Star Trek and all its references are the sole property of Paramount and Viacom Communications. Star Traks, the Secondprize, Waystation, and all their references are the sole property of Alan Decker. That tiny portion left over is ALL MINE! Anthony Butler, Copyright 1997. WARNING: The following contains mildly disturbing language and situations. I'd say it's comparable to the primetime timeslot. If Seinfeld doesn't offend you, you're probably okay :) STAR TRAKS: THE VEXED GENERATION "OUT OF TIME" BY ANTHONY BUTLER AND ALAN DECKER For everyone in the past, present, and future that made this possible, and for the beautiful fabric of time, which I have kneaded, torn, and destroyed herein. Thanks. AAB To "The Crew," for making my time on this planet interesting, and to Jennifer for making that time worthwhile. AJD "Time is the fire in which we burn." Dr. Tolian Soran 2371 "Time is the beauty of the road being long." John Popper, Blues Traveler 1994 "Actually time is neutral. It can be used either destructively or constructively." Martin Luther King, Jr. 1963 FOREWARD On Stardate 51546, the crew of the Starship Secondprize followed the hijacked Starship Defiant back through time to the year 1995. Their mission was to stop an insane woman from killing Captain Alexander Rydell's twentieth century counterpart. This woman, Rebecca Singer, the Secondprize's former Chief Medical Officer, had become obsessed with Captain Rydell, vowing to kidnap his ancestor and bring him back to the present. Singer landed one of the Defiant's microshuttles on Earth, tracking down Rydell's ancestor, along with the 20th century Travis Dillon and Carl Jaroch, to a place called Norfolk, Virginia. Upon finding out that the twentieth century Alex liked her even less than the twenty-fourth century Rydell, Singer went even more insane and attempted to kill all three ancestors, thus jeopardizing the future of the Secondprize's respective officers. Luckily, Rydell and Dillon were successful in finding and stopping Singer, who, after a long and perilous chase through a crowded shopping mall, was finally taken into custody, thus preserving the timeline. The twentieth century Alex, Travis, and Carl were taken to the Secondprize, where the day's adventure was wiped from their memories, and they were returned to their places on Earth. What the crew of the Secondprize did not know, however, was that the Defiant's shuttle remained in the secluded forest near the mall, and that a security camera had captured the harrowing chase through said mall. If that wasn't bad enough, memories of the traumatic event still lingered on the periphery of Alex, Travis, and Carl's subconscious, screaming to be released. And if that isn't confusing enough, keep reading. PART I: THE PREGAME SHOW IRMA BARGAIN BILL'S FLEAMARKET SALISBURY, MD SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1995 10:00 AM "Thanks again." David Conway said, giving his customer the correct change and tucking the five dollar bill he had received into the roll of bills that had grown steadily in his pocket as the morning had progressed. "You know, Dave, I could be working on my Philosophy paper right now." Andy Baxter said, sitting back behind the table and watching as David meticulously organized his stock of NASCAR memorabilia. He also had some Star Trek merchandise, but, the morning's profit had taught him that the flea market set wasn't exactly a group that thrived on Trek. As a matter of fact, some didn't even know what planet they were on. "Go, then." Dave said moodily, taking a swig from a steamy Styrofoam cup of coffee. "I sure as hell don't need you here." "You need my truck to haul all this crap out of here later this afternoon." Andy replied. "I'm planning on selling everything." Dave said flatly. "Well then you'll need a ride home." "I'll hitch." "And be subject to sadists, murderers, and serial killers?" Andy asked. "I think not." "Then what do you want from me?" Dave asked. "I want some excitement." Andy said, folding his arms. "That's one thing that obviously isn't abundant around here." "I thought you wanted to work on your Philosophy paper." Dave said. "No." Andy corrected. "That's what I could be doing right now, not what I want to do right now." "Now the great philosophy minor will lecture me all about semantics," Dave said, rolling his eyes. He turned toward the woman who was eyeing some of his Star Trek figures. "May I help you, ma'am?" "It's not semantics at all." Andy said quietly to himself. "It's just the way of things." "Yes, you can definitely help me." The woman said, her eyes lighting up as they met with David's. "I'm looking for some Star Trek items. I just love Star Trek, don't you?" "Y-yes," Dave said, looking the woman up and down, trying to mask his disgust. "Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Trekkie!" the woman said happily, reaching out to shake Dave's hand. Initially he tried to pull back from her, but she managed to search out his hand, grab it, and shake it vigorously. "Irma." The woman said, "Irma Wilson, of Hampton Roads, Virginia." Irma Wilson was your average two-hundred pound white female Trekkie, chocolate gobbler and fervent Jerry Springer watcher. The only thing she was missing was an equally fat, drunken husband, who Dave assumed was lurking around somewhere nearby. "Dave Conway." Dave said weakly. "Uh, where you looking for anything in particular?" Irma leaned forward conspiratorially. "I heard they were going to be marketing a new phaser soon." Dave leaned back, trying to put some distance between him and the Trekkie. "You mean the one from the movies? Yeah, that one's due out in the spring." "Really!" Irma said excitedly. "Yeah, um..." Dave said, turning around and glancing over at Andy. He was deeply absorbed in the latest Star Trek novel, some piece of rubbish written by William Shatner. "I'll tell you what, why don't you talk to Andy...he's our resident weapons expert." Irma clapped her hands. "Oh, joy!" Andy looked up. "Were you talking to me, Dave?" "Yes." Dave grunted, taking up a position behind Andy. "Help this lady while I go get something out of the car." "No." Andy whispered. "This is your stupid stand." Dave turned away from the woman. "Please. Just keep her busy. You like to talk." Andy glanced over to Irma then back to Dave. "Not to freaks. No deal." Dave moved away from Andy, smiling broadly at Irma. "Andy'll be right with you. Pleasure to meet ya, ma'am." With that, Dave was off in a cloud of outdoor Flea Market dirt. "The car's locked, Dave!" Andy called out. "I'll break in!" Dave shouted back. Andy turned his attention back to the customer, smiling weakly. "You had a question, Ma'am?" "Please, call me Irma." Irma said, batting her eyes. "My, you're taller than the other guy." "Um, I was born that way, Irma." Andy said. "Now what can I do for you?" "Do you know the contractors that were rebuilding my bathroom quit on me?" Irma said, suddenly changing the subject quicker than a rat could pass a turd. "Umm..." Andy said. "And I paid them up front. Fifteen hundred dollars!" "You don't..." Irma walked around Dave's table, getting directly in Andy's face. "And the worst part is, I can't even find them. They changed the name of the company and moved out of state. I talked to a lawyer, but he didn't seem to be much help. Do you know a good lawyer?" Andy tried to move away, but he was caught in this woman's tractor beam, and he just couldn't get out. "Oh, well," the woman said, not waiting for Andy to answer. "I just love lawyers. I was so mad when they canceled LA Law. Arnie was my favorite character. Do you know he was on Star Trek? He played Q. Well, the other Q. What was his name?" "Q two?" Andy offered. "No, that's not even close." Irma said. "Anyway, back to the contractors..." THREE HOURS LATER... After devouring an entire large pizza and checking out some of the other stands, David returned to his own stand, assuming that Irma would be long gone. To his surprise, and horror, however, she was still there, standing, arms at sides, right in Andy's face, and running her mouth like there was no tomorrow. And all Andy could do was sit there and listen, his face a mask of complete horror and dismay. "...so I took him to the vet, and the vet said that the only solution was to either remove Bilbo's urinary tract, or have him put to sleep. Well, needless to say, I had a hard time deciding what to do. I had Bilbo for ten years at that point, which is a long time for a sheepdog to live, but still..." Irma said, her mouth moving a mile a minute. Dave was about to run away again, when Andy suddenly snapped out of his shock and cried out. "D-dave! There you are. We were just talking about you!" Dave stopped, turning slowly. "You were?" "We were?" Irma asked. "Uh, yeah." Andy said. "Remember...you wanted to know the price of the Spock doll?" "Oh," Irma said. "Yeah. That was like an hour ago!" "I...um...have a good memory." Andy said. "It's eleven bucks." Dave said. "Gotta go!" Andy grabbed the collar of Dave's shirt and dragged him back. "Not so fast, Conway." "We were just having the greatest discussion!" Irma said, glad to see another victim enter her grasp. "We were talking about my dog, Bilbo, and his urinary tract infection. Well, anyway, he really likes cheese, so I used to stick cheese in my pockets to get him to obey me, and well, when we decided to put him to sleep, I stuck a lot of cheese in my pockets...you know, limburger, sharp cheddar, extra sharp cheddar, mild cheddar, American, Monterey jack..." "MAKE IT STOP!" Dave cried, raising his head up to the heavens. But, evidently, the fates weren't smiling on David or Andy on that day, because Irma just kept on talking. And later on that month, David and Andy would find that Lady Fortuna would go through several such mood swings. And as strange as it seems, this strange, grossly overweight woman, a child of the Television Age, would play a major part in the scheme of time, and in the lives of a valiant crew who would not be born for over three hundred years. CHAPTER ONE OLD DOMINION UNIVERSITY NORFOLK, VA He was running scared. He wasn't sure why he was running or who he was running from, but he was definitely scared. His surroundings were indistinct, but he could hear lots of voices and see lots of lights. Suddenly, an impenetrable mass of people was in front of him. Panicking, he tried to force his way through. He was about to be caught; he had to get through. Travis Dillon jolted awake dripping with sweat. He was back in his bedroom at Old Dominion University, and everything seemed quiet. Across the room, he could hear his roommate, Alex Rydell, breathing. Travis looked at the clock. It was six-thirty in the morning. He didn't plan on getting up for another three hours, but Travis was pretty sure that he wasn't going to be getting anymore sleep. Why was he so scared? It was only a dream. He didn't even see who was chasing him. Why was this bothering him so much? His life was boring. Nothing ever happened to him. Alex Rydell woke up for the sixteenth straight day with the feeling that something was wrong. He had no idea what, but something was just not right. It had started the morning after he and Travis had spent an entire day at Carl's apartment playing video games. A whole day playing video games, and for some reason that neither he nor Travis could figure out, they had driven to Carl's in separate cars even though they came from the same place and were going back to the same place. That whole day was a little fuzzy, though, which was unusual for Alex. He normally had an excellent memory for events, but all he could remember of that day was going over to Carl's to watch Spiderman, playing some Mortal Kombat 3, then driving home. The middle of the day just wasn't there. Since that Saturday, though, Alex had been troubled. Something was just plain wrong, and he had no idea what. Although he had noticed that he had become kind of jumpy around certain women, more specifically, women with long, black hair. What that was or what that meant, he had no clue. Maybe he was developing some new type of phobia. Alex looked over at the clock. Seven o'clock. He didn't have to be up for class for another two hours. Something else was wrong, though. He looked over at Travis's bed and was surprised to find it empty. Travis never got up early. Alex crawled out of bed and walked out into the living room. Travis was curled up in a chair reading a book. "What's up?" Alex asked sleepily. "Nothing," Travis said. "I just couldn't sleep." "You couldn't sleep? That's new." "Yeah well. I'm fine. Go back to sleep." "No point. I'm awake now," Alex said taking a seat on the couch. Travis knew that he was lying. Alex was capable of falling asleep at a moment's notice. A minor disturbance like this would not even phase him. "I feel..." "Weird," Alex finished. "Yeah. Exactly. I just have no clue why." "Me too." "That makes three of us," Travis said. "Three?" "I ran into Carl at lunch on Friday. He hasn't been feeling right either. It's nothing physical. He just said that he hasn't been sleeping well for the last couple of weeks." "Me either. It's probably just stress," Alex said, not really believing it. "You're graduating at the end of the semester. We graduate in May. A lot is going on." "You're probably right," Travis said, not meaning it. "I'm just glad we're getting a few days off. Thanksgiving break couldn't have come at a better time." "When are you heading home?" "Tomorrow after sociology," Travis said. "What about you?" "Wednesday afternoon probably." They sat in silence for a few moments. Travis yawned. "That's it," he said, standing up. "I'm going back to sleep if it kills me." "That's the spirit. Sleep awaits." "Damn right." CHAPTER TWO FBI HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON, DC MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1995 6:08 AM Agent Dana Scully rubbed the last bit of sleep out of her eyes as she stepped up to the door of the office that she shared with Agent Fox Mulder. Their office, located in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building, was the home of the X-files, unsolved and unexplained cases that were the life work of Agent Mulder. As Scully stepped into the office, Mulder was pushing a cart that contained a television and a VCR into place beside a movie screen. His face, as always, was inexpressive. Only the speed and intensity of Mulder's movements told Scully that he was excited about something. Of course, the fact that he had called her in at six in the morning on a Monday was a pretty good clue as well. "You had better have not called me in here this early just to see this weekend's episode of Unsolved Mysteries," Scully said, taking a seat to watch whatever multimedia extravaganza Mulder had prepared for her. "It was a rerun," Mulder replied with a smile. "I thought that we'd watch some of my home movies instead. Did you ever see my tenth birthday party? We had everything...even a pony." "Mulder, its early. Please have pity on me." "OK. It won't be as fun though." He picked up a remote control and activated the VCR. The television screen flashed to life showing a grainy, black and white image of the inside of a mall. There was no sound, and patrons were milling about normally going about their shopping. "You're looking at the Greenbriar Mall located just outside of Norfolk, Virginia," Mulder said. "This is surveillance footage from the mall's security cameras." "Don't tell me. Aliens were seen buying shoes at Lady Footlocker," Scully said. "Just watch." A moment later, three male figures, one black and two white, ran into the picture from off to the right. All three of them appeared to be quite frightened. Suddenly, a bright glowing beam flashed by them, originating from the direction they just ran onto the screen from. "Oh my God. What was that?" Scully said, leaning forward in her seat. Mulder just smiled. A white woman with long black hair ran into the image holding a small rectangular device in her hands. She shouted something at the three fleeing males and raised the rectangular device in their direction. Another glowing beam flashed out of it. "It's some type of laser gun, but how..." "We don't know," Mulder said. The film continued, obviously taken from different cameras around the mall. The three males ran from the woman, who was in turn being chased by two other males, one white and one black. The entire group eventually ran behind a barrier blocking off an unfinished store, then the tape ended. Mulder stood up and walked over in front of the projection screen. "Who were those people?" Scully asked. "Good question. Nobody knows. Mall security entered that storefront five minutes later and found no trace of anyone. That footage was taken on November Fourth, and not one lead has come up." "November Fourth, and you just got it!" "No, I got it a week ago. Since then, I've been trying to identify the people in the footage." "Any luck?" "I haven't been able to find anything on the woman or the men chasing after her. I was a bit luckier on the three men being chased though," Mulder said as he switched on the slide projector sitting on the table in front of the projection screen which showed a picture of a large group of people. Three heads in the crowd were circled. "This is a photo of the members of the Old Dominion University Academic Honors Program taken this September," Mulder continued. "It turns out that all three of the men being chased are in this program." He went ahead to the next slide which showed a close-up of the first man. He was a white male, about twenty years old, wearing glasses. "This is Travis Dillon. Twenty-one years old. He's from Salisbury, Maryland, majoring in English, and writes for the campus paper. He currently lives in Apartment AA6 in an apartment complex on campus." Mulder clicked to the next slide showing a black male, also about twenty and also wearing glasses. "This is Alex Rydell. Also twenty-one years old. He's from Pocomoke, Maryland and is majoring in psychology. He also lives in Apartment AA6." "Travis Dillon's roommate," Scully said. "Yes. He has been for the last two years," Mulder replied, clicking ahead to the next slide. This slide was of a white male, about twenty, with long hair tied into a pony tail. "This is Carl Jaroch. Twenty-three years old. He's from Clinton, North Carolina and is majoring in physics. He lives in..." "Apartment AA6," Scully finished. "No, but wouldn't that be convenient," Mulder said. "Actually, he's married and lives less than half a mile away from Greenbriar Mall." "And you're sure these are the three guys from the tape?" Scully asked. "I had a feeling you'd ask that," Mulder said, clicking ahead to the next slide. It was an enhanced image from the surveillance tape showing a close up of the three men being chased. It was definitely Travis Dillon, Alex Rydell, and Carl Jaroch. To further hammer home this point, Mulder had placed the images from the honors program below the image from the tape. "It's them," Mulder said. "That still doesn't explain why they were being chased," Scully said. "I know," Mulder said. "Let's go ask them." "I should have known this was coming." "So what's the plan, Mulder?" Scully asked four hours later as they drove down Interstate 64 into Norfolk. Mulder pulled a couple of folded up papers out of his pocket. "The Old Dominion registrar was kind enough to fax me copies of the class schedules for our friends. Alex and Carl will be in class when we arrive, but we should catch Travis at home." "None of this makes any sense." "What? That three unknown college students should be chased through a public place by a woman firing a laser gun?" "I suppose you have a theory." "Maybe they prank called her, and she got pissed." "And she just happened to have a laser gun?" "Could happen." Travis Dillon sat down at his computer and stared at the blank screen in front of him. His word processing program almost seemed to be taunting him. Come on. Write something. I dare you. Travis couldn't take the dare. Writer's block was standing in his way again. He just knew that there was a great story locked up somewhere in his head. Finding it was the problem. Travis sighed and just started typing his stream of consciousness into the computer. helpme help me I need to write something. Come on. Idea Idea Idea. I want a story about something. Maybe a man and a woman. A strong man, heroic, and a woman with long black hair and a laser. Travis stared dumbfounded at the last bit he had typed. Where did that come from? And why was he feeling so scared all of a sudden? Four sudden loud knocks on the apartment door almost made him jump out of his skin. Calming himself down, Travis walked out into the living room and answered the door. A well-dressed man and woman were standing outside of his door. "Travis Dillon?" the woman asked. "Yes," Travis said hesitantly. "I'm Agent Dana Scully," she said, pulling an ID out of her trenchcoat. "This is my partner, Fox Mulder." Travis looked at the identification card. These two were with the FBI. What did they want with him? "Could we come in and ask you a few questions?" Mulder asked. "S-s-sure," Travis stammered nervously, stepping out of the way to let them enter. Mulder and Scully stepped into the living room, which was almost wallpapered with movie posters. "Who's the movie buff?" Mulder asked. "That would be me," Travis said. Mulder's eyes fell on the Twin Peaks poster in one corner. "Twin Peaks, huh? I loved that show," Mulder said. "Me too," Travis replied, feeling a little better since they were discussing a topic he was comfortable with. "I was sorry to see it canceled." "Yeah." "Could I get either of you a drink?" Travis asked, heading toward the small kitchen of the apartment. "I'm fine," Scully said, taking a seat on the sofa. "Nothing thanks," Mulder said, sitting down on the other end of the sofa. "Oh," Travis said. He walked over and sat down in the chair across from the sofa. This was the most frightened he'd been since...well, since he could remember. "Mister Dillon, could you tell us where you were on November Fourth?" Scully asked. "Uhh...what day of the week was that?" "Saturday. Two weeks ago," Mulder said. "I spent the day over at my friend Carl's apartment, then I came back here and hung out with my roommate," Travis said. He relaxed a little. If they were going to accuse him of something done that day, he was safe. He was with Alex and Carl all day. "Was Alex Rydell with you?" Scully asked. "Yeah, the whole time," Travis said. Why were they asking about Alex? "Is he in trouble?" "That's what we'd like to know," Mulder said. He pulled a videotape out of his trenchcoat and walked over to the TV and VCR. "May I?" "Sure," Travis said. Mulder played the surveillance tape. Travis watched it confused. Why were they showing this to him? The three guys on the tape kind of looked like him, Alex, and Carl, but it couldn't have been them. He would have remembered running from some crazy woman with long black hair and a laser. Long black hair and a laser. That was weird. He'd just typed that a few minutes earlier. Mulder stopped the tape. "Who were you running from, Travis?" Scully asked. "Me? That's not me. I admit it kind of looks like me, but I wasn't there. I swear." "We want to help you. If there's somebody with that kind of weapon after you, you're in great danger," Scully continued. "No, I'm not, because I'm not the guy on the tape," Travis insisted. "I think I'd remember something like that." "You don't remember this?" Mulder asked. "No." "Have you ever experienced missing time?" Mulder asked. "Mulder, I know where you're going with this, so stop," Scully said. "Many victims of alien abduction have memory loss and missing time," Mulder said. "Aliens don't usually go chasing their abductees through crowded shopping malls either, Mulder!" Scully said. "Aliens?" Travis said, almost laughing. "Is this some kind of joke?" "We are not joking, Mr. Dillon," Scully said. "There is a woman out there with a very dangerous weapon, and we have to find her." "I wish I could help you. I really do," Travis said. "Psychos like her definitely don't need to be carrying lasers, but I really wasn't there." "You're sure," Mulder said. "Positive." "Then, thank you for your time," Scully said, standing up and heading for the door. Mulder pulled a business card out of his coat and handed it to Travis. "If you should think of anything, call us," Mulder said. The two agents left the apartment. "Thanks for the waste of a trip, Mulder," Scully said as they walked back toward their car. "He was the one on that tape, Scully. I'm sure of it." "I believed him. I don't think he had a clue what we were talking about." "That doesn't mean that he wasn't there." "You aren't still on this alien abduction thing, are you?" "No. He doesn't show any of the other signs. But someone did erase his memory." "Who?" Scully said skeptically. "I don't know, but I have a feeling that either Travis Dillon, Alex Rydell, or Carl Jaroch has the key to this whole thing locked inside of his head. All we have to do is unlock it." Mulder turned and started walking in the other direction. "Where are you going?" Scully asked. "Lunch." Alex Rydell set his backpack down on a table in Webb cafeteria in the student center at Old Dominion and fell into a chair exhausted. Getting up early to talk with Travis this morning was catching up with him. He needed something with caffeine and fast. After checking to see how much cash he had on him, he decided to head down to the coffee shop at the end of Webb. "Alex Rydell?" a male voice asked from behind him just as he stood up. Alex turned around and saw a well dressed man and woman holding FBI IDs in front of him. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. This is my partner Dana Scully. We'd like to ask you a few questions." "Uhh...Okay," Alex said. "Is there somewhere more private we could go?" Scully asked. "Yeah. I was just waiting for my friends to get here." "Is Carl Jaroch among them?" Mulder asked. "He's one of my friends, but he's not coming to lunch. Why do you want Carl? What's going on?" "You are not in any trouble, Mister Rydell," Scully said. "We just need to talk to you and Mister Jaroch." "Alright. Let's go over toward the coffee shop. I needed some anyway." Alex picked his backpack back up and led Mulder and Scully down to the coffee shop. Travis and the others would just have to start lunch without him. After purchasing a large mug of coffee, Alex sat down in an empty part of the large lounge area located across from the coffee shop. Mulder and Scully took up positions in the two chairs facing the sofa he was sitting on. "Mister Rydell, two weeks ago, three college-aged males were chased through the Greenbriar Mall by a woman firing a laser gun of some type. She, in turn, was being chased by two other men." "Really? A laser. I didn't know about this." "We believe you do know something," Scully said. "How would I know anything?" "Because you were there," Mulder said, pulling a couple of photographs pulled from the surveillance tape out of his trenchcoat and handing them to Alex. Alex looked at the photos for a couple of minutes. They were black and white and a bit grainy, but it certainly looked like him and Travis and Carl. There was no way it could have been though. He would remember being chased through a mall by a strange woman firing laser blasts at him. His gaze fell on the two men who were chasing the woman. There was something very familiar about them, but Alex just couldn't place them. He shook off the feeling. It wasn't a great picture. There was no way that he could know those men. "That's not us," Alex said, handing the pictures back to Mulder. "Think hard, Mister Rydell," Mulder said. "Is there anything about this that might seem familiar? Do any of these people strike you?" "Yeah, those three guys who look like me, Travis, and Carl." "Other than them." "No. I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. And I'm pretty sure that I'd remember something like that." "Not if your memory was erased." "That's not possible," Alex said. "We don't know enough about how memory works to erase specific memories like that over such a long period." "Is that your expert opinion after a few college psychology classes?" Mulder asked. "Mulder," Scully said. "Thank you for your time, Alex. Here's my card if you should think of anything that could be of use." She handed Alex her card as he got up to head back to the cafeteria. "Thanks, but don't expect to hear from me," Alex said. "I don't know anything." Alex walked back into the main cafeteria and looked around for his friends. Travis had grabbed a lunch table and was sitting with Trina, Andrea, and Craig. The chair between Trina and Travis was empty waiting for Alex. He headed over to the table and sat down silently. "Are you okay?" Trina, his girlfriend, asked, concerned. "Yeah," Alex replied. "Don't worry about it." At that moment, Mulder and Scully sat down at a table a little ways away from theirs. Travis looked at them for a few moments, a look of concern filling his face. Alex noticed the look and followed Travis's gaze over to Mulder and Scully. "Are those two watching us?" Andrea said suddenly. "Who?" Craig asked. "The guy in the suit and the woman," Andrea replied. "What is it with us being watched by people in suits this month?" Craig said. "What do you mean?" Travis asked, confused. "Come on. You don't remember those two guys a few weeks ago who seemed to be watching you? They were in your apartment." "What guys?" Alex asked. "The building inspectors!" Craig said exasperated. "You caught them in your room. Travis, you knew one of them." "I have no idea what you're talking about," Travis said. "Me either," Alex said. "I don't believe this," Craig said. "You really don't remember?" Alex and Travis shook their heads. "You two need help." "I'm not sure that following them to lunch was such a great idea, Mulder," Scully said. "You're probably right," Mulder said. "So..." "So what?" "Why are we here?" "Watching them in their natural surroundings. Maybe we'll learn something." Thirty minutes later, when Alex, Travis, and the others got up to leave, all Mulder and Scully had learned was that Travis ate like a pig, the five of them talked about television a lot, and that Andrea had a physics test that day. "Well, that was productive," Scully said as she and Mulder walked out of Webb Center. "Actually it was," Mulder said. "How so?" "It proved to me that they really don't think they're in any danger," Mulder said. "But you still want to talk to Carl Jaroch anyway." "How'd you guess?" After an hour of trying to track Carl down, Mulder and Scully finally found out that Carl was working in a physics lab across the street from the main part of Old Dominion's campus. They found him hard at work in front of a computer working on some type of graph. The lab was fairly empty except for a large device gathering dust in a far corner of the room. "Carl Jaroch?" Scully said. Carl turned to look at them. "Yeah," Carl said. "Can I help you?" "We're with the FBI, Mister Jaroch," Mulder said, pulling out his ID. "I'm Agent Mulder. This is Agent Scully. We'd like to ask you a few questions about a disturbance in the Greenbriar Mall a couple of weeks ago." "Disturbance? What kind of disturbance?" "Three men were chased through the mall by a woman who was being chased by two other men." "Why do you want to ask me about it? I wasn't there." "Yes, you were," Mulder said, putting the pictures down in front of Carl. "No, I wasn't," Carl said. He looked at the pictures. "Sure looks like I was, though." "We believe that your memory of this incident has been erased," Mulder said. "Erased? By who?" "We don't know," Scully said. "We were hoping that you could tell us." "Have you ever been hypnotized?" Mulder asked. "No, not really," Carl said. "I would like to try hypnosis to attempt to get at this blocked memory." "You really think that I was there?" Carl said. "Yes, I do." Mulder replied. "Then, go ahead. If I was getting chased around, I'd really like to know about it." "Relax. Relax. You are becoming more deeply relaxed than you have ever been before. Going deeper and deeper until you are even more relaxed," Mulder said softly. "Can you hear me, Carl?" "Yes." "Good. Now, I want you to go back, Carl. Go back to a time when you are in great danger." Carl went back, back, back. Back to a time of great danger, just as he was instructed. Carl started shifting quickly in his seat as his expression became agitated. "What's happening, Carl?" Scully asked. "You will die, T'Mak!" Carl screamed suddenly leaping out of the chair. Mulder had sent him back too far, and now J'ter, the long dead warrior-prince of Yyns, was in control. "Mulder, what did you do?" "I have no idea," Mulder replied. "I'm not a professional hypnotist." "You will both perish, puny mortals!" Carl said. He grabbed Mulder by the trenchcoat and hurled him across the lab. Mulder hit the cement block wall with a thud and collapsed to the floor. "Calm down, Mister Jaroch," Scully said quickly. "You're safe." "There is no Carl, woman," Carl/J'ter said. "I am J'ter." "Mulder, I could use a little help over here." Scully only received a soft moan in response. "Carl!" a woman's voice shouted suddenly from the doorway. Scully turned and saw a tall redhead enter the room. She walked straight over to Carl and put her hands on the side of his head. "Come on, Carl. Calm down." The rage slowly disappeared from his expression. "Hi, beautiful," Carl said weakly. "What the hell were you doing?" the woman said, turning on Scully. "Trying to get some information," Scully said, showing the woman her ID. "Who are you?" "Lisa Jaroch. I'm his wife." Mulder groaned from across the room. Remembering her partner, Scully rushed over to help him up. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation later on this evening," Scully said. "You aren't going to try to hypnotize me again, are you?" Carl asked. "No. Definitely not," Mulder said. "Well, I'll be here in the lab until about eight tonight." "Then, we'll see you at six," Scully said. "Thank you for your time." She helped Mulder out of the lab. "What was that?" Scully asked as she and Mulder headed back to their car. "If I had to guess, I'd say we just hit a past life," Mulder said. "Does anything have a normal explanation for you?" "Not if I can help it." Travis Dillon put his duffle bag into the back seat of his Ford Escort and pulled the seat back so he could get in. Alex Rydell leaned up against the car as Travis pulled his keys out of his pocket. "See you in a couple of days," Travis said. "Say hi to Rachel for me," Alex said, referring to Travis's fiancee. "I will when I see her. She's got class tonight until ten, and then one of her clinical exams all day tomorrow." "I'm sure she's thrilled." "Oh yeah. Ecstatic," Travis said as he got into the car. "So what are you going to do?" "I figured I'd probably call Andy tonight. And something will probably pop up for tomorrow. Maybe the FBI will come raid Rachel's apartment or something." Alex laughed. "Wonderful thought," he said. "Have a good trip. See you Sunday." "Sunday it is," Travis said. He closed the car door and started the engine. Travis spent most of the two and a half hour drive back to Salisbury trying to remember anything connected with what Agents Mulder and Scully had told him. It was hard to believe that maybe he'd been there. Actually, it was beyond hard to believe, it was impossible. If there was one thing Travis knew, it was his mind. There was no way that he was at that mall. He laughed wondering how he even could have considered it. Nothing that interesting or exciting had ever happened to him. CHAPTER THREE FBI HEADQUARTERS - NORFOLK BRANCH MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1995 3:12 PM Scully set to work running background checks on the other people involved with the lives of Travis Dillon, Alex Rydell, and Carl Jaroch, hoping that she'd get lucky and find out that one of them had some kind of military background. She thought Craig Porter was the key since his father was Navy, but that quickly led to a dead end. She walked into the office Mulder had set up shop in a couple of hours later feeling like this whole case, if it could even be called that, was a waste of time. Mulder, on the other hand, looked like he'd found something, but he just didn't know what to make of it. "Take a look at this, Scully," he said, putting four pictures on the desk in front of her. Two of the pictures were taken from the surveillance tape and were of the two men chasing the dark haired woman. The other two seemed to be pictures of the same men, but not from the tape. "You found out who these guys are?" Scully said hopefully. "Maybe, but I don't think you're going to like the answer." "What do you mean?" "Those lower two pictures are of Travis Dillon and Alex Rydell," Mulder said. "What? That's impossible." "I aged Travis and Alex about ten years with the computer. This is what came out." "I don't even want to think about where this is going," Scully said. "Time travel, Scully," Mulder said. "Mulder, stop." "There's no other explanation." "There are about fifty other explanations, Mulder. The top one being that this is just a coincidence." "There are no coincidences." "I don't believe I'm listening to this." "Just think about it. Why else would there be that kind of laser technology, the memory wipes, and the fact that they disappeared without a trace?" "Fine, they're time travelers. Can we go home now?" "No way. I think I've got an idea what's going on now, and, if I'm right, Carl Jaroch is in great danger." "What kind of danger?" "I think that woman was from the future, and she's trying to kill him." "Why Carl? Why not Travis or Alex? "I'm not completely sure yet, but I'd bet that it has something to do with whatever he's working on." Mulder and Scully walked into Carl Jaroch's lab later that evening, after leaving the Norfolk FBI branch and having a quick dinner. Carl looked at them warily and turned off his computer. "Hello." Carl said flatly. "I would like to apologize for what happened earlier today," Mulder said. "Yeah, me too," Carl said. "I didn't mean to toss you across the room like that." "Don't mention it," Mulder said, rubbing his still sore shoulder. "Now why do you want to talk to me? I already told you that I'm not the guy in those photos." "I believe that you believe that, Mister Jaroch," Mulder said. "But I think that the evidence speaks to the contrary. I also think that you hold the key to this whole thing." "Me? I don't think so. I'm just a college student." "Have you developed any scientific theories or built any inventions?" Scully said, trying to play along with her partner's idea, but having a hard time sounding sincere. "I think I have the General Theory of Everything sitting around here somewhere," Carl said. "Seriously, I don't have anything, and the only thing I ever built didn't work right." He pointed at the large, dusty device in the corner. "What is it supposed to be?" Scully asked as Mulder walked over to examine it. "An electromagnetic telescope, but it didn't work. The image didn't make any sense. I tried looking toward Mercury and got a screen full of asteroid-looking chunks. It wasn't even close. I'm sure it wasn't really even space. I was getting gibberish." "Mind if I see?" Mulder asked. "I guess not," Carl said. He walked over to the box and moved it over to his lab table. After plugging it in, he flipped the power switch. Lights flickered across the face of the telescope as power hummed through its systems. "Has anyone else ever expressed an interest in this device?" Mulder asked after Carl turned it off. "No," Carl replied. "Well, Alex and Travis came to see it just after I finished it." "Why did they come by?" "I'm not sure, but they were very interested...especially Alex. I think I had a contact loose in the machine though." "What do you mean?" Scully asked. "Well, I left the room for a minute, and when I came back, Alex was on the floor babbling incoherently about Star Trek. I had to help Travis get him back to their apartment." "How did Travis react to this?" "Funny you should ask that. He wasn't real concerned. He just said that Alex would be fine once he got some sleep." "And you didn't ask him about this?" Mulder said. "No. Travis seemed confident everything was under control. He's not confident about a lot of things, so when he is, I tend to believe him." "I see. Thank you," Mulder said. He fell silent in thought for a moment trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. The telescope, time travelers, Travis and Alex, Alex's collapse. What did it all mean? Most X-files challenged his ability to form a theory, but this one was by far the most convoluted he had ever encountered. The time travel was a stretch in itself, but it was the only thing he had to go on, and it just felt right. Now, he just had to decide on the next step. "Thanks again for your time, Carl," Scully said. She tugged on Mulder's coat sleeve and headed toward the door. "Could you build another one of those devices?" Mulder asked. "Another one? Why would you want..." "Can you do it?" "Sure, I've got the plans on disk." "What if you didn't have the plans?" "Maybe, but I doubt it. Definitely not from memory." "I want you to turn that device and the plans disk over to me." "What are you doing, Mulder?" Scully said angrily. "Why do you want it?" Carl asked, annoyed. "It's for your own safety, and I've got the authority to take it. Hand it over." "Sure. Fine. Whatever," Carl said irritated. He flipped through his disk box and handed Mulder the plans disk. "Take the damn thing." Mulder picked up the telescope and left the lab followed by a confused and angry Dana Scully. "Would you tell me what the hell you are doing?" Scully demanded. "I don't know completely," Mulder said. "But every instinct I have is telling me that this supposedly non- working telescope is at the center of this." "You're taking a bunch of unrelated events and forming some bizarre conspiracy theory, Mulder." "I don't think so, Scully," Mulder said. "And I have a feeling that the next couple of days will prove me right." PART II: THE KICKOFF CHAPTER FOUR THE DELTA QUADRANT STARSHIP AEROSTAR NOVEMBER 20, 2374 6:55 PM Captain's Log, Stardate 51621.7. We have been holding position in an anomalous gas cloud for more than a day now, trying to pick up transmissions from a Flarn science vessel that has taken orbit around a moon in the Tervellan system, which is, by treaty, Sulani property. We have been sent to determine the extent of the threat that this ship poses. Addendum for personal log, Needless to say, after spending seven hours pacing the bridge, I'm quite ready to retire to the holodeck for my dinner date with Counselor Peterman. We'll be joining Lt. Commander Richards and Doctor Browning for what Richards says is a "special surprise." Captain Andy Baxter winked at himself as he straightened his tie. Richards had asked that they all wear period outfits, and Baxter had decided on an early twentieth century suit, similar to the type worn by the American Mafia in the nineteen twenties. The computer referenced it as a "zoot" suit. Baxter straightened his tie, watching Counselor Kelly Peterman sneak up behind him and wrap her arms around him. "Gotcha," she giggled. Baxter smiled. "That's my Kelly, always surprising me." Peterman continued to look over Baxter's shoulder. "Well, are you ready? I told Janice we'd be there at 1900 hours." "As ready as I'll ever be." Baxter said, turning around and smiling. He looked over Peterman's glittery flapper dress and boa with enjoyment. "Nice." "Thanks." Peterman said, offering her arm to Baxter. Baxter took Peterman's arm and led her out of his quarters. Baxter and Peterman walked down the corridor towards the holodeck in virtual silence. "So what did you do today?" Baxter asked, breaking the silence. "Nothing spectacular." Peterman said. "I just met with a few appointments. A schizophrenic, a multiple personality, an obsessive compulsive, and a claustrophobic." Baxter shook his head. "I didn't realize we had so many nut cases on board." Peterman just laughed. "What ship have you been on for the last eight months?" "I ask myself that same question every day." Baxter said as they came to the holodeck door. "Hey, guys." Doctor Browning said. She was twirling her hair and chewing gum, which somehow seemed to complement the poodle skirt she wore. For his part, Richards was wearing a shiny, baby blue silk suit, from the mid nineteen hundreds, approximately the fifties. "Shall we?" Richards asked, gesturing at the holodeck doors. The group filed through the holodeck doors into a world far removed from that of the Aerostar and the Delta Quadrant. Baxter was immediately stricken by the appearance of the Maitre d'. He was a short man, with dark hair, and a small, dark mustache. "Adolph Hitler at your service," the short man said, bowing. "Four for dinner?" Baxter looked at the man in astonishment. "What kind of restaurant is this?" Richards smiled and looked down at the Fascist dictator. "Welcome to 'Continuum'. The only restaurant that features a full cast of historical and cultural personalities as its staff." "Hmm, the ultimate theme-restaurant," Counselor Peterman said half-heartedly. "Aryan or non-Aryan?" Hitler asked impatiently. "Um..." Baxter said, looking around the restaurant. "Just say Aryan, Andy." Richards warned. "Trust me." "Ha ha. Just give us a booth, Adolph." Baxter said with exasperation. Hitler led the group to a booth and handed them their menus. "Your server will be here momentarily, please enjoy your meal. Seig Heil." "Same to you," Baxter said, gesturing for Peterman to take a seat and sliding into the booth next to her. "Isn't this a nice place?" Browning asked, scooting into place across from Peterman. Peterman looked around, noticing a small stage in one corner of the room that featured beheadings from the French Revolution. "It's very...interesting." "I thought you'd like it." Richards said, eyeing the low cut on Joan of Arc's armor. "What about you, Andy?" Baxter was intently looking at his menu. "This is extremely bizarre. I wonder how the Hindenburg souffl is?" "A disaster, dear, simply a disaster," a woman said, walking up to the table. "Joan Collins!" Peterman exclaimed. "I loved your movies." Collins smiled. "Why, thank you. I'd like to think they made a long-lasting effect on the ages." "Give me a break," Baxter muttered, still staring at his menu. Peterman nudged the Captain with her elbow. "Hey, don't insult the waitress!" "Honey, I'm not a waitress, I am an actress," Collins huffed. "Sure, sure, Joan. Could I see a wine list?" Baxter asked. "Of all the..." Collins cried, running off. "There goes her tip," Baxter mumbled, continuing to look at his menu. "I think I'll have the Voyage to the Bottom of the Seafood Chowder." Richards looked to Browning. "Have you decided yet, hon?" "I don't know. The Chicken a la King Louis sounds extremely good. I'm so hungry I could eat sixteen of them." "Well, I'm getting the Irish Potato Famine," Richards said, putting his menu down. "Here's your damn wine list." Joan Collins said, returning to the table. "So are you guys ready to order or not?" "I think so," Baxter said, looking to Counselor Peterman. "Have you decided what you want, pookie?" Peterman stared at her menu. "I think I'll have the Post Atomic Hamburger." Collins pulled out a notepad and chomped on a piece of gum. "Good choice, sweetie. Would you like that Chernobyl or Three-mile Island?" "Medium," Peterman said with confusion. She was never very good at history. "Three-mile Island it is." Dr. Browning made her order and handed her menu to the former movie star. "I have to go to the bathroom. Are you coming, Kelly?" Browning asked, indicating the general direction of the bathroom. "Uhh, sure, I guess." Peterman replied. "It's just not working." Doctor Browning said, with tears welling up in her eyes as Counselor Peterman followed her into the ladies' room. "That's just not true, Janice!" Peterman said, checking her makeup in the mirror. She really did look good. "I think this is a charming restaurant." Browning grabbed a handful of paper towels and locked herself in a stall, sitting down on the toilet and sobbing. "I'm talking about Christopher" Browning finally said through sobs, using the towels to blow her nose. "Richards?" Peterman asked. "YES!" Browning said with exasperation. "But you guys look so happy together!" Peterman said, reapplying her lipstick. Doctor Browning looked down at the tiled floor. "Sure we look happy. That doesn't mean we are happy." "So you're fighting?" "No, we've never really fought," Browning said, looking around at the interior of the stall. She noticed a few messages carved into the interior wall of the stall. Phrases like "Churchill was here", and "For a good time, call Josephine Bonaparte." "So what's the problem?" "The first few weeks were fun, but since then, it's like we're a married couple. All the fun, the romance, the excitement ...it's gone!" "This is a tough one," Peterman said worriedly. "And what's worse, we're known throughout the ship as the first human couple to get together in the Delta Quadrant. Do you know what that means? We're supposed to be perfect! We have to make everyone think that we're happy together, and we're not. It's like they need something meaningless like that to hold on to, so they can ignore the fact that we're seventy thousand light years from home." "If you're not happy together, you can't be thinking of what everyone else will think," Counselor Peterman said, once Browning had stopped rambling long enough to continue her sobbing. "How does Chris feel about all this?" "He doesn't feel anything! It's like he couldn't care one way or the other." "I'm sure he cares, Janice." Browning stepped out of the stall, staring at her tear- streaked face in the mirror. "I don't know what he feels any more. I don't even know how I feel." "I don't know what to tell you, Janice." Peterman said. "You're usually the one counseling me." "Well, Kelly, you are the counselor, you know." Browning said, splashing some water in her face and drying off. "All right. This is what you do. Sit down with Commander Richards and tell him how you feel. Tell him exactly what you told me, and tell him you want to either work on the relationship or give up on it. It's that simple." Browning quickly checked her makeup and headed for the door of the bathroom. "If it was that simple, I wouldn't be having this problem." "Well, are your noses all powdered now?" Baxter asked as Peterman and Browning took their seats, standing up with Richards in order to let them back into the booth. "None of your business." Peterman said firmly. "Where's the food?" "It should be here any minute." Richards said. "But you guys just missed the Beatles." "Oh, darn." Browning said, staring down at the table, as if she was trying to think of something to say. Peterman took the cue and grabbed Baxter's arm. "Gee, Andy, why don't you come over to the bar with me. Maumar Khadafi is the bartender." "Oh, really?" Baxter said, following Peterman out of the booth. "This I've got to see." Just as Dr. Browning was about to open her mouth, the ship's communication system chirped. "Commander Conway to Holodeck Two. We've picked up some activity from the Flarn ship." "Damn," Baxter said. "We'll be right there. Go to Yellow Alert." "I better get down to engineering." Richards said, sliding out of the booth. "But...I really needed to talk to you, Chris..." Browning protested. "Later," Richards said, heading out of the holodeck. "Bye, honey." Baxter said, kissing Counselor Peterman on the cheek. When he did, he whispered in her ear, "Is there something going on with Richards and Browning, or is it just my imagination?" "I'll tell you later," Peterman whispered back, holding on to Baxter's fingers as he moved off toward the holodeck arch. "We're doomed," Browning said, propping her elbows up on the table and putting her head in her hands. "It's over." "Jeeze." Peterman said. "I think that's the first time I've heard someone say that without fearing for my life." "Why don't I find that any comfort?" Browning asked, briefly looking up from her hands. "What have you got, Lieutenant?" Commander Conway asked, peering over Lt. Ariel Tilleran's shoulder. Tilleran studied her panel. "I'm not sure. Hold on...they're just dumping their garbage." Still in his zoot suit, Captain Baxter stepped onto the bridge. "Garbage?" He asked, walking around to the front of the bridge and staring at the ship on the viewscreen with scrutiny. "Yes, sir, waste products, disposable materials..." Baxter looked back at Tilleran, annoyed. "I know what garbage is, Lieutenant, but why did they decide to dump it right at this moment?" "Their refuse hold was full?" Tilleran offered helpfully. "I've been in one of those things before, Lieutenant, they're pretty damn big." Baxter replied. "I think there's more to this picture than meets the eye. I want you to zoom in on that ship." Tilleran pressed a few buttons. "What are we looking for?" "That." Baxter said triumphantly, pointing his finger to a small, moving dot on the viewscreen. "Close in on this dot, maximum magnification." When the screen flickered again, Baxter smiled. "There you go." Conway just grunted, walking to the front of the bridge. "And what exactly are we looking at?" Baxter smiled. "A probe. Big enough, even, to conceal a shield generator...possibly even a garrison of troops." Larkin studied her panel and made a few calculations. "I am having trouble getting any readings on the probe, Captain...there seems to be a jamming field in place." "Do you think they were expecting us?" Ford asked uncomfortably from the helm. "I wouldn't doubt it." Baxter's face was now clouded with worry. "I want a secure channel to Sulan. We've found what we were looking for." Baxter said, looking back at Lt. J'hana. J'hana let out a low growl from the tactical station. "Communications are blocked, sir. The jamming field seems to be large enough to encompass most of the system." Conway looked at the panel near his chair. "How can that little ship produce a jamming field of that magnitude?" "Maybe that ship isn't the one producing the field." Ford said helpfully. "Then..." Baxter said, now even more worried. "Flarn warship off the port bow!" J'hana suddenly barked. "Red alert." Baxter said, returning to his seat. "All hands to battle stations." "The science vessel is leaving the system sir, and the warship has made an intercept course for our position." Larkin said. "How the hell could we have missed a ship that big?" Conway asked. "Apparently," Larkin replied, "they were hiding on the opposite side of the planet Tervel." "Get us out of here, Mr. Ford," Baxter commanded. "Aye, sir," Ford replied, touching a control at the helm. "We can't exactly make a hasty retreat, sir. In addition to being a good hiding place, this gas cloud is extremely volatile. If we use the impulse engines, the whole thing could blow." "Then steer us out of the cloud, in the opposite direction of the Flarn vessel, maximum thrusters," Baxter replied. "And I'll welcome any suggestions on how to handle that Flarn ship." "Maybe we can use the gas cloud to our advantage." Lt. Tilleran offered. "That's the stupidest..." Conway began. "No, she's right," Baxter suddenly said. "Ready aft torpedoes, Lt. J'hana." "Yes, sir." J'hana said, happy for the chance of some real combat. "What exactly are you planning on doing?" Conway asked, now turning to Baxter. "You'll see. Larkin, what's the distance of that warship?" Baxter asked. "Forty thousand kilometers and closing fast, sir," Larkin replied. "Can they steer around the cloud?" Baxter asked. "Negative. Because of the cloud's size, they would not be able to intercept us before we reached the other side." Larkin said. "Good. Then they'll have to enter the cloud." "So?" Commander Conway asked. "So, all we have to do is blow up the cloud," Baxter said, smiling triumphantly. "Are you nuts? You'd be..." "Lighting the biggest fart in the galaxy," Baxter finished, smiling even broader. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Conway grumbled. Ford shook his head. "Well, stupidity has gotten us this far." "The Flarn warship has entered the cloud. They will be within our weapons range in thirteen seconds," J'hana announced. "One question," Lt. Tilleran asked. "What's to stop us from getting blown apart along with the Flarn vessel?" "Fate," Baxter announced finally. "We are now within weapons range," J'hana said from tactical. "They will undoubtedly wait for us to clear the cloud before firing," Larkin stated. "Yeah, by then they'd be right on top of us and we wouldn't be able to escape," Tilleran continued. Baxter stood up and strolled over to the helm control, resting his hands on the back of Ford's chair. "Listen carefully, Ensign. As soon as I give J'hana the order to fire, I want you to hit the warp engines." Tilleran raised an eyebrow. "Sir? Are you sure that's a good idea? We don't know what effects a warp field will have on this type of anomalous gas cloud." "Do we know what effect Flarn antiproton beams will have on our ship?" Baxter asked, glaring at Tilleran in annoyance. Tilleran sank a couple of inches behind her station. "Good point, sir." "Glad you see it my way. Fire torpedoes, J'hana." J'hana stabbed the aft torpedo control, sending two gleaming red torpedoes streaking through space towards the pursuing Flarn ship, leaving a trail of exploding gasses in their wake. "Now, Mister Ford!" Baxter shouted, as the Aerostar pitched forward in the torpedoes' fiery wake. The Aerostar's nacelles glowed blue as it stretched forward, leaping through space. As the ship engaged into warp, the gas cloud exploded in a bright wash of light, causing the Aerostar's warp field to momentarily fluctuate. "Something's wrong!" Lt. Tilleran shouted, as the ship's superstructure whined and screamed around them, and sparks exploded from nearby panels. "Richards to bridge. The engines are malfunctioning. I can't maintain a warp field. What the hell is going on?" "I'll let you know as soon as I find out, Richards," Baxter shouted, trying to maintain his balance. "Divert power to the structural integrity field...try to...!" "We're caught up in a wormhole!" Tilleran suddenly shouted. "We've fractured space!" "Now you've done it, Baxter!" Conway shouted, as the Aerostar bucked one more time for good measure, tearing its way through space and time. Doctor Browning finished off the last piece of Chicken a la King Louis, patting her stomach with satisfaction. "Eating always makes me feel better." "Obviously. You ate half a pound of chicken," Peterman noted, playing around with the lettuce on her plate with a fork. "You must feel a hell of a lot better." "Well, I wouldn't go that far. I do, however, feel like having a nice long talk with Chris. Maybe we can sort out..." Suddenly there was a rumble, as the ship rocked, and the holodeck scene began to flicker, being replaced by the static orange and black grid. "What the hell is happening?" Peterman asked, looking around. "I don't know..." Browning replied, standing up. "But I have to get to sickbay. Whatever it is, it probably means casualties." Peterman followed Browning out of the holodeck just as another severe jolt shook through the ship, throwing her forward into a bulkhead. After that, everything went black. CHAPTER FIVE SALISBURY, MD MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1995 7:05 PM "I saw her again, Andy." Dave said over the telephone, in his usual tone of extreme annoyance. Andy Baxter leaned back in his chair and stretched, holding the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he continued to work on the Philosophy paper that was due the next day. "Saw who?" "That woman! The one we saw when I had that table at the flea market! The one that wouldn't shut up. I tell you, Andy, she's stalking us!" "That's ridiculous, Dave, and you know it. She's just a lonely lady who found a couple young, handsome guys that shared her interests." "Yeah, right. Well, if I see her at Wal-Mart again, I'm going to call security," Conway said. "Do whatever you want. Hey, by the way...did the new figures come out yet?" "The ones from 'Voyager'? No, not yet." "Oh. I wonder when they'll get around to releasing those?" "I don't know. Are you going to watch 'Voyager' tonight?" "I don't think so, I'm going to finish this paper and get some sleep. I have a 9:30 class tomorrow morning," Baxter replied. "Suit yourself. It's supposed to be a good episode tonight." "Yeah, right. I don't even really like 'Voyager'. It's the most unrealistic Star Trek series yet. I mean, how likely is it that a starship could be tossed halfway across the galaxy by some strange phenomenon?" Captain Baxter winced in pain as he lifted himself up off the deck. "Status report?" he asked, looking around the bridge. His people were strewn about the deck, half conscious, all moaning in pain as the ship drifted, God knew where, through space. The emergency lighting cast a dim glow on the only fully functioning member of Baxter's bridge crew. Lt. Larkin studied her panel. "My systems were momentarily thrown off by the space-time flux. However, it seems that we have undergone a quantum sub-space displacement of great magnitude." "And that means..." Lt. Tilleran pulled herself up, wiping the soot from the burnt out relay that sparked nearby off of her science panel, and stared down at the readouts in shock. "I don't believe it. We're home. The Alpha Quadrant, sector zero- zero-one." By this time, the rest of the bridge crew had once again taken their stations, most of them nursing small injuries. "Home..." Baxter collapsed into his chair. "Is it possible?" "So it would seem," Larkin said, looking over her readings. Ensign Ford rubbed the cut on his forehead and surveyed his helm control. "There has to be a catch somewhere...I mean..." He stopped. "Wait a minute. These readings are all wrong." "There's a good reason for that," Lt. Tilleran said, drawing the bridge crew's attention towards her station at the rear of the bridge. "And what's that?" Baxter finally asked. "We've also experienced a time displacement." "Oh, shit," Conway said. Baxter held up a hand. "Wait a minute, maybe it's not that bad. Where in time have we been thrown to?" "Three hundred seventy-eight years into the past," Tilleran said slowly. "I guess shore leave is out of the question," Ensign Ford finally said. An hour later, the senior staff of the Starship Aerostar gathered in the conference lounge, in a futile attempt to make some sort of sense out of their new plight. Lt. Larkin stood at the front of the room, pointing to a schematic of the Tervellan gas cloud, indicating the cause of their mysterious jump. "As you can see here, our warp field caused a rip in the fabric of time space, causing a temporary worm hole to be formed, joining this point in time space with our own. Also note the considerable..." Unfortunately, no one was able to hear Larkin over the din of voices that echoed throughout the room. Captain Baxter stood at the head of the table, trying to gain some semblance of control over the meeting, finally slamming his hands down on the table and shouting, "ENOUGH!" Everyone at the table, Conway, J'hana, Richards, Browning, Peterman, Tilleran, and Ford shut up and looked at the Captain. "You wanted to say something, Captain?" Conway asked, his face creased with annoyance. "I wanted to say..." Baxter began, "that arguing won't go any farther towards getting us back to our own time." "That's just the thing, though," Conway said. "I've talked to some people, and many of them think we should just stay here." "You're kidding," Browning said, looking at Conway with amazement. "We can't just show up on Earth and ask for a couple hundred rooms at the Holiday Inn!" "I never said anything about going to Earth. Some of the crew think that we should just go to another planet. Vulcan, or Bajor, or some other planet that's near our level of technology. We could explain our situation and ask for help. Maybe they could even help us get home." "That's not an option," Baxter said finally. "Well, maybe it should be. I think some people would be happy enough just being back in the Alpha quadrant. You know, find a peaceful out of the way planet to settle down on," Conway said. "Is that how you feel, Mr. Conway?" Baxter asked angrily. "Of course not, I'm just saying..." "No, we will not lie down like dogs." J'hana said, causing everyone to look in her direction. "To settle down, so far from success, would be unacceptable. I would be forced to commit ritual suicide." "Look, no one's committing ritual anything here," Baxter said. "We're going to find a reasonable way out of this, I promise all of you." "Why not just slingshot around the sun and go back to our time?" Ensign Ford asked. Baxter shrugged, looking back to Larkin. "Well, Lieutenant?" Larkin inclined her head a moment in thought. "Our scanners indicate that although we are, in effect, in the past, we are in an alternate past, one that is intimately in contact with our own future. To more succinctly state a lengthy narrative..." "Too late." Dr. Browning said quietly. "...we would be traveling to a future that is not our own. However, what we do in this timeline will have an effect on our own future." "Damned if we do, damned if we don't," Ford muttered. "However," Larkin noted, "I do believe it is possible to re-open the now dormant wormhole and return our place and time in the Delta Quadrant." "Providing that the wormhole is still open on the other end," Tilleran said. "Good. I want you to get to work on that, Lieutenant Larkin," Baxter said. "I'll help," Tilleran offered. "Excellent. Mr. Richards, how long until repairs are completed?" Lt. Richards thumbed through the small padd he had with him. "Not long, sir. Main power was compromised when we went through the disturbance, so we'll have to re-align the warp field and re-initialize the core, but other than that, we got through this relatively safely." "Tell that to Peterman," Browning muttered. "She has a bump the size of a tribble on her head." "I'm fine, really," Peterman said, looking around. "Really, I'm okay." "That's good to know, sweetie," Baxter said. "In the meantime, though, I want you to compose a status report for the crew. One that will put their minds at ease and keep them from going nuts over this. The last thing we need is everyone losing their cool." "Well, what exactly am I supposed to say?" "Think of something," Baxter said, turning to Dr. Browning. "What about casualties?" "Well, other than Peterman's head, just a few cuts and bruises," Browning said. "Great, well...if that's all..." Baxter said, standing up. "Captain..." Ford said. "What is it, Ensign?" Baxter asked. "Do you think I could do Titan's turn...just for old time's sake?" "No," Baxter said flatly, heading out of the conference room. "Dismissed." Dr. Browning followed Lt. Commander Richards to the turbolift that would take them from the bridge to their respective places. Once the lift doors closed and it began to move, Browning cleared her throat. "So, Chris." Richards looked over at her. "What?" "I was just wondering, you know, how you were." "I'm fine," Richards said, resuming his intense study of the turbolift door. "Computer, halt turbolift," Browning said angrily. "Why did you do that?" Richards asked. "This is senseless, Chris! Why can't we just be adults about this?" "About what? I don't know what you're talking about." Browning just shook her head. "That's just it. You don't know anything! You don't think about anything! You don't care about anything!" "That's not true," Richards protested. "Well, then...what did we do on our last date?" "We went to the 'Continuum'." "I mean the one before that one." Richards thought a moment. "Uhh, I think we had dinner in the Starlight lounge...and we watched that movie Mirk showed." "That was the second to last date we had. The last date we had was the parachuting trip on the holodeck. Remember? We went with Baxter and Peterman. Andy almost got attacked by an M-113 Salt Vampire. Remember those rough trade winds?" "Oh, yeah. I knew that!" Richards said. "I don't see what you're all ticked off about." Browning slumped up against the turbolift wall. "I don't know." "Well when you find out, tell me. Until then, I have work to do," Richards said, turning away from the Doctor. "Computer, resume turbolift." "So Janice thinks that Chris doesn't care about her. She thinks there's nothing left in the relationship," Peterman said, sitting on the desk in Baxter's readyroom. "Thank goodness they got replicators back up, I was getting really thirsty," Baxter said as he carried a cold glass of grapefruit juice to his desk. "Well, what do you think?" Peterman asked. "About what?" Baxter replied. "Chris and Janice!" Peterman said. "Oh, them. They have to sort out things themselves. If the relationship is over, then it's over. They have to decide that, hon." Peterman shook her head. "I don't buy that for a minute. If they had followed that advice, we may not be together now. They can't just break up." Baxter sighed. "I'm afraid they can, Kelly. Listen, I know you want to help Chris and Janice. Well, they're my friends too, and if they're unhappy in a relationship, they should get out of it." Peterman walked around the desk and wrapped her arms around the Captain. "I know. I just get scared when I see a relationship like theirs in trouble. I mean, what if something like that happened to us?" Baxter pulled Peterman into his lap. "Never." Peterman smiled, snuggling closer to Baxter. "Good. Promise me that then. Promise me, no matter what happens out there, we'll never lose each other." Baxter kissed Peterman's cheek. "I promise." "Captain...we're nearing Earth," came Conway's voice over the comm. "I have to go to work now, hon," Baxter said, "And you need to get down and start composing that message for the crew. They're probably storming the bridge as we speak." Peterman got up and followed Baxter out onto the bridge. "Yes, sir. I'll see you tonight?" Baxter sighed again. "I hope so." Peterman smiled at Baxter as the turbolift doors closed, and the lift descended towards her office on Deck Eight. Baxter headed back to Lt. Tilleran's station. "What have you got for me, Lieutenant?" "I'm picking up multiple warp signatures, for one thing. Three are pretty recent, only about two weeks old. And one is very faint--about ten years old, which I've identified as a Bird of Prey, from Captain Kirk's voyage back to the 1980's." "Oh, yeah, the whale thing," Baxter said. "What about the others?" "No idea. I think they both came from Federation starships though, one small one, and the other significantly larger." "Maybe those incidences occurred since we left the Alpha Quadrant," Conway offered. "Or, they could have come from far into our future. Anything is possible." Baxter rubbed his eyes. "I hate time travel. I hate it to death...in any case, Lieutenant Tilleran, I need you to jam whatever sensing devices Earth has. If they pick us up, we could seriously contaminate the time stream." "I've got the EM bands filled with noise, sir. They'll probably think we're a far off pulsar, if they detect us at all." "What about that space telescope they have? The Huddle or something. They had that in the nineteen-nineties didn't they?" Tilleran smiled. "I've accounted for that as well. I've had Ensign Ford adjust our course so that we are out of the telescope's line of sight at all times. We should probably take up a geocentric position on the dark side of the moon just to be on the safe side." "Very good," Baxter said. "Make it so." Baxter walked around to the command area, where Commander Conway was looking over some scans. "Seems we have to be extra careful today, Captain. The Discovery is out there." "You don't say," Baxter said, rubbing his chin. "What's the Discovery?" Ensign Ford asked, turning around. Larkin looked up from her panel. "The Space Shuttle Discovery. A Twentieth Century Earth ship, built by the United States National Aeronautics and Space Administration. It was quite primitive by our standards, but it represented the pinnacle of Earth technology at the time." "They had to pee in their space suits!" Baxter said with amusement. "Yeah...at least they have an excuse, Ford--there were no bathrooms," Conway said wryly. Ford was about to reply when Lt. Tilleran suddenly yelped in shock. "Something to report, Miss Tilleran?" Baxter asked, turning back to look at the science officer. "I don't believe it, Captain." Tilleran said, her voice filled with surprise. "Believe what?" Baxter asked. "I think I have an explanation for one of those warp signatures. I'm reading a Starfleet power source down on Earth." Andy Baxter pulled his Ford Bronco into the parking lot of Travis Dillon's apartment complex and hopped out of the car, slamming the door. He really felt bad about putting off finishing the philosophy paper in order to go hang out at Travis's, but he figured that he would only hang out there an hour or so, then get back to the dorm at ten...leaving him plenty of time to finish it. "Hey, Andy. Come on in," Travis said, welcoming Baxter into the apartment. "I haven't finished unpacking, so things are still kind of a mess." Baxter laughed, leaning down and patting Travis's poodle, Lady, on the head. "That's okay, it's a lot cleaner around here than Brian's side of the room." "I thought you said Brian was a pretty good roomate?" Travis said, getting he and Baxter a can of soda from the fridge. Baxter opened the can and took a quick gulp. "I never said anything about him being neat. You can actually see where my side of the room starts and his ends." Travis chuckled at this. "Me and Alex never had that problem. We're both slobs." "I've seen worse. So how is old Alex?" "Old Alex is fine," Travis said, plopping down on the couch and surfing through the channels. "Boy, what depths will UPN sink to next? They're having Kate Mulgrew from 'Voyager' guest star on 'Moesha'." "Nothing that network does surprises me any more. So, what's been going on the last few weeks?" Travis seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Gee, not much. I took a couple midterms, hung out with Carl, Alex, Trina, and Andrea. Nothing that exciting. How about your friends...Dave, Chris, Janice...how are they all doing?" "Well, you know how Dave is, he's as neurotic as ever. And Chris and Janice...I guess they're doing as well as can be expected." "Give them time. They have a lot to deal with. So how about you? How's the first semester of school, Mr. Freshman?" "Hmm. I guess it's going okay. I thought college would be more of an...adventure." "College is whatever you make it, my friend," Travis replied mystically. Baxter took another swig of his Pepsi. "I guess you're right, Travis. You just have to take things as they come." CHAPTER SIX FBI HEADQUARTERS - NORFOLK BRANCH MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1995 7:45 PM "What to you make of this thing, Dr. Cross? Is it an evil alien weapon, or part of Mattel's new Christmas line?" Mulder asked with a grin, as he and Scully bent over the strange contraption they had confiscated from young Carl Jaroch earlier that afternoon. They had hooked it up and switched its power supply on. Dr. Benjamin Cross, the head of technological research and development at the Norfolk branch of the FBI studied the machine with intense interest. "It's hard to say, exactly, Agent Mulder. It's definitely designed to act as an electromagnetic telescope, but the configuration is all wrong. And this picture we're getting is completely wrong for the area of space I'm targeting. It's also putting off a lot of radiation, and I can't understand why." "Is it dangerous?" Scully asked with concern on her face. "Oh, no, it's not even radiation, per se, more like concentrated particles. Perhaps neutrinos, quarks, or some other microscopic particles. They're definitely not harmful to us, but I can't even begin to understand what this device's true function is." "That's what we have to find out, Doctor," Mulder said gravely. "I'll keep running tests, and let you guys know if anything else turns up in the morning." "Thanks, Doctor," Mulder said, heading out of the lab, with Scully hot on his tail. "So, it emits microscopic particles, what does that prove?" Scully asked. "Only that there's more to this thing than meets the eye. A lot more," Mulder said, as they rode the elevator to the ground floor. "So what's our next step?" Mulder stopped his stride out to the parking lot just long enough to flash Scully a quick smile. "Tonight we're going to get some sleep. Then tomorrow, we're going shopping." "It's a shuttle alright. From the USS Defiant. Its power systems are on standby mode, but it is undamaged," Lt. Tilleran reported from the science console. "How the hell did one of the Defiant's shuttles get there?" Conway asked with amazement. "Good question. One I'd sure as hell like to know the answer to." Baxter said, staring at the tiny shuttle on the viewscreen. "I'm trying to access the shuttle's databanks now, sir," Tilleran said, concentrating on her panel. "Hmmm. That's strange...the shuttle's power systems have been locked out. I can't do anything from here." "Then we're going down there. Have Mr. Richards meet us in Transporter Room One," Baxter said with resolve, heading for the turbolift. Conway followed him. "You can't be serious. You're not going down there!" "I sure as hell am. There's a Federation shuttlecraft parked in a forest, in Norfolk Virginia, in 1995, and I want to know why." "What if you do something to screw up the time stream! You could get us all wiped off the face of time!" Baxter stared down at Conway with annoyance. "The time stream's already fucked. What if some kid jumps in that shuttle and figures out how to operate it? I'd like to see the United States government explain that one." "Well, if you insist on going down there, Captain, I'm going to have to insist I go down there with you, First Officer's prerogative." "And why is that?" "Because I feel the Captain's life may be in jeopardy." Baxter laughed. "Oh, that's rich. That's really rich. Fine, fine. You can come along. But just remember, I'm heading up this away team." Conway nodded, following Tilleran and the Captain into the turbolift. "Whatever you say, sir." Baxter glared at Conway as the lift doors closed. "Larkin, you have the bridge." "All hands, this is your Ship's Counselor, Kelly Peterman. I'm here to help clarify some of the news you are no doubt spreading among yourselves. Let's see, how should I put this...we've traveled back in time four hundred years..." Peterman shook her head and switched off the recorder. "Nope, too blunt." Suddenly there was a beep at her door. "Come on in." Peterman said half-heartedly, staring at the screen of her terminal, as if it might explain exactly how she would break the news of the Aerostar's latest plight to the crew. "Hey," Dr. Browning said, plopping down on the couch next to Peterman's desk. "Wow, nice office." "Thanks. Why are you here?" Peterman asked, walking around to the chair next to the couch. "Chris and Andy went down to the surface. Something about bringing back some Federation technology found down there." "Federation technology? On Earth in the twentieth century? How odd." Peterman said. "Not as odd as you think. I did some research. It turns out that Starfleet vessels and crews have had a lot more run-ins with the twentieth century than you might think." "That so?" Peterman asked, trying to decide how to add this latest news to her shipwide announcement. "Yeah. They've visited the twenties, the forties, the sixties, the eighties, and most recently, the nineties." "Wow, that's close to the point in time we came back to. What happened?" "It involved the Secondprize. Captain Rydell had his brain switched with an ancestor of his in the year 1993. It had something to do with an electromagnetic telescope that one of Rydell's ancestor's friends had invented." "How weird." "Tell me about it. The twentieth century Earth is a pretty screwed up place, and the two people we care about most are down there right now. And there's nothing we can do to help them." "Don't worry, Janice. I'm sure Chris and Andy will be fine. What's the worst that can happen?" "Ask Captain Rydell, Kelly," Browning replied. "Okay, everyone, let's make this quick," Captain Baxter said, as soon as he and the rest of the away team materialized in the secluded forest in which the Defiant's shuttle had been found. "Get up, Conway," he added. Commander Conway had bent down to kiss the soil as soon as he had materialized. Upon hearing Baxter's command, he immediately stood up and brushed himself off. "Sorry, sir. It's just good to be back." "Well, don't get used to it. We won't be here long," Baxter said, switching on his wrist beacon. "Hopefully," Tilleran added, switching on her own wrist beacon and moving forward through the foliage. "The shuttle is right this way." The group walked quietly through the forest, taking in the surroundings. "Norfolk, Virginia," Richards repeated to himself. "I think I was here, once." "My home town is only a hundred or so kilometers from here." Baxter said, as he pushed through the branches. "A little town called Salisbury, Maryland." "How quaint," Conway said, bringing up the rear. "Shut up and keep moving, Conway," Baxter said, continuing to push through the foliage. "Here it is!" Tilleran ran a few feet ahead to where the tiny microshuttle rested between two, large, rotten oak trees. Baxter knelt down and shined his light on the numbers scrawled on the side of the shuttle. "'NX-74205'. It's from the Defiant all right. Can you get in there Lieutenant?" Tilleran studied the small panel near the shuttle's hatch. "The entry code has been encrypted, sir. The tricorder should be able to break down the code in a matter of minutes." Meanwhile, Conway bent down to pick up something that had caught his eye, a few feet from the shuttle. "What do you make of this, Captain?" Baxter studied the translucent, oblong object. "Looks like a container of some sort. 'Milualkee's Best.' I wonder what that is?" Conway smelled the container and immediately took it away from his nose, the disgust plain on his face. "It's definitely beer, sir. And from the smell of it, not very good beer." "So someone has been here since the shuttle landed," Baxter said, shaking his head. "It's amazing that the authorities aren't crawling all over this place," Richards noted, surveying the area. "Drugs were really big during this time, my guess is that there were some college kids around here and they were so high they probably just thought this thing was some sort of hallucination." "I wish this whole mission was a hallucination," Richards commented. "I'm in," Tilleran finally said, as the hatch slid open. She immediately climbed in and began accessing the shuttle's computers. "The computers are locked out too, which I guess shouldn't come as much of a surprise." "Well, get that uplink set up as fast as you can," Baxter said, looking around. "The sooner we get out of here, the less chance we have of contaminating the time stream." "I'm on it," Tilleran said, sliding the computer's access panel off and ducking her head inside. The name tag on her shirt read "Mabel," and she wasn't an out of the ordinary cleaning lady at all. As a matter of fact, most of the agents on the tenth floor of the Norfolk FBI branch would say that she was pretty darn good. She was not, however, a temporal scientist, or for that matter, any kind of scientist. All she was concerned about as she dusted off Dr. Cross' lab table was getting home in time to watch "Murphy Brown." That's probably why she dusted the lab table with such a sense of urgency, not at all careful to avoid Carl Jaroch's malfunctioning electromagnetic telescope (which was really a perfectly functioning neutrino emitter) that sat on top of the lab table, minding its own business. Visions of Candace Bergen danced in Mabel's head as she leaned over the lab table, stretching to dust the far corner. Unfortunately, she got her arm caught up in the electrical cord of the aforementioned neutrino emitter, and ended up knocking it off of the table. Mabel let out a small squeak as she fell backwards, and watched the invention tumble to the floor, bouncing once, and coming to life with electronic beeps and whistles, lights blinking on and off all around it. She heaved the bulky machine back onto the counter, checking to make sure that it had not been broken. She wasn't much of an engineer, but it looked fine to her. The neutrino emitter beeped and blinked quietly as Mabel quickly finished cleaning the room, shutting off the lights and scuttling out the door, not giving the accident a second thought. "Well," Richards said, examining his tricorder readings. "The shuttle isn't damaged. And the hull scans don't show any signs of a firefight or temporal anomaly." Baxter thought a moment, rubbing his chin. "That means the Defiant had to come back through time with it." "That must have been since we left the Alpha Quadrant," Conway interjected, "I mean, we would have heard about something like that." "I don't see how that gets us anywhere," Baxter said, studying the shuttle in mild annoyance. "Chris, I need you to come up with a way to get this thing out of here in the most inconspicuous way possible." "U-haul?" Richards said with a smile. Conway and Baxter stared at him, unamused. "Sorry, twentieth century joke." "Got it," Tilleran said triumphantly, watching the information whiz by on the shuttle's small computer screen. "I'm uploading the shuttle's data banks to the Aerostar now." "Great," Baxter said, peering over her shoulder. "The sooner we get that information the sooner we can..." "...get out of here." Baxter continued, suddenly overcome with a wash of confusion. He was no longer in the woods in Norfolk, and none of his away team was nearby. He was in some sort of house, or apartment. "What do you mean 'get out of here'? It's my apartment!" someone asked from behind him. Baxter turned around. "Commander Dillon?" The person looked just like Commander Travis Dillon...but, at the same time, he looked different, younger. This was really weird. "Not as far as I know, unless I've entered Starfleet and was unaware of it. I think you're losing it Andy. Believe me, you'll get used to college before long," Travis said, looking at Baxter as if he was crazy. "College?" Baxter asked, extremely disoriented. He looked down at his clothing. He wasn't wearing his uniform...or his comm badge! Where the hell was he? "Where the hell am I?" Baxter asked. "As if you didn't know. You've lived in Salisbury longer than I have," Travis said. "Oh, boy," Baxter said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Report, Commander," a scratchy, guttural female voice said. David Conway's eyes snapped open, and he hopped off the bed. "Lt. Larkin, what's wrong with your voice? And why did you transport us-" He suddenly noticed there was no one there. Furthermore, he was in a small, dark room, with some sort of glowing screen in the corner. Conway squinted through the darkness in order to make out what was going on. It seemed like he was watching the flight recorder from some kind of starship, only occasionally music would play in the background. "You heard me...get off my ship!" The gravely voice said. Then the scene of the starship changed, to the interior of some sort of doctor's office. A woman was sitting at the desk, staring out of the screen at Conway. "Do you have cramps?" Conway was dumbfounded. "No." "Well, just like you, I suffer from the monthly agony of menstrual pain. That's why I take Permasin. It cures my cramps, bloating, itching, bitching..." "Where the hell am I?" Conway asked, staring at the TV and slapping it with his hand. "David!" a voice called from beyond the room Conway was in. "Yes?" Conway asked, almost afraid to answer the woman's voice. "Your dinner's ready!" the woman said with joy. Conway could hear approaching footsteps. He steeled himself in a corner of the room, prepared for anything. Obviously this was some sort of trap. A short, plump, woman with a pleasing disposition burst into Conway's room, a steaming tray in her hands. "I made your favorite! Crabcakes!" Conway collapsed onto the bed behind him. "Oh boy." "Hey, Chris! Come on in!" A short, balding man said, welcoming Chris Richards into a house that he was sure he had never seen in his life. "Um," he said, dutifully following the man inside. Where was he? "Janice's up in her room. She'll be down in a second. You can wait in the family room." "Well, I uh..." Richards was led into the house's spacious family room. He decided to sit down on the couch and try to work out exactly what was going on. The last thing he remembered was that he was with Captain Baxter, Commander Conway, and Lieutenant Tilleran, trying to retrieve data from the Defiant's shuttlecraft. It was then that Chris felt something tugging at the back of his head...oh, it was just Janice's cat, playing with his ponytail. Wait a minute...he had a ponytail! Since when did he have a ponytail? "Hi, Chris! How's the college life treating you?" A woman asked, descending the stairs behind the couch and taking a position behind Richards. Richards turned around. "Um, well, I really don't know..." "That's good to know. Janice will be right down. How about some antipasto?" Richards shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Um, sure." "Gee, you sound quiet, tonight," a voice called. Upon hearing the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, Richards turned around. He would have known that voice anywhere, in any time. It was Janice. "Hey," Richards began, "What the heck is going..." By this time, Browning had just reached the bottom step. Richards's jaw might as well have dropped to the floor. He just stared on with an expression of complete shock as Browning waddled over to him and gave him a hug. "I missed you so much. And for that matter, so has your daughter. You should feel her kick!" Browning indicated her expansive tummy as she plopped down on the couch. "Er..." Richards managed to choke out. Browning patted her belly lovingly. "I tell you, Chris, I think she's going to pop out any day now!" Richards slid down farther into the couch. "Oh, boy." PART III: THE SIDE CHANGE IRMA HAMPTON ROADS, VIRGINIA Irma Wilson squeezed through her front door and waddled into her house, weighed down by grocery bags and shopping bags. "Tribble! I'm home!" Irma called out, plopping the bags down and pulling a Pabst Blue Ribbon out of the fridge. Suddenly, a little brown poodle scurried into the kitchen, yipping and yapping. "Come here, Tribble, come to momma!" Tribble obediently jumped into Irma's lap and began licking the beer from her chin. Irma poured some of the beer into Tribble's bowl and yanked the National Enquirer out of one of the grocery bags. "Oh, my!" Irma said, looking at the cover. "OJ and Elvis finally got married. I tell you, Tribble, that was a fairy tale waiting to come true." Irma flipped through the magazine some more, her eyes widening at the huge headline: A L I E N S A R E H E R E "Well," Irma said, setting the magazine down. "It's about time." She reached into another shopping bag and pulled out a small package of pictures. "Come here, Tribble. I want you to see the pictures I took of my new friends!" Tribble looked on as Irma flipped through several pictures, one of what appeared to be an employee of Wal-Mart, working at a register. The view was partly obstructed by what looked to be the box from a 20-inch Toshiba Television. "I had to hide behind the storage shelves to get those," Irma commented. "Pretty ingenious, huh?" Tribble just yipped, excitedly watching as Irma flipped through the photos. "Anyway, that's David. He works at Wal-Mart. This is Andy. He lives in a dorm at Salisbury State University," the next few photos appeared to be of someone, around the age of the Wal-Mart employee, but this person was hunched over a desk, working at a computer. That view was partially obstructed by a window pane. "I impersonated a maintenance worker to get those shots. I almost fell off the ladder at one point," Irma explained, setting the pictures down carefully, as if they were quite powerful. "And I managed to sneak inside the dormitory, posing as a pizza delivery person." Irma said, reaching into her purse. "And I stole this hairbrush from Andy's room while he was in the bathroom. Isn't it cool?" Tribble yipped again. "And his hair is in it!" Irma said excitedly, reaching into her purse again. "And, when David went on break, I managed to get this cool Kleenex from out of the wastebasket." Tribble peered at the Kleenex, sticking her tongue out to lick it. "No!" Irma said, slapping Tribble back. "I have to preserve their DNA, so that at some point, I can clone them. Too bad our technology hasn't come that far yet." Tribble just cocked her head quizzically. "I've finally found the perfect friends, Tribble. And once my plans are complete, I'll never have to let them go!" Irma cackled hideously, scurrying to her bedroom with the pictures, hairbrush, and Kleenex. Tribble, for her part, decided to stick her nose in Irma's purse, investigating the confines of the giant bag. Inside, hidden underneath a pack of half-eaten Malomars, Tribble found a tiny medicine bottle, inscribed with the words: SUTTON, IRMA. TAKE TWO CAPLETS EACH DAY TO PREVENT DEPRESSION, HALLUCINATION, AND HYSTERIA Irma had lost the bottle in her expansive purse several days ago, and as the Prozac-free days flew by, her personality changed more and more. She felt much happier lately, much more sure of herself. Obviously, the quack who had prescribed her medication did not know what he was talking about. Dementia indeed. CHAPTER SEVEN NORFOLK, VA MONDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1995 9:12 PM Lt. Tilleran wasn't sure exactly when things went completely nuts, but it was quite shortly after she began the upload to the Aerostar's data banks. Right after that her mind was hit by a huge mass of confusion. The minds of Baxter, Conway, and Richards seemed to radically change ...it was as if they had suddenly become totally different people. Tilleran had to fight to steady herself as she was hit by the wave of confusion put off by Baxter, Conway, and Richards. "What's going on?" Baxter asked with fear, looking around. "Where am I? And why am I wearing this outfit?" "And why do you look ten years older?" Conway added. "This isn't happening!" Richards shouted. "I want to go home!" Baxter said. "Let's get out of here!" Conway said. "Just hold on a minute!" Tilleran shouted, trying to gain control of the situation. "You all have to calm down. The tricorder says that we're all experiencing a huge neutrino surge. I'm sure we'll find out what the..." "Tricorder?" Conway asked, his expression brightening. "That has to be it!" Baxter finally said. "We're on 'Star Trek'! I'm dreaming. I have dreams like this all the time." "I'm the one dreaming!" Conway argued. "No, I'm the one dreaming!" Richards said. "NO!" Baxter shouted. "We're all dreaming!" "More like a nightmare," Tilleran muttered, grabbing her equipment out of the shuttlecraft and tapping her comm badge. "Tilleran to Aerostar. We have a major situation down here. I've recovered the shuttle data, but the rest of the away team has gone nuts!" "What is your recommendation, Lieutenant?" came the calm voice of Lt. Larkin. "You better beam us up there before things get any worse. We can worry about the shuttle later." "Acknowledged, Lieutenant. We are beaming you up now." "Who was that?" Richards asked fearfully. "Did she say beam?" Conway asked. "This is so cool!" Baxter said as the away team dematerialized. "You've lost it, Andy," Travis Dillon said, shaking his head. "No, I haven't, Travis. Something is seriously wrong here," Baxter said, rubbing his head and leaning back on the couch. "That much is certain." "No, listen, this happened before. Captain Rydell...he went back in time and traded places with his ancestor. That has to be the explanation. But how?" "Alex?" Travis asked. "What the hell are you talking about?" Baxter thought a moment. He was working on board the Secondprize during the time of Captain Rydell's famous jaunt back through time. Could it be that a similar thing had happened? Was such a huge coincidence possible? If anyone on Earth would know about that incident, it was Travis Dillon. "Come on, Travis...don't you remember...your roomate, Alex, his mind was replaced by a future Alex Rydell, and you helped him mend his relationship with Trinian...I mean Trina, you helped save the time stream as we know it." "When was this?" Travis asked, now starting to feel extremely confused. "Last year some time, I think," Baxter said. "They didn't do a mind wipe...so you've got to remember. Unless you blocked it out." "Mind wipe..." Travis said, his voice trailing off. Things went blurry for a moment for Travis Dillon. He wasn't sure what was happening to him, but it was as if he was reliving things that he didn't remember living the first time... He was back in his apartment...with Alex...and two other people that were very familiar. One of them looked just like Alex, except older. And he was coming towards him... "Travis!" he said warmly, walking over to Travis. "How are you doing? It's been too long!" "You know him?" Alex asked Travis. "I know you?" Travis asked Rydell. "It's been so long, I'm not surprised that you don't remember," Rydell said. "I looked different then anyway. We met about two years ago. I was only in town for about a week. You helped me out a lot." "I don't remember..." "I'd become separated from my friends and had to get back to them. You helped me out and helped save a relationship in the process. Yes, it was a fine job. Worthy of a captain. You would have at least won second prize." Travis looked at Rydell, confused. What the hell was this guy talking about? Two years ago? Captain? Second prize? Secondprize! Captain! It all fell into place. Travis's eyes widened in shock. "You!" he exclaimed. It had to be Captain Rydell from the future. Travis had almost convinced himself that the week in which Rydell and Alex switched bodies didn't happen. Alex spent the whole week unconscious in the future, so he didn't know a thing about it. He'd convinced himself that he was actually here that week and had just blocked it out because it almost cost him his relationship with Trina. Travis, on the other hand, had figured out that something was wrong and learned the truth. It was so bizarre though, that over time and with no one to reinforce that it actually had happened, Travis was almost convinced it was a weird dream. Not anymore though. Rydell was back and someone was with him. Someone who Andrea though had thought looked kind of like him. He looked past Rydell to Dillon. Was this his future self? Suddenly Travis was standing outside the apartment, talking with the guy who looked like Alex, and that other guy that looked like him. He could hear himself talking, but he didn't understand what he was saying. This was getting more and more confusing by the minute. "What's going on?" Travis asked. "Why are we in danger?" "You're not," Dillon said. "Alex is." "Travis, this is Commander Travis Dillon," Rydell said. "So, you are me," Travis said. "Thankfully not," Dillon snapped. "He's your descendant," Rydell told Travis while glaring angrily at Dillon. "But he is correct. Alex is in danger." "From whom?" "A woman named Rebecca Singer who used to be on my crew. She's gone wacko and thinks she's in love with me. She attacked the Secondprize and then, when that failed, decided to go back in time to do something. What she's going to do, we're not sure yet, but since she came to this time, we think it has to do with Alex. In any case, we're keeping an eye on him." "Let me get this straight. A crazy woman from the future is going to kill my best friend and roommate because you won't go out with her," Travis said. "Pretty much," Rydell said. "Then, take her to dinner or something, for Christ's sake!" Now Travis was in his friend Carl's apartment. "Playtime's over boys," Singer said, taking a step toward Alex and Carl. She didn't notice Travis behind her. He attempted to sneak forward and grab her from behind, but tripped over a shoe on the floor. He fell past Singer and hit the floor with a thud. "Hi," Travis said weakly as Singer aimed the phaser down at him. "Get over there with the others," Singer said, gesturing toward Alex and Carl. "No problem," Travis said, crawling quickly over to his friends. "Nice form," Alex mumbled. "The landing was great," Carl said. "I hate you both," Travis said. Suddenly they were running. Alex, Travis, and Carl ran into Greenbriar Mall and started frantically searching for a security guard. They found one standing near a bank down a corridor on the lower level of the mall. "Officer...officer," Alex gasped. "Help," Carl said. "Woman chasing us," Travis finished. "What the hell are you boys talking about?" the guard asked, annoyed that he was being bothered by three lunatics. His annoyance was quickly ended as a stun blast from down the corridor knocked him unconscious. "You can't keep running from me like this," Singer said. "We're sure going to try," Alex replied as he, Travis, and Carl took off running again. The next thing Travis knew, he was in a dark room, somewhere inside the mall. "Are you guys all right?" Rydell asked. "How did you get rid of Singer?" Dillon said. "Uh...we didn't," Travis said, pointing past Rydell and Dillon. Rydell and Dillon looked at each other, then, fearing the worst, slowly turned around. Singer stepped out of the darkness holding a phaser on the group. "How nice," she said. "All of my annoyances are gathered in one place. That should make eliminating them very easy. It's enough to bring tears to my eyes." Tears started spilling down Singer's face as she took another step forward. "This woman is psycho," Alex said softly. "You don't know the half of it," Rydell said. "And soon," Singer said, her tears turning to laughter. "He won't know anything at all, and I'll have my real Alex back." There was a phaser blast...Travis lost consciousness...Rebecca Singer was now in the custody of the Rydell from the future. "You three know way too much about the future now," The future Rydell said. "I would have wiped Travis's memory two years ago, but there was no way for me to." "You've known for two years!" Alex said, turning on Travis. "Sorry," Travis said. "Rydell to Secondprize. Eight to beam up." "Hey, wait a second," Carl protested. "This is so cool," Travis said. "I'm going to get you for this," Alex said. The transporter beam dematerialized them before they could say another word. Alex, Travis, and Carl Jaroch almost had to be dragged to sickbay by Rydell and Dillon. The three college students gaped at their surroundings. Travis kept trying to get away and play with the computer panels. "Come on, guys," Travis whined. "I've wanted to see a spaceship my entire life." "Too bad," Dillon said. "You have to get your memory erased." "You are a thoroughly unpleasant person," Travis said. Travis was now running through the starship Secondprize. He saw corridors, panels...things he couldn't even have imagined seeing in his wildest dreams. "Get back here," Rydell said. "Yes, sir," Travis said glumly. He trudged back to sickbay with his head bowed. "Anyway," Rydell said once they were back inside. "We need to make sure that they don't remember anything about us." He pushed Travis forward. "And see to it that this one doesn't remember my visit here two years ago." "Three wipe and swipes coming right up," Aldridge said reaching for her hypospray. "Don't worry boys. This won't hurt a bit...unless you try to get away from me. If you do that, I may have to use the less comfortable method. Now are you going to give me any trouble?" "No ma'am," Alex, Travis, and Carl replied nervously. "Good boys." "Travis!" Baxter shouted, shaking Travis urgently. "Travis, say something! What the hell is wrong with you?" Travis opened his eyes. "The future..." "You believe me?" Baxter asked, sitting down. "We have got to talk..." Travis said slowly, trying to compose his thoughts. "Get them on the biobeds," Dr. Browning said, as Lt. Tilleran, aided by Lt. Gellar and Ensign Saral from security, dragged the struggling forms of Baxter, Conway, and Richards into sickbay. "Get the restraining fields ready, Holly," Browning said, looking down over Lt. Commander Richards. "Chris, can you hear me?" "Janice..." Richards said softly. "Where's the baby? You're older...what's happening?" "Baby?" Browning said in confusion. "Where are we?" Baxter shouted. "They're delusional," Nurse Holly Carter concluded. She was slightly taller than Dr. Browning, with long blonde hair. Nurse Carter had a unique way of getting to the point. "We better sedate them, Doc." "No kidding," Browning said, grabbing a hypospray. "Good night, fellas." "Voyager! Voyager!" Conway ranted. "What happened to the Voyager!" "It was lost in the badlands on stardate..." Lt. Tilleran began, until Dr. Browning held up a hand. "They're confused enough as it is, Ariel. We have to figure out what happened to their minds. I'm going to need the help of you and Ensign Saral." "Thank you, Doctor. He'll be in bright and early tomorrow morning. Yes, uh-huh. That's right. Thanks again." David Conway's mother said, hanging up the phone. "The Aerostar! What happened to the Aerostar!" Conway yelled from his room. "Where am I?" "You're home, David. Don't you remember where your home is?" Conway's mother said, stepping back into the bedroom. "I...I can't remember..." "Just go to sleep. We'll have you all taken care of in the morning." "No...no...the Defiant...the Aerostar...Starfleet..." Conway's mother closed the door to Conway's bedroom and walked out into the family room. "It's all Star Trek's fault. That show has driven my boy crazy." "Chris, are you okay?" Janice asked with concern. "You look a little peaked..." Richards collapsed onto the couch. "I'm...I'm fine. I just feel very weird. I feel like I don't belong here." "This is about college isn't it," Janice said, folding her arms over her huge stomach angrily. "We'll talk about this later." "No..." Richards said, grabbing Janice by the arms. "This isn't the right place for me. I should be up there...in space..." "What are you talking about? You want to be an astronaut?" Browning asked. "You'd never believe me." Browning grabbed Richards's arm and dragged him up from the couch and up the stairs. "Try me." "So Rydell visited this time period twice..." Baxter said, following Travis around the house as he paced. "Yes. Once when Carl's device switched his brain waves, and again when Dr. Singer came back in time to kill this time period's Alex." "So the device must have switched the brains of me and my officers." "That's all I can think of," Travis said, continuing to pace. "We have to find Carl and the device. Before it's too late," Travis said, running for the phone. "And we have to find Richards and Conway, before they get in too much trouble in this timeline," Baxter added, watching as Travis dialed the phone. Travis sighed as he held the phone. "Damn it. I got his answering machine. Carl...this is Travis. Remember that space telescope you were working on a couple years back? I can't explain right now, but I need you to find it. And quick. Call me back as soon as you can." Baxter grabbed his coat. "We have to find Conway and Richards!" Travis jumped up and grabbed his jacket and his keys. "Right. I know where David lives, so we'll go there first. Assuming the same thing happened to him." Baxter followed Travis out the door. "If not, then we'll have a lot of ex