I am the Guardian of Star Traks.  Many journeys
into stupidity are possible through me.  This is one
of them.  And, just so you know, Star Traks is owned
by Alan Decker just as it always has been reaching
back through the murky mists of the past.  Likewise,
Star Trek is owned by Viacom, which bought Paramount,
who bought Desliu.   And now, on with the stupidity.
                                

STAR TRAKS:
	PLEASE HOLD FOR OBLIVION
                     By Alan Decker
                               

                                
   THE PROLOGUE ON THE EDGE OF FOREVER
                       
     "Captain's Log.  Stardate 52014.6.  The Secondprize has 
spent the last week tracing the source of some anomalous 
temporal fluctuations picked up by a Federation science probe 
that was launched towards the center of the galaxy.  I'm not 
sure why they sent us, but Admiral Wagner told me that it 
had something to do with the sheer amount of time we've 
spent mucking with time.  I truly resent the implication.  We 
only messed with time on purpose once.  All the others have 
been accidents.  Admittedly, there have been a lot of accidents, 
but that still doesn't mean we're doing anything wrong.  In any 
case, we're out here until we figure out what's going on.  At 
least they didn't send anyone from Temporal Investigations with 
us.  
     "On the downside, we're short a bartender.  For the first time 
in as long as I've known her, Trinian has taken a vacation.  Her 
staff is fine and all, but no one beats Trinian's ability to slam you 
back into your place after you think you've done something really 
great.  We'll just have to muddle through without her biting verbal 
jabs and threats of physical violence for a few weeks."

     "Captain Rydell to the bridge," Lieutenant Commander Jaroch's 
voice said over the comm system interrupting Rydell's nap.  This 
search duty was Jaroch's forte, so Rydell had taken an informal 
vacation until something important happened.  Obviously, it had.  
Rydell just hoped they'd have it wrapped up before his scheduled 
holodeck time at 1800 hours.  He was deep into a quest in the Xanth 
program he'd created.  Sure, Starfleet was fun and all, but there was 
nothing like trying to outwit a few angry mythological beasts on the 
holodeck.
     Rydell pulled himself together and strolled out onto the 
bridge.  Jaroch immediately vacated the command chair and 
headed back to his position at the science console.
     "What's up?" Rydell asked.
     "I have a fix on the source of the temporal phenomenon," 
Jaroch reported.  "And a hypothesis as to its origin."
     "Sounds like you hit the jackpot, Jaroch," Rydell said, settling 
into his chair.  "Let's see it."
     Jaroch brought a diagram of the star system they were 
approaching up on the viewscreen.  It seemed ordinary enough.  
A star, twelve planets, three Class M.
     "This is the Batonis System," Jaroch reported.  "As far as we 
know, it is a barren wasteland.  What life there is has not advanced 
much beyond elementary forms...certainly nothing of sentience."
     "Okay...so?"
     "I am getting to that, sir.  Please do not interrupt my lead-in."
     "Sorry.  Continue."
     "Whilst these scans..."
     "Whilst?"
     "It is a word."
     "Not one that anyone uses," Rydell said.
     "I just did."
     "Never mind.  Go on."  If Jaroch didn't wrap this up soon, 
Rydell definitely would miss his holodeck appointment...and a 
certain nymph he'd been developing a relationship with.
     "Thank you," Jaroch said.  "Now then, my scans continued 
to detect temporal disturbances; however, they were very faint.  
Focusing in on the fourth moon of Batonis Six, I, as you said, 
hit the jackpot.  The source of the disturbances is there."
     "Good work, Jaroch.  Ensign Bailey, set a course for 
Batonis Six.  Take us into orbit as soon as you can."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Sir, you did not let me finish," Jaroch said.
     "There's more?"
     "I told you that I had a hypothesis as to the..."
     "Oh yeah," Rydell said quickly.  "What have you got?"
     Jaroch changed the image on the viewscreen to a couple 
of sets of identical scans.
     "The top scan was taken by the Secondprize," Jaroch 
said.  "As you can see, various forms of temporal energy 
are present in high degrees."
     "Uh huh," Rydell said.
     "The bottom, nearly-identical set of scans was taken 
by a Federation science team doing research at an artifact 
known as the Guardian of Forever."
     "Oh sh**."
     "I see that you have heard of it."
     "It's way up there in the 'Places You Should Avoid' manual 
Starfleet gives all new captains," Rydell said.  "Right between 
the embryonic star clusters of the Cyresias Belt and the
Intergalactic House of Pancakes on Mars.  Very scary place."
     "Correct me if I am wrong, sir, but is that not the very 
restaurant you recommended to Commander Dillon when he 
had that conference on Mars last year?"
     "Was it?" Rydell replied smiling.  
     "Yes, I believe he came down with dysentery soon after," 
Jaroch said.
     "Oops.  My mistake."
     "Now about the Guardian."
     "Oh yeah.  Where did we leave off?"
     "You had just said 'oh sh**.'"
     "Right.  Got it.  I've read the reports on the Guardian.  
Not exactly a place I want to hang out.  So what do you think, 
Jaroch?  Is this another one?"
     "If it is, it is several times more powerful.  The source of 
the temporal emissions is deep within the moon, yet the probe 
was able to detect them from parsecs away."
     "I guess we'd better check it out."  Rydell turned to the officer 
manning tactical.  "Send a message to Starfleet reporting our 
position and situation."
     "Aye."
     "I guess CiCi's going to have to wait."
     "Excuse me, sir?" Jaroch asked.
     "Just a nymph."
     "Rather than pursue this and risk a headache, I am going 
to let the matter drop," Jaroch said, turning back to his console.
     "Good plan."

     Commander Scott Baird paced the living room of his 
quarters like a caged animal.
     "Would you relax?" his wife of three months, Lieutenant 
Commander Emily Sullivan, said as she emerged from the 
bedroom having just finished getting ready.
     "Why are we doing this?" Baird said for about the eighty 
millionth time that evening.  
     "Patricia is our friend.  This is the least we can do.  Now, 
what do you think?"  Sullivan did a quick spin, showing off 
the suit she'd picked up on their last shore leave.
     "You look great," Baird replied distractedly.
     "Thanks," Sullivan said annoyed.  "Can you just get past 
this one tiny detail and enjoy dinner?"
     "Tiny detail?  Emily, we're having dinner with Commander 
Dillon.  Dinner implies conversation.  I don't want to talk to 
him."
     "How many times have you two ever had to talk to 
each other?" Sullivan demanded.   "Other than staff 
meetings, how often do you even see each other?  I sit on 
the bridge with him every single day; you can make it 
through one lousy meal."
     "I didn't realize that being married would mean 
that I had to spend time with every asshole on the ship 
just because I'm your husband."
     "I guess you should have read the fine print," Sullivan 
said, heading towards the door.   "Now come on."
     "Hey, just because you got promoted...again...doesn't 
mean you can order me around like this.  I still outrank 
you."
     "Are we jealous?" Sullivan asked, turning around to face 
her husband.
     "No.  But you only had to spend two years at lieutenant.  
I was one for at least four."
     "I guess Starfleet just recognized my superior abilities," 
Sullivan said smiling.  "So let's go before my congratulatory 
dinner gets cold."

     "Why do we have to do this again?" Commander Travis 
Dillon asked as he set the dining table in the quarters he 
shared with Lieutenant Patricia Hawkins.
     "Emily and Scott are the only people we know who live 
on this deck.  They're our neighbors.  We can at least have 
them over for dinner."
     "We didn't have to move down to the couples and families 
deck," Dillon replied.  "Things weren't that cramped in my 
quarters."
     Hawkins just glared at him.
     "Okay, fine.  Just so long we don't have to talk about 
Sullivan's promotion."
     "This dinner is kind of in her honor."
     "Oh God."
     "What's the problem, Travis?"
     "She gets two promotions in two years, and I'm still 
stuck at commander.  It's not fair!"
     "You were a captain for a while."
     "Yeah, three days.  Big deal.  I just don't want to listen 
to her gloat for hours upon end."
     The door chime sounded rescuing Hawkins from any 
further tirades from Dillon.
     "I'll get it," Hawkins said, heading for the living room.   
"Go check on dinner."
     "It's programmed into the replicator.  What's to check?"
     "Just go!"
     "All right.  All right."  Dillon wandered over to the replicator 
unit while Hawkins answered the door.  He could hear the sound
of their voices from the other room.
     "Hi!"
     "Hi!"
     "I'm so glad you could make it."
     "Like it was a long walk."  Commander Baird sounded as 
amiable as ever.
     "Travis, we've got company," Hawkins called.  What 
was she doing?  Of course, they had company.  But she sounded 
so...perky.  Scary.  After straightening his uniform, which 
Hawkins wasn't happy about him wearing anyway, Dillon 
entered the living room.  Baird had planted himself on the 
sofa while Hawkins and Sullivan were admiring the Elasyian 
crystals Hawkins had purchased during her last shore leave.
     "Hi," Dillon said, for lack of any better conversation openers.
     "Evening, sir," Sullivan said then turned right back to 
Hawkins.  Baird just nodded in Dillon's general direction.  
Dillon took a seat in the armchair across from the sofa and 
wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now.
     "You have got to see this sword I just got.  It came in on 
the last courier ship," Hawkins said, leading Sullivan back to 
Dillon and Hawkins's bedroom.  Dillon and Baird were now 
alone in the living room.  An uncomfortable silence, interrupted 
only by the low, rhythmic thrum of the ship's engines, settled 
over the room.
     Baird stared off into space.
     Dillon rearranged duty rosters in his mind.
     Baird still stared.
     Dillon wondered where the hell his dumbbell set had 
disappeared to.
     Stare.
     Man, it's quiet.
     Stare.
     99 bottles of beer on the wall.  99 bottles...
     Stare.
     Too quiet.
     Stare.
     "So..." Dillon's voice shattered the quiet.
     "Sir, don't," Baird said quickly.
     "Excuse me?"
     "You have nothing to say to me.  I have nothing to say 
to you.  Let's not even bother."
     "Oh thank god," Dillon said, relieved.  "I mean, 
just because our significant others are friends doesn't 
mean that we have to be."
     "Exactly."
     "You don't know what a load off my mind that is."
     "Good."
     "I couldn't think of a single thing to talk about."
     "Shut up."     
     "Got it."
     "And how are the men doing?" Sullivan asked, as 
she and Hawkins re-entered the room.
     "Peachy," Baird replied.
     "Couldn't be better," Dillon added."
     "Right," Hawkins said, eying the two men suspiciously.  
"Why don't we just go ahead and eat?"
     "Great idea," Baird said, getting up from the sofa.
     "I hope you like this evening's menu," Dillon said as he 
followed the group into the dining room.  "I scoured the 
culinary databases looking for interesting yet tasty selections."
     "Oh boy," Sullivan said, unsure if this was a good thing 
or not.
     "It's wonderful, trust me," Hawkins said.  "I made him try 
all the dishes out on me before serving them to innocent victims.  
Actually, Travis' got good taste in food.  He usually selects
our meals."
     "A hidden talent, Commander?" Sullivan asked.
     "Years and years of eating," Dillon replied.
     "Enough banter.  Let's get to it," Baird said.  He had already 
firmly planted himself at the table.
     "No arguments here," Hawkins said.
     "Fine.  Computer, initiate Culinary Program Dillon 36," 
Dillon said.  The replicator flashed to life just as the shipwide 
comm signal sounded.
     "All senior officers to the bridge," Captain Rydell's voice said.
     "I guess I'll have to eat alone," Baird said smiling, as he 
watched the food begin to materialize.
     "And that includes you, Commander Baird," Rydell finished 
as if psychically detecting his chief engineer's remark.
     "What?  I never have to go to the bridge!"
     "First time for everything, hon," Sullivan said.
     "This is why I stayed in uniform," Dillon said 
heading toward the door.
     "Damn, I hate it when he's right.  It just encourages 
him," Hawkins said.

     Trinian strolled leisurely through the outdoor market 
on Betazed wondering why she hadn't taken a vacation 
sooner.  Sure, bartending on the Secondprize wasn't exactly 
the highest stress job in the world.  In fact, for a being of 
her power and capabilities, it was downright mundane, 
but she knew she was doing valuable work.  In any case, 
it was nice to get away for a while and spend some time 
just for herself.  If 600 years of life had taught her anything, 
it was that you just had to give yourself a little present 
every now and then.
     "THEY'RE HERE!" a familiar voice boomed in her head.
     "Guardian?" Trinian asked.  It'd been so long since 
she'd been contacted that she wasn't really sure anymore.
     "THEY'RE HERE.  YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO STOP 
THEM."
     "But I've only been gone three days.  Why did they have 
to show up now?"
     "YOU HAVE FAILED.  ACTION MUST BE TAKEN."
     "God damn it!  This was my one vacation.  My only 
one.  Alex would have to go there now!"
     "STOP WHINING.  ACTION IS BEING TAKEN."
     "Wait!  Let me get to a comm system.  I can stop them."
     "THERE IS NO TIME.  ACTION HAS BEEN TAKEN.  
THAT IS ALL."
     "Sh**."

     "It's a rock," Dillon said, looking at the desolate moon 
slowly rotating by on the viewscreen.
     "That is exactly what the simple-minded are supposed 
to see," Jaroch said from his position at the science console.
     "So what's the big deal?" Baird asked gruffly.  He was 
sitting at the seldom-used bridge engineering station with 
his arms crossed and looking surly.
     "This," Jaroch said, pressing a couple of buttons on his 
console.  The image of the moon was obscured behind a huge 
amount a wavy lines, numerical readouts, and flashing lights."
     "What the hell?" Baird said, leaning forward in his chair.
     "What are we looking at?" Hawkins asked from tactical.
     "Well, if there's a central storehouse of temporal energy in 
the galaxy, this is probably it," Rydell said, lounging in his 
command chair.
     "Time central station," Dillon said.
     "In a matter of speaking," Jaroch replied.
     "By all appearances, this place is similar to the 
Guardian of Forever only much much more powerful," 
Rydell said.
     "We have detected a large series of caverns within the 
moon where the energy readings seem to be focused," Jaroch 
added.
     "So we're going in?" Baird said.
     "Absolutely," Rydell replied.  "You, Jaroch, Hawkins, and 
Dillon, because I know he'll throw a fit if he doesn't get 
to see the 'time thingy,' will accompany me down to the moon. 
Lieutenant Commander Sullivan will have the conn."
     "The joys of promotion," Sullivan said.
     "Someone has to watch the ship while we're gone," 
Rydell said.
     "Exactly," Sullivan said.  "And by the way, we're 
entering the Batonis system now."
     "Take us into orbit around the moon," Rydell said as he 
activated the shipwide intercom from the control on his 
chair's armrest.  "All hands, this is your Captain speaking.  
Just wanted to let you all know that we're taking up 
orbit around a moon that's emitting extreme temporal
disturbances.   Time will no longer be a constant, and 
almost anything can happen.  Although these distortions 
are for the most part harmless, they have been known to 
cause mild nausea, headaches, vomiting, and, on occasion, 
time rippling.  Should any of these effects occur, report
immediately to sickbay.  And please, remember that each 
cabin on board the Secondprize is equipped with a barf bag 
for your comfort and convenience.  Rydell out."
     "Most inspiring, sir," Jaroch said.
     "I try," Rydell replied smiling as he stood up and 
headed towards the turbolift.  "Hold things together up 
here, Sullivan."
     "Not a problem," Sullivan replied.
     "Hey, find your own trademark line," Rydell said.
     "Righty-O."
     "But not that one," Rydell added as the turbolift doors 
closed.
     "Alright, everybody, musical chairs!" Sullivan shouted.  
She moved back to the command chair as Ensign Andrea 
Carr, the operations officer but also the second best pilot 
on the ship, hopped over from the ops console to helm.  
Ensign Bill Woodville moved down from monitoring the
environmental systems console at the rear of the bridge 
to take over at ops.
     "Nothing like a change of scenery, huh guys?" Sullivan 
said.
     "I'm overwhelmed," Carr replied..

     "Why did I have to come to Betazed?" Trinian wondered 
as she searched for a subspace transmitter station.  While the 
inhabitants couldn't read her mind, she'd already been stopped by
at least thirty people who could sense emotional distress coming 
from her.  Next time, no telepaths...if there was a next time.  
She just had to make it to a transmitter and contact the
Secondprize before Rydell could screw anything up.  If 
she didn't reach him in time, she was going to have the bad 
vacation story to end all bad vacation stories.  Actually, it'd 
be the end of everything period.  Where the hell was a comm 
unit?

     Rydell and company materialized in a surprisingly well lit 
cavern.  The walls of the place itself glowed with some type of 
energy.  Jaroch immediately pulled out his tricorder and started
scanning.
     "It is chronometric," Jaroch reported.  "This entire chamber 
is literally charged with it."
     Commander Baird performed a few scans of his own and let 
out a low whistle.
     "The cavern is constructed of the same materials as the Guardian 
found by Captain Kirk," Baird said.  "The readings here are 
almost off the scale, though."
     "I believe this is the central area," Jaroch said, pointing to 
a ring of perfectly conical stalagmites jutting up from the floor 
of the cave.  Each of them glowed brightly with the same
yellowish energy being emitted from the walls.
     "I really don't like this," Hawkins said, fingering her phaser.
     "I am not detecting any life signs," Jaroch replied.  "I see 
little cause for alarm."
     "But this is just one big time machine," Hawkins said.  
"Who knows what sort of mess it could cause?"
     "A QUESTION!  I HAVE WAITED EONS FOR A 
QUESTION!"
     "Oh boy," Rydell said softly.  
     "What'd I do?" Hawkins said.
     "You appear to have awakened it," Jaroch said.
     "I COULD CAUSE A BIG MESS.  ASK ME ANOTHER 
ONE."
     "What should I do, Captain?" Hawkins said.
     "ASK ME A QUESTION...AND DON'T CALL ME 
CAPTAIN.  I AM FOREVER."
     "You've made a friend, Lieutenant," Rydell said.
     "I thought you were the Guardian of Forever," Dillon said.
     "ALL QUESTIONS MUST BE IN THE FORM OF A 
QUESTION."
     "Aren't you the Guardian of Forever?" Dillon asked, 
annoyed.
     "NO.  I AM FOREVER.  THERE ARE OTHERS 
THAT GUARD ME."
     "F*** me," Baird said.
     "NOW ASK ME A REAL QUESTION!!!"
     "Let me handle this," Dillon said.
     "Gladly," Hawkins replied.
     "When was the Battle of Hastings?"
     "1066"
     "He's good," Dillon said.
     "I have one," Jaroch said.
     "Go for it," Rydell said.
     "When will the universe end?"
     "WOULD YOU LIKE IT TO?"
     "Only occasionally," Baird remarked.
     "I CAN DO IT."
     "You can end the universe?" Rydell asked.
     "EASILY.  WATCH."
     "No!!!!" Hawkins, Dillon, Jaroch, Baird, and Rydell 
screamed.

     Lieutenant Commander Sullivan gripped the armrests 
of the command chair as another wave of temporal 
disturbances rocked the ship.
     "Our orbit is stable," Ensign Carr reported from the 
helm.
     "That one was 3% larger than the last," Ensign Woodville 
added from ops.
     "Something's going on down there," Sullivan muttered.
     "I am reminded of Lodek's theory of event exponentiality," 
Woodville said.  "Lodek postulated that..."
     "Not now, Woodville," Sullivan said.  "I still haven't made 
it through that comparative study of Hitchcock and 
Einstein you handed me last shift."
     "Eisenstein!" Woodville said.  "He was a film director."
     "Whatever," Carr snapped.  "Can we just sit quietly 
and watch the sensors?"
     "But talking passes the time so much more quickly," 
Woodville said.
     "Depends on who you're talking to," Sullivan muttered.
     "We're being hailed, ma'am," Lieutenant Prescott said 
from tactical, providing a welcome topic shift.  "And it's 
Trinian."
     "No.  It's Eisenstein," Woodville said, growing flustered.  
"I've seen every single one of his films."
     "The hail is from Trinian," Sullivan said slowly so 
Woodville's mind would catch it.  He was certifiably brilliant, 
but sometimes the little, obvious things just took a while 
to sink in.  "On screen."
     "Captain!" Trinian said.
     "He's on an away mission right now, Trinian," Sullivan 
said.  "How's the vacation going?"
     "Sh**ty.  Now where's Alex?"
     "Is something wrong?"
     "Yes!  Get Alex and get away from there."
     "Commander, we're being hailed from the surface," 
Prescott reported.
     "Hold on a second, Trinian.  I'm going to have to mute 
you a second.  Sullivan here."
     "We may have a bit of a situation down here," Rydell's 
voice said.
     "What kind of situation?"
     "The thing we found says it's going to end the universe.  
We'll see what we can do, but keep the engines hot.  We 
may have to get out of here in a hurry."
     "How are we going to outrun the destruction of the 
universe?" Sullivan asked.
     "I have no idea.  If it happens, I'll think of something.  
Rydell out."
     "Great.  Trinian?"
     "What?"
     "Can I call you back?  The captain seems to have 
started the end of the universe."
     "SH**!  I'm too late.  Get your shields up now.  
Somebody's coming after you."
     "But we can't beam..."
     "It won't matter if she destroys you.  Raise the shields."
     "You heard the lady," Sullivan said to Prescott.
     "Aye, raising shields on orders from the bartender."
     "Can it, Prescott."
     "It's been nice knowing you," Trinian said.  "I'm 
going to go get drunk now."
     "Have fun," Sullivan replied, feeling a bit confused 
by the entire exchange.  "Secondprize out."  Just as the 
starfield reappeared on the viewscreen, the ship rocked 
again, this time much more violently.
     "That wasn't a temporal disturbance," Sullivan said, 
fearing the worst.
     "Negative," Woodville said.  "I'm detecting plasma residue 
against the shields.  Somebody shot at us."
     "But who?" Sullivan said.
     "Nothing's on sensors," Prescott said.  Another blast 
rocked the ship.  "Wait.  I've got a trajectory.  These 
things are coming in from a long way off."
     "Anything on long range sensors?"
     "Maybe," Woodville said.  "I'm getting some energy 
readings at the very edge of our range and moving in 
fast."
     "Carr, take us to the other side of the moon."
     "But we won't be able to get clear readings until 
whatever that thing is is almost on top of us," Woodville 
objected.
     "So you prefer being shot at," Carr said.
     "Not really."
     "Then I'm moving the ship."
     "Excuse me, when did we become a democracy?" 
Sullivan asked.
     "The captain leaves for five minutes, and you 
already think you're a god," Carr said.
     "I'll ignore that, Ensign.  And please refer to me 
as 'Your worship' from now on," Sullivan replied smiling.

     "THEY HAVE MOVED AWAY," Guardian of 
Forever #492 said anxiously.  "OUR ATTACK WAS 
INSUFFICIENT."  
     Morticent, commander of the Seatellan Starship 
Mitgogae, looked over at the glowing obelisk of rock 
standing to the right of her command chair.
     "We'll be on them soon enough," Morticent said, trying 
to ease the Guardian's nerves.  For a piece of rock, it sure 
was jumpy.
     "FIRING FROM THIS DISTANCE WAS A 
TACTICAL ERROR."
     "Let me command the ship," Morticent said.  "And 
I'd like to remind you that if you'd assigned me rather 
than Trinian to the Rydell situation, we wouldn't be in 
this mess in the first place."
     "TRINIAN WAS THE BEST CHOICE DUE TO 
HER PRIOR RELATIONSHIP WITH RYDELL'S 
ANCESTORS."
     "That relationship is exactly the reason she got 
sloppy," Morticent replied.
     "We're approaching Forever," the flight officer reported.
     "Deactivate distortion field and raise shields," Morticent 
ordered.  
     "THIS HAD BETTER WORK."
     "At least if it doesn't, you won't be around to 
complain about it."

     "TEN MINUTES UNTIL UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION.  
YOU'RE GOING TO BE REALLY IMPRESSED WITH 
THIS ONE."
     "I can't believe you destroyed the universe," Dillon said.
     "I did not!" Rydell shouted.  "I just asked it a question."
     "Yes, and now look where we are," Dillon said. 
     "I believe that we should be looking for a solution rather 
than arguing," Jaroch said calmly.
     "You think?" Baird said.  "I'd rather just sit here and 
wait to get f***ed!  Of course, we need a f***ing solution."
     "No need to get excited, Commander," Jaroch said.
     "Captain, maybe we should try our phasers," Hawkins 
suggested, reaching for her weapon.  "We could get lucky 
and disable it."
     "Such an action could speed our destruction," Jaroch 
said.
     "Well, it's better than doing nothing," Baird said, 
pulling out his phaser.  "I'm with Hawkins."
     "Hold on, people," Rydell said.  "We aren't dead yet.  
We can fix this."
     "I would love to hear your suggestion on the subject," 
Jaroch said.
     "Hawkins, it likes you.  Ask it to stop," Rydell said.
     "It likes me?" Hawkins said.  "Where did you get that?"
     "WELL, I DO LIKE YOU."
     "Great."
     "Just ask the damn question!" Rydell said.
     "Can you please not destroy the universe?" Hawkins 
asked.
     "TOO LATE.  I'VE ALREADY STARTED."
     "This is not going to look good on my report to 
Starfleet," Dillon muttered.
     "Will you please shut up?" Rydell said.
     "I concur," Jaroch said.
     "I WILL NOT SHUT UP.  I AM FOREVER."
     "I wasn't talking to you!" Rydell snapped.
     "UNLESS YOU ASK ME A QUESTION, I WON'T 
LISTEN TO YOU.  SO THERE!"
     "You sure we can't just shoot this thing?" Baird said.
     "DON'T F*** WITH FOREVER."
     "Wow, he catches on quick," Baird said.
     
     "Sensors are clearing," Woodville reported.  "It's definitely 
some kind of ship, but I am getting massive energy readings...
most likely lots of powerful weapons capable of slicing us to 
ribbons."
     "Prescott, hail them."
     "They're responding."  The image of a beautiful young 
woman with long, straight black hair and slightly menacing 
green eyes appeared on the screen.  She sat in what looked 
like a standard bridge command chair while a glowing 
obelisk pulsated just to the right of her chair.
     "Leave this place at once," the woman said.
     "Hello to you, too," Sullivan said.
     "I have no time for social niceties."
     "Too bad.  They tend to go a lot farther with me than 
unexplained demands."
     "I am Morticent, First Monitor of Forever and 
commander of the Starship Mitgogae.  In the name of 
Forever and the people of Seatella, I order you to leave 
this moon."
     "Lieutenant Commander Emily Sullivan in command 
of the Federation Starship Secondprize.  Delighted to meet 
you.  I'd love to leave, but members of our crew are in the 
moon as we speak."
     "They haven't started the destruction of the universe 
yet, have they?" Morticent asked.
     "Uh...yeah.  Now that you mention it.  Do you know 
how to stop it by any chance?"
     "DIE!!!" a deep voice boomed.  From the rapid 
flashing of the rock beside Morticent, Sullivan concluded 
that it had just spoken.
     "Damn you!  Why did you have to come here?" 
Morticent shouted.
     "Orders are orders," Sullivan said.  "Now, if you've 
finished accosting us, we'll just fix the whole universe 
thing and be on our way."
     "You must be stopped before you make things worse."
     "Worse than the destruction of the universe?"
     "Shut up!"
     "Your species doesn't go much for diplomacy, I take 
it," Sullivan said.
     "I will obliterate you all!!!"  Morticent slammed her 
fist down on the armrest of her command chair, closing 
the comm channel.
     "Great.  Why do I always have to fight the super 
battlecruisers?" Sullivan muttered.   "Sullivan to away 
team."
     "Rydell here."
     "Uh...we're about to be attacked up here.  You guys 
might want to beam back to the ship now."
     "No can do.  We can't leave if this thing's going to 
end the universe," Rydell replied.
     "Okay.  Well then, I suggest you throw up some 
kind of interference field or something so that our new 
friend doesn't beam you to her ship."
     "Her?  Who is she?"
     "She says her name's Morticent of the Seatella."
     "Never heard of them.  Just take care of it.  We're 
kind of busy.  Rydell out."
     "Gee, you'd think the world were coming to an 
end," Carr quipped.
     "That's not funny," Sullivan said.

     "I should be up there," Hawkins said.
     "All of us should," Rydell replied.  "But we've got 
a few things to do down here first.   Baird, Jaroch what 
about blocking any transporters?"
     "THAT'S NOT MY DEPARTMENT."
     "That's why he didn't ask you," Hawkins said.
     "Give me a minute," Baird said.  "I'm going to 
need everyone's phaser."
     "My phaser," Hawkins said, clutching it closer to her 
chest.
     "It's either that or BOOM."
     "All right.  All right."  Hawkins handed her phaser 
to Baird followed by the other members of the away 
team.  
     "You are attempting to connect them in series to emit 
an interference field," Jaroch said. 
     "No kidding."
     "I would recommend using a tricorder to control the 
field harmonics and stability."
     "Way ahead of you," Baird said, popping open the 
back of his tricorder to reveal the circuitry.
     "FIVE MINUTES TO UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."

     "The Mitgogae is closing," Prescott reported.
     "Arm all weapons.  Andrea, she's going to have to 
come around one side of the moon or the other to get a 
shot at us."
     "So, as soon as she does, you want me to make a run 
for it?"
     "No, I want you to whip around the moon behind her 
and blast her ass off."
     "You got it."
     "Isn't that against Starfleet policy?" Woodville asked.
     "Why?  We played nice.  She shot at us first.  Now, 
we get to kick some ass," Sullivan said.  "Where is she?"
     "One hundred thousand kilometers and closing."
     "Ready, Prescott?"
     "Prepared to commence ass kicking," Prescott replied.
     "She's headed toward the moon's south pole," Woodville 
reported.  She's trying to come up under us."
     "Now, Andrea!"
     Carr slammed the Secondprize into a full impulse tight 
turn for just the seconds needed to zip around behind the 
Mitgogae.  As soon as the rear of the alien vessel came 
into view, Prescott let loose a barrage of phaser and quantum 
torpedo fire.

     "THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GET 
COCKY!" Guardian #492 bellowed as sparks flew across 
the Mitgogae's bridge.  The blasts from the Secondprize 
had been enough to topple his obelisk onto the deck.  If 
he had a face, he'd have been staring at the floor.  
     "Damage report!" Morticent shouted, ignoring the 
criticism.
     "It felt worse than it was," her flight officer reported.  
"Minor damage to the power distribution network.  A few 
system overloads.  That's about it."
     "Teleporter?"
     "Just fine."
     "Get a lock on the Federation people in Forever 
and bring them up here."
     "WHAT ABOUT THE SECONDPRIZE?"
     "Just let them think we're dead in space."

     "Well, that was easy," Sullivan said, relaxing in the 
command chair.
     "I don't know, Lieutenant," Woodville said, looking over 
the readings on his console.  "Most of the damage appears 
to be superficial."
     "Impossible," Prescott said.  "We hit them with half 
of the arsenal."
     "I could be reading the sensors wrong, I guess, 
but I really think that they're okay out there."
     "What do you think, Emily?" Carr asked.  Sullivan 
thought for a few moments.
     "Back us off a bit, but stay in weapons range.  If 
they so much as twitch, blast them."
     "So we just sit here," Carr said.
     "Hey, as long as they aren't doing anything to stop 
the captain, I'm content to leave them alone over there."

     "Nobody's beaming us out of here," Commander Baird 
said, as he activated the interference field.  
     "Great.  Back to the universal upheaval at hand," 
Rydell said as he turned his attention back to Forever.
     "THREE MINUTES TO UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."
     "Captain, if you've got a plan, now's the time," Dillon 
said nervously.
     "Forever, are you sure you can't stop this?" Rydell 
asked.
     "WHY WOULD I WANT TO DO THAT?"
     "Would it help if I  begged?"
     "NO."
     "Couldn't you just wait until we've had time to 
tell our families?" Hawkins asked.
     "THAT WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE."
     "Excellent work, Lieutenant," Jaroch said.
     "TWO MINUTES, FORTY-FIVE SECONDS 
TO UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."
     "Why the f*** aren't you waiting?" Baird screamed.
     "NO TIME PERIOD HAS BEEN SPECIFIED."
     "How about forever?" Dillon said.
     "WHAT ABOUT ME?"
     "You're going to have to be more specific, I 
think," Rydell said.
     "Can you wait for 20 billion years?" Jaroch 
asked.
     "YOU WON'T BE ALIVE TO ENJOY IT IF 
I DO THAT."
     "That is the general idea," Jaroch said.

     Morticent slammed her fist down angrily on her 
command chair at the news from her flight officer.
     "What do you mean we can't teleport them?!"
     "I TOLD YOU YOU WERE TOO COCKY."
     "Shut up!!!  Energize all rear weapon systems and 
fire!"

     "Uh, Lieutenant, I'm reading an energy surge on 
the alien vessel."
     "That's a twitch," Sullivan said.
     "Firing," Prescott said.  The Secondprize weapons 
streaked ahead just as several blasts lanced out of the 
Mitgogae.  The Mitgogae weapons detonated the 
Secondprize's quantum torpedoes and kept right on 
coming at the Secondprize itself.
     "Full reverse," Sullivan said.
     "Too late," Carr said.  The ship rocked violently 
from the impacts.  Lights flickered around the bridge 
as systems blinked on and off.
     "That was not good," Prescott said.  "Shields down 
30%."
     "So much for that," Sullivan muttered.  "Keep us 
away from them as much as you can, Carr."  She turned 
toward Prescott.  "And if you get an open shot, take it."

     "We really have to pick something in our lifetimes," 
Dillon whined.
     "Looks that way," Rydell replied.
     "Talk about delaying the inevitable," Hawkins quipped.
     "That was not funny, Lieutenant," Jaroch said.
     "TWO MINUTES TO UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."
     "We're running out of time here," Hawkins said.
     "No sh**," Baird said.
     "We can't just randomly pick a number," Dillon said.  
"The lives of...well, everybody are at stake here."
     "Jaroch," Rydell said, hoping for some intelligent 
guidance.
     "The situation would seem to call for to highest number 
possible, so that the greatest number of us are already 
dead when the universe ends."
     "So, your idea is just for most of us not to be alive when 
it happens."
     "I am afraid so, sir.  May I recommend 100 years.  That 
should be just on the outside of my life span, and I have 
always wanted to go out with a bang."
     "As much as I appreciate your sacrifice and gallows 
humor, I can't allow that," Rydell said.  "There's got to be 
some loophole we're missing.  Some way to stop this."
     "Let me check," Jaroch said.  "Guardian, is there a 
loophole we're missing here?"
     "NOPE."
     "Thank you."
     "YOU'RE WELCOME.  OH, BY THE WAY, ONE 
MINUTE FIFTEEN SECONDS UNTIL UNIVERSAL 
ANNIHILATION."
     "I so love these irregular updates," Rydell said.
     "Time's almost up," Hawkins said.  "Literally."  
     "F*** it!  What about ten years?" Baird said.
     "THAT WOULD BE ACCEPTABLE."
     "Ten years!" Rydell shouted.  "Baird!"
     "Sorry, it's the first thing that came to mind!"

     "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind, Ensign," 
Sullivan said, gripping tightly to her chair as the 
Secondprize made another tight loop around the moon.  
She could almost hear the inertial dampeners screaming 
as they struggled to compensate.
     "It's working, isn't it?" Carr snapped.
     "This is worse than that Kirk's Careening Career 
ride at FedWorld!" Woodville said, trying to control his 
nausea.
     Sullivan watched the tactical display on the viewscreen 
as the two ships went around and around Forever's moon.  
She had to hand it to Carr; there was no way Morticent 
was going to get a clear shot at them this way.

     Morticent closed her eyes and tried to pretend that her 
world wasn't spinning.  As it was, she'd already covered 
Guardian #492 with today's lunch.
     "They're reacting too quickly every time I change 
speed," the flight officer said, irritated.  "I can't hit them."
     "They can't keep this up forever," Morticent said.  "We 
will catch them."
     "OR THE UNIVERSE WILL END," Guardian #492 said.
     "At this point, I wouldn't mind," Morticent replied.
     "CAN I GET A TOWEL?"

     "UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION WILL BE PUT ON 
HOLD FOR TEN YEARS."
     "At least I stopped it!" Baird said.
     "ONE MINUTE UNTIL UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."
     "What?" Rydell, Dillon, Baird, Hawkins, and Jaroch 
shouted.
     "PLEASE CHOOSE AN ACCESS CODE TO 
INITIATE HOLD SEQUENCE."
     "Just do it!" they all screamed.
     "...you f***ing rock," Baird added.
     "CODE SELECTED.  SHUTTING DOWN."
     "Wait!  What do we do now?" Rydell said.
     "COME BACK IN 10 YEARS.  YOUR ACCESS CODE 
IS..."  Forever then played back the five Secondprize 
crewmembers screaming "Just do it!" and Baird's "you 
f***ing rock."
     "Does that mean we have to all have to say that in unison 
again?" Hawkins asked.
     "AFRAID SO.  GOODBYE TILL LATER."
     "What does the access code do?" Dillon asked.  There 
was no response.  Jaroch scanned the cavern with his tricorder.
     "I believe he has shut down," Jaroch reported.
     "I guess that's a good thing," Rydell said.  "We're safe 
anyway."
     "Temporarily," Hawkins said.
     "TWO SECONDS UNTIL UNIVERSAL 
ANNIHILATION."
     "F***!!!" Baird screamed as everyone dove to the 
cavern floor for something resembling cover...not that 
it would help if the universe was being destroyed.
     "JUST KIDDING.  I'M REALLY SHUTTING 
DOWN THIS TIME.  BYE BYE."
     "I hate that f***ing thing," Baird muttered.
     "I concur," Jaroch said.

     "IT'S OVER," Guardian #492 said simply.
     "What?" Morticent demanded.  The Mitgogae was 
still racing around and around the moon trying to blast 
the Secondprize.
     "UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION HAS BEEN 
AVERTED."
     "But the time streams showed Rydell destroying 
the universe," Morticent said.  "What went wrong?"
     "WE MONITOR ALL OF THE MANY POSSIBLE 
OUTCOMES."
     "We're safe.  Great.  I went through all this for 
nothing."
     "NOT NOTHING.  UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION 
WILL COMMENCE IN 10 STANDARD EARTH 
YEARS."
     "Damn that Rydell!  I'll kill him!  I'll remove every 
bone in his body with a shrimp fork.  I'll..."
     "YOU WILL DO NOTHING.  HE IS THE ONLY 
ONE WHO CAN STOP THE DESTRUCTION."
     "What do I do now?"
     "ENJOY YOURSELF FOR TEN YEARS AND 
HOPE THAT HE IS SUCCESSFUL IN STOPPING 
UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION THEN."
     "Basically you're telling me I've got ten years to live."
     "YES.  MOST LIKELY."
     "Get us out of here.  Time's a wasting, and I've got 
a lot of living to do.  Set course for the Lindus IV Luxury 
Resort.  Maximum warp."
     "Yes, ma'am," the flight officer said, pulling the 
Mitgogae away from Forever.
     "And somebody get some booze up here!"

     "They're retreating!" Prescott said.
     "From what?" Sullivan said.  "Did they just get too 
dizzy?"
     "Unknown."
     "I wasn't being serious.  Open a channel to the captain."
     "Aye."
     "Rydell here," the captain's voice said over the comm 
system.  "We're ready for beam out."
     "So I take it we're not all about to become crispy critters."
     "Not today," Rydell replied.  "But I wouldn't make any 
long term plans."
     "Sir?"
     "I'll explain later.  Beam us up."

     "IT HAS BEEN AVERTED," the voice in Trinian's 
mind boomed.  Trinian jolted awake, fighting to free 
herself from the drunken stupor she'd sunk into. 
     "HELLO?"
     "Turn it down!" she screamed.
     "WHAT?"
     "You're too damn loud," Trinian thought back 
angrily.  "Can't you see I'm drunk here?  The universe 
is about to end."
     "NOT ANYMORE.  THE SECONDPRIZE FIVE 
WERE SUCCESSFUL."
     "Secondprize five?  What the hell are you babbling 
about?"
     "YOU MAKE IT VERY HARD FOR ME TO SPEAK 
IN COOL CRYPTIC PHRASES."
     "Forget the evasive crap and tell me what's going on."
     "RYDELL AND FOUR OTHERS POSTPONED 
ANNIHILATION."
     "Postponed!  For how long?"
     "TEN STANDARD EARTH YEARS."
     "Goody."  Trinian took another drink.
     "ARE YOU PLANNING ON STAYING DRUNK 
UNTIL THEN?"
     "If I'm lucky."

     Dillon, Jaroch, Hawkins, Sullivan, and Baird had 
gathered in the conference room as Captain Rydell had 
requested.  As usual, he was running late.  The mood in 
the room was decidedly somber considering that they now 
knew the exact date everything was going to end.  The only 
one remotely cheerful was Commander Baird, who now 
had the perfect counter-argument to Sullivan's occasional 
hints that she wanted to have kids.
     "Fun looking group," Rydell said as he finally entered 
the room.
     "Would you prefer that we broke out in song?" Jaroch 
said.
     "Probably not, but it'd be good for a laugh.  I just can't 
imagine you singing," Rydell said.
     "Your loss.  I have an excellent voice," Jaroch said.
     "Are we getting court-martialed or what?" Dillon 
demanded, unable to take the suspense anymore.
     "No," Rydell replied.  "Starfleet would have preferred 
a bit more time to deal with the problem, but, otherwise, 
we're off the hook."
     "Thank the great bird," Dillon said, sinking back 
into his seat.
     "You and your f***ing career," Baird snapped.  "It 
ain't going to matter in ten years when we're all space dust."
     "Calm down, Commander," Rydell said.  "Starfleet 
assures me that this is now first priority.  The top minds 
in the Federation will be working on it."
     "Who?" Jaroch asked.
     "Top minds," Rydell said.  "Don't worry.  Starfleet 
will have this all fixed long before the ten years are up.

                                 

TEN YEARS LATER

CHAPTER ONE
	"Bureaucracy and Other Threats to the Universe"

     Admiral Lisa Beck looked around her empty office 
deciding how she should decorate.   Most of her belongings were 
still en route to Earth from Waystation, so brightening up 
the place would have to wait for a bit.  Normally, this 
wouldn't even be a concern, but, so far, her first day on the
job after her promotion to admiral had been incredibly boring.  
Basically, no one seemed to know exactly what her duties were.  
She had an attache, but he was just sitting out at his desk playing
Conquest of the Cosmos over subspace with the operations 
officer at Starbase 26.  So, after trying to make work for 
herself for a couple of hours, Beck had settled in to her desk 
chair and started figuring out how she wanted the place.
     "I wonder if they'd let me paint," she muttered to herself 
as she considered the neutral white walls.
     "Admiral Morrison to see you, ma'am."  Her attache's 
voice over the comm system destroyed the quiet of her office.
     "Send him in, Keenan."
     Beck stood up and straightened her uniform, trying to 
look as admiral-like as possible.   Fleet Admiral Dick Morrison 
wandered in a few seconds later carrying a padd.  His eyes slowly
took in the room, coming to rest for a few seconds here and 
there, then finally settling on Beck.
     "Good morning, sir," Beck said after a few moments 
of uncomfortable silence.
     "Morning.  How is everything?"
     "Fine.  Fine.  Just getting adjusted."  Morrison looked 
at her a bit longer as if waiting for something more from 
her answer.
     "Well, I need to pull you away from whatever you're doing 
for a bit."
     "Really?" Beck said a little too enthusiastically.  Perhaps 
the boredom was about to end.
     "The computer spat this out this morning," Morrison 
said, gesturing with the padd.  "It's a decade old, but there 
was a flag on it to alert someone on this date."
     "Ten years later?" Beck asked.
     "Looks like it.  Although, judging by the content of 
the material, I wish they'd let us know sooner.  Anyway, 
since it involves some former colleagues of yours, I thought 
I'd let you handle it."
     "I'll do my best, sir," Beck said, taking the padd from 
Morrison.
     "No doubt.  Hopefully, it won't be too much trouble.  
Send me a report when you've taken care of the situation." 
     Beck sat back down at her desk and started reading the 
information on the padd.  It was a transcript of Captain 
Rydell's reports concerning an entity known as Forever...and 
the possible destruction of the universe.
     "Is this correct, sir?" Beck stammered.
     "Afraid so.  I have faith in you, though."
     "What kind of resources can you give me?" Beck 
asked.  Morrison was quiet for a moment as he 
formulated his response."
     "Ah...see, there's the tricky part.  We'd prefer that 
you handled this quietly.  Avoid subspace communication.  
The usual.  No need to cause a panic."
     "How quietly?" Beck said, not liking the sound of this.
     "Just you, the Secondprize crewmembers involved, 
and a scientist.  I took the liberty of informing Commander 
Porter in the Sciences Division to expect a call from you.  
You two were on Waystation together a while back, weren't 
you?"
     "Until about three years ago when he got sent to Sciences 
Division."
     "Great.  Then you already have a working relationship.  
I'll let you get to work then."
     Morrison headed back towards the door at his usual 
leisurely pace.  "Glad to see things are going well.  So 
long."
     "But, sir.  What about a ship?" Beck said.
     "The Secondprize will meet you at the Deneria Cluster," 
Morrison said as he walked out of the office.  Beck couldn't 
help marveling that this man could ever have made it in 
Starfleet.  He just seemed too...laid back.  More like on 
tranquilizers.

     "Let me get this straight," Commander Craig Porter, 
the head of Starfleet Sciences' temporal physics department, 
said.  "The universe is going to end in two weeks?"
     "According to the report," Beck said as she talked to 
Porter's holographic image that was being projected into 
her office.
     "And the Secondprize is responsible."
     "Yep."
     "That is just so them."
     "Tell me about it."
     "The computer just came back with the info.    Forever, 
as near as Jaroch was able to ascertain, is a focal point of 
chronometric energy.  He believes that the Guardian of 
Forever the Federation knows about is somehow linked to 
it.  Anyway, Forever started a countdown to destroy the 
universe that Rydell and the others stopped at the last 
moment.  And only they can enter the access code to 
talk to Forever."
     "So, we'll just get Jaroch there and..."
     "No.  It has to be all five of them."
     "Oh hell.  This ain't going to be easy."
     "Hell of a first day on the job, huh?"
     "This is no time for sarcasm, Craig."
     "Seems perfect to me.  I just love imminent doom."
     "How the hell did this slip by?" Beck asked.
     "Whoever filed the report must have decided it 
could wait," Porter replied.  "That's bureaucracy for you."
     "Don't remind me."
     "Well, Lisa, the ball's in your court.  What are you 
going to do?"
     "First off, you're going to Forever."
     "Great.  I'll alert my team."
     "No team.  Just you.  We're under orders to 
keep this quiet."
     "Oh goody," Porter said joylessly.  "An all-expense 
paid vacation, and I can't even take anyone.  I just love 
all this crap."
     "Sorry, but this comes from way over my head.  
Just see if Forever's really a threat and if you can get 
access to it.  Don't do anything too risky."
     "No ma'am.  Relaxation all the way.  I'm packing 
my swim trunks and sunscreen now.  What about you?"
     "What else can I do?  I'm going to have to find 
Rydell and the others."
     "Suddenly it looks like I got the better end of this 
deal.  Good luck, Admiral."
     "Same to you, Craig.  And be careful.  You'll be 
alone with that thing until we can get there."
     Beck switched off the holographic projection unit 
and leaned back in her chair, trying to relax.  She found 
it amazing how quickly life could put things in perspective 
for you.  Five minutes ago, she was ready to paint the 
office lavender.  Now, it just didn't seem that important.

                                

CHAPTER TWO
	"Mandatory Un-Retirement"

     Alexander Rydell had to admit that the stars really 
were beautiful tonight.  They just seemed to be twinkling 
especially brightly this evening.  And the reds and blues 
of the gasses of the nearby Ceranos Nebula also seemed 
more vibrant than usual.  He lay back on the grass, 
resting his head in his hands.  Up here, on the highest 
hill overlooking The Suburb Cottages and Spa, was 
about the only place on the entire planetoid Rydell 
could be alone with space.
     "You're wishing you were still up there again," a 
female voice said from behind him.  Karina Durham, 
Rydell's wife and business partner, sat down next to him 
in the grass.
     "Not even close," Rydell said.  "What brings you 
up to my little sanctum sanctorum?"
     "Prince Jefoz in Cottage 6 wants to see about renting 
out the entire Suburb for his son's wedding next year.  
Problem is we're already booked up for the weekend he 
wants."
     "I swear command was easier than this."
     "I knew you were thinking about it."
     "I left Starfleet with no regrets.  I'd boldly gone 
about as far as I wanted to go."
     "Can't say that I was disappointed.  The smuggling 
business was getting a bit old, too."
     "Sure it wasn't that death warrant the Fresielians 
put out on you?" Rydell said.
     "You handled that matter for me, though.  With 
considerable tact and diplomacy, I might add," Karina 
said.
     "Hey, I was just glad to run into you again."
     "And now look what's happened," Karina said, 
kissing Rydell softly.  "You're stuck with me."
     "Not exactly the word I'd choose, but I'm more 
than happy with the turn of events."  He returned the 
kiss, then added a few more for good measure.  Soon, 
as is bound to happen in such exchanges, the situation 
quickly escalated.

     The next morning, Rydell entered the control room 
of the Suburb ready to face another day in the harrowing 
world of resort management.
     "Status report," he said as soon as he walked through 
the door.
     "The chlorination problem with the swimming pool 
has been stabilized," Rydell's assistant, Uhydel, reported.  
"We are expecting 24 check-outs and 17 check-ins today.  
That meteor swarm we've been monitoring should miss us 
by a good hundred thousand kilometers."
     "Good.  Good.  Sounds like everything's under control."
     "One more thing, sir.  There's an Admiral Beck waiting 
for you in your office.  She arrived in a Starfleet race-about 
this morning."
     Rydell couldn't help the large smile spreading across his 
face.
     "Old friend, I take it," Uhydel said.
     "Yes, indeedy."
     Rydell almost ran the rest of the way to his office.  
Beck was inside admiring the various holographs hanging 
on the walls and resting on his desk.
     "So it's admiral now, huh?" Rydell said, as he entered.  
"Who's idea was that?"
     "Mine, I'm afraid," Beck replied, turning to face Rydell.  
"Just started two days ago, and I've spent just about all of 
my time on a ship trying to come see you."
     "Don't tell me you need command advice again."
     "Are you ever going to give me a hug?  Or am I just 
going to have to come grab you?"
     "I like the sound of that last one," Rydell said.  He 
wrapped his arms around Beck and hugged her tightly.  
"Damn, it's good to see you."
     "You too, sir."  Beck said, pulling him closer.  
     "Would you please stop calling me that?" Rydell 
said, finally releasing the hug.  "I'm retired, and you'd 
outrank me anyway."
     "You're looking pretty good for an old retired guy."
     "Yeah, I guess I'm still pretty spry for a 46-year-old.  
But it's not much of a retirement.  This place keeps me 
plenty busy."
     "I'd imagine.  From everything I've been hearing, 
you've got a nice little set up here."
     "We've certainly tried."
     "Oh yeah.  How is Karina?"
     "Fine.  Just fine.  She really seems to have found 
her calling."
     "That's good.  I wasn't sure at the wedding if she'd 
be happy away from her smuggling and border-hopping 
and law breaking and..."
     "I get the idea, Lisa."
     "Sorry.  I'm really glad everything's worked out, 
though."
     "Eight years and still going strong.  But enough about 
me.  What brings a powerful Starfleet official like yourself 
out to my establishment?  I'm getting the feeling it's not 
for a vacation."
     "I wish it was," Beck said.  She picked up the padd 
she brought with her off of Rydell's desk and handed it to 
him.  "Our computers just alerted us to this situation.  Judging 
from the data, though, you're the only one who can stop it."
     Rydell read through the report with growing disbelief.  
Starfleet hadn't done a damn thing.  They hadn't even set up 
one of those "Keep the Hell Away from Here!!!" buoys in orbit 
around Forever.
     "They were supposed to fix this!" Rydell exclaimed.
     "Bureaucratic oversight," Beck replied.  "As soon as 
I find out who, I'm personally going to kill him."
     "If there's anything or anyone left," Rydell said.
     "I've already got Craig Porter on his way to Forever 
to gather data on the situation.  You and I are heading to 
the fleet-yards in the Deneria Cluster to start assembling 
the rest of the team."
     "Team?  Oh god, it's going to take all five of us, isn't it?"
     "That's what your report suggests.  Scott Baird and 
Jaroch will be at Deneria.  We're still trying to locate 
Patricia Hawkins.  And Commander Dillon...is being 
seen to."
     "I don't like the sound of that."
     "I'll fill you in when we get there.  Starfleet's been 
keeping it on a need to know basis.  Come on.  I've got 
the ship waiting."
     "Hold on a second, Lisa.  I've got a life here.  I can't 
just go running off.  Surely you guys can just fake my voice 
or something for the access code.  After that, you don't need 
me.  I don't do that stuff anymore.  I'm a businessman."
     "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Alex, but under 
regulation 564, subparagraph C, I'm reactivating your 
commission.  Your orders are to do whatever you have 
to do to save the universe."
     "Jesus!  No pressure or anything."
     "I'd love to be able to take care of this myself without 
disturbing anybody, but the stakes are too big," Beck said.  
"We're talking about the end of everything.  You have to do 
this."
     "Just when I thought my universe saving days were over," 
Rydell said, resigned to his fate.  "Let me talk to Karina and 
grab a couple of things.  I'll contact you shortly."
     "Good enough.  Welcome back."
     "Yeah.  Yeah."
     Beck tapped her thumb and forefinger together, 
activating the sub-dermal communicator.  "Beck to 
Columbia.  Energize."  She vanished in a streak of 
energy as Rydell collapsed into his desk chair.  His 
door chime sounded a few seconds later, and Karina 
poked her head into the office.
     "Uhydel told me you had a visitor," she said.
     "Remember that old saying, 'Be careful what you 
wish for..."
     "Starfleet wants you back?"
     "Not permanently, I hope.  Just one more mission."
     "This could be just the thing for you.  Let you get 
Starfleet fully out of your system.  What sort of mission 
is it?"
     "You don't want to know."
     "Alex, I'm your wife.  I want to know."
     "Unless I can fix a mistake my crew and I made 
ten years ago, the universe is going to end in less than 
two weeks."
     Karina stared at him, dumbfounded.
     "You aren't serious," she said finally.
     Rydell just nodded.  
     "F***!!!"
     "Yeah.  That's about the size of it."
     "Get going then!  Move!" Karina shouted.
     "You don't mind me leaving then?"
     "No!  And don't come back unless you saved us."
     "That shouldn't be a problem," Rydell said humorlessly 
as he got up from his desk.  He headed for the door, but 
stopped just before he got there.  "I want you to know that 
I didn't do this on purpose.  I had no idea..."
     "I don't care," Karina said. "It's not like you cheated 
on me or something."
     "Mental note.  Adultery is worse than galactic 
destruction."
     "Would you just go?" Karina said, wrapping her 
arms around him.  "And be careful."
     "I will," Rydell said. He kissed her.  "I love you."
     "I love you, too....but there's going to be a real strain 
on our marriage if you kill everyone."




CHAPTER THREE
	"Time to Reflect"

     Commander Porter was blasted awake by the 
clang of someone pounding on his door.  He groggily 
rolled out of bed and stumbled over to the door of his 
cabin...if the room could really be called that.  The 
freighter Starfleet had conned into taking Porter to 
Forever was not equipped for passengers.  The crew 
had cleaned out an old refrigerated compartment that 
was once used for transporting real meat to Klingon 
out-colonies.  The smell still lingered a bit, but the 
mattress the crew had found for him was comfortable 
enough.
     The pounding started again just as Porter reached 
the door and threw it open. 
     "What?" Porter demanded angrily.  The eight-foot 
tall Jsinzi trader just stared down at him; an amused 
grin spread across both of his mouths.
     "Time to go."
     Porter looked over at the chronometer by his bunk.
     "It's three hundred hours."
     "We're here.  Time for you to go...now!"
     "All right.  All right."  Porter pulled together his 
belongings as quickly as he could and followed the 
Jsinzi out into the corridor.
     "What about my equipment?" Porter asked.
     "Already beamed to coordinates.  Now you beam 
to coordinates."
     "Why are you guys in such a hurry?  You scared 
of something?"
     The Jsinzi stopped in his tracks, almost causing 
Porter to step into the back of him.  Then, he turned to 
face the Starfleet officer.
     "This is the space of time demons.  No one comes 
here...cheaply."
     "Time demons?  What the hell..."  Before Porter 
could finish, the Jsinzi grabbed him by the front of his 
uniform and tossed him into their transporter chamber 
where another, equally-friendly-looking Jsinzi waited.
     "Time to go," the new Jsinzi said.
     "I know.  I know.  But you guys are not getting a 
good review in Space Cruises Unlimited."
     The Jsinzi just stared at Porter confused.
     "Great species," Porter muttered as he stepped 
up on the transporter pad.  "Big, ugly, and
no sense of humor." 
     About then, the Jsinzi unceremoniously beamed 
him off their ship and got the hell out of the solar 
system as fast as they could.

     "Personal Log.  Stardate 62004.8.  I would just like 
to lodge a really freakin' huge complaint against Starfleet 
Command, the Federation, and the universe at large for 
putting me in this mess.  Oh sure, send Craig to the boring 
moon.  Trap him inside a few miles of rock with nothing but 
some blipping computers for company.  That's just great.  
Well, this is that last time!  Actually, if we don't figure out 
some way to stop the end of the universe, it will be the last 
time."

     Commander Porter shut off his log recorder and took 
another bite of his dinner.  At least Starfleet had had the 
decency to send a mini-replicator along with him.  Rations 
always made him cranky.
     "How did I get myself into this mess?" he muttered.
     "YOU OBEYED ORDERS," a deep voice boomed 
from all around him.  Suddenly, the dark rocks and 
outcroppings lining the chamber of Forever began to 
sparkle with an eerie glow.  Porter leapt up from his 
seat and activated his scanning equipment.
     "Holy...!  Are you Forever?"
     "I AM.  REACTIVATION SEQUENCE COMPLETE.  
TEN YEAR DORMANCY HAS ENDED.  TEN DAYS 
UNTIL UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."
     "Already?  Can't you hit the snooze button for a few 
millennia or something?"
     "WHERE ARE THE SECONDPRIZE FIVE?"
     "On their way," Porter replied.  "I hope."
     "I'D HATE FOR THEM TO MISS THIS."
     "Yep.  It'd be a sin and a shame."
     "HAS THE UNIVERSE PREPARED ITSELF?"
     "Uh...I'm not sure what you mean."
     "IS YOUR SPECIES READY FOR UNIVERSAL 
ANNIHILATION?"
     "Can't say that we are.  Like I said, check back in a few 
millennia.  Actually, we're kind of slow.  Make it a couple of 
eons." 
     "WHY HAVEN'T YOU PREPARED?"
     "Honestly, I just found out.  Nobody told us."
     "SO YOU'VE JUST BEEN LIVING YOUR LIFE AS 
NORMAL FOR THE LAST TEN YEARS."
     "Afraid so."
     "BUMMER.  MIND IF I ASK YOU A PERSONAL 
QUESTION?"
     "Sure.  Why the hell not?"
     "WOULD YOU HAVE DONE ANYTHING 
DIFFERENTLY IF YOU'D KNOWN?"
     "Yikes.  Tough one."  Porter sat back down on a rock to 
consider.  "I probably wouldn't have worried so much about 
taking extra helpings at meals.  Maybe gotten married.  Had 
kids.  No wait...no kids.  They'd just be blown up.  Nope.  I 
guess I just would have had a lot more meaningless tawdry 
sex."
     "ADMIRABLE.  PEOPLE NEVER TAKE ENOUGH 
TIME FOR PLEASURE.  YOU ONLY GET TO DO THIS 
LIFE THING ONCE, YOU KNOW."
     "Unless you're Yynsian."
     "OH YES.  THOSE REINCARNATED PEOPLE.  
WEIRD BUNCH.  I'LL BE GLAD TO GET RID OF 
THEM.  BUT WHAT ABOUT YOU?"
     "What about me?"
     "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULDN'T DO ANYTHING 
DIFFERENT.  WHAT ABOUT THIS?"
     One of walls of the cavern suddenly started showing 
an image of the operations center of Waystation from 
many years ago...and a much younger Craig Porter.  He 
was working at his console along with another officer.  
Porter immediately recognized her.  Lieutenant Tilleran 
from the Explorer.
     "WHAT ABOUT HER?  SHE WAS QUITE FOND OF 
YOU."
     "We had different postings.  It wouldn't have worked."
     "YOU DIDN'T EVEN TRY.  AND LOOK AT HER 
NOW."
     The image changed to show Tilleran, still looking 
beautiful, but a bit older, playing in a park with two kids.  
A tall, dark-haired man walked up behind her and wrapped 
his arms around her.
     "THAT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU WITH HER."
     "Thanks for telling me."
     "SHAME SHE DOESN'T KNOW THE UNIVERSE 
IS ABOUT TO END."  Forever was quiet for a moment.  
"HEY, YOU WANT TO SEE HER NAKED?"
     "No!!!" Porter shouted.
     "JUST TRYING TO HELP, BUT LET'S MOVE ON."
     "Please."
     "WHAT ABOUT YOUR SHIP DESIGN?  YOU COULD 
HAVE SOLD A MILLION OF THOSE."  The image shifted 
to show Porter's prototype spaceship design he'd spent years
building speeding through the stars.  "IT WAS A GOOD 
DESIGN.  WHAT HAPPENED?"
     "Well..."
     "YOU DIDN'T FOLLOW THROUGH!" Forever snapped, 
cutting him off.  "YOU HAVEN'T FOLLOWED THROUGH 
ON MUCH OF ANYTHING, HAVE YOU?  AND WHEN 
YOU DO, YOU GO THE WRONG WAY.   LIKE THIS 
FOOTBALL GAME..."
     The image changed again to show an 11-year-old Porter 
running down field, trying to avoid a tackle, then getting 
clobbered by two other guys.
     "WHY IN THE COSMOS DID YOU TRY TO DODGE 
RIGHT?  YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE LEFT!  YOUR 
WHOLE LIFE IS JUST A LIST OF ONE BAD CHOICE 
RIGHT AFTER ANOTHER.  NO WONDER YOU'RE 43 
AND STILL ALONE."
     "You think maybe we could speed up this end of the 
universe thing?"



CHAPTER FOUR
"Last One Out Gets Stuck With the Check"

     Morticent let out another tiny moan of pleasure as 
the Loifred masseuse continued working on her back.  So 
far, the Breen Seven Spa and Gardens was turning out to 
be everything the brochure claimed and more.  Morticent 
wondered why she waited so long to come check the
place out.  Of course, she really couldn't regret those months 
in the Pleasure Pools of Heunica Prime.
     "Those seven arms really come in handy in this line 
of work," she mumbled happily. 
     "Yes, ma'am," the Loifred replied.  Using three of his 
arms, he hoisted her body up into the air, while he used 
the other four to work on both the front and back of her 
legs at the same time.
     "Oh gods this is heavenly."
     "NO DOUBT," the voice of Guardian #492 said, 
interrupting her revelry.
     "I didn't hear you come in," Morticent said.  "You're 
getting too good at that."
     "PRACTICE," the Guardian replied as he walked over 
to her.  As soon as she could find someone to do it, Morticent 
had an android body constructed to house the obelisk of 
Guardian #492.  Now, he was a dashing, dark-haired, 
dark-eyed adonis...and a fully-functional one at that.  
The price had been hefty, but Morticent figured that's why 
credit tubes were invented.  Buy now and pay later.  Right 
now, though, Guardian's face looked positively grim.
     "Is there a problem?"
     "OUR TIME IS UP.  FOREVER HAS REACTIVATED, 
AND STARFLEET IS THERE."
     "Rydell?"
     "NOT YET.  THIS ONE IS NOT OF THE SECONDPRIZE 
FIVE."
     "But they'll be there soon enough."
     "WHAT WILL WE DO?"
     "Rydell and the others will try to save the universe.  
What can we do?  We have to stop them."
     "SOME WOULD FIND IT IRONIC THAT TEN YEARS 
AGO WE WERE DETERMINED TO SAVE THE UNIVERSE 
AND NOW WE JUST WANT IT DESTROYED."
     "Yeah, well those people haven't seen my credit card bills.  
Let's get back to the ship."
     "Shall I stop the massage?" the Loifred asked.
     "In a few minutes, beautiful creature.  I need a bit more 
work on my back.  Guardian, honey, get the Mitgogae ready 
to go.  We'll leave as soon as I'm done here.  And send the 
boys to my quarters.  I'm in the mood for a little exercise 
after all this relaxing."
     "WOULD YOU LIKE THEM OILED?"
     "Of course!  What kind of stupid question is that?"
     "MY APOLOGIES.  I WILL SEE YOU BACK ON 
THE SHIP ONCE YOU HAVE FINISHED YOUR 
IMPORTANT BUSINESS."
     "Are you jealous?"
     "THAT IS RIDICULOUS.  I AM INCAPABLE 
OF JEALOUSY.  I SERVE FOREVER."
     "Oh yeah sure.  That's why you're helping destroy 
the universe."
     "I WILL NOT DIGNIFY THAT WITH A RESPONSE."
     "I adore you, too, Guardy," Morticent cooed.  "Give 
me some love."
     Guardian #492 leaned down and kissed her, an action 
he always found extremely pleasant...even if Morticent 
always insisted on thrusting her tongue into his mouth.
     "Oil yourself up too, baby.  You need some relaxation."
     "RETURN QUICKLY," Guardian #492 replied, 
unsuccessfully trying to hide the eagerness in his 
voice, then headed for the door.
     As Guardian #492 left, the Loifred flipped Morticent 
onto her back and started using all seven hands to work 
on her front.
     "You want a new employer?" Morticent asked dreamily.  
"I could let you do this forever...however long that is."

     "Beautiful," Trinian said to herself softly as she finished 
watching the sunrise over the Great Ocean of Galinys Twelve.  
The synchronized sunrise of five separate suns created 
unbelievable light displays in the sky and on the water of 
the planet, and, from her perch on top of Mount Kilodee, 
Trinian had the best seat in the house.  She pulled a padd 
and a thermos out of her pack and poured herself a steaming 
cup of coffee while she scrolled down the contents of the 
padd.
     "Sunrise on Galinys Twelve.  Check."  She marked off 
that item on her list of things to see in the galaxy before it 
ended.  So far, she was well into the "s" range, which wasn't 
bad considering how much stuff there really was to see.
     "ENJOYING YOURSELF?"
     The voice suddenly booming in her mind was the absolute 
last thing Trinian wanted to hear right now.
     "Leave me alone, Guardian Control."
     "I'M AFRAID WE CAN'T DO THAT.  FOREVER HAS 
REACTIVATED."
     "And now the universe is going to end.  I know.  That's 
why I'm here."
     "RYDELL CAN SAVE IT.  YOU MUST HELP HIM."
     "Alex's going?  I thought he was retired."
     "THE SECONDPRIZE FIVE WILL RETURN TO 
FOREVER.  YOU MUST PROTECT THEM."
     "From what?  And isn't Morticent assigned to this now?"
     "WE HAVE LOST CONTACT WITH HER AND 
GUARDIAN #492.  WE FEAR THAT SHE HAS SUFFERED 
A MILD CASE OF CHANGED PRIORITIES."
     "Meaning what exactly?"
     "WELL...SHE AND GUARDIAN #492 MAY BE LESS 
THAN OPPOSED TO UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION."
     "Would you just tell me what's going on?" Trinian 
snapped angrily.
     "THEY'RE GOING TO TRY TO STOP THE 
SECONDPRIZE FIVE.  THEY WANT TO END IT 
ALL.  THEY'VE GONE MAD, I TELL YOU!  
MAD!!!"
     "All right.  All right.  I've got it.  I'll see what I 
can do."
     "GOOD LUCK, TRINIAN.  YOU CAN FIND 
RYDELL IN THE DENERIA CLUSTER."
     "That's light years from here!"
     "HOPEFULLY TRAFFIC WILL BE LIGHT.  
I'LL BE IN TOUCH."
     "So, I'm just supposed to race off and stop Morticent 
on my own?"
     "THAT'S ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT."
     "Goody."

     Morticent strolled languidly through the corridors of 
the improved Mitgogae towards the bridge.  The ship had 
become a streamlined spear of pleasure and pain rocketing 
through the cosmos.  She'd had luxuries like the galaxy 
had never seen installed on board.  There were devices 
that specialized in manicures, pedicures, massages (even 
though Morticent always preferred the hands, tentacles, 
or paws of a living being), and gourmet cuisine that would 
put the finest replicators Starfleet had to shame.  She had 
holodecks stocked with the most relaxing or arousing 
programs the imagination could think of.   
     And Morticent used it all.  She brought beings she 
found intriguing in some way on board, gave them the 
experience of their lives, then dumped the off somewhere 
when she'd grown bored.   Through it all, though, Guardian 
#492 had been there.  He'd never admit to loving her, but 
she was sure that he did, especially once she had a body 
constructed for him.  And despite all of the other beings 
she'd been with in the last 10 years, she was going to 
oblivion with Guardian #492.  If that meant she loved him, 
so be it.
     "I HAVE SET A COURSE FOR FOREVER," Guardian 
#492 reported as Morticent walked onto the bridge.  He sat 
at the lone console on the massive bridge.  Everything else 
had been automated over the years as the crew had either 
been dumped or converted for other uses.  Now, Guardian 
#492 could run the ship from the console, if necessary, 
while Morticent sat in the command chair.  Well, it was 
really more of throne now, with ornately-carved armrests
upholstered in the plushiest fabric she could find.  The 
seat cushion of the same material could be set for various 
massage and heat functions as could the chair back.  
When needed, the whole assembly flipped back and 
transformed into a bed, with addition sections rising out 
of the floor should guests be expected.
     "We aren't going to Forever," Morticent said, easing 
herself into her most wonderful of chairs.  "We've got a 
few errands to run first."
     "SURELY YOU HAVEN'T RUN OUT OF 
KYNELLIAN BON-BONS ALREADY?"
     "That's not the kind of errand I meant," Morticent 
replied.  "We need to recruit some assistance."
     "AGAINST THE SECONDPRIZE FIVE?  WE 
HAVE ONE OF THE MOST POWERFUL VESSELS 
IN THE QUADRANT."
     "I'm not taking any chances.  There's far too much 
at stake.  I don't want there to be any chance that Rydell 
could accidentally go and save the universe.  We're all 
going to die, dammit!  Now look, you've gotten me all 
tense."
     "DO YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE?"
     "You read my mind," Morticent said with a wicked 
grin as she walked up beside Guardian #492 and typed 
in some coordinates. The engines roared to life, snapping 
the ship into warp.  "Why don't we take a little stroll back 
to my chambers and see what you can do to help out your
captain?"
     "IF THAT IS WHAT MY DUTY REQUIRES," Guardian 
#492 replied getting up from his seat.  Moments like this 
made him feel so sorry for the Guardians still stuck as rocks.  
Sure, he used to be jealous of the upper level Guardians that 
could actually access Forever, but they sat as empty rings of 
stone on barren worlds waiting for someone to drop by and 
ask them a question.  Boring! 
     Guardian #492 was mobile.  He was seeing the galaxy.  
He was feeling things the other Guardians could only dream 
of.  Of course, in exchange, he had to destroy the universe, but 
that seemed like such a small price to pay next to ten years 
of hedonism with Morticent.  Screw the cosmos!  He had more 
important people to do.




CHAPTER FIVE
	"Wedded Bliss and Other Universal Improbabilities"

     Rydell and Beck checked the numbers on the cabins of either 
side of the corridor as they moved through the residential area 
of the Deneria Dry Dock facility.  While, conveniently, being
the closest Federation docking facility to the moon of Forever, 
Deneria was also home to Captain Scott Baird, who currently 
served as Supervising Refit and Repair Officer for the dock.  
In effect, he ran the place, but Starfleet had assigned an 
administrator to act as facility commander due to a 
years-old restriction in Baird's file prohibiting him from ever 
being in total command of any Starfleet outpost, ship, or mission.  
While some people might have been upset by this, Baird couldn't 
have cared less.  Let someone else handle the administrative crap; 
his place was on the ships
     At least it usually was.  Right now, the station computer 
was telling Rydell and Beck that he was in his quarters.
     "Think he'll be happy to see us?" Beck asked casually as 
they stopped outside of Cabin H-444.
     "Was he ever happy to see anyone?" Rydell asked.  He 
noticed some writing below the cabin number and squinted 
to read it.  Karina kept telling him that he needed to see 
someone about his eyes, but he'd never gotten around to it.  
Besides, even though Tantalus V had assured him that Dr. 
Rebecca Singer was completely cured when they recommended 
(No ordered.  They had made some vague threats about asking 
Starfleet to annex his planetoid.) that he hire her on as the 
physician for The Suburb, she still gave him the creeps.  Of 
course, considering she'd tried to kill him, Rydell felt his 
attitude was perfectly understandable.
     The writing below the cabin number resolved itself into 
SULLIVAN/BAIRD. 
     "There's a surprise," Rydell muttered.  Hell, Scott Baird 
and Emily Sullivan's entire relationship had been a surprise.  
The fact that they'd gotten married and stayed together for ten
years was down-right shocking.
     "It takes all kinds," Beck said, echoing Rydell's thoughts.  
"Shall we get this over with?"
     "Might as well," Rydell said, straightening his suit.  Even 
though Beck had shanghaied him back into service, at least 
she hadn't made him get back into uniform.  He absolutely 
despised those things.
     Beck pressed the door chime, immediately evoking a 
series of deep roars from inside the cabin.
     "Damn," Beck muttered.  "I knew Emily said his snoring 
was bad, but..."
     The doors opened, cutting her off.  Before she or Rydell 
could react, a giant black monster leapt out of the room, 
tackling Rydell with another demonic blast of sound.  Beck 
tried to grab the thing and pull it off of Rydell, but the beast 
was too strong for her.  Finally, Scott Baird, unshaven and 
dressed in a bathrobe, strolled casually out of the cabin, grabbed 
the furry hell-spawn by its hind legs, and dragged it back into 
his quarters.  
     "You coming or not?" he shouted back at Beck and Rydell.  
Beck helped Rydell, who was now practically drenched in the 
saliva of the beast, up, and the two of them entered the cabin.
Baird himself had gone to the back, presumably to close up 
the four-legged horror in the back leaving Rydell and Beck 
to survey their surroundings.  Despite Baird's initial appearance, 
he was actually the messiest thing about the quarters.  The living 
room was decorated simply except for the intricate metal 
sculptures that sat in various corners, and the giant metallic 
castle that hung on the far wall of the room.
     "Dang mutt," Baird grumbled, re-emerging for the back 
hallway of the cabin.  He looked at Rydell and Beck, taking in 
who they were for the first time.  "This doesn't look like a social
visit.  I'm not going to be happy about this, am I?" he said simply.
     "Probably not," Rydell said, extending his hand to Baird, 
who shook it unenthusiastically.  Baird and Beck simply 
exchanged a nod of recognition.
     "Figures," Baird said, slumping down on the sofa and 
waving Rydell and Beck to the two armchairs opposite it.
     "Who was at the door?" Emily Sullivan's voice called from 
the back.  Moments later, she walked into the living room, 
straightening the pips on her uniform.
     "Captain Sullivan, I presume," Rydell said, standing up 
and smiling.
     "Oh my God!" Sullivan exclaimed happily, racing over to 
Beck and Rydell, each of whom she hugged in turn.
     "Them," Baird muttered.
     "What are you two doing here?" Sullivan said.
     "I'm afraid we're going to have to borrow Scott," Beck 
said.  "Official business."
     "Official business you can't tell me about?" Sullivan 
said, turning serious.
     "Afraid not, Emily," Rydell said.
     "They pulled you out of retirement, didn't they?" Sullivan 
said, coming to understand the import of what was happening.
     "Mister Rydell is not at liberty to discuss that," Beck said.  
"Please don't push me on this, Emily."  
     Sullivan looked between Rydell and Beck, then turned to 
her husband.  "You'd better get my ship finished."
     "Whatever," Baird said.  Another unearthly roar emanated 
from down the hallway.
     "What is that thing?" Rydell asked.
     "Compromise," Sullivan said.  Rydell and Beck looked 
at her confused.  "I wanted kids; he didn't.  So we got a dog."
     "And he's named Compromise?" Beck asked.
     "Cute, huh?" Baird said disdainfully.
     "Well, I need to see how the repairs are going.  You guys 
can talk about your secret stuff until I get back," Sullivan said.
     "You wouldn't even be here if you hadn't hit that comet," Baird 
said. 
     "But if I didn't hit things, how would I come back to see 
you, sweetums," Sullivan replied playfully, then planted a kiss 
on his forehead.  "I'll see you later."
     "Absolutely," Baird said, pulling her in for a kiss on the 
lips.  Sullivan, finishing the kiss, straightened her uniform 
again and headed for the door.  
     "If you're still here later, we should have dinner."
     "That'd be great," Beck said.  "Jaroch should be here by 
then."
     "Jaroch too?  What's this?  A reunion, and I wasn't invited?"
     "Emily," Rydell said.
     "I know.  I know.  Just be careful with him," she said.
     "We will.  I promise," Rydell replied as Sullivan left.
     "So what's this about?" Baird said, once Sullivan had 
left.  Beck and Rydell retook their seats and explained the 
situation.  During the course of it, Baird sat up, his eyes 
widening with alarm.  Once Rydell and Beck finished, Baird 
struggled for words.  He almost seemed to be going into a 
seizure as he tried to form the syllables.
     "Fu...fu...he...sh...crap!  I thought they were supposed to 
fix that?"
     "Are you all right?" Rydell asked.
     "Yeah.  It's this da...darn filter," Baird said.  "Starfleet 
made me put one in or else they wouldn't give me the position 
here."
     "You wanted it that badly?"
     "Fu...Yes!" Baird said, fury evident on his face.  "But 
I can't stand not being able to talk normally.  Bunch of 
bulls....cowdung...if you ask me."
     "It does take away a bit of your charm," Beck said.
     "No kidding.  So what are we doing about this 
Forever situation?"
     "What else can we do?" Rydell said.  "We're going to 
get the team that initially went down there together and see 
if we can stop it."
     "All of us?" Baird asked, concerned.
     "Yeah," Rydell replied confused.  "Why wouldn't we?"
     "Even Dillon?" Baird said.  Beck shot him a warning 
glance that Rydell missed.
     "Of course," Rydell replied.  "He may have been a bit of 
a dork, but he was there."  Baird and Beck exchanged glances.  
"Is there something you aren't telling me?"  Beck and Baird 
shifted in an uncomfortable silence.
     "Spacedock Control to Admiral Beck," a voice broke 
in suddenly over the comm system. 
     "Beck here," she said, obviously relieved.
     "The Secondprize is preparing to dock."
     "Thank you.  Beck out.  Go get dressed, Captain," 
Beck said to Baird.  "We'll meet you at the airlock."

     "Would you like to tell me what that was about?" Rydell 
said as he and Beck headed towards the turbolift down the 
corridor outside of Baird's cabin.
     "Not really," Beck said as she stepped into the lift followed 
by Rydell.  "Deck Nineteen."  The turbolift smoothly eased upwards.
     "Is this some more classified crap?" Rydell demanded testily.
     "Dillon is...on assignment," Beck said.  "I can't tell you any 
more right now."
     "Oh don't tell me someone made him Starfleet Intelligence."
     "I really can't talk about it right now," Beck said.  The 
turbolift slowed to a halt, and the doors opened revealing 
a vast set of windows looking out into the dry dock facility.  
The windows had to be three stories high, providing a fantastic 
view of the various ships gathered there for repairs and refits.  
     On the far side of the dock, Rydell could see the giant space 
doors slowly open, allowing a view of the stars beyond.  Then, 
a familiar ship silhouette filled the space, a thick saucer sitting on
a squat hull.  Two long nacelles stretching back into the void 
beyond.  Even though they were years behind state of the art, 
Rydell still felt the Excelsior class starship was one of the most
beautiful designs Starfleet had ever come up with.
     Rydell didn't need to squint to see what name was painted on 
the saucer.  He'd spent too many years on board for it to be 
anything other than the Secondprize. 
     "She looks great," he said softly.
     "Oldest ship still in active use," Beck said.  "No matter what 
people may have said about your methods, or Jaroch's for that 
matter, you two have kept her in one piece."
     The Secondprize, operating on maneuvering thrusters only, 
pulled into a docking slot near the observation room Beck and 
Rydell were in.  Beck was about to suggest that they go meet the
ship, but Rydell was already halfway out the door.  He looked 
back at her, his eyes sparkling happily as his mouth spread 
into an uncontrollable grin.
     "Guess I missed her more than I thought," he said with a 
chuckle.
     "Not a problem," Beck said, returning the smile as she 
caught up with him.


CHAPTER SIX
	"Dinner of the Darned"

     The ensign who opened the Secondprize airlock looked 
like she'd just gotten out of bed.   Her uniform was a wrinkled 
mess, and her hair was standing up in directions Rydell was 
pretty sure were a physical impossibility.  She was in the 
midst of stifling a yawn when her eyes locked on Beck's 
admiral's uniform and widened in terror.
     "Surprise inspection!" she screamed, running off down the 
corridor as if the Devil himself were after her.
     Beck couldn't help laughing.  "I think I pulled that same 
maneuver a few weeks after I came on board."
     "You learned quick," Rydell replied, looking around.  The 
ship had obviously been through at least one major refit in the 
eight years since he'd last been on board.  The hallways
were newer, sleeker, with shiny black computer interface 
panels lining the walls.  The lighting, though, was as bright 
and cheery and ever.  It was nice to see that the Secondprize 
hadn't given in to Starfleet's moody lighting phase.
     Beck grabbed a passing lieutenant who seemed spectacularly 
unconcerned by her presence or her rank.  "Inform Captain 
Jaroch that he has guests," she ordered.
     "Sure," the lieutenant replied snidely.  "You want me 
to pick you up some lunch while I'm at it.  Maybe do your 
nails.  Jeeze.  Some people."  He stormed off, but Beck didn't 
hear him contact the bridge and tell Jaroch about his impending 
visitors.
     "Jaroch seems to be carrying on the high standards on crew 
conduct you established," Beck said.
     "Why mess with what works?" Rydell said as they entered a 
turbolift.  "Bridge."
     "You do not have access to that level," the computer voice 
replied flatly.
     "Ouch," Rydell muttered.
     "Sorry about that," Beck said.  "But you're the one who decided 
to go civilian.  Bridge."  The lift immediately rocketed upwards, 
soon stopping at the nerve center of the ship.  
     As the doors opened, Rydell and Beck were surprised to find 
the room dark except for the glow of the consoles.
     "Hello?" Beck said as she and Rydell stepped tentatively out 
of the turbolift.  Voices suddenly filled the air.

          For she's a jolly good admiral,
          For she's a jolly good admiral,
          For she's a jolly good admiral!
          Which nobody can deny!

     The lights flicked on and seven officers jumped out from 
behind chairs and consoles shouting, "SURPRISE!"
     "Uh...thanks," Beck said.  "But you're supposed to surprise 
me, then sing."
     "I wanted to do the song first," a dark-haired woman said, 
stepping to the head of the group.  Rydell suddenly realized that 
this was Andrea Carr.  She'd cut her hair short, and she was
a bit older, but it was her.  She now had the pips of a commander 
on her collar.  Andrea had done well for herself.  When Rydell retired, 
she'd only been a lieutenant for about a year and a half.
     Carr seemed to recognize Rydell about the same time as 
he'd gathered her identity.   "Captain!" she exclaimed, rushing 
over to hug him.  "Wow!  I've missed you!"
     "I've missed you too, Andrea," Rydell replied.  Damn, this 
woman could almost hug as tightly as Counselor Webber.
     "I didn't know you were coming, or I would have had a song 
ready for you as well."
     "Your presence is a surprise," a familiar male voice said.  
Jaroch had just entered the bridge from his ready room.  Rydell 
didn't think he'd aged a bit.  "But not an unpleasant one." 
Jaroch turned to Admiral Beck.  "I apologize for your welcome, 
Admiral, but my first officer thought it would be...nice."
     "It was great, Jaroch.  Really," Beck replied.
     Rydell gaped at Carr.  "You're the first officer?"
     "Yes, sir," Carr replied, straightening to attention.
     "And a very competent one at that," Jaroch replied.  "We 
make an excellent team."
     "Thank you, sir," Carr said, almost blushing.  In fact, 
she'd only been first officer for about six months.  In the 
eight years between the time Rydell retired and Carr was 
appointed to the position, Starfleet had tried out nineteen 
other first officers on the Secondprize.  All of them had left 
after a short stay.  Jaroch had tried to explain to Starfleet 
that the Secondprize was a unique environment, and, therefore, 
they should promote someone from the Secondprize crew to
the job.  Starfleet, however, didn't believe that a starship 
could or should be a unique environment, so they kept 
bringing in poor saps from other ships.  Eight years and one 
extended visit from an admiral that ended with her commitment 
to Tantalus V convinced Starfleet to take Jaroch's advice.
     "Am I to assume that our summons here is due to more than 
social reasons?" Jaroch asked.
     "Afraid so," Beck said.  Rydell had to admit that it was 
nice being on a mission with someone else in charge for a 
change.  Of course, being on a mission at all was a change 
compared to what he'd been doing since he retired.  But even 
at The Suburb, he was still in charge.  Here, he could kind of 
relax...except for that imminent destruction of the universe part. 
     "Can we use your conference room?" Beck asked.  
     Jaroch looked at her unsure for a moment.  "Of course," he 
said finally.
     "Andrea, Scott Baird's going to come looking for us in a 
moment," Beck said.  "Just send him in."
     "Sure," Carr replied.  "But, I don't..."
     "We're all going to have dinner together later if you want 
to come," Rydell said, jumping in diplomatically before Beck 
had to tell Carr she wasn't allowed in the meeting.
     "Sounds great," Carr said, brightening as the others entered 
the conference room.  She was a bit irked about not being invited 
to the meeting, but she figured Jaroch would explain it all
to her eventually.  She WAS his first officer.
     
     Rydell immediately noticed some changes in the conference 
room.  First off, the pool table that sat where the conference table 
used to be was a big tip off.  On the far side of the room, a
simple bar had been set up, and the inner wall off the room, opposite 
the large windows looking out into space, had a buffet sitting in 
front of it.  Now Rydell had added the buffet himself; it increased 
attendance at staff meetings.  But the rest of it was new.  He and 
Beck looked at Jaroch questioningly.
     "We find that it helps our productivity," Jaroch said.  "And I am 
quite good."  In one fluid motion, he snatched a cue stick out of 
the rack on the wall and slammed it into the cue ball on the table, 
sending white orb flying into the perfectly racked assembly of 
balls at the other end.  After a bit of clacking and rolling, three 
striped balls dropped into various pockets.
     "Nice," Rydell said, taking the stick from Jaroch.  He sized up 
the situation on the table, then hit the cue ball, which obediently 
ricocheted of a side and knocked a couple of solids into pockets.
     "I am assuming, judging by the stardate, that you are here 
concerning Forever," Jaroch said.  Rydell and Beck looked at 
him in surprise.  "I have kept tabs on Starfleet's progress on the
matter over the years."
     "What progress?" Beck muttered.
     "Exactly," Jaroch said.  "And now we must return to Forever 
to attempt to stop the destruction of the universe...again."
     "Well, that was easy," Beck said.  Just then, Captain Baird 
entered the room.
     "Well, if it ain't Jaroch," Baird said, more jovially than usual.  
He shook hands with Jaroch, then looked at the table.  "You ain't 
going to turn into J'Ter and kick my a...butt when I stomp you, are 
you?"
     "You have my word on it," Jaroch said, re-racking the balls.
     "Good."
     "J'Ter's word is another matter entirely," Jaroch said, looking 
up at Baird with a devilish grin.
     "This looks like a perfect place to assign teams," Beck said. 
     "For the game?" Baird asked.
     "That and this mission," Beck replied.  "Tomorrow, you and I 
are going to take my race-about and get Patricia Hawkins."
     "That should be cute," Baird said.
     "Meanwhile, you two will go get Dillon," Beck said to Rydell 
and Jaroch.
     "As you say, this will be cute," Jaroch replied.  "Has the captain 
been informed of Dillon's status."
     "No," Beck said.  "And he won't be until you get there.  
Understood?" 
     "Absolutely," Jaroch said.  "I take it I am just supposed to 
order the crew to cart us around the galaxy without explaining 
why."
     "Is that a problem?" Beck asked.
     "It should not be.  They do not ask where we are headed 
most of the time."
     "Good, then I'll leave Dillon's arrangements up to you."
     "Yee haa," Jaroch said flatly.  "I get to make his bed and 
tuck him in.  I am so looking forward to seeing him again."
     "I'm sure," Beck said, taking a stick off of the rack on the 
wall.  "But you can worry about that after Scott and I demolish 
you."
     "I sincerely doubt that," Jaroch replied.
     "Just finish racking the balls," Beck said.
     "Ooh.  Sounds kinky," Rydell said.  
     "You wish," Beck said.  "I could take all three of you."
     "Great.  You name the place; I'll bring the lemon meringue," 
Rydell replied.  Beck ignored him and aimed her pool cue.  
With a sadistic grin, she hit the cue ball into the racked
group with all of her might.  "Game on, boys."

     The group of Secondprize officers, both past and present, 
gathered for dinner in one of the spacedock restaurants 
overlooking the repair facility.  Every facility like Deneria 
that Rydell had ever been in had one of these restaurants.  
Starfleet knew what the big attraction was.  Everyone
wanted to look out at the ships.  Therefore, the lighting was 
dim, allowing the diners a glare-free look at the mighty starships 
in the docking bay.  
     In the low light, Rydell could almost imagine that he was 
still assigned to the Secondprize and having dinner with his 
crew.  The voices he heard were the same, but he knew each of 
them had a gained a wrinkle or two, or perhaps a little weight.  
And maybe they'd lost a bit of hair...or even a bit of eyesight.  
     Rydell berated himself for his thoughts.  He wasn't even 
fifty yet, and he was talking as though his life were winding to 
a close.  Sure, he wasn't out wandering the stars anymore, but 
he had a very full life at The Suburb.  And, most importantly, 
he had Karina.  Running into her again eight years ago had 
been the decisive moment in his life.  He knew then that he'd 
had enough of the lonely life of a starship captain.  He wanted 
to settle down in one place with one person and see what 
adventures marriage had to offer. Luckily, time proved that 
Karina felt the same way.  Their time together had been 
and was still the most fulfilling he had ever known.  Yes,
occasionally, he yearned for the stars, but they could always 
go tool around in their own ship.  He had no desire to climb 
back in the center seat of a starship.  Let the others have that 
life.
     He looked around the table at his former colleagues...his 
friends.  The feeling was a bit strange.  In some ways, it was 
like he'd never left.  They fell right back in talking and laughing
together as they had been when they were all on the same ship.  
     But then, he could also feel the great gulf between them.  Of 
the six people seated at that table, five of them were in Starfleet 
uniforms.  Only Rydell had left.  The others, while still his
friends, talked about things he didn't really understand, 
technologies he didn't know, alien races he'd never heard of, 
and Starfleet politics involving admirals he'd never met.  
     As wonderful as it was to see them all again, Rydell knew 
that he wasn't a part of their lives anymore.  He'd finish this 
mission and leave or die trying.  Either way, he doubted that 
he'd ever be back with them in a group like this again.
     He was snapped back to reality as Beck placed her hand on 
his shoulder.  "Come on," she said, gesturing her head away from 
the table.
     "Where are we going?" Rydell asked confused.
     "To dance," Beck said, grabbing his arms and pulling him 
out of his chair.  "You looked a bit too serious," she continued, 
dragging him to the dance floor as some bouncy rhythm played 
in the background.  He recognized the music playing.  Actually, 
he'd written the music that was playing.  It was one of his 
parents' big hits from back when they preformed.  
     Rydell smiled, drawing a smile from Beck.  So, they had 
their own lives.  He had one as well.  Beck had no idea that 
the melody her body moved to had been penned years ago by 
the man dancing in front of her.  She had no idea that the duo 
Fabe and Mabe were actually his parents.  She didn't even know 
that, at the tender age of thirteen, he'd written eight of the songs 
that were to become their biggest smashes.
     Inwardly, Rydell thanked whoever had put that song on.  It 
was just the kick in the rear he needed to remind himself that 
there was a lot more to life than Starfleet.  These people were 
his friends; they always would be.  But their lives were moving 
different ways.  He'd enjoy the days they had together.  And, 
somehow, he couldn't even begin to believe that they'd be his 
last.  After that, maybe they'd come visit him at The Suburb.  
Maybe he'd pull Karina away for a week or two and go visit 
some of them.  It was his life; he could do what he wanted 
with it...as could any of them.  
     Most likely, the only one who felt there was any tension 
between them because Rydell left Starfleet was Rydell himself.  
Well, Karina always told him that he could get moody at times. 
Best to just relax and dance.
     Tomorrow, he could worry about saving the galaxy.


CHAPTER SEVEN
	"The Pitstops on the Way to Forever"

     After spending a couple of days there, Commander 
Porter was of the opinion that Forever wasn't too bad as 
far as roommates went.  Generally, Forever just was.  He 
didn't say much or flash his glowing rocks when Porter 
was trying to sleep.  
     On the downside, he wasn't very forthcoming with 
information.  All of Porter's scans had done little more 
than confirm what Jaroch had concluded ten years earlier.  
Yes, Forever seemed to be a major convergence point for 
chronometric energy.  Yes, Forever was obviously sentient. 
Yes, Forever seemed intent on destroying the universe.  No, 
Porter couldn't stop it.
     "YOU MIND IF I ASK YOU SOMETHING?" Forever 
said as Porter poured over the latest series of chronometric 
readouts he'd taken.  It was the first time either of them had 
spoken in several hours.
     "Sure," Porter replied distractedly.
     "YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THE FUTURE?"
     "Of course.  Everybody does.  I don't really dwell on it.  
I always just figured it'd happen when it got here...unless 
you blow up everything."
     "I AM NOT GOING TO BLOW UP EVERYTHING," 
Forever said.
     "You're not?" Porter said, getting excited.
     "NO.  IT'S GOING TO BE MORE OF A TEMPORAL 
TIDAL WAVE CRASHING THROUGH THE UNIVERSE 
OBLITERATING EVERYTHING IN ITS PATH."
     "Gee.  Great.  Much better," Porter replied, turning back 
to his readouts.
     "I THINK ABOUT THE FUTURE."
     "No surprise there.  You already know it."
     "NOT REALLY.  I KNOW THE POSSIBLE FUTURES.  
AND BOY ARE THERE A LOT OF THOSE.  DO YOU 
REALIZE THAT IF YOU HAVE TOAST THIS MORNING
INSTEAD OF EGGS, I HAVE TO TRACK OUT AN ENTIRELY 
DIFFERENT TIMELINE?  TRY DOING THAT FOR EVERY 
BEING IN THE UNIVERSE.  OY!  WHAT A HEADACHE!"
     "Sorry about that."
     "I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO ENDING IT ALL.  
MAYBE NEXT TIME THEY'LL BUILD SOMETHING 
SIMPLER.  FIVE OR TEN PLANETS WOULD BE PERFECT, 
NOT BILLIONS."
     "I hope that all works out for you," Porter muttered.  
"Meanwhile, the rest of us will be wiped out of existence."
     "OH DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT.  I HEAR OBLIVION 
IS LOVELY THIS TIME OF YEAR."
     Porter just glared.
     "THAT WAS A JOKE.  LIGHTEN UP, BUDDY.  
YOU'RE TAKING THIS UNIVERSAL ANNIHILATION 
STUFF MUCH TOO HARD."

     Light years away, Trinian sat in the galactic equivalent 
of a bus station waiting to catch a transport.  The Ollekon 
next to her was sound asleep, snoring out of one mouth and 
drooling out of the other.  He also smelled like he hadn't 
showered in a couple of hundred years.  Trinian sighed 
and tried to focus on the holovision show playing across 
the room.  Of course, the sound was completely down, so 
she couldn't hear a thing.  Why bother showing anything 
if you weren't going to let anyone hear it?
     Her stomach rumbled and did a slight twist as it tried 
to digest the bacon and eggs she'd had for breakfast in the 
spaceport cafeteria.  The meal had sounded appealing at the 
time, since the spaceport actually had a cook.  The woman 
claimed to be from Earth, so Trinian took her up on the offer 
of a traditional Terran breakfast.  She hadn't eaten good Earth 
food since she lived on the planet back in the late 20th/early 
21st century. 
     But now she regretted it.  Just as she was regretting a lot 
of things.  Why did she have to go on vacation at the exact 
time Rydell encountered Forever?  Why didn't she just honestly 
tell Rydell ahead of time why she was really on board?  Surely 
attempting to prevent the end of the universe warranted 
affecting the timeline just a tad.  That's what she would have 
ended up doing anyway if she'd been on board at the time.  But 
her goal as a First Monitor of Forever was to prevent the 
destruction without letting Rydell and the others know that 
she knew the future...sort of.
     Now, here she was ten years later, stuck in a rat hole 
somewhere in the Beta Quadrant.  Having to use public 
transit was annoying, but she knew her tiny ship really 
couldn't handle the speeds she was flying at in her efforts 
to get to Rydell before Morticent did.  Sure enough, the
entire warp core had overloaded a couple of light years 
from where she was now.  Fortunately, a freighter was 
passing by about that time as well.  At least something 
was sort of looking out for her.
     "Now boarding Transport 592 bound for Waystation, 
Multekia Prime, and Bradley Dillon's Pleasure Globe 
Casinoworld."  Trinian stood up and got in line with the 
hordes of tourists out to lose their latinum in the overpriced 
shops of Multekia or at Bradley Dillon's gaming tables.  
Luckily, this wasn't the return trip where all of these folks 
would be broke and depressed.  The Multeks and Bradley 
Dillon certainly seemed to be raking in the bucks.  Perhaps,
if the universe didn't end, she'd see if Bradley needed a 
bartender.

     After seeing to it that her secret weapon against Rydell 
had been safely loaded on board, Morticent sauntered down 
the Mitgogae's main corridor towards her playroom, her lithe 
body clad in a red leather outfit that clung to her every curve.  
     All of these preparations to deal with Rydell just made her 
feel positively evil.  
     And the sensation was positively delicious.  
     Perhaps she'd head to the holodeck and give some exquisite 
torture to a dungeon full of helpless Orions.  Their green skin 
always marked so beautifully under her whip.  Or maybe she'd
just let a bevy of obedient slaves bathe her then indulge her 
every whim.  
     Decisions decisions.
     "GUARDIAN TO MORTICENT."
     "What is it, my precious?" she asked distractedly.  Her mind 
was far too busy picturing a couple of well-muscled Klingons 
rubbing oil into her back before giving her the kind of deep
massage that only a warrior was capable of.
     "WE SHOULD DEPART BEFORE ANYONE NOTIFIES 
STARFLEET."
     "Yes, yes.  Get us to Forever...and quickly."
     "OF COURSE.  WE CANNOT BE LATE FOR THE END 
OF EVERYTHING."
     "True, but I'm more concerned that I'm liable to go play 
with our new toy before we have a chance to use it on 
Alexander Rydell," Morticent said.  Too bad Guardian #492 
couldn't see the sadistic grin on her face.  He always loved 
them so much.
     "I WILL TRY TO KEEP YOU OTHERWISE OCCUPIED," 
Guardian #492 replied with just a hint of lust in his voice.  Most 
other people wouldn't be able to detect it, and Guardian #492 
himself would deny it to the bitter end, but Morticent knew.  
Oddly enough, they were the perfect couple.  To think that 
she would find her life-companion in a big chunk of rock.  Oh 
well, what was that Vulcan saying...oh yes.  Infinite Diversity 
in Infinite Combinations.  If this didn't count, Morticent had 
no clue what would.  She found herself hoping that there was 
some sort of afterlife where she and Guardian #492 could be 
reunited far from the adversities that forced them to destroy 
this universe.  
     But just in case, she'd better get her good times while she 
could.
     "That's what I was hoping you'd say," Morticent said.  "Why 
don't you come occupy me in my playroom for a while?"
     "I AM ALREADY HERE."
     Morticent smiled and picked up her pace a bit to get to 
her special room.  What a love.  She'd have to reward him 
somehow.  



CHAPTER EIGHT
	"Enter the Dillon"               

     Normally, being kept in the dark about something drove 
Rydell nuts.  He'd never been big on surprise parties as a kid, 
and he certainly didn't like having details that could have some
bearing on his destruction held from him, but being back on 
the Secondprize distracted him enough from Jaroch's vague 
answers about Dillon to keep him content.
     Carr had spent a good portion of the morning giving him 
a tour and introducing him to some of the new crewmen.  
Most of the command staff had been on the Secondprize in 
one capacity or another during Rydell's tenure as captain, 
albeit in much lower positions.  Now they all looked so much 
older and more confident.
     Walking down the corridor towards engineering, Rydell 
spotted one woman he remembered particularly well.  Every 
time he sang on talent night, she pushed her way to the edge
of the stage and threw her underwear at him.  Friendly sort.
     As she walked by, she smiled at him and blushed a bit.  
Obviously, she recognized him.  Ah memories.  Rydell 
returned the smile and kept on walking.  Two seconds 
later, something soft smacked him in the back of the head 
then fell to the carpet.  He quickly realized the purple, lacy
object was a pair of panties.  The officer who threw them 
was nowhere in sight.
     "Neat trick," Rydell said as Carr gawked in astonishment.  
"Don't worry about it, Commander.  Happens all the time," 
Rydell lied.  
     "No offense, sir, but you can't have any of mine," Carr 
said, a hint of nervousness in her voice.
     "I'm kidding, Andrea.". 
     "But the..."
     "Long story.  Don't worry about it," Rydell said.  Carr 
shrugged and led the way into engineering.  This room 
seemed to have changed the least of any on the ship.  Sure, 
the consoles looked a bit more advanced, but it still had 
your basic warp core, plasma injectors, and dilithium
crystal chamber.  
     The engineers on duty glanced up briefly as Carr and 
Rydell entered, but then returned to their monitoring of the 
various ship's systems while the core pulsed with energy in 
the center of the room.
     Suddenly, two feminine hands reached around from 
behind and clamped over Rydell's eyes.
     "Guess who, handsome," a sultry voice whispered in 
his ear, her lips just brushing against his lobe sending a 
shiver down his spine.  "Or would you prefer I take you 
into my office and help jog your memory?"
     "No need there.  You are positively unforgettable," 
Rydell replied.  It was true.  Monica Vaughn, the 
transporter chief under his command, had made quite 
an impression on him.  Of course, the fact that she'd spent 
the better part of five years trying to seduce him probably 
had something to do with that.
     "Smooth talker," Vaughn said, letting go and whirling 
Rydell around.  Before he could even say hi, she thrust her 
tongue into his mouth for one of the deepest French kisses 
he'd ever experienced.
     "Wow, this does happen all the time," Carr said.  
Vaughn finished her probe of Rydell's esophagus and 
pushed him away playfully.
     "I sure hope not," Vaughn said.  "He's mine."
     "I think my wife may have something to say about 
that," Rydell replied after regaining his composure.
     "I won't tell her if you won't tell my husband," Vaughn 
said.
     "You're married?" Rydell gasped in shock.  Now that 
was unbelievable.  "Anybody I know?"
     "Why?  Jealous?"
     "Just curious."
     "No.  He's a Nuphelian I met a couple of years ago."
     "Nuphelians," Rydell said, searching his memory.  He'd 
heard of that species before.  The knowledge clicked into 
place.  "Aren't they the ones with the three..."
     "Yep," Vaughn said, cutting him off.
     "Commander Vaughn is our chief engineer," Carr said 
in a valiant attempt to change the subject.
     "Congratulations," Rydell said, taking the hint.  
     "Thanks.  Jaroch doesn't appreciate me like you did, 
but I still enjoy my work," Vaughn replied. 
     "Maybe you should just beam into his quarters naked 
like you did to me that time," Rydell suggested.
     "It didn't work with you; why would it be any more 
effective on Jaroch?"
     "Just a thought."
     "Jaroch to Carr," the captain's voice said over the comm 
system.
     "Carr here."
     "Please bring Mister Rydell to the bridge.  We have 
reached our destination."
     "We're on our way," Carr said.
     "We'll have to get together later," Vaughn said.  "Make 
up for lost time."
     "Right," Rydell said non-committally as he followed 
Carr out of engineering.  Had it really been eight years 
since he'd seen Vaughn?  Some things just hadn't changed 
a bit...well, except for the fact that she was married to that 
Nuphelian.

     Emerging onto the bridge, Rydell saw that the Secondprize 
was now hovering over a small asteroid in what seemed like 
the middle of nowhere.
     "Mister Rydell and I shall be beaming down alone," Jaroch 
said to Carr.  "You have the conn."
     "Aye, sir," she said, walking down and taking a seat in 
the command chair as Jaroch headed into the turbolift Rydell 
and Carr had just exited.
     "Are you coming?" Jaroch asked.  Confused, Rydell took 
another look at the desolate rock on the viewscreen then 
stepped back into the turbolift.
     "Deck four," Jaroch said, then stood silently as the lift 
made its brief decent.
     "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this is 
all about yet," Rydell said.  
     "Not until we have left the ship.  The matter in 
question is of a somewhat sensitive nature still, and I 
do not wish it to become common knowledge among the 
crew."
     "Okey-doke," Rydell said.  He was still unsatisfied but 
figured he could wait for a couple of more minutes to 
resolve the mystery of Dillon's whereabouts.
     He and Jaroch beamed down to a man-made facility 
inside of the asteroid.  The interior basically looked like 
a set of simple living quarters with a living area, replicators, 
and a hallway leading back to what Rydell assumed was a 
bathroom and a bedroom.  The only odd thing about the 
quarters was the large set of doors dominating one wall.  
If Rydell didn't know any better, he'd swear that they led 
to a holodeck.  The panel softly blinking next to the doors 
even looked like a holodeck access panel, but Rydell 
assumed that it must lead to some sort of classified
project.  
     Dillon working on a classified project.  Just how low 
had Starfleet sunk?
     Then a balding, bearded man emerged from the rear 
hallway wearing a Starfleet medical uniform.  This couldn't 
be Dillon, Rydell thought.  Could it?  Nah?  The face was 
completely wrong.
     "Hello," the man said, extending his hand to Rydell, 
who shook it.  "Dr. Ray Miller at your service."
     "Alexander Rydell."
     "How nice to finally meet you?" Miller said.
     "You have received the communique, I presume," Jaroch 
said.
     "Absolutely, but I really think this is a bad idea.  We're 
at a critical stage right now," Miller replied.
     "Just tell him to drop whatever he's doing and come with 
us," Rydell said.  Miller looked at Jaroch questioningly.
     "Due to the nature of the project, I felt that Mister Rydell 
should see things for himself rather than try to explain it 
to him," Jaroch said.  "May we go in?"
     "Of course," Miller said heading over to the panel by 
the large doors.  He punched in a couple of controls, and 
the doors opened revealing a lush, woodland landscape.  So 
it was a holodeck, Rydell thought as he, Jaroch and Miller 
stepped inside.
     "This is Commander Dillon's home," Miller said.  "I 
would simply ask that you treat it with respect."
     "Wait a second!" Rydell said.  "He lives in here?"
     "You do remember that Commander Dillon took 
Patricia Hawkins' departure from the Secondprize 
rather badly, do you not?" Jaroch said.
     "Oh yeah.  She ran off with that Klingon.  Dillon was 
a complete and total wreck.  I never really thought much 
about it.  He'd had enough of those types of things happen 
to him that I just figured he'd get over it," Rydell said.
     "He did not," Jaroch said.  "After your retirement, he 
threw everything he had into a bid to become captain of 
the Secondprize.  Starfleet opted to promote me instead.  
They felt that Dillon's record indicated a distinct inability 
to lead or inspire loyalty."
     "I can see their point."
     "This disaster removed the final shred of Dillon's sanity.  
He quickly slipped into madness, continually ranting about 
killing you."
     "Me?  What did I do?" Rydell exclaimed.  "Why is 
it that all the psychopaths blame me for everything?"
     "That is why Dillon is here.  I have noticed that people 
we send to Tantalus V tend to come back for revenge with 
an annoying frequency.  Instead, I pulled a few strings to 
get this arranged."
     "Everything is really very nice," Miller explained.  
"He's not sitting in some hospital somewhere letting his 
resentment of you build.  Instead, we're letting him live 
out his fantasies in a safe, loving environment."
     "And Starfleet approved this?" Rydell said in disbelief.
     "This asteroid had already been constructed," Jaroch 
explained.  "A particularly anti-social admiral had 
designed it to be her retirement home, but she died 
before she could use it.  It was a simple matter for 
Admiral Wagner to take it over and have a counselor 
assigned.  You are now one of only seven people who 
know Dillon's true whereabouts."
     "So how nuts is he?" Rydell asked.
     "Completely off his rocker," Miller said.  "The man's 
ego has grown exponentially to take up the space where 
his sanity used to reside."
     "Doctor Ray!  Doctor Ray!" two female voices 
shouted excitedly, interrupting the conversation.  Two 
gorgeous, young women dressed in skimpy outfits made
 from leaves ran over and hugged Dr. Miller tightly.  
"Have you come to play with us?"
     "Dillon created them?" Rydell asked.  That seemed 
a bit out of character for Dillon.  Of course, he was 
insane now, so who knew.
     "Uh...no," Miller said guiltily.  "These are mine."
     "Uh huh," Rydell replied.
     "Hey!  A guy gets lonely here by himself.  I'm sorry, 
darlings, but I have to take these travelers to the castle."
     "Ooooooh," they said fearfully.  "The Dark Lord is 
in a foul mood today."
     "Oh, give me a break," Rydell said.  "Can we just 
get on with this, Miller?"
     "All right."  He gave each wood nymph a peck on 
the cheek and led Rydell and Jaroch through the trees.  
Gradually, a giant, black castle came into view, its 
towers rising skyward to impossible heights.
     "Do you like it?" Miller asked.  "Dillon designed it 
himself and just finished programming it."
     "So he knows he's in a holodeck," Rydell said.
     "In a way," Miller replied.  "He is aware that he 
has complete control of his universe, which he feels 
is exactly as it should be.  I don't think the idea that 
it could all be artificial has even occurred to him."
     Miller led the way across the castle drawbridge 
which stretched across a vast bubbling moat of some 
greenish liquid Rydell assumed was probably acid, and 
into the structure itself.  Hundreds of guards, nobles, 
servants, and other citizens moved through the halls, 
all nodding respectfully upon seeing Miller.
     Finally, they reached a set of immense black steel 
doors that rose upwards at least five stories.  Two guards 
in black metallic armor stood in front of the doors armed 
with guns as large as six phaser rifles bonded together.  
At their sides, a nasty, jagged-edged sword hung from 
each hip.  They said nothing and made no effort to move 
as Miller approached.
     "We have come for an audience with his majesty, the 
supreme ruler of the cosmos, president of the galaxy, fleet 
admiral of the universe, and all-around lovable guy, the 
magnificent Travis Michael Dillon."
     "Password," the guards intoned flatly.  Miller started 
to sing.

          Travis is a really cool guy,
          Doo dah, Doo dah
          He's so awesome, I want to cry.
          Oh, de doo dah day.

     "You may proceed," the Guards said as the giant doors 
swung open. 
     "I really hate that part," Miller whispered.  "But 
Dillon insists upon it."
     "You know, you could try actually counseling him 
and getting him through some of this stuff," Rydell said.
     "Oh no.  I don't think he'd like that at all," Miller said.
     "He is much happier here," Jaroch said.
     "And completely removed from society," Rydell said.
     "There is that benefit," Jaroch conceded.
     The trio walked into the castle throne room, another 
gigantic chamber filled with a strange mix of medieval 
furnishings and modern computer consoles.  At the 
head of the room, sitting on a throne in front of a vast 
wall of monitors showing different regions of the galaxy 
and starships that Rydell didn't recognize, was Travis 
Michael Dillon.  A group of holographic admirals and
officers stood in front of his thrown, kneeling, awaiting 
his orders.
     "Move the fleet to the Gobis Sector," Dillon said 
rising from his throne.  He was dressed entirely in black 
except for a red cape that billowed out behind him despite 
the lack of wind in the room.  Dillon himself looked like 
he could bench-press a small moon.  His shoulders had 
to be four feet wide and connected to equally impressive 
arms.  "I want every life form there obliterated."
     "He's been working out," Rydell said stunned.
     "No.  It's just the outfit," Miller said.  "Don't worry."
     Dillon finished giving his commands for galactic 
conquest then waved his minions away.  They scurried 
off obediently as Dillon locked his gaze on Counselor 
Miller.  Pressing a button on the cuff of his sleeve, Dillon 
floated up into the air and flew over to Miller, Rydell and 
Jaroch, his boots pulsing with an anti-grav field.
     "And what can I do for you, Chief Minister?" Dillon 
asked.  He glanced briefly at Rydell and Jaroch but gave 
no hint of recognition.
     "Your wisdom is needed elsewhere, your majesty," 
Miller said.  "These men have traveled far to seek your 
assistance."
     "Oh brother," Rydell muttered.
     "And what is it that you need?" Dillon said, floating 
over to Jaroch.
     "Travis, we've got to go fix the universe.  Turn the 
silly boots off and come with us," Rydell said.  Dillon 
turned on Rydell, his eyes wide with fury.
     "You dare use my name with such disrespect!" Dillon 
bellowed.  "I shall have you flayed alive!"
     "It's me.  Alexander Rydell.  Captain Rydell."
     Dillon's fury grew as he recognized the man in front 
of him.  "Guards!  Kill them all!"  Suddenly, from out of 
nowhere, dozens of the armored guards poured into the 
room, brandishing one of the nasty looking blades in 
each hand. 
     "Come on, Dillon.  This is ridiculous," Rydell said.
     "I wonder if I turned the holodeck safeties back on?" 
Miller said, lost in thought.
     "On?" Rydell said, suddenly realizing that their lives 
could be in mortal danger.  "On!  Why the hell were they 
off?"
     "I like to play rough sometimes," Miller said sheepishly.
     "Just end the damn program!" Rydell shouted as the 
guards advanced.
     "What?  Do you realize the kind of damage that could 
do to this man's psyche?" Miller protested.
     "I'm more concerned about the damage those knives 
could do to us!" Rydell replied.
     "Jaroch to Secondprize," Jaroch said, tapping his thumb 
and forefinger together to activate the communicator.
     "Secondprize," Carr said.
     "Is the holodeck program running?"
     "Yes, sir.  Mind telling me what it is?"
     "Not at this time," Jaroch said.  "Lock onto everyone 
in this room and energize."
     "I am a god!" Dillon screamed, raising his arms into 
the air as the guards moved in on Rydell.  His revelry 
turned to confusion as a transporter locked onto him.  
Moments later, he and his three would-be victims 
materialized on the bridge of a starship.  He knew this 
place, the room that still haunted him in his nightmares 
occasionally.
     "Welcome to the Secondprize," Jaroch said.  
     "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Dillon cried. 
The Dark Lord collapsed to the deck of the holographic 
Secondprize bridge and began sobbing uncontrollably.  
Occasionally, through the blubbering, Rydell could hear 
a soft "this can't be happening" or an "I killed them all."
     "We should probably let him get adjusted," Jaroch said.  
"Take care of this, will you, Counselor?"
     "Sure.  Piece of cake," Miller said aggravated.  He 
knelt down beside Dillon, rubbing his head as Jaroch and 
Rydell slipped quietly out of the holodeck.  "There there, 
Travis.  It's going to be okay."
     "This is just beautiful," Rydell said once they were out 
in the corridor.  "If he doesn't recover soon, we're all 
screwed."  He noticed the smirk on Jaroch's face.  "What 
the hell are you so happy about?"
     "I just realized that I've been able to ruin Commander 
Dillon's life twice, and I didn't even have to try," Jaroch 
replied. 
     "You can be a real bastard sometimes.  You know that?"
     "I prefer to think of it as living life to the fullest," Jaroch 
said.
     "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
     "Oh no.  The real fun begins with Patricia Hawkins 
arrives," Jaroch replied.  "Commander Dillon will be just 
thrilled to see her."
     "I can't wait," Rydell muttered unenthusiastically.


CHAPTER NINE
	"Hell Hath No Fury Like A Bowser Scorned"

     Patricia Hawkins surveyed the gathered crowd searching 
for the slightest hint that one of the beings in this horde 
could be a threat to her client.  If it were her decision to make, 
they wouldn't even be out here today, but L'nas Kol had other 
plans.  Kol was a former staff member of the incredibly popular 
galactic holovision program Bowden's Moon.  Normally, that 
alone was enough to ensure that he was mobbed by rabid 
"Bowsers" wherever he went.  But he'd just written an unflattering 
tell-all book about Bowden's creator, Clephsus Grenenenenenenenen,
affectionately known as "The Lord of the Moon," by his loyal viewers.  
Kol had lifted the lid off of the trash dumpster, though, and revealed 
all of Clephsus' dark secrets: the budgets he cut, the actors he 
fought with, the fans he slept with, all of it.  But to a group as 
devoted as the Bowsers, such treachery had only one possible 
punishment: DEATH!
     And that was the reason Kol had hired a private security 
firm for his book signing appearance here at the fabulous 
Mall of Antares, the largest shopping arena in the known
universe.  
     As co-head of that private security firm, Patricia Hawkins 
had taken it upon herself to personally oversee the team handling 
Kol's signing.  Of course, she would have preferred that someone 
with 36 death threats against them just stay in hiding, but this 
way her company got some high-profile work.  
     Her fellow firm founder and husband was stationed at the 
signing table next to Kol, while Hawkins watched the crowd as 
best she could from the rear of the room.  The blue twinkling of
two transporter beams off to her left caught her attention.
     "Hawkins to Mookow," she said, slapping her comm-pin to 
contact her husband.
     "Go ahead," the deep voice of her Klingon spouse intoned.
     "We've got the beaming shield up around this room, don't
we?"
     "Affirmative.  All transporter activity must flow through 
the main transporter lounge on the mall security level."
     "Somebody has some other ideas," Hawkins said.  "Watch 
Kol.  I'm on it."  She could see people being brushed aside as 
the newcomers pushed their way towards the front.  Pulling her
hand phaser, Hawkins surged into the crowd in front of her, 
racing to cut them off.
     "Mookow to Hawkins.  Do you have them?"
     "Almost," Hawkins said, grunting as she pushed between 
two particularly obese people.  She could see the movement at 
the head of the mob.  They were almost to the ropes where the
line started in front of Kol's table, but she was right on their 
tails.  This was going to be close.
     "DO YOU HAVE THEM?"
     "Hang on."
     "Patricia..."
     Hawkins stopped paying attention.  For a Klingon, Mookow 
sure worried a lot.  Hawkins could see the backs of the people 
pushing towards Kol.  They appeared to be a man and a woman
in Starfleet uniforms.  Very clever.  What better way to stave off 
suspicion?  
     Just as the two broke clear of the mob and had a clear shot 
at the table, Hawkins let out a Klingon battle cry and dove, 
causing the would-be-assassins to freeze in their tracks just 
before she slammed into them, knocking them to the floor.
     "Everybody back!" Mookow bellowed, firing his phaser 
into the air.  Kol dove for cover under the table while the 
calm group of gathered fans dissolved into a chaotic horde 
of frantic, screaming bodies trying to get out of the bookstore.
     Hawkins scrambled to her feet, aiming her phaser down 
at the two prone figures on the floor.  "Just stay right there!" 
she shouted.  "One twitch and I vaporize your f***ing asses!"
     "Hello to you too, Patricia," the woman said.  That voice!  
Why did she know...oh hell.  Hawkins nudged the woman with 
her foot, signaling her to roll over.  
     "Lisa!" Patricia said in astonishment as she recognized 
Lisa Beck.  Of course.  She should have guessed.  How many 
other tall redheads in Starfleet uniforms did she know?  But 
were those admiral's bars on her collar?
     "How the heck are ya?" the man said, not waiting for anyone 
to tell him it was all right to turn over.  Scott Baird.  Now this 
was an odd pair.
     "What are you doing here?" Hawkins asked.
     "You know these two?" Kol said, peeking his head up 
from under the table.
     "They're old associates," Hawkins explained as Beck and 
Baird picked themselves up off the floor.
     "This is a restricted area," Mookow said, obviously 
displeased.  "If you wished to visit Patricia, you should 
have arrived through the appropriate checkpoints."
     "We didn't have time for the da...dang appropriate 
checkpoints," Baird said.  "And that was one lousy shield 
you guys put up."
     "You said it'd be top-of-the-line!" Kol said angrily, as 
he faced Mookow.  Mookow turned on Hawkins.
     "I told you we should have bought the Dillon Enterprises 
model.  Your silly desire to avoid any and all things 
associated with your former lover..."
     "You bought cheap equipment because of her 
ex-boyfriend?" Kol screamed.  "This is intolerable!"
     "Sorry to cause a fuss, but your office told us where you 
were," Beck said pulling
Hawkins aside as Kol raved at Mookow.  "We've got a 
situation we need to discuss." 
     "What situation?"
     "Remember Forever?"
     "Huh?"
     "That thing t