don't want to imprison someone
unnecessarily."
  Chakotay nodded.
  "I will join you in a few minutes," Janeway
said. "I'm going to get Carey to study those ships from
here. Now that we know, they can travel in time, I
suspect figuring out how to use them will be easier.
Perhaps we'll have a solution of our own without help from
this Kjanders person." "I hope so," Chakotay
said. "Because I didn't like the sound of his
"Control.""
  By the time Janeway arrived in the officers' mess
Kjanders was already eating. He had a glass of
synthale before him and one of Neelix's dishes
obviously prepared by someone Neelix had taught.
Chakotay sat to one side of Kjanders, Tuvok
to the other. A guard stood outside the door as
well. If Kjanders wanted to try anything, he would
have trouble accomplishing it. "Captain," Kjanders
said, waving a forkful of red and green glop at her.
"Your friends Chakotay and Tavok were
explaining the structure of this ship. On
Alcawell we have not had a military structure in
many Periods, but we have a bureaucracy. They
assure me that this system is more efficient."
"Tuvok." Janeway grinned at him as she sat
down. "I thought Vulcans didn't lie."
  "Captain," Tuvok said, "I firmly
believe that the Starfleet system is designed-was
  "I was kidding, Tuvok."
  Tuvok glared at her. Over the time he had
spent in human company he had grown accustomed
to dry humor-had even practiced some of it himself-but
when situations became tense he reverted to taking every
statement literally.
  Janeway folded her hands on the table.
Kjanders's food smelled of Talaxian drige
spice and broccoli. Her stomach growled. It had
been a long time since she ate. It would probably
be even longer until she got another chance. But she
really didn't want to share any repast with a
possible prisoner.
  "No dinner, Captain?" Kjanders asked, eating
the glop off his fork. She shook her head. "Please
continue. I didn't mean to interrupt." "Well,"
Kjanders said, speaking around his food, "they
were telling me about the ranking system here, and I was
telling them about the bureaucracy, but I didn't
mention how it came about. I was thinking that the best way
to do what you asked, Captain, is to give you a
brief history. Then, if I'm still not being clear,
you could let me know and I could clarify as best I
c$9.)
  "Fine," Janeway said. His history had
better be short. She didn't want to spend
precious time learning unimportant facts.
Kjanders took a sip of the synthale, swallowed, and
smiled at her. Then he leaned back in his chair.
"About two thousand Real Time years ago a team led
so
  by a man named Caxton discovered time travel.
They learned very quickly that time lines could be changed with
just the slightest of tampering. This tampering caused
serious problems. So in those early years, a very
small and powerful circle were the only people who even
knew that we could travel in time."
  "Was your culture traveling in space?"
Tuvok asked. "A bit," Kjanders said. "We were
having trouble with population density. But
Alcawellians, even then, tended to choose a
site and live there as long as they could. They
would defend that site to the death and have no real reason
to leave it. Space travel seemed like a lot of
effort to get somewhere no one wanted to go. Then, when the
early ships exploded due to bad design, space
travel lost its support."
  "Tuvok," Janeway said, "I need information that
might help get our people back. Your fascination with this
culture is understandable, but right now I want no
sidetracks. Continue, Mr. Kjanders."
  Kjanders shot what appeared to be a nervous glance
at Tuvok. "Well," Kjanders said, "Caxton
and his friends in government finally decided that space was
both unpopular and too dangerous, but the Iiistory
of the planet was a wide-open playground.
Alcawell is over nine billion years old.
Over five billion of those years it has been
capable of sustaining our needs. However, we only
evolved on the planet during about a half
million years or so."
  "So people started going back in time?" Chakotay
asked. "Actually, they started living in time.
Caxton and his team divided up the entire history
of the planet, 91
  forward and back, into five-hundred-thousand-year
chunks. Each five hundred thousand years
is called a Period."
  Janeway nodded. So that was the Period Kjanders
had referred to when he arrived. And because the away team
was three hundred thousand years in the past, they were still
in the same. Period.
  "Our dating system is a bit confusing,"
Kjanders said, "since we did not alter our Real
Time calendar when we discovered time travel.
Instead, each Period follows a Real Time
calendar based on our old calendar." "When you
refer to Real Time," Chakotay said, 46you mean
linear time. Right now, you are existing in Real Time."
  "Exactly," Kjanders said. "We may travel
hundreds of thousands or even millions of years,
but we live a normal Real Time life span.
Which, for us, is about a hundred years."
  "Let me see if I understand this," Janeway
said. "Each Period is five hundred thousand
years long. The years within those five hundred thousand
run chronologically. So year one in the first
Period is five hundred Ihousand years away from
year one in the second period."
  "Exactly," Kjanders said. "The system is a
bit confused because the first Periods were set up before
Caxton and his people discovered that some Periods
are bad no matter what. They designated those
Peri ods as Red Periods. No one may
travel to them. Even moving a stone in those Periods
might change the course of history. But we
travel in Black Periods, 99
  allowed Periods, where we can touch anything we
want."
  Tuvok templed his fingers and brought them to his
lips, contemplating. "That effectively
eliminates all time paradoxes then," he said.
"I assume Red Periods cover Periods of
important biological change. The Black
Periods have a span long enough that if a person
changes something in year one, Black Period One,
it wouldn't matter in year one, Black Period
Two." "Right," Kjanders said.
  Janeway had enough theory. She wanted something she
could use to help Torres, Kim, and Neelix.
"What is today's date as you people count it in Real
Time?"
  "I don't know exactly," Kjanders said. "As
I mentioned, I didn't plan my trip here. I
am guessing that it is about three hundred thousand, one
hundred, give or take some years, Period
Eight-eighty-nine." Janeway nodded.
"And where exactly are my people, in your Real Time
years?" "Three thousand seventy-one Real Time,
Period Eight-eighty-nine. And that's their
problem," Kjanders said. "They didn't jump far
enough. Timejumping within a Period is forbidden. The
trip here is the first time I have ever done it."
  "So your people are not allowed to see short-term
futures," Tuvok said. "Or the short-term
past," Kjanders said.
  "This is important?" Chakotay asked.
  "It prevents fiscal speculation through
timeea"...Tuvok said. "It also prevents a person from
killing his own grandfather and all the other standard time
paradoxes. In other words, when these people get in 93
  ships, they only move at
five-hundred-thousand-year jumps exactly." "That
seems quite important," Janeway said. "No
wonder your people protect it so ferociously. What
happens to someone who jumps inside a PeriodThat'
"In school they used a metaphor to describe the
ships. The metaphor is Caxton's and clearly
dated, but it might work for you. Since he belonged to a
society that looked at Planet-Hopping-was
  "Planet-Hopping?" Chakotay asked.
  Kjanders shrugged. "That's what your form of
travel is called. It's not very well understood
anymore.
  Janeway suppressed a sigh. She understood
her officers' fascination-she shared it-but the more she
discovered from Kjanders, the more she under- stood what
deep trouble her away team was in. "Continue,
Mr. Kjanders." "Oh, yes. As I was saying,
since his society is similar to yours you might
appreciate his description. He said each ship
is set to run on rails between time Periods. There
are no rails, of course, but he was trying
to explain the new form of travel to a culture that
rode on rails to a prescribed destination every day."
  No physical rails. Janeway stored that knowledge
for Carey. But some sort of predetermined destination
system existed.
  "Since each ship is set to run a strict line
between time Periods, travel inside a single
Period is very, very rare and only possible
by Control." Kjanders glanced around at his
three-member audience and then 94
  focused again on Janeway. "I haven't heard
of anyone, doing it in my lifetime, but I do know that
the
  punishment is death. I'm sorry."
  "Death!" Janeway said. She had had a feeling
about this. "That would be logical," Tuvok said. He
looked into Janeway's startled gaze. "Anyone
jumping within a Period would have the opportunity of
causing paradoxes or altering the time line enough
to destroy the entire culture." Kjander's nodded.
"It's what is taught as basic in the earliest
classes in our schools. To us jumping outside of
Period is so unthinkable as to almost not be imaginable.
In fact, just suggesting it is a code violation.
When your crew showed up it caused quite a stir and then
when they tried to escape they got themselves into even more
problems."
  "How?" Janeway asked, almost afraid to hear
the gnswer. "They refused to go peacefully with a Time
Control guard, so when they tried to escape back
to the shuttle that brought them, they caused a Time
Alarm."
  "A Time Alarm."
  "Time Control guards were forced to jump in time to a
point right before they got to the ship. Causing a Time
Alarm is also punishable by death." "But you saw them
alive?" Janeway asked.
  Kjanders nodded. "When I left they were being
escorted to Mean Time Control for Period
Eighteighty-nine. My guess is they will be taken
from there to Mean Time Control Headquarters."
  "When would that be?" Tuvok said.
  "It's in Real Time in the First Period,"
Kjanders said. The equation actually formed in
Janeway's head. Her crew existed (889 X
500,000) plus 300,000 years in the past.
  "That's four hundred forty four million
years," she said, almost to herself. She couldn't fathom
that number. It was little more than a collection of zeros
to her.
  Tuvok let his templed hands fall to the table.
He leaned toward Kjanders. "You seem quite calm for a
man who accidentally wandered into a death sen- tence."
  Kjanders looked up at Tuvok, startled.
  "I assume you fall under the same regulations as
our colleagues." "Yes," Kjanders said, "but
I'm not on Alcawell anymore. Control can
"t come up here."
  Chakotay shot a knowing look at Tuvok.
"Is that why you're here, Mr. Kjanders? To escape
Control?"
  "You brought me to the ship." Kjanders set down his
fork. "I guess I have been remiss. A man
really should say thank you to the people who have saved
his life."

  IF TORRES HADN'T KNOWN SHE HAD
GONE OVER FOUR HUN-DRED million years
into the past, she wouldn't have been able to tell at first
glance. The shuttle doors opened into a shuttlebay
remarkably similar to the one so far away in the
future.
  "You folks don't really have an eye for interior
decoration, do you?" Neelix said to the guard who
brought them here. The guard, as usual, ignored him.
  Kim stepped out of the shuttle last. He glanced
at Torres, the panic making his dark eyes shine.
Yet his posture was straight, his bearing firm, as
if he were getting off a Starfleet shuttle near
an Earth base. The original guard led them down
the ramp. The other guards followed. Torres
expectdd the air to taste different or the
temperature to be different, but the 97
  underground caverns felt the same as before. The air
had the taste of processing and the heat was turned up a
bit too high. A woman waited for them at the
bottom of the ramp. She had purple hair piled
in a cone that extended a meter and a half.
Fortunately she had some distance between its
tip and the ceiling. She wore a formfitting outfit
of a shiny white material, and her purple shoes had
pointy bases an eighth of a meter high.
Jewelry sparkled in her hair.
  "I'll take it from here," she said to the first guard.
"You'll get a commendation for this. I've already put it
in your record."
  "Thanks, Cwaner," the guard said. He nodded
to the other orange suits and they climbed back into the
shuttle.
  "You'd better get off the ramp," Cwaner said
to Torres, Kim, and Neelix. "Unless you want
to be slammed into the shuttle when they return
to Eight- eighty-nine."
  Torres led them off the ramp onto the hard
floor. Cwaner looked perfectly balanced on
her absurd shoes. "Welcome to Mean Time
Control Headquarters. I am Cwaner,
assistant to Rawlik. He will be examining your
case." "Will he be able to help us?" Kim asked.
  "Help-T" Cwaner smiled. "Yours is not
to ask for help, but to be grateful for any kindnesses
you receive,"
  "It's not in my nature to be grateful when I
am about to be punished," Torres
snapped.
  Kim touched her arm. Neelix bobbed up and down
at the woman as if he were trying to mollify her.
  "Your headpiece," he said, speaking faster than
usual, "reminds me of a spectacular headpiece
I saw on an excursion seventeen years ago.
It had precious jewels and a bit of gold woven
through it, but it was white and not nearly as tall as yours.
Do you dye it or can you find that color in nature?"
  Cwaner raised a slender, eight-fingered hand to her
hair. "It's an experiment," she said. "Do you like
it? Rawlik said he preferred the blue." "The
purple brings out your eyes," Neelix said. She
smiled. "You should gave your charm for Rawlik."
  "Will it do us any good?" Torres asked.
  Cwaner shrugged. "Not much can hurt you at this
point."
  She led them out of the shuttlebay into a long
corridor that matched the one they had seen in Period
889. This corridor, though, was filled with flowering
plants. Some had bright blue buds, others had
black buds. their odor was rich and pungent,
reminding Torres of ointment her Klingon mother used
to use to polish her breastplates.
  The corridor led into an office complex
filled with more flowering plants, desks, and people wearing
tight variations of Cwaner's outfit. The shoes and
hair were the most outrageous parts. It seemed that
anything that made it impossible to walk was popular
here.
  Cwaner rapped on what looked like a stone wall
three times with the knuckles of her right hand. The 99
  wall slid open, revealing an office almost
half the size Qf the main room. One man sat
behind a long black desk. He appeared to be in his
late twenties. He had brown hair that touched his
collar, a mustache, and, surprisingly, eyewear.
  Computers, scattered papers, and stacks of
2-D photographs covered the surrounding tables.
The chairs were a bright blue. Cwaner's hair
clashed with the entire room. There were'no plants in
here, but there were many books, antique volumes that
gave the room the smell of aging paper. "Thanks,
C-C," Rawlik said. His voice was soft.
She nodded in acknowledgment and backed out the door.
Torres waited until the door snicked shut before
she launched herself at the desk. She planted both
hands on it and leaned toward Rawlik. "I am
tired of people who can't help me, who quote
regulations I have never heard of, and who
accuse me of a crime when I am speaking according to my
native custom."
  Rawlik took off his eyewear, rubbed his eyes,
and leaned back in his chair, a small grin playing
on his face. "Welcome to Period One," he
said. "I am not welcome. I do not feel
welcome. And I don't want your greetings,"
Torres said.
  Kim touched her arm. "Relax," he said.
  She shook him off. Time for going with this idiocy was
through. "You look like someone important," she said.
"I want to know if you can return us to our ship.

  "That would be the Planet-Hopping ship in orbit

  over the central station in Period
Eight-eighty-nine?" Rawlik spoke with a slight
drawl, choosing his words carefully.
  "Our ship doesn't hop," Torres said. The
anger she had been storing was seeping out the edges.
Perhaps the thought of her Klingon mother had sent her over
the edge. "It flies. Through space. From what I can
tell we've comhardly moved a kilometer in
physical distance. I do not like traveling through time.
Send us back to our ship and we will not trouble
you again." "I would like to," Rawlik said. He set
his eyewear on the desk dangerously close
to Torres's fists. The eyewear was tiny gold
frames around clear lenses. "However, I can't.
Please sit."
  "Lieutenant," Kim said. "B'Elanna.
Please. Let's do as he says." Torres
resisted the urge to snarl at the man. She sat at
the edge of the nearest chair, ready to spring up at the
slightest provocation. "All right," she said.
"Tell me why you can't send us back."
  "Frankly-Lieutenant?-you're lucky to be
here at all. Control's Central Counsel will be
reviewing your case because you are Planet-Hoppers.
Let me point out that is a good thing. Usually
citizens who break these laws are captured and
punished without recourse."
  "We had no idea weeawere breaking any laws
when we arrived here, and we're still not certain which laws
were broken," Torres said. "I'm sure we can come
to some sort of understanding as long as you let us return
to our ship."
  "I'm afraid ignorance of the law is no
excuse," 101
  Rawlik said. "And I can do nothing about
that. Nor can I return you to your ship. I can,
however, answer any questions you might have."
  Questions? Torres had a thousand of them. She was about
to ask one when Neelix grinned and opened his hands in
his small conciliatory way. "They keep mentioning
punishment," Neelix said. "Now, I don't know
about you, but as far as I'm concerned that word is a bit
unpleasant. Perhaps if we knew what we were facing
we might be able to temper our behavior to something
appropriate for your culture."
  Rawlik touched his computer screen. "It says
here that you have at least one eight-hundred violation,
two four-hundred violations-was "They said they were
going to waive those!" Neelix. said. 4"-and a
possible six-hundred violation." Rawlik sighed.
"The six-hundred violation is a misdemeanor.
But the others are felonies, I'm afraid." "Which
means whatThat' Kim asked.
  "The punishment is severe," Rawlik said.
"Eighthundred violations cover temporal
tampering."
  "We keep hearing this eight hundred stuff."
Neelix. said. "Just tell us what we did,
please?"
  "Your eight-hundred violation,"
Rawlik said, "was for traveling within a Period,
which falls under a distinct class of regulations, which
are divided into two subsets. Those tamperings
committed with intent, and those committed without."
  "We didn't intend to come here," Torres said.
  "I know." Rawlik fi-owned. "You keep saying
dut 1102
  But it makes no difference, really, except on
your record. The punishment is the same."
  "And that punishment is?" Neelix asked.
  "Death."
  The word hung in the processed air for a moment.
Then Torres said, "Death?"
  Rawlik nodded. "No exceptions.
Eight-hundred violations are the most serious
crimes possible."
  "For most cultures murder is considered the most
serious crime," Torres snapped.
  "This is worse," Rawlik said. "Capital
offenses within Real Time fall in the one-hundred
violations. They have differing punishments." "What can
be worse than murder?" Neelix said.
  "Temporal disturbances," Rawlik said. "In
the wrong hands they can lead to genocide, the complete
destruction of our culture, or the
complete destruc- tion of our world."
  For the third time that day the breath left Torres's
body. "We haven't done any of that, have we?"
  "Not according to my records," Rawlik said. "But you
did commit an eight-hundred violation. We can't
change that."
  Circles within circles within circles.
Torres could barely tolerate Starfleet
regulations. This bureaucratic doublespeak was making
her dizzy. I "All right," she said. "We
committed some kind of horrible crime that's somehow
related to your timetravel culture. You had better
explain culture, crime, and our, involvement in
language we "Planet-Hoppers" can understand."

  She crossed her arms and glared at him with a
bravado she didn't quite feel.
  Rawlik smiled at her and nodded. "I'll
try."
  "Please," she said. "And if you plan to kill
me when you're through, this explanation better be damn
  good$1'
  r

  DRI-CKEL IGNORED HIS
SMALL FLASHLIGHT IN FAVOR OF THE
lantern he had brought. Carefully, he took the
lantern out of his bag. He flicked the On switch
and a flood of light filled the pitch black
caverns, making him feel obscurely lonely.
Normally he never felt lonely. Yet here he
was, in a time he hated, with only himself, his bag,
and unknown scavengers to count on. It took him a
moment to get his bearings. Each movement in time
included a bit of readjusting. As he was getting
older his body adjusted less quickly to the changes in
temperature and humidity. Not to mention the other
problems inherent in a shift. These old Control
caverns were so bone dry and dusty that any fast
movement he might make would send clouds of choking
dust into the air.
  He turned slowly, studying the remains of the old

  chamber. There were still some clay rings where the trees
and flowers used to grow. The remains of a desk
scattered across the floor and wires poked through the
dust like gray snakes.
  Even though he knew that this place had been
abandoned because his people had found dimensional shifting more
interesting than simple time travel, he still
found the empty caverns spooky. Perhaps that had been
the original inspiration for his behavior as a
Watchman.
  He swung the beam of the lantern toward the
corridor. A wall on the right had caved in,
causing a huge rock slide that sloped up into the
ceiling. "Wonderful," he said.
  His own voice echoed until it grew so faint
he could no longer hear it. He wondered how far
away the vibrations traveled. It was actually
amazing that most of these old chambers were still open after so
many years. They had been built solidly. He just
hoped they were solid enough to hold together until he was out
of them.
  He put his bag over his shoulder and clamped the
lantern to his side so as not to blind himself As he
started across the main room, clouds of dust billowed
up with his every step. He kept moving, staying ahead of
it. He found the old magnetic train tunnel right
where he remembered it being'from the maps.
  The last time he'd jumped into this Control had been
over twenty years Real Time ago, and then he had
transported right to the surface from inside the
smaller time chamber of the Back Room. He had
caught scavengers who had jumped forward
to the 1106
  days after the Second Exodus. There had been
six scavengers and it had been easy to scare them
back to their Real Time without many problems. They had
been a religious bunch and he'd played on those
fears the way a professional musician played
an Alcaharp.
  Ten years earlier a small ship of
Planet-Hoppers trying to salvage had set off
another alarm in this Period. After a day of having
equipment and metal appear and disappear around them as
they tried to work, they had left orbit without so much as
a souvenir. Planet-Hoppers, when faced with a
huge ghost port like this one, were easily influenced
by suggestion. In all his years, ghostlike antics
had not failed him yet.
  He studied the old magnetic railcar that was
parked near the opening of the tunnel. The car was a
small, oblong-shaped bullet made of once-shiny
metal. Now, however, the car was buried in dust.
  Carefully, he wiped the dust from the car's side,
pulled on the handle, and winced at the snap! as the
handle came off in his hand. He sighed, making dust
particles float around him. It would have been nice
to save himself the ten-kilometer walk and
half-akilometer climb through the dark. Of course,
he had just been dreaming, and a part of him knew it.
Even in a dry climate like this, too many years had
gone by since anything but a few shuttles had been
serviced and maintained against the years. Well, he was
never one to shirk a good workout. He would get a
sense of what kind of condition the tunnels were
actually in. He dropped the handle in the dust, then
started up the tunnel.
  For the first half kilometer the tunnel went up
at almost a forty-five-degree angle. He was
sweating and covered with dust before he'd gone even a part
of that distance. He slowed to a stop, letting the dust
slowly settle around and behind him.
  "This is stupid," he said, wiping dirt from his
forehead. He was all for regulations-a Watchman
should always use natural means of transport when
available (watchmen Regulations, Section
4,221, Article 96)-but pot when those
regulations asked him to be both grimy and
exhausted. He opened the bag and removed the control
for his personal, transporter. Some of the swirling
dust finally caught in his throat and a coughing fit
dislodged even more dust from the ceiling and walls.
Dimly he was aware he was making matters
worse.
  Finally he held his breath, choking back any
coughs that threatened, until the dust settled enough to be
only a foglike substance swirling in the
lamplight. Then he made himself breathe slowly,
promising himself a deep satisfying cough attack
when he reached the surface. He flipped open the
Attached panel for the transporter on his belt.
Then he opened the panel for the personal
invisibility shields, located on the other side
of his belt. Only Watchmen and high-security
lowprofile police were allowed invisibility
shields (watchmen Regulations, Section
66,719, Article 2), and for that he was grateful.
It would make his job extremely difficult if the
average Alcawellian even knew invisibility
properties existed.
  Still, invisibility wasn't perfect. For a
fraction of a 1108 *
  second, he wouldn't be covered when he reached the
surface. tHe couldn't transport and have his
invisibility screen turned on at the same time.
They hadn't solved that problem yet. Or at least
hadn't given the solution to him yet. He would have
to chance that the Planet-Hoppers wouldn't
see him. They rarely had sensors that good, and even
if they did, he'd be gone almost instantaneously.
They'd never trace him.
  He punched the transporter button and the next
thing he felt was the cold wind blowing sand against his
face like stinging hailstones. "Wonderful climate,"
he said, turning away from the wind and keying in his
invisibility shield. "I almost prefer the dust."
He found his coat in his case and put it on, then
snuggled a cap down over his head and put on a
pair of goggles to protect his eyes from the flying
sand. With a quick glance around at all the broken-down
old time shuttles, he started off at a steady
pace toward the site where the Planet-Hoppers had
touched down.
  Janeway sat behind her desk in the ready room,
her personal computer screen displaying the ship that had
taken her away team from her. She had retired in
here to study her options, review the situation, and
to think about all that Kjanders had told them.
  Like Chakotay, she didn't trust Kjanders. But
he seemed to be telling the truth about the
Alcawellian society. Tbvok and Chakotay
had hit on the main problem, though. Kjanders seemed
very unconcerned about his own possible death
sentence.
  She had confined him to quarters until she learned
more. tilde She leaned back in her chair. Her
ready room failed to soothe her. The view out the
long windows included glimpses of comAlcawell,
and even though she couldn't see the hundreds of thousands
of shuttles on the surface, she could picture
them, lined up in their perfect rows. Sometimes she
felt completely at sea in this part of the galaxy.
Relying on Neelix only proved fifty percent
effective. He got them help some of the time, and
into trouble all the rest.
  She only hoped he would be able to get them
into trouble again because that would mean he was back on board.
  She hadn't had time to check on Kes. The
slight, pretty Ocampa had proven herself
invaluable. Janeway knew that she would be having
trouble, knowing that Neelix was a long way in the past.
  Then Tuvok hailed her from the bridge.
"Captain," he said. "I have a-was His
transmission stopped, but the link remained open.
Curious. "What is it, Mr. Tuvok?"
Janeway asked. She half rose from her seat,
ready to goeaffthe bridge.
  "Forgive me, Captain," he said.
"For a second MY sensors registered a
life-form on the planet's surface.
Humanoid, about ten kilometers from the place the
away team disappeared. Then it vanished without a
trace." "Is there a problem with the sensors, Mr.
Tuvok?" "I don't think so, Captain. It was
almost as if the humanoid cloaked." 11*10
  Janeway sighed. "Run a diagnostic and
continue your sensor sweep. If that humanoid is
cloaked and showed up once, the cloaking device is
faulty. It'll show up again."
  "I am on it, Captain."
  "Good," Janeway said. She cut the link. Then
she hailed Chakotay and asked him to join her in her
ready room. Her options were limited, and she was
facing several problems. She had to find her away
team, as well as concentrate on keeping the ship in
good order. Shedidn't want to think about how well
Voyager would function if Torres never
returned. Carey was a good engineer, but Torres was
brilliant.
  The door to the ready room hissed open. and
Chakotay entered. "You wish to see me,
Captain?"
  She nodded. "I've been considering the
informa-. tion our guest gave us. I'm
reluctant to send another team down to the planet's
surface, but I see no choice in the matter, do
you?"
  "A careful examination of the time shuttle would be,
as Tuvok might put it, the logical thing to do,"
Chakotay said.
  "Whom would you suggest?" Janeway asked.
She'd been going over possibles. Realizing that none
of them might come back made her evaluate everyone
on the ship. None of them were dispensable. She was
fortunate. Even though she was seventy-five years
from home, she had been stranded with an excellent
team.
  She had thought of going herself, but knew that while her
scientific knowledge was valuable, her abilities as
captain were even more so. "The choices are difficult
, was Chakotay said, "but I 1111
  too have been giving this some thought. Seska is an
excellent engineer in her own right. Tavok has knowledge
that might help. I believe I would be a good
choice for the team. I also feel it's my duty
to inform you that Lieutenant Paris volunteered. He
is anxious to find Kim and would like to help in any
way he can."
  Janeway permitted herself a small smile.
Chakotay felt the same urge to be involved that
she did. "I need you here. I'd like you to follow up
on our guest, see if you can get more information from him.
But the rest of your suggestions are good."
  She stood. "Let's assemble the team."
  Chakotay nodded. Together they left the ready
room. The bridge was quiet. Paris sat at
conn, Tuvok was bent over his control panels at
security, and Jarvin stood at ops. As
Janeway walked toward the captain's chair, the
turbolift opened. Kes left it. Her small
face appeared composed, but she was twisting her hands
together. Janeway nodded at her, then turned
to Tuvok.
  "Mr. Tuvok, I am sending you, Lieutenant
Paris, and Ensign Seska to the planet's
surface. I want you to discover all you can about those
ships without leaving us for the distant past. Is that
understood?" "Yes, Captain."
  Paris stood. "Thank you, Captain. I've
been worried about Kim." "As have we all,
Lieutenant. We're doing what we can. Assemble
your supplies and meet in the transporter room.
The sooner we move on this, the better off
we'll be," Janeway said.
  "Excuse me, Captain, but I would like to go as
well." Kes's soft voice had a thread of
strength running through it. She was difficult to deny.
Janeway turned to her. "I understand your desire
to be involved," she said, "but I need mostly
technical skill down there. When I find something you
can help with, I will summon you immediately."
  Kes looked at her hands as if they were betraying
her; then she clasped them behind her back. Without that
single repetitive movement, she appeared very
calm. "May I stay on the bridge?"
  "Of course," Janeway said. She faced
Chakotay. "I want transporter locks at
all times on the away team. If anything so much as
moves down there, I want all of them back on
board."
  "Immediately, Captain," Chakotay said.
  Tuvok contacted Seska and asked her to meet
him in the transporter room. Then he motioned
Paris to follow him, and headed for the turbolift.
Paris was right beside him.
  JfLneway watched them go, hoping against hope that
it wouldn't be the last time she would see them. But she
had a bad feeling. A very bad one indeed.

  His "SENSOR BEEPED SOFMY AND --
DRICKEL DUCKED IN BE-HIND the wreck of
an old shuttle to get out of the incessant wind.
He'd walked on the hard concrete for some distance and
he was chilled to the bone. His legs ached from the climb
through sand drifts and his cheeks felt as if the blowing
sand had taken off the top three layers of skin.
He doubted he would ever feel his nose again. Just
once he wished the Planet-Hoppers would land in a
warm climate. Just once.
  He checked the sensor readings. Three
PlanetHoppers were working around an old shuttle a
kilometer ahead. They hadn't entered it yet, but were
staying outside in the wind for some reason. His
sensors indicated they we're running different
types of scans on the craft. It took him a
moment before he 114
  noticed the orange point of light that his sensors
showed for the ship they were scanning.
  His stomach twisted. That very ship was.one of the few
remaining ships kept in working condition for this time. How
had they found it? He couldn't let them get on
board. It was far too dangerous to use, and if they
did happen to accidentally trigger a jump,
they would find themselves in very serious problems back in
Real Time.
  He did a quick check of his invisib i ility
device to make sure it was still functioning; then he
took off at a quick jog through the tombstones of the old
culture. The ships towered over him, their sides and
bottoms scarred from the wind and sand. Sometimes the
unreality of his job struck him. Just a few hours
before, he had ridden one of these shuttles. It had
been in beautiful condition then and filled with
passengers.
  He ran silently, careful not to trip on
anything. He left footprints in the sand, but the
wind was so strong the prints were blown away as soon
as he made them. His heart was pounding, not with effort,
but with something close to fear. If he didn't reach
those Planet-Hoppcrs in time, they would take a
ride that would lead to almost certain death. Finally he
stopped in the shelter of a shuttle whose landing gear had
given way. He tried to find a position where the
swirling wind wouldn't blow sand in his nose. The
three Planet-Hoppers were conferring near the foot
of the ramp into the live ship. He could hear their
voices, little sounds almost audible. The wind Vis
  snatched away the words before he could make
them out. The Planet-Hoppers kept looking at the
shuttle's door. He had arrived just in time.
  The Planet-Hoppers were different from any people he
had ever seen before. And different from each other. Two
appeared to be male, one pale and the other dark. The
dark male had pointed ears. The woman appeared
to be a mixture of both. She had dark hair
piled on top of her head, and light skin. Her
nose had ridges, and she wore a large piece of
jewelry on one ear. The jewelry jangled and
snapped in the wind. Their clothing was thin and not
appropriate for the weather. As he watched, the
woman ran her hands over her arms in an attempt
to warm herself. Drickel grinned. Served them right for
bringing him to this desolate place. They weren't
ready to go inside yet. He had a moment. He
scanned the surrounding area among the broken shuttle
and blown sand for anything that might scare them off.
Twenty meters from him, half buried in sand, was a
square metal plate blown off the outside of a
ship. That would work for starters.
  He grabbed a tiny antigravity disk from his
belt, jogged to the plate, and placed the disk in the
center of the metal. Holding the plate carefully with
one hand so as to not obviously hide any of the
metal with his invisibility, he floated it through the
wind toward the three Planet-Hoppers. The
plate bobbed and weaved slightly, like a young
bureaucrat on new,, impractical
  shoes. With the wind and blowing sand, the effect was
eerie, just as he had hoped.
  The tall pale man was the first to see the plate
floating at them. He spun with what looked to be a
weapon suddenly out and ready. "Quick," Drickel
murmured appreciatively.
  The woman took a step back and also drew her
weapon, while the pointed-ears man stood firm,
staring intently at the plate. It wobbled as it
approached them, its trajectory uncertain, its
balance precarious. Drickel floated the plate
within ten meters of the Planet-Hoppers and theli let
it fall. It landed with a clang on the pavement. The
whistling of the wind and the faint rustling of the blowing sand
soon took-the sound away. The pointed-eared one
continued to stare at the plate while the other two,
weapons drawn, scanned the entire area.
Drickel chuckled to himself and moved back to the
shelter of the nearby ship, being careful to not step in
any sand drifts.
  As he watched the three talked loudly,
but not loud enough for him to hear through the wind. Finally the
pointed-eared one walked slowly over and prodded the
edge of the heavy plate with his foot. When it didn't
move that way, he crouched and tried to lift the edge.
He managed to get it a few centimeters off the
ground. Then he let it fall. He took out an
instrument that looked like some sort of scanning
device. First he used the instrument to scan the
plate. Then he swept the scanner over the entire
area. Drickel was glad he had double-checked his
invisibility device. 1,17
  Pointed Ears shook his head, and said something over
his shoulder to the others. They looked as skeptical as
he did.
  "He's going to be a tough sell," Drickel
said under his breath. He would have to try something more
impressive. No woo-woo noises and floating
plates for these Planet-Hoppers. He needed
something that would defy their understanding of reality.
  Higlanced at the ship that rose over his head. The
three landing legs had given away and time had eroded
most of the base. The ra MNP had been smashed
underneath when it fell. Part of the door was visible and
open and sand had filled the interior. A large
drift of sand had formed on one side. The
entire ship looked as if it would crumble in the next
big wind gust. Only the extremely dry
climate had kept it in one piece this long. It
would be perfect for a great effect.
  Drickel opened up his bag and pulled out the
antigravity pads. It would take three to lift this
old hulk, but the effort would be worth it. He worked
his way around the wreck, placing the antigravity
pads equal distances apart and being careful again to not
leave deep prints in any sand. Then he moved
over to the downwind side of another wrecked shuttle
and pulled the remote control out of his bag. The
three Planet-Hoppers still stood near the metal
plate talking and running occasional scans. They were
talking animatedly as they did so. The pale man
was gesturing as he spoke. The woman still had her
arms clasped around herself, her teeth obviously
chattering. 41118
  She glanced around every few moments. If they-had a
weak link, she was it, he would wager.
  Pointed Ears remained focused on the plate.
He scanned it again, pointed at something on the
readout, and frowned. He seemed unconcerned by the
cold or the wind. The pale man's face had
turned red in the weather. The woman was
speaking now with such force that her head bobbed with each
word. He aimed the remote at the old wreck.
"Let's see, how they like this." Metal screeched
against metal, jarring Drickel's teeth, and sending
shivers down his back. Then the old shuttle lurched
from the sand and pavement that had held it for a thousand
years. It rose five meters. "Nice,"
Drickel said to himself at the effect. Crushed landing
gear and the old ramp dangled like broken limbs under
the wreck. The wind gave it a slightly shifting
look as the antigravity units kept it level.
  The legs banged and smashed around in the wind
until one finally tore loose and fell back to the
pavement.
  The Planet-Hoppers had all turned at the
first noise and then taken several steps back from the
rising wreck. The pale man watched, then
scurried around slightly to, one side,
apparently to get a different view. The woman just
stood, mouth open, hands clutching her elbows. She
suddenly looked less cold and more frightened.
Drickel would have counted the moment a success if not
for Pointed Ears. He had out his sensory device
and had it aimed at the floating wreck.
  "Don't spook easy, do you?"
Drickel said. "How lie
  about this?" He slowly moved the ship in the
direction of the three. " Its remaining landing gear
dragged along against the pavement, scraping and grinding
as it moved. The wind howled around them. This sound was
even more unsettling than the first one.
  All three Planet-Hoppers took another
step back in unison. The woman put her hands
over her ears, and the pale one was wincing at the
noise. Old Pointed Ears slapped his chest and
said something Drickel couldn't hear over the horrible
noise. A moment later all three sparkled and then
vanished.
  "Transporter beams," Drickel said.
"Impressive."
  He immediately raised the ship a bit higher so that the
scraping, grinding, and howling would end. Then he spent
the next ten minutes staying out of the wind while moving
the wrecked shuttle around in circles, even once
bumping it against another wreck. He figured the
Planet-Hoppers were probably scanning from
orbit. He didn't want them to tie their presence
to the strange event.
  Finally he lowered the wrecked shuttle back to its
place in the rows of wrecks. The ship
disintegrated when it landed-the legs crumpled beneath
it4 the ramp shattered, and sand spilled out of the
door. Amazing how time controlled everything.
  It took more effort than he wanted to expend
to retrieve his antigravity pads, but he did it
anyway. No point in leaving anything around for the
Planet Hoppers to find if they were brave enough
to return. Then he moved away from the live
shuttle down one row until he found an old
wreck still standing on its 120
  THE ESCAPE
  landing gear with its ramp still fully extended. It
wasn't in the best of shape, but it would do.
  He quickly walked inside. Without the wind, the
air seemed much warmer. He wiped the sand off his
face and hoped he was done with this mission. He would
wait the designated day after they left orbit and
then return to his warm jungle home.
  Janeway stopped in surprise as she entered the
briefing room. Paris, Tuvok, and Seska were
seated at the table. All three had their hands
wrapped around steaming mugs. They still wore their
jackets and they all had windburn on their cheeks.
Paris's nose was still red. Seska's BaJoran
earring was tangled around her ear.
  Carey entered just behind Janeway, as did
Chakotay and Kes. They took their usual
places at the table,, with Janeway at the head.
"All right, people," she said. "I want impressions
as well as information. Tuvok."
  Tuvok took a quick sip of his Vulcan spice
tea-the only sign that he was at all
uncomfortable-and said, "We observed two
unexplained movements of equipment that should not, as far
as I could ascertain, have moved. I do not yet know
what caused the movements, although I do believe that the
movements are not directly related to the shuttle that
the first away team disappeared in."
  "Equipment?" Paris kept one hand wrapped
around his mug, and rested his other elbow on the back of
his chair. "That's an understatement. One 121
  piece of equipment was a wreck twice the size
of a shuttlecraft and older than God. The thing was
moving through the air, sand seeping out of the door and the
holes in its frame, and the wind was howling through it.
Forgive me for being emotional about this, but I found it
damn creepy."
  "So did I," Seska said.
  "Considering the weight and age of the craft, and the
fact that it had no obvious means of
propulsion," Tuvok said, "it was an impressive
show." "Impressive was not the word that came to my
mind," Paris said. Seska nodded. She fiddled with
her earring, her eyes wide. Janeway glanced at
Paris. He was excitable-that was part of his charm-but he
rarely exaggerated events. If anything, he
minimized. The sight of that ruined ship moving through the
air must have been impressive indeed. "Captain,"
Tuvok said, ignoring Paris, "the ruined ship
continued hovering six point three minutes after we
beamed back to Voyager. was "Maybe Neelix was
right," Kes said. "Maybe the place is
haunted." Everyone in the room looked at Kes.
Tuvok raised an eyebrow and, to Janeway's
surprise, Paris did not grin. An uneasy
silence filled the room. Finally, Seska said,
"Bajorans are raised to believe there are many things
we cannot see. We should never discount the spiritual
aspect of any journey."
  "Are you saying there are ghosts on the planet?"
Janeway asked. 1192
  Seska took a deep breath. "With one look
at that ship, you knew it was too dilapidated to work.
Yet it came right at us. I don't know if I
think that is the work of a ghost, but I do know that
the entire experience was unnerving."
  "Perhaps intentionally," Tuvok said. "The metal
plate clearly moved toward us and fell at our
feet as almost a warning."
  Paris nodded. "That's why it felt so creepy,"
he said. "It was almost as if something on the surface
knew we were there and didn't want us around." "That
and the wind," Seska said. "The noise alone was enough
to unsettle anyone."
  "If the ruined ship were moved to scare us, or
to make the place seem "haunted," it would be
logical to continue the movement after the interlopers
left. That way the movement would seem unrelated
to our presence." Tuvok took another sip of his
spice tea. His cheeks were still greenish-brown from the
wind, but his hands looked warmer. "If those time
shuttles still function," Janeway said, "I understand
the need to keep trespassers off the planet. It
would be disastrous to have strangers appear three hundred
thousand years in the past. But that doesn't solve our
problem. We still don't know how to find our away
team." Paris looked up. "Do you think this Kjanders
might know something about this?"
  "I don't think so," Chakotay said. "I just
spent the last half hour with him and he
seems much more interested in our ship than the planet
below. He also 123
  seemed surprised and shaken by the condition of the
shuttle field below. But I will ask him."
  "Please," Janeway said. She glanced around
again. "Any more suggestions?" "Captain,"
Chakotay said. "One more thing about Kjanders. I
believe that confining him to quarters does us no good.
I believe he's up to something. If we know what it
is, we might be able to get more answers out of him."
"Very well, Chakotay," Janeway said, "we'll
let him out of quarters after you brief the crew.
We'll have everyone keep an eye on him."
Chakotay leaned back, apparently satisfied.
  "I have been thinking, Captain, about the planet
below," Tuvok said. "If we return to the
planet's surface, we should find whoever- or
whatever is mov- ing the equipment around. We might
be able to get information about our away team."
  "Good suggestion, Tuvok," Janeway said.
  "Also," Tuvok said, "if it turns out to be one
of the time travelers, he might have a way to return
to the past without having to trust the old shuttle that
kidnapped our crew."
  "So we're. going ghost hunting,"
Paris said. He shook his head and downed the last of
his hot drink. "Wonderful."
  Janeway looked at him. "I take it you are
volunteering again?" Paris nodded. "Can't let a
Vulcan have all the fun. He wouldn't
appreciate it."
  Tuvok glanced at him without a smile.
  "See what I mean?" Paris said. 4124
  (ik
  CHAPTER

  KJANDERS STEPPED OUT OF THE QUARTERS
THAT CAPTAIN Janeway had so nicely
provided for him, and the door hissed closed behind him.
He had never before been in such an orderly place.
Even the colors on Voyager were tame. No bright
oranges, no deep purples. A lot of
grays, soft blues, and an occasional black line
for definition.
  The request that Kjanders had just received from
Chakotay sounded a lot more like an order than an
entreaty. This ship, while seeming more benign, was much
more structured than Alcawell had ever been.
Kjanders doubted he could duck into the background here
and expebledpt to remain forgotten. His
quarters were a case in point. In the short time they
had confined him there, he had had a visitor, several
communications, and an inquiry after his
  health from the guard outside. The inquiry had
startled him the Most-he had been investigating an
out-of-order machine on the wall which, the computer told
him, used to make food. He had been clanging
around inside the machine when the guard had called in
to him.
  The guard was gone now. And even though people nodded
to him as they passed in the corridor, they seemed
less interested in him than they had been before. Good.
He hoped that trend would continue. He didn't
want to call much more attention to himself. Sometimes he
thought Chakotay saw too much as it was.
  Kjanders glanced at the diagram of the ship on the
wall across from his quarters. The ever-present computer,
the diagrams, the passing uniformed crew made him
feel as if he had stumbled into a branch of
Control. A branch that knew how to eat well and
wear comfortable clothing, but a branch all the same.
  Once he located the turbolift, he strode
down the hall at the same confident pace as the rest
of Voyagees crew. Perhaps if they gave him a
uniform. Yes. That might work. He would have
to modify his hairstyle, but that wouldn't bother him.
The more he looked like them, the more they might accept
him.
  He stepped onto the turbolift and asked it
to stop on the level with the officers' mess. It made
a slight hum as it rose. He found it odd that these
Starfleet people did not use transporters to move
around their ship. The ship was large enough that if it existed
on Alcawell, it would have a set of internal
transporters In
  on each level. Starfleet seemed to put a
higher premium on foot travel than
Alcawellians did.
  When he entered the officers' mess, he stopped as
he had the first time and stared out the windows into the darkness
of space. Alcawell was partially visible, its
surface empty and cold. The memory of his
arrival made him shudder.
  "Well," Chakotay said. "You arrived." He
was standing near one of the tables. He had a plate
covered with yellow bread in his hand. At the table were
two steaming mugs.
  "Yes," Kjanders said. "It wasn't as
difficult as I thought it would be." "Good."
Chakotay put the bread down, and sat.
"I asked for corn bread yesterday. They made it
for me today, once they were convinced they had the
ingredients. Would you like some?"
  Kjanders sat beside him and took a bit of bread.
It had a surprisingly sweet taste.
  Chakotay smiled. "A bit of home," he
said. "As is the coffee. Strong and black."
  Kjanders picked up his mug.
  "Be careful," Chakotay said. "It's
bitter."
  Anything that smelled that rich couldn't be bitter.
Kjanders took a sip and nearly spit it out. He
made himself swallow. "You drink this?" he said.
"Most people put sugar and cream in it." He pulled
two other dishes closer. "I like mine strong and
nasty$99
  The words had an ominous ring. Kjanders ignored
them. He shoved sugar into his mug, sipped, and

  decided to add the cream as well. When the
liquid was only slightly darker than the milk,
he finally decided he liked the taste. "I take
it you didn't invite me for a friendly meal," Kjanders
said. "No." Chakotay took a bite of corn
bread, then sipped his coffee. "I want
you to know that I'm the one who got the guard called off
your door and got you the freedom to walk through the
ship."
  Kjanders smiled. "This time I'll remember
to say thanks."
  "Good," Chakotay said as if the thanks didn't
matter at all. "I want you to know, though, that I
understand you. I realize you're running from some- thing.
I don't want that something to interfere with anything on
this ship."
  Kjanders felt hot. He made himself take
another sip of his own coffee. How much had
Chakotay figured out? Kjanders hadn't done
anything to give away his intention of taking over this
ship.
  "So I would suggest you cooperate with me in
getting our team back." "This sounds like a repeat
of the conversation we had tilde Real Time hour ago,
Commander," Kjanders said.
  "It isn't." Chakotay leaned toward him.
Kjanders suddenly realized that Chakotay was a large
man who wore his power very well. "We've just
discovered movement on the planet. Ships lifting
off that shouldn't be able to run, equipment flying on its
own, possibly to scare our people who were
investigating 128
  below. I want to know if someone came with you or if
someone came after you to this time."
  The coEee's bitterness came through all the
sweeteners. Kjanders stomach turned. "I hope
not," he said, allowing his nausea to show. "If they
did, they'll take me back and then I'm a dead
man."
  "Is it customary to send someone after a ti
equals violatorThat' Chakotay asked. Kjanders
shrugged. "That would fall under the eight-hundred
violations, and most of those are classified. We
all know the laws and the punishments, but not how the
enforcement is carried out. If we knew any more than
that, time would be threatened."
  Chakotay turned his head. He took another
bit of his piece of corn bread, chewed, and
swallowed. "You still haven't told me if you arrived
alone." 6 tilde You had me on your scanners.
You know I did." Kjanders's voice rose just a
bit. His Control analogy wasn't far off.
  ""And you have no idea what could cause the
problems down there?" Kjanders shook his head. He
really didn't want to think about the emptiness below.
"For all I know," he said, "it could have
been the wind."
  Torres paced back and forth across their cell. The
fact that they were in something that resembled crew quarters
on the ship didn't make this any less a
prison. Kim sat on an overstuffed chair, and
Neelix reclined on a chaise longue, his hands
clasped behind his head. Torres walked past the
flowering plants (she had 1129
  already picked the blooms off and tossed them into a
disposal-the smell was bringing back too many
memories of growing up) and into the barren kitchen. Not
a weapon in sight.
  Not that she expected one. It wouldn't have mattered
if they had one. Rawlik had let them keep their
phasers. The "back-timing" trick that the guards
had took care of any problem. Torres could stun
someone only to have her phaser confiscated a few
moments earlier. Her head ached from all the double-thought
this time travel culture required. Rawlik had
explained everything carefully, even answering
Neelix's questions-
  (but what good is traveling 500,000 years if
you're stuck at the same desk day after day?
Wouldn't you want. adventure?) comall the time
maintaining eye contact with Torres. She
couldn't tell if he found her attractive or
annoying. Probably neither. Not that it mattered
anyway. He was part of the Control that planned
to kill her. She had had her run-ins with
bureaucracies before. It took a pretty
special person to cut all the red tape.
  Neelix believed Rawlik was that person.
Torres wasn't*sure. She paced to the door,
opened it, and peered down the hall. The same
orange-suited guard stood outside. He smiled
at her. These people were awfully friendly for jailers. She
preferred a bit more rudeness from people who were going
to commit something as personal as murder. She slammed
the door shut. 1130
  "Eventually," Neelix said without opening his
eyes, "the door will shatter and, they'll slap
another violation on us. What do you think the penalty
is for door-shattering?"
  "Death," Kim said. His tone was dry. "After
all, it does affect travel." Torres
frowned. She remembered Kim's dark sense of
humor from when she had been trapped with him in the
Ocampa Hospital. No wonder he was able
to keep himself superficially calm during all this
turmoil. He had a running commentary of
dry, witty remarks to keep himself distracted. "I
don't find that funny," Torres said. "We should
be working on a way out of here."
  "They've made it easy," Kim said. "We have
our phasers and the door isn't locked. The guard
isn't strong enough to fight the three of us." "There's just
this little matter of an underground cavern and four
hundred and forty four million years," Neelix
said. He opened his eyes. When he was serious, he
looked a bit like a wet puppy. "I hope Kes
is all right." "I'm sure she's fine,"
Torres said. "She's on Voyager. And how can you
be so relaxed? It was your naps that got us in trouble
in the first place." "Talaxians have more need of
sleep than humans do." He paused, looked a
bit chagrined. "Or Klingons. Or whatever you're
calling yourself today." "I think my Klingon side is
beginning to become dominant." Torres said each word
slowly and with emphasis. "And for once I don't
believe I'll fight it."
  At that statement Kim stood up and blocked her

  path. "Lieutenant, I think you're right. I
think we should figure out how to get out of here."
  "After I kill Neelix," she said, but
did not push past Kim. "Don't worry,"
Neelix. said. "The Mean people will soon take care
of that for you." He sat up, yawned, and then
stretched. He stood, walked to the kitchen, and
banged around the cupboards for a moment. "They named
themselves well," he mumbled. "Only Mean people would
give us such a wonderful kitchen and forget the food.
I was hoping to whip up some breakfast, since my
stomach tells me it is that time of the day." Torres
sat on the nearest chair so hard that it groaned beneath
her weight. Maybe her Klingon side
was.dominating, because she was hungry. Her stomach was
growling. She had just ignored it with everything else
going on. Kim remained in the middle of the room, as
if he expected Torres to spring across any moment
and attack Neelix. She wouldn't. She knew
better. It was just that sometimes the little man got on her
nerves. Seriously on her nerves.
  Faint laughter floated through the door. Kim
turned toward it. Torres sat up. Neelix
came out of the kitchen holding a small shiny pan.
A moment later Rawlik walked in, smiling.
  "Ah," Neelix said to Kim, "a smile.
It's a friendly comsmile too. I hope this means
we're about to be rescued."
  "'Well," Rawlik said, "we're a step
closer. I got the council to postpone their decision
until tomorrow."
  "Postpone?"'Kim asked. "What does that
meanThat"
  "It means we're not going to die tonight," Torres
said. Rawlik glanced at her, his expression soft
and sympathetic. "Each delay is promising."
  "I heard that when I was applying for Starfleet
Academy," Torres said. "And you got in,"
Kim said.
  Rawlik sat beside Torres. The man was
sensitive. He didn't sit too close, but he
wasn't too far away either. "I promise you,"
he said as if he were speaking to her only, "that I will
be working through the night to find anything I can find
to save you, We are not a barbaric society. We
just have some very strict laws about breaking the time-travel
restrictions." "Very strict," Neelix said.
"Veeeeery strict. So strict, in fact, that I
would hate to see your definition of rigid."
  Rawlik shot Neelix an uncertain glance.
Kim sat down across from Rawlik. "I'm
sorry," Kim said. "We do appreciate all that
you're doing for us. The day has been a bit
stressful and being hungry isn't helping."
Rawlik looked shocked for a moment. "I never
thought," he said.. "I will have dinner brought here to Y.

  A bit stressful? Torres mouthed behind
Rawlik's back. Kim ignored her.
"Thanks," he said. "We'd appreciate it."
  Yes, They all appreciated one last meal.
"Tell me," *133
  Torres said, "What are you planning to do in our
defense tomorrow?" Rawlik turned to her. He did like
her. She could see it in his eyes. Not that she had
given him any encouragement. Not that their friendship had
any real future.
  "I'm afraid," he said, "there is no defense
for what you've done. It is a matter of record.
I honestly believe the only hope is to plead your
ignorance of our culture and then plead for mercy."
  "Has that ever worked?" Neelix asked from across the
room. "No," Rawlik said softly. "It never
has."

  AS THE TRANSPORTER BEAM RELEASED
HIM, PARIS GLANCED around at the windblown
surface of the planet. The ghost shuttle
was back in place and the wind had already erased most
of the marks in the sand from the dragging ramp. The metal
plate that had first floated at them was already covered
by sand, with the wind piling more around it by the minute.
  Paris pulled out his tricorder while beside him
Tuvok did the same. The captain had decided that
this time only the two of them would beam down. They
weren't so much working on the shuttle as looking for
whoever or whatever was moving things around.
  Paris scanned the area to his right, while
Tuvok scanned the area to the left. Sand, sand, and
more sand. Beneath bits of metal and pavement. "Noth-
ing,"" Paris said.
  Tuvok nodded and moved purposefujly across the
opening between the ships toward the ghost ship. Paris
followed, pulling the collar on his coat up as high
as it would go to protect his face from the stinging bite of the
blowing sand. This was the driest planet Paris had ever
been on. He could feel his nose clog up and his
eyes fight to keep enough moisture. And they were on the
winter side of the planet. He didn't want
to imagine what the summer would be like-sand and concrete
surrounded by thousands of huge hunks of metal. The
heat would be as intense as the cold. Tuvok moved
straight toward the ghost ship, not seeming
even to notice the wind.
  Tuvok never seemed to notice anything. Sometimes
Paris thought Vulcans had turned off parts of their
bodies except their brains. If Paris ever did
that he would have nothing left to live for. A bit of
excitement, a beautiful woman, and a ship to pilot
were all he asked for out of life. He didn't care
if he had the same woman or the same ship from day
to day, but he did care if he missed out on his
excitement. He was hoping, just hoping, that the ghost would
reappear and attempt to scare them again. The last time
had been a touch frightening. This time would be
exhilarating.
  And if the ghost could lead them to Kim and the others,
Paris would be damn pleased.
  Damn pleased.
  TV-VOK stopped near the ghost shuttle and used
his tricorder to scan the shuttle at close
range. Sometimes Tuvok's tricorder seemed
to be an extension of his brain. Together they learned
things.that Paris could 136
  just guess at. Still, Tuvok would need Paris when
it came time to rush the ghost. Sometimes the logical,
considered reaction was not the best reaction.
Apparently Tavok's tricorder
didn't pick anything up, because he moved another
few steps. Paris turned his back to the wind,
keeping his gaze on Tuvok at all times.
Sure, Voyager could beam them up if they got
separated, but in this cold and wind, the wrong few
minutes alone could be deadly. Paris scanned the
surrounding shuttles for any movement besides wind.
Nothing. This place was as dead as any place he'd
ever seen. What had Kjanders said? That this place was
once alive and flowing with people? Paris found that almost
hard to believe.
  Tuvok nodded to himself and moved around the shuttle,
stopping every few meters to take another scan.
Paris followed closely behind, guarding Tuvok's
back.
  On the other side of the wreck the landing gear had
collapsed under the weight, and parts of the ramp
provided a wedge, leaving the shuttle canted" at
an odd angle. That angle was just enough to protect them
from the wind, and Tuvok motioned they should go under there.
Without the sand blowing at them, the pocket of calm
felt almost livable. Paris wiped his face and
looked at Tuvok. Sand crusted Tuvok's
upswept eye- brows, giving him a look of great
age.
  They could talk here without shouting.
  "Anything?" Paris asked.
  Thvok nodded and pointed upward. "See that faint
dent in the plate there?" 137
  Paris studied the plate until he saw what
Thvok was pointing toward. A dent in a very old
piece of metal that no one would notice. "Yeah."
Tuvok.checked his tricorder again. "A small
antigravity device was attached there not too long
ago. TW-O other similar devices were spaced
around this ship."
  Paris scanned the area, but couldn't find the
anomaly that led Tuvok to his conclusion. That
didn't surprise him. Paris was a bit casual
on some of his science-when it didn't apply
to piloting. He was willing to trust Tuvok, "Any
idea who did this?"
  "Unknown," Tuvok said. "But it seems that our
"ghost," as you have all been calling him, uses
technology to achieve his effects."
  "You were worried?" Paris said.
  Tuvok gave him a measured gaze. "Of
course not."
  "So now that we know a living agent brought about these
spectral events, how come it hasn't come
for us again?" Paris asked. "Because," Tuvok said,
"we have not approached the item it is protecting."
Paris stared at Tuvok for a moment before he said,
"The working time shuttle."
  Tuvok nodded. "Exactly."
  "Logical," Paris said.
  "Of course," Tuvok said without so much as even a
smile. He led the way back across the open,
windblown area between the shuttles. The first blast of
wind-driven sand felt like tiny pieces, of broken
glass hitting his skin. Paris brought his collar up
even In
  higher, wishing he had thought to wear some kind of
extreme-weather gear. They stopped at the bottom
of the ramp of the shuttle that had taken the first away
team and brought back Kjanders. They used their
tricorders, to scan for any movement or signs of
anything. Paris got nothing. Not a movement, not a
sign of life. Nothing.
  Finally Tuvok moved about halfway up the ramp
and stopped, waiting, holding up his tricorder,
getting readings of the surrounding area. Paris stopped
a meter below him and did the same. Nothing moved.
Nothing floated at them.
  "I'm going to widen my scan," Paris
said, shouting in the wind. "Our ghost might be coming from a
distance."
  Tuvok nodded. "I will study the ship while you
stand guard." Tuvok turned and moved another few
steps up the ramp, his gaze intent on the
tricorder in his hand.
  . Paris walked down the ramp, wincing at the
strength of the wind. Alcawellians didn't want
to leave this place? They preferred traveling through time
to traveling in space? Obviously they didn't know
that the vast universe had other things to offer besides
cold, driving winds. Using the ship as the center of a
circle, he estimated the distance between the other ships
and methodically opened up the scan by that distance. He
carefully scanned the full circle around the ship,
paying close attention to the area blocked from their
sight on the other side of the shuttle. He knew that
on board 139
  Voyager, Lieutenant Carey was also
continuously scanning the area, but at the moment Paris
wished it were Kim up there. Paris trusted Carey,
but he'd have just felt better if it were Kim.
  It wasn't until he widened his field of
scan a second time to the distance of about five of the
old wrecks away that he caught movement
to the north. He tapped his comm badge, opening the
link to Carey in Engineering. "Lieutenant, focus
down on an area about half a kilometer to our
north." There was a moment of silence, then Carey
came back on. "I have some small movement
inside a shuttle five wrecks down from you.
Nothing alive. Just slight movement of what looks
to be a piece of ceiling panel on one of the old
ships. Might be normal settling and collapse.
I'm getting lots of that kind of reading throughout the
field with the wind kicking up the way it is this time of the
day."
  "Thank you. Paris out." That reading from Carey
confirmed the readings Paris had. But there was something
odd about this one and he just couldn't dismiss it. He
wasn't sure why. That wouldn't play well with a
Vulcan. He sighed, shielded his eyes, and.
faced the ramp, motioning Tlivok to join him.
  Paris told Tuvok what he had seen and that
Carey had confirmed it. Then he said, "I know the
wind is blowing like a son of a gun out here, and I know
these ships are going to settle. I just can't believe
one would settle this close to us."
  Tuvok glanced at him, then back at his own
tricorder. Paris could see he was doing
another quick 140
  scan of the area. When it came up negative,
he looked back up at Paris. Paris shrugged.
"Call it a hunch. I never abandon a hunch."
  Tuvok nodded. "We are getting nowhere here.
Examining another site would be logical."
  Paris grinned. "Great. I didn't think
convincing you would be this easy." "I have been around
humans a long time," Tuvok said. "And, over the
years, I have learned that hunches are often based on
things seen but improperly processed. You
probably read something you failed to understand and yet you
had enough sense to know it was important."
  "Ouch," Paris said. "I think I've just been
insulted."
  "Logic is never personal," Tuvok said and
started to walk toward the north. "Yes," Paris
said, "but the dissemination of it often is." He pulled
up his collar again to keep the sand out of his shirt and off
his neck and followed Tuvok to the mystery ship.
  Drickel had been dozing for the last hour, waiting
for the Planet-Hoppers to return as he knew they
would. The ship he had found still open and sitting on its
landing gear was deteriorated almost beyond belief. But
inside, the old padding ripped off two
chairs offered a decent couch for his nap. Besides, in
the ship he was out of the wind. He thought of.setting up
a beating device, but decided against it. The
Planet1141
  Hoppers above might be able to sense that sort of
thing. Ghosts didn't need heat. At least the type
of ghost he was trying to pretend to be. The alarm in his
earpiece woke him when the Planet-Hoppers'
transporter beam dropped them near the live ship.
He stretched and moved, stiffer than he wanted to be
thanks to the cold.
  The Planet-Hoppers' persistence annoyed him.
If they had been scared away the first time he would have
been able to return to home and warmth shortly. But
he had had a bad feeling when he saw Pointed
Ears. The ghost trick had worked on every other
scavenger, but this one seemed intrigued by the events rather
than frightened. And intrigued was the exact opposite
reaction from the one Drickel wanted.
  Drickel double-checked to make sure his shield
was still in place so the Planet-Hoppers wouldn't
see or sense him. It was. He stood, clicked
on his small light,, and stretched.
  "Time to go play ghost again," he said to himself, and his
voice sounded hollow in the almost dark
interior of the ship. He did a few quick stretching
exercises to loosen his muscles, and as he did,
he pondered the problem of Pointed Ears. Maybe
only harmless ghosts intrigued the
Planet-Hopper. Drickel didn't want
to hurt anyone, but threats were some- thing he would find
acceptable. It would take a lot of control-he
certainly wouldn't be able to use a ship again-but he could
do it. If old Pointed Ears thought his life in
danger, he might never set foot on Alcawell
gain.
  Drickel finished his exercises, then stepped
toward the door to pick up his bag and be on his way.
  At that moment the vibrations of his movement in the
old ship, possibly combined with the wind, loosened a
metal ceiling panel. It gave way and dropped.
  He caught enough of a glimpse of it coming, and the sound
of it letting loose also warned him just in enough time to get
his hand above his head. The heavy panel hit his arm,
smashing him to the floor and coming to rest with half of it
on his shoulder and the rest over his lower body. His head
banged hard against the floor and his ears rang. He
tried to cover his head with his good arm, thinking that more things
from the ceiling would come crashing down.
  But nothing did.
  He waited, staying perfectly still, holding his
breath. Nothing more.
  And after a moment it was clear that nothing was going to come
down immediately.
  Then the pain started, a jabbing shot that ran from his
arm to his hand and back into his chest. He closed his
eyes and thought, not allowing himself to panic.
  His movements in the shuttle must have released the
already loose ceiling panel. A mistake on his
part. He should have checked the shuttle more thoroughly before
using it as a base. When he got back he would
ask Control not to send him to any more cold
destinations. His desire to be warm had made him
careless.
  And might have gotten him seriously injured. us
  He took a slow breath, checking to see if any
ribs were broken. It didn't seem so, but his mouth
and throat were totally caked with the dust. He slowly
opened his eyes to get his bearings. His lamp was still
working near his bag, doing its best to light up the
billowing clouds of dust. He was on his side and his
legs, hips, and shoulders were pinned under the weight
of the heavy metal panel. His arm ached and he could
tell he was going to have one hell of a headache. He
just hoped the panel falling on him hadn't
broken his shielding. The Planet-iloppers would
spot him for sure.
  Taking two deep breaths choked with dust, he
tried to raise the metal plate off his shoulders.
Pain shot through his right arm and he quit pushing. The
plate had moved, but it was going to be a slow and very
painful process to get it off himself. If he
didn't do it right, he would end up with more than just a
hurt arm. This plate was so heavy it would crush a
hand or a foot, and then what would he do?
  If he could move his arm down to his belt he
might be able to reach his transporter and beam himself out.
But he would also have to shut off his shield to do that, thus
showing himself to the Planet-Hoppers. That would be his
fast option. He wanted to try to remove the plate
himself first. He took another deep breath and tried
to lift the edge of the plate with his shoulder. It did
move, but not enough to make much difference. It was too
bad his bag was so far away, with its antigravity
disks. He could have floated this off in an instant.
He looked 144
  around for something he could use to pull his bag toward
him, but saw nothing. It was two meters away and
totally out of reach. His only physical choice was
to crawl out carefully and very slowly. He just
hoped the Planet-Hoppers were staying away from that
working shuttle. Because this was going to take some time.

  JANEWAY NORMALLY GOT A LOT OF
IDEAS IN HER READY room, but the ideas that
were coming to her over Alcawell did not please her at
all. She stood in front of the long windows, staring
down at the planet, a cup of traditional coffee
cooling on her desk. Chakotay had brought it
to her. He was sitting in a chair behind her, waiting,
with a patience she could never mimic, for her to explain
why she had brought him here.
  Finally she sighed. Whether she liked the idea or
not didn't matter. What mattered was if it would
get results.
  "Chakotay," she said as she turned to face him.
"I think we have to send another away team into the
past."
  He crossed his arms, but did not look startled.
"I trust you've examined the risks," he said.
  She nodded. She was relieved that he didn't
try to review all the arguments against the trip, as
her first officer on her last commission did. "I've
decided that we've put too much stock in Kjanders.
None of us trust him. If he's speaking
the truth we will lose both teams. But if he's not,
we'll get both teams back."
  "You've never shirked risk before," Chakotay
said. "After all, you tried to capture me. his
  Janeway smiled, at Chakotay's joke and
at his calm acceptance of her idea. She walked
down the steps toward his chair.
  "It seems to me," Janeway said, "that instead of
studying the working ship that we found, we should be tearing
into the other inoperative ships around it to figure out
how they used to work. We know their time travel uses
chroniton particles in some fashion or another.
If we can at least discover how the tracking works on
those other shuttles, we might be able to use their
technology to track an away team through time."
  Chakotay nodded, thinking. "That just might work, but
what-was "Captain," Lieutenant Carey's
voice broke in. Both Chakotay and Janeway
paused. "I think I found something you9ll want
to see."
  Janeway and Chakotay stood in unison and
headed for the door. It slid open quickly and they both
hurried to the bridge.
  Carey stood at the security console. "I was
running standard scans for movement in the area
around the away team," he said as soon as he saw
Chakotay and Janeway, "when it occurred to me that
there may be 147
  movement in the old tunnels belground. So I
expanded my scans to search below the surface."
  Janeway and Chakotay crowded in beside Carey.
He brought up a screen that showed a tunnel,
fairly large and running-in two directions. "This
tunnel is a quarter of a kilometer below the
surface," Carey said, "and fairly close to the
area below Tuvok and Paris. I followed it and
expanded my search to cover the entire base. Here's
what I found."
  He tapped the console, changing the screen
picture. First he showed the huge base; then he
overlaid a very clear pattern of black lines and
spots over it. He placed a large spot in the
middle of the screen. The picture looked like a
spider with a huge number of legs. The body of the
spider was a large cavern. Janeway glanced at
the readout. The main cavem was a kilometer below the
surface.
  "I found most of this in the initial searches,"
Chakotay said. "I know, sir," Carey said.
"These caverns, like everything else down there,
are all long abandoned. Almost all, that is."
  Janeway glanced at Carey. He was bouncing
on his toes, ever so lightly, but enough to ma " ke
himself bob. This discovery had him excited for the first time
since the original away team disappeared. He had
found something important.
  "On a hunch," he said, "I scanned the
underground chamber for the chroniton particles similar
to the ones the shuttle emits." He paused for a
moment, then pulled up a new overlay. "I found
this."
  Janeway leaned forward so she could see the screen
better. Near one side of the main underground chamber,
in a much smaller room, was a strong source of
chroniton particles, continuous and flowing. "After I
called for you," he said, "I scanned the entire
base for traces of those particles."
  Five more green dots appeared on the map.
Janeway's heart started to pound hard. Finally,
something that-tbey might be able to use. She wasn't
sure how yet, but she knew they had made a
breakthrough. "Captain," Carey said, "the shuttle that
took the first away team is still omitting a weak
stream of chroniton particles. It's as if the
engine is on standby."
  Janeway studied the screen. The strongest
source of particles was in the underground chamber. But
scattered near tunnels throughout the base were five
live ships, including the one that took the away
team. Janeway patted Carey on the shoulder.
"Nice work. It looks as if this dead base
isn't quite as dead as we thought it was."
  "This might be part of that solution you were, looking
for, Captain," Chakotay said.
  "Exactly." Janeway turned to Carey.
"Lieutenant, form two engineering parties of no more
than four each. I want you to take apart two of the
dead shuttles and discover how they work. More
importantly, I want to know how we can track
one through time."
  Carey grinned. "I was hoping you'd want me to do
that, Captain. My teams and equipment will be ready
in fifteen minutes."
  Janeway smiled as well. It felt good to have
something to took for, a few possibilities, some
real hope. Now it felt as if they were really doing
something.
  Paris was convinced his face was going to be bleeding
by the time they got back. The wind had come up even
stronger, blowing the tiny grains of sand like
comsmall flying razor blades, cutting and chipping
away at any exposed skin. Even Tuvok
walked with his head down and his eyes protected over
his tricorder. They would check out this hunch, and then
get the hell back to Voyager.
  It took longer than they expected to reach the
fifth ship. The wind was cold and sliced through
Paris's thick regulation jacket. He stopped
below the ship and scanned for movement. The reading he
got disappointed him. Nothing moved except a
metal plate inside, rocking as the ship swayed in
the wind. Paris had an odd feeling about this ship, but
he couldn't tell if the feeling was a warning or a
push to go ahead. "It appears to be empty,"
Tuvok said, studying his tricorder. "Yep,"
Paris said. "So did the pavement when that ship started
flying at us."
  The shuttle leaned to one side slightly, but the
landing gear seemed to be solid enough, and the ramp led
up into a dark opening in the center. Paris walked to the
bottom of the ramp.
  "Let me give it a quick. check," Paris said,
not really wanting to climb that dark ramp. "Then we
can head back."
  Tlivok nodded.
  Paris took a step. His breath was coming hard. That
ghostly visitation on the last trip had spooked him
more than he wanted to admit. "Tuvok- Paris."
The captain's voice shattered his resolve.
Paris sighed with relief at the sudden reprieve.
"Are you having any luck tracking our mysterious
ghost?"
  "No, Captain," Tuvok said.
  "I'm planning on beaming down two engineering
teams to work over the abandoned ships beside the live one.
What size security force would you suggest
to accompany them?"
  "Five for each team," Tuvok said without
hesitation. "Four stationed around the shuttle and one
inside with the engineers."
  "Fine," Janeway said. "I want you both
to beam back aboard. I have another mission I need
you for immediately. I'll meet you in the transporter
room." "Yes, Captain," Tlivok said.
  Apparently Tuvok was anxious to be off the
surface too. Paris glared at the ship. Next
time. He would get to whatever bothered him next time.
Tuvok tapped his comm badge. "Two to beam up."
  Paris glanced up at the ship. That was one hunch
he wasn't going to get to prove. At
least not at the moment.

  i i i
  *15
  DRICKEL HELD HIS BREATH AND
LISTENED TO THE VOICES OF THE
Planet-Hoppers outside the ship. He tried
to make out the words, but he could barely hear their
voices. The wind muffled the sound and broke it
apart. The thick.hull of the shuttle didn't help
either. He kept his finger on his personal
transporter in case the Planet-. Hoppers
came in the door. Before they had arrived he had
managed to push the heavy metal ceiling plate off
his shoulders, but the weight of it still pinned his hips and
legs to the floor. With his arms free he had done a
quick check of his injuries. Beside some bruises, he
had a badly sprained right shoulder and a possible
concussion.
  All in all, he had been very lucky. When he
got back he would consider requesting a regulation
requiring two Watchmen to respond to alarms.

  Of course, if he got back, he would prove
again to himself that he really didn't need an
assistant.
  The wind died for a moment and the voices suddenly
sounded louder. The loneliness he had felt in the
caverns returned, along with a sense of helplessness.
He was getting old. That was the only explanation.
Early in the Watchman's job he would have welcomed
a challenge like this. If the Planet-Hoppers
made it to the top of the ramp, they would see the light
from his lamp. They wouldn't be able to see the lamp itself,
because it and his bag were shielded, but they'd see the
light. And from there it wouldn't take them long to find
him under the metal plate. He pulled his scanner
off his belt and checked to see if it was broken.
Luckily it wasn't. But s " hould he use
it and risk the chance that they might be able to trace the
scan? Or should he simply wait?
  He waited, and kept his finger on the
transporter button. If they came up the
ramp, he would transport out. They'd find the
lamp and maybe the bag, but not much else.
  He strained to listen for more voices, but only the
wind and the sound of his heart filled the silence.
  Maybe they had gone.
  Could he be that lucky9
  He doubted it. This group of
Planet-Hoppers didn't seem like the kind who
gave up easily. And they were very sharp. He had a
good fight ahead of him. He actually relished that.
It had been a long time since he had had a real
challenge.
  So he waited, the heavy metal plate holding
him pinned firmly to the deck. He could feel his
legs, but not move them. He just hoped that when he
got the plate off they would move.
  The silence was more unnerving than the-Noices. When
the wind jarred the shuttle, he winced, expecting the
Planet-Hoppers. But they didn't come.
  After ten Real Time minutes he decided to risk
a quick scan. A second-long scan told him that
the two PlanetHoppers who had been outside the
ship were gone. A three-second scan told him that
no Planet-Hoppers were on the surface at
all. For some reason they had all gone back to their
ship.
  He took a few deep breaths of the dry, dusty
air. He'd been lucky that time. He hooked the
scanner back to his belt, then went back to working
the heavy plate. It moved a fraction of a
millimeter and a sharp pain shot through his hip.
  "Dammit," he said, relaxing on the
floor as much as he could. Moving this off by hand was going
to do nothing but hurt him more. He was going to be forced
to take- a chance with dropping the invisibility
shields and beaming out.
  He studied just exactly where he wanted to beam out
to. Twenty meters out and ten down would put him on
the surface outside the ship. That would be a safe enough
distance.
  But it would be cold.
  And he would be in the wind again.
  He promised himself that if the damage was worse

  than he thought, he would transport to the caverns
for protection and warmth. He knew that he
probably wouldn't need to do that, but the promise
provided incentive.
  Badly needed incentive.
  He would almost rather lie under the plate than face that
deep cold."...He was getting old.
  He double-checked his equipment as best he could.
Then he flicked off his invisibility screen and
almost with the same movement hit the transport code.
The weight of the heavy metal plate suddenly
disappeared from his legs, and he found himself lying in the
same position on concrete surface. The
wind seemed even colder than he expected. Hard
blasts of sand hit his face and got in his mouth before
he could close it. The sand tasted gritty and
instantly made him thirsty.
  He quickly flicked his invisibility screen
back on and then made sure it was functioning
properly. It was.
  Now for the hard part.
  He tried to stand.
  He used his elbows to raise himself to a sitting
position. Pain shot through his shoulder and hips. He
waited until it subsided before pushing himself all the
way to his feet.
  The strong gusts of wind seemed to make him even
more wobbly than he would have been, but both legs
seemed to be working. His hip was stiff and he knew it
was going to be very sore. He took a few shaking
steps and was relieved to discover that he could walk.
  "Good," he said. The cold wind took the word and
  sucked it away before it got to his ears. Other
than his shoulder, the soreness in his hip, and the bump
on his head, he was fine. Definitely not injured enough
to abandon the mission yet. Fifteen Real Time
years ago he'd finished a three-day mission with a
broken wrist and two cracked ribs from a
fall down a hole. He could keep going this time.
He moved back to the wrecked shuttle and up the
ramp into the cloud of dust still billowing inside. When
he beamed out, the plate must have fallen to the floor,
kicking up an incredible ardount of dust. Even with the
glowing light he could barely find the lantern and his
bag. After a moment he found himself coughing and each
cough jarred his sore shoulder. He couldn't stay here.
The ceiling wasn't secure, and it would take forever
for the dust to settle. He needed another place
to warm up, clean up, and rest until the
Planet-Hoppers came back.
  He had only one real option.
  With his good hand he put the lantern back in his
bag and picked up the bag.
  Then, taking his time, he fought his way against the wind
to the working ship the Planet-Hoppers had been so
interested in. If he was going to guard it, he might
as well use it.
  The inside of the working ship was almost clean and warm
compared to the one he'd just come from. He knew which ten
seats of the hundred triggered the automatic time
jump, so he stayed away from them. He glanced around
and sighed. This shuttle would be home for a while, at
least until the Planet-Hoppers came
back.
  He set his bag on the seat closest to him. In
here, at least, he knew the ship wouldn't come down
on him. He could guard it at the same time as chase
the Planet-Hoppers back into deep space. A
good choice. Too bad he hadn't thought of it in the
first place.
  He took a cloth out of his bag and dampened it from
his drinking supply, then wiped his face. It came
away covered with dirt and he repeated the process
three more times until he felt halfway clean.
"Now let's see if I can brace the shoulder a
little." He went to work, pleased that he had been
clearheaded enough to make a strong decision. When,
five minutes later, eighteen Planet-Hoppers
appeared on the pavement outside the ship, he
wondered just how smart his choice had been.

  I
  i! i
  Is
  Pmus's HAND'S wERE jusThat
s-rAR'-R+ TO GET WARM AGMN.
An ache, bone deep, had developed in his fingers.
The ache would turn to a sharp stinging pain before
all the chill had left his hands. He and Tuvok
had been exposed to the wind too long. The
extreme-weather regulation clothing protected, but
nothing except shelter could protect forever. Even
though he hadn't had the chance to investigate that ship,
he was glad he had come back to Voyager. They were
standing in the transporter room, waiting for
Janeway. She had said she would be arriving shortly
with their orders. Paris would have loved enough time for a quick
shower and a chance to get the sand out of his ears. Some of it
had worked its way into his nostrils and mouth. Every time
he bit down, grains of sand ground between his teeth.
lao
  At least Janeway had provided for their
nourishment. When Paris and Tuvok arrived,
Ensign Hoffman had given them each covered
tureens of soup. Paris's was plain tomato-after his
temper tantrum the day he arrived on Voyager,
the crew had not let him forget that he liked his
tomato soup plain and hot, thank you, no
mushrooms, no rice, and no Bolianstyle
cheese towers.
  "I believe I got yours," Tavok said,
extending his soup tureen. "Tomato?" "Very
funny," Paris said.
  "I am not attempting humor," Tuvok said.
  "Right," Paris said. "You're trying to be
polite. I know." But he didn't believe it.
Some of that, he knew, was because he was still smarting from the
hunch comment-and. from the possibility that the comment might
have been right.
  The pneumatic doors hissed open and the captain
came in. A strand of hair had escaped her
normally neat bun and her uniform was rumpled. She
probably hadn't eaten or slept since the away
team disappeared. Truth be told, he hadn't
slept either. He was worried about the whole team,
yes, but mostly he worried about Kim. That little
guy had become like a kid brother to him, and Paris
wasn't going to lose him like this. "Gentlemen,"
Janeway said. "Our focus has shifted sli
ghtly." She quickly explained the discovery of
chroniton particles emitting from the ships and the
source of those particles in the caverns below the
surface. "I'd like you to find that source and see it
is
  usable for us if I determine we need to send a
rescue team."
  "If Kjanders speaks the truth," Tuvok said,
"we risk losing a second away team."
  "I know," Janeway said. "I can't ignore
an opportunity, though, when it presents itself to me
in this way. I also cannot rely on a man that none of
my officers trust."
  Paris winced inwardly at that. There was once a
time when none of her officers trusted him. He
wasn't sure how many did now. But she did, and
Kim did, and, in his own way, Chakotay did.
That was all that mattered. Still, Paris always felt as
if he had to prove himself. Janeway must have read the
expression on his face, because she said, "I don't
want you pulling any grandstand stunts. Is that
understood?" She looked at Paris.
  He grinned. The movement made his windburned
skin crack. "At least," he said, "we'll be out
of the wind."
  "Captain?" Chakotay broke in on the comm.
His voice sounded powerful even through a system that
made most people sound tinny. "Go ahead," Janeway
said.
  "That humanoid form appeared again on the
planet's surface. Briefly, just like before."
  "How long did it last?" Janeway asked.
  "Actually, there were two appearances," Chakotay
said. "One for just a fraction of a second
inside a ship and the other for almost a second outside
the same ship."
  "Which ship?" Paris asked.
  "The ship a quarter of a kilometer to the north of the
original landing site."
  Paris closed his eyes. His hunch had been right.
If he had told the captain, they might have had some
answers by now. "Commander," Janeway said, "did you
check for a transporter beam residual?"
"Captain," Tuvok said softly, "he will find our
beam's residual in that location."
  "'Filter out the beam that originated on
Voyager," Janeway said, glancing at Tuvok.
  "One moment," ChAkotay said.
  "Captain," Paris said, "we were about to go into that
ship just before we beamed out."
  "If their ghost has transporter and cloaking
abilities, Mr. Paris, I doubt you would have
surprised it. More likely it was trying to set up a
trap for you," Janeway said.
  Then Chakotay broke in. "I found a
different transporter trace than the one that
Voyager uses. The humanoid was the same in both
appearances." "So far," Tuvok says, "it
appears we are dealing with one person. I
suspect our ghost works for Kjander's Control in one
form or another." "And he's trying to scare us
away?" Paris asked. "That makes no sense."
"We know of at least one occasion when it worked,"
Tuvok said. "Neelix did tell us that
Alcawell was haunted."
  Janeway smiled sadly. "That he did."
  "Captain," Tuvok said, "I believe that the
cloaking
  device our ghost uses might function in a
similar fashion to a Romulan cloaking device.
If that is the case, tracing it should be fairly
simple." A slight frown appeared between
Janeway's eyes. It was a single line, really,
and Paris had already noted that it meant Janeway was
concentrating on sornething, her mind light-years
away.
  "Exactly, Mr. Tuvok," she said,
finafly. "I'll get right on it." She spun and
hurried from the transporter room.
  "Wow," Paris said. "You sure know how
to excite her."
  "I have observed," Tuvok said, "that she does
enjoy logic."
  I Kjanders sank into a chair in the
officers" mess. The coffee Chakotay had given
him had left him jittery and full of energy. He
had used that energy to explore several sections of the
ship. Voyager was huge, and it wasn't a
passenger ship, as many of the crew had been more than
willing to tell him. One woman with a ridged nose,
small chin, and jewelry on her ear of all
places had told him that the captain would be willing
to take him anywhere he wanted, but it would be a
one-way trip only. He didn't even know what
these Planet-Hoppers used for money-or if they
had a barter system, as Alcawell had had before time
travel of necessity shut that system down.
  His brilliant idea to get into a shuttle and go
to the future had been a bust. Alcawell was
deserted and Planet-Hopping was a frightening
prospect. He hadn't 162
  expected adventure to be so difficult.
Everything else had come easily for him. He had
thought this would too.
  One of the ensigns working the mess had remembered
him and offered him more coffee. The cup cooled beside
him. He stared out the windows. They provided him a
display of his future-long blackness extending forever,
his home planet shrinking in size the farther
away from it he got. This patriotism of his,
surprised him. He had thought he would have been
happy to escape Alcawell. He was happy to be
away from Control, but this starship wasn't much
better. Their regulations just weren't as fierce. The
woman monitoring one of the small stations near
engineering hadn't even let him touch her computer. As
if he would have done anything. Yet.
  His original plan had been to take over the
ship. He had thought it would be easy. All
Alcawellians were taught that Planet-Hoppers
were slow and stupid. But they weren't. They weren't able
to back-time to prevent a crime, but they had other
methods. One of them was to build things so large that a
single man couldn't take them over.
  If he could get to the transporter equipment,
though, he might be able to modify it and, using
Caxton's theories, build a primitive
time-travel ma- chine.
  Then he snorted. If he had had any real
engineering ability, he wouldn't have turned to a life
of crime. Engineers were the comonly truly free people
on Alcawell. 163
  He had always flunked those tests. His tests had
continually shown him to be bureaucratic
material and nothing else.
  His only chance to remain on this ship-and to get time
to learn how to use it-was to do as he had heard Kes
had done. He had to make himself so useful that they
couldn't get rid of him. But what skills did he
have? He was a good thief. He was able to get himself out
of tight situations, and he was agile.
  Otherwise, he was bureaucrat material, and
what place needed another bureaucrat?
  Finally he sipped the tepid liquid and wrinkled
his nose. Still too bitter. But he kind of liked the
jitters the coffee gave him. With more energy, he would
be able to explore more.
  "I knew I would find you here." Chakotay's
voice boomed across the room. Kjanders closed his
eyes. More questions. If he had wanted questions, he would
have let Control catch him before he left Real Time
Period 889. A chair scraped across the floor,
then groaned as Chakotay sat. "Discovered that
coffee was to your taste, huh?"
  Kjanders suppressed a sigh and opened his eyes.
"I like its effects. You didn't tell me it's a
drug."
  "A minor stimulant," Chakotay said. Then
he peered into Kjanders's cup. "Well,
maybe not so minor with all that sugar you've poured in
there." Kjanders picked up the cup, feeling a bit
defensive about its contents. The sugar was the only
thing that made thestuff taste good. "I take it this is
not a social visit."
  Chakotay shook his head. "We're sending a
team into the past. We need to know from you what to expect
and what to avoid."
  Kjanders moved so quickly the coffee ran down the
front of his suit. The brown stain against the
brilliant blue looked faintly disgusting. "That's
insane," he said.
  "We understand that travel within Periods is a
serious crime," Chakotay said. "We just want
to get our people in and out without getting caught."
"They'll catch you," Kjanders said. "They always
do."; "Control seems all-powerful," Chakotay
said. "If they're that powerful, why haven't they
caught you?"
  "Because this place is empty," Kjanders said.
"That's why I got away with it in the first place.
I thought maybe they didn't know where I was, that
I got lost in the system somehow, but no. They
knew I was coming here and they knew I wouldn't
survive. So why waste all that energy and
back-time just for little old me."
  A bitterness he hadn't known he felt came
through as he spoke. He brushed at the coffee stain,
but couldn't get it off with his hands. Chakotay handed
him a cloth from a nearby table. The cloth smelled
of vinegar. "How can we make certain our people get
lost in the system?" Kjanders mopped at'the stain.
The combined smell of vinegar and coffee reminded his
stomach that it didn't like the new liquid. "Look,
Commander, let me explain it to you in this fashion.
Say you're Control and I wanted to escape-from you.
I jump up and run leg
  out the door, or transport to the surface, or
even jump back in time. Anything. And I am
successful at my getaway."
  Chakotay nodded.
  "So, you as Control declare a Time Alarm and
simply short-jump a force back to the moment I
am running out the door. They would greet me there and
my escape would never take place."
  Chakotay sat back in his chair, his hands
folded over his belly. He was obviously thinking and
Kjanders let him think. After a moment he sat
forward again. "So the only chance of success would be
to stay out of ControPs hands and their
attention. Right?" "Correct," Kjanders said. "But
the problem is that your crew members are in
Control's hands, so even if you did rescue them,
the rescue attempt would always be stopped. Always.
Once Control has you, you can never, ever get
away."
  Chakotay pushed himself to his feet. "There has
to be something we are missing," Chakotay said. "Some
way to rescue them."
  Kjanders kept mopping. The stain had woven its
way into the fibers. If this stuff was so difficult
on clothing, what was it doing to his insides?
"Kjanders," Chakotay said softly, "if there is a
way, and you happen to think of it, I am sure the
captain would be very pleased."
  Kjanders grimaced, directing the look at the
stain, even though it was really for Chakotay. Finally,
the idea he had been playing with had presented itself-a
  way to become indispensable. Only the way
to become indispensable was the way to get himself killed.
  He sighed. He wouldn't help them with this one.
He couldn't. He set the cloth down. "Give it
up, Chakotay. You can't help your people. You'll
only lose more people."
  "No wonder your Control became so
strong," Chakotay snapped. "You people give up before
even trying$19
  "No," Kjanders said. "We just value our
lives."
  *17
  IT WAS NOT A GOOD DAY TO DJE.
  Torres used to hate that phrase of her mothees.
Her mother, staunch Klingon"...t she was, sometimes went
inta a difficult situation saying, Today is a good
day to die. And little B'Elanna never agreed. There
never was a good day to die.
  And if there had been, today would not have been it. Her
pacing seemed to have caught on. Kim was pacing too.
They were stalking the room like caged animals. She
knew each centimeter of this place, from its neon
green carpet to its puce furniture. No
windows, only pink walls in the main quarters,
lots of red and chrome in the kitchen and bathroom.
Neelix was sitting on the floor. He had dug the
blossoms she had picked off the trees out of the
garbage and was pulling them apart, petal by petal.
Ioo
  Their stench filled the room, which was probably why
Torres was thinking of her mother again, but she didn't have
the heart to tell Neelix to quit. "She
loves me," Kim said as Neelix pulled one
petal. Torres stopped and looked at him. Had
Kim finally gone over the edge? "She loves me
not," Kim said as Neelix plucked another
petal. "Whatever are you doing?" Torres asked.
  Kim's grin was sheepish. "It's an old child's
game. We played it on Earth. When there's one
petal left you know-is it a "she loves me"
or a "she loves me not"? It should be "Will they
kill me" or "Will they kill me not."" "Will
they kill me," Neelix recited as he pulled
one petal. "Will they kill me not?"
  "Stop it!" Torres reached down, grabbed the
offensive blooms, and took them into the kitchen.-This
time she put them in a compactor unit and turned it
on. The scent of wilted petals filled the kitchen
like a bad perfume. Neelix sighed. "I
suppose that really wasn't funny."
  "I don't think any of this is really funny,"
Kim said. "Neither do L" Torres stood in the
archway between the kitchen and living quarters. "And it
feels wrong to me to wait for some bureaucrat to get
us through a system that doesn't care about us at all."
  "But what can we do?" Kim said. "We already saw
how they back-time to get to us, often at the
point where we just thought of the action," "And," Neelix
said, "as much faith as I have in your 1169
  wonderful Captain Janeway, I don't
believe even she can find us in this horrible place."
  "If she even tried," Kim said, "she would
probably run into the same problems we did."
  "My," Torres said, "aren't we a cheery
bunch?" The other two looked away. Neelix
wiped off his hands and stood. Kim flopped on a
nearby couch.
  "I've been thinking," Torres said. "Rawlik
is right. They'll catch us no matter what. Unless
we succeed."
  "What?" Neelix asked.
  Kim sat up. "Exactly," he said. "If
we succeed and get back to our own time, they won't
back up time to get us."
  "There are days when explanations seem clear,"
Neelix muttered, "and days when I believe I
left my brain in its jar beside my bed."
  Both Torres and Kim turned to him with
surprise. "Figuratively speaking," he said.
  "We're going to have to try," Torres said.
"Even if we fail, at least we will have known that we
tried."
  "Good point," Neelix said. "I hope."
  She looked at him. "Can you draw the guard in the
hall closer to the door?" "Can I draw the guard
closer to the door?" he said in a chiding way. "Just
watch."
  "Wait!" Torres said. "Let me explain this
idea. I'll need your help too, Ensign. I
think the only hope we have is to get back to the
smaller time shuttle we came in and catch a ride
back. If we make it that far, I assume
we've made it."
  "That makes sense," Kim said. "If they're
going to stop us, they'll do it before we get on the
shuttle."
  "And if we take the guard as a hostage,"
Neelix said, "then they'd have to stop us before we got
to him. Right?"
  "Right," Torres said and for the first time a faint ray
of hope cut through the gloom in her mind. If they
did manage to get to the guard, then a hostage
might do the trick. "Let's move. Neelix, do
your stuff. Get him close and I'll grab him."
Her blood was racing at the thought of battle. This
felt right. They were taking action.
  "With pleasure," he said. He headed
for the door, moving with a purposeful little march. When
he grabbed the handle, the door burst open.
Neelix had to stagger back and away as Rawlik and
two orange suits came in. "Damn,"
Torres whispered.
  "Nice timing," Neelix said under his breath, then
glanced at Torres. "That wasn't accidental?"
  Torres shook her head. All the adrenaline
pumping through her body suddenly had nowhere to go. She
started forward, but the orange suits trained weapons
on her.
  "Don't, B'Elanna," Rawlik said.
"Last time you got shot up pretty good." "Then
why didn't you back-time to get me?" she snapped.
"We did. You broke both the guards'jaws before
we could restrain you. We decided that maybe reason
would prevent bloodshed."
  "Funny," she said, "we were hoping that would work with
your people." 171
  "I've got to admit," Rawlik said, "we've
never had prisoners as determined and creative as you
three."
  "Thanks," Neelix said . 611 think."
  Kim clasped his hands behind his back .
61SO, was he said, "how far did we
get on our first attempt?"
  "Almost to the time shuttle with the guard as hostage."
Rawlik paused and looked directly at Tor-
  . 6'ally
  res out know this new violation won't help your
  chances much in the morning,"
  "Did we really have much chance anyway?"
Torres asked. "No tilde was Rawlik said.
"But all this effort is not inspiring to the council.
I'll still see what I can do."
  "Thank you," Torres said. She worked hard
to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. The energy was still
flowing through her. Another few hours of pacing might
get rid of it. 16 We'll wait here."
  She dropped down into a thick chair and put her
feet up, pretending to be unconcerned. She'd
made up her mind. When they came to take her to her
death tomorrow she'd die fighting. She would go out in such a
way as to make her Klingon mother proud.
  Neelix sat down in the chair beside her as
Rawlik motioned for the guards to take up positions
on both sides of the door. Then Rawlik nodded
to Torres and left without a word.
  "Well," Kim said. "I guess we gave it
a good try."
  "I must have been brilliant," Neelix said.
"I only wish I could remember it."
  When the transporter beam released him, Paris
let out a sigh. No wind, and relative warmth-at
least 172
  zero degrees Celsius, which was balmy compared
to the surface. What a relief He had arrived
before Tuvok, something Ensign Hoffman had warned
them about, considering the layers of rock and equipment the
signal would have to penetrate.
  Tavok materialized a half second behind him,
lantern already lit. Tiny dust motes floated in
the air around them, apparently disturbed by Paris's
first movement.
  "Wow," Paris said.
  This had obviously been a huge control center,
with workstations and paths through them. Hundreds of people must have
worked here at once. But now everything had a smooth,
gray look to it as if covered with dirty snow. The
air was bone dry, but at least the wind wasn't
cutting his skin down here. "Move slowly,"
Tuvok said, pointing downward.
  Paris glanced down. A thick layer of fine,
light dust flowed over the top of his shoes. The dust
was still settling from his first involuntary
movement.
  "We will have to be very careful in here," Tuvok said.
"Each movement could create a dust storm. Step
lightly and spread out so that we don't cover the other
person." Tuvok glanced at his tricorder and then
said, "This way." They headed off to the right. Paris
took slow, medium steps. After ten feet, he
wished for the wind.
  With each step, no matter how softly taken, the
dust would swirl into the air in billowing clouds. He
couldn't avoid breathing the stuff. He finally reached
into his kit, and removed a mask. Tuvok did the
same. 173
  Then'Paris got out his lantern. In this dust they
were going to need them both.
  Both men waited for the dust to settle, but most of
it just stayed in the air swirling with the faint currents
their movement had caused. "Stay ahead of it,"
Tuvok said, and they started walking again. Paris
didn't even want to breathe hard. The stuff coated
him and stuck to any moisture. He was glad that the
cavern wasn't hot. If he were sweating the stuff
would coat him like glue.
  "Wow, this is some dust, isn't it?" He tried
to sound casual, but he doubted Tuvok was
fooled.
  "The tricorder says so," Tuvok said.
"Nothing harmfid in the particles,. They are just
inconvenient."
  Which was, apparently, the Vulcan way of saying
damn annoying. They finally settled on a pace that
would allow them to stay just barely ahead of the clouds their
movements were making. "Don't stop fast," Paris
said.
  He found himself thinking of ways to avoid *the dust
instead of ways to help Kim and the others. That
annoyed him even more. Tljvok indicated ahead.
"Fresh prints leading away from the time machine and
toward that tunnel."
  Paris carefully slowed down as he neared the
prints. He didn't want to disturb them. "They
could be new or they could be twenty years old. It's
impossible to tell since the air doesn't move
down here."
  "Not impossible," Tuvok said. "Notice that the
comers of the prints are firm, not rounded and pulled down
by gravity. These prints are recent. They lead
to T74
  a tunnel which is located beneath the shuttle that
took the first away team. Our ghost's first
appearance on our equipment occurred when he
transported to the surface directly over that
tunnel."
  Paris nodded. "So, as we figured, our ghost
wears boots."
  The both turned and slowly made their way toward
the time shuttle. It was down a very dusty hall. They
had to cover the distance of the hall side by side,
shoulders almost touching to keep the dust from choking them.
They weren't so lucky with the doors and Paris ended
up following 1bvok through gray clouds that even his
lantern had trouble penetrating. By the time they reached
the small room, they were caked in gray dust.
Tuvok looked like a ghost himself. The gray leached the
color from his uniform, and lodged on his skin and
hair. His mask, initially white, was now gray and
probably as useless as Paris's had become.
Paris's nose Was totally blocked and he could
taste the grit against his teeth. God only knew
what it was doing to his eyes,
  "An individual time shuttle," Tuvok said as
he stood and stared at the small machine off one
side of the room. Prints in the dust led away from the
machine. "This area here-was He pointed the tricorder
at where a workstation once was. "comused
to control this machine and probably still does three
hundred thousand years in the past."
  Paris moved slowly closer to the shuttle. "So
this shuttle must be set for automatic return.
When our ghost finishes his mission, he gets in and
goes home."
  They both studied the machine. Paris could find no
obvious means of propulsion, although the thing was
emitting a thin, steady stream of chroniton
particles.
  Finally, Tuvok tapped his comm badge.
"Voyager?" "Go ahead, Mr. Tuvok,"
Captain Janeway'and voice answered. Even through
the comm badge it filled the small room with
authority. Paris looked up, half expecting a
cloud of dust to rise in reaction to the strength of the
captain's voice.
  "We have found the time shuttle. It appears to be
built for one or two people. It has obviously been
used by someone in the very near past." "Is there any
evidence of that person nearby?" Janeway asked.
"Footprints," Paris said. "But we didn't
expect to find our ghost here. It's still got to be on
the surface. Have the teams on the surface had any
spectral visitations?"
  "Not yet," Janeway said. "But they just got there
less than ten minutes ago."
  "Captain," Tuvok said. "After viewing this
area, I have an idea on how to capture our ghost.
Have the transporter room lock in the coordinates
of this room so we can beam directly back here when
we need to." "Thank you," Paris said under his
breath. He didn't much like the thought of another trek
through the dust of that huge cavern and those halls. "Then
beam us directly to the landing party," Tuvok said.
Paris moaned. A shower and a little more tomato soup
would have been nice first. Ali, well, better to get
filthy all in one trip. That way if they had
to use 176
  engine-room grade scrapers to get the dirt
off, they would only have to do it once.
  "Stand by," Janeway said.
  A moment later the transporter beam took them
from the murky room to the high wind and blowing sand of the
surface. The dirt from Paris's mask blew
into his eyes. With a quick, impatient gesture, he
ripped the mask off and let the wind take it. Then
he winced as the sand cut into the tiny unhealed cuts
on his cheeks.
  "I'm beginning to really hate this
place," Paris said.
  I
  CHAPTER

  DRICKEL FINISHED BINDING HIS ARM SO
THAT HE WOULDN'T jar his injured shoulder. He
made certain he had enough flexibility to allow the
use of his right hand. He had taken a special
powder for his headache and pain-one that allowed him to think
clearly, but that dulled the pain. He half hoped the
powder would dull the effects of the wind as well. The
voices outside were businesslike and insistent.
Drickel had monitored the new arrivals for a
few minutes before tending his arm. For once, the
PlanetHoppers weren't interested in this ship, but in
the ships beside it. At first he had thought that a good
coincidence. Then he realized they were taking the ships
apart, trying to see how they worked. Judging by the
sophistication of the transporter devices and the calm
with which old Pointed Ears had 178
  faced brickel earlier, these Planet-Hoppers
just might figure everything out. Which gave Drickel
only a short time to medicate himself, bind his arm, and
prepare for his next show.
  He decided against threatening the
Planet-Hoppers, at least for the moment. He would
put on a great floating display, and if that didn't
work he would pursue the weakest link with something sharp and
shiny. Watchman Regulation Code 3,765.41,
Section 0 1, stated that no interloper could be
hurt without just cause. The just-cause clause had
recently been superseded by Code 3,765.41,
Section OLIA, and its language was confusing.
He still didn't know if he could cause injury or,
if he did, whether he would be allowed to back-time
to prevent it.
  Sometimes a man had to operate on guesswork with
all these regulations. Considering what he was up against
here, he didn't want to mess with any changes at
all. Besides, to back-time he would have to get special
dispensation (watchman Regulation Code 0000
1. 18, Section 99.32But), and sometimes that
dispensation took a month of Real Time hearings. He
was having too much fun matching wits with these
Planet-Hoppers to interrupt it now with special
hearings.
  DT-ICKEL grabbed his bag with his good hand, made
certain he had all the equipment he needed, and
double-checked his invisibility cloak. Then he
moved down the hall and out of the shuttle.
  The wind seemed even colder than it had before, and the
sand was blowing so hard it actually made lines across his
vision. He had to squint to see clearly. 179
  He got to the bottom of the ramp and studied the
scene. A man in a dull yellow and black
uniform stood weapon at ready, his back to the wind.
He seemed to be guarding the north side of one of the
wrecks. Drickel assumed that was one of the wrecks
being worked on. Another guard stood in a sheltered
location to the west, another to the east, and Drickel
could make out a fourth to the south of the same wreck.
Four other guards stood in similar positions around
a second wreck. On that ship, Drickel could
see other Planet-Hoppers ripping the hull and
moving the plates aside. This was clearly not
scavenging work. This was serious investigation.
Drickel stood beside the ramp, as far out of the wind as
he could get. He used his sensors to determine what
he was up against.,
  There were five more Planet-Hoppers inside each
ship, but only one had a weapon.
  "An awful lot of firepower," he said to himself.
"I bet that's all for me." He laughed as the wind
carried his voice away. They'd never catch him.
He was the best from the Back Room. No
one had ever been able to keep pace with him.
  No one.
  Not in over two hundred and forty successfully
completed missions. These people wouldn't find him either.
They showed their nervousness through the level of firepower
they had brought with them. That many guards and weapons
meant the Planet-Hoppers were afraid ISO
  of him. Or at the very least, worried. And that was
exactly what he wanted them to be.
  Worried.
  He used his good arm to shift his bag to his
shoulder. Now they were in for a real show. He had
twenty antigravity pads and countless smaller
anti- gravity disks. He'd see how these
Planet-Hoppers would act with five old wrecks
in the air at once.
  Keeping his face as covered as he could from the wind,
he walked across the open area. He still favored his
bruised hip-the powder had dulled the pain but not
taken it away-and the wind was stronger, actually a force
he had to fight. He dug out some of the pads as he
walked. When he reached the wreck he had used in the
first show, he carefully placed the pads in the exact
same spots on the underside. This wreck was right beside
one of the ships the Planet-Hoppers were
working on. A guard was using it for a sort of shelter
from the wind as he stood duty.
  After placing the pads, Drickel walked up behind
the guard and tugged slightly on his right ear. The guy
spun, weapon at ready. Drickel held up his
hands, pretending he was captured, as the guy looked
around wildly, finally shaking his head, and scratching his
ear before returning his attention to his duty.
  Drickel yanked on the guard's ear again and then
moved on to the next ship laughing as the guard
frantically searched for something he couldn't see. As
Drickel placed four more pads on the underside of
another wreck, something caught his eye. Two men
shimmered in the last sparkles of a transporter
beam. lell
  They were beaming into an open area near the working time
shuttle. The men were covered with dirt-their uniforms were
gray-and they wore masks over their faces. The
wind instantly blew the dirt off them. The first man
ripped his mask off and let the wind take it. The
other man took off his mask and calmly folded it
into his pocket.
  Old Pointed Ears and his pale companion.
  Drickel's stomach twisted. They had
obviously been into the old Control
caverns. If they saw his footprints they would know
he wasn't a ghost. Then an even worse thought
struck him. What if they had found the shuttle?
For the second time on this mission he felt a sense
of urgency. If he didn't move fast he might
lose this one. And he didn't want to think about what
exactly that meant.
  He limped to the third wreck and hurriedly
placed the pads on the proper locations. For the moment
three floating wrecks would have to be enough. He just
didn't have the time to do all five.
  When he finished, he stood partially under the last.
shuttle. The sand stung like tiny chunks of ice as
he pulled the remote control out of his bag and keyed
in the first ship. It slowly floated three meters
off the ground.
  The guard under it yelled and ran out into the open, his
weapon at ready. His eyes were wide, and he
continued shouting until the others turned to watch.
  "So far so good," Drickel said to himself.
  Quickly Drickel switched on the control for the

  second ship and floated a full ten meters off
the pavement. The winds at that height were stronger, and the
ship bucked once. Drickel adjusted the
pads, then held the ship steady.
  Its broken ramp banged against the underside of the
shuttle, sending resounding booms floating off on the
wind. Two guards pointed to the new wreck and ran
into the open area.
  Pointed Ears took out his sensor and calmly
studied the wreck. His pale companion watched for a
moment, hands on his hips and a bemused expression on
his face, before pulling out his sensors and moving in the
opposite direct from Pointed Ears. Both men
aimed their sensors at the floating shuttles, then
swept the sensors around the area, obviously trying
to find him.
  "Go ahead," Drickel said aloud. "Try
to find me if you can." He keyed in the third set of
pads on the shuttle over his head and let it lift
two meters up. It too wavered slightly in the
wind but held steady, its ramp still touching the concrete
about two meters from Drickel. Now the guards
appeared really confused.
  They were surrounded by three wrecks floating without
reason. They seemed disoriented, but after a moment
Drickel became impressed by their control and
discipline. All had their weapons at ready, but not
a one of them fired at the floating ships.
Mostly they just watched and stayed ready. "Tough
audience," Drickel said.
  He turned to see what the two men with the sensors
were doing. Pointed Ears had moved closer
to Drickel 183
  and was examining the shuttle floating above him. After
a moment, he waved his'hand toward his pale
companion, indicating that the man should come closer. The
pale companion nodded.
  Without aiming his sensor device at anything,
Pointed Ears keyed something in and then looked up, as
if he expected a reaction. And he got one.
  At that very instant Pointed Ears looked up, the
control in Drickel's hand sent out a faint warning
light.
  He glanced down. The link to all the pads had
been severed, shutting them down.
  He cursed and ran, forgetting the pain in his hip.
A groan echoed above him as a gust of wind hit the
shuttle at the same time as the antigravity cut
off.
  By the time the landing gear hit the ground, Drickel
had taken one full running step. But those old
stubby lander legs had never been made to come down so
quickly from such a height. It wouldn't have been
able to take the weight of the shuttle dropped from two
meters in the air when it was brand new.
  His only hope was that he would get out from under it.
He did, but not the way he wanted.
  He had taken another step before the landing leg
farthest from him snapped like a thousand guns discharging at
once. Pieces of the landing gear bom- barded him like
shrapnel.
  He felt as if he were running underwater.
  Time felt as if it had slowed, even though he
knew it hadn't. ,184
  One more step.
  One more step and he'd be out from under the wreck. He
took half the step when the landing gear closest to him
shattered. He felt the concussion like a bomb going
off next to him. Then the impact hit him, knocking
the breath out. of his body and sending him into the air.
  Flying.
  Flying.
  Flying away from the crashing shuttle.
  Mercifully the blackness took him before he hit
the ground.
  is
  Cm-rMN JANEWAY STOOD amiDE
ENS-IGN HoTO -MAN iation THE
transporter room. Hoffman's able fingers were
bringing the last of the away team up: Carey,
Tavok, and Paris. The others had already been beamed
aboardone to sickbay. The holographic doctor
had complained about the lack of warning. As the last
three members materialized, Janeway understood
why Tuvok suggested that she meet them in the
transporter room instead of the bridge. Carey
looked fine, a little dirty from working on the old
shuttle and a bit windblown, but relatively
healthy.
  At least compared to Paris and Tuvok.
  They looked as if they'd just crawled out of a
cave-in. They were covered in dirt. It was so thick
on their uniforms the color was gone, and their faces were
smeared with it. Only their eyes were visible, and
Ilse
  Paris's whites were so red, they looked like they were
bleeding, while Tuvok's inner eyelid was more than
half closed. "I trust nothing happened in the
caverns," Janeway said. "No," Paris said,
"if you don't count being assaulted by millions of
years of accumulated dust."
  "I believe the accumulation appeared to be only
a hundred thousand years' worth," Tuvok
said. "I doubt we would have been able to walk in-was
"Anyway, Captain," Paris said, "we're
fine. Which is more than I can say for Ensign
Berggren."
  "Sickbay says he was cut by flying
shrapnel," Janeway says. "He'll be fine.
But I would like to know exactly what happened."
  t'Apparently," Tuvok said , was our ghost
decided that we needed to see more than one flying ship.
It was using antigravity pads run by a remote
control. I blocked the signal and the ships fell
back to the ground." "The crashes were spectacular,"
Paris said. "And so loud I swear you could have heard
them up here."
  Tuvok ignored him. Janeway suppressed a
smile. It appeared Paris was interrupting just
to annoy Tavok. It wouldn't work. Tuvok did not
annoy. "If we shift through the wreckage we shall be
able to recover the devices," Tuvok said. "I am
concerned that we will not be able to find our ghost.
Logically, it should have tried something else after the
crashes. But, although we remained on the surface a
good ten minutes longer, nothing happened."
  "Do you have a hypothesis, Mr. Tuvok?" 187
  "I believe it may be injured, even
dead."
  .ensign Hoffman made a small sound beside
Janeway. Janeway glanced at her. Hoffman
and Torres had been working on special projects
in Engineering. Apparently they had become friends.
Hoffman knew, as everyone else did, that the ghost
was their best chance of discovering how to bring the away team
back.
  "Go on," Janeway said.
  "I traced the signal emitting from the remote
control to a location under one of the crashed shuttles."
  "Any sign of a body?"
  "No," Tuvok said. "But it may be injured and
close and we would never see it."
  "If the ghost was under that ship as it fell," Paris
said, "it would have taken a very amazing person to get out.
It was only a few meters in the air."
  "So how do you propose finding this ghost?"
  "Heat, Captain," Tuvok said. "An injured
person would not move much. The body will build up a
heat signature, which I might be able to trace."
11 If the ghost is dead, that won't work." Carey
spoke for the first time. "I know," Tuvok said. "But
if it is dead, we do not need to find it." "Ut's
try," Janeway said. "Paris, are you
able to help him?" "I am," he said. Janeway
almost laughed at the look in his eyes. She could
tell that the last thing he wanted to do was return to that
planet's surface. But as long as Kim was
missing, he'd go back as often as it took. It was
one of the many traits about Paris she admired.
Ilse
  "Good," she said. She turned to Carey as
Tuvok stepped to one side and tapped his comm badge
to secure the right equipment. "How is the study of the
wrecks coming?"
  "It was going fine until the excitement. Nothing
definite yet on what makes the time travel work,
but we are stockpiling the metal plates from the
interior of the ship on Hangar Deck Two. Those
plates can be used very nicely as raw materials for
parts."
  "Good," she said. "Keep at it. Regroup your
teams and beam back down. I want you continuing on
that line. But help Tuvok and Paris anytime they
need it. Finding that ghost is a priority.
Understood?" "Understood, Captain."
  "We are ready," Tuvok said.
  The two men stepped back up on the
transporter platform. While Carey
moved off to quickly put his engineering teams back
together. Paris put his hands up to cover his eyes from the
blowing sand.
  Tuvok stood there stoically.
  "Good luck," she said as the beam took them. She
hoped they found that ghost. She didn't want to rely
on Kjanders for everything.
  They hadn't slept. Torres, Kim, and
Neelix had stayed awake ever since Rawlik
left the last time, eating pieces of the snack he
had brought them and discussing options. There had to be a
way to beat this time-travel system. Torres just
hadn't found it yet.
  She had once told a friend that she could find the
loopholes in any bureaucracy. Only two had
thwarted her: Starfleet and now Alcawell.
Starfleet had allowed 189
  her to leave-not peaceably, since that was not her
way-but she was still able to continue her life.
  Alcawell was determined to take even that.
  Rawlik had become their only hope.
  Things had become pretty hopeless if their only
hopeeawas the chief bureaucrat in a bureaucracy
that prided itself on its adherence to rules. "I wish
we had windows," Kim said. "Rawlik
said he would be talking to the council in the morning, but
how are we to know when morning is? We don't even
know if this planet has a twenty-four-hour day."
  "Or if they continually add hours at the end of
each day to write more rules," Neelix said. He
leaned back on the couch. "I didn't even say a
proper good-bye to Kes. I thought I would be back
soon enough. It shows that one should always expect the
unexpected."
  "That's a clichd where I come from," Kim said.
"Clichds are clichds because they have a level of
wisdom," Neelix said. "Clichds are
clich6's," Torres said, "because people use them in the
wrong circumstances."
  "I would wager that particular clichd is not a
clichd on Alcawell," Neelix said.
  "No," Kim said. "Here they anticipate the
unexpected and thwart it." Torres glanced at
Kim. The fear seemed to have left hm."...Long
hours with nothing to do often did that for folks. And she
had to remember how strong he was. She had faced
death with him before. Then the odds had seemed long too.
  Still, they had found a solution.
  Here, the solutions always created more problems. The
door opened and Rawlik entered carrying their
breakfast tray. Torres wrinkled her nose at
it as he set it on a footstool. Several
pastries that looked like mashed beets mixed with bright
red food dye and three glasses of a purple
beverage the color of Rawlik's assistant's
hair. Torres ignored the food for a moment, even
though her stomach was growling. "Are the appeals fin,
ished?"
  Rawlik picked up one of the pastries and took
a bite. He chewed and swallowed before answering her.
"The council is still in session. I went in front
of them a hour ago Real Time and pleaded your case.
Breakfastr" He offered the tray to Neelix.
  "Well," Neelix said, taking a pastry and a
glass. "This won't be our last meal if the
council remains in session all day."
  Kim took his glass as well. "You know," he
said to Rawlik, "it would be better if you stocked the
kitchen like Neelix said. Then you wouldn't have to break
from your arguments and serve us."
  "I'm done arguing," Rawlik said.
  Neelix took a tentafive sip of the liquid.
"It's sweet," he said with surprise.
  Torres took a glass as Kim sipped his.
  "It doesn't really taste familiar,"
Kim said.
  Torres drank. On the contrary, the drink
tasted very familiar. "My mother used to make something
similar," she said. "A Klingon specialty
called Vleq. I always called it Yuk. She
served it hot, though."
  "We can warm it for you," Rawlik said.
  Torres shook her head. "No need. I would rather
hear about the proceedings. How soon will we know?"
  "Soon," Rawlik said. He paced around the
room, following the same path Torres had.
  Neelix and Kim hadn't touched their pastries,
but they had both finished the drink. Torres finished
hers as well. It was just like Vleq. Even though it was
sweet, it didn't completely quench a thirst. It
only promised to do so. The idea of pastries after
a drink that sweet made her vaguely nauseated.
  "If the council decides against us," she said,
"where do we appeal?" "There is no appeal,"
Rawlik said quietly. "The council is the
highest authority, I am afraid that now we can
only wait."
  "Well," Neelix said, stretching out on the
sofa, "I have learned that the best way to wait is
to nap. I've always been fond of naps.
Sometimes Kes says I nap too much. . . . his
  His voice trailed away.
  Kim was nodding. "Yeah," he said. "A nap
sounds good. 91 "Don't nap," Torres said
to Neelix. "When you nap, we always get in
trouble."
  Then the exhaustion hit her. Only it didn't
feel like real exhaustion. It felt-more welcoming.
  Don't nap. When you nap-
  Then somewhere in the back of her mind she realized
what was going on. She launched herself at Rawlik,
but the two guards had already moved into position. "You
poisoned us!" 192
  Rawlik nodded. "There was no other way."
  "The council?"
  He actually looked sad. "I'm sorry.vv
  She yanked herself out of the guardsv grasp. The
movement made her dizzy. "I was going to go out
fighting," she said. Her words were slurred. "Take
a few of you scummy time freaks with me."
  Rawlik nodded, and she could barely see his face
at this point. "You did," he said. "You were the only
people in the history of this culture to cause four Time
Alarms."
  She didn't care about that. She fell
to her knees beside the sofa and grabbed Neelix's
shoulders. "Wake up!" she said. She had heard
somewhere that drugs didn't always work if people stayed
awake. But his body was heavy. He wasn't
moving. "Wake up!"
  She turned to Kim. "Wake up!"
  His eyes were partially open. She couldn't tell if
he was breathing. She pushed herself to her feet. "I'm
still going to go out fighting," she said. She flailed at
Rawlik. He caught her VM-ISTS. He
wouldn't have been able to do that if she had been up
to full strength. "You already fought. You and your friends
killed five of my men and wounded five others,
including a council member, before we back-timed for
this solution."
  She jerked in his grasp. The dizziness was growing.
"That's supposed to make me happy?"
  "I'm very sorry," Rawlik said.
  "You know," she said, her voice seeming far, far
away, "we only wanted to go home."
  He eased her back to the sofa. She tried
to move, but she couldn't. She wanted to tell him that
he would regret this for the rest of his life.
  She wanted to leap off the sofa and break out of this
hell. Her eyes closed against her will, and
she fought, moving the fight inward, where it had always
been.
  She had fought her dual nature and survived.
She would fight this. She did fight this-
  Until she couldn't anymore.


  PARIS WOULD NEVER THINK OF SAND AS
BENIGN AGAIN. THE wind was even harsher than before,
the chill so deep that his thermal gloves couldn't
keep it out. The sand lacerated his jacket and would
bite into his uniform soon. Someone once told
him that they made glass out of sand. Now he believed
it. . He and Tuvok were moving equipment. Carey
had joined them and then gone to check on the crews that
followed them back down to the surface. Tuvok was
convinced that the ghost was sophisticated enough that a
tricorder alone wouldn't pick up the ghost's body
heat. Tuvok's argument was that if the ghost had
initially given off body heat, it would have registered
right away. So he brought an elaborate sensor
designed, Tuvok said, for special space work.
  It would do here, or so Tuvok claimed. 195
  Paris was tired of claims. He just wanted
action. He wanted to find that ghost before it
died, before he lost his opportunity ever to see Kim
again. Tuvok motioned to Paris and together they moved the
dishlike sensor. It wasn't actually a sensor
in and of itself. The job of sensor would be filled
by Tuvok's tricorder. The dish gathered the heat
signals and amplified them to the tricorder. The
problem was that the dish, which was a meter and a half across,
needed a certain amount of steadiness to get any
readings at all. Paris wondered how anything was
going to stay steady in this wind, especially a dish..
  Tuvok finished linking his tricorder and the dish.
Paris did not like the look in Tuvok's eye.
  "Hold it as steady as you can," Tuvok said. He
was actually using their comm link so that they wouldn't have
to shout over the howling wind. "We will try the area
around where we found the control first."
  Paris sat down on the ground and half wrapped
his body around the round metal dish. He stretched out
his legs to serve as an anchor and let his back work
as a wind foil. Then he nodded to indicate his
readiness. "You know," he said, "I'm sure if you
had asked, Engineering would have given you a sturdy
tripod. It wouldn't complain about the wind or the sand
or even the wretched cold."
  "This will only take a moment,
Lieutenant."
  "A tripod wouldn't care how long it took. A
tripod-was "Would sheer in this kind of gale force."
Tuvok studied the readout for a moment. "Move it
slightly to the left."
  Paris scooted his butt and legs slightly and
again braced himself The pavement was made of ice, and the
sand had gone down the waistband of his pants. The
feeling the little rock crystals left was not
pleasant. "A tripod," he said, "would-was
  "A tripod would have the sense to remain quiet,"
Tuvok said. His words were flat and unemotional, but
Paris sensed a well of emotion behind them. Perhaps he
was just imagining that emotion. Perhaps Tuvok's statement
was entirely logical given the circumstances.
  Perhaps not.
  Perhaps Paris had finally gotten through those thick
Vulcan defenses. Paris took a deep breath
and fought to make himself relax a little against the wind, not
fight it so much. This was going to be a very long job if
they had to scan the entire area like this. Paris
stretched out his aching back for a moment, then adjusted the
dish scanner another degree and braced it again.
  Tuvok studied the readings for a moment, then looked
up at where the dish was pointed, then studied
the readings again. "I did not ask you to move the
dish," Tuvok said. "But I am glad you did.
Our ghost exists." He continued to stare at the
tricorder as he ran toward the edge of the crashed
ship. It took a moment for Paris to put the dish
facedown so the wind wouldn't kick it around beffire
he could climb to his feet and follow. Thirty
meters away Tbvok slowed and then started '197
  easing forward. At about the same moment that Paris
caught him, Tuvok's foot obviously struck
something and Tuvok leaned down, his hands moving over
an invisible object.
  Paris moved in closer and knelt down on the
hard pavement across from Tuvok. Now that he was
looking, he could see the sand building up small
drifts around something on the ground. There was no
distortion at all. Their ghost had one of the best
cloaking devices he had ever seen. He extended
his hand and found cloth. His hand hovered over what
appeared to be emptiness, but on close examination,
he realized that the blowing sand avoided a space about
the size of a human body. He moved his hand
until he found what felt like a hu
  arm.
  "He is still alive," Tuvok shouted
against the wind. Relief flooded him, but he
blocked it as best he could. Just because the ghost lived
didn't mean that they could find Kim and the others. He
tapped his comm badge. "Voyager. Three to beam
up directly to sickbay." "Sir, my instruments
only show two," Hoffman's voice said barely
loud enough to be heard over the wind.
  Paris pulled off his badge and stuck it on the
ghost. The badge floated in midair. "My comm
badge is now on the other body. Now engage."
The transporter cut off the wind as if it had shut
off bad music that someone had been playing far too
loud. As they materialized on the floor of
sickbay, ISO
  Paris suddenly discovered parts of his body the wind
had numbed and the sand had abused.
  The sickbay was empty except for Ensign
Berggren asleep on one of the bunks. His hands were
bandaged, his mouth was open, and he was snoring
slightly. Apparently their arrival hadn't
disturbed him. "Initiate emergency medical
program," Tuvok saiand Doc Zimmerman
appeared instantly. "What seems to be the
problem?" His voice was flat and almost annoyed.
  "We have a seriously injured person
here," Paris said. "Really?" Doc Zimmerman
said, looking around.
  Tuvok ignored Doc Zimmerman and tapped his
comm badge. "Captain, we have our ghost on board
in sickbay."
  "On my way." Janeway's curt response
filled the room. "Ghost?" Doc Zimmerman said.
"I am only programmed to work on corporeal
beings."
  "Can we lift him up on a table?" Paris said.
  Tuvok nodded.
  Paris slid his hands underneath the ghost and got a
hold as Tuvok did the same on the other.side.
  "There is no one between you," Doc Zimmerman
said. 1bvok glanced at Paris. "Ready?"
  Paris was as ready as he was ever going to get,
lifting a ghost. "Ready." "Now," Tuvok said.
Together they both lifted the solid weight of the body
and moved over until they could place it on a table.
  "I will review the treatments for mass
hallucination," Doc Zimmerman said. Paris
grunted as he lifted. This ghost was heavy. He and
Tuvok staggered under the weight.
  "My psychological programming is limited.
However, if you don't mind stepping over
to one of the tables, I will see if your delusion has a
physical basis."
  As Paris eased his hands out from under the invisible
body, he could feel a wide and very solid belt
around the waist. "The controls might be in this belt."
  7hvok felt the air over the ghost's middle
carefully, then pulled his hands back as Janeway
came through the door.
  She moved directly up to the table between Tuvok
and Paris and looked at its empty surface.
"Amazing," she said.
  "Not another one," Doc Zimmerman said. He
rolled his eyes. "That it is, Captain," Tuvok
said. "The shield even blocked most of the heat from the
body. A very sophisticated cloaking."
  "Or phasing," Janeway said.
  Doc Zimmerman suddenly came forward.
Apparently the talk of cloaking and phasing made
him revise his assessment. "Are you telling me,"
he said, "that my patient is actually invisible?"
  "Yes," Paris snapped. "Get to it, will you?
We have no idea what condition this person is in."
  "Move aside," Doc Zimmerman said.
"Allow me. I'm the doctor here." Tuvok
didn't move. "The lieutenant
believes that the controls might be, on the ghost's
belt. I agree. 200
  However, it may be dangerous to tamper with it. We
do not know what we are doing."
  "Clearly," Doc Zimmerman snapped. "You
are absolutely filthy. You drag an invisible
patient in here and then shed dirt on it. For all I
know, you could be compounding this patient's problems. Now
move out of my way." "Give them a moment,
Doctor," Janeway said.
  "If this patient is seriously injured," Doc
Zimmerman said, "we may not have a moment."
  "Why don't we just take the belt oVery" Paris
said. Janeway thought for a moment. "That seems to be
an acceptable risk at this time."
  Paris started feeling along the lumpy, solid
belt from his side until he reached what felt like a
buckle. He ran his hands over it for a moment,
realizing as he did that it was just a simple
utility-belt-type latch. Nothing special. It
was made to be released quickly, obviously in case
of emergency.
  "I hope you are not touching any open wounds,"
Doc Zimmerman said. "The risk of infection is
always greater in an uncontrolled
environment." "Ready?" Paris asked, looking up
at Janeway.
  "Go ahead, Mr. Paris."
  He pulled up on the hard plastic clasp and a
snap echoed faintly through the sickbay. Ensign
Berggren snorted in his sleep, coughed, and rolled
over. Instantaneously a body appeared on the
table and Paris could see the end of the belt he'd been
holding.
  The body belonged to a man as large as a Klingon
warrior. He had orange hair and well-defined
muscles. His chin was large, as Kjanders's was, and
his fore201
  head small. His face was cut with the same sand and
wind bums as Paris's. The man had a
jury-rigged sling on one shoulder and he wore a
black body suit. His eyes were set wide on his
face and his nose was pointed. He wore
eight-fingered black gloves. The wide black
plastic belt looked more like a control panel with
pockets than it did anything else. Faint
orange lights blinked on the belt, and at first
glance Paris could tell it did far more than just
shield the guy.
  "He is a professional at the task
he was doing," Tuvok said after a moment of studying the
ghost.
  "It seems that way," Janeway said. She
stood back and indicated that Doc Zimmerman should
come forward. "What's wrong with him?" "Besides his
intense desire to not be seen," Doc Zimmerman
said, "I don't have a clue, But give me a little
room and I might be able to tell you." I Both
Paris and Tuvok stepped back and Doc
Zimmerman scanned the alien. "He has a
badly sprained shoulder, a concussion, three broken
ribs, and a crushed shoulder blade. The suit that
he's wearing apparently stopped him from bleeding
to death. He will live."
  "How long until we can talk to him?"
Janeway asked. "One hour." Doc Zimmerman
pointed to that belt. "And please take that off of him.
It seems far too dangerous to be in this room."
  Paris lifted the man's midsection while
Tuvok slid the belt out and draped it over his arm.
  "Now go away," Doc Zimmerman said. "I will
call 202
  you as soon as he wakes up." Then he looked
at Tuvok and Paris. "And you two will not be allowed
back in here in that condition."
  "Are you ordering me to take a shower?" Paris
asked. He had never been so thrilled to hear an
order in his life.
  "I have never in my career or in the careers of all
the other doctors whose lives I have incorporated
seen anyone coms very filthy," Doc Zimmerman
said. "He's ordering us to take a shower," Paris
said to Tuvok. "Can you believe it?"
  "Make that captain's orders, also," Janeway
said, and smiled. "Thank you, Captain," Tuvok
said.
  Paris glanced at him, then did a double take.
The Vulcan actually looked relieved.


  I
  I I


  ('III

  DRICKEL SLOWLY OPENED HIS EYES,
TRYING TO FOCUS ON the light overhead.
His, head throbbed and the light in his eyes added little
needles into that pain, "Awake? Good." The
voice was male and crisp. The word "good" almost
sounded like a command.
  A blurry face appeared over Drickel and
he fought to focus on it without success. The face
moved away and Drickel tried to follow it, but the
pain made him moan and close his eyes.
  "Captain," the voice said. "Your formerly
invisibler man is now awake. His pain should be
clearing enough in the next few minutes for you to talk
to him."
  "Thank you, Doctor. I'm on my way."
  Drickel noticed that the man Captain had
called Doctor was right about the pain. It was fading.
He moved his head back and forth. The throbbing was
  subsiding into a dull ache, a little less pain
than just a few moments before.
  "If you remain still for two more minutes, I think
you'll find life much more pleasant."
  "All right." Drickel croaked the words. His
mouth was dry and full of grit. He closed his
eyes and lay still as the voice had commanded him. He
seemed to be on the Planet-Hoppers' ship. That
idea somewhat frightened him. He couldn't imagine being
that far above the planet's surface, let alone being
out in space. From everything he'd heard about
space it was a very dangerous place. The
PlanetHoppers were insane beings even to travel
there.
  At least they had a medical facility. The
failure of the antigravity devices and the injury from
the old wreck almost failing on him must have jarred
loose his belt, or broken his invisibility
shield so that they found him. It was obviously lucky
for him that they had. Even if his injuries hadn't
been serious, he wouldn't have been able to survive in
that cold and wind. Severe-weather gear only
protected for so long. Something hissed-and the hiss
sounded manufactured. It was followed by three sets
of footsteps. He opened his eyes. The light still
shone in them, but it didn't hurt this time. The pain
had receded. He could even focus on the ceiling.
  "How is he?" the woman's voice asked.
  "He will live," the doctor said.
  Drickel pushed himself up on one elbow. He was
still wearing his body suit but his belt was gone. His
suit was also cleaner than it had been since he
reached this time.
  The medical facility had an antiseptic
look. It was done in dull blues and grays,
apparently for PlanetHopper comfort.
Displays and monitors on the walls flashed at
him. A man slept in another bunk, his snores
a faint but present sound.
  Drickel looked up at the four
Planet-Hoppers. Pointed Ears and his pale
companion were staring down at him. Up close their
features looked delicate. Pointed Ears had
an intent look and his pale companion a slight
grin. They had not a speck of dirt on them and
gave off the faint scent of soap.
  A man with no hair stood beside them. He held
a small scanner and was monitoring Drickel.
For. a moment Drickel's gaze remained on the
man-no hair! Amazing. Such a thing never happened
on Alcawell. Not in all the Periods put
together-then Drickel realized he was staring. Finally
he turned his attention to the fourth person.
  She was apparently the captain he had heard a
few moments before. She was slender and shorter than the
men who surrounded her, but her clear blue eyes had
intelligence and her expression wore its authority
well. Her hair was a very tame brown, but the
color suited her. Even the red on her uniform
seemed more vibrant than the other colors he had
seen in this place.
  "How are you feeling?" she asked.
  "I'm alive. I assume that's thanks to your
people."
  The captain nodded toward Pointed Ears and his
pale companion. "Lieutenants Tuvok and
Paris found you." She pointed to the other man. "This
is our doctor, and I'm Captain Janeway.
You are on the, Federation Starship Voyager."
  Starship? They called these things starships. The word
evoked night skies filled with stars, warm jungle
air around him, and birds chirping in nearby trees.
Some poetry, then, to these people.
  "Nice to meet you, Captain," Drickel said.
Then he looked directly at the two men.
"Thank you for saving my life."
  Paris said, "You're welcome."
  Tuvok bowed slightly.
  "We have questions we need to ask," the captain said,
moving closer to him. Her voice was sharp, firm, and
commanding. She stood with her hands clasped behind her
back, her posture erect but not rigid. Her
movements also implied a great physical strength.
  "Ask away," Drickel said. If this was
anything like Control, the more he said the better off he
would be. He didn't know if
Planet-Hoppers had rules the way Alcawell
did, but he suspected they might. "Mind if I
sit up first?"
  Janeway glanced at the doctor.
  "Why are my patients always eager to damage
themselves?" he muttered. "Doctor?" Janeway
said.
  "I'm sure it will be fine. I'm sure you should
all diagnose yourselves." He glared at Paris and
Tuvok. "At least you two are finally clean."
Drickel suppressed a smile and swung his
feet off the table so he could face the
Planet-Hoppers more directly. He patted the
waist of his jumpsuit. It felt odd without the
weight of the belt. "Does anyone know where my
belt ended up?"
  Tuvok nodded. "We had to remove it so that you
  would become visible. Since the belt obviously
had other components, some of which might be dangerous,
we placed it in a containment field in Cargo Bay
One."
  I "It was still working when you found me?" Drickel
was actually shocked. If the invisibility device
was still working, then there was no way they could have seen through the
shield. These people were even more amazing than he
had imagined. "How did you-That'
  "There will be time enough for that later," the captain said.
"But first I'd like some information about my away team.
I need to know where they are being held and how we get
them back to Voyager. was Drickel heard her
words, but didn't understand them. ""Away team"?"
"Three of my crew were accidentally taken by that
shuttle down there just after we first arrived here," she
said. "It returned seconds later with a Mr.
Kjanders on board. He said that my crew was being
held by Control in the past and may be executed. I
assume you are working for that Control since you were trying
to scare us off."
  Drickel tilted his head back. So that was the
Time Alarm that Red had mentioned. He hadn't put
those two elements together. All that work Drickel had
done to protect the live shuttle had been wasted.
He had arrived too late. The
Planet-Hoppers had already triggered the shuttle.
This entire mission from start to end had been a disaster.
The captain was watching him closely. Behind her
scrutiny he could see concern for her crew. It was that
concern that convinced him he'd better lay this all

  out. "I know nothing about your away team,"
he said. "And that's the truth." "Then why were you trying
to scare us away?" Paris asked. . "Because that is
my job as defined by the Watchman Regulation
Acts numbers 00000 to 49,000, all sections
and subsections. We make certain that no Period
is violated by a Planet-Hopper, or anyone
else for that matter." "I hate that term," Paris
muttered.
  "I do work for Control," Drickel continued,
ignoring him, "but in a very special force we call
the Back Room. Our job, simply, is to guard
these old abandotied time-shuttle stations from intruders.
I do this in fifty Periods."
  "So your race did not just abandon this Period,"
Tuvok said. "Your people died out at some point?"
  Drickel laughed. "Oh, no. Actually, we
moved-was "Gentlemen," the captain said. "This is
all well and good, but it can wait until we've
recovered the away team."
  "Your away team as you call them is in serious
trouble," Drickel said. "If you will allow me
to explain a few things."
  He rubbed a hand over his face.
  "It appears that my patient is growing tired,"
the doctor said. "If you would all leave
him-was
  "No," Drickel said. "I'm fine. I'm just
trying to figure out how to compress thousands of years and
even more regulations into a few sentences." He
frowned at Tuvok. "You people are quite sophisticated.
I assume you have time travel?"
  "Our people have done it, but it is very rudimentary. We
prefer travel in space. No one in our
culture regularly travels through time," he said.
"I think what Tuvok is saying," Paris said,
"is that the more you explain the better off we'll be."
  "As long as it goes to helping my away team,"
the captain said. "And doesn't exhaust you too
much," the doctor said. "No matter how strong your
body is, it came close to failing you today. You must
remember that." Drickel wouldn't forget that. It was
probably time to approach Control about Watchmen
teams. He sighed, That meant even more regulation.
"Let me explain why you found an empty
planet," Drickel said. "You already understand
paradoxes, but there is a level beyond paradoxes in
time travel. A level that we didn't discover for
many years."
  He scooted back on the table and crossed his
legs. His hip seemed to be better too.
The doctor frowned at him. The took was almost
menacing. That bare scalp made him appear sinister.
.
  "About one hundred and fifty thousand years ago
Real Time from here," Drickel said, "we discovered
that, for each decision point in Real Time, two or
more alternate universes branch off depending on the
number of solutions. Most of the time these branches
simply blend back together like water running around a
rock. But other times the branches form two or more
distinct time lines. We discovered how to easily
cross the boundaries between those time lines and in so doing
discovered millions and millions of uninhab210
  ited time lines where our race never developed on
this planet." "So your race moved." Tuvok said.
"Fascinating. Drickel smiled at Tuvok.
He liked old Pointed Ears. The man was quick.
"At this very point in Real Time there are estimated
to be over two hundred billion members of my
race occupying over eight million alternate time
lines."
  "I fail to understand how this affects my away
team," the captain said. "It affects them in this
way," Drickel said. "When Control discovered the
dimensional shifts, the need to regulate
our society became fierce. We already had strict
regulations about time travel, but those regulations now
had to protect the dimensions as well. Travel
into the future became even more dangerous, and Control
became even more rigid."
  "Shifted to another dimension, are you?" the captain
said. . "No," Drickel said. "Those shuttles
below were design ed before we knew about parallel
universes. The ships return to the corresponding
Real Time in the past. It was a logical
protection once. But the regulations have changed.
Your away team got on one of our shuttles, went
to the past, and broke the law through no fault of their
own."
  "It is logical that a society like yours would
establish unbreakable time guidelines," Tuvok
said.
  "But we are not part of that society," Janeway
said. "True," Drickel said. "But your crew could
have dispussed the future Alcawell with people in the past.
  Each slip in the stream is extremely
dangerous. That is why I work so hard at keeping
Planet-Hoppers away from the ships."
  "Good for you," Janeway said, "but I need to know
if you can free them." These people were quite
intelligent. The rumors he had heard about
Planet-Hoppers were clearly skewed. He felt
a bit embarrassed by his explanation, as if he
had been insulting their intelligence without meaning to.
  "We might be able to free them," he said. "I'd
need to get back to my time shuttle and report
in."
  "The one in the underground cavern?" Tuvok asked.
"You found that, also?" He glanced around. "You are the
only Planet-Hoppers who ever beat me. And then
you saved my life." He shook his head. "I am
not only impressed, but I am also grateful. It
seems only logical that I try to save your
crew members."
  Drickel moved his shoulders and arms a little,
amazed that even his shoulder felt almost as good as new.
"Doctor, when can I leave?" "You need at least
two more days of rest before you will be in good shape. Your
body needs time to recover from the shock. Your
physique is different enough from the others in my files
that if you did have an infection, I might not be able
to find it. To be safe, I would order bed rest for a
week." The doctor sighed and'glanced at
Janeway. "But I understand that you-and all of my
patients except the hapless Ensign
Berggren, who seems content to snore his life away
in sickbay-have busy lives to lead, and can't afford

  take care of yourselves. That being the case-was The
doctor wiped his hands together as if shaking Drickel
off them.?-the sooner you leave, the better." "Will do,
Doc," Paris said.
  "We can beam you directly to your shuttle,"
Janeway said. She faced Drickel. "If you
don't mind, we'll accompany you."
  Drickel laughed and stepped down off the medical
table. "I would expect nothing else." He
hesitated. "Oh, and Captain? You mentioned a
person named Kjanders?"
  The captain nodded. "He showed up on the
shuttle that took our crew and seemed genuinely
shocked at what he found."
  Drickel laughed. "I suppose he was.
If it's the same Kjanders I've heard of, he
is a known criminal sought by Control. I would be
careful." The- captain smiled, the first real smile
from her Drickel had seen. It softened her face.
"We guessed as much. At the moment, he is
imbibing too much coffee in our officers' mess.
We've kept him under constant
surveillance."
  Drickel shook his head in amazement again. It
would be good to have these Planet-Hoppers as friends. He
sure wouldn't want to be against them again. "Would someone
please turn off my program?" the doctor said.
"Emergency medical program off," Tuvok said.
  The doctor faded away.
  Drickel pointed at where the doctor had been.
He was shocked. Totally shocked. "I was cured
by a-was 913
  "Hologram," the captain said.
  "An invisible man healed by a holographic
doctor," Paris said. "That seems logical
to me. How about you, Tuvok?"
  "I see nothing strange about it," Tuvok said.
"We have a holographic doctor and Mr.
Drickel was invisible. These things happen."
  Paris laughed, followed by the captain.
Drickel wasn't sure what the two of them found
so funny. Apparently Thvok didn't know either.
These Planei Hoppers were very talented but very
strange p.

  JANEWAY DID NOT MOVE AS THE
TRANSPORTER BEAMS Rand leased her.
Paris and Tuvok had warned her about the dust in the
caverns. They had arrived before her and Drickel, and
were already holding up lanterns to illuminate the
underground room.
  The dust was thick and the air was very dry. It sucked
the moisture from her mouth and nose immediately. Paris
had said that the caverns were warmer than the surface, but
they still weren't warm. They, were at freezing, if she
had to lay a wager on it.
  Everything in the room was covered with dust. The beams
of lights cut circles through the darkness, but the
blackness still lurked at the edges. What looked
to be the remains of a workstation was buried under dust. The
only thing that looked new was a device near one
side of the room.
  Tuvok and Paris had trained their lights in that
direction. The device was human-sized. It had a
bench seat and a control panel and was the only thing not
deep in dust.
  "Do not move very fast." Tuvok reminded them.
"This dust is very light and can be stirred up
easily."
  "I'll just stand here and be a lamppost," Paris
said, holding the lamp up high.
  Drickel and Janeway glanced at
each other, then walked side by side to the time
shuttle. The dust floated like tiny moths around them.
Paris coughed. "Dammit, Tuvok," he said.
"The doctor is going to order us to take showers
again."
  Janeway smiled.
  Drickel moved over to the time shuttle. Without
sitting down, he touched a few buttons. The dust
caught up to him and Janeway, swirling around them like
a friendly whirlwind. Some of it caught in her mouth.
The dust had an alkaline taste. She was glad that
Tlivok had already tested it. Drickel hunched so
that the swirling dust stayed away from his mouth.
"Emergency override. Intraperiod Communication.
Drickel to Noughi, citing Watchman Regulations
500 through 537, all Sections. Noughi, are you
there?" "Watchman Back Room Response via
Emergency Override rules at Control,
Items 999 through 1500. Noughi here.
Thisbetter be good, Drickel. You just caused me
a month of regulation citing." A woman's voice
came through after only a moment's pause.
  The hair rose on the back of Janeway's
neck. That 216
  woman was speaking from the past as easily
as Janeway spoke to Voyager. She was hearing a
voice three hundred thousand years old.
"Probably more than a month," Drickel said.
His voice actually some lightness to it. Was he
flirting? "Whoever popped my alarm sent me here
late. The Planet-Hoppers I was supposed
to chase away had already lost three of their crew to your
section several Real Time hours before I appeared."
  "Sounds like you're the one who gets to file the,
complaint, Drickel." The woman chuckled.
"We'll have forms 7564.555 through 32,889.321
sent to your home system so that you can work on this problem
when you return." Then she paused. "If this is
what you caused an Emergency Override for, I will
make sure you get extra forms to process."
  "No," Drickel said. "There's some problems
here. What happened to those three crew members?"
  "They came through here. They were Rawlik's first.
He spent too much Real Time on this case. He
got a slap from Control. Overriders Regulations
S-Series, Numbers 2A through 37But,
Personal Involvement Sections I and 2, you
know."
  "I know," Drickel said. "I've been
slapped with that before." Janeway had lost the
thread of the numbers long ago. All she knew was that
Drickel sounded a bit disappointed.
  "You should've been here, though, Drickel. I can
understand why he lost track of the regulations, you know.
Those Planet-Hoppers caused more Time Alarms
than any prisoners previously."
  "Did they cause one when I went through
Eighteighty-nine?" "Yes, and three more after that."
  Drickel turned his head a little and grinned at
Janeway. "With that much activity, then, they're still
alive, right?"
  Silence greeted him. Janeway held her
breath.
  "Sorry, Drickel. You missed the execution
by three Real Time hours. Red tells me they're
still not back to work out there in the main room."
Janeway felt as if someone had punched her
solidly in the stomach. Beside her Paris sucked in
a sharp breath.
  Torres. Kim. Neelix. She couldn't
believe they were dead. She just couldn't.
  Paris groaned behind her, and his light wavered.
lUvok remained steady. Drickel held up one
finger as if indicating that they should all wait. "Are
you certain, Noughi? Sometimes the orders
get made, but the executions take a few Real
Time days. 99
  "Days?" She said. "Try weeks. It took a
dozen different tries and an entire committee
to outwit those people. Finally Rawlik had to back-time
to poison them."
  "Oh, man," Drickel said. "And they're still
thinking of slapping him with a Personal Involvement?"
  "I'm afraid so," the woman said. "Look,
if we stay on this any longer we will have thirty more
forms to complete."
  "All right," Drickel said. "Keep those forms
ready. I might have to get back to you."
  "Wonderful," the woman said. With a flick of a
light, her voice disappeared from the chamber.
  Drickel braced one hand against the device and
rested his forehead against his arm. Then he stood.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I really am."
Janeway let out the breath she had been holding.
She was hoping he would have more for her than that. She
turned away from him and walked slowly over near the
door. The light from the lanterns cast shadows down
the dust-filled hallway. Three sets of
footprints led off into the dark. She thought that somehow
fitting for the moment.
  She just couldn't accept that her crew members were
dead. Not this way. Not now. This was all so stupid.
  If she had pulled them off the shuttle sooner
or sent a team into the past sooner, they might still be
here. There were so many ifs she wanted to go back and
change. So many things she wanted to do differently,
if she only had the chance.
  Time Alarm. Back-timing, as Kjanders called
it. She was standing three hundred thousand years after her
crew was killed. What difference was a short three
hours?
  She whirled so quickly the dust stormed and swirled
up around her. She brushed it away from her face and
moved into the open. "Explain to me what she meant
by Time Alarm."
  Drickel's expression became guarded for a
moment. "Ah, hell," Paris said. "We just lost
three of our best people. You can answer the woman's
questions."
  Drickel shrugged. "A Time Alarm," he said,
"is 219
  H
  when Control mus, t send a force or a person
back a very short distance in time to stop something from
happening. It is rarely done, and causing
a Time Alarm is a death-penalty offense. Your
comcrew caused four of them besides the original
eight-hundred violation. That's something amazing. You
have very talented people working with you, Captain."
  "Had," Paris said. His light was quivering.
  "Tom," Janeway said softly. She made
sure there was an element of command in that tone as well
as compassion. "Mr. Drickel, tell me why Time
Alarms are so rare."
  "Beside the obvious dangers of creating a time
paradox," Drickel said, glancing at Tuvok,
"each back-timing causes another dimension
to branch off from the point of changed action. Ideally
the other dimension is so minutely different from the first
that it makes no diffirence to society." "And if it
does make a difference?"
  "Then another time stream is created," Drickel
said, "along with more people who might ultimately spread
out through the dimensions in the future."
  Janeway nodded. The idea she had was getting more
and more concrete. "But nothing worse than that will
happen?"
  Drickel looked puzzled. "Not unless a time
paradox is set up. Or in worse cases, a
permanent time loop where the people involved are
doomed to repeat the event over and over. But
back-timing is usually done over such short time
frames that that rarely happens."
  "All right," Janeway said. She moved slowly
back across the dusty room. She was coated in the
gray 220
  stuff. It felt sticky and uncomfortable. She
stopped next to Drickel, put her hands on her
hips, and looked up at him. "You said you wanted
to help. Here's your chance." She pointed to his time
shuttle. "Can you make that shift back exactly enough
hours so that I can warn my crew not to enter that
shuttle?"
  Drickel went so pale as to earn his ghostly
appellation. His features in the lantern light and
floating dust almost appeared haunted. "That would
create two universes. One where your crew died and
you moved on, and one where they lived."
  "Simply by asking that question, Captain, you have
created other universes," Tuvok said. "In one
universe Drickel will say no and one he will say
yes."
  Janeway nodded. Tuvok was right, of course.
Her question had created the alternate universe. She
had to try a slightly different tack.
"Will the execution of my crew members make any
long-term difference to your society?"
  Drickel thought for a moment and then nodded. "The
other universe will still exist and move forward without your
crew members."
  Janeway caught how he phrased that statement and
glanced at Tuvok, who also had caught it.
Drickel had said "the other universe," which meant
he would help make it right in this one.
  "So you'll help us?" Janeway asked.
  Drickel smiled. "I'll try. But I'm not
sure we will succeed." "And thus," Tuvok said,
"even more alternate dimensions are created." "This
is giving me a headache," Paris, said. "Let's

  just go get Kim and the others and go on with our
lives-. and not worry about our other lives which we,
apparently, are not living?" Janeway laughed and
turned to Drickel. "Yes, let's."
  "Captain," Tuvok said. "It will not work."
  She turned to face her security officer. "Why
not?" she demanded. She could tell that she had asked
far too loudly, as her voice echoed in the
long-dead room.
  "It would set up a paradox," Tuvok
said. "And possibly a time loop in which we would be
stuck forever."
  "Explain." She didn't want to hear the
answer. She only wanted to hear what would save
her away team, bring them back from the dead. "For
example," Tuvok said, his voice calm as always.
"You and Mr. Drickel return to the point just before
the away team boarded the shuttle. You stop them.
At that point in time two of the both of you exist in that
universe. You, Captain, in the ship and on the
shuttle, and you, Mr. Drickel, at a time right
before you were sent here as well. as on that shuttle."
tilde Drickel sighed. "Tuvok, you continue
to astonish me. It took me eight months of time
school before I managed that concept, and apparently
I still forget about it." -
  He coughed and brushed dust off his face. "This, of
course, creates an additional problem. After we
warn your crew members, this universe does not
exist. Where would we return to? If we warn
them, then we never met, therefore we couldn't have warned
them. I was taught that basic "killing your
grandfathee principle in field training. A time
paradox is formed when 922
  the two time streams, or dimensions, flow
apart and a person is trapped in the wrong one."
  Tuvok nodded. "That is the logic of it, I am
afraid."
  Anger rose in Janeway's stomach and lodged
in her throat. She longed for Torres.
B'Elanna often expressed the anger they all
felt. "So," Janeway said as calmly as she
could, "if that isn't possible, how do we save the
away team?"
  I "I am afraid," Tuvok said, "that if the
action to save them has not already happened in this time
line, it will never happen."
  Drickel nodded.
  "I refuse to accept that," Janeway said.
"We have all of time at our disposal."
  "But, Captain," Tuvok said. "We also have a
society to think of." She knew that. She knew that
with the same bonedeep certainty she had had when she
had stared in the face of the Prime Directive and
decided to strand her people in the Delta Quadrant rather
than take the easy route home. She would not, could
not, hurt Alcawell, but she had to find a
solution.
  Had to.
  "When we're looking at millions of
years," Paris said, "we're only talking about
messing with a fraction of a fraction of time.
Surely-was "Such a simple suggestion,"
Drickel said, not letting him finish, "is a
felony in my culture."
  "Logical," Tuvok said.
  Janeway walked back to the door leading down the
long dark hallway. She didn't care how much
dust she kicked up. Her future would always have that
dark 223
  hallway ahead of it. She had lost other crew
members in the past and she would lose more in the
future. It was the curse of command. And each loss
would have a long dark hallway leading from it into her
nightmares. Dust floated peacefully in the air
around her. She leaned her head against the cold stone
of the wall and just tried to breathe. There had to be a
way.
  There had to be.
  The silence stretched to a minute before finally
Drickel broke it. "Captain," he said, his
voice echoing in the small chamber. She turned
around to see Drickel leaning against his machine and both
Tuvok and Paris standing holding lanterns. The dust
in the air gave the small room almost a
surreal feeling.
  "There might be a way without creating a paradox."
  "How?" she demanded, moving back closer to him and
sending more waves of dust into the air as she did.
  "Tavok is correct. If the action hasn't
already been taken in this time line, it won't be. And the
only way to discover that is to ask Control to do the
backtiming."
  "Control is the authority who killed my away
team. Now you want to ask them?"
  "Actually," Drickel said, "only one member
of Control. Rawlik." She glanced at Tuvok
and he shrugged, indicating that he had no idea what
Drickel's idea was. So she turned
to Drickel and took a deep breath. "Explain."
  Drickel nodded. "My suggestion is that we
trust the 224
  system. It seems that notwithstanding our surroundings,
the system, and therefore Control, works. And will continue
to work for hundreds of thousands of ydars. 19
  Tuvok nodded. "Logical."
  "I'm beginning to hate that phrase," Paris said.
"Rawlik is a friend of mine. He's the one who
convinced me to join the Back Room when I got
into some trouble early in my life. I know
for a fact that this is the first execution be's had
to perform and it will be tearing him up inside. In fact,
he was already cited for spending too much time on this,
trying-to save your crew. He would be grateful
for a chance to do just that."
  "He should have just opened the door, then-," Paris
said. "Tom." This time Janeway's voice held
a warning. "I'm sorry, Mr. Drickel. We
all have close friends on that team. Please continue."
  "Noughi said they were poisoned. I might be able
to convince Rawlik to reduce the amount of poison
and-was -
  "And I claim the bodies," Janeway said,
excitement coming back into her soul. "In this way, it
would appear to all concerned that the team died, but no one
actually would."
  "And this would not set up a time paradox," Tuvok
said. "But convincing Rawlik will be another matter,"
Drickel said. "I would do it in a heartbeat. At
most, he could get another Personal Involvement
citation. Most people at his level of command collect a
dozen
  of them before enforcement becomes routine. But I cannot
speak for him. And there is another problem."
  Janeway nodded. "If I go back,
I risk my life as well."
  Her words floated in the room like the dust. She
looked at Tuvok. He said nothing, which was as
close to actual approval as she would get. .
Paris leaned toward her. "I'll go, Captain.
I don't mind the risk." "Neither do 1, Mr.
Paris." She smiled at him. "And I have. had more
training in diplomacy than you." She tapped her
comm badge. "Commander Chakotay?"
  "Yes, Captain." His comforting voice filled the
room. She hadn't realized until just that moment how
comforting his voice was to her and how much she depended on
him.
  "I will be accompanying Mr. Drickel into the
past. Tuvok and Paris will explain."
  "Are you convinced this is the only way, Captain?
I would be glad to-was "This is the only way,
Commander," she said, her voice firm yet gentle.
"Thank you. If I do not return, your orders are
to leave orbit and continue for home. You are not to send
another rescue team. If this doesn't work, nothing
will. Understood?"
  "How long should we wait, Captain?"
  She turned to Drickel.
  "We'll be back in ten minutes in this
time frame if we're coming back," Drickel said.
"We may spend months getting through all the
regulations and paperwork, but in this time we will return
in ten minutes. That's as close as Noughi would dare
time it."
  "If you do take months, you'll never remember
it," Tuvok said. Janeway gave Tuvok a
puzzled look. That logic made no sense to her,
so she continued. "Chakatay, leave orbit in two
hours, taking as many raw materials as you can load
on board from the old shuttles."
  "Understood, Captain." There was a slight
pause. "And good luck." "Thanks."
  She turned to Drickel. "Let's do it."
  "We'll be waiting right here, Captain," Paris
said, "to help when you get back."
  "Thank you, Mr. Paris." She looked over
her shoulder at Tuvok. He nodded, which was all she
needed.
  Drickel was waiting, hovering above his seat. He
indicated a place beside him and she climbed in.
There were no real controls in front of her. Nothing
but what looked to be a simple keyboard.
Drickel reached over and punched a button.
"Standard communication, Codes 15 to 36.
Hi, Noughi. Two coming home to you."
  "Ready and waiting," Noughi said. "Oh, boy.
More paperwork." He sat down.
  Janeway braced herself as the lantern-lit du
tilde ty room vanished.


  JANEWAY BLINKED AS HER EYES
ADJUSTED TO THE BRIGHT light. She coughed dust
from her lungs, glad she didn't have to work in the
darkness of the caverns forever.
  The room that the shuttle had brought her and
Drickel to seemed smaller than the one Janeway
had just left. It had an odd sweet smell. A
single desk sat to one side, covered with a drooping
fern; A large workstation filled with computers, flashing
lights, and a sc rolling list of regulations was the
wall to Janeway's right.
  Drickel held her arm so that she remained in the
booth until the shuttle settled. A heavyset
middleaged man wearing a bright-almost neon red-wig
grinned at Drickel.
  "Man, you sure like doing reports," he said.
  Drickel grinned in return.
  A woman approached the booth.
"Well," she said. "I don't."
  Janeway recognized her voice. Noughi.
She was as slight as the man was large, and on her the
extended chin and tiny forehead of these people looked
startlingly attractive. She wore a black
shirt layered over a white one. They were opened at
the collars and cuffs, but shiny buttons indicated that
the fashion could go either way. Her tight leggings tied
at the ankles and on her tiny feet she wore the
largest, most useless pair of shoes that Janeway
had ever seen.
  "Captain Janeway," Drickel said. "This
is Noughi, and my good friend Red." Red was certainly
well named. Janeway nodded to both of them. Then
she looked at Drickel. He was flirting with
Noughi. Another side to him. A side Janeway
liked.
  "Welcome," Noughi said. She didn't even
totter on those amazing shoes. "Your people were
fabulous. Outside the Back Room, minor
'crats were laying wagers on how many Time Alarms
would sound before Control managed to outfox them."
  Janeway suppressed a shudder. These people had
built up so many rules and regulations that they often
forgot they were dealing with living beings.
"Noughi," Red said, with a bit of reprimand in his
voice. "This woman-has come to recover them."
  Noughi blushed. The color that rose in her skin
was a dull yellow, which clashed with the white of her
underblouse. "I didn't mean to insult-was "You
didn't," Janeway said. "It's nice to know some
people here were pulling for my team."
  "You headed for Period One, I assume?" Red
said to Drickel. Drickel nodded. "Would you tell
Rawlik we're coming?" "Be glad to," Noughi
said. "Good luck."
  "I'll walk you to the shuttle," Red said.
  They left through a door Janeway hadn't even
seen on the side of the room. She almost wished she
had brought Tuvok here. He would have been fascinated
by the look of these caverns three hundred thousand
years in the past. The hallways were still stone, but there
was no dust. She patted herself, and dust came off
her. She must look a fright. No matter. Soon
she would have her crew and be able to return to Voyager.
The corridor they entered had the faint scent of
burning pitch. They had entered at a fork. She
looked over her shoulder down the other fork. Trees
lined the walls and were probably the source of the
scent. Th6y they stepped into a side
room that seemed oddly familiar to Janeway. The
room was wide and tall and the stone had a flat,
utilitarian feel, although the floor was covered with
concrete that had long since been covered by dust.
  One ship sat in the center of that floor. The ship
was a miniature version of the shuttles that were on the
surface. It lacked the long landing legs, and the
tall ramp, and its circumference was smaller, but
its design was essentially the same.
  Drickel opened the ramp. Red moved close
to him. "You're taking quite a risk that Rawlik will work
with you, friend," he said. 230
  Drickel grinned. "I specialize in risk,
Red. You know that." "Well," Red said, "for what
it's worth, I'm cheering for you." Drickel
grasped Red's hand in a formal gesture. "It's
worth a lot." Then he climbed inside.
Janeway followed.
  The small craft had ten seats and no apparent
controls. There was no one else on board.
  Drickel took a deep breath and smiled at
Janeway. Then he sat down. Janeway did as
well.
  The seat was softer than she had expected, yet it
didn't invite comfort. A moment after she
sat, the door thumped closed. The ship lifted off
the platform and gently returned to the same place.
"Was there a problem?" Janeway asked.
  "No," Drickel said. "You've just traveled
over four hundred million years into the past."
  Janeway still had the dust from the future on her
clothing. These time distances seemed so fantastic to her
that she had no real conception of them. Yet she did
feel very far away from Paris, Tuvok, and
Voyager. It took the door longer to open than it
had taken them to travel in time. When it did,
Drickel stood and walked to the ramp. Janeway
did the same. If she hadn't known she had
traveled in time, she wouldn't have been able to tell at
first glance. The room appeared the same-the single
shuttle, the concrete floor, the stone corridor
leading away. Only the cast outside the ship had
changed.
  Several people wearing orange suits stood comnear the
corridor door. Before them a man who had the same
M
  general build as Paris stood waiting, his hands
behind his back. He had the characteristic Alcawellian
features, but on his large chin, he wore a
goatee. His hair was brown and he had
apparently forgone the wig that was custom to his people.
  Beside him were three long black boxes.
  Apparently coffins looked the same on every world.
Janeway put a hand to her forehead, feeling
momentarily dizzy. Drickel had said she might
spend three months here, fighting their bureaucracy.
Well, she'd stay years if she had to.
  Drickel hesitated at the sight of the coffins.
Then his hesitation changed. A smile played at his
lips. "Success," he whispered to Janeway.
"Let me do most of the talking."
  Drickel came forward, his hand out, and he and
Rawlik repeated the gesture that he and Red had just
done. "Thanks for meeting us," Drickel said.
"You know," Rawlik said, "you're causing me two
extra Personal Involvement citations."
  "You might want to go to the Regulation Bureau,"
Drickel said. "The rules on dispensing bodies
to the families should be the same for
Planet-Hoppers as they are for
Alcawellians."
  Rawlik shook his head. "I've had enough red
tape for this Real Time year." A smile hovered
around his mouth as well.
  Janeway's throat was dry.
Drickel had said they had success, but she didn't
know how he could tell. Her uniform was still covered with
dust from the future, and those coffins looked very, very
real. 232
  Janeway walked to Drickel's side.
  "Captain," Rawlik said, and Janeway almost
jumped. She hadn't been introduced. This man
acted as if he knew her. Perhaps he did. He
took her hand in his warm one. "Let me express
my sympathies for the fate of your crew." His
voice was louder than it needed to be. "Our laws
are harsh, but they are just. We protect our
society as best we c$59 No answer was
probably the best answer. It was good that she hadn't
allowed Paris to come in her place. He probably
would have expressed to Rawlik and his companions his
exact opinion of bureaucracy. And Paris
didn't handle flexible bureaucracies well.
He wouldn't have tolerated this one at all. Rawlik
was still holding her hand, and something had dug into her
palm. He was giving her something. It took all of
her control not to look at her hand in surprise.
  Then he let go. She cupped her palm. He
had given her a piece of paper. Rawlik turned
to the people in orange. "Load the coffins,"
he said. "The captain is here to claim her dead."
  I The orange suits picked up the coffins and
carried them like garish pallbearers into the shuttle. A
shudder ran down Janeway's back. She had
hoped she would never witness this, but always knew she
would. A captain lost crew.
  That was part of the risk.
  After they had placed the coffins inside, the
orange 233
  suits left the shuttlebay. Rawlik took a
step closer to her and spoke softly. "Captain, you
have the antidote in your hand. We had to use a drug
that simulated death. Couldn't reduce the dosage
because it would have been too obvious. I'm afraid you
only have an hour Real Time, otherwise they will
truly die."
  "Will that be enough?" Janeway asked Drickel.
  He nodded. "If we move now."
  "I can't thank you enough," Janeway said
to Rawlik. He grinned. "Actually, it was my
pleasure. Working with Drickel and you these last few
months felt like the old days, and we got to do some
good." Drickel chuckled. "I told you not to take
that desk job," he said. Rawlik shrugged. "It
has its benefits."
  "This is one," Drickel said to Rawlik.
"Tell me, how long did it take us to get this through
the council?"
  "Three months Real Time."
  "Three months?" Janeway said. "I've been
here three months?" "Yes," Rawlik said. "And
we even found time to help you clean that dust off your
uniform."
  She smiled too.
  "Go now," he said. "You're losing Real Time."
  Janeway nodded. "Thank you. And thank
Control."
  "You already did," he said and smiled. "Very
eloquently, I might add." Drickel took
her arm, and together they Went up the ramp. The coffins
sat just inside the door, grim and dark.
  "Oh, one more thing," Rawlik said. He came
close 234
  to the ramp, Janeway crouched so that she could hear
him. "Please tell Torres that I was only doing
my job."
  Janeway nodded and squeezed his hand. "As are
we all$99 She entered the shuttle, trailing her
fingers on the polished surface of all three
coffins. The paper was tilde afely
tucked in her left hand. "Let's go, Mr.
Drickel."
  "Sit down," he said. "This thing won't go
otherwise."
  She sat beside him and stared at the coffins. She could
almost hear the hour ticking away around her.
  The door closed, the shuttle rose and then landed
softly. Such an easy way to travel. And so very
quick. The door opened, and Red was where they had left
him.
  Only more orange suits stood around him. His
hair clashed with their outfits.
  "Let's move," Drickel said. "We only
have permission to allow this Planet-Hopper here for a
few more Real Time minutes. These coffins go with
her."
  The orange suits grabbed the coffins like
cordwood and hurried them to the door to the Back
Room. Then they set them down. "Security
Regulation 111.42," Drickel said, as if that were
explanation enough. At Janeway's confusion, he
added, "They can't come in here." In fact, Red
waited until the orange suits were out of the
corridor before opening the door. Noughi stood
inside, her shoes on the desk. They
looked like oddly shaped vases from that perspective.
She came out and together the four of them carried the
coffins inside the Back Room. 235
  They loaded the first coffin onto the shuttle with
Drickel aboard. The coffin barely fit within the
confines of it, sliding icross, the seat beside
Drickel.
  "Get me at ten minutes from last departure,"
Drickel said. "I'll unload and come right back
for the others."
  "I'd like to go with you," Janeway said.
  "Sorry," Noughi said. "This machine can only
carry two large items at a time."
  "Very well," Janeway said. Drickel had to go
since she didn't know how to operate the machine.
"Give this to Tuvok." She handed Drickel the
paperwith the antidote, on it.
  "Will do. I'll take care of things."
  She nodded and stood back from the shuttle.
  "What's the hurry?" Red asked. Then he
glanced at the captain. "Man, I can be as
callous as Noughi. And here I scolded her for that
remark earlier." Janeway smiled at him, making
certain the smile had a sadness to it. "We just want
to get our crew taken care of and get on with
our mission." Red nodded as Drickel gave
Noughi the go ahead. He and the coffin disappeared.
Thirty seconds Real Time later, which seemed like
an eternity to Janeway, Drickel's voice sa
* id, "Noughi, pull me back."
  A moment later he and the shuttle appeared.
  He repeated the process twice more and then
smiled at Janeway as he appeared again. He
patted the seat beside him and said. "You ready to go back
to your ship?"
  "Absolutely," she said.
  With a wave at Noughi and a quick shake of Red's
hand, she climbed in beside Drickel.
  Noughi looked at Drickel. "You're going to have
to help me with all this paperwork," she said.
  He smiled. "Gladly."
  A moment later the very dusty room surrounded her.
Paris was holding a lantern, looking like the
lamppost he had said he would be. Except that he
was coughing in the waves of dust.
  He was the best thing she had seen in ages.
  Literally.

  f tilde
  I
  Il

  JANEWAY HAD HERSELF, PARIS, AND
DRICKEL BEAMED DI-RECTLY to sickbay.
She couldn't wait to see if her team made it. As
she materialized near the door she saw the doctor
look up. He was standing near Kim, who was blinking
groggily. Torres was sitting up. Neelix had
one of Kes's hands trapped beneath his own and was talking
softly to her. Janeway smiled. They had made
it.
  They had survived.
  "No, no, no," Doc Zimmerman said.
"Absolutely not. Get out of here now. I warned
you before, especially you, Mr. Paris. You would not be
allowed in here again in that condition."
  "I'll do double duty to clean this place,"
Paris said as he walked over to Kim. He
clasped Kim's hand in a modified high-five.
"Kid, you gotta stop going places 238
  without me. I'da got you outta that mess in an
instant."
  "Yeah, right," Torres said. "Mr. High and
Mighty. You didn't face the Bureaucracy from
Hell."
  "You've never been in a Federation Penal
Settlement," Paris said. "I'm sorry,
Doctor," Janeway said. "Let us see the
away team and then we shall leave you alone."
  Doc Zimmerman shook his head. "No understanding
of medicine, no understanding of protocol, and no
understanding of cleanliness. It's a wonder this place
isn't a breeding ground for all sorts of exotic
dis- eases." He picked up his tricorder and
leaned over Kim again. "My darling, you should have seen
us," Neelix was saying to Kes in as soft a tone as
he could manage. "We were brilliant. Never, they
said, never had they known such daring, such persistence."
  "I missed you, Neelix," Kes said. "I'm
just glad you're back." "Frankly, my darling, so
am 1. 1 thought of you constantly-was "And spoke of
you even more," Kim said.
  "You will not move or speak until I tell you
to," Doc Zimmerman snapped. "Now I have
to run these readings all over again."
  "Sorry, Doc," Mm said.
  661 warned YOU- 19
  Janeway's smile grew. She had missed these
people. She was very relieved to have them back. She tapped
Drickel on the arm and nodded her thanks.
He smiled as well. Then she went to Torres's
side.
  "How are you feeling?" Janeway asked.
  Torres gave Drickel a questioning glance and then
looked at the captain. "Very lucky to be alive,
actually, Captain. how did you ever manage to beat
that system? We tried everything."
  Janeway glanced at Drickel. "It's a
long story that I don't even know parts of Suffice
it to say that Mr. Drickel here backed you out."
  "Back-timed." The word exploded from Torres.
"I hope I never hear that word again." Then she
looked up at Drickel. Her expression
softened. "Thank you."
  He bowed slightly. "You are more than
welcome."
  Janeway squeezed Torres's hand. "It's
good to have you back." "It's great to be back,
Captain."
  Janeway smiled at Torres.
  Torres recognized her own about-face.
"Believe me, Captain, after this experience,
Starfleet looks almost good to me."
  "Careful, Maquis," Kim said from the next
bed, 64 you'll impeach yourself." Torres
laughed. "I'm sure the feeling will pass."
  Janeway patted Torres's hand, leaving a
small dusty smudge on her skin. "I need
to clean up and then I will return," Janeway said.
"It is wonderful to see you all looking well."
  "Captain," Neelix said, "I think we can
safely add this admonition to any away teams.
No naps. Not ever$99
  Torres and Kim both laughed and Doc
Zimmerman scowled. "That sounds sensible, Mr.
Neelix." Janeway 240 THE ESCAPE
  walked back to Drickel. He was watching the
entire scene with a smile on his face.
  "I assume you'll want to be going back
soon," Janeway said, "but may I- offer you one
of our guest quarters so that you can clean up, and then
give you a tour of the ship and a hot meal?" "I'd
love that, Captain," Drickel said. "But I'm
not quite done with my business yet. There is the matter
of Kjanders we might want to settle." Kjanders.
He had left her mind entirely. Janeway
frowned. Another dilemma, and one she had best
meet head-on. "Mr. Drickel, I have
personal qualms about returning him to you knowing that he
faces certain death." "It's not quite
socertain, Captain," Drickel said.
"Actually, it's his choice." "Choice?"
Torres said from across the room. "How come we
didn't get a choice?" "If you are going
to agitate my patients, you are going to have to leave,"
Doc Zimmerman said. "I can only tolerate this
circus atmosphere for so long." "Don't
worry, Doc," Paris said. "If it gets too
much for you, we'll just shut down your program."
"These people are out of danger, but they still need
monitoring," Doc Zimmerman said. "Shutting
down my program would be a bad idea at this time."
Kim and Paris burst into laughter. Doc
Zimmerman looked confused. Janeway didn't
allow the interchange to distract her. "What type of
choice are you going to give him?" she asked
Drickel. "I'm going to offer him a job." 241
STAR TREK: VOYAGER "A job?" If
Janeway had expected an answer it hadn't been
that. "But you told me he was a wanted criminal."
"He is wanted for violations from five-hundred
series to the eight-hundred series and probably some
beyond. Very creative." Then Drickel grinned. "But
not as creative as I was." "You?" Janeway
looked up at the alien face. She was
honestly surprised. He laughed. "Yes, me.
In our society, the risk takers tend to get in
trouble early because they fight the system. But it's those
type of risk takers that can do my job very well."
. "So you want to offer him a Watchman job like
yours?" Drickel. nodded. "He'll have to survive
the schooling, but I doubt he'll have much trouble with that
if he's managed to elude Control as long as he
has." The captain looked at Torres, who was
smiling. Janeway was glad she had the common
decency to not laugh. "We are just learning the fact in
our culture that sometimes the rebels make the best
team members," Janeway said to Drickel. Then
she looked at Torres again. "But we are learning
it." Torres nodded thank you and said nothing.
Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Mr.
Kjanders, you are wanted in sickbay immediately."
"Urn," Kjanders's voice responded, sounding
confused. "Urn, sure. I guess. Be right there."
He signed out. Kes smiled at Janeway.
"Kjanders has spent most of 242 THE
ES"...PE his time in the officers" mess," she
said. "He discovered that there was more than one kind of
coffee." "He didn't give you any trouble, did
he?" Neelix sat up, obviously
ready to do battle. With one hand, Doc Zimmerman
pushed him back on the table. "I only spoke
to him once, Neelix," Kes said. "He wits very
polite." The ship was back to normal. Janeway
wiped a hand over her face. Layers of dust
smudged around. She, Paris, and Drickel looked
as if they had been mining sledge on Druvarious
IV. Then she remembered the message she still
carried. "I almost forgot," she said.
"B'Elanna, Mr. Rawlik said to tell you that
he was only doing his job." A faraway look
came into Torres's eyes. "I told him we
all were," Janeway said. Torres smiled.
"Thank you, Captain." Janeway noded. At that
moment Kjanders appeared in the door. He saw
Drickel and his mouth opened wide. "Control," he
said. "How did Control get hereThat' "That,"
Drickel said, "is something you will get to learn in the
next few Real Time weeks. Can you excuse me,
Captain?" "Only if you take me up on that
meal. And I would like to discuss the ruined shuttles
below." ""We already discussed the shuttles,"
Drickel said. "Briefly," Janeway said.
"But I would like you to give some consideration to allowing us
to take some interior plates from just a few
of the old wrecks. We could use the resources in
our journey home and consider243 STAR TREK:
VOYAGER ing the fate of the old wrecks, I
don't think anything would be missed." Drickel
laughed. "In exchange for a good hot meal and good
conversation, of course." He bowed to her again, then put
an arm around Kjanders's shoulders as he led him to a
comer of sickbay. As they walked, Janeway heard
Drickel recite several numbers. Kjanders
stopped and said, "You want me to what"...P" Then
Janeway laughed. They just might have to stay in
orbit another day Real Time before everything was
resolved with Alcawell and the two
Alcawellian's. But she didn't mind. After
all, on a journey of the length they faced, what was
an extra day or so along the way?